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Every Andre Rieu fan has their story about how they came to know about him. Actually, I discovered him later than many, around 2003. My Mom and sister had seen him perform on PBS, and I was introduced to him through the DVD New Years in Vienna. I watched the sparkle in his eyes with interest, but it was his “wild man” routine during “Chianti” and his uninhibited sense of fun in the encores that made a lasting impression. It was obvious that he had the vision to go where no other classical musician had gone before. His irrepressible spirit captivated me. A year or two passed after I’d seen him the first time. I was absorbed in an unusually stressful period of life personally and professionally, and wasn’t feeling well; things seemed pretty dark. Perhaps it was the memory of the uplifted feeling of that first DVD, but suddenly one day Andre Rieu strongly returned to my consciousness and stayed there. I started to discover other pieces of his work, finding one after the other like little gifts. I found solace in his performances, and they helped me remember the beauty and joy in life. Unaware of the breadth and frequency of Andre Rieu’s American concert scene, I had never really considered seeing him live in concert. It seemed like an unlikely dream. I assumed that he only performed in major cities on the coasts, far from me, and that I wouldn’t be able to afford the cost on my teacher’s salary. With help from several fan sites and research on my own, I realized that it was more possible than ever to see Andre perform in person. My first concert was in Omaha, Nebraska in October 2007. Because I was still learning how to get the best tickets, my first seat was far from the stage. Still, it was incredibly exciting to be there, within the electric atmosphere that Andre and his JSO create. My best memory of that concert was my Mom, sister and I cheering and waving our Andre Rieu scarves to the beat of “Adieu, Little Captain of My Heart”. Ours were the only scarves out there, and the ever-observant Andre noticed them. He paused after the song, gazing out in our direction. Then he whipped his hand playfully around his head like he was twirling a rope, letting us know that he had seen our waltzing scarves. Then, as I looked at the big screen, I saw him grin magnificently as I cheered and flapped my scarf back at him. I have found that Andre appreciates and rewards polite enthusiasm, and in some way we connected across that space, even though we weren’t close enough to see each other’s faces clearly.
Once you have been to one Andre Rieu concert, you are seized by a positive addiction. You are constantly on the hunt for concert dates and the best seats, and you find yourself with PBS memberships in several states. You start skipping less-amusing entertainment in favor of saving money and splurging on the next Andre Rieu event. It was through this process that I got much better seats for a Kansas City concert in April 2008. This time, instead of half an arena away, I was sixth row and center.
Every Andre Rieu fan feels their own personal connection to his performances,
whether they experience them on a CD, a DVD or in a
concert. He has taught every one of us how to
dream again, and reminds us that we hold the power to
make our own dreams come true. If you’ve read the
story of Andre’s life, you understand how hard he fought
and how persistent he had to be in order to achieve his
current success. That day in Kansas City, with
Andre Rieu just in front of me on the stage, I realized
the absolute privilege of sharing that evening of music.
No matter how many times you have heard Andre’s music,
there is something surreal about watching him play his
Stradivarius live. You become mesmerized by watching
his fingers precisely and dexterously move over the
strings with the absolute ease of years of experience
and constant practice. (One thing I noticed
immediately was the large muscle in his left hand.)
You also notice the mastery, absorption and intelligence
in his face.
I had always wondered if the man on the DVDs was a true reflection of the real Andre Rieu. What would he be like in person? I can say that from my experiences, he is what he appears to be. I think what surprised me most about this second concert was that Andre was so comfortable to be near. You didn’t feel shy, you wanted to interact with him because he wanted to interact with you. You could feel him seeking genuine connections with people, you could feel his emotions. He has played the most impressive venues in the world, the most prestigious places, and here he is, playing sincerely for you. He just has no pretense, no arrogance. He is open and warm. You could see his dedication, how he wanted to perform perfectly for you. He is simply extraordinary, and you feel that sense of greatness surrounding him. . . . . .
Andre’s sense of humor is endearing. He loves to play with the crowd, and really enjoys enthusiasm and involvement. For example, he absolutely cracked the crowd up when a woman came near the stage to take a picture. He posed, putting his hand on his hip and sweeping his hair back on one side, making a goofy face. He is a very funny and sweet ham. Another example was the hilarious experience I had during the encores; we were yelling for more, and in the spirit of things, I pumped my hands upward, looking at him expectantly. He caught my kidding gesture with eagle-eyed alertness, responding with that playful mouth-motoring he uses with audiences who are begging for more. “Bbwwaahh!” he mocked me with a clowning face. I was so surprised that as a reflex, I did it back at him, and we got locked in a few moments of face-making, hand-waving silliness. I finally dissolved in laughter, and he grinned with delight as he went back to playing.
What made Andre’s spirit even more special at this Kansas City concert was finding out (after the fact) that even though he had not been feeling his best that night, he still put on an incredible performance. Apparently, Andre and the JSO had gotten ill upon arriving in America, and since this was just their fourth concert on that trip, some of them still were not back to themselves. Andre’s eyes looked tired that night, but I wasn’t sure if it was the toll of travel or if he just wasn’t feeling well. From what I have read, Andre is well aware of how much people look forward to his performances, and how disappointed they would be if he cancelled, so he goes on no matter how he feels. When the crowd was cheering for encores, you could see him want to keep playing, but obviously he’s a human being who gets tired and sick like anyone else. With all the rest of the fans, I had been begging for more, but at a certain moment Andre’s eyes settled on mine and I felt his fatigue. Since I had never been this close to Andre in a concert before, I didn’t realize how effectively he can communicate with his face, without ever saying a word. It was humbling, and I silently understood that he didn’t have a lot more to give that evening. As the cheering continued, everyone’s raised hands around me spread into five fingers to signal “5 more!” Still holding his gaze, I put up just one finger and smiled a little. He smiled back slightly.
I felt Andre guiding the concert to a close, playing the final encores, and I got the courage to take a gift to him on stage. I figured I would “chicken out” and hadn’t seriously considered doing it. But something commanded me, and there I was, numbly walking up to the stage as he took his bows. I stood against the stage below him, my arm brushing the flowers, thinking, “Oh, please be as kind as you seem.” The cheering crowd was background noise to me as I waited. Then, in one of those startling moments, Andre’s gaze dropped to me. Because the stage lights were in my eyes, I couldn’t see his expression clearly. He leaned over me, a bright blue aura backlighting his body and shadowing his face. Although he is thin and wiry, his broad shoulders loomed over me. I was suddenly speechless and overwhelmed. Extending my arm, I held my gift up and he carefully took it. He sort of curled over me, seeming to sense how tentative I was. I heard his masculine, deep, melodically-accented voice say, “Thank you.” I felt his smile as he spoke to me, and his words were warm and kind as they vibrated between us. Andre’s presence was undeniably powerful, yet intentionally gentle. He nodded his head softly, then straightened and raised his arms in that signature encore pose, my gift in his right hand. Incredibly honored, I was too overcome to reply. Still in a haze, I left that concert not wanting anything more from that evening. I am sure that Andre receives hundreds of demands every day, and inevitably carries the massive weight of the expectations directed at him. But he had thoughtfully given me a gift in return, a gift of gracious acknowledgment. That evening in the Sprint Center, fate allowed me to experience the magic of Andre Rieu. He still has the sensitivity, after thousands of performances, to notice a common person; most of all, he is considerate and spiritually generous enough to take a pause from the adulation going on around him to recognize a sincere gesture of thanks. Speaking of dreams – in the company of Andre Rieu, you believe that princes really do exist.
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