I fell in love with Luciano Pavarotti in 1976. I fell in love with The Flaming Lips on Friday night.

Luciano Pavarotti (‘Looch’ as ​​I like to call him) came into my life as part of my studies. At the time, I was a singing student, a soprano, studying legitimate music. Through my hard work, it was inevitable that I would search for recordings of artists singing the same material. Coincidentally, it was around the same time that Looch hit it big: he was all over the world and making leaps and bounds with his fame.

Well, I fell so in love with him. Not so much because of his looks (although he had a beautiful manner), nor because of his singing (although it moves me to tears every time I hear his Paliacci or his version of Nessun Dorma). No, I really fell for it when I saw it on PBS, giving a master class at Juliard.

Oh. Me. God. He was so wonderful. This man not only knew what he was doing inside and out, but he lived it, he breathed it, he DEVOURED it. His joy in his music and his teachings was contagious, in a way that made me think of how I MUST be a master of the arts myself one day. Every time a student sang (no tricks, mind you) it was Juliard, Looch paid attention to them as if he was hearing this music for the first time in his life. In fact, he sometimes cried, he was so moved by the young students and their full expressions. After each student sang, he would offer that student a polite critique, a respite later here, a crescendo there, as he helped interpret the lyrics and the true meaning of the song. Well, every student would fly then, if his insight helped them go where they’d never been before. That show is forever etched in my memory. And although I have had amazing teachers in similar masterclasses, their presence is what I think about before every performance I do.

Nothing, however, will match the concert I saw him at in Dallas a few years later. My mother and I went and shared wonderful times that night. His last encore was Nessun Dorma. Although there were 20,000 people there, she only sang it to me. I cried, I couldn’t move from my seat. My mother sat patiently close to me as she pulled me together before finally leaving, long after Looch had left for her hotel I’m sure.

Mom and I still have a debate here and there about who was the BEST tenor of our time: Pavarotti or Placido Domingo? She pulls for Domingo, I for my endearing Looch. While Domingo is undoubtedly a skilled singer, to me Pavarotti always sang from his heart. Domingo has beautiful performances, but Looch always made me FEEL the song; literally, he would sometimes take my breath away from the sheer joy or torment expressed in his singing.

Unfortunately, Pavarotti left us last week to sing at the last commando performance. On the day of his death, my classical music station played his works all day. With every performance and interview I listened to, I couldn’t help but whisper to myself, “Oh, Looch…” Memories of his voice and his impression of me flooded my mind and once again I was transported to another place. and time.

One of the things Looch really believed in was the need for young artists and how the pop musician could change the world. Whenever he wanted to support a charity, he turned to pop singers, knowing they would reach a much larger audience than he could. If he had gone with me on Friday night to The Flaming Lips concert, he would have been beaming.

I had never heard of The Flaming Lips, let alone seen them in concert. However, my dear girlfriend asked me to go, so I went. She and I always have a great time together and I figured tonight she would be no exception.

God, it was hot in there. Held in the old Aragon Ballroom, just a block from Al Capone’s old speakeasy, the concert was packed with Flaming Lips fans from all over. The air conditioning was a joke, but never mind. People were there to see their band and no amount of heat and humidity would stop them.

These days, the Flaming Lips are known as much for their flamboyant showmanship as they are for their music. I could go on with its unique use of props, lights, sound, and balloons, but that’s not the point. What impressed me the most was the sincere interpretation of this band and how much they really loved what they were doing.

Like most artists of late, lead singer Wayne Coyne spoke out against the Bush administration and the war in Iraq. What struck me, however, was not hate or anger; rather, his emphasis was on the misuse of power and what the world would be like if we focused our energy elsewhere. He pushed love and happiness into the world and helped us see that there is another side, a tremendous side, to our own spirit and how we should manage our own lives, especially our own power.

I was deeply moved by his performance, and as I listened to the crowd sing “The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song,” I thought of Looch. I just imagined him sitting next to me, his eyes ablaze, loving the joy that permeated that room.

Thank you Flaming Lips…

and…

Goodbye, sweet Luciano.