The AP has released a news item detailing new cost-cutting measures taken at the Met. One unfortunate consequence of the economic measures is that the Met will not revive John Corigliano's 1991 smash hit, "Ghosts of Versailles." Instead, the Met will cast Angela Gheorghiu and Thomas Hampson in a staid production of "La Traviata."
I was just starting back on my Masters when "Ghosts" was released. I remember watching the broadcast debut on PBS and being stunned, not only with Corigliano's command of the 20th century orchestral and operatic oeuvres but with the vastness of the production... not to mention wanting to be the first to sing "The Worm" for solo class at UT. (Never did, btw.) I also was working in the UT Music Library, where we had just received a video recording--it may have even been on laser disc--of "Ghosts," which I quickly purloined to rewatch in the back room of the library when I wasn't working or in class. "Ghosts" was the talk of the opera studio back then.
I can understand the Met's reticence to mount such a vast production, probably rivaling that of their recent "Flute" in opulence and grandeur. How many opera productions call for a giant mechanically operated robotic sultanate to serve as a major character? Then there's the period French dress, not to mention carloads of choristers and supers, and probably an equally huge number of IATSE crew. Of course, Corigliano throws a mighty 20th-century style orchestra in the pit. (Contrabassoonists and all ilk of bass clarinet players rejoice!)
But, still, it would have been great to see "Ghosts" mounted in a production equal to its original intentions. It definitely blurred the line between opera and musical theater, not that that hadn't been done a thousand times already. But unlike so many operas and operettas since the dawn of the 20th c., which were basically theater pieces aspiring to opera, Corigliano started from a position of grand opera and then added musical theater features to make it more accessible while keeping artistic the original artistic integrity.
I'm sure "Traviata" will be well-received and well-performed, though.
However, one must ponder: If the premiere opera companies of the world are having to make major cutbacks such as this one, what does that bode for the coming seasons of struggling regional companies like the KO?
Friday, November 14, 2008
Friday, November 7, 2008
The Met goes tech again
Caught this New York Times article about the production of Berlioz's "Damnation of Faust," touted to be the Met's first "interactive opera." Interactive how? Well, imagine singers on stage controlling lighting, sets, and all kinds of special effects merely by their movement and/or voice.
A stage director's nightmare? Maybe... Consider how theater is staged today: Actors (I use "actors" as a generic term to include singers) act on stage; a stage manager in the wings observes the action and dialog and calls light cues, set movements and/or changes, cues for sound Foley (e.g., thunder), warns actors and chorus of their entrances, and a hundred other things. But there's an often perceptible delay between when she calls a cue and when the actual operation happens. Ideally, she tries to call the cues far enough in advance to account for the delay, but anytime you're dealing with human processes, there is variability.
Imagine, however, the stage of the future: An infrared sensor picks up an actor's movement--say, an arm in the air--and sends a signal to a central computer system with specialized software that interprets that signal to cue lighting (e.g., lightning), sound (thunder), or a set piece (a wind machine). Because the computer can "talk" to all the systems faster than any human every could, the actions are, for all intents and purposes, to our "slow" eyes and ears, simultaneous. Better yet, the sensors can interpret how the actor's arm is moving. Perhaps he lowers it, signaling the lightning and thunder to abate slightly so he can deliver a line, and then throws it back into the air, signaling another crescendo in the storm.
Don't get the idea that this technology will ever supplant the stage manager. There are still stupid actors who don't know their cues to push out on stage, choruses to call to the wings, and ten thousand other things that humans, so far, do better than computers. However, this kind of technology can do what technology is usually invented to do: take some of the drudgery out of a task. For predictable processes, the machine can handle them. This leaves the stage manager free to deal with things that are more problematic (e.g., wigs caught on epaulets). Of course, she also must ensure that the technology works as it should and be prepared to take over should anything go wrong.
Technology we take for granted geeks call "ubiquitous." We don't have to think about how much gas to put into the carburetor of our cars to faster, we just push on the gas pedal and electromechanical systems do the rest. We don't have to stand by the coffeemaker to switch it off at the end of a brew cycle, it knows when there's no water left in the reservoir. We don't have to tell the television to tune to 79.25 megahertz to get channel 6, it knows that already. Just as we don't think about these technologies working, we may someday take it for granted that an automated spotlight will follow an actor around the stage or that the gels will all turn red when the devil appears or that the curtain will fall at the end of an act. We won't have to think about it, it will just happen.
A stage director's nightmare? Maybe... Consider how theater is staged today: Actors (I use "actors" as a generic term to include singers) act on stage; a stage manager in the wings observes the action and dialog and calls light cues, set movements and/or changes, cues for sound Foley (e.g., thunder), warns actors and chorus of their entrances, and a hundred other things. But there's an often perceptible delay between when she calls a cue and when the actual operation happens. Ideally, she tries to call the cues far enough in advance to account for the delay, but anytime you're dealing with human processes, there is variability.
Imagine, however, the stage of the future: An infrared sensor picks up an actor's movement--say, an arm in the air--and sends a signal to a central computer system with specialized software that interprets that signal to cue lighting (e.g., lightning), sound (thunder), or a set piece (a wind machine). Because the computer can "talk" to all the systems faster than any human every could, the actions are, for all intents and purposes, to our "slow" eyes and ears, simultaneous. Better yet, the sensors can interpret how the actor's arm is moving. Perhaps he lowers it, signaling the lightning and thunder to abate slightly so he can deliver a line, and then throws it back into the air, signaling another crescendo in the storm.
