This might be termed the Gerontius of the 'JBs'. It very much belongs to the Angel of Dame Janet Baker and the conducting of Sir John Barbirolli here giving another example of that instinctive rapport which filled the few precious recordings they made together. Barbirolli penetrated to the core of the work's spirituality. In showing his affection for it, he was liable to embark on slow tempos and unmarked ritardandos. Whether one accepts these or finds them self-indulgent rather depends on one's mood. The Prelude at once announces the intensity of feeling Sir John brings to the whole work, but as you can hear on the new Pearl CD of Elgar's 1927 Royal Albert Hall reading (Opal (CD) CD9810—to be reviewed later), the same urgency, or perhaps more of it, can be achieved at something closer to the composer's markings.
Barbirolli is superb with his choir. Though they may not be as impressive a body as that on some other sets, they sing with perhaps the greatest character and conviction of all, especially as hissing Demons and ecstatic Angelicals. Thank goodness they're given a forward recording, something of a lesson to more recent contestants in this field. The Halle are a superb instrument in Barbirolli's hands. Note such details as the shimmering strings at ''Pray for me my friends'' and the soft chord on the organ at ''I go before my judge'' and, in a broader sense, the tremendous power of the climax before ''Take me away''.
Dame Janet is superb. We hear all the tenderness and eloquence one expects from an Angel, and a radiance balanced by other-worldliness. Her skill with the text is unrivalled. It comes to the fore in the description of St Frands's stigmata and in the whole dialogue with Gerontius. The farewell is the very epitome of serene consolation. Richard Lewis declaims ''Take me away'' with the proper terror and utters a quite beautiful ''Novissima hora est'' but elsewhere is less communicative and shows less spontaneity than for Sargent (nla) ten years earlier. The cold from which he was said to be suffering seems occasionally evident. Perhaps it accounts for the very audible cough at the start of the ''Be merciful'' chorus, just after he has stopped singing. If Kim Borg's Priest and Angel of the Agony are an acquired taste because of his peculiar accenting of the English language it's one I have acquired. He has all the authority for the first role, the supple expression for the second.
I don't intend to rehearse again so soon my views on the many available sets, all with their own particular merits. This one has found its way into many people's hearts, as it deserves, and they will be delighted to have it so arrestingly refurbished. Like so many other accounts of this piece, it is its own justification because everyone concerned was obviously inspired by the glorious music to give of his and her very best.'