‘The public came in their droves to hear such delectable songs … finally cement[ing] the era of great revolution in our music.’ The revolution? None other than the Querelle des Bouffons – the tug-of-war between Italian opera buffa and French tragédie lyrique that played out in 1750s Paris. This new release from Château de Versailles traces the aftershocks of that conflict, pairing the work that started it all – Pergolesi’s La serva padrona, presented in Pierre Baurans’s game-changing 1754 French parody – with a 19th-century French adaptation of Mozart’s Bastien und Bastienne, premiered at the Opéra-Comique in 1900.

Sensibly, the discs reverse the chronology, warming up with the pre-teen Mozart’s tiny Singspiel. The pastoral three-hander emerges here in decorously slow tread and faded pastels. Gaétan Jarry’s Orchestre de l’Opéra Royal never quite bring the music into dramatic focus, strings glossy but distant and pacing on the back foot. The French language (and dialogue) adds a piquancy but it’s not enough to set these quiet performances apart. Adèle Carlier finds some charming petulance in ‘Des flatteurs souvent’ and Marc Scoffoni’s Colas blusters amusingly, but David Tricou’s Bastien is more character-tenor than romantic lead, tone pinched and strained.

The Pergolesi feels much fresher. The longer arias allow the performance to achieve greater momentum between the full stops of spoken dialogue, and the occasional accompagnato recit helps keep the line of action taut. The composer’s pert Zerbine is more nuanced than Mozart’s shepherdess (though the lower register still gives Carlier some issues) and Scoffoni steps up as a sympathetic Pandolphe, toppling into near-patter at the start of ‘Quel est mon embarrass’ before pulling it back to quasi-tragedy.

Historically it’s a fascinating pairing – a window on to the engine room of both revolution and evolution, a chance to hear opera’s gears grinding as they shift and compare Italian originals with French parodies. Musically it’s an evening of low-stakes prettiness. But dramatically this double disc is a problem. When the intermezzi become the main course – twice over – and parody plays out without a straight-man to bounce off, there’s a risk that the stakes get so low that we lose sight of them altogether. There’s nothing substantial here, just a flummery of insubstantial sweetness.