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Posted on June 25, 2010 by June

Mozart came late into my life. It was not until I was in my forties that the lyrical beauty and emotional pulse of his music began to talk to me on a personal level. As a young child I remember listening to a magical “Singing Lady” on the radio who would intertwine her glistening soprano voice with the excitement of a fairy tale. How I would run to hear her voice and travel with her to enchanted lands. My own mother had a beautiful voice and would sing as she worked around the house. She never had training, but she had a natural gift. However, I was born at the height of the depression, and she was focused on hanging on to our two flat rather than on developing her own talent.

Later on, Judy Garland would mesmerize me with her “Over the Rainbow” in the Wizard of Oz. Even later, Patrice Munzel, to whom I was introduced in a high school music class, would become an idol. Beverly Sills was another admired voice.

Now I listen in rapture to our own family sopranos. And somehow the exquisite fragility of soprano singing seems to me to find its most fertile ground in the music of the supreme master, Mozart. Even when it’s not an opera, he makes the instruments sing. And my soul, too.