I don’t know whether Poulenc ever read any Jung‚ but he was certainly in close touch with his anima. His heroines‚ often suffering‚ as in these two works‚ readily take upon themselves Poulenc’s own depressive and even hysterical character. But not only is the rejected woman in La voix humaine Poulenc himself (he admitted as much)‚ she is also Denise Duval‚ the first interpreter of the work‚ for whom it was written. Duval has said that both she and the composer were in what the tabloids call ‘love tangles’ at the time and that the work spoke for both of them. So it’s a brave act for any other soprano to compete with her 1959 recording‚ let alone someone who is not French. Felicity Lott is one of the few British sopranos who could hope to come close. And she does. The voice is in excellent shape‚ the French likewise. The recording does not place her so firmly in the limelight as Duval’s‚ while Jordan draws fine playing from the orchestra – maybe not quite as explosive as Prêtre in the emotional outbursts‚ but if anything with more of the sensualité orchestrale that Poulenc asked for. Voice and orchestra‚ then‚ become more of an entity‚ and I feel both approaches have their points. But the crux is the singer’s handling of the conversational French in Cocteau’s text. Does Dame Felicity turn the heart over with her ‘mais oui‚ mon chéri’? Does she teeter on the edge of madness in the repeated ‘Mon Dieu‚ faites qu’il redemande!’ (O God‚ make him ring back!)? This is obviously a very personal matter‚ and in saying ‘not quite’ I’m prepared to face disagreement. Perhaps the problems in Duval’s love life constituted an unfair advantage‚ like her previous stint at the Folies Bergère (Poulenc raved over the way she played the role as in a boulevard melodrama). I hope it is no slur on Dame Felicity’s vocal or histrionic abilities to suggest that hysteria and vulgarity are not really her natural territory. She seems to me more at home in La dame de Monte­Carlo‚ also on a Cocteau text but this time in verse. The top of the voice is radiant where Mady Mesplé’s (available in the same box set) is sometimes shrill and marred by heavy vibrato‚ and throughout she captures exactly the right tone of outraged dignity.