This is something of a milestone in the discography of the work, being the first modern version to be housed on a single CD. That hasn’t been achieved through hurry; tempos are much what you encounter on most big-scale, two-disc performances and, where they are on the fast side, as in the opening Kyrie, that accords with the metronome mark. As a whole the performance judiciously marries spaciousness with dramatic drive. Hickox achieves his effects unobtrusively without attempting the stricter observance of the text achieved, to enlightening effect, by Gardiner in his slimmer reading. Indeed anyone looking for a middle-of-the-road performance recorded with all the modern panoply of multi-miked sound will want seriously to consider this one.
Let me put some flesh on that judgement. The assembled LSO forces perform throughout with verve and dedication: listen to either the Dies irae or the Sanctus and you will hear what I mean. The chorus may not have the Italianate bite and timbre heard on the single-disc 1939 Serafin reading but it is, of course, far, far better recorded. The shaping of the work overall is strong and unfussy.
The soloists are more than adequate as a team, if not outstanding individually. The best of the quartet is undoubtedly Hatziano who, in her first major recording, fulfils all the hopes one has for her, singing with firm tone, warm, well-schooled style, no mannerisms – her “Liber scriptus” cannot be faulted. Beside her Crider greatly improves on her Teldec Ballo (6/96), convincing in attack, phrasing and emotional force, culminating in an urgent “Libera me”, but the excess of vibrancy in her tone remains a worry.
The tenor is new to me: he must be one and the same as the Israeli artist, Gabi Sadeh, given several favourable reviews recently in Opera magazine. His voice has an attractive timbre and it flows easily through the grateful music Verdi wrote for his tenor soloist, though nothing he does quite reaches ultimate distinction. The disappointment is Robert Lloyd, now sounding sadly hollow in tone and finding difficulty in sustaining his line, relying on solid experience and technique to carry him through the assignment and offering a good bottom line in the concerted passages.
The recording is a typical Chandos production which aficionados will know means a big, reverberant sound, wider in range even than the Gramophone Award-winning Telarc/Shaw version (which the Hickox also resembles in security as an interpretation). Its disadvantage is that the soloists are backwardly stationed so if you turn up the volume to hear them properly you will be promptly lifted out of your seat by the next choral passage.
In terms of sound, the rival single-disc versions aren’t competitive, but as convincing performances I would prefer for authentic conviction the historic Serafin, or the even older Sabajno, both with Italian soloists of a kind found on no modern versions. The other single-CD version, the earlier of Fricsay’s (2/96), offers a more compact, inward reading, in mono only (11/89). His later version, which stretches to two CDs in stereo, remains a visionary experience beyond most others.
For a modern performance, also on two discs, offering new perceptions and a dedicated fidelity to the text, Gardiner remains the choice. Hickox is perhaps more properly compared with Rahbari’s version on Discover International, super-budget but on two CDs, similar in style to Hickox, not quite as opulently recorded, better soprano, as good a mezzo, poorer tenor, superior bass.'