I sat for a while listening to No (h) play; [...] extraordinarily slow, belching, hideous declamation and arioso, both solo and chorus, the very antithesis of the delicacy & poignancy of the text: like Papal Bulls and Papal Pigs roaring, squealing & grunting: and very beautiful snatches of a mad-scene flute; and those wooden hammers urging it on.  It is almost unassimilable, would be quite, if it had not an authority of extreme technique and tradition.