It is said that the first representation of Rossini’s “Il Barbiere di Siviglia” was a compilation of stage disasters: the singer playing Bartolo stumbled in the threshold of his house and fell breaking some teeth, a black cat crossed the stage and so on. I read this years ago and most probably my imagination has altered the anecdote; I know, I could google it and check it, but, remember, I’m quite lazy.
What does Rossini appear in this post? Because I remembered it last night, while watching my husband’s performance in a theatre in Rome. No black cats nor broken teeth involved, but there were some technical problems with the sounds and microphones. He took it very well, those are things that happen and he was so happy for being on that stage that most probably neither accidents nor animals would have erased the smile on his face. It was his first serious professional engagement since… practically always, even if he’s been a musician all his life.
Last night he finally could play two shows in a theatre, with a group of professional musicians and in front of a paying audience: not in a pub for the usual group of friends and relatives. He was absurdely happy, and I was also for him. Most of all when he was called by the singer to receive the audience’s applause and “bravos” with embarrasment.