Woven Together: Handel, Lieberson and Xerxes Tree

This may come as a shock to you: I have no hesitation to speak up in class. In spite of this, I've always been strangely reluctant to share things that I write. In the spirit of new beginnings, and also in the spirit of class requirements, I figure it's high time to move beyond these hesitations. I was particularly moved, some would say astonished, by Lorraine Hunt Lieberson's recording played in in class on Wednesday. It moved me to do two things when I got home: First I made my wife Ellen listen to it.... twice. And then I wrote this review. So, here goes nothing.


Woven Together:
Handel, Lieberson and Xerxes Tree

"George Washington's contemporaries admired him not because he was a plaster saint or an empty uniform but because they sensed his unseen power." (Chernow, "Washington: A Life") Throughout his career as a military and political leader George Washington drew upon restraint as a means of power. Lorraine Hunt Lieberson wields this same restrained power in her performance of Handel's Ombra Mai Fui from the Opera Serse. She combines simplicity and subtlety with a sound that is embracing and warm, never overpowering the orchestra whom she seems to be speaking to, as opposed to singing with. As you listen to the piece you get a sense that you've stumbled in unnoticed on the deeply personal conversation of two lovers unaware that their moment is being shared. While you may feel like an outsider looking in, to borrow from the words of Alex Ross, "the warmth of her voice [brings you] close." The dynamic contrast and the arch of emotional content, beginning from nothing and rising to climax before returning back to nothingness, is subtle enough that it's effect is more felt than heard.

Tender and beautiful fronds
of my beloved plane tree,
let Fate smile upon you.
May thunder, lightning, and storms
never bother your dear peace,
nor may you by blowing winds be profaned.

A shade there never was,
of any plant,
dearer and more lovely,
or more sweet.

These words from Nicoló Minato's libretto romanticize Xerxes relationship with this beloved tree as opposed to admiration for this tree. He does not exclaim its stateliness or grandeur. He does not expound on its strength over time, instead he loves the tree for it's base existence, for merely being there. He loves the tree for accomplishing what all trees accomplish; for getting in the way of the oppressive sun. These words reflect on a profound truth of human existence: We desire not to be loved for being special, but to be specially loved just for being. As the aria develops, the orchestra and soloist are united in much the same way as the shadows of Xerxes and his tree; moving together with the rising and falling of the sun, one hardly knows where one begins and the other ends.

A piece of art can be considered great when it would be diminished by either adding or subtracting. Handel accomplished artistic greatness in his simple and understated aria. Lorraine Hunt Lieberson weaves her performance so perfectly to the form and function of the piece, it is impossible to tell where Handel's artistic voice ends and Ms. Lieberson's begins.