Wainwright siblings share a mix of quirky love songs

As a musical Valentine's Day outing, there could be no finer entertainment than hearing Rufus and Martha Wainwright do their skewered love songs in a solo setting.

He's chamber pop's gay-iconic darling, currently charged with writing his first opera; she's cabaret-folk's reigning chanteuse - and they usually don't perform together.

On Saturday at the Kimmel Center, the brother and sister - stripped of their ornamental arrangements and accompanists - allowed their smartly told tales of messy romance, personal politics, and operas real and imagined to ring out.

The event was sumptuous, what with the greatest range of Martha's high, dynamic whine and Rufus' sliding trombone tenor at full tilt. But it also allowed audiences to focus on the pair's delectable vocal nuances and writing styles; Martha's self-proclaimed flowery character studies; Rufus' deeply infatuated tomes.

From his disgraced nationalism of "Going to a Town" to the pleasurable guilt that filled the medley of "Zebulon" and "Cigarettes & Chocolate Milk," Rufus seemed to seek forgiveness, if not understanding, for his obsessions.

The youthful longings that packed "The Art Teacher" (starkly performed with a repetitive, Philip Glasslike piano roll) and the older soul's clinging throughout the sway of "Sanssouci" ("The candles seem to have been blown out/Cupid's wings have cobweb rings, no one's about") went unrequited.

Yet, throughout his baroque poperas, Rufus laughed about craving the big love in song that he's found in real life - a boyfriend he referred to throughout his set. With his sister's stammering highs accompanying him, the jaunty "April Fools" and the slurry "In My Arms" may find Rufus sarcastically waiting for love until he's helpless or until "the fish start to smell." But he'll wait.

During Martha's opening set, the jazzier, folksier Wainwright took on romance with humor, and with a brand of performance stark and rousing. "I know you're married, but I've got feelings, too," she sang with a chanson's naked pleading, her weirdly warm words and warbled croon an odd mix.

If Rufus was gangly and mostly still, Martha's kick-turns and arches throughout the bugged lyrics of "Jesus & Mary" conveyed something pent-up and persnickety.

Together, these Wainwrights offered a one-two punch of slapping and slinking literary love songs. Aw.