Purcell & Blow at Versailles
Le Poème Harmonique, under Vincent Dumestre, brings together John Blow’s Welcome Every Guest and Purcell’s Hail, Bright Cecilia! Z. 328 in a program that feels both festive and revealing. Each opens with a grand “symphony” that sets the table—ceremonial, richly scored, and written to make an audience sit up straighter. From the first bars, this ensemble delivers the swagger and polish these works demand.
Released just ahead of St. Cecilia’s Day on 11/22, this recording taps into the short-lived London tradition of musical celebrations for the patron saint of music. The historical premise has always struck me as charmingly improbable—Cecilia, credited with inventing the organ, inspiring a burst of musical devotion despite no historical link to instruments at all. Yet in the late-17th century the idea stuck, and composers like Purcell and Blow embraced the occasion with music that praised music itself. This performance captures that slightly extravagant, self-aware joy.
Purcell’s ode may be familiar through earlier recordings, but spending time with it here reminded me just how imaginative and distinctive his vocal writing can be. His instrumental works were my entry point; the songs have taken longer to get under my skin. They do now. ’Tis Nature’s Voice is a good example: Hugo Hymas shapes the line with clarity and expressive restraint, using vibrato as color rather than default. It’s the same kind of discretion a period violinist uses when choosing whether to warm a long tone. That detail, small as it seems, makes the rhetoric come alive.
This attention to text and line carries across the cast. Paul-Antoine Bénos-Djian and Hugo Hymas bring easy elegance to With that Sublime Celestial Lay; Tomás Král leans into the playful swing of the bassoon’s opening in Wondrous Machine! (you can feel the instrument’s grin); and In Vain, the Am’rous Flute has a graceful, conversational quality that suits its duet writing. Charlotte La Thrope introduces a shade more vibrato than her colleagues—pleasant, if a touch more French in profile—but the cohesion among the male soloists and the choir gives the whole performance a unified aesthetic.
The players match this sensitivity. The oboe and bassoon phrase with conversational ease in Thou Tun’st This World; trumpets and timpani return in The Fife and All the Harmony of War with confident brightness but never overwhelm; and the continuo group (harp, organ, harpsichord, theorbo) provides a warm, detailed foundation. Recorded on location at Versailles, the sound places every strand in space—clear solos, resonant chorus, tactile bass. It’s the kind of engineering that rewards good speakers or headphones: depth, air, texture. This truly is a delicious sounding, audiophile experience. Digital reverb can't touch the space here.
Blow’s Welcome Every Guest sits naturally beside Purcell’s work, sharing the same courtly grandeur but leaning more toward early Italian opera. The bass-ground opening of The Sacred Nine—a steady pulse over which the tenor spins his line—reminds us how English composers absorbed continental ideas without losing their own accent.
Comparisons with previous recordings of the Purcell consistently steered me back to this one. The balance of expressive singing, stylistic awareness, and exceptional sound makes it easy to fall under its spell. Dumestre and his musicians don’t treat this as museum music; they celebrate it with affection and craft.
For anyone curious about Purcell’s dramatic brilliance beyond the theatre, or about the vivid musical life around St. Cecilia’s Day in London, this release is a generous invitation. I arrived as a respectful admirer; I left more convinced than ever of the enduring power and invention in this music.
