The premise on which this enjoyable recording is based goes something like this: Lotti and Handel became friends during the latter’s stay in Italy when he was a young man. Both composed settings of Dixit Dominus in G minor. The resources available to Lotti (in Venice) were slender, so it is probable that his version was scored for single voices and strings. Therefore it is possible that Handel’s setting (for Rome) was conceived for similarly modest forces.

Put like that the theory looks shaky, doesn’t it? But what matters is whether it works or not. And it does, except for a point addressed but dismissed in the conductor’s booklet note: namely, that there is inevitably little contrast between the solo and tutti passages specified in Handel’s manuscript.

Lotti’s Dixit Dominus lasts barely 15 minutes. The voices enter immediately, the vigorous homophony surrounding the cantus firmus giving way to a soprano solo at ‘donec ponem inimicos tuos’. ‘De torrente’, a tenor solo with violin interludes, leads straight into the alto’s ‘Gloria’. A slow, dignified fugue brings the piece to an end. None of this is as memorable as the Crucifixus that follows, the ensemble digging into the suspensions.

The Handel is curiously spaced. There’s too long a gap between ‘Juravit Dominus’ and ‘Tu es sacerdos’, whereas ‘Judicabit in nationibus’ practically tumbles over ‘Dominus a dextris tuis’. The start is suitably energetic. Anthea Pichanick’s smooth ‘Virgam virtutis’ is complemented by a delightfully inventive contribution from the organ continuo of Emmanuel Arakélian; it’s followed by Camille Allérat’s bell-like soprano duetting with Ugo Gianotti’s violin in ‘Tecum principium’. The chattering phrases of ‘Tu es sacerdos’ can be rather a scramble; here, the single voices are a distinct advantage. Jonas Descotte’s approach to the fierce repetitions of ‘conquassabit’ (‘and smite in sunder’) is to accelerate gradually, like a steam locomotive pulling out of a station. Descotte tickles the ear with a pianissimo ending to ‘De torrente’ before launching into a lively ‘Gloria’, where Handel forgets that he is writing for voices as well as instruments.

Lotti’s Miserere in C minor is made up of 19 short sections, adding up to about 30 minutes. It begins with sombre repeated quavers in the strings and ends with a gentle fugue. There is plenty of variety along the way. Some numbers are continuo-only (organ or theorbo); two have a surprising pizzicato accompaniment. The first part of the soprano ‘Libera me’ is scored for just two violins, while Lotti’s word-painting includes stabbing chords to illustrate ‘a broken spirit’.

The poorly laid-out booklet includes nothing on the Miserere or Crucifixus yet runs to eight pages of photographs of the ensemble. But it is good to see Handel and Lotti side by side. And Jason, or rather Jonas Descotte and his Argonauts serve both men well.