It is often remarked – and few would demur - that Poulenc was 
                one of the finest melodists of the 20th-century, and surely there 
                can be no
 greater advantage for a prolific song-writer.
 
                His total of about 150 songs spans his entire creative life, 
                and Signum seem to intend to record them all. I believe that even 
                some previously unrecorded songs will feature. I don't imagine 
                I am alone in finding this a delightful prospect. Those unfamiliar 
                with Poulenc's songs may well have a revelation awaiting them. 
                
                  
                This first collection begins superbly with Robert Murray singing 
                three settings of nonsense verses by Cocteau. Poulenc wrote (in 
                
Diary of my Songs) “This cycle … must be sung without irony. 
                The essential point is to believe in the words which fly like 
                a bird from one branch to another.” “I class Cocardes among my 
                'Nogent works' with the smell of chips, the accordion, Piver perfume. 
                In a word, all that I loved at that age and that I still love.” 
                Nogent-sur-Marne was the Poulenc family's summer home in his early 
                years. Murray fits the bill quite brilliantly. 
                  
                Next comes Lisa Milne, equally brilliant in the joyful and buoyant 
                outer songs of 
Metamorphoses and touching in the central 
                song, the most beautiful 
C'est ainsi que tu es. This is 
                sung as Poulenc specified - “without affectation” - yet with no 
                lack of sensitivity. 
                  
                Christopher Maltman sings the set of eight, mostly very brief 
                
Chansons gaillardes. As Roger Nichols suggests in his authoritative 
                notes, “ribald” is the most suitable meaning of “gaillardes” in 
                this context – at least for those songs with quite rude words. 
                Maltman is wonderfully bloated in the second – 
Chanson à boire 
                – in which the anonymous 17th-centurt poet ridicules the Egyptian 
                and Syrian kings who have their dead bodies embalmed, advising 
                us to embalm ourselves in drink while we are still alive. Maltman 
                is excellent throughout, with some of the best French diction 
                on the CD, but Gilles Cachemaille lets himself go rather more 
                on Decca (4 CDs - Poulenc mélodies). 
                  
                Both in 
À sa guitare and the three settings of Louise de 
                Vilmorin (“Few people move me as much as [L de V]”, wrote Poulenc, 
                “because she is beautiful, because she is lame, because she writes 
                French of an innate purity”) Lorna Anderson is splendid, apart 
                from a slightly uncomfortable high passage in the last verse of 
                the third Vilmorin setting (“
Confiez dans l'espace”). However, 
                she is certainly not the only singer to have been tested at this 
                point. Also, Poulenc's demanding instruction “vertigineusement 
                vite” for the first song – 
Le Garçon de Liège - is not 
                quite heeded. Before these three songs Jonathan Lemalu makes his 
                sole, tantalisingly brief contribution in 
Épitaphe. 
                  
                The next three single songs maintain the high standard, Murray 
                being most sensitive in 
Bleuet. Lisa Milne is delightful 
                in the following 
Fiançailles Pour Rire - six more settings 
                of Louise de Vilmorin. Strangely,
“Pour Rire” is twice omitted 
                from the track listings. 
                  
                The two Max Jacob settings of 
Parisiana are beautifully 
                sung by Robert Murray. Gilles Cachemaille (with Pascal Rogé on 
                Decca – see above) has a little more character and abandon but 
                less tonal allure. Murray's French pronunciation is very good 
                – and this is generally true of all the singers here, with occasional 
                minor lapses – but Felicity Lott in 
La Courte Paille remains 
                a model in this respect. Her relish for the French language - 
                one can really see the facial muscles working – and her sense 
                of style are quite outstanding, even if the occasional note betrays 
                a less than complete musical control. 
                  
                The notes by Roger Nichols are fine, but the songs are unhelpfully 
                discussed in a different order to that in which they are performed, 
                while 
La Courte Paille is not mentioned at all! It's a 
                pity the respective departments were not able to communicate. 
                There are also some errors in the French texts. Overall this is 
                a fine disc containing so many gems from one of the most loveable 
                of composers. It should be added that Malcolm Martineau is superb 
                throughout. 
                  
                
Philip Borg-Wheeler