Closing off their summer festival of early music, Charivari Agréable gave us the fourth performance of their set of English devotional works for four voices - a chronological amble through about 150 years of music.

It was a typically high minded affair – carefully assembled to show how religious music changed over that time, clearly developed with care, knowledge and respect for the composers’ intent, containing moments of great beauty and occasionally (as early music often is) bracingly arid.

Usually it’s the older works that are harder to listen to. Byrd’s Mass for Four Voices – the whole work scattered across the first half, interspersed with organ music, is a masterpiece of Tudor musical style and has all of that style’s majesty and intricacy. It also had all of its flaws – a slightly cramped, obsessive circling around its own harmonic rules that in the wrong hands can feel a bit repetitive.

Luckily, the four soloists under Kah-Ming Ng had solved that problem elegantly. Skilled, sensitive and impressively aware of the acoustics of the space they were in, they made great play with dynamic range, each cadence shown in a new light so that things remained compelling throughout.

It was a shame that the Exeter College organ, played by Ng himself, couldn’t manage the same trick, so that his solo pieces occasionally sounded a little soggy.

The second half moved us on to the baroque era, where the music becomes more interesting and varied to the modern ear. The harmonies open out, and we are given a chance to hear the four singers more clearly in solo and duet passages.

This confirmed Charivari Agréable’s talent for pulling together the right ensemble for the job. Michael Hickman (bass) was somewhat mannered, but this was offset by Simon Beston’s naturalistic tenor. James Armitage was a dramatic counter-tenor, while Olwen Turchetta’s soprano tackled even the most ornamented passages with brisk calm (although she was the most physically mobile of the group – almost dancing at points!).

If I had one criticism of the second half, it was that a purist adherence to the programme’s concept left us with an underwhelming finale. By strict chronology, Boyce’s The Heavens Declare belonged at the end, but while this piece had its moments, it served to remind us why Purcell is better remembered – it’s a somewhat stiff and disjointed affair, notable in what was otherwise a fascinating evening.