6 September 2007 (Modena, Italy)
It is with enormous sadness that the following statement is released by Terri Robson, manager of legendary Italian tenor, Luciano Pavarotti:
The great tenor, Luciano Pavarotti, died today at 5.00am at his home in Modena, the city of his birth.
At his side were his wife, Nicoletta; his daughters, Lorenza, Cristina, Giuliana and Alice; his sister, Gabriela; his nephews and close relatives and friends.
The Maestro fought a long, tough battle against the pancreatic cancer which eventually took his life. In fitting with the approach that characterised his life and work, he remained positive until finally succumbing to the last stages of his illness.
His last public performance, singing Nessun Dorma, was at the opening ceremony of the Winter Olympics in Turin, Italy, in February 2006 and his last full-scale concert was in Taipei in December 2005. In the months preceding this, he had given Worldwide Farewell Concerts in Central and South America, the USA, Spain, France, Greece, Cyprus, Croatia, Japan, China, Russia, the Czech Republic, South Africa, Australia and New Zealand.
Two years ago, he launched a vocal academy for talented young singers in Modena where he taught a personally hand picked group of students. Up until a few weeks before his death, he committed several hours each day to teaching his pupils at his summer villa in Pesaro on Italy’s Adriatic Coast. He was also planning to complete a recording of sacred songs and unveil the next phase of the Pavarotti International Voice Competition.
Earlier this week, he was honoured by the Italian Government with the ‘Premio per l'Esccellenza nella Cultura Italiana’ (for outstanding contribution to Italian culture). La Scala Milan and Modena’s Teatro Communale also announced a joint Luciano Pavarotti Award. On learning of the tributes, he said, “the recognition gives me the opportunity to continue to celebrate the magic of a life dedicated to the arts and it fills me with pride and joy to have been able to promote my magnificent country abroad. I always strive to share with youth the passion of opera and applaud La Scala for setting up a scheme which presents young people with the opportunity to take their talents to that unparalleled opera stage”.
Throughout his illness, he was supported by the devotion and love of his wife, Nicoletta, and their four-year old daughter, Alice, alongside his three daughters from his first marriage, Lorenza, Cristina and Giuliana and a large number of relatives, loyal friends and colleagues. He remained optimistic and confident that he would overcome the disease and had been determined to return to the stage to complete his Worldwide Farewell Tour, which he was halfway through before being struck down by illness in New York in July 2006.
At his side were his wife, Nicoletta; his daughters, Lorenza, Cristina, Giuliana and Alice; his sister, Gabriela; his nephews and close relatives and friends.
The Maestro fought a long, tough battle against the pancreatic cancer which eventually took his life. In fitting with the approach that characterised his life and work, he remained positive until finally succumbing to the last stages of his illness.
His last public performance, singing Nessun Dorma, was at the opening ceremony of the Winter Olympics in Turin, Italy, in February 2006 and his last full-scale concert was in Taipei in December 2005. In the months preceding this, he had given Worldwide Farewell Concerts in Central and South America, the USA, Spain, France, Greece, Cyprus, Croatia, Japan, China, Russia, the Czech Republic, South Africa, Australia and New Zealand.
Two years ago, he launched a vocal academy for talented young singers in Modena where he taught a personally hand picked group of students. Up until a few weeks before his death, he committed several hours each day to teaching his pupils at his summer villa in Pesaro on Italy’s Adriatic Coast. He was also planning to complete a recording of sacred songs and unveil the next phase of the Pavarotti International Voice Competition.
Earlier this week, he was honoured by the Italian Government with the ‘Premio per l'Esccellenza nella Cultura Italiana’ (for outstanding contribution to Italian culture). La Scala Milan and Modena’s Teatro Communale also announced a joint Luciano Pavarotti Award. On learning of the tributes, he said, “the recognition gives me the opportunity to continue to celebrate the magic of a life dedicated to the arts and it fills me with pride and joy to have been able to promote my magnificent country abroad. I always strive to share with youth the passion of opera and applaud La Scala for setting up a scheme which presents young people with the opportunity to take their talents to that unparalleled opera stage”.
