Thomas Hampson/Song of America, Metropolitan Museum, New York

Thomas Hampson is indecently gifted. He commands a probing mind, a keen imagination, a lyric baritone of remarkable suavity, and, yes, a useful aura of matinee-idol magnetism.

He may not be the most spontaneous artist before the public today, or the least mannered. In context, however, this matters little (critics a generation ago made similar observations about a paragon named Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau). At a preposterously youthful 56, Hampson commands equal parts flair, savoir-faire and charm. Even in a concert situation, deprived of theatrical trappings, he remains a compelling singing-actor. For him just singing is never enough.

In recent years he has expanded his opera repertory to explore heavyweight Verdi territory, with somewhat controversial results. For better or worse, he will venture Macbeth at the Met this spring. In the meantime, however, he is concentrating on a project for which he has no rivals: Song of America.

The evolution of American vocal music has been an obsession with Hampson for some time. On Sunday, at his only New York recital of the season, he offered 22 demanding songs virtually without pause, all of historical value and many of aesthetic significance. He roared, soared, crooned, sighed and serenaded, invariably with crisp diction and poetic insight, through demanding works of such disparate composers as Ives, Stephen Foster, Copland, Virgil Thomson, Barber, Paul Bowles and Walter Damrosch. Sensitively partnered, never merely accompanied, by the pianist Vlad Iftinca, he tried to validate each miniature with colourful nuance, expressive wit or gutsy pathos, as needed. Not incidentally, he also wrote a brilliant analytical essay for the printed programme.

Unfortunately, his recital suffered one monumental problem. It was presented by the Met Museum to celebrate the recent opening of its American Wing for Paintings, Sculpture and Decorative Arts. Although the hall looks wondrous, it functions as a vast echo-chamber. As such, it reduces music, even the softest music, to mush. There are some obstacles even Thomas Hampson cannot conquer.

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