Missa Aedis Christi is the title of both this disc and the major work; but the disc as a whole celebrates a project born in 2020. This was the “New Music Project 2020,” intended to generate a series of contemporary pieces to celebrate the church year. The fruits are held on this disc, with Grayson Ives’s Missa brevis, Missa Aedis Christi (literally, “Mass in the House of Christ”), as the centerpiece, with a constellation of new anthems around it. In addition, there are the Alternative Canticles by James Potter, who was director of the Cathedral Singers from 2016 to 2022.

The service opens with a magisterial organ solo leading to the massive choral statement of “God, to whom all creatures bring / Psalm, and praise and thanksgiving” of David Bedhall’s A Hymn of George Bell. Bell was an Archbishop of Canterbury, as well as a former Christ Church scholar. The piece nicely contrasts pomp (the celebration of God) against a quieter meditation on Nature itself (“Birds with rich melodious notes”). The swell back into full praise here is impressive indeed; the recording easily holds the vast wave of sound. This is inspiring choral music fully in the English cathedral tradition.

This acts as a perfect lead into the major work here, the Missa Aedis Christi by Grayston Ives. This is a four-voice “Christ Church Mass” that uses plainchant as its source material; it is interspersed with other compositions. The Kyrie opens against a restrained, almost gray organ opening; it is short, and its beauty implies that perhaps there should be more. There is a nice complexity to the harmonies, a sort of slowly roiling harmonic mist that slowly but surely clears. The Cathedral Singers of Christ Church, Oxford is a fabulous choir, with each line beautifully balanced. Ben Rowrath’s A New Year Carol follows, an intriguing piece from a composer who, like most here, is new to the Fanfare Archive. Rowarth takes two texts for his piece, one being Hans Christian Andersen’s The Little Match Girl and the other an anonymous New Year carol text also used by Britten in Friday Afternoons. Narration meets single-line plainchant references. This is skillfully conceived and superlatively performed; the exposed single lines are delivered to perfection.

The Sanctus, Benedictus, and Agnus Dei of the Missa Aedis Christi are next presented together. The movement order is realigned, too: This is movements three through five; the second movement of the Mass, the Gloria comes later (per the order of the Communion service in the Book of Common Prayer). Certainly, the Sanctus has a hypnotic and aspirational gait that fits well with the Rowarth, while the drooping phrases of the Benedictus lead to a rather darkly lit “Hosanna in excelsis.” Most affecting, though, is the beautiful Agnus Dei, with the organ’s commentary adding stabs of dissonant pain against the choir’s lamentations. The Oxford choir’s sustaining powers over this movement ensure its success, while the sopranos are completely unfazed by the composer’s demands toward the climax, exhibiting no harshness of tone.

Another piece with two texts is now inserted: Bertie Baigent’s Rise Heart, using Metaphysical poet George Herbert’s words as well as a Latin text for Easter Monday. Arrivals at “Alleluia” are moments of tranquility; the organ glistens around them. Later, the same word in repetition acts as an energetic as well as dynamic decrescendo. This is another fine composition, imaginatively conceived; Baigent is another composer from whom I would like to hear more.

And so we move on to the Gloria of the Mass, announced by a passage of chant, a movement that grows steadily in animation, with its rhythmic process perfectly tracked by conductor Hilary Punnett. An organ interlude comes next, and just to clarify, this is one movement, “Lauda Sion,” from Anthony Gray’s set of preludes and fantasies based on the teachings of St. Thomas Aquinas. The set was premiered by the present organist, who is sub-organist at Southward Cathedral; Aquinas’ texts were read in between the movements by Canon Kathryn Fleming. On this showing, Gray’s piece is magnificent. The Oxford organ shines, and Gray’s imagination seems to be as multicolored as a church window, spreading itself over what is obviously a vast canvas. Simon Hogan is a true virtuoso, and this is a clear highlight of the disc. While the movements of the piece are designed also to be stand-alone entities, to my ears it is clear that now we need to hear the entire composition.

Fascinatingly, Sarah Rimkus’s anthem The God Who Sees Me is a celebration of individuality, of difference, and a knowledge of God’s acceptance of life’s rich panoply. It is spectacularly achieved, too—not in virtuoso terms, as this is a slowly-evolving piece, but in terms of an emerging radiance through accruing texture and harmonic sophistication. Sarah Davies (from the choir) is the excellent soprano soloist. It’s nice to have a choir-only piece, after the spotlighting of the organ; careful programming pays off.

Similarly interestingly, the disc has opted to provide alternative canticles in a piece called exactly that. So, instead of the “Mag and Nunc,” we have two alternatives authorized by the Book of Common Prayer: “Cantate Domino” (O sing unto the Lord) and “Deus Misereatur” (God be merciful unto us), with music by James Potter. The settings succeed via their prayer-like simplicity and plainchant basis. Christ Church Oxford’s diction is its greatest strength here, maintaining melodic flow while projecting every syllable. The settings are fairly extensive, and the recording captures the bloom of the venue well.

The final choral piece is Alison Willis’s Regina coeli, for choir and organ. Although I do not particularly warm to soloist Daniel Couchman’s voice here, the piece itself is inspirational in its later radiance; the underpinning of choral chant against a bath of organ is a lovely touch. There is an organ recessional, of course, here a Toccata by the established composer Cheryl Frances-Hoad. Composed for Simon Hogan and first performed at Christ Church in July 2023, with much of the musical material derived from Hogan’s own name, the piece uses a huge range of texture; it is brilliant and yet profound at the same time. Hogan is in complete command; composer, performer, and recording come together to create the ideal performance.

This is a carefully crafted program, lovingly delivered and well recorded; strongly recommended.