Pavarotti

Luciano Pavarotti, for those of you lost in the woods for the past few days, has died at age 71. I don't really have much to say about Pavarotti, so I'll give you the post at Down With Tyranny! by keninny, which relays some thoughts by Conrad L. Osborne and is pretty interesting. If you want the ultimate obituary, here's the one from NYT.

Note the photo -- Pavarotti with the omnipresent handkerchief, because he always sweat like a horse when he was performing in concert. I remember seeing him in an appearance on TV with Domingo, where they did some compelling singing. It was the first time I'd heard "Au fond du temple saint from The Pearlfishers, and was captivated -- enough to go out and buy a recording of the opera. And I remember close-ups of Pavarotti just dripping. The man was giving it his all.

I should explain that I'm not a diva queen. My appreciation of opera has grown steadily over the years (although I still am not terrifically fond of Verdi -- I'm much more a Puccini-Wagner-Strauss sort, with, of course, a great love for Mozart), but I can't get into the deification of soloists. I'm one of the few people I know who can watch old films of Callas and be . . . well, not unmoved, but not swept away, either.

That said, however, one must recognize the importance of Pavarotti to the growth of public appreciation of opera in the last generation or two, and also recognize his immense humanity and generosity. We have all suffered a sore loss.