The masque and preceding antimasque are rather less commonly to be seen today than in seventeenth-century England, if only because William Lawes's Cupid and Death is the only one of the period to have survived in detail. Why then not construct one from remaining fragments of other masques and theatre music, and who better to do it than a group that calls itself Tragicomedia? An instrumental masque tune, Charon at the gates of hell, at first conversing with an incoming soul, encouragement to abandon chastity, and Orpheus's declaration that the powers of love can alone overcome those of Dis—these form the play. Baboons, cats and satyrs provide the grotesqueries of the antimasque, brought to an end by the cock's crow. The masque itself belongs to Orpheus and an unexpected interruption of the ensuing revelry, by apes, only briefly delays the final valediction.
The selected ingredients are from the kitchens of William Lawes, Robert Johnson and Anon, ubiquitous masters of the masque, with a single pinch of instrumental Dowland, skilfully blended to hold the palate's interest. There isn't a weak spot in the vocal or instrumental forces, amongst whom it would be invidious to select any one for top honours. The four singers are superb, both individually and in consort, and the instrumental ensemble of bowed and plucked strings provides a magical variety of sounds and textures, enhanced by Lawrence-King's versatility in deploying double, triple and Irish harps, organ, regal and tambourine—though not of course all at once. It would, too, be difficult to imagine a better-balanced recording of the most enjoyable programme I've heard since... since I last said that. What a splendid video might be made of it! Is anyone listening?'