- Tales From the Wiener Staatsoper
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- die Stadt
For four spectacularly sunny days, we
had tasted nearly all that Vienna had to offer—a drive through the
famed Vienna Woods beside the swiftly sparkling, pale emerald (no, not
blue) Danube, the history of the Holy Roman Empire and the Hapsburgs,
crowned jewels, royal palaces, dark rich Sachertorte, endless Kaffee
mit Schlag, Wiener Schnitzel, Apfelstrudel, and foaming beer. But in
this city whose heart’s lifeblood is music—Schumann, Schubert,
Strauss, Haydn, Brahms, Beethoven, Mozart—all residents whose music
echoes everywhere, the high note of our stay was, of course, sung by
Andrea Bocelli. At the hallowed Wiener Staatsoper on September 24,
2007, Andrea humbly bestowed his own contribution to this city steeped
in melody.
das Opernhaus
In a year’s time, Andrea has made
milestone appearances at three storied venues: at the venerable and
prestigious Teatro di San Carlo in Naples, with the impeccable New
York Philharmonic at Avery Fisher Hall, and now here at the peerless
Staatsoper of Vienna. From the outside, the first glimpse of the opera
house is breathtaking. It is truly grand, both in size and appearance,
the arcaded front windows in the Renaissance style, crowned on either
side with majestic equestrian bronze statues that Andrea would
appreciate, the side loggias complemented by two beautiful fountains.
It is a centerpiece of the old city. Once inside, the main foyer with
the famous grand staircase sweeps you into the proper mind-set for
"grand opera." This mecca of classical music is steeped in
tradition and memories of the famous who have performed here. Just
weeks ago a black flag of mourning had flown from its rooftop for
perhaps its most famous adopted son, the tenor from Modena. Hans
Richter, Richard Strauss, Arturo Toscanini, Karl Böhm, Fritz Reiner,
Antal Dorati, Herbert von Karajan, Lorin Maazel, Zubin Mehta, Leonard
Bernstein, Riccardo Muti, Georg Solti, Giuseppe Sinopoli, Claudio
Abbado, and now Seiji Ozawa have been among its illustrious directors
and conductors. But the interior theater itself belies the grandeur
without. The red velvet, ivory, and gold décor is presented in a
classically conservative design. Nothing ornately showy or gaudy, no
gilded ostentation, direct and elegant….actually, a perfectly
matched setting for our tenor.
das Konzert
The first moment of this historic
evening came upon us without warning. No preliminaries. No welcoming
announcement. No introductory overture of full orchestra as with
previous concerts. Andrea and Carlo quietly walked out of the side
wings, and he was there. Taken unaware this way, only a few more
alertly observant members of the audience noticed and reacted in a
startled and somewhat scattered welcoming applause that alerted us to
his presence…but what began sporadically soon swelled to warm
appreciation that the long-awaited moment had come at last. There was
no need on Andrea’s part to earn this applause…it poured forth out
of the sheer delight in his mere presence. Despite his summer tan that
had glowed at the July concert in Lajatico, Andrea seemed pale at this
first moment onstage…his smile tentative, preoccupied, and fleeting—all
the enormity of the significance of this important undertaking
weighing on his shoulders. He was clean-shaven and, although handsome
as ever in his trim "everyday" tux with the stylish,
flared-collar, formal white shirt and tie, he seemed singularly
vulnerable on the big stage that was extended to cover the orchestra
pit, and thus brought him closer to us. So it began at the Wiener
Staatsoper. Andrea, Carlo, and the beautiful, shiny-black Bosendoerfer
grand. It was all we needed.