Don't get the idea that this technology will ever supplant the stage manager. There are still stupid actors who don't know their cues to push out on stage, choruses to call to the wings, and ten thousand other things that humans, so far, do better than computers. However, this kind of technology can do what technology is usually invented to do: take some of the drudgery out of a task. For predictable processes, the machine can handle them. This leaves the stage manager free to deal with things that are more problematic (e.g., wigs caught on epaulets). Of course, she also must ensure that the technology works as it should and be prepared to take over should anything go wrong.
Technology we take for granted geeks call "ubiquitous." We don't have to think about how much gas to put into the carburetor of our cars to faster, we just push on the gas pedal and electromechanical systems do the rest. We don't have to stand by the coffeemaker to switch it off at the end of a brew cycle, it knows when there's no water left in the reservoir. We don't have to tell the television to tune to 79.25 megahertz to get channel 6, it knows that already. Just as we don't think about these technologies working, we may someday take it for granted that an automated spotlight will follow an actor around the stage or that the gels will all turn red when the devil appears or that the curtain will fall at the end of an act. We won't have to think about it, it will just happen.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Obama and Opera
So, on the dawn of the day that the great diaspora known as the Bush Administration ("Administration," Ha! At least Nero fiddled while Rome burned!) is seeing its final days, I got to thinking:
Obama... opera.
Could there be a connection there, somewhere? Does our new prez-elect like opera? What does he think about it? What's his policy going to be on the Fine Arts?
So, like most i-idiots today, I googled "Obama opera."
What did I find? Well, what I found made me hope that Obama makes education a priority in our country.
The top link said "MySpace Videos: Obama and Opera by AAM." I should've red-flagged anything prefixed with "MySpace" as being spurious, but since this was an entirely unscientific experiment, merely relying on serendipity to yield its results, I went ahead and clicked.
Obviously, the video was of a rally, apparently in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. There were several people standing on a dais surrounded by a rowdy crowd of Obamanites. "Okay," I was thinking to myself, "some opera singer sang the National Anthem or something." Then Obama himself came up to the dais and began speaking. After a minute or two, I skimmed further through the video to find the part where the opera singer came in.
No such luck. No singing on that video. It was then that I noticed a rather portly African American woman on the dais with Obama. "Leontyne Price?" I thought. No. Though the video was a bit grainy, I could still see it wasn't Ms. Price. Kiri, maybe? No.
Finally I did recognize the person: It was Oprah!
Alright, so MySpace people aren't the brightest bulbs on the tree. Apparently, some folks were equally confused over on Yahoo, too. I suppose that I should forgive these (I'm assuming) kids or, perhaps, non-native speakers. After all, Oprah wasn't even supposed to be named Oprah. Oprah's given name was supposed to be the Biblical name "Orpah" (Ruth 1:4), but everybody apparently had a hard time pronouncing and spelling that in her native Mississippi.
So, no direct links between Obama/Biden and opera. But, I'm sure there's some greedy little composer in his parents' basement right now writing "Obama: The Opera." Don't be surprised when it comes out. Look for it at the Met in 2012.
FYI, a pdf of Obama/Biden's platform on the arts can be found here.
Obama... opera.
Could there be a connection there, somewhere? Does our new prez-elect like opera? What does he think about it? What's his policy going to be on the Fine Arts?
So, like most i-idiots today, I googled "Obama opera."
What did I find? Well, what I found made me hope that Obama makes education a priority in our country.
The top link said "MySpace Videos: Obama and Opera by AAM." I should've red-flagged anything prefixed with "MySpace" as being spurious, but since this was an entirely unscientific experiment, merely relying on serendipity to yield its results, I went ahead and clicked.
Obviously, the video was of a rally, apparently in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. There were several people standing on a dais surrounded by a rowdy crowd of Obamanites. "Okay," I was thinking to myself, "some opera singer sang the National Anthem or something." Then Obama himself came up to the dais and began speaking. After a minute or two, I skimmed further through the video to find the part where the opera singer came in.
No such luck. No singing on that video. It was then that I noticed a rather portly African American woman on the dais with Obama. "Leontyne Price?" I thought. No. Though the video was a bit grainy, I could still see it wasn't Ms. Price. Kiri, maybe? No.
Finally I did recognize the person: It was Oprah!
Alright, so MySpace people aren't the brightest bulbs on the tree. Apparently, some folks were equally confused over on Yahoo, too. I suppose that I should forgive these (I'm assuming) kids or, perhaps, non-native speakers. After all, Oprah wasn't even supposed to be named Oprah. Oprah's given name was supposed to be the Biblical name "Orpah" (Ruth 1:4), but everybody apparently had a hard time pronouncing and spelling that in her native Mississippi.
So, no direct links between Obama/Biden and opera. But, I'm sure there's some greedy little composer in his parents' basement right now writing "Obama: The Opera." Don't be surprised when it comes out. Look for it at the Met in 2012.
FYI, a pdf of Obama/Biden's platform on the arts can be found here.
Monday, November 3, 2008
"Who's the new guy?"