Throughout his illness, he was supported by the devotion and love of his wife, Nicoletta, and their four-year old daughter, Alice, alongside his three daughters from his first marriage, Lorenza, Cristina and Giuliana and a large number of relatives, loyal friends and colleagues. He remained optimistic and confident that he would overcome the disease and had been determined to return to the stage to complete his Worldwide Farewell Tour, which he was halfway through before being struck down by illness in New York in July 2006.
"I think a life in music is a life beautifully spent and this is what I have devoted my life to".
Luciano Pavarotti (12 October 1935 – 6 September 2007)
Dame Joan Sutherland
“Both Richard and I were greatly saddened to learn of Luciano's death after his strong efforts to survive his illness.
We remember what great performances we enjoyed together as well as our friendship of over forty years. These things will never be forgotten.”.
We remember what great performances we enjoyed together as well as our friendship of over forty years. These things will never be forgotten.”.
Sting
“We lost a great friend, a great voice and the world is a smaller place without the big man”.
Juan Diego Flórez
“The death of Luciano Pavarotti has filled me with deep sadnesss. I received the news from his assistant, my compatriot, Edwin Tinoco, a few minutes after it happened. We last saw each other on July 31st, at his house in Peasaro. It was the last time he got out of bed to have dinner with his guests. In spite of the suffering caused by his illness, he did his utmost to chat kindly with us, although he barely ate himself. We had asked Edwin what gift we could take to him, and he told us: "he loves lemon cremolata and strawberries". A few days later Pavarotti returned to Modena to go into hospital. I called him and he said to please come visit him again with my wife, who had made a big impression on him. I told him we would, but unfortunately the Maestro left us sooner than we thought.
Luciano Pavarotti has always been my idol and when in a way he singled me out as his successor, I received the news with surprise, joy, and pride, but with a great sense of responsibility as well. Which today is even greater, and I hope that I can rise to it.
I first got to know him in the summer of 2002 at his house in Pesaro. It was an unforgettable day for me. While we were talking, my agent, Ernesto Palacio, whispered to me: "Why don't you sing something for him?" The Maestro noticed and said: "Would you like to sing something?" So without even warming up my voice I sang the aria with the 9 high Cc from La Fille du régiment.
Once he phoned to tell me that he had chosen me to sing at a tribute to him during his last opera performances at the Met in 2004. He told me: "I told them that I only want Juan Diego Florez to sing for me". I was bursting with pride, and naturally I sang for him in that celebration in New York.
The most beautiful voice of the 20th century has left us, an endearing artist, even though he was always acknowledged as a giant in the opera world. And for those of us who knew him personally and treasured his spontaneity, his honesty, his simple but wise way of looking at things, his kindness, generosity and helpfulness, his absence will be very hard to fill.”
Luciano Pavarotti has always been my idol and when in a way he singled me out as his successor, I received the news with surprise, joy, and pride, but with a great sense of responsibility as well. Which today is even greater, and I hope that I can rise to it.
I first got to know him in the summer of 2002 at his house in Pesaro. It was an unforgettable day for me. While we were talking, my agent, Ernesto Palacio, whispered to me: "Why don't you sing something for him?" The Maestro noticed and said: "Would you like to sing something?" So without even warming up my voice I sang the aria with the 9 high Cc from La Fille du régiment.
Once he phoned to tell me that he had chosen me to sing at a tribute to him during his last opera performances at the Met in 2004. He told me: "I told them that I only want Juan Diego Florez to sing for me". I was bursting with pride, and naturally I sang for him in that celebration in New York.
The most beautiful voice of the 20th century has left us, an endearing artist, even though he was always acknowledged as a giant in the opera world. And for those of us who knew him personally and treasured his spontaneity, his honesty, his simple but wise way of looking at things, his kindness, generosity and helpfulness, his absence will be very hard to fill.”
Bono
“Some can sing opera, Luciano Pavarotti was an opera.
