One Chance (30 page)

I started the album promotion in my biggest market: Germany.
To my amazement, I was nominated for Germany's prestigious ECHO award—the German equivalent of the American Grammys or the Brit Awards in the UK. I was up for Best International Rock and Pop Artist and Album of the Year, finding myself against such established artists as Lenny Kravitz and Kid Rock.

With such stiff competition, I was convinced I was not going to win. Vivian Hauner from Sony, who had been working very hard to get me established in Germany, informed me that I would be performing “Nessun Dorma” at the awards ceremony, right before my category came up. This had me thinking, Are they telling me I'm going to win, or are they being malicious? Are they going to have me perform a piece about winning and then tell me I haven't won? That would certainly have been cruel!

It was another of those life-changing moments. I suspected that everyone but me knew whether I had won or not, and that they wanted my reactions to be genuine. I turned out to be right. Everyone from the German label knew the result, and this was clear when, to my amazement, my name was read out as the winner. I couldn't believe it!

As I continued promoting
Passione
round the world, the successes kept coming. With Julz at my side, we headed off to New Zealand and Australia, where I achieved a second number one in the former and a top-five album in the latter. Promotional tours can throw up some funny moments, and this was no exception. I was appearing on
Sunrise
, Australia's main weekday breakfast show, when the host asked if Julz was with me. Bearing in mind that it was not long after six in the morning
and Julz hadn't been made up, honesty may not have been the best policy.

“Of course,” I replied, “she's at the back of the studio.”

The host's reaction was to call Julz to the set, where she stood behind me and made a motion to strangle me from behind. This got a great reaction both in the studio and from viewers at home, who sent her lots of messages of support.

From down under, we made our way to Canada and the United States. In New York, I was met by a film crew who wanted to show me round the city. I did an interview at the stunning Grand Central Terminal and while filming outside, was interrupted by a passing taxi driver.

“Hey, man!” he shouted out of his window. “I love your voice!”

New Yorkers have a formidable reputation for being hard to please, so it felt strange but amazing to be recognised in this way in such a big city.

I had to think on my feet during live interviews, and none more than on a local New York City TV station.

“It's a poignant moment for you to release an album around Mother's Day,” the presenter said, “since your mum died a few years ago.”

I was somewhat taken aback.

“Actually, when I spoke to my mum a few days ago,” I corrected, “she was very much alive and well.”

I had another early morning performance on the
Today
show, as well as appearances on
Good Morning America, Fox and Friends
, and
Oprah
again. It was an absolute honour to be invited
back to perform on Oprah's show, especially as this was a show dedicated to her favourites. I performed a half-English, half-Italian version of “Memory.”

Around this time, another
Britain's Got Talent
success story was starting back home. A middle-aged lady by the name of Susan Boyle had performed at the auditions in Glasgow and astounded the judges and the country with her rendition of “I Dreamed a Dream.” I was asked about Susan in many interviews across the world as I went round promoting
Passione
. I was really happy that another person had been given the opportunity to change her life in the same way I had.
Britain's Got Talent
was proving to the world that it was giving people undreamed of opportunities. At the same time, I was aware that my show had taken place over a single week, whereas for Susan it would be over several weeks. I hoped she would cope with the pressure, and in an across-the-world interview, with me in Sydney and Susan in London for NBC in New York, I advised her to try and take it one day at a time.

After North America and more promotion across Europe, it was time for me to return to
Britain's Got Talent
. I had been asked to perform during one of the semi-final shows—my first time back on the show that had started it all for me. I was very aware of this, and when I was asked to rehearse my performance of “La Prima Volta” for the fifth time, my manager Vibica asked me whether I really wanted to. I preferred not to, as I feared giving my best performance in rehearsal, but at the same time I was desperate to perform well, so I went ahead.

Sure enough, I gave a really good rendition in this final rehearsal, which left me concerned I wouldn't be able to match
it in the actual performance. When my time came to perform, nerves took over a little in the first half of the song; it took me half the song to fully get into it. I was bitterly disappointed in my performance, so it was great to hear Ant and Dec say, “Good ol' Pottsy!” after I'd finished.

The year continued apace. I went on a second world tour, which was pretty much as extensive as the first. Once again, there were many highlights: I performed in front of thirty-five thousand people in Seoul, and I don't think I'd ever seen so many people in one place; in Japan, I did a special performance of “Cavatina” for Julz, and read a surprise poem I'd written for her; I also headlined for the first time at the Royal Albert Hall.

As the end of the year approached, I was doing a Christmas tour in Norway and Sweden when I found myself going down with a heavy cold that was very close to laryngitis. Scandinavia is beautiful in the approach to Christmas, with an understated jingle of festivity. I couldn't enjoy it this time, however, as I had to stay wrapped up indoors because of the heavy cold. It couldn't have been worse timing, as my next performance, in Leipzig, was for the José Carreras Gala for Leukaemia Research.

I was desperate to perform for one of my childhood idols. I saw a doctor who gave me the once-over and banned me from flying, so we were forced to travel from Oslo to Leipzig by train. I kept myself going with good doses of hot water, lemon, and honey, and gave what I considered to be a reasonable performance of the wonderful operetta aria “Dein Ist Mein Ganzes Herz.” I had a short chat with José after the performance; he told me that since he'd first heard me at the same event two years earlier,
I had made great progress and that I had a lovely instrument. I was honoured to get such a warm response.

Back home, decisions had been made about my future, and one of them was that my next album wouldn't be coming from Syco. There had been no fallout at all, just a mutual business decision. I kept in touch with the team at Syco, as they had become friends, not just colleagues. I was pleased that my management had faith in me and that even after leaving Syco, my singing career would go on.