No doubt, anyone paying attention during rehearsals for the recent Glitterville Gala noticed that there was a new face in the crowd in the orchestra. That new face is none other than associate concertmaster, Edward Pulgar. The Knoxville News Sentinel ran a story on him in this morning's edition under the rather uninspired title, "Government put music in his soul." Although, from the title, you might think that maestro Pulgars's violin prowess might have come about as the result of a DARPA experiment gone horribly wrong, the article is referring to the government of his home country, Venezuela.
Starting in the 1970s, a time when America's government had begun cutting Fine Arts programs to save money, the Venezuelan government saw fit to fund an ambitious program of classical music instruction for all of its children, especially those in the impoverished inner city, through the establishment of neighborhood music schools and the formation of local youth orchestras. The idea behind the program is that music can be both an escape and a way out of poverty for some of these kids.
Perhaps what is even more startling is that the Venezuelan government has kept funding "El Sistema" (The System) to this day. Along the way, it has produced crop after crop of talented and highly trained orchestral musicians and conductors which the world's orchestras have adoringly lapped up. A recent 60 Minutes video article (videarticle?) chronicled the rise of one of these young stars, conductor Gustavo Dudamel.
Knoxville has been the lucky recipient of El Sistema in the form of Edward Pulgar. He will be performing with other members of the KSO Principal Quartet (Sean Claire, Kathryn Gawne and Andy Bryenton) next Sunday at 2:30 pm at the Bijou Theater.
Thank goodness there's at least one government that cherishes classical music, eh? The United States continues to head down the path of eradication of all Fine Arts programs in all its schools under the auspices that our kids need more math and science. There are currently just two orchestral programs in Knox County schools, and those are poorly funded. The minimization of general music classes keeps kids from experiencing classical music, which, in turn, keeps the vast majority of them from continuing their studies. Thus, choral, orchestral, and band programs begin to wither away for lack of students.
"But just look at the Japanese and the Chinese," proponents of the art diaspora say, "our kids can't compete with them unless we bolster our math and science programs." Really? Have you checked out the ethnicity of many of the orchestras around the world. Seems there's a definite Asian faction there. So, somehow, the Chinese and Japanese manage to teach their kids math and science and music... oh, and don't forget, most of them have taken English their whole lives and can speak the language better than most native Anglophiles. Anata wa Nihon o hanashi masuka, America Iie? No?
Well, maybe your kids will do better in Venezuela. Most American high schools still teach Spanish, I think.
Starting in the 1970s, a time when America's government had begun cutting Fine Arts programs to save money, the Venezuelan government saw fit to fund an ambitious program of classical music instruction for all of its children, especially those in the impoverished inner city, through the establishment of neighborhood music schools and the formation of local youth orchestras. The idea behind the program is that music can be both an escape and a way out of poverty for some of these kids.
Perhaps what is even more startling is that the Venezuelan government has kept funding "El Sistema" (The System) to this day. Along the way, it has produced crop after crop of talented and highly trained orchestral musicians and conductors which the world's orchestras have adoringly lapped up. A recent 60 Minutes video article (videarticle?) chronicled the rise of one of these young stars, conductor Gustavo Dudamel.
Knoxville has been the lucky recipient of El Sistema in the form of Edward Pulgar. He will be performing with other members of the KSO Principal Quartet (Sean Claire, Kathryn Gawne and Andy Bryenton) next Sunday at 2:30 pm at the Bijou Theater.
Thank goodness there's at least one government that cherishes classical music, eh? The United States continues to head down the path of eradication of all Fine Arts programs in all its schools under the auspices that our kids need more math and science. There are currently just two orchestral programs in Knox County schools, and those are poorly funded. The minimization of general music classes keeps kids from experiencing classical music, which, in turn, keeps the vast majority of them from continuing their studies. Thus, choral, orchestral, and band programs begin to wither away for lack of students.
"But just look at the Japanese and the Chinese," proponents of the art diaspora say, "our kids can't compete with them unless we bolster our math and science programs." Really? Have you checked out the ethnicity of many of the orchestras around the world. Seems there's a definite Asian faction there. So, somehow, the Chinese and Japanese manage to teach their kids math and science and music... oh, and don't forget, most of them have taken English their whole lives and can speak the language better than most native Anglophiles. Anata wa Nihon o hanashi masuka, America Iie? No?
Well, maybe your kids will do better in Venezuela. Most American high schools still teach Spanish, I think.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Post-Production: Glitterville Gala/Concert
* Tons of people - had a good time; lots of costumes; but ran out of food;
* Concert - well enough
A couple of impressions about last night's KO Glitterville Gala/Concert at the Tennessee Theater:
And how about Stephen Brown's decorations! You know, Halloween is really a kind of low-brow holiday. Other than Christmas, it's probably the easiest holiday to make tacky if you're not careful. Wel, duh! Of course, Stephen Brown's going to be careful! Everything just reeked of classiness. (I have to admit, though, that I didn't get to get too close a look at what all was put out.) Amazing that a kid from Rockwood, which, I'm sure Stephen would admit, isn't exactly a cultural mecca, world go on to be fawned over by companies and well-to-dos world-wide for his taste and style in decorating for special occasions. As I'm sure they would say in Rockwood, "Ya done good thar, boy!"
The concert, likewise, seemed to go okay. As is usually the case with these kinds of things, the chorus kind of forgot their dynamics and fell back on the the old habit of loud-louder-loudest. It's always harder to sing very softly when you, as a performer in front of an audience, let the adrenaline run haywire. It does make for a lively performance, though. I think the "Sweeney Todd" scenes had a lot more energy than any rehearsal we had. Kudos to everyone for not letting that energy get out of hand on the fugal sections. Really easy to do that, too, when you're pumped for a performance.
