Charles Aznavour's Final Farewell

If there is ever a charismatic 82-year-old artist who still enjoys singing, acting, and writing, then perhaps Charles Aznavour is the one. Performing in front of over 6,000 fans at the Gibson Amphitheatre in Los Angeles, mostly Armenian, bohemian, and over 40, Aznavour reminded us yet again why he is considered the archetype amongst dramatic vocal artists at what he called his final farewell tour.

Charles Aznavour is not just an artist. He is an avid story-teller and one of the best. He is a passionate and dramatic stage performer, or as they like to call it in Hollywood, an actor. His songs aren't just words written by him or his songwriter. They are tales, expressions, wisdoms, and paintings regarding living, loving, and being.

Classified under the 'World' genre by the Gibson Amphitheatre promoters, Aznavour's music crosses borders. His ability to sing in French, English, Spanish, Italian, and at times even Armenian enables him to add some haute versatility to his fine resume. Following a few French numbers, Aznavour and his talented rhythm guitarist did an eccentric and lively Spanish number from Spain. Standing center stage, he subsequently said to the Los Angeles audience in a heavy, but attractive accent, "As you know that song was in Spanish. For those of you who don't know any French and don't know any Spanish…..what's the difference?" An English number subsequently followed.

For those who don't understand French and Spanish and can barely figure Aznavour's English lyrics because of his heavy French accent, his songs can still be implicitly understood because of his ability to do more than just sing. His dramatic, expression filled on-stage presence which pervades throughout all his performances - and was ever so present at the Gibson Amphitheatre - is enough to enable the audience to acquire a general understanding of his music, regardless of the language. Nonetheless, Aznavour was generous enough to give the Los Angeles audience a brief prelude commentary before each of his foreign language tunes.

As one keen and devoted English-speaking Charles Aznavour fan told me before the concert, "I've learned the French language through Charles' music. I have memorized all the French words in all his songs." She beautifully sang a few verses to the French version of "What Makes A Man" and explained in detailed English each verse. It is amazing how music can cause such adoration and belonging, take your mind to different places, and most importantly, capture your cherished emotions. In doing so, Charles Aznavour's music never fails the task.

To be honest, I expected to see an 82-year-old Aznavour standing on stage with much languor and exhaustion. I figured a final farewell retirement tour - which for most flamboyant and energetic artists are at age 65 - was long overdue for Charles. His performance, however, proved me wrong. Although there were rumors that he was cranky following his performance because he was extremely exhausted from a Boston show just a night earlier, Aznavour's on-stage performance was as energetic as Aznavour's youthful spirit itself. Amusing the audience with his dainty wit, a few refined jokes, a number of old-fashioned tango moves, and even a few jumps of joy in the air, Charles quickly became the blueprint of a man I want to become when I turn 82. The audience couldn't get enough.

They say music crosses generations. Aznavour's crosses generations, and then some. I feel privileged to have witnessed a key moment in history - Aznavour's final farewell. I feel privileged to be part of a "crossing-generation" which experienced the music of an Aznavour generation from decades ago. I don't think there are too many figures in history which can capture the emotions of others with such ease. Certainly Mozart, Beethoven, and perhaps Elvis Presley can be a few notables, but Charles Aznavour is in a league of his own. Arguably considered as one of the greatest modern European vocalists to ever perform, Charles can often be regarded to many as a cultural hero for his ability to relate with a wide range of audiences.

After expressing his gratitude, Aznavour told the audience that the next song to be sung was learned many years ago from an old man when he was a youngster. At age 82, he said, "I can only now sing this song." Being the final song on his final concert, Aznavour began the lyrics to "Yesterday When I Was Young": 'Yesterday when I was young, the taste of life was sweet as rain upon my tongue. I teased at life as if it were a foolish game, the way the evening breeze may tease a candle flame.' The final verse then sang: 'There are so many songs in me that won't be sung, I feel the bitter taste of tears upon my tongue, the time has come for me to pay, for yesterday when I was young.'

The word 'young' was the last word sang by Charles Aznavour on stage that night, and rightfully so. A lengthy and well deserved stand-up applause followed as the audience knew this would be the last time they would ever see Aznavour on stage. Feeling saddened for those who never experienced or had a chance to appreciate Aznavour before, the ephemeral spectacle came to an end. This, I told myself while walking out, was art.