Orchestra-pit-shaking vibratos, deity-kissed vocal cords, hearts touched via the vagus nerve: the tributes upon his death for a colossus of a man who’d flung open the doors to the arcane realm of classical music weren’t exactly devoid of poetic flounce and furbelow. The soprano Katia Ricciarelli referred to his “voice of platinum”; erstwhile rival Plácido Domingo spoke of “his divine voice, with its unmistakable timbre and complete vocal range”; the late American conductor and pianist James Levine described a knack for “delivery so natural and direct that his singing spoke right to the hearts of listeners whether they knew anything about opera or not”.
He made a pact: should God spare him, he declared to himself, “I will enjoy life. I will enjoy everything.”
Tellingly, though, the eulogies illuminated the man as much as they did the mighty talent that had made him the most famous classical singer in history. The European Commission president José Manuel Barroso referred to “his geniality and social commitment”; Bono, one of a plethora of popular music collaborators,