No one could inhabit those acrobatic melodies and words like him. He lived the songs, his opera was a great mash of joy and sadness; surreal and earthy at the same time; a great volcano of a man who sang fire but spilled over with a love of life in all its complexity, a great and generous friend.
Great, great fun, The Pavlova we used to call him. An emotional arm twister if he wanted you to do something for him he was impossible to turn down. A great flatterer.
When he wanted U2 to write him a song he rang our housekeeper, Theresa, continually so we talked about little else in our house.
When he wanted U2 to play his festival in Modena, he turned up in Dublin unannounced with a film crew, and door-stopped the band. His life and talent was large but his sense of service to the weak and vulnerable was larger.
We wrote Miss Sarajevo for him. He had worked on the humanitarian crisis that was the war in Bosnia. We travelled together on a UN air force flight to Mostar... all of us earnest in hard hats, just about strapped into this industrial aircraft with the big man handing out parmigiano from Reggio Emilia, “the best cheese in the world" he kept saying… deadpan… to make us laugh.
In Pesaro, in his summer house, he lived an almost bohemian life with a recording studio set up in an out house - but did all his vocals in his bedroom... there was a hammock hung between two marine pines for a siesta. He liked to eat, sleep and then warm up his vocals though I remember more eating than warming up. When we first recorded with him I left a stone heavier than I arrived.
Intellectually curious, couldn’t stick to his own generation - loved new ideas, new people, new song forms.
A sexy man whose life lit up again when he fell in love with Nicoletta and as he watched Alice play in the yard. He loved all his daughters so much.
The sadness of losing his only boy his only silence.
I spoke to him last week... the voice that was louder than any rock band was a whisper. Still he communicated his love. Full of love.
That's what people don't understand about Luciano Pavarotti. Even when the voice was dimmed in power, his interpretive skills left him a giant among a few tall men.”
No one could inhabit those acrobatic melodies and words like him. He lived the songs, his opera was a great mash of joy and sadness; surreal and earthy at the same time; a great volcano of a man who sang fire but spilled over with a love of life in all its complexity, a great and generous friend.
Great, great fun, The Pavlova we used to call him. An emotional arm twister if he wanted you to do something for him he was impossible to turn down. A great flatterer.
When he wanted U2 to write him a song he rang our housekeeper, Theresa, continually so we talked about little else in our house.
When he wanted U2 to play his festival in Modena, he turned up in Dublin unannounced with a film crew, and door-stopped the band. His life and talent was large but his sense of service to the weak and vulnerable was larger.
We wrote Miss Sarajevo for him. He had worked on the humanitarian crisis that was the war in Bosnia. We travelled together on a UN air force flight to Mostar... all of us earnest in hard hats, just about strapped into this industrial aircraft with the big man handing out parmigiano from Reggio Emilia, “the best cheese in the world" he kept saying… deadpan… to make us laugh.
In Pesaro, in his summer house, he lived an almost bohemian life with a recording studio set up in an out house - but did all his vocals in his bedroom... there was a hammock hung between two marine pines for a siesta. He liked to eat, sleep and then warm up his vocals though I remember more eating than warming up. When we first recorded with him I left a stone heavier than I arrived.
Intellectually curious, couldn’t stick to his own generation - loved new ideas, new people, new song forms.
A sexy man whose life lit up again when he fell in love with Nicoletta and as he watched Alice play in the yard. He loved all his daughters so much.
The sadness of losing his only boy his only silence.
I spoke to him last week... the voice that was louder than any rock band was a whisper. Still he communicated his love. Full of love.
That's what people don't understand about Luciano Pavarotti. Even when the voice was dimmed in power, his interpretive skills left him a giant among a few tall men.”
Andrea Bocelli
“Thank you Maestro Pavarotti.
Your jovial image and your ready smile is always there in my mind and my soul. Your unmistakable voice, pure as crystal, encourages us all at this time, as we find ourselves facing the mystery of separation, the moment of passing away.
The pain in my heart is only eased by the thought that your art will always remain with us, will continue to accompany us on our journeys, at home, in our everyday lives.
