My review of Abbado's 1985 recording on DG made much of its warmth. Bathed in Italian sunshine, it is a romantic conception, embracing the audience with fervour and interpreting generously every nuance in the text. Colleaux lights his stage with French moonlight. His intentions are entirely baroque. The emotions enter without doubt, but they are filtered into decent proportions. Engaging an alto for the lower vocal part further limited the lachrymose potential—or so one would have thought: in fact, within the bounds of his brief, Alain Zaepffel's well-rounded presence and formidable lung power make a surprisingly ardent contribution. His ability to glow in deep places and scale considerable heights makes him a suitable partner, in this piece at any rate, for a soprano of great power (though in his admirable ''Quae maerebat'' his top notes 'squeak' somewhat).
Veronique Dietschy, with her light free-floating tone, matches him perfectly. If there has to be a prize for musicianship on this record, it must go to her. she often has to stand alone with her discreet but compassionate expressiveness against a string balance that is far from perfect. The violins have a steely cutting edge which mercilessly pervades the Stabat mater throughout. We long for some cosiness to well up from the bass end, but it never does. The positif organ is nowhere to be heard. It could have had a usefully emollient role. Trills, vocal and instrumental, are always correct and unobtrusive. Accents, however, tend to be punched out. During the slow movements, the only perceptible orchestral emotion derives from the players' nasal and pectoral intakes. Colleaux is managing with eight strings, against Abbado's 23. But, even allowing for the difference in the instruments they use (Colleaux's are 'original'), it should have been possible to balance things better. I fell this has somewhat spoiled what was a splendid idea. The booklet omits nearly half the poem. In the Concerto, things are merrier, with harpsichord tinkle behind, and the Salve regina (markedly like Stabat mater in texture) is a triumph for Veronique Dietschy.'