Politics & Power Quote by Jose Carreras

Carreras saying he’s “always been a big fan of the American soul sound” is a small sentence that quietly rearranges the map of what people think he is. This is the tenor most audiences file under opera’s gilded seriousness: bel canto, grand stages, old-world prestige. “Soul” cuts across that image with a different set of values - groove, grit, intimacy, the voice as lived experience rather than polished monument. The intent feels less like name-dropping a genre and more like staking a private allegiance: behind the formal training and the canon, he’s drawn to music that foregrounds feeling and phrasing over perfection.

The subtext is cultural diplomacy. An elite European singer praising an American Black-rooted tradition signals openness, but also a kind of humility: the recognition that vocal authority doesn’t only come from conservatories. “Fan” matters, too. He doesn’t claim ownership or expertise; he positions himself as a listener first, which softens the potential tension of crossing genre lines. It’s admiration without colonizing.

Contextually, it fits the late-20th-century era when classical stars increasingly stepped outside the opera house - crossover albums, televised mega-concerts, charity spectacles - partly to expand audiences, partly to prove range. In that landscape, “American soul” becomes shorthand for emotional directness, a corrective to the stereotype of classical singing as remote. For Carreras, it’s also a subtle argument: the human voice is one instrument, and sincerity is a technique as real as any high note.