- When I told family and friends that
I planned to attend all four Andrea Bocelli concerts, I got a few
raised eyebrows. "Are the concerts all the same?" I
was asked. I assumed they would be, but rationalized that
there might be some variation over the four evenings. The
truth was, however, that I couldn't imagine being in the same city
where Andrea would be singing, and not attend. I had to be
there!
New York City was an amazing experience for me--a small town
gal from northern Michigan. I am not usually drawn to big
cities, and to be honest, I might never have visited the Big Apple
had Andrea not been singing there. Central Park, the
Metropolitan Art Museum, Lincoln Center, Times Square...what a
mind-blowing experience--almost impossible to convey to those who
have never been there. The main focus of every Bocelli concert
is always his singing, but there is so much more to every event.
Exposure to new music, visiting new places, gathering with old and
new friends--all of this adds to the excitement. All of the
sights, sounds and smells of this "city that never
sleeps"--the hustle and bustle, the lights, the traffic, the
street vendors, the artists, the musicians, the magnificent
diversity. And then, in the midst of all this delightful
craziness that is New York, each evening at Avery Fisher Hall,
two hours of sublime beauty!
The Verdi songs were unfamiliar to me, and I think probably to
most of us. But these were songs that Andrea had chosen for
this event and they were obviously special to him--he had worked
very hard on them and he wanted us to hear them! Over the
course of four evenings, the songs began to take hold in my
heart--by the 4th night I could almost hum along--although I
wouldn't have dared. The audience was obviously enchanted by
our tenor--he held them in the palm of his hand. The fact that
he was called back for four encores and received a standing ovation
on each of the four nights, singing these songs that most had
probably never heard before, said a lot to me about his ability to
communicate.
- Just a little bit about the Verdi
songs...To my ears they sounded very challenging. The last
song in the first grouping "L’esule" (The Exile) had a
thrilling high note which Andrea sang with gusto! The last song of
the second set "Brindisi" (A Toast) was one of my
favorites—a bit more up-tempo than some of the others, with a lot
of vocal agility required. Again Andrea sang with energy and vigor.
Many times we have heard him float a high note at the end of a song,
but his first encore, another Verdi song arranged by Steven Mercurio
ended with a deep rich low note, which he seemed to hold forever. It
demonstrated another aspect of his voice and was just thrilling to
hear!
It was a joy for me to hear his real voice unamplified, in a lovely
concert setting. In every way, he seemed confident and in
control, strong and beautiful. From the first note to the
last, the first concert to the last--it only got better!
I sincerely hope that eventually there will be a recording of this
concert so that everyone can hear and understand how
beautifully he sang.
- It was also a privilege to hear the
NY Philharmonic and to witness the style and sensitivity of
conductor Asher Fisch. Of the orchestral pieces I was
particularly drawn to "Preludio sinfonico," a lovely
Puccini song that I had not heard before. There were many smiles
from the orchestra members, who truly seemed to be enjoying the
experience. Andrea showed his appreciation for them by his own
applause on numerous occasions.
As I rode the train homeward, I pondered my wonderful New York
experience. I had that fulfilled and joyous feeling
that always follows a Bocelli concert. Tears welled in my eyes
-- tears of gratitude for some very special friends -- tears of
gratitude for all of the wonderful experiences I have had because of
Andrea Bocelli -- tears of gratitude that I am one of the fortunate
ones to hear him sing.
One of the critics, puzzling over Bocelli's popularity, used the
word "metaphysical" to describe the attraction. I
would suggest another word that would be more appropriate
-- "authenticity." Andrea Bocelli has a
beautiful voice and works every day to improve. When he sings
he gives 100 percent--he sings with passion, he sings from the heart.
He is genuine -- the real deal! From his heart to
our hearts...We hear you, Andrea! On recordings or in
person--in a hockey arena or in a concert hall--we hear you!
