History tends to forgive artists if they’re any good. Although Renaissance composer Carlo Gesualdo murdered his wife in 1590, he was not prosecuted on account of being a nobleman.

Billed as a play but actually an accompanying monologue, Clare Norburn’s Breaking The Rules imagines Gesualdo’s final confession and sets it alongside a selection of his music, sung here by the Marian Consort.

The music won. A vast, echoing interior is a space for singing, not speaking, which is why Renaissance choral music kept a low word count. Every bit as arresting as they are transcendent, the modest forces of the Marian Consort filled the air with harmonies that bloomed one from another, their particular skill being an intonation so precise that single notes sounded at first like natural harmonics before gathering a more palpable force.

Here music was sung with such heavenly perfection that not even the most leaden script could weigh it down. Despite that peering down the long darkened nave as if through time, with the singers grouped in a distant miniature, invited a judgement down the centuries, the considerable sins of Carlo Gesualdo were rendered insignificant interrruptions to the composer’s extraordinary musical vision.