In his booklet note to this disc of love duets, Roberto Alagna argues that all the female characters represent different aspects of Puccini’s ‘perfect woman’, while the tenors represent the composer himself. It’s a fair proposition, but Alagna then claims that ‘all his couples could be one and the same couple’. This is worrying. Even within their Parisian settings, there’s a wide boulevard between Rodolfo and Mimì’s innocent Christmas Eve declaration of love and the tortured, illicit affair between Giorgetta and Luigi aboard a sweaty barge on the Seine. Stringing together 10 duets from seven operas and linking them with ‘stage directions’ in italics strikes me as someone forcing a concept just a little bit too hard.

Alagna is here partnered by his wife, the delightful soprano Aleksandra Kurzak. It’s not quite their first recorded project together – Warner recently issued Massenet’s La Navarraise (reviewed last month) – but unites them in repertoire they wouldn’t, perhaps, perform together often on stage. Kurzak sparkles in Rossini and Donizetti but is starting to take on weightier roles – Violetta, Desdemona, Alice Ford. Yet she’s only sung Mimì of the Puccini heroines here (she also sings Liù), with her debut as Cio-Cio-San scheduled for Naples in May. So how does she fare?

While Kurzak doesn’t have the vocal steel to wound Scarpia, her Tosca teases coyly in ‘Non la sospiri, la nostra casetta’. However, she doesn’t sound especially piqued that Cavaradossi has painted the Madonna with blue eyes. Her Manon Lescaut is a charmer – Kurzak can play the minx deliciously – and her Magda in La rondine has a nice touch of cream. She lacks the heft for Minnie and Giorgetta. Puccini is more meat-and-drink to Alagna, whose Italianate timbre and open-hearted, open-throated sound is ideal; even Calaf, not represented here, is in his repertoire. He’s on fine, robust form. Riccardo Frizza and Sinfonia Varsovia offer opulent orchestral support.

There’s a certain similarity of approach to these varied characters, though, almost as if wanting to prove Alagna’s ‘same couple’ claim. Where’s the rugged bandit? Or the rootin’-tootin’ saloon owner? Or the burly bargee? Characterisation is limited, although their singing is never less than lovely. Bohème’s ‘O soave fanciulla’ is ideal, though, with a beautifully floated final note from Kurzak, and they save the very best until last: a glorious Butterfly love duet that is both tender and ardent.