Greatness,Here & Now.(opera great Olga Borodina)

Ladies and gentlemen, a star is born, or rather: a star is about ten years old at this point, given that Olga Borodina first made an impression on the music world in the early '90s. But it is only in the last season or so that she has come to the fore, grabbing the music world by the throat. Borodina, a Russian mezzo-soprano, is one of the finest singers in the world. She is also one of the finest singers . . . ever.

Now, most critics would rather swallow poison than make that last point, at least in public. Moderation is the name of our game: We hedge, we qualify, we keep our heads down. And because we do this, we often fail to recognize, or announce, greatness when we see it, or hear it. It is safer to wait for the "judgment of history." But this is a bit of a cop-out: Part of the critic's duty is to call a spade a spade, or an immortal an immortal-even "prematurely." We have no trouble saluting the past. We express envy of earlier audiences, and we cherish our "historic recordings." But contemporary performers? They will have to wait their turn: from the grave.

Lately, though, critics have been getting bolder about Olga Borodina. It simply cannot be helped.

Borodina, now 37, grew up in St. Petersburg. Her career has had two primary sponsors: Valery Gergiev, wizard of the Kirov Opera, and James Levine, wizard of the Metropolitan Opera. Both men have featured Borodina zealously. They know that she has every asset: a superb, unusual voice; rock-solid technique, leading to (among other things) versatility; a keen dramatic sense; and innate musicality, which cannot be taught or lost.

In the mid '90s, Borodina sang all over Europe, essaying the roles with which she would become associated: the Russian parts, in operas by such composers as Mussorgsky, Tchaikovsky, and Borodin (no relation to the singer, apparently); then Dalila (in Saint-Saens' Samson et Dalila), Amneris (in Verdi's Aida), Eboli (in that same composer's Don Carlo), and Carmen (everyone's favorite gypsy, in Bizet's masterwork). Soon she arrived on American shores, where she secured her stardom. Borodina was given the honor of opening the 1998-99 season at the Met: She sang Dalila alongside her most distinguished Samson, Placido Domingo.

One of the high points of that same season was Borodina's recital in Lincoln Center's Alice Tully Hall. This was an all-Russian affair, with Borodina offering Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninoff, the heart of the Russian song repertory. The audience was held rapt, as Borodina wove spell after spell, finding the soul of this intensely soulful music-and laying on that glorious, haunting voice.

During the next season, she gave Metropolitan audiences her Amneris, an Amneris as commanding and persuasive as any in memory. Clearly, she belonged in the front rank of Verdi mezzos, a legendary group. Shortly thereafter, Levine took her into the concert hall for Ravel's Sheherazade and Berlioz's Mort de Cleopatre. This is exactly the kind of thing he used to do with Jessye Norman. It seemed that the baton had been passed: Here was the new favorite, the new ideal. Everything Borodina did in those French staples reflected supreme taste.