It seems that the staff at the Cemil Topuzlu Open-Air Amphitheater had me in mind when scheduling this month’s program. It feels as if they are going name by name down my “Performances to See Sometime in My Life” list. The month of August started off with Emma Shaplin, an artist to whom I was introduced in the late 1990s and who had always been someone I wanted to see live someday. There is 2 Cellos, a pair of Croatian guys whose cool interpretation of Michael Jackson’s “Smooth Criminal” I discovered on YouTube last year. They have been on my mind for some time, and are now due to perform at Cemil Topuzlu on Sunday 31 August.
And, for some time now, a name has been catching my eye at music stores throughout Istanbul: Monica Molina. Whenever I visit a certain music store chain, it seems that they have a special corner set up specially for her. I’ve never purchased one of the CDs or DVDs on display, but I did make a mental note to check out her music one day. So, it was the most pleasant of surprises to come across her name in the Biletix schedule of the Cemil Topuzlu Open-Air Amphitheater. And, on Wednesday 6 August, I found myself seated among her fans and admirers in the amphitheater, in high anticipation for what the evening was to bring.
The stage was simple but promising, with a grand piano, a drum set, and two guitars – one classic, and one electronic bass. Molina elegantly stepped on stage, dressed in silky translucent drapes that billowed in the breeze, wearing shoes with transparent heels and delicate, crystal bands atop of a delicate tulle, and projecting a serene and down-to-earth aura. She felt like something out a storybook, a princess going out for a stroll on a calm Mediterranean evening with a bright moon, and a single shiny star overhead in the clear skies.
‘Pleasant’ is the word that comes to mind when thinking of Molina and her songs. There were no vocal feats testing the limits of the human voice — as in opera or screaming rock vocals — but rather she produced a steady, ongoing stream of pleasantness. A soothing, smooth voice that was both beautiful and serene, and smoky and moving at the same time. And, a voice that she could catapult to flamenco vigor and richness when she deemed it necessary. The sound system was also at its optimal setting. The piano, drums, and guitars provided good back up, but did not overtake the voice of Molina. She sang in Spanish, which I unfortunately do not speak, but I could tell through her voice that the songs spoke of love, gentleness, care, and all things pleasant. If she sang of a broken heart, she did not sing about it with feelings of angst or despise, but in affection, gentle sorrow, or consolation. She sang in perfect pitch, never missed a note, and neither rushed nor slowed down the songs.
“Ah Amores” was the highlight of the evening. A beautiful song from her 1989 album, she sang it in a low, smoky voice that could move mountains and had the power to captivate the soul. Upon hearing it, I realized it was, in fact, very familiar — “Ah Amores” is a song that I have known and loved for years. So, despite my previously self-declared lack of expertise in Molina, our paths had crossed before. “Puqueno Fado” was another masterpiece, a song that reflected the serenity that runs through all of her songs, as well as the pleasantness of their spirit and rhythm, and the smokiness, gentleness, and richness of Molina’s voice.
The evening ended in a well-deserved standing ovation, and Molina did a curtsy and gently glided off the stage in her crystal heels and breezy drapes. We bid her good-bye, while also thanking the clear skies, gentle breeze, and lucid moon for such a pleasant evening.
