Over time, John Rutter has carved out a niche as a British counterpart to 
Randall Thompson. His agreeable, vocally grateful choral music benefits from 
professional performances, but, like Thompson's, can also be effectively 
rendered by well-trained amateurs. Much of his music harks back to the 
traditional Anglican church style, flavored with more modern touches - irregular 
meters and diatonic dissonances. His handling of the orchestra is accomplished 
if sometimes generic, with nicely varied textures, though the solo clarinet too 
handily evokes quiet introspection, and cymbal rolls make the big perorations 
sound slick. The cognoscenti are apt to sneer at the "inspirational" texts, both 
literary and original, but, with the right care, at least some of these pieces 
can be sincerely inspiring. 

The Gift of Life, for chorus and orchestra, was written in 2015, a "celebration 
of life" as a counterpart to a Requiem's reflection on death. The cycle of six 
pieces juxtaposes appropriately celebratory compositions with more ruminative 
ones, incorporating the occasional distinctive touch. In the coda of the first 
piece, "O all ye works of the Lord," Rutter underlines its joyous affirmation by 
playing the standard Doxology against the main theme. In "Hymn to the Creator of 
Light," the chorus' unison start is oddly angular, supported by similarly 
angular harmonies, the better to set off the following overtly diatonic, 
devotional section. "O Lord, how manifold are thy works" begins in a pastoral 
mode, its broad cello phrases recalling Vaughan Williams; it too builds up to 
assertive climaxes. At the start of "Believe in life," midrange horn obbligatos 
enrich the sonority; the effect, which could have been tawdry, is warm and 
enveloping.

The chorus is astutely trained, assured even in such tricky moments as the 
exposed entry in "The gift of each day" at the theme's return. The men are 
well-blended, but with some chiaroscuro - the unison timbres take in both tenor 
and bass elements - and their strophe in "Believe in life" goes with a nice 
restraint. The women are straight- and clear-toned, sounding a bit like a 
grown-up boys' choir; even so, they betray no strain even on their higher lines 
in "The Tree of Life." The only cavil is that enunciation is somewhat blunted in 
the larger-scaled pieces; it's better in the softer ones.

The program fills out the forty-minute cycle with seven other diverse 
compositions for chorus and orchestra. "Give the king thy judgements, O God" 
recalls the ceremonial music of Elgar and Walton, also taking in a Gibbons a 
cappella hymn setting and a subsequent passage of "modern" rhythms. In "The 
Quest," the women do betray some tightness in the "In paradisum" section, though 
it's artfully disguised. "Christ is the morning star" begins serenely and 
transparency, achieving a reverent awe before the dignified, joyful final 
strophe. "Rejoice and sing," which concludes the program, maintains a sprightly 
Christmas-carol mood even as the textures fill out.

The Royal Philharmonic sounds polished beyond the London orchestras' usual 
session-reading level; that important principal clarinet contributes numerous 
liquid, shapely phrases. The sound is pleasing, with anomalies. The chorus 
actually sounds more closely recorded in the quieter pieces than elsewhere; the 
solo trio in "Psalm 150," located in the dome of St. Paul's at the premiere, 
actually sounds closer than everyone else; and I didn't hear any particular 
directional effects on the double choir in "Hymn to the Creator of Light."