Nata ad Asti, si dedica dapprima allo studio del pianoforte e poi al canto.
Dopo aver vinto alcuni concorsi per giovani voci nel 1990 debutta alla Scala come protagonista nella Traviata di Giuseppe Verdi diretta dal Maestro R. Muti (incisa per la Sony Classical).
Viene definita “la traviata” degli anni novanta. Interpreta il ruolo di Violetta, innumerevoli volte, nei più importanti teatri al mondo (New York, Vienna, Berlino, Amburgo, Monaco di Baviera, Tel Aviv, Tokyo, etc.)
Il grande successo le apre le porte di un’importante carriera internazionale.
Canta in tutti i teatri piu’ grandi del mondo, dedicandosi anche ad una pregevole attivita’ concertistica.
Lavora sotto la direzione di importanti direttori d’orchestra fra i quali Claudio Abbado, Peter Maag, Zubin Metha, Antonio Pappano, Riccardo Chailly, etc.
Altri importanti successi la vedono protagonista di opere come: Il Turco in Italia, Il Viaggio a Reims, La Muta di Portici, Lucia di Lammermoor, Ivanhoe, La Bohème, La Serva Padrona, Una partita a scacchi, Don Giovanni, Anna Bolena, Maria Stuarda, Messa da Requiem di Verdi, Macbeth, Attila, Arianna in Nasso di Porpora, La poetessa idrofoba, Un avvertimento ai gelosi, Ernani, Tosca, Manon Lescaut di Puccini, Cavalleria Rusticana, Pagliacci, Adriana Lecouvreur, Il Giro di Vite, La Medium, Marta e Maria, La Voix humaine, Jenufa, La Napoli Milionaria, Nûr, Carmen.
Oltre a La Traviata si segnalano le incisioni su CD di Attila, Arianna in Nasso, e i DVD Buon Compleanno Maestro Verdi, galà 2004 e Napoli Milionaria.
Da alcuni anni si dedica all’insegnamento del perfezionamento musicale ed interpretativo in alcune accademie musicali italiane.
The worst case of diva-bashing I know of -- it just breaks my heart -- is Fabbricini, who, I think, is a very, very great artist. Certainly the greatest Lucia and the greatest Traviata I've seen in my life. But people who've never heard her talk viciously about her. I don't know what it is. People reviewing her go beyond professionalism and make these nasty personal remarks. And, yet, Jessye Norman can do her cow act -- unmusical, and unexpressive, and just plain bad singing -- and nobody says a word. They just applaud. I don't get it. Why Miss Fabbricini, become such a target for such unbridled hatred? I don't get it.
I could even see an excuse being made in the case of, say, a Scotto -- that she sang a lot in New York; sometimes in repertoire that people thought she was a little questionable in.
But Fabbricini has sung three Traviatas here in New York, the three Lucias in Houston and two Traviatas in California. And that's it. Now, how could all these people hate her? They certainly can't hate her from her one recording, which is the most fantastic video of Traviata I think we'll ever have. Where does all this hatred come from? It's scary.
I think critics don't know how to react. They're disturbed by the unexpected.
You should go back and read the initial reviews of some of Maria's albums, that are now held in awe.
That no one could think to criticize, now.
She got blasted right and left. She was a strong woman, and she had EMI behind her, and her husband backing her. That kept her going through some of the rough periods. But Fabbricini — it just kills me. We could be having so much from this woman, one of the towering great artists of today. Organasova was to have sung Lucia in Houston. She cancelled at the very last moment, and that's when Gockley brought in Fabbricini. It was a horrible production, like Lucia staged in a Rome subway stop. But, by chance -- it was on a Saturday I went down. Before I left that afternoon there was a broadcast of Lucia with Miss Devia. Uh-huh -- that's lovely, that's nice. Oh, I wish she had done that. Oh, well, yeah -- but she didn't carry that part. A lovely performance -- but not an ideal performance. That evening I heard a Lucia that was so revelatory that I would not have changed a single note of it. Every note was exactly what it should be. I went out the next day in Houston and bought a ticket for the next performance and flew back on my own. I said, "This couldn't be what I heard. I've got to go hear it again." And, if anything, the second performance was even better. Yet this first performance was the one that Bernard Holland in the Times tore to shreds. I've known Bernie a long time. I saw him at the intermission, but I didn't talk performance with him -- there are very few of my colleagues you really can talk with. As we were walking back in he said to me, he said, "Isn't it a tragedy? This pathetic girl who has no voice, and gets up and tries to sing a role like Lucia. And she's so off-pitch, and this and that." I said, "Bernie, I think it's the single greatest Lucia I've ever heard in my life, and I'd be grateful to hear it anytime." That's the extent of the exchange, and it was not hostile. But the next day Bernie said in his review that he was "violently attacked by a local critic."
I thought, boy, if you want to know what "violently attacked" is really get me mad. And then I was at the Traviata out in California. My old buddy and good friend Martin Bernheimer said in his review in the LA Times that Fabbricini reminded him of Florence Foster Jenkins. The big difference was Florence Foster was funny, and Fabbricini wasn't. Now, that's not criticism. That's a cheap shot, and I told Martin so. I was at the same performance and I was in tears.