And they say the contralto is an extinct breed! Hear these regal tones ascend the scale in “Nebbie” and descend to repose luxuriously on the low B, there to call with such plaintive majesty “Vieni, vieni!”. Sara Mingardo is of course well known to us but usually in association with the Baroque repertoire, which exploits the upper regions of the voice and displays the fluency of her passagework more than the richness of her sustained tones. In these songs we get the full measure of that and also the dramatic quality inherent in voices of such depth when guided, as this is, by a strongly emotional imagination.

But I suppose we should attend first to the composer, for he and his kind represent a species which, like the contralto voice, has long been under some sort of a cloud. The late Romantics were shunned in respectable musical circles throughout most of the 20th century, and Respighi was acknowledged but generally kept at arm’s length. With “Nebbie” as the exception, his songs were never taken up by leading Italian singers whom they might well have suited – and this selection of early songs suggests just how well. The melancholy of many does not preclude gaiety in some (“Invito alla danza” and “Luce”), and all are written with a native Italian feeling for the voice. “La sensitiva”, a setting of Shelley’s “A Sensitive Plant”, is a major work, normally heard in the version for voice and orchestra but now with piano: rather like a picture taken out of its ornate frame, the effect more intimate and immediate. The skilful playing of Aldo Orvieto no doubt contributes. A word, finally, of commendation (as a phenomenon) for Giovanni Morelli’s introductory essay. Hamlet’s Ghost refers to his “knotted and combinèd locks”: they were nothing, I reckon, to Professor Morelli’s prose style.