Remembering Lorraine Hunt Lieberson

Lorraine Hunt Lieberson, American mezzo-soprano, October 1, 2003. Photo credit: Richard Avedon. Image source: Operachic

Lorraine Hunt Lieberson, born 1 March 1954, would have turned 70 today. It is a shock to realize that it has been almost 18 years since her tragic death from breast cancer on 3 July 2006, at the age of only 52.

We were incredibly fortunate to have been able to see her in performance four times: twice as the repudiated Empress Ottavia in Monteverdi's L'incoronazione di Poppea (The coronation of Poppea) at San Francisco Opera in the summer of 1998—her "Addio Roma, addio patria" was magnificent—and twice in recitals sponsored by UC Berkeley's Cal Performances: the first on 29 April 2001 in the cavernous Zellerbach Hall, and the second on 29 September 2002 in the more intimate wood-lined Hertz Hall. Although all of her appearances were memorable, the second recital was one of the most moving performances I've ever experienced.

In late January 1999 Lorraine Hunt was scheduled to perform a program of Bach's cantatas directed by Peter Sellars as part of the Cal Performances season; a second show was even added in early February. However, just two weeks before those performances were to take place they were cancelled "because of an illness in Hunt's family," according to the announcements that appeared. We later learned that her sister Alexis had been diagnosed with breast cancer, and Hunt cancelled the engagements to be with her. Alexis died in May 2000.

Two months before her sister's death, Hunt herself was diagnosed with the disease. The program of the 2002 recital was clearly a response to her diagnosis and her sister's death. Every song was about mortality and the imperative to grasp fleeting moments of joy, from the opening "Scherza infida" ("Mock me, faithless one," from Handel's Ariodante), in which the suicidal Ariodante seeks "the embrace of death," to the closing "Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen," ("I am lost to the world," from Mahler's Rückert-Lieder), in which she sings "truly I am dead to the world./I am dead to the world’s clamor/And rest in a quiet place,/I live alone in my heaven,/In my love, in my song!"

Fortunately for us, her performances of some of the songs from this recital program were recorded. Here is Claude Debussy's "Beau soir," recorded at Alice Tully Hall in New York City on 20 October 2002. As in the Berkeley recital we attended three weeks earlier, Robert Tweten is her accompanist:

https://youtu.be/1QgEAsJul18 ["Beau soir" ends at 3:10]

Beau soir (Paul Bourget) Lorsque au soleil couchant les rivières sont roses, Et qu'un tiède frisson court sur les champs de blé, Un conseil d'être heureux semble sortir des choses Et monter vers le cœur troublé; Un conseil de goûter le charme d'être au monde Cependant qu'on est jeune et que le soir est beau, Car nous nous en allons, comme s'en va cette onde: Elle à la mer — nous au tombeau!

Beautiful evening (My translation) When at sunset the rivers turn pink And a mild breeze brushes the fields of wheat, Everything seems to urge contentment And ascend to a troubled heart; To urge us to savor the delight of being in the world, While we are young and the evening so beautiful, For our life flows by, as do the waves: They to the sea — we to the tomb.

As in the recital we attended, on this recording "Beau soir" is followed after a pause by Ernest Chausson's "Le Colibri" (The hummingbird); if you want to keep listening you can find the words by Charles-Marie-René Leconte de Lisle together with a translation by Richard Stokes on the Oxford International Song Festival website.

The final song (and third encore) of the recital was her signature encore, the spiritual "Deep River," in which she sings "Deep river/My home is over Jordan/Lord, I want to cross over into camp ground." This recording was made live at the 2004 Ravinia Festival with Peter Serkin as her accompanist:

https://youtu.be/iSkskC68eEQ ["Deep River" ends at 2:40]

Although no recording can do justice to the experience of hearing this remarkable artist in person, many of her performances are available on audio or video. Among our favorites are the collections of Handel arias she recorded with the Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra under musical director Nicholas McGegan, Arias for Durastanti and Handel Arias (there are four tracks in common). Supreme for me, of course, reigns her performance with the PBO of the Carthaginian queen Dido in Purcell's Dido and Aeneas. I've written elsewhere on this blog about how Dido and Aeneas and Hunt's other Baroque opera and oratorio performances with PBO and McGegan played a major role in igniting our passion for Baroque opera—a gift for which we will always be profoundly grateful.

Dido's lament from the final scene of the opera:

https://youtu.be/IKRjtUCbTmw

For more about what is was like to hear Lorraine Hunt Lieberson in performance, it would be difficult to find a warmer tribute than Alex Ross's "Fervor" (The New Yorker, 25 September 2006). Details in this post were also taken from the following articles:

• Joshua Kosman, "Singing the music of her life: Lorraine Hunt Lieberson's programs express sorrow of illness, joy of marriage," San Francisco Chronicle, 22 April 2001 [1]
  
• Charles Michener, "The soul singer," The New Yorker, 5 January 2004
• Anthony Tommasini. "Lorraine Hunt Lieberson, luminous mezzo, dies at 52," New York Times, 5 July 2006
• Charlotte Higgins, "Lorraine Hunt Lieberson: American opera singer renowned for her passionate, beautiful, bold interpretations," The Guardian, 6 July 2006

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1. I believe that in this article Kosman mis-states the date of Lorraine Hunt's diagnosis; the date he gives of spring 1999 is contradicted by both Charles Michener's and Charlotte Higgins' accounts.
   
   Perhaps this is also the place to mention that while Kosman can be an insightful critic, he seemed utterly oblivious to the wrenching theme of Hunt's 2002 recital. In his review in the San Francisco Chronicle (1 October 2002) Kosman wrote that the recital was "an odd patchwork affair" that "lacked something of the unnerving sublimity of Hunt Lieberson's previous performances" and, to him, felt like "[one] song after another." Sublimity is, of course, in the ear of the auditor, but Kosman seemed not to grasp the story Hunt was telling through her musical choices. Not only was the recital a thematically coherent meditation on death, it was also carefully structured (the songs were grouped by language), and deeply affecting. So, hardly a patchwork, and it's no closer to the mark to call it "an appealing sampler," as Kosman does in his first sentence.