In January, I watched Dessay perform a similar programme in the Barbican Hall, and noted "The singer's natural ebullience and charisma seemed muted; she looked strangely troubled, rather embarrassed, and struggled to smile into the auditorium... Her coughing was easily forgettable, but moments of strain and uncertainty in her singing were not". It was an odd recital, the soprano's delivery often thrilling, but equally often uncertain. Here on disc, the results are more even, though occasional (and very brief) moments of shrillness and cloudy enunciation still peer into the performances.

Where Dessay succeeds in this programme of coloratura showpieces is in painting convincing character portraits. Dessay's Gilda is a naïve innocent, exploring her sexuality for the first time, the final offstage trill seeming both a moment of sublime orgasmic ecstasy and a warning of future sorrow, erupting unconsciously from the girl's throat. Dessay's Lucia is a broken and tormented girl, ironically learning how to express herself as she descends further into madness, the music's virtuosity contorted into a depiction of tragic self-confidence.

The disc opens with the Act One finale from Verdi's La Traviata. Dessay brings a weird, hollow sound to her opening whispers of "E strano!"; there is some strain on "o gioia". Roberto Alagna sings Alfredo's ambiguous offstage declamations, but is too closely miked, his occasionally unattractive vocal qualities evident and the lines' vital sense of elusiveness lost. Alagna's ardent delivery does, however, counteract well his soprano's capricious characterisation.

Bellini and Donizetti are to come, and Dessay provides light, crystal-clear tone throughout, Nella pace from Donizetti's Maria Stuarda spun with superlative decorations. In Oh! quante volte, from Bellini's I Capuleti e i Montecchi, Dessay's beautiful sound is matched to mesmeric, slowly advancing orchestral playing, conjuring a dream-like atmosphere. Throughout, Evelino Pidò conducts the Concerto Köln with snap and polish, but the playing can seem somewhat colourless, a sense of spontaneity often lacking.

The Special Edition CD comes with a bonus DVD, featuring the mad scene from Lucia di Lammermoor, performed by Dessay at the Met last year. One is again reminded of how potent a theatrical presence this singer is.

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