It seems perverse, in a necessarily brief review, to make a mystery or a penance where essentially all is delight. In his short introductory notes John Rutter speaks very frankly of his own position: "I found out a long time ago that if a composer's music starts to reach too many people, it pretty soon gets attacked by those who would prefer the non-specialist public to be kept at arm's length" and (of the Requiem) "I suppose that some will find the sense of comfort and consolation in it facile, but it was what I meant at the time I wrote it, in the shadow of a bereavement of my own." The personal element in both sentences is perfectly acceptable and understandable, yet something is not quite squarely put. If "facile" is a word that might relevantly come into play, it need not be with regard to the "comfort and consolation" (it conceivably could have something to do with the music itself); and if the relatively popular composer's work is indeed "attacked", that may not be entirely out of a wish for exclusiveness. But let's try to put the issue squarely ourselves. Here is music finely crafted, written with love for the art and an especial care for choral sound. It is melodious without being commonplace, harmonically rich without being sticky, modern in the graceful way of a child who grows up responsive to newness but not wanting to kick his elders in the teeth. He gives us, in large measure, the heart's desire: we listen saying "Ah yes!" and with a half-foreseen satisfaction "Yes, Of course! Lovely!" But he's on too familiar terms with our heart's desires, doesn't extend them, or surprise us into realizing that they were deeper and subtler than we thought.

Though the Requiem will no doubt be its main selling-point, the disc's principal recommendation lies in the other works included, especially the three written for the choir who now record them. The Cantus, which has the single word "Alleluia" as its text, is performed with brass ensemble; What sweeter music is a setting of Herrick's carol and was composed for King's "Service of Nine Lessons and Carols" of 1987, Veni Sancte Spiritus, also with organ, was composed for this recording. The Te Deum originally had organ accompaniment only and was later orchestrated while the version heard here, a particularly attractive one, dates from in between those, and uses both organ and the splendid Wallace Collection of brass players.

The composer adds notes for the booklet, mentioning in the first paragraph how the sound of King's Chapel, its choir and organ, had been a probable "subconscious influence". He also gives his stamp of approval to the present recordings: not only do the three pieces written for King's "sound exactly right here, just as I imagined them" but "so does everything else". That must include the Requiem, which is taken at a generally faster tempo than in his own recording. This is a feature that King's share with the other version on record, by Stephen Layton's Polyphony. My own preference is for either of the others, in their different ways, rather than the new one: Layton's is more sharply etched, the voices fuller in tone and, I think, more imaginative in sympathy, while Rutter's slower tempo puts a different complexion on the work, one which, despite his support for King's, must presumably have been closer to his original intentions.

The King's recording falls somewhere between the other two, not as the happy medium but as the least characterful. This view is strengthened by a further comparison. The fine and festal Cantate Domino goes, one thinks, well enough as sung by King's, but with Polyphony everything is tightened up - tempo, rhythm, contrast - and the result is exhilarating.

COMPOSER John Rutter made a great impression on a Torquay audience, when he came to speak to Torbay Recorded Music Society earlier this year.

A new full-price Hyperion disc of his choral music, comprising the Requiem (almost 36 minutes) and several other pieces written for a host of varying occasions, is easy to recommend. It is sung by Polyphony with the Bournemouth Sinfonietta, conducted by Stephen Layton.

Rutter's music is always approachable, for which he offers no apology; indeed, writing in the excellent programme note he declares that "given a choice between critical approbation and a chance of touching the hearts of people outside the limited circle of contemporary music aficionados, I know which I prefer."

His Requiem follows not in the dramatic path Berlioz or Verdi but is more in the contemplative style of Brahms, Duruflé and particularly, Fauré. It is made up of a personal selection of texts, some of them from the Requiem Mass and from the l662 Book of Common Prayer.

So we have Requiem aeternam, Pie Jesu, Sanctus, Agnus Dei and Lux aeterna, along with two settings of psalms (Out of deep and The Lord is my shepherd). There are many moments of contemplation, of joy (particularly in the Sanctus, with its bells), along with the hint of deeper mysteries in the Lux aeterna.

