Pavarotti's Death

Luciano Pavarotti

October 12, 1935 - September 6, 2007

Modena, Italy

I was sitting by my computer on the evening of September 5th when I found out that Pavarotti had died. A friend emailed me the sad news. It didn’t come as a surprise given his condition, for it was public knowledge that he was suffering from pancreatic cancer. Just weeks prior to his death, he was back at the hospital in his home town of Modena and the prognosis was not good. Yet what did surprise me was my reaction. I was suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of loss and an inexplicable sadness. Pavarotti....dead? We have lost many opera legends these past few years, but for me it was his death that marked the end of an era.

As a singer, I feel so lucky to have lived during his time for when it came to the art of singing, he was the master. I often find myself wondering how long it will take for us to hear another one like him. I suspect it will be a while since God doesn’t send that kind of talent to us very often. But it’s not just his voice that I will miss, I will also miss his charismatic personality. You just don’t see that kind of infectious charm in an artist very often, and I feel it was this quality in particular which enabled him to reach out to so many.

Yet there are some in the opera world who have criticized his collaborations with pop artists, his part in the Three Tenors enterprise and other mass media events that many in the industry considered “tacky”. Immediately after his death, I turned to classical music publications and sites for the tributes, the praises, the odes, hoping to bask in the glory of what he left behind. Instead, I found myself reading portrayals which focused more on his “misses” than his triumphs. This made me sad all over again.

I, on the other hand, choose to remember this man as the one who gave me goose bumps as Rodolfo; whose “Nessun dorma” makes me cry every time I hear it; who performed the role of Nemorino from the heart and set the standard for “Una furtiva lagrima”. The man who immortalized “Ah! Mes amis” and later went on to sing roles like Manrico successfully. The man who made opera a household name with his so called “tacky” media events. The man who jumped at the opportunity to do a benefit concert for those in need. The man my family and colleagues were crazy about. But most importantly, the man who snubbed the purist notion that opera is for the selected few, and in doing so, paved the way for me and others like me by attracting a much wider audience.

So to Luciano I say, thank you! Thank you for your infectious smile. Thank you for your love of life and music. Thank you for your flawless technique, musicality, and all that you passed on in your master classes. Thank you for your beautiful voice. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart..........