Pavarotti

Even before joining with Jose Carreras and Placido Domingo in the legendary Three Tenors, Luciano Pavarotti personified the definition of international superstar. A man of outsized passions and equally outsized talent, Luciano was central casting's idea of the model tenor: a big man whose white handkerchief hid the lozenges that salved that most refined of instruments, his throat. When he let loose with "Rigoletto: 'La Donna È Mobile'" or "O sole mio," though, you'd swear that throat had been drop-forged in carbon steel.

It brings a tear to hear the Chairman of the Board, Frank Sinatra, nearing the end of his road, sharing "My Way" with Pavarotti, then in the prime of his career. Not only due to the contrast of Sinatra's increasing fragility with Pavarotti's youthful vigor, but also because the song could be equally applied to both of their wildly divergent careers. And if you want to appreciate Pavarotti's breadth, check out "Ti adoro," which welds an Italian love song to an orchestral jump-blues backing track. Pazzesco!

Pavarotti was much more than a factory for high-volume high Cs; he knew when to allow his expressive voice to float with the gentility of a spring breeze, and his reading of "La Serenata" exhibits the understated beauty of a single rose, rather than the entire garden. Similarly, on Beethoven's arietta "In Questa Tomba Oscura, WoO. 133," Pavarotti was the picture of moderation. But when it came time for dynamo power, he could electrify an audience with a megawatt performance, as in "La Fille du Régiment: 'Ah mes amis – Pour mon áme" (The Girl of the Regiment's "Ah, my friends – For my love").

Like many with outsized lives, Pavarotti embodied countless contradictions: the man who holds the Guinness world record for most curtain calls (including an astonishing 17 for one New York Metropolitan Opera performance) also was so protective of his throat that in a single city (Chicago) he cancelled a mind-blowing 26 concerts in eight years. A tireless ambassador on opera's behalf, he mentored students and promoted the music to audiences who had never set foot in a concert hall — most notably to 800 million people at the opening of the 1990 World Cup, the largest single opera audience in the history of our planet. And behind it all was a behemoth with diesel-powered lungs that could cause the earth itself to quake when he let the big note fly.