Nessun Dorma

I'm sharing this because "Nessun Dorma" is the most stunning aria ever written. And because, as the human voice is the most amazing of instruments, that makes this aria the best short length of music ever written. (An argument of course can be made that women’s voices are more “amazing” than men’s voices, but I’ve never felt that was true. I’m a man, I’m a tenor, and this is my post.) Consider, too, that music is the highest of all art—certainly the most mysterious, inexplicable—that it’s therefore also true that this short piece is an instance of the best of all art, ever. And, since art is perhaps the highest expression of our struggling human existence, well then, “Nessun Dorma” is pretty much the be-all and end-all of everything. End of discussion.

Still, if you don’t like opera, if it makes you feel any better, consider that I haven’t attended an opera, nor even listened to one, in years. You would assume that I, too, must not like it either. As it happens, when I listen to “Nessun Dorma” I’m reduced to tears by its unspeakable beauty. I studied to be an operatic tenor when I was young, still have my high C (on occasion), and have some idea what my life would have been like if I’d attempted to go down that most daunting career path. It was my choice to go only so far before finding another way.

In any case, whether you're inclined to watch and listen or not, at least check out the end of this video clip when Kaufmann's done singing for the most arresting, in-the-moment, layered (and protracted) “Nailed it!” expression I’ve ever seen on a man’s face after finishing anything:

Jonas Kaufmann - Nessun Dorma from "An evening with Puccini"

Blogging Hiatus

Please read today's post on my Meta blog, which explains my recent absence from these pages.

Auditioning for the Opera

Today I’m sending you to my Life Stage blog for an audition story.

Sing Every Day

It’s okay to sing every day.

It's okay not to sing every day.

Open Your Mouth

Most vocal problems come down to the singer not opening the throat, and usually this means the singer is not opening the mouth.

Open your mouth and sing.

How It All Began (for Me)

I was a dutiful child. I used to hum along to the vacuum cleaner as I did my chores, singing Silent Night to its susurrus accompaniment. I sang in falsetto, because it was accessible. I didn’t think falsetto was a voice, that I was actually singing. It was just an easy sound to make, so I made it.

My mother stopped me in my tracks—I thought something was wrong. She made me sing, sans vacuum. She asked me where I’d learned to sing like that. I told her nowhere, it was just sounds. She told me it was beautiful, that it was singing, and I should do more of it. So I sang every Christmas carol I knew in this light, unfamiliar voice. It made her very happy.

I will never know if I would have become a singer if it wasn’t that my mother insisted to me that falsetto was beautiful.

A Written Record

I refer you to the same advice I gave today on Guitar Bliss, my blog about guitar music.