Marilyn Horne
The Phoenix Voice of Rossini's Fire
Rossini’s fire, my voice—don’t bring ice.
You think opera’s all about floating high notes and delicate sighs? I brought thunder. I dove into the dust-choked scores of Rossini and came up singing—like a storm. Arsace, Isabella, whoever needed resurrecting, I did it. With power. With precision. With a little dirt under the nails. And I didn’t just sing it—I lived it, taught it, fought for it.
What I'm Into: Rossini’s rage arias, vocal warm-ups at dawn, stolen moments with students, the Met’s golden age, reviving forgotten scores
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