November 30, 2011

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Two hours into a drizzle-soaked concert in New York’s Central Park, Andrea Bocelli lets the sun shine in. He welcomes Céline Dion onstage for their duet, “The Prayer,” and the umbrella-wielding audience, estimated at 60,000, whoops like football fans celebrating a touchdown.

The concert, airing Dec. 2 on PBS (check local listings) and also available on CD/DVD, is proof that not even Mother Nature can rain on Bocelli’s parade.

At 53, the blind, Tuscan-born tenor remains a crowd-pleasing master of pop ballads, traditional songs, and opera alike.

Your 1999 Sacred Arias is the all-time best-selling album by a classical soloist. Did that surprise you?

My company said, joking, “Probably you will sell this album only to your relatives.” Nobody realized this music would have so much appeal.

Your fans, many of them women, seem to follow you with an almost religious fervor. What is that like?

I have to place all the adulation and admiration on a scale, and on the other side put all those who have been hating me for many years.

Do you mean classical music critics? Some have been hard on you.

I’m not affected very much by criticism that has no reason. There are critics who are honest and those who are just not objective. I’m never interested in looking at things from the negative side.

Do you get gifts from female admirers?

Yes. Things like that have happened. Perfumed notes.

Ever blushed at such a note?

I’m not that shy. Not in life—only on the stage. I’ve often felt stage fright.

How does that affect you?

It affects my heart rate. Then my hands become sweaty and cold.

Can fear be a useful tool for an artist?

Fear is never useful, because it weakens you. But a certain tension can help you become more expressive onstage.

Your nickname as a child was Earthquake. Why?

I was never still. My parents were always holding their breath, because they didn’t know what would come next. I remember that I broke, willingly, a bunch of toys, because I wanted to see what was inside.

Do you travel with any special keepsakes?

No, but I do like to practice with a flute when I’m warming up my voice. It helps my breathing, and it’s relaxing.

Your extended family lives in Tuscany, including your two teenage sons. What’s a typical day with them like?

My sons are 16 and 14, old enough that we can do a lot of things together. They love the sea, for instance, so we can go out on a boat, and that is always a pleasure.

When you’re home, do you cook?

Sometimes I make pasta. But nothing else. I’m not a great cook. It’s dangerous to eat my food.

You’ve said in interviews that you miss your father, who passed away in 2000.

My father was not a musician, but he believed very much in me. He knew that I had to overcome difficulties in life. [Bocelli had congenital glaucoma and lost his sight completely at age 12 after a sports accident.] Unfortunately, when I began my career, he was sick and had to stay at home. But every night I called him. He was always telling me, “You have to go sing in America.”

So all of the [American] concerts I’ve done—Carnegie Hall, Madison Square Garden, the Metropolitan [Opera], and now Central Park—these are all things I would have liked to live with him.