Pop or classical--we hear you! Thank you for using that
wonderful God-given instrument. Keep on singing--we will be
there!
by Gloria Morkin
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- Dream Come True…Proprio cosi’
-
- We drove from Washington to New
York in a steady, unrelenting, dismal downpour. What were we
thinking? In the course of the year, we had traveled from Wales
and Verona, to Las Vegas, to Naples, to the Hollywood Bowl, and
now we were here in the pouring rain on the road again. This time
for Andrea’s four concerts in New York—yes, the SAME concert
ALL four nights…we had become weary and defensive about
repeating it to our progeny, relatives, and friends. Really, what
were we thinking? The surrounding gloom and rhythmic sound of the
windshield wipers made me pensive, and the answer slowly played
itself out in the reviewing memories of the past year. We had
shared so much with Andrea…. hearing him in stirring duet with
Bryn, seeing him relaxing into the first totally pop concert at
Lake Las Vegas, witnessing the proud debut at the hallowed Teatro
di San Carlo, and helping to affirm that coronation from 18,000 at
the storied Hollywood Bowl. The chance to share this new milestone
in his career was difficult to resist. We had covered a lot of
ground in one year, but in a way this was the longest journey of
all, and maybe the biggest leap for Andrea. It was clear from the
first moment it was announced that this debut at Avery Fisher Hall
with the New York Philharmonic was monumentally important to him.
When else had he impulsively posted to the forum of his Web site
with such an effusively exultant outpouring from his heart about
this most significant moment in his career—this "dream come
true."
-
- I don’t know why it had never
hit me before—this was not the first time we had been to Lincoln
Center—but Wednesday evening as we approached the arts complex
for the concert, it suddenly struck me——maybe it was something
about the slant of the setting sun reflecting on the raucous
fountains plashing in the center of the square, and the milling
crowd gathered in little groups of animated conversation. Anyway
it seemed just then that Lincoln Center was the New York
equivalent of an Italian piazza…a gathering place of the musical
arts, this grand open space bordered by the great halls embracing
the little community of music lovers congregating there—this
night for Andrea.
-
- It was clear that all associated
with Avery Fisher Hall were aware that this concert had sold out
in four days…from the security guard, to the bartender, to the
ushers—they seemed to be suitably impressed and enjoying the
excitement and the camaraderie with the fans. Captain Sheldon, the
head of security stationed at the front door, struck up a
conversation as he helped us in and was astonished that we had
driven all the way from Washington, DC. Hey, I said, that was
nothing. We had a friend who had come all the way from Austria!!
For so many, it really was something of a pilgrimage to the
musical center of the universe for this moment—Texas, Colorado,
Michigan, Washington state, Pennsylvania, Virginia, New Jersey,
Louisiana, Florida, and the world…Austria, England, and even
Singapore, a 32-hour trek for a woman I met sitting in front of us
in the second row at the first concert.
-
- The program announced that the
concert would be 1½ hours long with an intermission. The symmetry
of the performance was different for a Bocelli concert: orchestral
piece, four romances, orchestral piece, intermission, orchestral
pieces, four romances, wild applause, encores, more furiously wild
applause!! (OK so that last part isn’t so new for a Bocelli
concert.) The orchestra opened with the familiar Overture to La
Forza del destino, throbbing with energy and, well, forza! Every
instrument was distinct within the whole, yet blended perfectly to
produce a luxurious richness and crisp precision I had not
experienced before. Under the baton of Maestro Asher Fisch, the
pacing was driving and precise and very powerful. It was a fitting
introduction to accompany and enflame our growing anticipation for
the moment when Andrea would make that first thrilling appearance
on stage and we could extend that first greeting to him. This
opening night we gave Andrea the gift of every ounce of support
our hearts and souls could muster! He looked trim and serenely
handsome in his perfectly tailored tails, white shirt, vest, and
bow tie, and the shiny, flattering silk cummerbund. But, save for
a brief smile, it was a quite serious Andrea standing before us
opening night. The smiles that flickered briefly across his face
from time to time during the first set of four romances seemed
almost a half-hearted effort at self-encouragement, as if he was
thinking that he still had a long way to go to work his way
through all eight pieces. However, after intermission, his initial
jitters seemed subdued, and Andrea sang more strongly. In fact,
the nervousness did not seem to bother him on any of the following
nights
-
- These romances of Verdi are
colorfully described little vignettes of life and of the
characters, feelings, and experiences that peopled his artistic
mind and yet seem so universally applicable. With each new hearing
of these songs, my appreciation grew for what Andrea was doing to
carefully craft each of them. There were memorable vocal moments
that stood out for each—In solitaria stanza opened the first set
of four, I wondered if the anguished words matched Andrea’s
throes of nervousness. Il poveretto describes a pauper, a proud
soldier forgotten by the country he once loyally defended, now
reduced to begging. To illustrate the scene, Andrea momentarily
struck a slightly military stance and coaxed such ardent respect
from the phrase "la mia patria" (my country). And at the
end when he sang so plaintively "un soldo" (a penny), I
couldn’t imagine even the cruelest miser denying him. The darkly
passionate thoughts of Il mistero (The Mystery) encompassed the
richness of Andrea’s lower range. The way he caressed the very
last word, "nobil cuor" (noble heart), still
reverberates in my mind. L’Esule (The Exile) had an extended
introductory musical interlude that mimicked the sounds of nature
described in the song—gentle breezes, rippling waters, and a
white moon bathing all in light. The sound of the violin section
was especially lush here. When Andrea finally seamlessly intoned
the first two lines, sweetly high and melodic and then lower, it
sounded exactly like silver moonbeams flowing out from him over
the hillsides. Spellbinding. It was in this piece too that he
perfectly colored the word "soave" (sweet) to match the
meaning…so exquisitely beautiful, and then the yearning
wistfulness in "pianto" that truly made this word weep.
