This 1994 disc is something of a classic of the new strain of the historical-performance movement, which is characterized by a certain amount of license to speculate in the reconstruction of lost works. The Miserere mei Deus of Gregorio Allegri is, of course, not a lost work, but one with an unbroken performance tradition stretching back to its composition in the early seventeenth century (before 1638). It was sung for centuries at the Sistine Chapel, where the singers were enjoined from circulating the music beyond Vatican walls. That prohibition wasn't enough to stop the 12-year-old Mozart, who wrote most of it down by ear as a tourist in Rome and filled in the gaps on a quick return visit; soon after that, British music writer Charles Burney got hold of either Mozart's copy (which hasn't survived) or another one and published the work.

This recording is an excellent place to start in acquiring an appreciation of Handel's operas, with the outstanding mezzo-soprano Lorraine Hunt in the title role and leading a fine cast that includes soprano Juliana Gondek, mezzo Jennifer Lane, and bass Nicolas Cavallier. The plot–an only slightly convoluted tale of true love put to the test by scheming villainy–stands up better than many stories set by the likes of Verdi and Bellini, and Handel had longer than usual to write the music, a fact which shows in the opera's low clunker-to-gold ratio. There is not a weak voice in the cast, and McGegan leads the singers and the Freiburger Barockorchester with idiomatic flair; alternative scenes are provided for those who just can't get enough.

The self-empowered diva breaks free of earthly restraints to float in an art-jazz universe of her own cut-and-paste design. Inspired perhaps by her pal Holly Cole, Jane Siberry shapes her surprisingly malleable voice and impressionistic lyrics to a variety of free-form moods whipped up by a skilled ensemble. "See The Child"'s hypnotic verbal and musical motifs make it a highlight along with the propulsive "Lovin' Cup" and lovely "Goodbye Sweet Pumpkinhead." It's challenging stuff for her mainstream fans, but that's okay–this is a bold, noteworthy experiment by an artist who remains bound by nothing but the beauty.

Singing trombonist Jack Teagarden came up in the jazz and dance bands of his native Texas and the surrounding territories. By the end of the '20s he was making noise with the Eddie Condon mob in New York City, where the South-and-Midwesterners quickly learned that authentic, New Orleans-Chicago-styled jazz could be performed in public if you didn't need to eat more than one meal per day. The paying gigs were with society dance bands, and Teagarden made ends meet during the first half of 1930 by serving in the brass sections of orchestras under the direction of Ben Selvin and Sam Lanin, as well as the toothpowder and toothpaste-affiliated Ipana Troubadours. This type of economic problem solving would lead to his being contractually tethered to the Paul Whiteman Orchestra during the years 1933-1939. In 2006, the Jazz Oracle label released a thrilling 25-track collection of recordings that document Teagarden's professional activity during the first grueling months of the Great Depression.