For no immediately fathomable reason, Ravel’s songs seem to be heard less often than those of, say, Fauré or Debussy. Yes, there are fewer of them – two discs-worth, as opposed to five or six – but that’s no excuse when the material is so strong. Perhaps it’s their eclectic range that makes them harder to pin down (or pair up). Whatever it is, Malcolm Martineau’s comprehensive survey, with an impressive lineup of nine hand-picked singers, emerges more than a nose ahead in a not-overly-congested field.

The notoriously fastidious Frenchman composed chansons or mélodies across his full career and Martineau’s sensible chronological approach allows us to hear how his way with the voice developed over a 30-year span. It opens with Ballade de la Reine morte d’aimer (Ballad of the Queen who died of love), a ravishing piece of faux medievalism from 1893 when Ravel was just 18. It’s a real charmer, with gently chiming chords on the piano representing the bells wafting an innocent sovereign’s soul heavenwards. 

Martineau’s is the most subtle and sensitive...