With the best Russian singers, there is such a solid foundation to their vocal technique, doubtless born of many years of strict training, that once the voice is oiled and ready to go it can do practically anything asked of it. So it was in Olga Borodina's Barbican programme, adeptly accompanied by pianist Dmitri Yefimov, who brought an almost orchestral range of sonority to his task. Borodina's ample mezzo was all present and correct from the start, able to encompass a wide range of colour and dynamics without ever showing signs of stress under pressure or flecks on the surface. In terms of tone and imaginatively varied use of her instrument, she was nigh-on impeccable.

Singers are always at their best in their own language, and Borodina's programme was entirely Russian, running through several of the major figures of her native repertoire though avoiding the two most obvious - Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninov. Instead, she explored the works of the so-called "mighty handful" of 19th-century nationalists: Rimsky-Korsakov, Mussorgsky, Borodin and the less familiar Balakirev and Cui.

Even within that group, her selection often strayed from familiar paths. She brought a sensuous allure to Borodin's The Sea Princess and a delicacy to Cui's The Fountain Statue at Tsarskoye Selo that revealed what subtle effects her substantial instrument could deliver.

Her second half brought us into the 20th century, with Shostakovich's relatively lightweight Spanish Songs and a group by the more recent traditionalist Georgy Sviridov. Borodina maintained a sense of contained passion throughout their strange mixture of nostalgia and unease matching their borderline position between a self-conscious awareness of the past and an uncertain attitude to the future; the blend of security and insecurity in the Sergei Yesenin setting Russia Cast Adrift was perfectly judged.