The Spanish announcer promises an event with ‘something of the character of a rock concert’. Mercifully, there is nothing of that, or, if so, nothing that is caught on camera. But why do they have to say these things? As though it’s something to be proud of.

More usefully, he quotes Pavarotti’s saying the previous day: ‘My voice wants to sing Bellini, but I love Mozart’. This must have had to do with the surprising choice of ‘Un’ aura amorosa’ as the opening number: a creditable and bold manifesto of priorities, though I’m not sure it wouldn’t have come better after the group of songs of Bellini – curiously, his singing of the Mozart doesn’t quite tell of love, though it is scrupulously cared-for and its difficulties are honestly faced. Scrupulous is also the word for his general approach to occasions of this kind. The Bellini group offers no top notes and incites no noisy bravos; instead, it focuses attention on the songs themselves, as, more interestingly, does the group of three songs by Respighi in the second half. Eventually, at encore-time, he obliges with O sole mio (which does not entirely suit him as he hasn’t the richness for the low-lying verses); but then he follows with ‘Una furtiva lagrima’, and the audience cheer on recognising the introductory bars just as they did with the Neapolitan favourite. Mascagni’s Serenata is a pleasure to hear, and perhaps most personal and endearing of all is the ‘coda’ to Tosti’s A vucchella.

Leone Magiera is a helpful accompanist, skillful and knowing exactly what Pavarotti’s intentions are throughout. The camera-work is well-judged, too. In his introductory remarks, the announcer assures us that he had kept the seat empty next to him specially for our use, but in fact we do better than that, observing the singer from many angles and coming sufficiently close to have an inkling of the fine decisions concerning breath and placement that are involved in this art which the famous tenor makes appear so easy. The cameras also afford a chance to admire once more the splendours of that lovely, doomed house.