I'm not a great one for Brahms, or divas in general. But I was awed by
Deborah Polaski's battered-heroic Elektra at the Royal Opera last year, and decided to take in her London recital debut at St John's, Smith Square, to see what she's like without the greatcoat. She's drop-dead gorgeous, though I still can't get very excited about Brahms Lieder.

The first part of the recital consisted of three sets of Brahms Lieder.
(Polaski is recording these with Charles Spencer, who accompanied her.) The first set were variations on village maidens, and predictably faux naif. She sang the final one, a dialogue in which a girl tells her bumptious admirer to push off, with Haensel-und-Gretel mannerisms that I found pretty irritating, but the rest were effectively understated. Not exciting, but they made a pleasant, only slightly melancholy, start. The second set focused on the misery of lost love in the context of nature, archetypical romanticism, ending with Abendregen, which is Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen in miniature. The third set focussed on the psychological workings of love, with several settings of translations from Hafiz, and ended with another dialogue, Von ewiger Liebe which concludes with the girl telling her reluctant lover that their love is eternal in an almost hysterically triumphant verse. Thematically and musically, it was a well-chosen though rather schematic selection, and Polaski delivered the detail, which underplaying the drama most of the time.

The second part of the recital was Mahler's Lieder eines fahrenden
Gesellen, in which she did much more what you'd expect from an Elektra. The words (Mahler's own) aren't anything like as interesting or worked out as those of the Lieder, and the work really consists of a sequence of four dramatic scenes which happen to be monologues. (It's Lieder in the same way Gurre-Lieder is Lieder.)  Polaski was able to let rip particularly in the third one, "Ich hab ein gluehend Messer", in which the singer's self-destructiveness kicks in. And the ending in (perhaps depressed) resignation and reconciliation with nature was electrifying.

Charles Spencer was a superb accompanist, playing duets with Polaski where appropriate and delivering the turmoil of the Mahler effectively.

For those who care, Polaski was wearing an ecclesiatical-looking tabard
over a Fortuny-pleat under-dress, all in midnight blue. From the place in New York city that does one-off exotic/antique-style concert wear, where Dawn Upshaw gets hers.

I have to mention the bouquets. I suspect that St John's doesn't do many
divas. They came up with a large, flamboyant bunch that include half a
dozen large pink orchids with yellow pointy bits for Polaski. Charles
Spencer, an understated-looking Englishman, got a single rosebud.

This recital was part of the Song at St John's series, which usually has
the likes of Joan Rogers and Gerald Finley. I'm not sure why Polaski
decided to perform at St John's rather than the Wigmore Hall, the obvious venue. There were plenty of Wiggy regulars in the audience. Maybe it just worked out that way. St John's isn't quite as good for recitals, but filling it (in every sense) certainly isn't a problem for Polaski.