i went to borrow volkov's testimony, and ended up grabbing various diaries and correspondences in the vicinity. one of them is diaries poulenc kept about his songs. here's a cute quote (i'm typing in english cos i don't want to deal with accents):
"i am resuming this diary in a bad mood. i began it moreover, in similar circumstances. yesterday a recital by Mme X who sings with intelligence but a minimum of voice. the accompanist was impeccable but she was terribly mean when it came to using enough pedal.
it was a success, it seems. i left the salle gaveau in a fury
i detest intelligent singers. i like to hear some singing with a good sauce of pedal (the butter!), without which my music is destroyed."
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