Il Divo triumphs at NJPAC debut
Tuesday night, June 5, music filled Prudential Hall’s lobby area—recorded music by a pop duo. The auditorium, heavy with haze, soon filled nearly to capacity, seats occupied everywhere but the back half of the Fourth Tier. Dry ice shrouded the darkened stage in fog. A 26-member unnamed orchestra took the stage as lights dimmed in Prudential Hall. The huge chrome geometric reflecting chandelier—the Hall’s focal point—rose to nestle in the top of the dome. Hearty cheers greeted the conductor who led the musicians in a rousing introduction to “Te amaré” (Come What May, from Baz Luhrmann’s Moulin Rouge). Beyond the dense shadows appeared four slender masculine figures in black Armani suits, and the crowd went wild.
Il Divo and Orchestra, the world’s foremost classical crossover quartet, presented a moving concert of 18 hits from albums old and new. Their latest, Wicked Game (Melanconia) from late 2011, kept the group in the recording studio longer than any other. Sébastien Izambard and David Miller, in pleasant audience banter, both called the unusual production delay a labor of love. The group wanted it ‘just right’ for all their fans, and the two men confidently expressed belief in having achieved it. Judging from the album’s eight numbers performed Tuesday, they stated matters correctly.
Il Divo and Orchestra, the world’s foremost classical crossover quartet, presented a moving concert of 18 hits from albums old and new. Their latest, Wicked Game (Melanconia) from late 2011, kept the group in the recording studio longer than any other. Sébastien Izambard and David Miller, in pleasant audience banter, both called the unusual production delay a labor of love. The group wanted it ‘just right’ for all their fans, and the two men confidently expressed belief in having achieved it. Judging from the album’s eight numbers performed Tuesday, they stated matters correctly.
Tuesday night, June 5, music filled Prudential Hall’s lobby area—recorded music by a pop duo. The auditorium, heavy with haze, soon filled nearly to capacity, seats occupied everywhere but the back half of the Fourth Tier. Dry ice shrouded the darkened stage in fog. A 26-member unnamed orchestra took the stage as lights dimmed in Prudential Hall. The huge chrome geometric reflecting chandelier—the Hall’s focal point—rose to nestle in the top of the dome. Hearty cheers greeted the conductor who led the musicians in a rousing introduction to “Te amaré” (Come What May, from Baz Luhrmann’s Moulin Rouge). Beyond the dense shadows appeared four slender masculine figures in black Armani suits, and the crowd went wild.
Il Divo and Orchestra, the world’s foremost classical crossover quartet, presented a moving concert of 18 hits from albums old and new. Their latest, Wicked Game (Melanconia) from late 2011, kept the group in the recording studio longer than any other. Sébastien Izambard and David Miller, in pleasant audience banter, both called the unusual production delay a labor of love. The group wanted it ‘just right’ for all their fans, and the two men confidently expressed belief in having achieved it. Judging from the album’s eight numbers performed Tuesday, they stated matters correctly.
Il Divo and Orchestra, the world’s foremost classical crossover quartet, presented a moving concert of 18 hits from albums old and new. Their latest, Wicked Game (Melanconia) from late 2011, kept the group in the recording studio longer than any other. Sébastien Izambard and David Miller, in pleasant audience banter, both called the unusual production delay a labor of love. The group wanted it ‘just right’ for all their fans, and the two men confidently expressed belief in having achieved it. Judging from the album’s eight numbers performed Tuesday, they stated matters correctly.
Izambard explained that “Dov’è l’amore” (Where Is Love?), the second number performed, was adapted from a classical number known as Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings, which itself is an arrangement of the second movement, marked “Adagio”, of his String Quartet, Opus 11. The audience rightfully roared upon its dramatic conclusion.
The unsighted would certainly find plenty to enjoy from Il Divo and Orchestra without perceiving the abundant visual effects. From the ever-present fog to the roving synchronised spotlights to the suspended panels displaying vivid projections of fire, a lunar eclipse, and patterns in constant movement, all ablaze with colour, the eye had more than enough to entertain it. Which begs the question: Why? Certainly the group could hold the audience transfixed without these optical extras. That their program includes them is just one shred of evidence of the mighty machinery behind Il Divo, designers and others who obviously know how to ice a cake.
