As so often with early(ish) Haydn, we can only speculate on the origins of this expansive ‘cantata Mass’, composed in two separate stages between 1766 and 1773. But it’s a fair guess that it was intended for a Viennese church associated with pilgrimages to Mariazell in the Styrian hills (Missa Cellensis literally means ‘Mass of Zell’). Like Mozart in his unfinished C minor Mass, Haydn was evidently intent on displaying his mastery of a whole range of ecclesiastical styles and techniques, from the soberly archaic to (in, say, the soprano’s jaunty ‘Quoniam’) the fashionably up-to-date. In his lifetime Haydn’s Masses, early and late, were often criticised for their worldliness, even frivolity. Not so the Missa Cellensis, praised by the Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung as ‘indisputably the most serious, the purest and the most fitting to the Church’ of Haydn’s earlier Masses.

Justin Doyle and his accomplished period forces give a performance to rival the excellent version from Richard Hickox’s Collegium Musicum 90. The choral singing is both incisive and mellifluous; tempos, balancing dignity and exuberance, are aptly chosen; and rhythms are always vital. While trumpets can be over-recessed, celebratory C major movements such as the Kyrie and ‘Et vitam venturi’ fugue, driving powerfully to its climax, go with a terrific swing. Doyle is alive, too, to Haydn’s moments of drama, as in the dissonant outbursts that invade the stile antico gravity of the ‘Gratias’.

In the choral numbers there is little to choose between the two versions, both finely recorded, with a well-judged vocal-orchestral balance. Doyle’s soloists, though, are a more variable bunch. Best is soprano Johanna Winkel, who sings her two arias with grace and an instrumental purity of timbre. Sophie Harmsen, whom I’ve admired in other music, lacks an ideal depth for the alto solos. Tenor Benjamin Bruns, familiar in Strauss and Wagner, fines down his tone effectively in the ‘Et incarnatus est’. But both he and the bass (a lightish baritone with add-on low notes) never sound wholly at ease in their demanding solos, especially alongside Hickox’s Mark Padmore and Stephen Varcoe. No one who buys this new disc is likely to be disappointed. But for me the deciding factor is the eloquence and expressive involvement of Hickox’s solo team, topped by Susan Gritton’s intense, musky soprano.