Oh, well. We put that one to bed. But, ever vigilant, we start "Rigoletto" rehearsals next week. See ya then.
P.S. Like a total spaz, I never could remember my camera; however, Martin brought his and filled up an entire 2 Gb card with photos which he's posting on Flikr. When he gets them up on the web, I'll ask him for a link to them.
* Concert - well enough
A couple of impressions about last night's KO Glitterville Gala/Concert at the Tennessee Theater:
- There was a ton of people there
- Everybody had a great time
- More hors d'oeuvres next time
- I actually have a voice left with which to sing at church this morning
And how about Stephen Brown's decorations! You know, Halloween is really a kind of low-brow holiday. Other than Christmas, it's probably the easiest holiday to make tacky if you're not careful. Wel, duh! Of course, Stephen Brown's going to be careful! Everything just reeked of classiness. (I have to admit, though, that I didn't get to get too close a look at what all was put out.) Amazing that a kid from Rockwood, which, I'm sure Stephen would admit, isn't exactly a cultural mecca, world go on to be fawned over by companies and well-to-dos world-wide for his taste and style in decorating for special occasions. As I'm sure they would say in Rockwood, "Ya done good thar, boy!"
The concert, likewise, seemed to go okay. As is usually the case with these kinds of things, the chorus kind of forgot their dynamics and fell back on the the old habit of loud-louder-loudest. It's always harder to sing very softly when you, as a performer in front of an audience, let the adrenaline run haywire. It does make for a lively performance, though. I think the "Sweeney Todd" scenes had a lot more energy than any rehearsal we had. Kudos to everyone for not letting that energy get out of hand on the fugal sections. Really easy to do that, too, when you're pumped for a performance.
Oh, well. We put that one to bed. But, ever vigilant, we start "Rigoletto" rehearsals next week. See ya then.
P.S. Like a total spaz, I never could remember my camera; however, Martin brought his and filled up an entire 2 Gb card with photos which he's posting on Flikr. When he gets them up on the web, I'll ask him for a link to them.
Friday, October 31, 2008
"Phantom" facts (or why you'll never see it at the Tennessee)
My apologies for not writing sooner. The world has been "too much with [me]" lately, and not just in learning the "Mefistofele." Had a couple of great articles in my head but couldn't get them down on paper.
Caught this article on the St. Petersburg Times' website about the touring show of "Phantom of the Opera." The author offers some interesting facts about the original phantom and tech specs about the current production.
It's always interesting to see what it takes to put on a real touring show, how they do what they do the same way every city, every show. Of particular note: the amount of time it takes to set up production: a full 10 days! And 20 truckloads of trappings! I remember when I was a teenager my high school band would sell fruit for the fall. (And, yes, Farragut High School Band is still selling fruit to this day.) Most of the band (~130 people) along with parents, siblings, friends, etc., was required to unload two tractor trailers full of boxed citrus fruit. By the time evening fell, we were all pretty much exhausted. I can't imagine unloading 20 truckloads of stuff--stuff that isn't nice square rectangles, like fruit boxes.
Something else occurred to me while reading the article. You know, most of us take our guests artists at KO for granted, but they really are special people. Sure, being an opera star is glamorous and rewarding, but it's also a real pain! We see the glamorous side of things--schmoozing with the swells, partying with your costars, invitation-only dinners. What we don't see is them living out of a suitcase for up to 50 weeks a year. We also don't see them having to accustomize themselves to a new bed every six weeks or so. Nor do we see them craving the facilities to make mom's special chili instead of existing off of frou-frou party food. "Touring" means just that; you don't get home much.
Well, tomorrow night's the big gig. Hope everybody's not blowing their chords on these rehearsals. All well and fine to practice hard, but if you've got laryngitis during the performance, it amounts to nil.
Caught this article on the St. Petersburg Times' website about the touring show of "Phantom of the Opera." The author offers some interesting facts about the original phantom and tech specs about the current production.
It's always interesting to see what it takes to put on a real touring show, how they do what they do the same way every city, every show. Of particular note: the amount of time it takes to set up production: a full 10 days! And 20 truckloads of trappings! I remember when I was a teenager my high school band would sell fruit for the fall. (And, yes, Farragut High School Band is still selling fruit to this day.) Most of the band (~130 people) along with parents, siblings, friends, etc., was required to unload two tractor trailers full of boxed citrus fruit. By the time evening fell, we were all pretty much exhausted. I can't imagine unloading 20 truckloads of stuff--stuff that isn't nice square rectangles, like fruit boxes.
Something else occurred to me while reading the article. You know, most of us take our guests artists at KO for granted, but they really are special people. Sure, being an opera star is glamorous and rewarding, but it's also a real pain! We see the glamorous side of things--schmoozing with the swells, partying with your costars, invitation-only dinners. What we don't see is them living out of a suitcase for up to 50 weeks a year. We also don't see them having to accustomize themselves to a new bed every six weeks or so. Nor do we see them craving the facilities to make mom's special chili instead of existing off of frou-frou party food. "Touring" means just that; you don't get home much.