- das Programm
- The concept for the evening’s
program was simple, and simply brilliant—three hundred years of
Italian music that fit Andrea’s sweetly nuanced lyric tenor
perfectly, challenged his vocal range and power, and displayed his
maturing technical mastery to full effect. The intensely romantic
repertoire was divided into two parts. The first ranged from Caccini,
among the founding fathers of opera who first sought to shine the
spotlight on the solo singing voice, to the vocal and emotional
complexity of Verdi. From Caccini, he chose "Amarilli," a
love song, simple and direct. Coupled with the sublime elegance of
this Renaissance melody, Andrea’s voice was the vocal equivalent
of pearls on black velvet. It was over too soon. Next, the jaunty
"Vittoria, Vittoria," from Carissimi, in the same romantic
vein, the lively notes crisply and precisely timed, and some
extremely challenging trills, typical of this era, that Andrea
controlled nicely. The audience response at this point seemed
somewhat reserved, but open. The comicly mournful "Tres giorni
son che Nina"—Pergolesi’s song of a lovelorn young maid who
had taken to her bed in melancholy collapse over unrequited love—was
a bit more complex with its melodic jumps from low to high and a
final, beautifully controlled high sweet note from Andrea that now
decidedly began to weave its spell with the audience. Clearly our
tenor was warming to the task. It was wonderful to hear him testing
the waters of completely new material. When Andrea loves a melody, I
swear you can hear the warm glow in his voice and his whole
body leans into the singing of it. This is how it was with Giordani’s
yearningly romantic melody, "Caro mio ben." It was the
first song of the evening that was familiar to me, and it was
achingly lovely, enchantingly sweet.
- I have to apologize. Sweet, sweet,
sweet seems to be the mantra in these descriptions, boringly
repeated, but to characterize these songs it is impossible to avoid
the word. With Andrea, however, such musical sweetness is never
candy-coated but has an emotional depth and richness that is
heartfelt and delicately spun. For this concert, he seemed to have
an endless store of the sweet notes that only he floats so
incomparably. The next two choices were canzonetti from Bellini, the
master of bel canto: "Malinconia, ninfa gentile" and
"Per pietà, bell'idol mio." Although these had been written
as chamber music to fit an intimate setting, Andrea’s renditions
easily filled the vast theater, and we basked in the intimate
romance of his voice. In each piece, he displayed strong power notes
and a fluidly melodic line, and in "Ninfa" we had the rare
treat of an impressive cadenza…an unaccompanied, captivating,
vocal confection from Andrea that commanded rapt attention and
stopped more than 1700 throats in that theater at midbreath.
- For me, the climax of the first set
was definitely the two romanze of Verdi—presenting a marked
contrast from the first simple jewel of Caccini. The mournful
"Non t’accostare all’urna" is filled with forceful
power and boldly deep emotion, and Andrea was now more than ready
for the task. As he had in New York at Avery Fisher Hall, on the
final word dormir he held forever the last, low, long note of
this piece, literally and symbolically invoking the eternal peace of
sleep. The successful effort clearly made him VERY happy indeed!
Big, big, smile. He then took "L’esule"—the final
offering of this first part of the program—in full stride. This is
a piece that allows Andrea to exhibit a range of technical skills,
beginning with an aptly placed vocal jump in the first musical
phrase from high to low on the word colli, through
wonderfully wrought color that underscored the emotional sense of soave,
the isolated loneliness of pensoso mi staro’, and the
plaintive desperation of condannato al pianto. It was clear
that he was in the zone, inhabiting only this song…all the initial
nervousness fallen away, only the microcosm of the music that
mattered…he hit the impressively glorious final high note (a B
flat?) with ease and, in response, the audience was totally his.
With the well-known romantic repertoire of Tosti, Danaudy, and Denza
still to come in the second half—perfectly matched to Andrea’s
vocal strengths—there was no doubt he would be in his glory.
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- zwei Freunde—zwei Maestros
- During the intermission, I thought
of Carlo and Andrea. Andrea’s is a fiercely loyal heart that
inspires and firmly binds lifelong friendships. Among those in this
closeknit circle, Carlo Bernini is unique. His faithful support and
prodigious musical skills have been and continue to be integral in
shaping the musical gifts that Andrea shares with us. We are the
final benefactors of their labors together. Before Andrea takes the
concert stage, records the CD, sings the opening notes of the live
opera, there are long, patient, selflessly dedicated hours of hard
work….to memorize, correct, fine-tune, perfect, revise, repeat,
refresh, and polish to perfection. Whenever and wherever Andrea has
need, you will find Carlo.