The concert’s second half displayed the Fearsome Four in other Armani attire, only slightly different from the first set. Urs Bühler’s skinny necktie was back, as was Sébastien Izambard’s bow tie, David Miller’s larger bow tie, and Carlos Marín’s allergy to ties of any sort, in view of each white shirt worn halfway unbuttoned. These identities stretched even to a second costume change, for the encore—Francesco Sartori’s “Con te partirò” (Time to Say Good-Bye). This time the four emerged wearing Armani tailcoats and cummerbunds. Group members teasingly made much of Carlos Marín’s availability as the only bachelor among them, and he himself remarked repeatedly to that effect none too subtly. The open shirts, though, were a dead giveaway.
Musical standouts in an outstanding night included Andrew Lloyd Webber’s “Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina”, the frequently performed “Mama”, and the never-absent-from-any-concert-since-the-very-beginning “Every Time I Look at You”. Songs seemed equally divided among Spanish, Italian, and English; only one French number. Touching was the group’s performance of the Whitney Houston hit “I Will Always Love You”, sung in Italian.
Two songs, “Passerà” and “Nella fantasia”, held particular textual interest for their hopeful message of a better future. The former includes the intriguing phrase “passerà su di noi / finiremo tutti in banca prima o poi / coi perché, i chissà / e le angoscie di una ricca povertà” (It will pass away, we will end up at the bank sooner or later, with the whys, the perhapses, and the anguish of a rich poverty).
“Nella fantasia” (In My Fantasy) has a meaningful refrain that translates as: “I dream of souls who are ever free / like the floating clouds / deep down in the soul replete with humanity”. Its three verses translate as follows:
The unsighted would certainly find plenty to enjoy from Il Divo and Orchestra without perceiving the abundant visual effects. From the ever-present fog to the roving synchronised spotlights to the suspended panels displaying vivid projections of fire, a lunar eclipse, and patterns in constant movement, all ablaze with colour, the eye had more than enough to entertain it. Which begs the question: Why? Certainly the group could hold the audience transfixed without these optical extras. That their program includes them is just one shred of evidence of the mighty machinery behind Il Divo, designers and others who obviously know how to ice a cake.
The concert’s second half displayed the Fearsome Four in other Armani attire, only slightly different from the first set. Urs Bühler’s skinny necktie was back, as was Sébastien Izambard’s bow tie, David Miller’s larger bow tie, and Carlos Marín’s allergy to ties of any sort, in view of each white shirt worn halfway unbuttoned. These identities stretched even to a second costume change, for the encore—Francesco Sartori’s “Con te partirò” (Time to Say Good-Bye). This time the four emerged wearing Armani tailcoats and cummerbunds. Group members teasingly made much of Carlos Marín’s availability as the only bachelor among them, and he himself remarked repeatedly to that effect none too subtly. The open shirts, though, were a dead giveaway.
Musical standouts in an outstanding night included Andrew Lloyd Webber’s “Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina”, the frequently performed “Mama”, and the never-absent-from-any-concert-since-the-very-beginning “Every Time I Look at You”. Songs seemed equally divided among Spanish, Italian, and English; only one French number. Touching was the group’s performance of the Whitney Houston hit “I Will Always Love You”, sung in Italian.
Two songs, “Passerà” and “Nella fantasia”, held particular textual interest for their hopeful message of a better future. The former includes the intriguing phrase “passerà su di noi / finiremo tutti in banca prima o poi / coi perché, i chissà / e le angoscie di una ricca povertà” (It will pass away, we will end up at the bank sooner or later, with the whys, the perhapses, and the anguish of a rich poverty).
“Nella fantasia” (In My Fantasy) has a meaningful refrain that translates as: “I dream of souls who are ever free / like the floating clouds / deep down in the soul replete with humanity”. Its three verses translate as follows:
In my fantasy I see a just world.Do the members of Il Divo embody that hope for a just, free humanity? Hailing from four nations, France, Spain, Switzerland, and United States, they have surmounted linguistic and cultural barriers to a successful partnership and have flourished. Do they intend to set the example of how it can be done? How wonderful it would be if such an example were followed in no one’s fantasy, but in reality.
There, everyone lives in peace and honesty.
Refrain: I dream of souls …
In my fantasy I see a bright world.
There, even the night isn’t quite as dark.
Refrain: I dream of souls …
In my fantasy a warm wind exists
That gently blows on cities, like a friend.
Refrain: I dream of souls …
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