‘Favourite’ is itself a favourite among terms used by the compilers of programmes such as this, but it rather begs the question ‘Whose favourite?’ Here, is it the congregation’s or the choir’s, or the choirmaster’s or the record-buying public? Most likely, I should think, the first and last, with the performers themselves probably in at least part-agreement.

Whatever the answer, such ‘favouritism’ would benefit from a little paternalistic nudging in two directions: one, to look outside the Wesley-to-Howells era, and the other, well, to take a cold shower. The first point is partly met in this programme by the inclusion of motets by Victoria and King John of Portugal, but both are short and neither can be said to represent the full glory of polyphonic music in the choir’s repertoire. The second arises because the ‘relaxes’ are too many and the ‘braces’ too few. It is a common complaint about choral anthologies and not one that I imagined Winchester would incur. Still, when a programme which has come under suspicion chooses to end, and so clog the channels of memory, with the deep purple oozings of Balfour Gardiner’s Evening Hymn, one can only suppose the effect to be intentional.

Irrespective of these slight misgivings, the performances are excellent, with the famous choir in fine form, the organ accompaniments handled with skill, and the Cathedral itself felt, through its acoustics, as a pervasive but not overpowering presence. Some of the best work is done a capella, with Parry’s My soul, there is a country beautifully phrased and shaded. The girls’ choir makes its recording début in three items, to particularly lovely effect in Ireland’s Ex ore innocentium. The booklet has interesting notes by the Precentor, Canon Stewart, and its cover carries a delightful reproduction, from the Izaak Walton memorial window, of the compleat angler by the banks of the meandering Itchen.