The whole disc is marvellously sung and accompanied, with soprano Rosa Mannion offering a distinguished contribution in the PieJesu. There are some absolute gems of miniature choral writing in the other Pieces, and this disc will become a treasured possession of many listeners. If the members of Torbay Recorded Music Society are wondering what to give their musical friends for Christmas.. they should look no further.

Few John Rutter fans will be without a copy of the composer's own Collegium recording of his Requiem. But given the piece's immense and widespread popularity, alternative versions, like this one, are bound to proliferate. The cello-led spiritual 'Out of the Deep' probes deeper waters than the anodyne opening movement, but both are charmingly sung by consistently well-balanced voices. Rutter's instrumentation undoubtedly helps lift the piece, and the subtle Bournemouth woodwind and percussion are enchanting. Rosa Mannion has just the right voice: genuine, unaffectedly beautiful and free from sentiment. Even the Duruflé-like transitions feel unaffected - never glutinous - and a naughtily Brittenesque Sanctus glistens. The dark Agnus Dei is a triumph.

Not, then, merely Gebrauchsmusik, but a lovely piece overall (the Lux aeterna could almost be Parry). It's intelligently textured and particularly well-judged for the forces, whose restraint and lack of frayed edges here are a joy. Only occasionally does the recording reveal just a touch of distortion at climaxes. Who needs big record company 'mood' music when a simple polished gem like this is uniformly ten times better?

There are ten other Rutter pieces on the disc: their styles range from sub-Tavener to sub-Walford Davies to sub-wishwash; but they are all brilliantly mastered. Two gorgeously worded madrigals stand out. This singlecomposer disc is a joy

Hyperion have done John Rutter proud with this disc, and he them. The Requiem, for all its acknowledged influences, works as a coherent whole. Amid its well-judged alternation of dark and light textures, an optimism prevails, but one that is never glutinous. This is a Requiem free of 'Dies Irae'; soft tympani sound a warning in the 'Agnus', and the Burial Service text 'Man that is born' its note of reconciliation with death: but the encounter is a serene one, and not facile for that.

Cello, horn, flute, harp and Rosa Mannion, splendid in middle register as well as in the Pie Jesu's exquisite rising close, uplift this top-notch Bournemouth offering. Polyphony bring meticulous balance and intonation to bear throughout. Amid ten generous fillers, an extra take might have helped lift two slightly more humdrum tracks, or improve the odd slurred final consonant. The madrigal setting, Draw on Sweet Night and Hymn to the Creator (Tavener evolving, enticingly, into Poulenc) are first rate. Producer Mark Brown works wonders with Hyperion's balancing.

The highland audience was introduced to the music of Britain’s foremost contemporary composer of choral music when Rutter’s exuberant Latin American flavoured "Mass" was performed by Inverness Choral Society a couple of years ago. In scale and mood, his "Requiem" resembles that by Fauré with a nod to Back in its use of instrumental solos. Full of beautiful tunes and harmonies, the score – which includes a setting of the 23^rd Psalm  – treads a fine line between spirituality and sentiment and is radiantly sung by Stephen Layton’s 17-strong choir and guest soloist Rosa Mannion.

John Rutter's written introduction to this disc includes a curiously petulant defence of his craft. He complains that some critics malign his music for its popularity. Hardly. Its populism, maybe. Its magpie tendencies, certainly. Howells, Fauré, Duruflé, Canteloube, Sibelius and Lloyd Webber flit across a typically well-crafted score which has many moments of eloquence and a few of mere sentiment.

The music of the contemporary English composer John Rutter has gained a measure of popularity, and this disc amply illustrated why. Many listeners instinctively shy away from 20th century music, although the work of the trendy minimalists (Pärt, Gorécki et al) has built an audience for new music, and Rutter's work can be added to the list of 'safe ground' for wary collectors. It's tuneful and accessible, and Layton's forces receive an excellent recording on this disc.