This recording was first issued in 1975 but since 
                then the catalogue has not been overwhelmed with recordings of 
                Goudimel’s music. Apart from the inclusion of a few works in various 
                anthologies, the only other major disc of his music seems to be 
                Naxos’s Psalms of the French Reformation. 
              
 
              
Claude Goudimel was born in Besançon in 
                1514 or the thereabouts. He lived most of his life in Paris, Metz 
                and Lyon. He was at the University of Paris in 1549 and worked 
                for the Parisian printer Nicoal Du Chemin. Goudimel was in Metz 
                for 10 years from about 1557, where he developed close ties with 
                the Reformed Church. He died in Lyons, one of the victims in a 
                massacre of Protestants which followed from the St. Bartholomew’s 
                day massacre in Paris. 
              
 
              
Goudimel’s works are predominantly settings of 
                French psalm translations based on the Geneva psalter. These hundreds 
                of polyphonic psalms far outweigh the surviving songs, motets 
                and masses. The psalms all came with official tunes and Goudimel 
                uses these in two different ways. In ‘Or sus tous humains’ (Now 
                arise all men – a paraphrase of Psalm 47), the work makes uses 
                of imitation of motifs based on the official psalm tune. In other 
                works such as ‘O Seigneur loue ser’ (O Lord, praised shall be 
                – Psalm 130) and ‘Du fons de ma pensée’ (From the bottom 
                of my thoughts – Psalm 75), Goudimel uses the psalm tune as a 
                cantus firmus in the tenor. The two settings ‘Laisse moi desormais’ 
                (Song of Simeon) and ‘Mon coeur rempli’ (My heart full) use texts 
                which were fitted later to pre-existing Goudimel settings of other 
                psalms. The notes do not explain why the original Goudimel psalm 
                settings were not used in these two cases. 
              
 
              
These are not public works; the psalm settings 
                were written for private use as the Protestant worship of the 
                time only allowed the official tunes to be used. So we should 
                imagine a small group of musically talented Protestants coming 
                together in a domestic setting to sing these for devotional entertainment. 
                The come over as a mixture of conventional hymn-like pieces and 
                the fuguing songs of the 17th and 18th century 
                English church. Goudimel is careful to keep the words audible 
                at all times. The motet style pieces which use imitation sound 
                as if they would be rather fun to sing. And this is a pointer 
                to the problem with all the psalms; the musical material is not 
                really of sufficient interest. These are pieces for performers, 
                the music being subservient to the text but enjoyable enough to 
                perform. The choir, the Ensemble Vocal et Instrumental de Lausanne, 
                sound as if they are a large group – you have to take the idea 
                of a domestic performance with a pinch of salt. The performances 
                are attractive enough, though the choir sings with a vibrato that 
                is probably unsuitable for music of the period. I would like to 
                hear smaller scale, more delicate performances of these pieces. 
              
 
              
Goudimel wrote five surviving masses, all are 
                parody masses. "Missa Le bie qu j’ay" is based on the 
                song "Le bien que j’ai" by Jacques Arcadelt. Here it 
                is sung interspersed with plainchant propers, though the booklet 
                does not make this clear. As with the psalm settings, this seems 
                to be music written primarily to be useful and functional, (I 
                could even imagine the Goudimel mass being useful to a modern 
                day Latin Mass choir such as the one in which I sing). The musical 
                material never overwhelms the text, even the passages with four 
                moving parts are written with a startling clarity. And passages 
                of homophony (or near homophony) are frequent; there are very 
                few really extended passages with all four moving parts. The performance 
                from the choir is adequate, if a bit robust. The vigour of the 
                performance might reflect the homely style in which the mass was 
                first performed but it does not bring out the best in the piece. 
                The Benedictus, sung by solo voices, is one the most moving movements. 
                Some of the speeds are rather on the slow side, which reflects 
                the conductor’s generally romantic view of the works. As with 
                the psalms, the amount of vibrato seems anachronistic and I would 
                like to hear a smaller scale more subtle performance of the mass. 
              
 
              
Rather curiously, the disc is completed by performances 
                of three organ pieces by Sweelinck, performed by Xavier Darasse. 
                No information is given about the organ used for these pieces. 
                Sweelinck was one of those composers whose influence transcended 
                the rather narrow confines of his personal life. He never left 
                the Netherlands but his fame as an improviser and the fine quality 
                and wide range of his pupils meant that his influence spread as 
                far as Eastern Europe. The performances by Darasse are stylish 
                and polished. Why they have been tacked on to a disc of music 
                by Goudimel (the two almost certainly had no links at all) is 
                anybody's guess. 
              
 
              
Robert Hugill