Well, tomorrow night's the big gig. Hope everybody's not blowing their chords on these rehearsals. All well and fine to practice hard, but if you've got laryngitis during the performance, it amounts to nil.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Reunion '08
I've been trying since Tuesday to write a blurb about how I think most people in the KO chorus are there for the social aspect of things, but the article kept getting blown up by my ADD, so I thought I'd start afresh today.
So, yes, KO choristers do get paid (a little) to do the opera chorus thing and, yes, we are all interested in creating the best possible artistic product we can and, yes, we all get a kick out of being on stage. But the thing that keeps most choristers coming back time and again is the people in the chorus and in the KO organization, in general. They're just a terrific bunch of people! Even though the heart and soul of the chorus changes yearly, or even during each production, it still is made up of a bunch of swells that you won't find anywhere else in town. Large construction equipment salesperson? Got him. Teachers? Aplenty. Doctors? Them, too. A sub-phylum of geeks; administrators of various ilk; Protestants, Jews, Catholics, an atheist and agnostic or two, I'm pretty sure; singles, marrieds, married with spouses in the chorus, too; young, old, older than dirt, old but young at heart, young but old at heart; collegians, high school drop-outs, doctors (PhDs), masters (and mistresses). Alright. You probably get the point.
So how do we all work together without killing each other? Oh, occasionally, we'll throw a snobby soprano or two into the pit to be devoured by the Knoxville Symphony Orchestra players--which, incidentally, are people, too... even the bassoonists, who are granted special passes from the asylum on days when we have dress rehearsals or performances, are a part of our family. And we have our differences. A late, difficult rehearsal combined with a bad day at work can cloud the emotional control of anyone. We all have lives outside opera, and while we endeavor to leave them under the canopy on Depot before we enter the KO building, it's impossible not to track in a little anger or frustration from the outside world occasionally. Rest assured, though, that a smile from Big Jim or a hug from Linda is a far more potent cure for what ails you than anything in your psychiatrist's little black bag.
And, yes, while going over an entrance for the fifteenth time singing high Cs double forte can be a lot more work even than a "real" job, we do have fun. Certainly, if we had a little less fun at times our final product would improve, but you could pretty much say that about any company, right? Don, Brian, and whomever is directing give us a rather long leash in that regard, but don't hesitate to rein us in when they need to. And we know it. We know we go too far a lot... a lot!
Thanks to everybody in the company, a bad day rehearsing opera in a warehouse in a seedy part of town is better than a good day at work. Here's to keeping it that way.
So, yes, KO choristers do get paid (a little) to do the opera chorus thing and, yes, we are all interested in creating the best possible artistic product we can and, yes, we all get a kick out of being on stage. But the thing that keeps most choristers coming back time and again is the people in the chorus and in the KO organization, in general. They're just a terrific bunch of people! Even though the heart and soul of the chorus changes yearly, or even during each production, it still is made up of a bunch of swells that you won't find anywhere else in town. Large construction equipment salesperson? Got him. Teachers? Aplenty. Doctors? Them, too. A sub-phylum of geeks; administrators of various ilk; Protestants, Jews, Catholics, an atheist and agnostic or two, I'm pretty sure; singles, marrieds, married with spouses in the chorus, too; young, old, older than dirt, old but young at heart, young but old at heart; collegians, high school drop-outs, doctors (PhDs), masters (and mistresses). Alright. You probably get the point.
So how do we all work together without killing each other? Oh, occasionally, we'll throw a snobby soprano or two into the pit to be devoured by the Knoxville Symphony Orchestra players--which, incidentally, are people, too... even the bassoonists, who are granted special passes from the asylum on days when we have dress rehearsals or performances, are a part of our family. And we have our differences. A late, difficult rehearsal combined with a bad day at work can cloud the emotional control of anyone. We all have lives outside opera, and while we endeavor to leave them under the canopy on Depot before we enter the KO building, it's impossible not to track in a little anger or frustration from the outside world occasionally. Rest assured, though, that a smile from Big Jim or a hug from Linda is a far more potent cure for what ails you than anything in your psychiatrist's little black bag.
And, yes, while going over an entrance for the fifteenth time singing high Cs double forte can be a lot more work even than a "real" job, we do have fun. Certainly, if we had a little less fun at times our final product would improve, but you could pretty much say that about any company, right? Don, Brian, and whomever is directing give us a rather long leash in that regard, but don't hesitate to rein us in when they need to. And we know it. We know we go too far a lot... a lot!
Thanks to everybody in the company, a bad day rehearsing opera in a warehouse in a seedy part of town is better than a good day at work. Here's to keeping it that way.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Disney Releases Costa's "Sleeping Beauty" on hi-def
During production for Oktoberfest last week, I noted that Disney is releasing a new anniversary DVD & Blu-Ray (i.e., hi def) set of its classic cartoon "Sleeping Beauty" which stars Knoxville's (and Knoxville Opera's) own Mary Costa. I wondered how much hoopla they would make of it (other than the constant marketing, that is). Turns out they are. I spotted this bio of Costa (far superior to the one on Wikipedia) that was publicly released by Disney. I knew that Costa had done the voiceover and singing for Aurora, but I didn't realize that Disney had actually patterned Costa's likeness for her character.
