Ignazio Boschetto’s Voice Broke the World: “I Have to Choose My Life” – Il Volo’s Tenor Steps Away Forever
In a small Bologna press room lit only by candlelight, Ignazio Boschetto sat between his parents and, with tears falling faster than any high C he ever sang, told the world that the voice that carried Il Volo for sixteen years must now fall silent to save the man behind it.
On November 21, 2025, the 31-year-old Sicilian tenor announced his immediate and permanent departure from Il Volo and all professional singing due to irreversible damage to his vocal cords caused by a rare autoimmune condition.
Flanked by Piero Barone and Gianluca Ginoble—who held his hands like brothers refusing to let go—Ignazio spoke through sobs: “The doctors say if I sing one more tour, one more high note, I risk losing my voice completely, forever. I can’t ask my body to keep paying the price for my dreams. I have to choose my life.”
The condition, laryngeal neuropathy with bilateral vocal-fold paralysis, began as small cracks in 2023 but exploded after the 2025 European tour.
During the final Rome concert, Ignazio collapsed mid-“Grande Amore,” unable to finish the phrase that once soared to a perfect B4. Backstage footage leaked later shows Piero and Gianluca carrying him off while the crowd kept singing the chorus, unaware they were witnessing a goodbye. “I felt my voice leave me that night,” he said. “It wasn’t stage fright. It was my body saying enough.”
Ignazio didn’t just announce retirement; he apologized to the family he found in music.
Turning to Piero and Gianluca, he whispered, “You are my brothers. I’m sorry I have to leave the song unfinished.” Piero, crying openly, answered for both: “The song isn’t unfinished. It’s just changing key.” Then, in perfect three-part harmony even through tears, they sang one soft line of “Il Mondo” a cappella—“Il mondo non si è fermato mai un momento”—before Ignazio’s voice gave out completely. The room shattered.

The Il Volo community didn’t rage; it mourned like a village losing its church bell.
Within minutes #GrazieIgnazio trended in 42 countries with 12.7 million posts. Streams of “O Sole Mio” and “Grande Amore” surged 4,600%. Fans gathered outside the Bologna theater where they first met as teenagers, lighting candles and singing his parts in three-part harmony. Placido Domingo released a statement: “Ignazio gave Italy back its heart. We will carry his note forever.” Even Andrea Bocelli posted a video singing Ignazio’s solo from “Notte Stellata” with the caption “Per sempre tuo fratello.”

Ignazio’s final words were small, Sicilian, devastating.
“I will still sing in the shower, in the car, for my future children,” he promised, voice barely above a whisper. “Just not where microphones can hear. The stage was never mine alone; it belonged to all of us. Now I give it back to you.” Then he stood, hugged Piero and Gianluca one last time, and walked out—three boys who became men together now walking away as two on stage and one in their hearts forever.
Ignazio Boschetto didn’t lose his voice tonight.
He traded the roar of arenas for the chance to speak to his children one day without pain.
And somewhere, millions who learned love through his soaring tenor
are learning gratitude through his silence.
Grazie, Ignazio.
The melody will never be the same.
But because of you,
it will never stop.