I would love to speak to the dear Maestro in person and say thank you for your enormous contribution to the world of opera, thank you for having been such a wonderful ambassador for our country over the years. Thank you for showing me the way, for introducing me to opera singing and for your esteem – which I always reciprocated - and which has always been a source of pride for me.
Thank you Maestro for all your precious and dispassionate advice and for constantly inspiring me to do better.
Thank you for making opera into an art form which is available to everyone: all those people who you took by the hand and guided lovingly into the wonderful world of opera and of those great songs which rose to the rank of timeless classics. You will not only be in our hearts for ever, you will be there in our daily lives, still accompanying us as we go about our work and our lives, you will remain a source of inspiration and support in our professional endeavours. Thank you for existing now more than ever as a guarantee of that world of hope and faith which your generous voice will help to make even more beautiful, thank you for spreading your great arms, for singing with us and making us that gift again of your spontaneous and radiant smile. “
Your jovial image and your ready smile is always there in my mind and my soul. Your unmistakable voice, pure as crystal, encourages us all at this time, as we find ourselves facing the mystery of separation, the moment of passing away.
The pain in my heart is only eased by the thought that your art will always remain with us, will continue to accompany us on our journeys, at home, in our everyday lives.
I would love to speak to the dear Maestro in person and say thank you for your enormous contribution to the world of opera, thank you for having been such a wonderful ambassador for our country over the years. Thank you for showing me the way, for introducing me to opera singing and for your esteem – which I always reciprocated - and which has always been a source of pride for me.
Thank you Maestro for all your precious and dispassionate advice and for constantly inspiring me to do better.
Thank you for making opera into an art form which is available to everyone: all those people who you took by the hand and guided lovingly into the wonderful world of opera and of those great songs which rose to the rank of timeless classics. You will not only be in our hearts for ever, you will be there in our daily lives, still accompanying us as we go about our work and our lives, you will remain a source of inspiration and support in our professional endeavours. Thank you for existing now more than ever as a guarantee of that world of hope and faith which your generous voice will help to make even more beautiful, thank you for spreading your great arms, for singing with us and making us that gift again of your spontaneous and radiant smile. “
Russell Watson
"I remember the night very clearly, it is a story I have told many times.... Picture the scene - a smokey back street workings man's club in the heart of Wigan on a cold, dark and rainy winters evening. It was to change my life forever.
I'd just done my first 45 minute stint of the night when a chap by the name of Stan approached me "hello Russell" he said "have you ever tried any of that Pavarotti stuff, cos I reckon that Nestun Dormay (Nessun Dorma) would suit your voice right down to the ground" I went away and learnt the Aria parrot fashion, over and over again listening to Luciano's pronunciation and delivery... My first ever standing ovation followed... The rest I history and I am sure I am one of many who have been influenced by the greatest tenor ever! The icing on the cake for me was a performance at Hyde Park, London with Luciano in the summer of 2001. It is a day I will treasure forever.
It is a testament to 'the man himself' that everyone refers to Puccini’s classic as Pavarotti's Nessun Dorma. All I know is we have lost a legend and probably the best vocal talent the world has ever heard. He inspired me to follow a path that no one thought possible.
My deepest sympathy and thoughts are with Luciano's family and friends at such a difficult time.”
I'd just done my first 45 minute stint of the night when a chap by the name of Stan approached me "hello Russell" he said "have you ever tried any of that Pavarotti stuff, cos I reckon that Nestun Dormay (Nessun Dorma) would suit your voice right down to the ground" I went away and learnt the Aria parrot fashion, over and over again listening to Luciano's pronunciation and delivery... My first ever standing ovation followed... The rest I history and I am sure I am one of many who have been influenced by the greatest tenor ever! The icing on the cake for me was a performance at Hyde Park, London with Luciano in the summer of 2001. It is a day I will treasure forever.
It is a testament to 'the man himself' that everyone refers to Puccini’s classic as Pavarotti's Nessun Dorma. All I know is we have lost a legend and probably the best vocal talent the world has ever heard. He inspired me to follow a path that no one thought possible.
My deepest sympathy and thoughts are with Luciano's family and friends at such a difficult time.”
