Grazie.
It's Italian for...never mind, enough said.
Scusa. There's more.
Grazie.
I heard that word a lot at the Sound Waves Theater at the Hard Rock Casino and Hotel in Atlantic City, New Jersey. My beloved wife had won a weekend stay in Boardwalk City, which also included dinner reservations and tickets to a show.
Grazie.
At 8 P.M. sharp on Saturday, March 29, 2025, we were in the Sound Waves lobby awaiting entry to the show. As I people watched, stayed out of the way of the CIAO USA TV crew, and eavesdropped on conversations, one salient, Lake Garda-like realization dawned on me: everyone was speaking Italian. Everyone—young and old. And tonight's concert would also be all in italiano.
Geographically this made sense. From the late 19th to the early 20th centuries, lots of Italian immigrants settled in New Jersey, contributing significantly to the social fabric. Why wouldn't there be enough Italian-speaking Americans to support a concert in italiano?
However—mea culpa—beside the word for "thank you," my Italian is limited: pizza, Lamborghini, Papa, pecorino, Sagrantino di Montefalco. Certainly not enough to explain the Pythagorean theorem (I prefer Greek for that), and not enough to understand every word of what was to be sung. But I know good music when I hear it (whatever the language) and I was ready to be entertained.
Furthermore, I currently live in Los Angeles, so am used to navigating a multilingual world. My beloved wife is the daughter of Mexican immigrants, so I hear (and speak) Spanish every day. And growing up in New Zealand, especially in Auckland, I would often hear Te Reo Māori, Tongan, Samoan, Niuean and others.
An air of anticipation filled the theater as we were guided to our seats (A 11-12). And then... Arisa came out on stage, nay, glided out on stage. With shoulder length hair, and a full-length black gown, she was a personification of grace, beauty, and class. Her high cheek bones accentuated a dignified countenance; I could not wait to hear this woman sing.
And sing she did—passionate, heartfelt songs (if I may borrow from another Romance language: joie de vivre!) that resonated with the audience. Between songs, Arisa would converse with the audience...one time I believe she was thanking and declaring her love for her mother. We all were.
At the end of her performance, Arisa taped a selfie of herself and her bandmates. In the background, the audience is waving and cheering with gratitude and enthusiasm, myself included.
Later research revealed that Arisa is actually the stage name for Rosalba Pippa, born in Genoa, Italy. "Arisa" is an acronym arranged from the first letters of her family members' names: A (dad Antonio), R (herself Rosalba), I (sister Isabella), S (sister Sabrina), and A (mum Assunta). My acronym would be: A Really Iconic Soulful Artist.
The next and final performer was Sal Da Vinci. The man exuded charm, charisma, and knew how to work an audience. And work it he did—belting out song after song to a widely appreciative audience (the folks who self-identified from Naples had their own banner).
The last time I had seen such stage presence and magnetism was when I saw Michael Damian as Joseph in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat in Los Angeles at the Pantages Theatre on Thursday, April 15, 1993 (Dear Diary, grazie).
The other dynamic in Sal Da Vinci's performance was the crown interaction—from a baby in a carrier to elderly patrons with walkers—and everyone age group in between, all were so into this artist. Teenage girls, their mums, and grandparents too would regularly stand up and sing along with Mr. Da Vinci. By the end of the night my wife and I were standing up and "singing" along! We were fans; we were with la famiglia.
In September, 2025, my wife and I will be holidaying in Italy. But on this March evening, in the Sound Waves Theater, Italy came to America.
Grazie, Sal Da Vinci & Arisa, grazie, grazie!
🥝🥝🥝🥝
© 2025