I have determined that my seeing Ludovico Einaudi was meant to be. After a long line of stars aligned in my favor, I was given the opportunity by Radio UTD to see my favorite pianist and composer of modern classical music! It all began around five years ago when I first decided to start learning piano during the pandemic. I had discovered his song “Nuvole Bianche” through an amateur pianist I was following on Instagram. Immediately enamored, I found sheet music on MuseScore and started learning the piece, using the video as a guide on how to position my hands and play the arpeggios. For Christmas that year, I asked for and was gifted sheet music of Einadui’s most popular songs.

As someone who has been listening to and playing Einaudi’s repertoire for years, I was elated when I discovered the opportunity to cover his show. In fact, I was shocked the spot hadn’t been snatched up—he is the most streamed classical music artist EVER. Although it was short notice, I immediately reached out to try to snag the opportunity. A few days later, it was confirmed! And, as luck would have it, the day before the concert was a DSLR training session where I could learn how to use the camera I would be shooting with.

The next problem: I didn’t have a way of getting to the show. A round-trip Uber would have totaled nearly $200, and it was hard trying to convince any of my friends that they actually knew this guy’s music. Finally, my friend Sebastian took me up on my offer, and we were off. As I suspected, he quickly realized he was familiar with Einaudi’s music, and soon became extremely hyped to see him as well. 

After an over-hour-long drive, I ran to will call at 7:15 in a panic, thinking the show was going to start at 7:30. As I was watching swaths of people not receiving help—for example, a couple whose Ticketmaster tickets simply vanished—I feared I would meet the same fate. However, upon reaching the ticket window and providing my ID, I was handed two yellow wristbands. Confused, I asked where my actual tickets were, and she confirmed these were actually them, and that we could figure out where we would be seated after I finished shooting.

Once we finally got inside, I started adjusting the camera settings to the location. 7:30 came and went, and we realized we were panicking for no reason because the show actually started at 8:00, despite what Ticketmaster said. I was adjusting my settings more with my given extra time when I heard a man shouting from behind, asking how long I was going to be there. After explaining my role and how I was authorized to photograph in that area for the first ten minutes, he nodded, and I turned around to continue adjusting. A few minutes later, I heard a new voice—muttering, “Ten minutes?”, and more muttering. This older woman then shouted at me: “Excuse me, ma’am. How long are you going to be here?” I explained again. She snapped, “Well, we paid a lot of money for these seats.” Others around her began piling on, starting to order me to do this and that to accommodate them—mind you, the show hadn’t started—and I assured them I was going to do my best to stay out of their way. 

Thankfully, Sebastian was able to be the middleman between what he recognized as inebriated persons and me, who was growing increasingly frustrated at their orders. Although Sebastian was able to calm them down, and we did find seats to sit in while we waited for the show, every few minutes or so, our conversations would be pierced with “ten minutes,” “can you believe that?,” “she said ten minutes.” However, when the preshow announcement started playing, I completely forgot about them.

To my surprise, Einaudi was joined onstage by seven other instrumentalists; I had simply assumed that, although his discography comprised solo piano and their orchestrated counterparts, he would have been touring on his own. I was delighted when “Rose Bay” began, and slowly a soundscape of cello, violin, percussion, accordion, and more began to build and reverberate throughout the space. I diligently kept track of time so as not to incite something with the group behind me (I rate them 7/10 Karens, by the way—they properly intimidated me but didn’t try to find a manager).

I also photographed during “To Be Sun,” another piece from his new album The Summer Portraits. One of my favorite parts of Einaudi’s music is the sense of nostalgia and reflection it incites in me. “The Summer Portraits,” specifically, surround Einaudi’s own reflection on his childhood after being inspired by a woman’s paintings he discovered while visiting a villa on a Mediterranean island. These portraits, painted summer after summer, compelled Einaudi to reflect on his own idyllic childhood summers. Being present at such a show during this time of my life, as a freshman, journeying out into the adult world for the first time, was extremely touching. I just experienced what many would consider my last “childhood” summer, and now those summers will all become simply memories and nostalgia to me, too.

When my ten minutes had passed, “Punta Bianca” played as I gathered my belongings and found a seat with Sebastian. Soon, the calming and familiar repetition of “Fly” echoed through the auditorium, and years of listening to Divenire came flooding back to me. The next few tracks alternated between songs that hadn’t even reached a year old on The Summer Portraits and songs that had become nostalgic for me—“Episode One” from The Summer Portraits, “Run” from In a Time Lapse, “Santiago,” from The Summer Portraits, and “I Giorni,” from one of Einaudi’s earliest works of the same name. Over and over again, I would turn to Sebastian to gush about the instrumental additions, dynamics, and heck, the sound mixing, too! It was astounding the fullness of sound that was produced by just eight people on stage. 

