The scene is grotesque, uncomfortable. A dozen prostitutes who barely seem to be able to stand begin to convulse, making fellatio gestures. His increasingly frenetic spasms steal the spotlight from the Duke of Mantua, played by Xabier Anduaga (San Sebastián, 28 years old), who sings one of the most famous arias in the history of opera while standing on a table: The donna e mobile. “I've done it 300 times and I don't get used to it, nor am I going to get used to it,” says the tenor already in his dressing room, days after his debut with Rigoletto at the Royal Theater. At his age he has already sung at the Metropolitan Opera in New York and now, his premiere with Verdi is the perfect excuse for those who are eager to discover the new promise of opera. And this tenor's career promises.
He Rigoletto starring Anduaga has been controversial. The proposal of Miguel del Arco, in charge of stage direction, was booed at the premiere by a part of the audience and the scene to which the tenor himself confesses that he is not used to is somewhat to blame. “On top of that, it is the aria that everyone knows, the music that is played for a pizza commercial. The whole audience says: 'Oh, he's coming' and suddenly that movement begins… A very strange tension is created.” The proposal achieves what it seeks: that the public feels uncomfortable because it stops romanticizing a sexist aria in which a sexual predator sings that women should not be trusted because they change their words and thoughts.
The tenor has not experienced those boos, but he has felt tension and takes the opportunity to send a message to the spectators: “It is important for the public to realize, when they do not like a scene, that the singer has not decided to do that, because the atmosphere created with that discomfort affects the person who is singing. There are moments to criticize and when the music is in the air you have to enjoy it.” Of course, he is less understanding of those who are upset by the nudity that appears on stage. “That you think it's ridiculous to boo a nude, that's because you've rarely been to the opera,” he says.
Anduaga grew up in a musical family. He says that he does not remember a Sunday cleaning at home when the Three Tenors record was not playing. Her older sister participated in the church choir in her neighborhood and he was somewhat envious. Little Anduaga had a good ear and enjoyed singing a duet with her about anything: “From the advertisements to the SingStar. My sister beat me, she sings better than me.” He also ended up being enrolled in the choir and at the age of eight he joined the Orfeón Donostiarra. He also played soccer, but had to make a decision when rehearsals began to overlap with training. He was sad to leave football, but he was not going to stop singing. If it had not been for the choral culture of San Sebastián, would he have been an opera singer? “Probably not. I don't know, maybe he would have been in another choir, but when I was 14 I sang with Riccardo Chailly, Simon Rattle… I wasn't even aware of it. I did think: 'Ugh, how does this sound!' Now I see it from the outside and I think, 'My mother, how unconscious and how happy,' he answers. A good first contact for someone who would end up making music his profession.
At the age of 16, he began training at the conservatory and, after graduating, he enrolled in Law, Marketing and Business courses to study “something useful.” He never attended a single class. His career was singing. And the first impulse came: to meet Alberto Zedda and enter the Rossiniana Academy of Pesaro. Although it was also an intense experience for a performer trained in the community of a choir. “I had never had contact with the world of opera and competition. I didn't know what that was and from day one it was hard. People are not going to learn alone, they know it is a leap. I suffered it as best I could and also learned everything I could. “I remember it with great enthusiasm and a lot of stress.”
Then the awards arrived. In 2019 he won the Operalia Competition and in 2021 he was recognized by the International Opera Awards, the most important in opera, as best young singer. Also in 2021 he received the Opera XXI award and the latter, which he could not go to collect, took advantage of it to send a message in favor of freedom. In July of that year, the brutal murder of young Samuel Luiz had occurred in A Coruña, when a mob began to lynch him shouting “faggot”, so Anduaga decided to send the director of the magazine in his place. Shanghai. “I thought it was time to dedicate it to the LGTBI community because it seems that we are going very far forward as a society, but there is a long way to go. I don't care about the risk of taking a position when you are saying something that is good and doesn't hurt anyone. Where there is no respect, I will say what I think because I will never remain silent,” she now explains with aplomb.
The Anduaga of that 2021 looked on the calendar at the appointments already closed for 2023 and thought: “Ugh, when it arrives, how scary.” He had his debut ahead of him at Covent Garden in London, his premiere at the Metropolitan Opera in New York and his first Verdi at the Teatro Real. “It has already happened and everything has gone well,” he summarizes, downplaying its importance. He has done more than well. The criticism of The New York Times He dedicated a title and subtitle to it. “Time seemed to stop (…) she sang with enchanting beauty,” the text reads. There it is nothing. “I have very good feelings about 2023, as if the work I have done has made sense. “I am going down the path that I set out for myself a few years ago.”
The tenor feels the expectations that are forged with each achievement. He is beginning to be treated like a professional tenor and not like a young apprentice, but he still feels a lot of paternalism. And he can't stand it: “Everyone gives me advice and even criticism comes with advice. I have experienced leaving a three-hour performance with tension at a thousand miles per hour and having someone tell you: 'Wow, I would have made that note that way.' I would never dare to tell someone how to do things. It's as if I sat down with Dabid Muñóz and told him: 'Wow, I would have given the chicken two more degrees because it was a little soft.' Well no. Either I enjoy it or I don't, but he's already there. The other day they told me 'You're too generous, you have to sing a little less because maybe in the next performance you won't have a voice.' I kept thinking, 'Are you telling me I'm too generous? Well, you should be happy, right?
He recognizes that all that weight he now feels on his shoulders with each step forward makes him somewhat afraid, but he tries not to think about it too much: “I focus on tomorrow and the day after. Whatever has to come will come. I try not to think about the expectations that other people have of me, but about the expectations that I may have.” Which are? “Be happy. “Be happy singing.”
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