With these two discs the Clerks Group bring to a close their complete survey of Ockeghem’s sacred music – a project initiated eight years and as many discs ago – and bid farewell to the composer with whom they have been most closely associated. It all started with the recording of the Mass Ecce ancilla Domini. I remember how exciting it was to hear one of Ockeghem’s most perfect Masses sung with such authority by so young an ensemble. I wrote then that ‘there are very few recordings of 15th-century polyphony to match this one’ (10/93). The passage of time and of many, many reviews notwithstanding, the verdict today seems to me much the same: the account of the Mass, in particular, remains one of their most satisfying achievements. It is good to see it join the ASV fold along with its companions.
The most recent disc is scarcely less impressive, and it, too, includes works that express Ockeghem’s art in contrasted but typical ways. The five-voice Mass Sine nomine may seem slight on paper, but the Clerks’ men make clear its effectiveness, recalling the earthiness they brought to the similarly scored Fors seulement Mass (5/97). And Au travail suis is one of the most strikingly distinctive of all 15th-century cycles, a study in contrasted, kaleidoscopic textures. Here the ensemble place themselves midway between the two previous recordings, by the dynamic Pomerium Musices in the ’70s (Nonesuch, 4/78 – nla) and the rather more studied and mellower Tallis Scholars in the ’90s on Gimmel. Here as elsewhere, the Clerks are mellifluous and slick: at times this is to the detriment of the music’s delicious asperities (try the end of the Credo), but those who find Pomerium’s account too mannered will welcome this more measured approach. (Careful listeners will note that the Tallis Scholars and the Clerks use editions based on two different manuscript sources, which makes for an interesting comparison.)
The Clerks make the most of the contrasting moods of the three accompanying songs: the playful Petite Camusette, the solemn lament for Binchois (Mort, tu as navre), and the delicate and devotional Permanent vierge (not ‘Permanente’ as the piece is here consistently called), whose attribution is shown to be plausible at the very least. And it is a neat touch for the group to end the recording with the piece that opened its Ockeghem odyssey (on the other disc reviewed here), Intemerata Dei mater, sung this time by the Clerks’ men at a lower pitch, and in a single take: an elegant final flourish to an ambitious and rewarding undertaking. Lovers of vocal polyphony owe Edward Wickham and his singers a vote of thanks