Barbara Cook

Lyric soprano Barbara Cook shimmered with a little bit of that old black magic of yesteryear during her glittering affair on Saturday evening at the Appel Room in Jazz at Lincoln Center during her much-anticipated American Songbook concert. If there was one thing this celebrated diva wanted to remind the reviewers, some of whom have traveled across the Atlantic, was that her reign was far from over: "I'm not dying," she assured the audience in a warm, maternal tone. A true paramour of performance, she asked the light designer to turn the house lights up in order to see her flock, as she likes to know with whom she communicates through song.

Taking vigil in a chair on a stripped stage, Mrs. Cook delighted the eager crowd with the bedside manor of a matriarch in her twilight times recounting her prime while looking forward to the future. With the staff having had the platform striken as she finds it difficult to walk these days -- she is currently suffering from two operable lower-back fractures above the coccyx -- the 87-year-old dame of musical theatre returned to the New York City stage after weeks of recovering from these health issues with vitality and vivacity.

"I like to feel people are on my side, and you sure sound like you are," she said to the glowing audience, who were bathed in fuchsia illumination. During her halcyon days as the premier leading ing�nue on Broadway, whether she was headlining Leonard Bernstein's "Candide," the Jerry Bock/Sheldon Harnick musical "She Loves Me," or wowing critics with her Tony-winning star turn in Meredith Wilson's "The Music Man," she has remained a master of emotive interpretations.

Known for her clear extensive range and warm sound, vocal agility and sonic fireworks, skeptics today may unfairly believe that Ms. Cook pales in comparison to the same diva's bright angelic shrill of the past. The intonation within the down-to-earth octogenarian's expression was quivering but silky, the weight in her voice has deteriorated to wisps of breathy coos, the color in her voice has now taken on a darker and husky eminence, and she is not a stranger to momentary lapses of memory, which was perhaps more charming to the audience and more vexing to the singer.

Nevertheless, this was her master class to the future of theatre and cabaret. Her seismic command of the stage and subtext of lyrical content resonated with audiences. Not bad for a southern belle from Atlanta, Georgia, who was paid 50 cents at the age of eight for singing gig, a fact that she would later mention upon belting out Hoagy Carmichael and Stuart Gorrell's "Georgia on My Mind." (Though, the Georgia Peach admits, she couldn't wait to leave and make her mark on the Big Apple.)

During her two-hour performance under starless nighttime, she made funny leisurely crooning to "Makin' Whoopee," the easy-listening Walter Donaldson/Gus Kahn classic. Her tribe of followers howled when, in the lyric, the judge quips, "You better keep her, I think it's cheaper... Than makin' whoopee."

She found Cole Porter "too sophisticated and arch," to sing live, but that didn't stop her from generating a simmering rendition of the "I've Got You Under My Skin," a standard synonymous with the topsy-turvy song-and-dance musical "Anything Goes." Musiker's arrangement, a mix of quiet storm and jazz lounge, enamored the crowd with pillowy ostinato flourishes on the piano, vampy bass plucks and the clash of cymbals echoing the backdrop.

Recalling her history from her trek to NYC, the three months it took to land her first gig and to her fabled debut at age 23 in the short-lived Sammy Fain/E. Y. Harburg/Fred Saidy musical "Flahooley," Mrs. Cook eventually got to Stephen Sondheim ("THE Stephen," as she calls him), whom she notes has gotten quirkier and more accessible with age, describing their long illustrious careers as frequent collaborators.

She followed this up with a dynamic rendition of "No One Is Alone," from the Stephen Sondheim/James Lapine fairytale drama "Into the Woods." Cook's delivery was brazen and full of soul, conveying a bitter truth about feeling or experiencing total abandonment, and adding that the lyric, "Sometimes people leave you/Halfway through the wood" recently began to resonate with her, now that many of her friends and colleagues have passed. "People die or decide they just don't want to be with you anymore," she ponders to misty-eyed crowd, some of whom were reaching for tissues upon the second verse of the ballad. "You wonder, why would anyone do that? How could you do leave me here all alone?"

Upon the encore, the songbird looked out into the audience, eyes sparkling (unlike the moonless skyline behind her), and clutched her heart softly. She was right at home. Performing a rendition of John Lennon's iconic "Imagine," Cook rocketed into the hushed accompaniment by with Lee Musiker, with a knowing lucid, lingering likelihood that some day the world will be the type of utopia Lennon wrote about. With vocalist like Cook singing such material, we're better for it.

"Lincoln Center's American Songbook Series" runs through March 28 at Jazz at Lincoln Center, 3 Columbus Circle. For information or tickets, call 212-258-9800 or visit http://americansongbook.org/events/barbara-cook