There were many moments like this from him in the successive
concerts.
-
- Like the Verdi romances, Preludio
sinfonico, which closed the first half of the concerts, was a New
York Philharmonic premiere. The longest orchestral offering at 11
minutes, it is the kind of music that washes over you and commands
your complete surrender. This piece builds to a brilliant
crescendo and release in a burst of tone, then diminishes gently
to a tranquility that glows with reverence. This final part of the
work immediately brought to mind a memory of the tranquil lakeside
setting at dusk in Torre del lago, Puccini’s Tuscan home. The
ending felt like a benediction that the audience was loathe to
disturb with applause. In fact, it cast this same spell every
night, and there was a breathless hush for several seconds before
that first flood of appreciative applause went out to the
musicians and their conductor. Their final two pieces that opened
the second half of the concert, Prelude to Act III of Manon
Lescaut and the achingly beautiful Intermezzo from Cavalleria
rusticana brought appreciative applause. The Manon shimmered with
exquisite violin passages, and if there is a human being on earth
who can resist the emotional power and unsurpassed beauty of the
Intermezzo, they must be hard-hearted indeed. The musicians stood
for a well-deserved bow and smiled at the enthusiasm of the
audience.
-
- Deh Pietoso, Oh Addolorata (Oh
Have Pity, Oh Mother of Sorrows) began the second set of four
romances, with a very definite emotional input from Andrea. It
seemed to touch him deeply. The next two songs, Il tramonto (The
Sunset) and Ad una stella (To a Star) seemed the sweetest and most
melodic of the songs, but still described experience fraught with
weary longing. On the whole, Verdi’s eight songs are rather
relentlessly melancholy, lonely, and full of heartbreak and
sadness. Possibly Ad una stella was my favorite with its lilting
memorable melody and beautifully executed trills from Andrea. The
Brindisi is a really captivating and jaunty drinking toast. The
last of the eight songs, each time Andrea came to it, he smiled
and thrust out the words with energy (relief at the end?),
although I felt he had the capability to give it even more. This
was also definitely one time (there were others) when I felt the
orchestra could have held back in volume. It’s hard to compete
with blaring horns, but Andrea held his own.
-
- That first night, the concert
ended with decisively warm applause that climaxed in a somewhat
tentative standing ovation spearheaded by the most avid fans.
Andrea quickly returned to the stage and announced the first of
what would be four encores. He quietly introduced each with simply
the name of the composer and the name of the piece. First he
offered Non t’accostare all’urna (arranged, as Andrea
announced in Italian, by the Italian-American Steven Mercurio).
This afforded Andrea an opportunity to show us a tenor trick I had
never before experienced…a final note, certainly at the lowest
end of his range, masterfully held in a strongly reverberating
depth of passion. I almost think he included it just so he could
sing low for a long, long time!! Our applause level indicated that
we were pretty impressed too. Two more encores followed: Occhi di
fata and Vaghissima sembianza. These familiar songs—a bit like
old-fashioned valentines—show off the irresistible and
compellingly romantic and wistful sweetness of Andrea’s voice.
