I know almost nothing about opera. I mean, except for it being this musical art form where singers of incredible talent act out their dramatic roles onstage.

Since this is a genre that I've never really investigated all that much, I'm more or less stuck at the "I know what I like" stage. I bought some Cecilia Bartoli discs after hearing a radio segment featuring her doing some Rossini arias. Then there's the copy of Catalani's La Wally, purchased after falling in love with the aria performed by Wilhelmenia Wiggins Fernandez in the film Diva. Not too much else, really. Oh sure, I do own a version of Mozart's Don Giovanni...mostly for the sheer bombast. In the "C'mon, are you going to count that?" category, I've also got Philip Glass' La Belle et La Bete, Akhnaten, and Einstein On The Beach. My only opera experience was to see a performance of Akhnaten in Boston.

This morning I'm listening to the last operatic disc on in my little collection: Bach cantatas BWV 82 and 199 as performed by the late Lorraine Hunt-Lieberson. I was very saddened to read this week that she'd passed away at the all too young age of 52.

I know as much about Lieberson as about opera in general. Heck, I don't even really know what a mezzo-soprano is. What was obvious was that Lieberson's relationship to the music was a particularly intense one. During an NPR feature segment on the singer, it was apparent that Lieberson was not your normal "Diva." Anybody who lives in service of the music is OK in my book. My interest was piqued.

So all I've got to show for this interest is a single, stunning disc of Bach cantatas. Very much like some iconoclastic blues and pop singers (Tom Waits, Bjork, and Howling Wolf come to mind), you've really got to hear Lieberson's voice to get it's true measure. No amount of language can get at its essence.

Lorraine Hunt-Lieberson. March 1, 1954 - July 3, 2006.