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US
concerts 1998
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Washington DC
- April
19
Kennedy Center
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by Mickie
This was Andrea's "official" US debut, and it couldn't
have been more elegant or more important. It took place at
the Kennedy Center in Washington, DC. Everyone in black
tie. Some of the guests for the gala dinner included
Sandra Day O'Connor, US senators, and ambassadors from
many countries. The dinner was a stylish affair, as you
would expect, with a lovely Italian red and California
white wine at each table. But nothing could prepare me for
what was to come...
The concert hall isn't vast - good sized, but not too
large at all. I believe it seats 2400. It’s sold out, and
I read that Andrea’s performance has raised millions for
the Kennedy Center.
I can't believe I'm actually going to see Andrea live for
the first time. The houselights dim and Leonard Slatkin,
the conductor, enters and the orchestra plays the overture
to Candide. Then the moment arrives. Slatkin leaves
and returns with Andrea on his arm. He stands to sing, and
I'm rather surprised to see no microphone and no scarf!
He's wearing a very cool tux with asymmetrical lapels and
one button. He looks beautiful. His hair is not blown
back, but forward, although his bangs are parted in the
middle to reveal his brow. He kind of tugs at himself
before he begins to sing. He looks very nervous to me, and
very tired. He starts with "La donna e mobile." Although
it’s true his voice is not huge, it’s clear and beautiful.
He receives much applause and "Bravos." Now he sings
"Pourquoi me reveiller." Also well recieved. Carlo Bernini
comes out and stands behind him and waits for the applause
to die down a little, touches Andrea, and Andrea takes his
arm, smiles and turns to the audience to wave on the way
out of course! His stride is long and purposeful walking
on and off the stage - not hesitant at all. His smile is
big, but quick. He's still nervous. Several times during
the performance, you could see him reach for The Scarf
That Is Not There, and he seemed not to know what to do
with his hands. Another thing I noticed is that he kind of
leans over to sing certain notes. This must just be habit,
as there is no microphone.
The orchestra plays the intermezzo from Cavalleria
Rusticana. Bernini leads Andrea back on stage. He
sings "E lucevan le stelle." Beautiful. The sob at the end
somewhat subdued, as on Aria. Lots of "Bravos" and
applause. Bernini escorts him off. The smile, the wave.
Now the soprano comes out. She is a last minute
replacement for the scheduled soprano, Cecilia Gasdia, who
is ill. Her name is Hei-Kyung Hong. She’s Korean, and she
is lovely. She sings "Vilia" from the Merry Widow, and
it’s clear that the audience loves her. She leaves and
brings Andrea back with her to sing "O soave fanciulla."
It’s really, really nice. He puts his arm around her, and
they are very flirtatious. She is a coy Mimi. When he
sings "Nel bacio freme amor," he bends his face down to
hers and she lifts her face up to his and they get very
close. Then when he sings "E al ritorno?" and she replies
"Curioso!" they're almost laughing - flirting with each
other. They sing a lot with her hand in his, placed on his
chest. They look like lovers, and as if they reallly enjoy
each other.They're wonderful, and the audience goes crazy!
We love this one! Many bows. They leave and we bring both
of them back for more bows. Now he’s smiling and maybe a
little less nervous?
Then a Verdi overture from the orchestra, and Andrea is
led back out by Bernini and he sings four Neapolitan songs
by Tosti: "Non t’amo piu," "Sogno," "Malia," and "La
serenata." The only one I’m familiar with is "Sogno."
Again, I think it’s beatiful. But I think he’s tiring. And
again, a little fidgeting with the hands. Bernini leads
him off again.
The orchestra and choir now do the Polovitsian Dances by
Borodin. Very dramatic. The soprano comes back out and
sings "O, mio babbino caro" very nicely. She leaves and
brings Andrea back with her to sing "Brindisi." It's
received very well. It’s over. But no! An immediate
standing ovation, and thunderous applause. They come out
and bow again, leave, come out and bow again, and leave.
He's teasing us! The applause never stops. Andrea returns
for an encore. His first encore is Schubert’s "Ave Maria,"
in Italian. It’s very beautiful and haunting, and just
before he begins to sing it, he folds his hands in front
of him as if in prayer for a moment. Ah, that was so
charming. Then, more applause, and another encore. He then
sings "Panis Angelicus." Now another standing ovation,
applause, applause, applause. We bring him back again and
again. The orchestra is waiting. He speaks with the
conductor. It looks as if the conductor wants him to sing
again, but Andrea’s body language and gestures indicate
that he is totally spent and exhausted, and just doesn’t
have another song in him this night. We don’t give up,
though. We continue to stand and applaud, but as he leaves
for the last time, we say, "Nooooo!" But now the orchestra
gets up. There will be no more music tonight.
