The booklet accompanying this disc features a biography-cum-interview with Frederica von Stade, but nothing about the songs This is a shame, as the programme includes a few valuable rarities. Honegger's Petit cours de morale (''A small course in morals'') affords some cross-Channel amusement, as each of the moral ditties is a sketch of a British subject such as the well-travelled Spencer, who has learned that man's imagination can be bigger than the whole world. The three Messiaen songs, written in 1930, are the composer's earliest published works for solo voice. The sentimental Pourquoi? sounds like anybody but Messiaen, until the piano postlude unexpectedly bursts into bird-song, but La fiancee perdue is more predictable in its religious ecstasy. Von Stade has the measure of both composers' styles and the inestimable support of Martin Katz at the piano.
The notes remind us that von Stade has been a leading exponent of Debussy's Melisande, the role chosen for her twenty-fifth anniversary at the Met this year. Its wistfulness and fey vulnerability suit her to perfection, but unfortunately there is rather too much of Melisande to be heard on this disc Ravel's Cinq melodies populaires grecques, in particular, demand more rhythmic life (compare Mady Mesple on EMI's complete set of Ravel songs 9/87—nla). In the first of Debussy's Ariettes oubliees, ''C'est l'extase langoureuse'', there is languorous ecstasy to spare; the tempo is slowish and the portamentos droop wiltingly. Her singing in slow music can feel enervating and it is a good thing there is more pointed Poulenc and Satie alongside. Admirers of von Stade will be glad to hear that the voice is as delicately coloured in the middle register as ever, though some strain has started to creep in at the top. At the climax of Debussy's ''L'ombre des arbres'' the highest leaves (the ''hautes feuilles'') are almost out of her reach. Katz makes an accommodating accompanist, but might with profit have indulged his singer less. An interesting programme, none the less.'