What’s your link to Philip II?
It’s the dream role for any bass. For me it’s the destination arrived at after a long journey. My debut in the role wasn’t until 2024, at the Staatsoper Wien. Up to then I’d done a lot of bel canto: Rossini, the French catalogue, early Verdi. Philip II is next level, though; you need life experience and vocal maturity.

What kind of experience do you have in mind?
If I’m honest, in my case it was self-confidence. I came relatively late to music, didn’t turn professional until I was 25. I slowly worked my way up, taking small parts but at big-name venues. Performances were ultra-stressful for me. The directors and the whole team are pushing you, and if you falter, it rattles them. It was hard, but now, 20 years later, having sung many major protagonists at great opera houses, I’ve sussed it and can focus all my energy on the complexity of a character.

As a bass, you’re often performing as a baddy on stage. What do you make of that?
You’re right, bass singers tend to play the confidant, the friend or the sinister, shadowy character. I like getting into those roles. I’m a very ordinary bloke, verging on dull. I live a low-key life, not one for sartorial statements. On stage that all goes. I enjoy living other lives within the box of my own.

Philip II is a macho man who wants to keep his son in his shadow. Is there any of that in your nature?
I identify not so much with the macho as with the pain that the character feels. As I said, Philip II is the part I’ve always been dreaming of – and dreading. I was scared of not doing the role justice. It was the part that made me want to be a singer. A friend of my father back in Parma was an opera buff and I got him to hear me singing along to a CD of Boris Christow doing Philip II. That’s how it began. Later, my father always wanted to see me performing Philip live, but he died before my debut. So he’s in my thoughts, too, when I’m doing Philip on stage.

How was it growing up in Parma, Giuseppe Verdi’s native city?
Verdi was omnipresent in the ‘80s and ‘90s, when I was growing up. You heard his music through the open windows in the narrow streets and Verdi was always creeping from the doors of the conservatoire. My dad adored opera, was friends with a lot of »Loggionisti« - and they introduced me to the world of opera.

Are »Loggionisti« the people who hire a box to watch an opera from?
Yes. I was lucky enough to get to know them and their »Circoli Lirici«. There was a whole raft of these opera clubs in Parma. It was a way of life: you cut yourself a slice of salami, opened a bottle of wine, took in some lyrical song, organised concerts with great singers. Really very Italian.

And that doesn’t happen so much nowadays?
Unfortunately, no. There’s been a generational shift. Which is why I want to showcase a slice of this culture through my performances abroad. Maybe I can evoke the same feelings that I had in my younger days - and still have, whenever I’m up on stage.