I pointed excitedly to a set of music as we read through the Samuel Ramey program. I turned to the girl sitting to my right to explain that I was singing the same cycle of songs to which she simply nodded. The lights dimmed until all we could see was the sponsor’s name illuminated on the back wall and the usual announcer told us to silence things. With baited breath I watched as the tall, chiseled singer stalked onto the stage. In a remarkable black flat-fronted suit, he strode through the wall of applause to the piano where he took a gracious bow.
After the applause had subsided somewhat, he took a breath and began the first song in his program which consisted mostly of songs sung by Devils and Evil Things in operas. Afterall, he is a bass. If you’re a bass you get cast as the Devil. It’s just your lot in life.
His voice, even as low as it was, simply soared over the seats and into the balcony where I was sitting. The excitement felt at seeing this world class performer – my favorite male singer since I can remember – is indescribable. The words, the characterisation
and his uncanny ability to play the crowd was all so wonderful! Though he has long since gone gray, he still has a hodl on the Devil market and a hold on the imagination of every person in the audience. If only I could find such success when I am that old.
“Will you still need me, will you still feed me when I’m sixty-four!”