- More often than not it was Carlo at
Andrea’s side to do what needed doing throughout the grueling
daily schedule of his concert tours. And long before the concert
tours, the two had forged a friendship straddling both their
personal and professional worlds. Much of this is now "Bocelli-lore"—their
first meeting in the house at Lajatico, the amiable soccer team
rivalry, the camaraderie of two devoted dads, the benefit of the
famously honest Carlo critique, the indestructible bond between
these two sons of Tuscany—Bocelli and Bernini. Now they shared
this historic moment in Vienna…together on that fabled stage with
the shiny, black, Bosendorfer grand (the perfect complement, and, it
seemed, the perfect refuge up there for Andrea). From time to time,
he clung to it like a life raft, and to Carlo like a lifeline. It
was a delight to see the interaction between the two—Carlo
vigilantly following and translating the subtle body language of
Andrea to perfectly pace his accompaniment, their brief conversing sotto
voce between songs, the hand-on-shoulder ease of their comings
and goings to and from the stage, which they did for nearly every
other song. (It made you wonder what Andrea could possibly do on
these less-than-30-second breaks…a kiss, a sip, a deep breath, a
sigh, a scratch, a sneeze?). Whatever it was, it included Carlo’s
solid calming confidence. Acconto di Andrea, perpetually
on-call, before popes and presidents, in moments poignant and
profound, the funerals of Andrea’s babbo and, more recently, an
operatic legend, through endless rehearsals, tours, and TV
appearances, if Andrea needs him, unfailingly, Carlo is there. The
friendship between them honors both.
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- Zugaben
- With the five songs of Tosti that
opened the second half of the evening, Andrea confirmed his conquest.
The spell he casts unfailingly with "Serenata" is a sure
winner. This brought his first high C and it was such a visceral
experience—it filled this wonderful theater and came with such
immediacy, unhindered by a microphone—it was just stunning. Much
applause, and many smiles again from our tenor. "Malia"
was like decoratively laced spun sugar. "Ideale" was a
polished vocal gem, the final haunting torna was perfect,
perfect, perfect—enough to capture the most resisting heart…but
there was no need, all here had long ago surrendered. He infused
"Non t’amo piu’" with perfectly placed emotion and
held the final punctuation of the soft note stronger and longer than
I had ever heard before. "Occhi di fata" is a personal
favorite, and I melt with delighted expectation when I hear the
opening notes. This rendition coaxed tears from your eyes. This was
all becoming alarmingly emotionally draining, but what a way to go!
Andrea invested "Musica proibita" with a powerhouse
finish. But with a pang I realized it was the second-to-the-last
aria in the program. How could the time have vanished so quickly? In
"Vaghissima sembianza," he infused the phrase "d’amore"
with impossible richness of emotion. The song is hauntingly sweet
and the disconsolate sadness it conveys was doubly unbearable
because it signaled the end of the evening with our tenor. How could
we possibly let him go? He had invaded our being. By the sheer force
of endless applause, we tried very hard to hold him with us in
suspended animation indefinitely.
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- Geburtstagswünsche
- The wildly enthusiastic standing
ovation is not a habit with seasoned and knowledgeable European
audiences. But this one couldn’t help itself. Andrea responded
with his best radiant smile and clearly intended to very quickly
grant an encore. But before he could get it out, an intrepid
British-accented voice high in the upper balcony to the right of the
stage firmly intoned the first instantly recognizable notes of
"Happy Birthday," and the crowd immediately took it up
with delight. I’m willing to bet that the dusty Staatsoper
archives will yield no previous record of a tenor—or any other
singer for that matter—being serenaded, as Andrea was, with a
rousing rendition of "Happy Birthday" that filled the
staid house to overflowing with the intense goodwill of its
heartfelt wish. His face was lit with a smile that rivaled the
candlepower of any 49 birthday candles, clearly reflecting his
delight at the extraordinary and completely unexpected and
unprecedented gesture of affection. Who but Andrea could inspire a
predominantly German-speaking international audience to sing an
English birthday wish to an Italian tenor in an Austrian opera
house? Of the many Bocelli moments we have been privileged to share,
it was among the sweetest, and one we will never forget.
- glückliches Ende
- Andrea had to wait patiently for the
applause to abate before giving us his first encore, Verdi’s
challenging "Brindisi." After the second encore, "Vorrei
morire," and the continued tidal wave of applause, he looked a
bit bewildered and conferred quickly with Carlo with a look that
conveyed something like "What do we do now coach?" But the
third and final encore he chose all’improvviso couldn’t have
been more simply appropriate. He gave us Tosti’s lovely "A’
Vuchella," the one with the sweetest final note of all.
- So the evening ended as it began—Carlo,
Andrea, and the Bösendorfer grand. It was all we had needed.
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- By Cami McNamee
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