Amazon.comLa Voix humaine is a monologue dressed up as an opera and a meditation on privacy in the Information Age. In 1958, French composer Francis Poulenc set a Jean Cocteau text for voice and orchestra (its spareness starkly contrasting with Poulenc's best-known opera--also issued as part of the Memoire Vive series--Dialogues of the Carmelites). The entire piece--sometimes spoken, sometimes sung, often treading the fascinating gray area in between--consists of a woman talking on the phone with an ex-lover. They argue, seduce, whimper. Or at least she does. We never hear his voice. When she isn't singing, the orchestra can be understood to suggest his words or to provide an emotional foundation for the conversation. This gimmick may not be a work of genius, but Poulenc is ingenious. Note how the timpani figure the telephone's ring. Or how the music sounds, at times, like a neighbor's radio. It's fascinating to recognize how quickly Cocteau's treatment of the phone has dated. In the modern world before mobile phones and scanners, one's paranoia was restricted to being overheard from an adjoining room. Jane Rhodes, the soprano, is extraordinary here. The level of verisimilitude--the extent to which this sounds like a diva experiencing a major breakup--can be harrowing or, for a voyeur, thrilling. --Marc Weidenbaum