The solemnity of Andrea Gabrieli’s music came to the attention of many listeners in the Mass sections of Paul McCreesh’s 1989 reconstruction of a Venetian coronation (Virgin Classics, 5/90). Though less virtuosic or breathtakingly inventive than his more celebrated nephew, Giovanni, Gabrieli senior is arguably the real father of what we now recognise as the St Mark’s sound, if that is most readily understood as heralding an era of antiphonal ‘choirs’ of singers and instrumentalists. Within that framework, Andrea’s oeuvre is, for the most part, relatively intimate and texturally contained, even if its harmonic grandeur is distinctly Venetian. One hears all these qualities abundantly in Missa Pater peccavi, one of three six-part masses Andrea published in 1572. In this, Britain’s pre-eminent antique brass ensemble is joined by an ad hoc consort of voices, a group which comes alive in a wonderfully glowing homogeneity in the actual Mass itself. While the parody motet upon which Gabrieli based his Mass is omitted, HMSC present instead a dark setting of De profundis clamavi; this is well paced but less settled than the vibrant and confident interchange of motifs and effortlessly natural phrasing in the opening salvos of both the Kyrie and Gloria.
Timothy Roberts directs the Mass with fresh and uncontrived gestures, recognising Gabrieli’s musical language as principally one of word- clarity and directness (under the influence of the famous Council of Trent); this is a work which rarely breaks its shackles to achieve the intricate imitation, chromatic colouring or reflective poise redolent of the more esoteric settings of the period. Although there are implied contrasts in the texts, Andrea Gabrieli leaves little indication as to which lines are to be taken by singers or instrumentalists, though the problem is discerningly and imaginatively solved here by the performers. One could quibble with a few things in the later stages of the Gloria and Credo, usually at points where the ensemble shuns dynamic nuance for the assurance of rhythmic control. This is often noticeable in music whose clear homophonic progressions exhaust the same key area repeatedly and therefore require some alternative means of relief.
A solo rendering of the motet O sacrum convivium deserves to be championed alongside more famous settings, as indeed it is here by the committed and open-hearted singing of Anna Sarah Pickard, accompanied by some very fine sackbutting. This is a real gem to join the sparkling organ solos and framing brass Ricercars, of which the final one in eight parts is stirringly unequivocal with its fibrous dulcian. An enterprising new release which gets better and better.'