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Hartford
- July 19
Hartford Civic Center
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by Mickie
The concert was wonderful! Andrea wore the same tux
that he wore in Washington, and it was a little big on him. He’s lost some weight since Washington. He looked
like a little boy in his papa's tuxedo. Who cared, because
he looked fabulous, and I have never heard him sing so
beautifully. Such passion, such emotion. The crowd was
wild, and gave him standing ovations after a lot of the
songs. Steven Mercurio, the conductor, was very serious
during the first half - the arias.
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But during the second half, when Andrea sang the
Neapolitan songs, Mercurio was a big goof! During "O Sole
Mio" he poked Andrea in the ribs with the baton. Andrea
stayed focused, and didn't crack a smile. But between
songs he and Mercurio would laugh together, and goof
around. When Andrea would try to leave, Mercurio would turn
him around and push him out there to take more bows and
Andrea couldn't help but laugh! During "O Sole Mio"
Mercurio got the audience to sing along, and Andrea would
wait just a little to give the audience a chance to start
singing. It was fun! During "Brindisi" Mercurio made the
audience clap along. He's pretty great. My pet peeve was
that the audience would begin to clap before the songs
were over. For example, when Andrea sang the last
"dormire" in "Romanza" you couldn't even hear it for the
applause.
The soprano , Ana Maria Martinez, was unbelievably good.
Young, pretty, and a voice that was VERY beautiful. She
just glowed when she sang, and they were great together.
Of course, when it was over, everyone wanted more, the
applause never stopped, and everyone was stamping their
feet. But it was over. He was so fabulous this evening. I
thought he could never be better. But oh, then there was
Philadelphia...
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Philadelphia
July 21
Corestates Arena
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by Mickie
I thought nothing would ever top Hartford, but
Philadelphia was magic! Maybe because we were in the front
row, and so close, but also because I've never
heard
anything so wonderful. Andrea gave the performance of his
life! He was a little nervous at first, fiddling always
with his foot marker, but he loosened up (and he also wore
a tux that fit). He sang every note with an emotion I've
never seen before. He brought tears to my eyes.
When he sang "Core 'ngrato" his left fist was closed so
tight, like he really was feeling the pain of the song,
and then at one point he hit himself in the thigh with his
right hand, while he was singing. It was really something
to see and hear. And when Martinez sang "Si, mi chiamano
Mimi" he kept edging closer and closer to her, and
touching her. She sang this song beautifully, and he was
obviously totally mesmerized by her. After she sang it,
before they sang "O soave fanciulla," he kissed her on the
forehead. She was so great! And they were wonderful together, always
smiling. She beamed at him every time she
sang with him. It was so lovely to see.
Andrea and
Mercurio were so good together once again, laughing and
shaking hands after every single song. Mercurio kept
turning him around and pushing him in the back to take his
bows, and Andrea would just do it and laugh. Finally, at
one point, Andrea grabbed Mercurio, and pushed him out
there to take a bow! Everybody laughed. And then Andrea
hugged him around the waist, and Mercurio ruffled up
Andrea's hair. I just can't tell you how relaxed and happy
AB looked during this concert!
And his voice - just incredible!! I've never seen him sing with such
passion.
The whole evening was truly glorious. Once again the
audience clapped before Andrea could finish his last
beautiful notes, and when he sang "Vi piaccia dir" at the
end of "Che gelida manina," since no one could hear the
last beautiful soft note, Andrea just cut it short.
I had the wonderful fortune to be able to speak to him the
previous day, and I told him that I’d love to hear him
sing "La Vedova Allegra" in encore. He hadn’t sung this in
Pittsburgh or Hartford. He looked dismayed, and told me,
"We have not rehearsed. We have not rehearsed."
Then the magic moment. The last encore. The orchestra
struck up the beginning strains of..."La Vedova
Allegra."
I couldn't believe my ears. Allow me my fantasy...I'll
always think he sang it for me ;-)
Then, at the very end of
the concert he spoke to us. He said (big smile) "I want to
say, in my bad English, that you have been very kind. The
reception that I have received here makes me feel very
warm, and I feel very much like I am at home in Italy."
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Washington DC
October
18
MCI Center
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by Eileen
It is a beautiful cool October night in Washington,
DC. This evening could not be any more different from the
hot and sultry one in Philadelphia this past July, my
first concert experience with Andrea. That night my seat
was as far away from the stage as it could possibly be.
The impact of his performance was greatly diminished by
such a distance, and I have felt bereft from the
experience ever since. This time I am truly blessed as my
seat is on the floor, front and center. I have the most
incredible feeling about tonight, that it will prove to be
an extraordinary moment in my life.
