Choir of One

 

“He really does have a beautiful singing voice, doesn’t he?” my wife said as Fly Me to the Moon ended.

“Who is it?”

“Are you kidding? It’s Vic Makropolus. Haven’t you ever heard him before?”

She picked up the CD case and handed it over to me. It was a fairly old-fashioned design, just a photo of a plain-looking man in an evening suit on an empty stage, under a spotlight. In white serifed letters above his head it said, IN CONCERT: VIC MAKROPOLUS.

The Impossible Dream began coming from the stereo. There was no denying he had a powerful, compelling voice. He had a strong, rich, baritone voice that was good to listen to.

“Yes. Yes, he’s good. Is he new?”

“He only started recording this year, as far as I know. I think this is his first album. He’s been popping up on my feeds, though.”

I read the text on the CD case. For some reason, the phrase “in concert” caught in my brain.

“Funny about that term, ‘in concert’. It implies more than one person singing, yet it’s normally applied to a single person singing.”

“You’re right. It’s like calling one person singing a chorus.”

“Although with pipes like his, this fellow is a choir of one.”

“You see why he impressed me.”

“Oh, indeed. He’s the kind who would have knocked ‘em dead in the old days, before amplification. Even now, a voice that strong stands out.”

He went into Nessun dorma. We fell silent. We had no choice.

The Magic Eight-Ball says: "Listen."