There is no shortage of first-rate recordings of Mozart's Requiem; but in the wake of the Mozart year new ones are still tumbling off the presses. The two here represent opposite interpretative poles. The Davis recording is basically traditional in approach, and like many of his recent Mozart performances it is decidedly grave in manner. I must say that I slightly regret the passing of a conductor who, as a young man, brought such a breath of vitality into Mozart interpretation. This reading of the Requiem is characterized by decidedly slow tempos and carefully moulded detail, and also by some sense—though nowhere near as much as in his earlier version, listed above—of drama. There is real grandeur to much of it: listen to the Kyrie fugue, firm and resolute, or the ''Dies irae'', done with great intensity, or the ''Rex tremendae majestatis'', with its striking rhythms. But the heavy, sustained manner is sometimes self-defeating: the effect becomes merely solemn when it is intended to be grave, and once or twice even seems sanctimonious (try the ''Hostias'', or the ''Recordare''). The spacious tempos sometimes reap rewards: the Agnus Dei, for example, is highly impressive, and the ''Lacrymosa'' is duly sombre. The solo quartet sing with due intensity in the ''Benedictus'' even if the style is over-sophisticated for what was after all intended as liturgical music. The bass JanHendrik Rootering is impressive in the ''Tuba mirum''—more impressive than the 'tuba' (that is, the trombone), which has an unwelcome hint of vibrato, as too has the too-plaintive bassoon at the opening of the work. The choral singing is excellent, powerful, precise and focused in tone, with the men, especially the tenors, quite outstanding.
I don't know the size of Davis's choir or orchestra; they sound pretty large. Jordi Savall's is small—the choir 6.4.4.4, the strings 4.4.2.2.2. This is a performance quite intimate and relaxed in tone, and to my ears not really very devotional in atmosphere; the singing is almost undercultivated, and the rhythms surprisingly jaunty for a Requiem. Well, the Sanctus is certainly more jubilant than usual, and the ''Osannas'' go with a fair swing; so, less persuasively, does the ''Rex tremendae majestatis''. The period instruments provide, as usual, lucid, airy textures (through which the timpani and the trombones cut effectively), as does the modest choir, which sings with a good deal of skill—listen to the clear and athletic semiquaver runs in the Kyrie fugue, for instance, or the lively ''Quam olim Abrahae''. Some of the solo singing is so simple in manner as to seem almost simple-minded: though I would add that the alto, Claudia Schubert, is outstanding, with a real grasp of the idiom. That is just what is lacking elsewhere: the performance is ultimately too far removed from a true Mozartian style to offer more than a superficial account of the work.
Readers wanting a period-instrument performance, then, might do better to pass over what is ultimately a lightweight version in favour of the sensible and musicianly Neumann reading on EMI, or the rather more consciously projected Philips one under Gardiner. Those preferring modern instruments will, I think, find greater rewards in the very accomplished Marriner version, also for Philips; possessors of Colin Davis's older version (Philips again) should not, I think, feel that it has been superseded. The Viennese recording on RCA by Gillesberger retains its old appeal for its natural feeling for the work's idiom.'