"Sleeping Beauty" was one of my all-time favorite Disney movies when I was a kid, partly because I had fallen hopelessly in love with Aurora on the screen. (The evil Queen, and the dragon she turns into at the end of the movie, however, to this day is probably still capable of giving me nightmares.) I haven't seen the movie in over 30 years, though, largely because, as a single, childless guy, I would die of embarrassment renting a Disney cartoon at Blockbuster. (Yeah, I know: The dweebs at the Blockbuster store don't know I'm single and childless. Doesn't matter. I do! Oddly enough, though, I only have the slightest twinge of guilt renting animé. This dichotomy could be several therapy sessions, right there.)
Pity the KO didn't simultaneously schedule a production of Tschaikovsky's "Sleeping Beauty" to try to ride the wave of hype, though.
 Aurora |  Costa |
"Sleeping Beauty" was one of my all-time favorite Disney movies when I was a kid, partly because I had fallen hopelessly in love with Aurora on the screen. (The evil Queen, and the dragon she turns into at the end of the movie, however, to this day is probably still capable of giving me nightmares.) I haven't seen the movie in over 30 years, though, largely because, as a single, childless guy, I would die of embarrassment renting a Disney cartoon at Blockbuster. (Yeah, I know: The dweebs at the Blockbuster store don't know I'm single and childless. Doesn't matter. I do! Oddly enough, though, I only have the slightest twinge of guilt renting animé. This dichotomy could be several therapy sessions, right there.)
Pity the KO didn't simultaneously schedule a production of Tschaikovsky's "Sleeping Beauty" to try to ride the wave of hype, though.
New Template
In looking around on the web, I noticed that this particular blog template is quite popular, so I decided to change mine to match. The old black template I was using looked cool and all, but in terms of readability, this template is much better
Report: KO's Oktoberfest
I have been quite remiss in my duties of reporting on Knoxville Opera productions.
Alas! There hasn't been that much to talk about, really. Last Friday's "Oktoberfest" dinner theater was basically a repeat of last year's celebration, only this year some selections from Romberg's "The New Moon" were added to the program. In trying to Google up some additional information on this year's production, I realized that there wasn't any. Hmm... Do we not have a full-time staff at the opera company now? Especially people dedicated to publicity? Reports on Oktoberfest? None. Reviews? None. Articles about the artists appearing? None. Articles previewing the event? None. I included in this search not only Google but local searches of the Knoxville News Sentinel and even the Knoxville Opera website which, if you're interested, contains plenty of information about last year's productions. (To be fair, a small note does mention that the website is currently undergoing a transition to its new form.)
Physicists sometimes infer data from sub-atomic collision experiments by seeing which particles are conspicuously absent from an event. We might borrow this technique to infer data about Oktoberfest. Since there appears to have been little or no publicity for the event, short of that mentioned in the direct-mailings sent out to former opera patrons, one might infer that attendance suffered... and one would be right. Rumor had it that over 100 plates were unsold. One hundred missing patrons doesn't seem that big a deal for a regular two-run production in the 1500-seat Tennessee Theater with ticket prices starting about $22; however, for single-performance dinner theater in the smallish Foundry at $100 a plate, that's $10K that's going to be missed in the KO's coffers!
In defense of the KO staff, Oktoberfest really wasn't really meant to be a public event anyway. It was a night of fun for current patrons, a kickoff of this season, a reason for all the opera-ites in the Knoxville area to get together and party with good food and libations, with a few laughs and an aria or two along the way. Consequently, in this sense, Oktoberfest was a great success! From the initial downbeat of Student Prince, event-goers came alive and participated lustily in the production, pounding their tables and/or beer steins in time with the music, giving a loud hurrah for the men's chorus and their antics, and heartily applauding the arias, duets, etc. The event was also a showcase for some of our new opera apprentices at UT to shine; certainly, also in that respect, the night was a success. (This author can remember harder times where apprentice classes weren't as first-rate as those we seem to be gathering together these days.)
As far as the chorus, I think I speak for all concerned when I say we had a good time, though not quite as good a time as we would have had if we'd had the women's division of the chorus with us. Though we have a plethora of male "characters" in the men's chorus, there is an equivalent and unique number in the women's chorus that, when blended in, take things to new heights. Fortunately, full chorus rehearsals for Nov. 1's "Glitterville" gala at the Tennessee Theater start tomorrow night, so we won't have to sit on our hands long to see them.
Which reminds me... I need to start learning some music.
Alas! There hasn't been that much to talk about, really. Last Friday's "Oktoberfest" dinner theater was basically a repeat of last year's celebration, only this year some selections from Romberg's "The New Moon" were added to the program. In trying to Google up some additional information on this year's production, I realized that there wasn't any. Hmm... Do we not have a full-time staff at the opera company now? Especially people dedicated to publicity? Reports on Oktoberfest? None. Reviews? None. Articles about the artists appearing? None. Articles previewing the event? None. I included in this search not only Google but local searches of the Knoxville News Sentinel and even the Knoxville Opera website which, if you're interested, contains plenty of information about last year's productions. (To be fair, a small note does mention that the website is currently undergoing a transition to its new form.)
Physicists sometimes infer data from sub-atomic collision experiments by seeing which particles are conspicuously absent from an event. We might borrow this technique to infer data about Oktoberfest. Since there appears to have been little or no publicity for the event, short of that mentioned in the direct-mailings sent out to former opera patrons, one might infer that attendance suffered... and one would be right. Rumor had it that over 100 plates were unsold. One hundred missing patrons doesn't seem that big a deal for a regular two-run production in the 1500-seat Tennessee Theater with ticket prices starting about $22; however, for single-performance dinner theater in the smallish Foundry at $100 a plate, that's $10K that's going to be missed in the KO's coffers!
