The Eight Overtures of Thomas Arne do not quite possess the energy, the freshness or the technical solidity of the better-known Eight Symphonys of his rival, William Boyce, but they do have much charm of their own. The first movements are mostly in some degree French-overturish, but with a very English relaxing of the Gallic formality; but Arne writes too some very dutiful fugues (a remarkably genial one in No. 1, one on an abnormally lengthy subject in No. 2, a double one in No. 6), and there are some appealing slow movements and attractive dances. It is the slow movements above all, I think, that bear the strongest witness to Arne's unique gifts. His music is uneven, but any dullish or routine movement is apt to be followed by one that takes your breath away with its charm or originality—try for example the graceful Andante e piano of No. 1, wistful, graceful, quirkily English in the shape of its lines, or the plaintive little D minor Andante e piano of No. 5. Some of the overtures, originally written for theatre or semitheatrical works, have a more grandiose manner: the last, from The Judgment of Paris, in particular, but also the cne from Comus, No. 7, with its ringing trumpets. Another, No. 4, has concertante parts for two horns.

All this music is played in a very spirited fashion by the Academy, under Christopher Hogwood whose understanding of, and sympathy for, the music are unrivalled (this was, I believe, their first recording). Standards of precision in the playing of period instruments have of course risen in the 20 years since this recording was made (the sound of the oboes is the sharpest reminder of that), but the particular spirit of these pieces is most happily caught and there is much that is very delightful and unmistakably the music of an eccentric Englishman.

-- Gramophone [11/1993, reviewing the original release of the overtures, L'Oiseau Lyre 436859]

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Much the longest item on the other side is the Arne cantata, Bacchus and Ariadne, which was probably written for Vauxhall Gardens and published about 1765. Except for the final section it is Italianate in the grand manner, though Arne surely had his tongue in his cheek when he spiced the accompaniment with such exaggerated descriptive detail. When Ariadne drinks "the potent draught", it flows through her veins with astonishing celerity if the semiquavers on the violins are to be believed. In the last section Arne reverts to his English style in a splendidly bucolic piece complete with rousing horn parts, and Robert Tear, who has been good all through, finds just the right touch of inebriation. He is also excellent in the much shorter and earlier cantata, Fair Celia love pretended. The first aria in this shows Arne at his very best. But all the music on this side is very well worth hearing. The song of "Momus to Mars", which comes out of Boyce's setting of The Secular Masque by Dryden. is superbly alive, and though I am not sure that Mr Tear's small additions in the repeats quite come off, he gets well inside the music. He sings the Hook enchantingly. This is not great music by a long way, but its charm is undeniable.

-- Gramophone [10/1970, reviewing the original LP releases of the Arne cantatas]