RECITAL DEBUT : JERUSALEM SINGS AT OLD GLOBE

If, as a wise person once said, every song recital is another chapter in the singer’s autobiography, then Siegfried Jerusalem’s life, as represented in the German tenor’s recital at the Old Globe Theatre in Balboa Park Monday night, must be one of appalling equanimity.

Not to say a boring one--if we have not walked in someone else’s Ballys, we should not make such judgments--but at least uneventful.

Sponsored by San Diego Opera, which will mount Wagner’s “Fliegende Hollaender” next month with Jerusalem singing the role of Erik, this appearance offered the local recital debut of an international singer who has already established himself as an important operatic artist.

In his program of lieder by Mahler, Richard Strauss and Schumann, Jerusalem did not contradict that position; he merely failed to overwhelm his listeners, steal hearts or raise temperatures.

In an attractive room brightened with flowers, yet without enough light to read the texts (at least before intermission), Jerusalem coped manfully with dry acoustics.

The Old Globe certainly did not enhance or beautify the tenor’s apparently pleasing and healthy tone; in fact, the auditorium may have been unfairly magnifying some of the occasional dryness and hoarseness that afflicted this performance. Since there is no ring in this room, one is left to wonder how much ring there may be in this singer’s voice. The February performances in Civic Theatre should tell the tale.

Of conscientious artistry, Jerusalem undoubtedly displayed an abundance. Competently, if not masterfully, assisted by pianist Siegfried Mauser, the young tenor delivered music and texts of four Mahler items, a sampler of six songs by Richard Strauss, and the 12 parts of Schumann’s “Liederkreis” with careful phrasing, generalized sentiment and a nice appreciation of the climactic line. His intelligence and musical thoroughness are admirable.

But he did not probe deeply, through dynamics and tone-coloration, into word-meanings. He did not differentiate strongly the emotional shadings between separate poems.

And he did not fill the unsung portions--the rests and interludes within these songs--with meaning communicated either through facial expression or personal intensity. Mostly, he looked vaguely serious, or preoccupied, took slowish--and musically unjustified--tempos and remained resolutely outside the sphere of feeling created by composer and poet.

At the end, he showed a little more liveliness and personal interest, though no more speed, in his encore, Schumann’s “Widmung.”