In a 1965 live concert such a young, slim and fresh-faced lad, with something of the features of cousin Velo. What was noticeable again, apart from a voice which in this untutored listener’s opinion was still unformed and not come into its full power, is the almost perfect rigidity of body throughout. Only at one point at a moment of a swelling note do the arms rise almost imperceptibly from the side for the flight. Otherwise the whole of the being is concentrated in the controlled breath and its emissions. All this in what at that age must still have been an uncomfortable monkey suit for the baker’s boy. The artist completely and utterly immersed. Beauty, grace and order of the highest human possibility exemplified. In his manner too at the end modestly bowing at the warm reception from the audience, taking the hand of the conductor respectfully, getting himself off briskly afterward, all finest measure, marvellously attained. Ko pjeva zlo ne misli, they held up in our Montenegrin hills. Who sings bears no evil. Even at those heights and in their huts shared with the animals, with only their single stringed gusle, they knew something of these matters.
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