folk federation journal, new south wales

I should perhaps begin by stating that I'm not strictly an impartial reviewer here. I've been a Renaissance Player before and, after hearing this two CD set, I wish I still was. Sprawling across two CDs, Winsome Evans has sculpted a programme that (providing you have functioning ears and like good music) is sure to engage and delight. Winsome's the kind of musical director who enjoys drawing links between seemingly disparate musics and traditions. Her instrumental arrangements, for example, owe more to the similarly catholic approaches of Thomas Binkley and David Munrow (who delved into the folk traditions of north Africa, Spain and west Asia in their interpretations of early music), than to the ascetic stringency of Christopher Page and the current crop of "less–is–more" directors of early music ensembles. For Winsome, music is, most definitely, more.

The instrumental colours are varied and mostly well–suited to the songs—(I wasn't convinced by the bowed diwan saz [a long–necked Turkish flute] accompanying the Wexford carol). Scattered throughout these discs we hear wood flutes, gemshorn, harp, harpsichord, mandolin and mandora, chitarra moresca (a plucked string instrument originating with the Moors), gadulka (a Bulgarian fiddle), rebec, baroque viola and cello, and a good deal more. Many of these Winsome plays herself, always with consummate proficiency. Her harp playing, in particular, is inventive, connecting fluidly with the phrasing of the voices and the instruments it accompanies. The rest of the instrumental band are equally inspired, though special mention should go to Sally Treloyn on flutes (listen to The darkest midnight, for example), and Michael Hooper on mandolin and mandora.

In geographical terms the ground covered is immense: the repertoire originates from the United States in the west (a couple of African-American spirituals), to Greece in the east (The dance of zalongou, sung by Mina Kanaridis, is gorgeous and worth the price of the disk alone); and from Finland in the north (an arrangement and performance of Gaudete that knocks Maddy Prior and her mates out cold), to Spain in the south (a typically exuberant and boisterous setting of a traditional Spanish choir, De las montañas venimos). The point of all this travel is to demonstrate the "connective aspects of angels (the celestial), shepherds (the terrestrial), and dancing circles (in the structures and arrangements of music and poetry, in dance formations, and so on)...the offerings constitute a sort of aural banquet".

As is probably apparent from the quote above, the CD liner notes (and this is always the case with a Winsome Evans release) are exemplary. There is so much information here (ranging from profundity to incidental trivia), that it could easily form the basis of a full tome. It is well–written and lucid, and while the scholarship is readily apparent it's never dull—Winsome's tongue seems to spend considerable time lodged adjacent to her cheek. The humour extends to the performances as well—Winsome's arrangements for harpsichord, the occasional title (Jesus' disco caper, indeed), Krysia Mansfield and Simon Lobelson's singing—not all of it, admittedly to my taste. I confess, too, to a disliking to some of the vocal sounds—my preference is for the lighter, agile voices (Mina Kanaridis is perfect in this respect), than for the heavier, trained–sounding voices which tend to labour the ornamentation and occasionally stray pitchwise from the centre of the note.

While the discs feature musicality aplenty in the performances of the Players, the relative success or failure of the project rests squarely on the shoulders of Winsome Evans. She doesn't disappoint. Her compositional contributions to the texts without recorded melodies are both appropriate and memorable (the musical setting for the evocative, Lulllay mun lykyng, certainly matches it with a text that has been described as the masterpiece of the lullaby carols'). Her arrangements, her playing, and perhaps most of all, her vision for the collection are similarly well–wrought: Testament is a small gesture against scientific technological and economic "advances" as a reminder of what the human imagination has been able to accomplish in the past and continues to so untrammelled by "advances" in a simple environment of hope and belief. A Luddite manifesto may feel anachronistic as I techo–post this e-mail review to the editor, but a paean to the achievements of the human imagination is a welcome sound to my ears.

• Kim Poole