As all of my readers know (all 5 of you), I studied singing growing up and on into college. It held a huge place in my life for a while. After college and grad school study, I strongly considered trying my luck at cutting it as a professional opera singer for a living, but another voice - the one in my head - told me years ago that it wasn't the life for me. I do sing today in a group on the side, and I get a lot of satisfaction out of it. I've found a fairly happy balance. But do I sometimes wonder "what if"? Yes, I do. We all have something in our lives we ask ourselves "what if" about; my life has been fortunate in too many ways for me to dwell on "what if's".
Singing and the path it put me on when I was younger will always be a big part of who I am. I have a lot of memories - fond ones, and not so fond ones - of many, many lessons I learned about myself during that time. And this morning I'm reminded of some very fond memories from when I was a child.
Even if you know absolutely nothing about classical music or opera, I'd bet you know who Luciano Pavarotti is. Even if you don't know his name, you probably recognize his face. Like so many people of my generation who have sung or have an appreciation for classical singing and opera, Pavarotti was one of the first singers I recognized as being very special. I didn't come from a musical family, and I wasn't surrounded by music growing up. What exposure I had to the art of opera and singing came early on from hearing Pavarotti sing. He died last night, and I have to admit that I teared up when I heard it on the news.
I vividly remember watching him on PBS as a kid. Whether he was singing on stage during a Met telecast or appearing with Big Bird on Sesame Street, he mesmorized me. I absolutely loved watching him sing. His face, his voice, the genuine and simple joy behind all of it. He had the ability to communicate something meaningful to everybody, from the well-seasoned opera enthusiast in the front row to the 6 year-old version of myself watching him on TV. I was in high school when I met him briefly on a school trip to New York. There is no one else I could have or will ever be as starstruck by.
I've never really thought about it before, but if I were to say I was a "lifelong" fan of anyone, honestly Pavarotti is the only one that fits that description. I imagine there will be lots of tribute-type shows on in the coming days (ok, lots on PBS anyway), and I know I'll be watching them - and probably singing along.
And with that we'll officially end today's music dork moment. Arrivederci.
Even if you know absolutely nothing about classical music or opera, I'd bet you know who Luciano Pavarotti is. Even if you don't know his name, you probably recognize his face. Like so many people of my generation who have sung or have an appreciation for classical singing and opera, Pavarotti was one of the first singers I recognized as being very special. I didn't come from a musical family, and I wasn't surrounded by music growing up. What exposure I had to the art of opera and singing came early on from hearing Pavarotti sing. He died last night, and I have to admit that I teared up when I heard it on the news.
I vividly remember watching him on PBS as a kid. Whether he was singing on stage during a Met telecast or appearing with Big Bird on Sesame Street, he mesmorized me. I absolutely loved watching him sing. His face, his voice, the genuine and simple joy behind all of it. He had the ability to communicate something meaningful to everybody, from the well-seasoned opera enthusiast in the front row to the 6 year-old version of myself watching him on TV. I was in high school when I met him briefly on a school trip to New York. There is no one else I could have or will ever be as starstruck by.
I've never really thought about it before, but if I were to say I was a "lifelong" fan of anyone, honestly Pavarotti is the only one that fits that description. I imagine there will be lots of tribute-type shows on in the coming days (ok, lots on PBS anyway), and I know I'll be watching them - and probably singing along.
And with that we'll officially end today's music dork moment. Arrivederci.
1 comment:
I know how you feel. It dims your perception when someone who just embodies something you love so deeply passes. Ray Charles died on my birthday a few years ago, and hearing the news just made me stop, dumbfounded, for a long while. Opera and soul are miles apart in style, but no one else really meant soul to me like Brother Ray. And Pavarotti was truly unequaled.
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