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IL Volo at Foxwoods ~ Concert Review

IL Volo brought their Notte Magica Tour 2017 to Foxwoods Resort Casino at the Mashantucket Pequot Tribal Reservation in Connecticut on March 11, 2017. Piero Barone, Ignazio Boschetto, and Gianluca Ginoble sang in the “bel canto” style raising spirits and hearts under an icy full March moon. Maestro Joseph Modica conducted a 45-piece orchestra in a two-hour musical Italian extravaganza! The sumptuous cardinal red curtains rose to a full house of admirers in the Grand Theater. The audience looked at them at first with attention and then affection in a terrific performance.

The show opened with the overture to Giuseppe Verdi’s “La Forza del Destino” setting the tone for a classical, operatic performance in homage to The Three Tenors. IL Volo received the blessings from the original tenors to continue their goal of bringing beautiful music to everyday people. The magical night was infectious. A patron in the next seat from Saratoga NY had never seen or heard the trio. She came with a friend to get out of town for the weekend. The enchantment of IL Volo swept her up on her feet for every ovation from the crowd.

The play list for this performance is on the CD “IL Volo with Placido Domingo, A Tribute to the Three Tenors”, published September 2016 by Sony Classical Records. The concert with Placido Domingo was recorded live in Florence. Unfortunately, a CD can never capture the charisma of the artists. In person, the trio have a relaxed and confident presentation. Even their walk is light and casually elegant. The song and the music flow together flawlessly. Maestro Modica notably held back the orchestra to allow the singer to give it all to the moment. The ensemble music of IL Volo has the power to heal old hurts, raise joyful energy and excite the libido. These guys are young, handsome men, gorgeously decked out in the finest Italian suits.

A highlight of the show is “Grande Amore”. They won the prestigious Sanremo Music Festival in 2015 with this song. IL Volo bring their energy up and sing with great pride. This is their song, they love it and the intensity is breathtaking. Other crowd favorites are the Italian lament, “Caruso”, the sweet Spanish song, “Cielito Lindo” and, the finale, from La Traviata, “Libiamo ne’ lieti calici“.

A tip of the hat to Ginoble for his solo of Rossini’s “La Danza”. He deftly kept pace with the rhythmic lively song based on the traditional southern Italian tarantella. Ginoble is known for his suave, smoky crooning baritone. This tempo is a challenge and this night, he was splendid.

The best way to appreciate Boschetto’s solo performances are to close the eyes and let his voice surround the body. He sings the aria, “Una Furtiva Lagrima”, from Donizetti’s “L’Elisir d’Amore”. Boschetto captures the sensual awakening of Nemorino to the wonders of affection returned. His tenor is expressive and emotional. He sings with crisp diction and round, tall vowels. Boschetto’s voice finds it’s way into the tender places inside the listener. However, he goes from serious to flamboyant easily. In a jocular voice, a patron said, “that guy, the tall guy, my nonna woulda called him diavoletto. I mean you could see the little horns coming out from under his hair. Cheeky flirt.” Boschetto has a strong presence on stage and as the show rolls on, builds more and more power into his voice.

In Chinese Astrology, this is the Year of the Rooster. Barone was born into this sign and on stage displays the confident fire of this bird. Gone are his trademark red glasses and crucifix. While exiting the venue, a patron with a lilt in his voice said, “impressive, impressive, he’s just standing there all easy and it comes out like that. It doesn’t look like he’s trying but the voice just wraps around me. I got chills. You know he works hard at that, but I don’t see the effort!” Barone is most appreciated in a live performance. He’s developed his sumptuous tenor filling it with warmth and with every note says, I-Love-to-Sing-to-You. His Twitter profile conveys an acknowledgement of his gifts and what comes with that. “Music is made of all the passions of the world, the good singer chooses one of those and lives it again like nobody else.” Barone’s voice can touch the ear with the lightness of a feather and swiftly create a sensation of being lifted off the feet by the near brilliance of his tenor.

Orchestra Musicians Kevin Cruder Cello and Dana Ianculovici Violin

IL Volo are on tour in North America until early April. A full schedule is on their website, IL Volo Music. In late April, the European leg of Notte Magica begins. They have a busy year ahead with announced plans to travel to Japan and Australia in November. Barone said they have a hope soon to perform their “Ave Maria, Mater Misericordiae” for Pope Francis.

Written by Frances Ann Wychorski, March 13, 2017

Update: March 16, 2017

Viewers may read this article in Italian by clicking on this link. Many thanks to the IL Volo Italian Fan Club for providing the translation. Vi ringrazio molto!

