Natalie Dessay and Philippe Cassard’s ‘Fiançailles pour rire’ ostensibly forms a sequel to their 2011 Debussy disc ‘Clair de lune’, and like it may well divide opinion. Its aim, however, is somewhat different. Where its predecessor was structured round first recordings of unpublished material, this is a straightforward survey of French mélodies. As one might expect, though, from an artist who once styled herself an actress first and a singer second, Dessay can be idiosyncratic: if you value sound over sense in this repertoire, you might need a period of adjustment before her strengths become apparent.

Dessay’s tone can nowadays turn acidic under pressure and a pulse creeps in from time to time, most noticeably in the opening Fauré group. You can’t fault her dynamic control or sense of line, but anyone who equates Chausson with pristine tonal beauty or Duparc with voluptuous warmth may find the voice itself unsettling. Against that must be set Dessay’s beguiling way with words. The almost casual intimacy with which she projects a text is very apparent in Poulenc’s two de Vilmorin cycles, the reflective Trois poèmes and Fiançailles pour rire itself, in which she holds the music’s emotional directness and de Vilmorin’s riddling imagery in perfect balance. In Fauré’s Verlaine settings, the words, similarly, speak as much as the music: the sly wit with which she delivers ‘Mandoline’ is utterly beguiling. Her Duparc can be disquieting: ‘Au pays où se fait la guerre’ is a study of gathering unease, in which the usual nostalgia, we realise, actually has little place; ‘Extase’ sounds vaguely indecent, as it should.

Cassard is wonderfully elegant, refined and super-subtle throughout. There are a couple of guest appearances, mercifully free from gimmickry. Laurent Naouri, Dessay’s husband, joins her for Poulenc’s regretfully erotic ‘Colloque’. The Quatuor Ebène, meanwhile, do fine things in Chausson’s ‘Chanson perpétuelle’, much recorded of late: Dessay is more overtly tragic here than Marie Nicole Lemieux (Naïve) and Karine Deshayes (Aparté) in their recent versions. Stick with the disc if you’re unsure of it at first hearing – it takes its time to fully yield its secrets and get under your skin.