I was excited about starting a new project where I would actually own the music I was producing. This brought independence and freedom, and with that of course came risk and responsibility. I had always planned that my next album would be based around music from the movies, so I spent some time in Scotland, walking through the beautiful landscape and immersed in soundtracks, looking for possible music to record. I interviewed potential producers to work with and made the decision to go with renowned film score producer Simon Franglen.

I chose the tracks carefully, and sung the languages based on how the music spoke to me. I still felt that the second album had been held back slightly by its sole use of Italian. Now it was my decision. I wanted to keep
Cinema Paradiso
, my third album, as approachable as possible. The tracks included pieces from
Breakfast at Tiffany's, Titanic
, and
The Godfather
. The most challenging track for me was Ryiuchi Sakamoto's “Forbidden Colours,” which originally featured on the soundtrack to
Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence
. The accompaniment seemed to be
deliberately working against me, and I made a few adjustments of my own to make it come together. It is now one of the favourite songs I have ever performed.

My third album wasn't to be my only link with the cinema. I had been approached by various people about the possibility of making a film based on my life story. These included Brad Weston and Mike Menchel, who had first spoken to me when they were at Paramount studios. As often happens with film projects, the movie had been mothballed and resurrected several times.

This time, though, things were different. I went over to Los Angeles and had a meeting with Brad, Mike, and Justin Zackham, who had written a screenplay. They had great news for me. Despite all the problems, they felt there was every chance the film would go ahead.

“It's a story that has to be told,” they said to me, and it was difficult not to be inspired by their belief in the project.

Brad and Mike explained that they had found a renowned director to take the project on: David Frankel, who was responsible for movies like
Marley and Me
and
The Devil Wears Prada
. The number of Hollywood films that never get made is endless, but for the first time it really looked like the movie was going to happen.

I travelled the world again to promote
Cinema Paradiso
. On 31 December 2010, I performed at the Brandenburg Gate as part of Berlin's New Year celebrations. With fireworks going off behind me, I sang “Nessun Dorma” in front of a crowd of over a million people. It was such an honour to take part in a New Year event in such a great city. To perform in front of so many people meant that although the temperatures were at minus 12 degrees Celsius, I felt huge warmth.

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Many countries I have performed in are close to my heart, but in early 2011 two of them in particular were struck by natural disasters. In February 2011, New Zealand was struck by a earthquake around the city of Christchurch. Then in March, an earthquake off the east coast of Japan triggered a deadly tsunami. I was startled by both events, and was moved to help.

I travelled at my own cost to Auckland to perform at a concert to raise money for the victims of the Christchurch earthquake. It was a long, long flight, and was almost in vain. I was put up in a gorgeous house by a man called Seaby, who had made his name in communications. Having the sea air by me, I left the ceiling-to-floor windows open all night. My foreign blood was obviously sweeter to the local mosquitoes, and I got eaten alive. By the eve of the concert, my left ankle was swollen and painful, forcing me to limp.

The next day the ankle was even worse and hot to the touch. I figured it was due to an allergic reaction, but Elizabeth Marvelly, who had organised the concert, took me to North Bay Hospital to get it checked out. It turned out to be cellulitis, which if left untreated can lead to septicaemia, and even be fatal. The doctor knew why I was in the country, and told me that ordinarily they would admit me for a few days to keep me under observation. She decided to make an exception, provided I took some powerful antibiotics and there were no adverse reactions.

The problem was, as I have said before, that I am a pincushion when it comes to needles. I'm not afraid of them, but my veins appear to be terrified and go away and hide. After an hour, it looked like I wasn't going to be able to perform. Then the hospital
found someone from the intensive care unit who was used to working with patients with veins like mine. He struck gold, or rather blood. It turned out that this doctor was on his first day back at work after losing his mother in the earthquake. I dedicated “Nessun Dorma” to him that evening.

Following the New Zealand earthquake and tsunami in Japan, many foreign acts had cancelled their concerts—as many as 75 percent had decided not to travel. I was determined to go, however, if the local authorities said it was safe. Many fans were concerned, but I felt that to turn my back on people who had given me support for the last four years amounted to rejection. I felt very strongly that both New Zealand and Japan needed not only sympathy, but to have people start visiting there again, to bring in tourist dollars. I wanted to show a good example, so I travelled to Japan to perform as planned. I sang with the Yomiuri Symphony Orchestra in Tokyo, Yokohama, and Osaka; the orchestra was incredible, and I had the privilege of performing with them again in 2012.

While I was abroad again, this time on one of several tours of South Korea, shooting had started back in Europe on the film based on my life:
One Chance
. For all Brad's and Mike's confidence, I still couldn't quite believe it was actually happening. As part of his research for the film, I had taken director David Frankel round to some of the main sites of my life in Wales. We visited the church where Julz and I got married and the branch of Carphone Warehouse where I'd worked.

David also met our own version of Marley (of the film
Marley & Me
)—Caesar, who is every bit as incorrigible as Marley himself.
We got Caesar in December 2011. He was tiny, like a miniscule polar bear. Julz was desperate to get him as quickly as possible, so we drove over to Llangorse, close to Brecon, to pick him up. Even today, he is a big baby and often sings along to my performance of the
Godfather
theme. David immediately fell in love with Caesar, and Caesar loved him right back.

When the film locations were changed from Venice (for the Italian scenes) to the slightly less salubrious Port Talbot, I did my best to be available but unseen. There is nothing worse than to have someone observing you working all the time. I felt it best to leave James Corden, who had been chosen to play me, to get on with the job at hand.