In defense of the KO staff, Oktoberfest really wasn't really meant to be a public event anyway. It was a night of fun for current patrons, a kickoff of this season, a reason for all the opera-ites in the Knoxville area to get together and party with good food and libations, with a few laughs and an aria or two along the way. Consequently, in this sense, Oktoberfest was a great success! From the initial downbeat of Student Prince, event-goers came alive and participated lustily in the production, pounding their tables and/or beer steins in time with the music, giving a loud hurrah for the men's chorus and their antics, and heartily applauding the arias, duets, etc. The event was also a showcase for some of our new opera apprentices at UT to shine; certainly, also in that respect, the night was a success. (This author can remember harder times where apprentice classes weren't as first-rate as those we seem to be gathering together these days.)
As far as the chorus, I think I speak for all concerned when I say we had a good time, though not quite as good a time as we would have had if we'd had the women's division of the chorus with us. Though we have a plethora of male "characters" in the men's chorus, there is an equivalent and unique number in the women's chorus that, when blended in, take things to new heights. Fortunately, full chorus rehearsals for Nov. 1's "Glitterville" gala at the Tennessee Theater start tomorrow night, so we won't have to sit on our hands long to see them.
Which reminds me... I need to start learning some music.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
"Renéesance"
This is the New York Times review of the Met's opening gala last night featuring a three-act (and three-opera) tribute to Renée Fleming.
Ms. Fleming chose to show off her voice in her three favorite roles: Traviata (Act II), Manon (Act III), and the Countess from the final scene of Strauss's "Capriccio."
"Renéesance," as well as "The Renée Fleming Fashion Show," were the memes that several opera bloggers had been calling this year's gala for the past few weeks, apparently mocking the big to-do that the Met had prepared, including three gowns especially designed for Ms. Fleming by famous NYC fashion designers.
But, despite the purists grumblings about an opening production being a garish tribute to famous singers, the show did go on. Reviewer Anthony Tommasini overall liked the production... um, productions?
What got me was that the performance was simulcast on a screen at Fordham Plaza and in 500 theaters throughout the U.S. and Argentina. (I must remember to ask Jerry or Vlad if Knoxvegas was included in those 500.) But what got me was the other large simulcast location in NYC, that is, Times Square. I can't make up my mind whether to be joyous at opera's appearance at what is basically the Pigeon Forge of the Big Apple or appalled that its pearls were being cast before swine. The accompanying picture to the article lends credence to the latter, I'm afraid. How anyone can sit in the center of four of NYC's busiest thoroughfares and try to listen to opera is beyond me. Between the honking of cabs (and probably loud cursing by the cabbies), the vagrants panhandling (don't let the NYPD tell you they aren't there!), Disney-store-bound tourists, and Broadway goers hustling to and from their artistic venues, how could you possibly pay attention?
But maybe that's just me. As I've revealed before, I'm ADD. The very presence of the multimillion dollar signage surrounding the square alone would be enough to send me into some kind of visual data overload convulsion. If that didn't get me, the presence of what appears to be a fluorescent-light rendition of the American flag apparently smack dab in the middle of the audience would. "Oh, really?! Renée Fleming was in those productions? I didn't notice." But that's NYC for you: Take a bit of every culture currently existing, add in art from Michaelangelo to the seediest porn movie, throw in a dash of sports and gobs and gobs of greedy businesses (Remember when Disney was considered a wholesome, family-oriented company?) and that's the bright lights, big city for you. And Times Square is the crossroads of it all... with Ms. Fleming and the Met on the big screen.
* * *
On a more local note: The Knoxville Opera gears up for its premiere gala on October 10 at the Foundry with tonight's first rehearsal of Reader's Digest versions of Romberg's "Student Prince" and "The New Moon." So much for the lazy days of summer! Guess I'd better be looking at the scores.
I wonder if they KO is preparing any simulcasts to downtown Gatlinburg in the near future?
Ms. Fleming chose to show off her voice in her three favorite roles: Traviata (Act II), Manon (Act III), and the Countess from the final scene of Strauss's "Capriccio."
"Renéesance," as well as "The Renée Fleming Fashion Show," were the memes that several opera bloggers had been calling this year's gala for the past few weeks, apparently mocking the big to-do that the Met had prepared, including three gowns especially designed for Ms. Fleming by famous NYC fashion designers.
But, despite the purists grumblings about an opening production being a garish tribute to famous singers, the show did go on. Reviewer Anthony Tommasini overall liked the production... um, productions?
What got me was that the performance was simulcast on a screen at Fordham Plaza and in 500 theaters throughout the U.S. and Argentina. (I must remember to ask Jerry or Vlad if Knoxvegas was included in those 500.) But what got me was the other large simulcast location in NYC, that is, Times Square. I can't make up my mind whether to be joyous at opera's appearance at what is basically the Pigeon Forge of the Big Apple or appalled that its pearls were being cast before swine. The accompanying picture to the article lends credence to the latter, I'm afraid. How anyone can sit in the center of four of NYC's busiest thoroughfares and try to listen to opera is beyond me. Between the honking of cabs (and probably loud cursing by the cabbies), the vagrants panhandling (don't let the NYPD tell you they aren't there!), Disney-store-bound tourists, and Broadway goers hustling to and from their artistic venues, how could you possibly pay attention?
