One half of the often star-crossed Renee Fleming returned tonight to San Francisco, the city where she always found warmth and approval, and she gave an excellent, almost great recital. The half that was present in Davies Hall was Fleming the singer - minus coyness, and too many smiles, and "look how defenseless and lovable I am." She sang, without all those off-putting distractions, and that much was wonderful. The missing half, needed to realize the greatness for which she has shown only the potential, is the expression of feelings, of passion, of genuine vulnerability, not the "act." Sponsored by the San Francisco Symphony, the recital presented an unusual pairing of two soloists, rather than a singer with an accompanist. Jean-Yves Thibaudet did accompany Fleming (well, but not half as memorably as some "plain accompanists" can provide), but also had a portion of the program to himself. During that time, he played two Chopin pieces excellently, banged through the Etude in F Major, managed "Clair de Lune," and then brought the house down with as great a performance of "Jeux d'artifice" as I ever heard. Fleming started with five Faure songs, singing simply and well, former bad habits of scooping and narrowing the voice held to a minimum, and interrupted between songs by stupid applause, compelling her after the intermission to appeal to the audience. Four songs by Joseph Marx followed, Fleming still striding in the straight and narrow, then reaching the high point the evening, with Debussy's "Chansons de Bilitis." The all sounded fine, but all sounded pretty much the same. Vocally, it was impressive and enjoyable. But the message - which some say should be left to Western Union - undelivered, by and large. Rachmaninov's "In the Silence of Mysterious Night" was a somewhat puzzling choice - Fleming's remedial Russian doesn't do much, especially before an audience with a large Russian contingent. Still, her voice was in excellent condition, the frequent forte passages shook the one-million cubic feet cathedral of Davies, there was a bit of a slipup in intonation at one point (the only such happening the whole evening), and a big finish with "Oh, Do Not Sing to Me" and "These Summer Nights." If the fates remain kinder to Fleming than during a lengthy period she went through, and if she manages to stick to tonight's singing mode to stand up and deliver, and she finds the way (and the courage) to sing with some genuine soul - we'll all be the richer for it. Janos Gereben/SF, CA [log in to unmask]