It’s very simple. In 1998 I sang in Britten’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the Lyons Opera, in Robert Carsen’s production. It was a magnificent project and I went into it with all my enthusiasm. There’s a surprising parallel between the problems I encountered and the misadventures of Alfred Deller – the role of Oberon was written for him, you’ll recall. Deller didn’t have a major problem with the notes – vocally speaking and in the absolute – but on stage he had to confront something very difficult. Oberon is Titania’s partner, and Britten didn’t think, or didn’t want to think, about the balance between the two roles. In Lyons, Nathalie Dessay sang Titania. Singing opposite her I had to push my technique for mixing my head and chest voices to the maximum. Generally I use a mixed voice to go from my head voice to my low voice, without ever using my chest voice, which I only rarely use. Everything went fine, and I matched Nathalie’s volume perfectly. But at the end of the production, I was exhausted. I had gone too far, and in subsequent concerts I had to confront major head voice problems. At the time I refused to really analyse what had happened. It took almost five years before I realised that it had all begun with Oberon, and when I’d figured that out, I could begin to entirely rebuild my technique. I had to overcome tremendous vocal trauma, and it took me a year to get rid of the bad habits my voice had acquired. I think it’s the fate of every singer to have to face up to errors at some point in his life. That’s when he has to show he can rise above those errors – and not everyone manages. I believe I’ve come through it well, and now I experience enormous pleasure singing again, and in giving good concerts. I don’t regret a thing, and if I were asked to sing Oberon a second time, I’d accept right away – though I would approach the role with all due caution. It’s a magnificent role that suits me wonderfully.

I think it’s the fate of every singer to have to face up to errors at some point in his life. That’s when he has to show he can rise above those errors – and not everyone manages.

Your forays into other musical worlds doesn’t have anything to do with vocal problems, then?

On the contrary. It all has to do with the sensations I’ve rediscovered. Diversifying my repertoire doesn’t mean I felt cramped in the baroque repertoire: there are so many composers and so much music to discover in that area. My craving for new horizons simply comes from my curiosity. I was involved in many types of music long before I began to explore the baroque. Since rediscovering my voice I’ve enjoyed doing various kinds of music, just as I’ve got all my energy back for directing workshops at Royaumont.

Can you give us a rundown on that activity?

It’s quite significant. The level of the workshop students in Royaumont is fantastic, and improves from year to year! Of the eight singers that took part last year, all were quasi-professional; I could almost have hired them for my concerts. Of course, in terms of knowledge of early music technique, some are very advanced and others less so, but that’s why they are there, to learn. The wonderful thing is that now I’ve recovered my own voice, I’m able to give so much more to the students than I could in previous years. I often ask them to imitate me, and give the vocal examples myself. When I say students should use their voices like a palette of colours, and that they should learn how to make a “head tone” before using vibrato – vibrato serves to enrich a vocal line and should be mastered as an ornament – I have the very gratifying feeling of showing my students a world of light. And when I can give the examples myself, it’s obvious to them what they should do.