The items by Verdi and Boito (the aptest of neighbours), previously issued on LP and well received at the time, sound even better on CD. The choir is admirably blended and balanced, and produces fine tone in the Te Deum, a deeply committed performance with wide dynamic contrasts between, for example, the hushed opening and the great burst at ''Sanctus'': the only rival to it is in Muti's complete Four Sacred Pieces (HMV ASD143572-1, 11/83; CD EMI CDC7 47066-2, 3/85). In turn, Boito's grandiose vision of Mephistopheles before the court of Heaven, prefaced by trumpets and rolls of thunder (and here portrayed with impressive perspectives), makes a fitting companion to Berlioz's apocalyptic evocation of the Day of Judgement. Boito's instrumentation in the brief orchestral scherzo would have delighted Berlioz; and the only reservations about this particular version are that the chorus's words could have been more distinct, and that John Cheek, although he has a good voice, does not invest Mephistopheles with much character. It should perhaps be mentioned that the chorus of cherubim is shorter than is suggested by the printed text provided (which seems not to have been proof-read—but that comes as little surprise, seeing that even the French title of the Berlioz is consistently misspelt here).
Sonically, this recording of the Requiem is a stunner. The Atlanta Symphony Hall is spacious enough to accommodate the chorus—an excellent one, with a particularly good male section (which has a major role to fill)—the large orchestra, the array of timpani and the extra brass all round the building, without congestion and without artificial spotlighting of sections; and the cataclysmic climaxes of the Dies irae have never sounded more awesome. This movement—decidedly superior on CD—will undoubtedly become a demonstration track: if you're playing it at home, do reassure the neighbours first. But the Requiem is by no means all melodrama. Robert Shaw produces excitement a-plenty when it is called for, but he can also be relaxed, as in the gentle ending of his Offertorium (taken rather fast—2u minutes less in duration than Barenboim—DG 2707 119, 7/81, no CD at present): indeed, his Quarens me could be thought too relaxed and subdued, insufficiently intense in its pleading. The orchestral playing shows finesse, though there is a tendency for the orchestra (important as it is) to be given preferences over the chorus: despite some splendid full-throated singing (as at ''Rex!'' and the Hosannas of the Sanctus), it is just too distantly balanced for its words to be clearly heard (but there seems to have been some adjustment for the Hostias). The solo tenor, John Aler, might also, with advantage, have been placed a little more forward: he is a lyrical high tenor of very pleasing quality, more French in type than most of his rivals on records—an excellent piece of casting. Altogether, then, this is a strong competitor to the existing LP versions of the Berlioz (with the advantage of being on CD as well).'