Love Me Tenor

What makes Bocelli feel good, however, doesn't have a whole lot to do with marketing strategies. ''If tomorrow the success goes away for me, it is not a problem,'' he says. ''I could read, because I love very much to read books. Before I had success I read a lot, and now I don't find the time.'' Surrounded by a swirl of voices and hands at one Manhattan meet-and-greet, he looks almost crumpled with exhaustion. ''It's tiring for me, the confusion,'' he later admits. ''When I am in a room that's very noisy, this is tiring for me. Maybe this is one of the reasons why I love classical music and not rock or rap. Because I don't love the noise, the chaos.''

Luckily, on the day after Rosie, Bocelli and his entourage have a free morning to shop. As he steps out onto 54th Street, he's clearly thrilled to leave the chaos behind; he jokes and sings and talks about buying gifts for his wife, Enrica, and their two sons, Amos, 3, and Matteo, 6 months. ''For Amos I will buy a beeg egg for Easter,'' Bocelli says, stretching his arms a few feet apart. ''Beeg chocolate egg I want to buy for him—beeg like this!''

Stroll around Manhattan with Bocelli and it's clear just how casual he prefers his life to be. (At noon he's supposed to do an interview with Mexican TV, but at noon he's still shopping for Verdi and Puccini at Tower Records. ''I like,'' Bocelli says, ''to improvise my days.'') On the arm of his translator he roams down Fifth Avenue, through an aural and olfactory maze of cement mixers and whistles, car horns and hot tar, pretzel stands and hip-hop beats. ''Too noisy,'' he says. He wanders into the space-age wonderland of NikeTown, where he runs his fingers over the rubber soles and puffy air pockets of the sneakers. When Bocelli's outside again, a woman asks him for an autograph. ''Vee come from Germany,'' she says. ''Oh, sank you, sir. Sank you so much.''

Finally, Bocelli and his entourage make their way into Central Park. The noise drops off, a breeze floats by, and for the first time today, Bocelli seems truly at ease. ''Here is beautiful,'' he whispers. ''Here is beautiful.'' As he passes by a skating rink, he starts to sing. Heads turn. This time, though, the song is neither aria nor Europop, but a tune made famous by the undisputed king of Italian-American crossover: Frank Sinatra. Hell, it might as well be the unofficial theme song to the Andrea Bocelli marketing juggernaut itself. ''When somebody loves you, it's no good unless they love you, all the way...''