As the season comes to an end, concert venues entered the final days and weeks of their performances. Among my favorite venues this year has been the Cemal Reşit Rey Concert Hall. The entire season at the CRR was packed with enticing programs, back to back, with up to 20 performances per month. Its stage hosted not only top artists, orchestras and soloists of classical music, but also featured jazz, blues, contemporary ballet, flamenco and more.
CRR was the last of the concert venues to finish off the season, and it hosted a name that caught us by pleasant surprise: the ‘80s Italian singer of worldwide fame, Toto Cutugno. The voice behind the international anthem “L’Italiano.” That’s right, the one that goes “Lasciatemi cantaaaare, con la chitarro in maaaaano, lasciatemi cantare, sono l’italiano.” Truth be told, before him, the song was popularized by the equally renowned Adriano Celentano of the 70’s. But ‘The Italian” of the ‘80s had certainly been Toto Cutugno.
The date of the concert coincides the date that violin virtuoso Itzhak Perlman is to take stage at another venue. It is not an easy decision. Visits of Perlman have become a regular; he comes every year at the exact same time. I have been blessed to see him last year and the year before. What’s more, both programs had a similar choice of repertoire and very similar encores—no less impressive and magical. Thus, I rationalize; rather than attend a similar performance for the third consecutive time, I should go for Toto Cutugno, which I feel will be a once-in-a-lifetime encounter. So, I cross my fingers, betray Perlman, and set sail for CRR.
Toto Cutugno must be seventy-something years old. Even back in the ’80s, he wasn’t a spring chicken; he was at least in his mid-30s. I had been worried that age might have gotten the better of him, but it turns out he‘s still kickin’ it! He hasn’t lost his voice at all. His long mane has been trimmed but still in cool style. The first song is drowned out by the drums and guitars. I think, “Oh lord, this is gonna be a long night. We came here to hear Cutugno, not a deafening projection of background instruments.” It turns out that I have been too quick to judge and that the initial calamity of noises is intentional. The volumes find their appropriate levels in the next song, and Toto Cutugno sings to the anticipating audience filling the entire auditorium. It is a crowd of all ages and profiles— from teenagers to grandparents, to young couples to groups of friends.
I have never followed Cutugno as a fan; I am only familiar with him as part of popular culture and through whatever song he had on that one album I had of his. But to my luck, he sings all the songs from my one CD back to back. “Soli”, “Amica, Donna Mia”, “Voglio L’Anima”, “Africa” and, of course, the international anthem “L’Italiano”, during which half the audience breaches the rule against taking videos with their cell phones. Myself included. I sing along, and am almost misty-eyed as all the memories conjured up in that single song are revived in me: Me at the age of five or six, watching Cutugno from a Betamax video on our wood-framed Sony TV my college semester in Rome; my best friend and I singing “L’Italiano” to ourselves in a square in Baltimore as friends roll their eyes; “L’Italiano” playing from the ‘90s boom box in my college apartment….
Cutugno adds to the delight of the already enthusiastic audience by paying asurprise homage the late Kayahan, one of the pillars of Turkish pop. He sings a Kayahan song, “Geceler.” I only get half of the lyrics through his pronunciation, but cheer on and applaud Cutugno for this courtesy he pays to the Turkish audience. The evening ends with an encore of “L’Italiano” and him on the piano playing “Africa.” We also learn that this piece is Cutugno’s first composition ever and a song that he has also sung it alongside Ray Charles. There is loud applause and much enthusiasm. Cutugno walks off and doesn’t come back for another encore. Nevertheless, we are satisfied. It has been one of the most memorable evenings of the season. And an evening that encompasses more than that evening alone, but spans across my entire life from age four to college and to the present, with the new memories and impressions made. Viva L’Italiano!
