Its streets dark and deserted, Siena is a ghost town. A lone voice starts to sing and gradually others join in, some in harmony, some not quite in tune, but all of them full of joy and hope. What is remarkable is not their musical ability (although they sound wonderful for an impromptu performance!) but the sense of unity created as voice after voice joins in. Despite the separation caused by a nation-wide order of confinement, this contrada continues to sing together, filling the silent city with music.
As the coronavirus ravaged Italy in early March, it was impossible to miss the videos online that revealed countless examples of apartment buildings, streets and towns coming together through music. From Siena to Rome, Milan to Palermo, Italians went to their balconies at 6pm every evening to join together through song, using the music to reassure one another that they would weather the chaos of Covid. In the face of pain, fear and confusion, music sustained their unity. So often we praise Italian music for its beauty as an art-form, but its importance is rooted in something much deeper. Music has long been a source of unity for Italians, a rallying cry against divisive and damaging forces, and in March, it was what brought them together when nothing else could.
An Italian who instantly comes to mind when we think of Italian opera is Giuseppe Verdi, his name practically synonymous with the genre. Prolific throughout the nineteenth century, his most famous works include Rigoletto (1851) and Il trovatore (1853). But, perhaps unknown to his Anglophone aficionados, his works played a particularly special role in uniting Italy before its official unification in 1861. A longing for a free, united Italian homeland underscores many of his operas, most famously Nabucco (1842), a work based on an ancient poem describing the exploitation of the Jews banished to Babylonia by the dictator, Nabucco. At a time when large swathes of the Italian peninsula were controlled by the Austrian empire, many Italians found a sense of empowerment in Verdi’s work, to rise up in the face of domination. One aria in particular, ‘Chorus of the Hebrew Slaves’, more commonly known as ‘Va, pensiero’, sets to music an intense desire for a homeland and an end to suffering. The parallel between the Hebrew slaves and the oppressed Italians is unmistakeable and following its premier in 1842, the opera was performed a further 61 times in that year. Spurred on by his success, in his following operas Verdi incorporated similar sentiments, devoting himself to Italy’s unification; in fact, later in life he worked in the Italian parliament, angling for Rome to be brought into the newly-unified Italian state. Verdi realised music’s power to motivate his fellow citizens and successfully manipulated it to create works that were hymns for a newly-founded nation.
Too often opera is dismissed as dull and aloof, but in Italy, it is the contrary as Verdi’s influence lives on. There have long been calls for the national anthem to be replaced with ‘Va, pensiero’ and it is often performed on its own as a celebration of Italian national identity. When the lilting melody starts, Italian audiences have been known to stand up and applaud, joining in with the chorus to sing the tune that has been integral to their unity for over 150 years.
Just as the Italian people were encouraged by Verdi’s music to fight for their freedom, only a few months ago music once again brought strength to Italy. A flashmob-like outpouring of song to bring joy to dark days became a national demonstration of support, an invisible thread of unity, tying Italians together and helping them to cope with isolation and soaring death tolls. What’s clear is that, thanks to Italy’s long history of unity and strength through music, they were able to withstand the first wave of the coronavirus, knowing that ‘andrà tutto bene’.
Nia Kile
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