Luciano Pavarotti :: Nessun Dorma
When I signed on as a contributor for this project, my ostensibly noble mission was to avoid penning any melodramatic, self-indulgent descriptions of why and how any particular song ended up as one of my personal favorites. I was determined to prevent my prosaic, subjective exposition from potentially obfuscating the broader, and possibly more important, meaning and social context of a tune (not that these two dimensions of interpretation are mutually exclusive). At the same time, from the very start of my involvement in this blog, I secretly conspired to betray my own directive; eventually, I would write an inordinately emotional piece about how Nessun Dorma, absolutely destroys me.
Sure, at first I dreamt of a way to integrate my private world with the song’s public legacy. I told myself that I could locate this song within its historic and artistic context, compose a textual exegesis, and would then use it as a worthy platform for qualifying why the song, and this particular performance of it, just splits me in half, right down the center of my metaphoric body. First performed in 1926, critics have called Giacomo Puccini’s Turandot a great many things, ranging from brutally heartbreaking to utterly misogynistic and Eurocentric. If you don’t have a chance to listen to and understand the whole of Turandot, here is the New York Metropolitan Opera’s concise synopsis.
I’m going to purposefully evade the task of intellectualizing the song and simply say that the combination of Pavarotti’s voice and the lyrics (out of the context of the story) descend on you like the still air of that monumental moment when you first realized that you would surrender all your possessions and time to the one you love. In my humble opinion, this piece is above all else pure sonic passion. It is the sound of your cauldron boiling and your belly burning. It is an eruption of desperation and hope that shatters the strictures of reason and critical consciousness. It is the encapsulation of the singular moment you realized that you were, in fact, alive, unashamed, and doomed to love someone despite anyone’s better judgment; it was on her/his mouth that you could find, for however brief, your true name:
Nessun dorma! Nessun dorma!
Tu pure, o, Principessa,
nella tua fredda stanza,
guardi le stelle
che fremono d’amore
e di speranza.
Ma il mio mistero e chiuso in me,
il nome mio nessun sapra!
No, no, sulla tua bocca lo diro
quando la luce splendera!
Ed il mio bacio sciogliera il silenzio
che ti fa mia!
(Il nome suo nessun sapra!
e noi dovrem, ahime, morir!)
Dilegua, o notte!
Tramontate, stelle!
Tramontate, stelle!
All’alba vincero!
vincero, vincero!
I should also note that this entry comes with a heaping portion of irony: people stop me in the street to tell me that I am the spitting image of Luciano Pavarotti. I used to protest vehemently, declaring that the man has got at least 150 pounds on me and that I’m a hell of a lot better looking. Of late, I’ve changed my tune and actually don’t mind bearing the resemblance. Pavarotti, despite being somewhat of a flake and a letch, was an opera god whose artistic efforts challenged the elitist boundaries that formerly kept opera under snobby lock and key. Here’s the proof.
And let’s not equivocate, Pavarotti can really fucking sing. My recommendation is that you close your eyes and play this track as loudly as you can. Suspend your preconceived notions of what Opera might be. Forget pop music for just a couple of minutes. Let the song pull from you the amorous force of your design. Answer the song when it asks you whether anything on this earth could possibly stop you from adoring and serving the people that you love. Let it allow you to suddenly realize that everything that might be good in our lives and in this world extends from those uncertain moments during which we dared to love one another far beyond the best of our ability. I also suggest that you listen to this song while reading its lyrics unless, of course, your Italian is fluent and you don’t need a translation. In case you do, here’s a rough conversion:
No one sleeps, no one sleeps…
Even you, o Princess,
In your cold room,
Watch the stars,
That tremble with love
And with hope.
But my secret is hidden within me;
My name no one shall know, no, no,
On your mouth I will speak it.
When the light shines,
And my kiss will dissolve the silence
That makes you mine.
No one will know his name
And we must, alas, die.
Vanish, o night!
Settle, stars! Settle, stars!
At dawn, I will conquer! I will conquer! I will conquer!
Nessun Dorma (4.1MB MP3)
Luciano Pavarotti (homepage)
kelly said on monday, july 14th, 2008
johnny said on wednesday, july 16th, 2008
you do look like pavarotti. but for some reason, i kept thinking dom delouise. no disrespect, just the wrong name, beautiful song.
claire said on sunday, july 20th, 2008
me and my mom love to get all teary while listening to opera. i am always depressed that i missed pavarotti performing live.
nice. I had to look up exegesis in the dictionary though.