The demographic of the crowd surrounding me is simply
amazing: young, old, male, female, affluent, middle-class... Andrea attracts them all. The synergy
among us is almost palatable as we await the start of the
concert. During this prelude, I am dismayed to realize
that I am actually thinking about Andrea's haircut! I have
adamantly professed, both privately and publicly, not to
care in the least about his appearance. But now I fear
that I am not so sure and I brace myself for
disappointment, feeling ashamed of my shallowness. But
then he appears. There is without doubt an audible gasp
from some in the crowd who, clutching glossy Aria programs
in their hands, were not prepared for this sight. With
minor assistance from Rota, he strides purposefully to the
microphone and then stands so still for our review. How
could I have considered for a moment that I would feel
differently? When beautiful wrapping paper is removed from
a beautiful gift, do we ever long for its return? Without
the diffusion of dark hair, his face is now so clearly
revealed. With each raised eyebrow, with each tentative
smile, every nuance of emotion has a full canvas for
display. He is just beautiful. Period.
Rota raises his baton, and so it begins. Starting with the
haunting "E lucevan le stelle" the arias drift out into
the arena and it just does not seems possible that it was
only three short months ago that I had been disappointed
by this repertoire. Then I had come for "Romanza," but
Andrea had a higher purpose. Gently, resolutely, he has
led me to his beloved opera and now I welcome each of
these songs as old friends, so grateful for this second
chance to receive them as he intended.
At first this Andrea seems different from the one in
Philadelphia. He is fighting his demons again and appears
to be uncomfortable. As accomplished as Rota is, perhaps
the impish Mercurio is Andrea's better counterpoint,
capable of dissipating his nervousness. My heart goes out
to him and I am struck by this disparity of emotions,
marked by a mere chasm of only a few feet. On the one side, singular
suffering; on the other, collective euphoria. I wish him release from the anxiety he must
constantly face, but in my selfishness I am glad that he
continues to heed destiny's call.
Paola Sanguinetti is now on the stage. She is very lovely
and Andrea seems to relax in her presence. As with each of
his partners before, I am divided by feelings of shameless
jealousy and vicarious joy. And as always, the former
quickly fades, the latter prevails as both their voices
entwine and I imagine just how right that must feel, to be
in complete concert with another. With Paola I know that
the Boheme sequence is drawing near, and my pulse quickens. Each of us has our Andrea
song, the one that
speaks to our soul. Mine is "Che Gelida Manina". At last
the orchestra strikes the lone, introductory chord. Andrea
begins his beautiful tale of cold hands, of poems and
castles in the air, of love's first blush, and I know it's
coming. I know it's coming and I close my eyes, like a
lover awaiting a familiar kiss. His high C soars over the
crowd... "Speranza" ... Hope! It enters my heart and, like
each time before, renews all that is good within me and
affirms that better still is yet to come.
He is so at ease now and the transformation is really
quite incredible. I know that opera is his first love, but
he brings a natural expansiveness to the Neapolitan songs
that seems to transcend his usual reserve. The crowd
instinctively responds to this openness, emanating back
the love and appreciation that further serve to relax him.
We have entered into a partnership with this give-and-take, a role we savor and willingly
assume.
All sense of time and place has been suspended as the
concert continues on, drawing too quickly to its
inevitable close. In encore, Andrea lovingly presents his
gifts: "O Sole Mio," "La Vedova Allegra" and, of
course,
"Time To Say Goodbye". The crowd roars its approval after
each, applauding until we can no longer feel our hands. We
have become of one mind, an incredible cohesion that
brings tears to my eyes. When it is finally over, everyone
leaves as if in a trance, feeling momentarily replete, but
knowing deep in our hearts that we will never be fully
satisfied.
It is a long ride home. In the dark I struggle, like many
before, to encapsulate what it is that sets Andrea apart,
and an image comes to me. A jeweler, wishing to display a
flawless diamond, simply places it on a piece of black
velvet. In contrast to that darkness, its perfect
brilliance shines forth. And this is Andrea's magic. With
his stillness of spirit, with his composure of body and
countenance, there is nothing to vie for our attention,
and so we receive the power of his song, full strength,
straight into our hearts. And once having experienced such
undiluted passion, we find ourselves simply incapable of
settling for anything less, ever again.
And so my intuition about this evening has proven to be
true. For tonight has been a crescendo to the ongoing
symphony within my soul, whose first melody was composed
many months ago, as if by magic, on a distant Tuscan stage. And the enormity of what I am feeling overwhelms
me. For with all my secret pride in my ability to use
language to paint a picture or to evoke emotion, I am
humbled by this realization. This time my words cannot
adequately express the gratitude I feel for this gift he
has given me. And because my words fail me, I can say only
this: "Grazie, Andrea. Grazie e addio"... until we meet
again.
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