I would be remiss if I didn’t talk about the lighting design. While simple, the lighting design did a fantastic job at telling the story of the music, particularly during The Red Song. “Eros,” the actual name of the song, was one of the highlights of the night. Distinguished by its deep red color palette, my best description of the energy of it all would be Sweeney Todd, for any theatre fans who understand the reference. Possibly one of the raddest sounds ever came from when the percussionist held chains and used them to beat against his drum. The Red Song perfectly encapsulated the best parts of the show: the beautiful blend of instruments, the thoughtful lighting design, and the experimentation that makes the live performance special. 

Soon, after a beautiful climax, Einaudi was left alone onstage. It was simply him and his piano. After a setlist of symphonic orchestrations, the minimalistic and raw renditions of his songs lent to a stark but more impactful intermission as his band rested. Finally being able to solely focus on his playing, I was able to pick up the subtleties in every note he played. Then, Ludovico played an F minor chord…. I thought to myself, “Is this going to be Nuvole Bianchi? Can’t be…. That’s a different octave.” Yep, my inner music geek was showing. Years of playing “Nuvole Bianche” had deeply ingrained every note, octave, and stylistic nuance into me, and when he began to play the body of the song, my fingers almost felt compelled by muscle memory to play along. However, my muscle memory failed me, but not for my lack of practice. I realized during this rendition that Einaudi felt like the Alex Turner type—they can never let you get too comfortable with how a song is phrased. Inevitably, after decades of playing albums like Una Mattina, Einaudi has entered new stages of his life and has grown to be a completely different person than who originally wrote the song. While these new interpretations sometimes made me double-take, they allowed me to truly live in this music for the first time in years.

As the band rejoined Einaudi and they continued playing songs from The Summer Portraits—“Maria Callas” and one of my favorites from the album, “Pathos”—I couldn’t help but start to get emotional. I reflected on everything it took for me to arrive at that moment in time: none of this would’ve happened if I didn’t reach out about the coverage opportunity in time, or if I didn’t discover it in time, which wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t compliment Olivia on her (super cute) purse, which wouldn’t have happened if I had decided I was too busy studying to go to the Radio UTD meeting, which wouldn’t have been possible if I didn’t decide to apply to be a DJ trainee, and so on. Many people criticize Einaudi for his music’s simplicity and say its messaging is too vague, but his minimalism leaves me room to ponder about my own life and transpose my own story onto his pieces. In a climate of overstimulation, I have found solace in the simplicity.

Einaudi began to wrap up the show with two of his older pieces, “Nightbook,” alongside what might easily be his most iconic piece, the song that I will swear that almost every social media-literate teen of my generation will know: “Experience.” While a beautiful song, I could not help but be distracted by the onslaught of people that had decided to take out their phones and press record. Seriously. The ushers were nowhere to be seen, and in their inaction I came to fear the Karens even less. 

Einaudi then formally introduced the band: multi-instrumentalist Federico Mecozzi on violin and viola, Klest Kripa on violin, Redi Hasa on cello, Rocco Nigro on accordion, Gianluca Mancini on synth and live electronics, Alberto Fabris on electric bass and bass synth, and Francesco Arcuri on glockenspiel, saw, and more. Then, Einaudi took to the piano again to provide a wonderful “Experience” reprise. After one final encore with a beautiful rendition of “The Tower,” the show was over. I quickly ran to take pictures of the final curtain call, and ran into a UTD professor (represent!) while readying to leave the aisle. 

Upon the show ending, Sebastian and I stayed to take pictures in front of the stage. After a few minutes, we were about ready to go when we heard that anybody without a wristband had to leave, and those with wristbands should line up by the wall for the meet and greet. 

“These wristbands?” I meekly asked, to Sebastian’s dismay. “Yep,” he said. We freaked out as we ran to get in line. We pretended to have forgotten to grab something to sign when they asked everyone to take out their items. I decided I wanted him to sign my wristband. However, while I struck up a conversation with the couple behind me, Sebastian talked to a man who decided to give him a large white cardboard folder for the autographs. Finally, when we got to the front of the line, a man reached over and handed me a Ludovico postcard, so I could have something to get signed—a sweet gesture that made my day. As we walked behind the black curtain, Einaudi was there. I went to shake his hand and tell a small part of my story, and he was super sweet and gracious. After getting a picture with him, I also rushed to meet the band, where I discovered that some had been part of his team for multiple decades! Everyone was so kind and the experience was honestly surreal.

Sebastian and I walked out of the venue in absolute awe. We gushed about the experience the entire hour and a half drive home. Sebastian, who plays cello, was able to explain to me some of the techniques used on-stage, which only made me even more impressed. You heard it here first, folks: the concert was cellist-approved. We could speak no other words but gratitude. I don’t think there could’ve possibly been a better outcome for this show. Yes, there were some minor hiccups along the way (see: the 7/10 Karens), but those are what made the rest all the more rewarding. The timing of seeing Ludovico Einaudi during this formative period in my life was no accident. Nor was every single event leading to me finally meeting him. This experience has shown me the importance of the smaller things in life and how through acts of kindness and dedication you can realize your dreams. My first show doing concert coverage for RadioUTD has set a high bar. But even a show a tenth as good as this one would be practically perfect, as no standard could reasonably ever be higher than the experience that this show provided me.