Rest in peace, big guys.

Here comes another sniffly elegy, but there's no way around it, down to the cornball libretto excerpt at the end, and it's just gonna have to be.

I didn't expect to feel so much a blubbering mess to hear that Pavarotti had died. But I am. It doesn't seem to matter what a cartoonish sort of person he became in the drawn-out end to his career, with the duets and the yelpy Nessuns and the futbol and the whatever. I'm still upset.

Someone who was once ever that good...is always that good. Vita brevis and all that.

LP is intimately associated with how I learned to love opera because of the age I am. He really started to get famous-famous when I was a kid, and through my parents' appreciation came my own, watching my mother watch him sing 'Recondite Armonia' with this expression in her eyes I'd never seen before and her shoulders up around her ears. That sounds a little precious, but that's exactly how it happened. Tosca was broadcast on TV and all of a sudden I was warbling the Act III Shepherd's Song to myself on the way to school, trying to figure it out, keening my way annoyingly through the melody of the Te Deum. I dunno, I think Puccini can be very good for young'uns. I remember it going straight inside me and just staying there. I am lucky I remembering hearing his voice that time, what it felt like to hear it for the first time like that. It was significant, seeing somebody as good as he was doing what he did--meaningful. He didn't make it look easy, but he made it look worthy, joyful. Transcendant, to drag out that tired term. It was exciting to be part of. And very accessible at the same time.

I was always rather proud that Ardis Krainik booted Pavarotti out of the Lyric--fairly early on--for cancelling so much. And then, of course, was incredibly graceful about it (as far as I know), sending him flowers when he was performing elsewhere, etc. I really liked that we didn't put up with his crap here in this town. That doesn't mean we didn't love him.

Pavarotti is--I just thought of this--on my logo. And sadly enough, the two men who are depicted on it are now dead. Barry White and Luciano Pavarotti, two big dudes with beards and hankies and thousands of women throwing themselves at them.

E lucevan le stelle,
ed olezzava la terra
stridea l'uscio dell'orto
e un passo sfiorava la rena.
Entrava ella fragrante,
mi cadea fra la braccia.

O dolci baci, o languide carezze,
mentr'io fremente le belle forme disciogliea dai veli!
Svanì per sempre il sogno mio d'amore.
L'ora è fuggita, e muoio disperato!
E non ho amato mai tanto la vita!