Much has been made of Vittorio Grigòlo’s background, including early years in in the choir of the Sistine Chapel and a brush with the crossover group Il Divo. When he first burst on to the major opera stages he showed a very grown-up voice, capable of considerable thrills, if not allied to a very highly developed sense of style – or, for that matter, a robust technique.

As far as it’s possible to tell, there’s still a serious voice somewhere on this disc of French arias, but one that now often sounds undernourished and unsupported. At least that is what I can detect through the engineering – a treacly, mendacious travesty that positions the voice far too close and within its own hazy, reverberant acoustic. The orchestra is placed well back: its playing under Evelino Pidò is, unsurprisingly, bland and dutiful.

Sadly, the sound is well suited to the tenor’s breathy, croony and self-indulgent delivery. Instead of legato lines we have a bumpy ride punctuated by emphases, snatched breaths and delicate sobs (sample the end of Carmen’s Flower Song for an example). A booklet essay includes words from the tenor about the different roles featured but none of his perfectly sensible insights comes across. What does come across is a desire to straddle crossover and opera. That’s fine, I suppose, and he wouldn’t be the first tenor to have his cake and eat it; but anyone genuinely interested in opera will be disappointed.