When Il Volo stepped onto the stage for their tribute to Ennio Morricone, no one could have predicted the emotional gravity that would follow. The concert — a breathtaking celebration of Italy’s most revered composer — reached its pinnacle with a song that, though not Morricone’s own, carried the same essence of artistry and legacy: “My Way.”
The stage was bathed in gold, evoking the sepia warmth of Morricone’s cinematic worlds — deserts, sunsets, silent heroes. A full symphony stood behind the trio, strings shimmering like wind across an old film reel. Then, Piero Barone began: his voice deep and resolute, filled with the quiet dignity of farewell. Ignazio Boschetto followed, his phrasing tender yet strong, carrying the melody like a promise kept. And when Gianluca Ginoble entered, his baritone whispered of time, love, and destiny — the very themes that defined Morricone’s life’s work.
What made this performance unforgettable wasn’t grandeur, but sincerity. Il Volo didn’t aim to impress — they aimed to honor. Each verse of “My Way” seemed to mirror Morricone’s journey: a man who composed not for fame, but for feeling; who lived by his own rhythm, his own truth.
Behind them, archival footage of Morricone appeared — the Maestro conducting, smiling, lost in creation. The blend of music and memory was almost unbearable in its beauty. As the song built to its final crescendo, the trio’s voices merged in perfect harmony: “And now, the end is near…” It was both tribute and prayer.
The crowd rose before the final note even ended — a standing ovation that lasted minutes, echoing through the concert hall like thunder after rain. “For Ennio,” Gianluca whispered, hand over heart.
That night, Il Volo didn’t just sing My Way. They sang his way — with elegance, humility, and love that only true artists can give.
And in that moment, Italy remembered what it means to feel music — and to live it.