The applause grew warmer and more ardent after each one. Clearly
we didn’t want to let him go. But when Maestro Fisch took the
podium for a fourth encore and Andrea announced, nearly inaudibly,
that with the strength that was left to him ("la forza che mi
rimane") he would sing Di quella pira, there was an audible
gasp from the audience…well, OK…specifically from me…followed
by my unbidden exclamation of disbelief "Are you kidding me?"
that escaped before I could stifle it. Andrea heard it and laughed.
And indeed he wasn’t kidding me or anybody…sing it he did,
strong and clear. And when the stirring music caught the audience
up, and when he finished with the thrilling high C hit dead-on,
the 2700+ in the hall surrendered to him—every last one from top
tier to the floor— and they shot to their feet in immediate
adulation. Oh you crazy tenor!! The broadest beaming smile was not
enough to express the feeling of that moment…only gleeful
laughter would do. The sense of something historic happening for
him was in the air. People kept turning their heads to capture the
full sweep of the scene around them while the whole house
maintained the unbelievable sustained applause that acknowledged
the glory of it!!
-
- By Friday’s concert, the reviews
of opening night had hit the papers. It would have been grand to
report that the critics finally gave Andrea his due. They did not.
If the Little Prince will allow me to borrow a few of his words,
perhaps it is only with the heart that one hears rightly. What is
essential is inaudible to the critics. I only mention this because
if Andrea had read any of the reviews, he didn’t let it get to
him. He has the heart of a lion. One more time, he came out to the
fans who clearly loved him, he stood tall, visibly took a long
breath, and began his tenor job again. His proud response was to
redouble his efforts and pour out more intense feeling and
strength into these final two performances. Each song now seemed
even more emotionally powerful. He physically leaned into the
notes, moved with rhythm, and seemed animated now with the sheer
pleasure, more than the responsibility, of singing. Once, I think
it was after Il tramonto, he lit up with a big smile that seemed
to say he liked the way that one turned out just fine.
-
- We had thought that nothing could
top the exhilaration of the incredibly enthusiastic response
opening night, but it seemed that Saturday’s audience stood by
Andrea with redoubled intensity. (Had they too seen the reviews?)
I have been to many performances…both concert and opera. I don’t
think I have ever experienced adulation at the end of a
performance like that final night at Avery Fisher Hall. During the
course of the evening, just as it had happened for each of the
previous nights, the applause was warm and generous. But Saturday,
the standing ovations were already freely bestowed at the second
encore. And by the time Andrea had found the holy grail of
tenordom, that easy high C of Di quella, well, I’m not sure I
have the words to describe what happened next. The whistles and
shouts and cheers continued unrelentingly and crescendoed until
Andrea came out again. Everyone knew that he had already given it
all, but we somehow didn’t have the heart to let him go. It was
madness, wild exuberance. The sound was physically palpable. It
was the one phrase the critics got right: "a sea of approval"!
He left the stage and, still, there was no let-up until he came a
second time. Up in the tiers I could see Zarin Mehta, President
and Executive Director of the New York Philharmonic taking it all
in. One box over to his right was Sarah Ferguson, with Patrizia
Orciani, the soprano, and her husband. All grinning and applauding
wildly. Lorin Maazel was there as well. But in the second row
behind them, face radiant with her loving smile, Veronica stood,
as she had each night when Andrea took the stage, and beamed to
him below. Then he walked off—but not before giving us that now
signature final wave and the broadest grin he could manage.
-
- From the first jolt of the opening
chords of La Forza del destino just four days before to the
triumphant thrust of that last high C of Di quella pira the final
night, this had been an emotional journey. As we were quietly
leaving Avery Fisher Hall with thoughts of the extraordinary man
who had worked so hard this and every night to give us the gift of
his music with every fiber of his being, I glanced up and noticed
on the wall something I had somehow missed before. It was the
photograph of a proudly distinguished but benevolent-looking
gentleman. There was a dedication below that read:
-
- Avery Fisher
- Wise, elegant, gentle, caring
- Lover of classical music, his
lifelong philosophy was to give back to the world what music had
given to him.
-
- It seems to me that Mr. Avery
Fisher might well have been a man who would have been proud to
welcome Andrea Bocelli to the hall that bears his name with a
warm, knowing smile and a firm handshake. Kindred spirits. And, it
seems to me, that Mr. Avery Fisher would have appreciated the gift
of music that Andrea gave in this place, with all his heart, to
those who had come.
- by Cami McNamee
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