Youthful male passion is the natural element of the Italian tenor hero. He is often a young man possessed by a longing so sincere and intense that it can only be expressed in lyric form. Even the mendacious Duke of Mantua can inhabit this mode; as he courts Gilda, he incarnates the trope of innocent yearning so convincingly that he succeeds in fooling himself. Vittorio Grigolo thrives in this territory. The Duke's "Parmi veder le lagrime," des Grieux's "Donna non vidi mai" and the big arias from Luisa Miller, L'Elisir d'Amore, Favorita, Bohème and Trovatore, all included in this recital, are ideally suited to Grigolo's fresh lyric tenor and open-hearted approach.

As a treble, Grigolo was publicized as "Il Pavarottino," and the disc reveals an interpretive affinity with his illustrious predecessor. He achieves the key Pavarottian virtue of using crystalline Italian consonants to move the singing line forward. More important, his communicative ability — the sense that there's an appealing personbehind the singing — calls to mind the young Pavarotti.

Not that he soundslike Pavarotti: his is a softer-grained tone — a thing of fabric rather than metal, at least in its lower reaches, although it acquires an appealing trace of squillo as it moves above the staff. Some of the quieter singing here might not carry in a big house. One hopes Grigolo, who made his Met debut this season as Rodolfo, will wait a good long while before treating opera-house audiences to his Riccardo, Cavaradossi or Manrico, all sampled here. Still, it's a pleasure to hear their music sung so delicately and thoughtfully. In the Act III Ballo aria, most tenors chop the phase "Chiusa la tua memoria/ Nell'intimo del cor" into two, holding the A-flat at the end of the first part, then taking a breath to deliver a forceful attack on the same note beginning the second. But Grigolo takes it all in one breath, sustaining the mood of intimate reflection and suggesting a thought that indeed lies "deep within the heart."

He is especially impressive in his determination to treat cabalettas as music. The recital includes both verses of the Duke's "Possente amor" and the cabaletta of Corrado's Act I Corsaro aria. Both readings are rhythmically alert, with subtle shifts of emphasis that justify the inclusion of the repeats. In "Di quella pira," he moves the musical line forward through his crisp articulation of the turns that punctuate each phrase. Grigolo reminds us that Manrico is a troubadour as well as a soldier. The familiar showpiece becomes an engrossing musical statement, rather than the usual demonstration of brute force.

Conductor Pier Giorgio Morandi deserves credit for the care with which this recital has been prepared. His tempos are just, and his leadership remains consistently attuned to Grigolo's interpretive choices. But Sony's packaging does Grigolo a disservice by omitting texts and translations in favor of a hagiographic profile. The lacuna is scarcely justifiable for the familiar arias in the recital, but without annotation, how are we supposed to comprehend the dramatic context of the selections from Il Corsaro and Le Villi? The assumption seems to be that we are more interested in the performer than in the music he sings. Grigolo is not just an aspiring celebrity but an artist. He deserves better.

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