I strolled over to the little Italian barber shop down the block from my apartment for a long overdue haircut this afternoon. For some reason the father of the father/son shop, Gaetano, sheared me...but that isn't the point of this story.
For the entirety of my fifteen minute haircut, as Gaetano happily trimmed shorter and shorter with no sign of stopping, the shop stereo played the music of Andrea Bocelli. Yes, Andrea Bocelli, the blind, overrated, pop-opera wannabe tenor. By the time the track "Con Te Partiro" was nearing its climax I was ready to "accidentally" turn my head into Gaetano's scissors (which at this point were only millimeters from my scalp anyway).
The thing is this: Gaetano and Rocco are hardcore Italians, as you might have guessed from their names. Any English they use in the shop is usually limited to their conversations with customers, and even those exchanges are brief and rely heartily on the phrase "forgettaboutit".
Why would these guys own, let alone play, an Andrea Bocelli CD? Why not some Domingo or Caruso arias? Perhaps some Maria Callas recordings? They are real opera singers with real voices, not some blind guy with a wavering vibrato and a penchant for pansy ass pop arias.
That's it. Now I'm going to listen to my Pavarotti/Freni recording of Tosca and take a shower in hopes that afterwards my hair won't so closely resemble that of a neo-Nazi skinhead.