These are all world premiere recordings and feature the combination 
                  of Michala Petri’s flute, the Danish National Vocal Ensemble 
                  directed by Stephen Layton, and some enjoyable new music from 
                  Swedish composer Daniel Börtz, Latvian Ugis Praulins, the Dane 
                  Peter Bruun and Faroese composer Sunleif Rasmussen.
                   
                  Praulins’ 2010 The Nightingale takes a text after Hans 
                  Christian Andersen (in English) broken down into nine sections, 
                  or eight tableaux and a reprise to be strictly accurate. It’s 
                  better known as The Emperor and the Nightingale. This 
                  is directly communicative, aurally piquant music, so different 
                  from the sterile, audience-denying academism still sometimes 
                  to be found. Startling glissandi and rich contrast animate the 
                  music, so too antique-sounding airs, and succinct evocation 
                  and romance. Rasmussen utilises Petri’s technical adroitness 
                  at fast tonguing, and there are plenty of opportunities for 
                  bird imitation, whether real or mechanical – in the latter case 
                  adding mechanical, rhythmic, jagged qualities too. He takes 
                  the recorder up high, infiltrates troubadour warmth and has 
                  constructed a rich, warm, avid setting, clearly responding to 
                  Andersen’s texts with imagination and flair.
                   
                  Nemesis divina was written by Börtz in 2006. The text 
                  is by Carl von Linné, better known as Linnaeus (1707-1778), 
                  the botanist and physician. Petri employs, as instructed, multiple 
                  recorders from tenor to sopranino, and this vests the music 
                  with plenty of colour. Fortunately Börtz is a subtle colourist 
                  and his richly voiced choral writing works well. The recorder 
                  lines perhaps evoke Messaien but there is a strong and questioning 
                  independence in the writing, and a sense of things remaining 
                  incomplete in the final lines of the text.
                   
                  An equally well structured work is Rasmussen’s “I”. 
                  The recorder’s often incessant commentary adds to the density 
                  of the solo and choral writing, leading to a visionary and raptly 
                  beautiful recorder meditation as the work draws to a close. 
                  Finally Bruun’s Two scenes with Skylark takes two poems 
                  by Hopkins — as with all the other texts, they are set in English, 
                  a tribute to the linguistic superiority of the vocal ensemble. 
                  In The Sea and the Skylark the lark ascends against 
                  the crash of the sea, a vehemence conveyed with precise calibration; 
                  so, too, the rather dour interpretation of the stark last lines 
                  of the poem. Bruun vests The Caged Skylark with a stuttering 
                  rhythm, and this proves effective.
                   
                  Each of these composers has his own strong voice and his own 
                  way of reconciling the recorder, or recorders, with choral and/or 
                  solo voices in these settings. There is variety here, an exploration 
                  of a precise sound-world, a sensitive exploration of text and 
                  sonority, and a — never simplistic — wish to communicate with 
                  fellow performers and with listeners.
                   
                  Jonathan Woolf