"Penso che una vita per la musica sia una vita spesa bene ed e a questo che mi sono dedicato."
"I think a life in music is a life beautifully spent and this is what I have devoted my life to."
-Luciano Pavarotti
That night in 1972, at the New York Met, I remember it well.
Sitting in a box owned by my dear friend Connor, I watched the effortless grace of then relative newcomer Luciano Pavarotti as he performed La Fille Du Regiment. The song flowed from his lips like sweet wine, carrying over the opera house in waves of heavenly spendor, the passion on his face mirroring the passion he had for the music and for the piece itself- it was then I knew I was watching a prodigy unlike the world had ever seen.
And what issued from Pavarotti's very being during that performance proved that statement I made to Connor, who had simply chuckled at the over exuberance I was so prone to when it came to music.
The first high C was expected- every good tenor worth his salt can hit at least one.
But then there came two.
By the fifth high C, the audience was sighing and awestruck, caught in the rapture of the voice that seemed to take them in like a spider takes her prey into the web.
By the seventh and final, the audience was in an uproar, applauding, shouting "Bravo!" and "Bravissimo!", Connor himself on his feet with- to my satisfaction- a dumbstruck look on his face, palms red from the vigorous applause. Myself, moved as I was by this voice that struck my very soul, was wiping joyous tears from my eyes even as I shouted my own praise and adoration.
He received seventeen curtain calls that night.
Seventeen.
No performer since has [or, I believe, ever will] received that distinction.
That night marked the dawn of a golden age for Pavarotti.
Connor was fortunate enough to be allowed back stage to the dressing room, where Pavarotti was seen dabbing at his forehead with his signature handkerchief, looking almost relieved that the performance was over, yet at the same time radiating with the energy the audience had given him in their adoration. Flitting about him were dozens of well-wishers, but when he saw Connor, his face lit up and he walked over to greet us, speaking in Italian [a language I had yet to master] and clasping his hand heartily. Connor introduced me, and Maestro took my hand and kissed it as was his gentlemanly fashion, thanking me for my praise and excusing himself to a previous engagement, promising to have us over one day to his home in Italy.
And I have followed his career ever since.
In the following years he sang worldwide, made frequent television appearances; had the first performance in at Great Hall of the People in China and was awarded numerous Grammy awards and platinum and gold discs for his performances.
Arguably the crowing achievement of his career was his version of Nessun Dorma which became the theme song for the 1990 FIFA World Cup.
It for this song he is remembered.
And this song will always remind me of him.
I never got the chance to make that visit, which I deeply regret, but he always found a bunch of yellow roses in his room after every performance with a card: "Bravissimo, Maestro!"
Rest in peace, dear friend.
"I have had everything in life, really everything. And if everything is taken away from me, with God we're even and quits."
- Luciano Pavarotti
