Every item on these two discs proclaims Stanford’s mastery. It’s curious: the larger works (the symphonies, operas and so forth) in as far as we know them seem not quite to qualify as masterpieces, yet all of these shorter compositions (the longest of them being the 12-minute Magnificat for double choir) are clearly, as the Germans would have discovered long ago were he theirs, the work of A Master. That Magnificat, for instance, is a wonderfully assured construction. Ye holy angels bright, similarly in the Bach tradition, conceals a musician’s pride in technical skill (as in the counterpoint of verse 3) with the most beguiling coverage of melody, harmony and sheer relish in the sonorities of choral singing. Only once, when he is being academic and not really himself, in the chromatic B minor Fugue for organ, does he almost become a bore; for the rest, his professionalism (which is never in question) is borne up with a touch of genius. Skills in construction and counterpoint may be acquired by hard slog, but melody is a gift of the spirit.
Both discs here do him good service, and having heard both I would not wish to be without either. The programmes have several items in common, so that choice becomes more of an issue. In the three Motets, Op. 38, both choirs command vigour of attack and smoothness of flow as required. King’s, under Stephen Cleobury, take a liberty over tempo in “Justorum animae”, quickening with the marcato style of “et non tanget” and not quite settling to an adagio molto for the last phrase. I can’t think Stanford would be turning in his grave (when he wanted tempo giusto, as in “Glorious and all-powerful God”, he was quite capable of saying so); nevertheless, New College, holding the time steady, show that there is no need for the acceleration. In For lo, I raise up, King’s have some initial advantage in the greater immediacy of the men’s voices (essential to make the text clear in this opening passage), but in the New College recording the organ forms a more integral part of the music (less separated from the choir) and that brings a compensating gain in expressiveness. Just occasionally the King’s men produce a tone that lacks the refinement so long associated with this famous choir. New College are on top form, and are certainly stronger on the alto and tenor lines. Let us try this by way of recommendation: readers who are reasonably well supplied with Stanford’s choral music on record should find more that is new to them in the New College recital, while those to whom the repertoire is fresh could hardly have a better introduction to it than the King’s disc.'