Jessye Norman sings Billy Joel?

Strange but true, and it's not the worst of crimes committed by record executives in the name of 'crossover' and in search of sales. David Benedict names the guilty men and women

You know what? It's over. It's slash and burn time as classical record labels drastically reduce their lists. If you're not a stadium-sized star or nubile enough to be flatteringly photographed semi-déshabillé, you can forget it. Classical repertoire, goodbye. Crossover? Come on down.

Record company executives adore crossover because it bridges the gap between a bunch of difficult divas (of both sexes) and the immeasurably sexy popular market. You can hear executives clocking the three tenors: "Thank God they sang some English stuff, not just that fancy schmancy stuff in foreign languages. We don't want arias, we want showbiz, we want West Side Story..." Ooops. Even Leonard Bernstein came a cropper there. When the original cast recording is so stupendous, why on earth did the composer re-record the show with a bunch of opera singers? The only incontrovertibly good thing about that woefully misbegotten project is the splashy playing of the New York Philharmonic which, under Bernstein's baton, gets down and dirty. Almost everything else is a travesty. Tatiana Troyanos is a fire-eating Anita but even she sounds matronly. Hell, the show is a streetwise rewrite of Romeo and Juliet that was originally entitled Gang Way. What sort of gang do you suppose Kiri Te Kanawa and José Carreras belong to?

The ghastliness of the enterprise – immortalised in Christopher Swann's documentary of the fraught recording sessions – was gleefully pilloried by French and Saunders with mezzo Sarah Walker coming along for the ride for a gloriously preposterous operatic cover of Kylie Minogue's "I Should Be So Lucky".

Yet it's high musical snobbery – and complete nonsense – to believe that all crossover is crass. Reri Grist went from the original cast of West Side Story to sing Mozart operas, while Barbara Cook had never sung opera when she landed the coloratura role of Cunegonde in Bernstein's Candide. That meant singing "Glitter and Be Gay", a life-threateningly difficult pastiche of the Jewel Song from Faust, eight times a week. Her perfect vocal and comic interpretation has never been bettered. Then there are recordings of Broadway material by Eileen Farrell and Dawn Upshaw, both of whom belie their classical roots.

Unfortunately, such offerings are rare. When their careers in grand opera start to fade, star sopranos – and not a few tenors – start scrabbling around for less strenuous material. They release albums of jazz and pop standards and tell the world they've loved this stuff all their lives but somehow never had the time to record it. Oh, really? So how come the results nearly always sound so condescending? They give the impression that they are flattering supposedly flimsy material with the glorious lustre of their voice.

In their defence, the traffic flows in both directions. Opera singers dabble in pop because, at its simplest, they want to be popular. Pop artists head towards more risky repertoire because they're after cultural clout.

Take Linda Ronstadt. Suddenly presented with a whole new audience thanks to her unexpected screen appearance in Joe Papp's jazzed-up version of The Pirates of Penzance, she started casting around for new material and wound up with a succession of albums that plundered Tin Pan Alley's greatest. Then, in 1991, Natalie Cole won herself seven Grammys duetting with her dead dad Nat King Cole on her album Unforgettable.

Now everyone's at it, but the problem is style – or, rather, the lack of it. Ronstadt had the good fortune to record with the irreplaceable conductor and arranger Nelson Riddle, who had a lifetime's experience of bringing the best out of greats such as Frank Sinatra; in Ronstadt's case, he spun straw into gold.

That's the secret of crossover success. It doesn't matter what sort of voice you have, just so long as you marry musicianship and material. But too many artists plunge in where angels fear to tread, making less than tentative forays into territories better left unvisited. You don't believe me? Try these for size... or should that be sighs?

Just The Way You Are

Of all the people to have covered Billy Joel's hit, would you choose to listen to Jessye Norman? She tries to turn herself into a crooner, but the idiom is so far beyond her it's as if she's singing in a foreign language. The song simply wilts beneath the intoxicating richness of her voice. Hear it and weep.

Classical Barbra

Streisand recorded a fun vocal version of Chopin's Minute Waltz on the winningly entitled Color Me Barbra, but went legit in 1976 with an album of Handel, Wolf, Fauré, Debussy and, good grief, German lieder. It tries so hard to be tasteful but ends up (at best) smooth and soporific. Lush, plush and dangerous to know.

Samson et Dalila

"Mon coeur s'ouvre à ta voix" is one of Opera's Greatest Hits. Not sung by Armand Tokatyan and Mae West, it's not. He was a celebrated tenor from the Met, she was a pneumatic movie star. To be fair, she wasn't entirely serious and while she isn't exactly good, as she herself said "Goodnesss had nothing to do with it, dearie."

South Pacific

Welcome back Kiri Te Kanawa and José Carreras. Sarah Vaughan pops in with insane versions of "Bali Hai" and "Happy Talk", but Dame Kiri once again wins the dumb casting prize. She plays a feisty hick from Arkansas who dresses up as a sailor and sings the raucous, rollicking "Honey Bun". No. No. No. (Hear also Kiri's cockney in My Fair Lady. Or, rather, don't.)

Michael Bolton

After screaming his way around the hard rock circuit and releasing himself from heart-on-sleeve ballad-bondage, Michael recorded My Secret Passion, an album of arias including a duet from La bohème with Renée Fleming. As soon as she starts, you realise what you have been missing. Bolton is either belting or bleating. He's got the notes, but nothing else.

Yodel-ay-ee-oo

Once heard never forgotten, Mary Schneider's vocal technique is stupefying. Ever had a niggling suspicion that there might be something missing from the William Tell Overture? There certainly is, and it's yodelling. On her pioneering Yodelling the Classics, Schneider brings Rossini, Bizet and Offenbach kicking and screaming into your own home with her Alpine twang. The trouble is, we know where she's crossing over from... but where on earth is she heading?

David Benedict introduces all these recordings – and more – on 'Voices', Radio 3, Tuesday 21 Aug, at 4pm