Wood Sprite

I twinkle in the twilight by this bend in the river. My name is Adelphi and I was born in the roots of this great old copper beech tree. When I say the magic words, a door appears in the wood. The squirrel hollowed out my little den filling it with thistle-down and moss for my bed. The best thing in the world is to rest in beech while she sways to the rhythm coming up through the soil. The sensation of swirling is always present. She is forever talking to the sky and loves brother sun. The tug of the moon eddy is best of all.

I live in a cove where the river turns in the shy shallow end. The water is calm here. In the warm afternoons, the water striders skate over the surface. Sometimes they let me ride on their backs and we go sliding along. The raccoon always stops here to wash before going to bed for the day. Last night, he got into a nest and had egg all between his toes. A mama bird is very sad now.

The forest always sings, night and day. The chirp of crickets, peep of birds and bustle of bees plays for me. The patter of deer hooves, foxes gentle tread and rabbits silent pass fill my heart with love. What do I do all day? I listen. The water writes new music every moment. It’s always in tune with the great spirit of the forest. Sometimes, I hop a ride on a branch flowing by. We ride the current all the way to the big rock that sits in the middle. I get a ride back from the dragonflies to my beech tree.

There is a water nymph named Xinx under the river bed. I am here to serve her. I’ve never seen her in the daylight. Splash, splash, splash, she wades out every night to tramp into the forest on her midnight rendezvous. The owl knows who she meets but he won’t talk, he just sits up there blinking at me and Hoots! Splash, splash, splash back she comes just before the first wood thrush calls in the dawn. She moves in the mists over the mossy stones. So many stories are here in the river.

Published in the Spencer New Leader, Spencer MA June 30, 2017

Ginger and Me

How strange they are, all green and kaleidoscope colors in the cold twilight. Flash, flash, cascading across the sky. Even Ginger stopped and watched the northern lights. After a few minutes, she snorted and signed almost saying, let’s go home now, let’s go in.

It’d been a long day and when we got to the barn, I was so stiff I couldn’t move, couldn’t swing my leg over the saddle without feeling like I was going to fall down if I touched the ground. I’d been riding since sun up, moving the cattle up to station C. C is for Cavendish but that’s a story for another day.

Ginger is a Mexican horse. She’s almost as old as I am now and loves to roam outside pushing cattle. She’s got a copper chestnut coat with a white sock on her left hind. She stands tall with straight legs and a round barrel. Her face has white flakes all over it that give her a look of being freckled. The first time I saw her was at the spring cookout and hoe down. She was probably three years old and playing in the trough. The water was splashing up and over everything as she pawed it with her front hoof. She raised her head and looked to the sky soaking herself good. Thump, thump, thump, splash! I liked everything about her and when I offered a peppermint over the fence rail, she came right to me. I ruffled her shaggy mane and offered $50 for her.

I brought her back to the ranch where Rusty and me trained her to herd cattle. Ginger has smooth gaits and moves lightly over the ground. She tucks her nose in and moves like a fancy dancy horse. We don’t canter too much. Life on the ranch is mostly about listening to crickets chirp in the grass. When we do, it’s so sweet to feel her take off. When I get the cue just right, it’s like lifting her up and bouncing into the canter. She shifts her weight back and with a big shhhhhhhhhwiiiiiiiishhhhhhhhhhh of her tail, off we rock. She rolls, rolls, rolls along the trail. I love Ginger.

Anyway, spring is trying to arrive early here in Montana. The cattle started shedding out already and get restless easy. It’s after lunch now and Ginger and me were nosing the herd down the north slope when it started to snow. The wind had been turning from the northwest all day. My belly was still warm from the split pea soup and I was dozing in the saddle. Ginger walks so nice and light, she kinda rocked me into a trance. The mooing cows and quiet clouds made it feel like siesta time. Ginger “tripped’ on a stone and woke me up just as I was about to slide off.

We looked at the clouds and I swear one was shaped like a big angel. The wind was singing in the prairie grass ruffling Ginger’s mane. She snorted and trotted on. The flakes started falling fast. I heard a big rumble overhead and saw another big cloud roll in. We shivered a little and caught up with the herd.

The big flakes of snow fell on the cows. I watched all the designs form on their black coats. How can each one be different? How can that be? A rhythmic sound started up from all around us. Ginger pranced a bit and turned around looking for something then she looked up at the clouds. I guess it’s true, the angels really do dust heaven out and we were here to see it. Oh wow! They must have gone back to creation cause the mother of all snowflakes fell on the back of cow tagged number 360. I pulled out my rope and measured the flake. Fifteen inches across. I called john Henry and said, hey look at this! John Henry called Caspar over and we all stared at the thing. Wow, the biggest snowflake ever in Montana is on the backside of a cow.

100 miles from nowhere near Fort Keough MT 1887