A timeless lament on love and loss
When we think of Marie Osmond, our minds often drift to the sunny pop hits of her youth, the wholesome ballads that defined a certain era of American music. Yet, buried within her discography is a song that stands apart, an unexpected and profound departure from her usual fare. The song is “Lascia Ch’io Pianga,” and its history is far richer and more complex than you might imagine. This isn’t just a pop song; it’s a piece of classical history. Originally a breathtaking aria from George Frideric Handel’s 1711 opera, Rinaldo, the piece has transcended centuries and genres. It’s a lament, a cry for freedom and peace, and it found a surprising new voice in the hands of Marie Osmond on her 1978 album, This Is the Way That I Feel.
The album itself, This Is the Way That I Feel, was an artistic statement for Osmond, a move away from the bubblegum pop of her earlier career and a step toward a more mature, introspective sound. While the album’s title track and other pop offerings received some attention, it was the inclusion of “Lascia Ch’io Pianga” that truly raised eyebrows. This was not a song that fit neatly onto the pop charts of the late 1970s. As a result, it did not chart commercially, nor was it released as a single, which is completely understandable given its classical nature. It was an anomaly, a gift from Osmond to her more discerning listeners, and it showcased a vocal depth and emotional maturity that many had not previously associated with her.
The story behind the original aria is one of profound sorrow and longing. In Handel’s opera, the character Almirena sings this aria while imprisoned by the sorcerer Armida. She pleads for pity and a release from her suffering. The title itself translates from Italian to “Let me weep,” and the lyrics convey a heart-wrenching plea for freedom from torment. “Lascia ch’io pianga mia cruda sorte, e che sospiri la libertà,” or “Let me weep over my cruel fate, and sigh for liberty.” For anyone who has ever felt trapped, either by circumstances or by the chains of a broken heart, the words and melody resonate with a timeless power.
When Marie Osmond recorded her rendition, she brought her own sensibility to this centuries-old piece. While some might have seen it as a commercial misstep, it was, in fact, an act of courage. She wasn’t trying to make a hit; she was trying to make art. Her performance is not that of a seasoned opera singer, but of a singer deeply connected to the emotional core of the song. She doesn’t have the grand, operatic voice, but she brings a vulnerability and a soulful quality to the piece that feels deeply personal and intimate. Her version is a bridge between the classical and the contemporary, a testament to the enduring power of a melody that speaks directly to the human condition. It’s a song that reminds us that some feelings—grief, longing, the desire for peace—are universal, transcending time, culture, and musical genre.
Looking back, “Lascia Ch’io Pianga” on Marie Osmond’s album is more than just a song; it’s a moment frozen in time. It captures an artist daring to step outside her comfort zone and reveal a deeper, more serious side. For those who grew up with her music, this song might have been the first time they truly saw her as a mature vocalist, capable of handling material with such emotional weight. It’s a beautiful, melancholy footnote in the story of her career, a piece of music that continues to evoke a profound sense of reflection and nostalgia. It serves as a reminder that the most moving music often isn’t the most popular, but the kind that touches the soul in a way you never expected.
Music Legend