But maybe that's just me. As I've revealed before, I'm ADD. The very presence of the multimillion dollar signage surrounding the square alone would be enough to send me into some kind of visual data overload convulsion. If that didn't get me, the presence of what appears to be a fluorescent-light rendition of the American flag apparently smack dab in the middle of the audience would. "Oh, really?! Renée Fleming was in those productions? I didn't notice." But that's NYC for you: Take a bit of every culture currently existing, add in art from Michaelangelo to the seediest porn movie, throw in a dash of sports and gobs and gobs of greedy businesses (Remember when Disney was considered a wholesome, family-oriented company?) and that's the bright lights, big city for you. And Times Square is the crossroads of it all... with Ms. Fleming and the Met on the big screen.
* * *
On a more local note: The Knoxville Opera gears up for its premiere gala on October 10 at the Foundry with tonight's first rehearsal of Reader's Digest versions of Romberg's "Student Prince" and "The New Moon." So much for the lazy days of summer! Guess I'd better be looking at the scores.
I wonder if they KO is preparing any simulcasts to downtown Gatlinburg in the near future?
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Finale for Free: LilyPond Music Notation Software
I have been a user of Finale, MakeMusic's industry-standard music engraving program, on and off throughout its 20 years of existence. Two things have always frustrated me about it: the significant cost of the software and the huge time investment required to learn (and relearn) it.
On the user-interface end of my complaint, I recall a choral composition class I took in grad school in the early 90s: Our final project was to "publish" the project we'd been working on--both in the computer lab and in class--using Finale. I never could get my project to look the way I wanted it. After many hours of cursing in the computer lab, I finally threw up my hands, jotted out my work on regular staff paper and turned it in along with a print-out of what I'd been able to cajole Finale into doing. I think, with Finale 2008, I could do the task in a couple of days of on and off work. Unfortunately, the price point for the software has remained a sticking point: A completely new, full-blown version of Finale 2009, the latest, greatest version, will set you back $600; previous release owners may upgrade for "only" $149. To their credit, MakeMusic has heard the poor musicians' pleas over the years and you can now buy the "lite"-est version of Finale for $99, or even download a completely-no-frills version called, cleverly, "NotePad," for free.
But, despite Finale's dominance, alternative programs exist. For example, in Europe, the equally full-featured Sibelius is very popular. But for the past several weeks I've been playing with a very comprehensive and relatively easy-to-use software called LilyPond.
My two sticking points about Finale are rather moot with LilyPond.
First of all, LilyPond is free for anyone to download and install. It is based on GPL, the GNU Public License model of software development. Without going into too much detail (esp. about the "GNU" part of the acronym), basically, GPL is based on the idea that if we all try to get along and help each other, the world will be a better place. Software under the GPL may not be sold for profit; in addition, software is required to be collaborative, i.e., the raw computer code for GPL programs must be offered up for modification by other programmers as long as those programmers, in turn, offer their improved/modified versions up for modification by anyone else.
Second, LilyPond is rather ridiculously easy to use at its most basic level. The ".ly" files are merely text files. A budding composer may open up a regular letters-words-paragraphs-type note pad (not the Finale Note Pad) program and type in his score using very intuitive notation: For instance, if I were to transcribe "Hot Cross Buns," it would look something like this:
\relative c' {
e4 d c2 | e4 d c2 | c8 c c c d d d d | e4 d c2 |
}
The above notation would be translated--"compiled," in computer programmer speak--by LilyPond into a PDF file that looked like
which could be printed out and given to any musician.
Now, granted, this is a very simple example, but what is immediately evident to any musician is that, by looking at the above code, most anyone could hazard a guess at what the output score would look like. Better yet, anyone could type in that sequence of letters and numbers with a minimum amount of instruction. Wanna get more complicated? Try this:
\relative c'' {
\clef treble
\key c \major
\time 6/8
% You could notate "Chopsticks" as two separate voices on the staff
<<
{ g8 g g g g g | g g g g g g | b b b b a b | c4 c8 c b a | } \\
{ f8 f f f f f | e e e e e e | d d d d e d | c4 c8 c d e | }
>>
\break
% or you could notate it chordally
<f g>8 <f g> <f g> <f g> <f g> <f g> | <e g> <e g> <e g> <e g> <e g> <e g> |
<d b'> <d b'> <d b'> <d b'> <e a> <d b'> | <c c'>4 <c c'>8 <c c'> <d b'> <e a> |
}
And get this
Obviously, some things do take getting used to--all the braces and brackets and such. And I admit that I'd be able to hack out "Hot Cross Buns" and "Chopsticks" just as fast in Finale. However, as the music gets more complex, LilyPond remains fairly easier to use. An example from the first movement of J.S. Bach's Cantata No. 78, "Jesu, der du meine Seele":
The cross-staff voicing is hard to do in both programs... well, it's pretty hard to do even when you're writing stuff out by hand, but, trust me, Finale's method is far more convoluted. To change the staff in Finale, you have to enter the music in its original staff, select the cross-staff notes, and then find the right tool dialog buried deep within many menu options... and hope you've made the right option selections. You'd then have to go back and add the cross-staff lines with another tool. Within LilyPond, you merely note "\set followVoice = ##t \change Staff = lower" within the score description.
Okay, complex music requires complex measures in both programs. But perhaps the best thing about LilyPond is that rather than developing code to draw and print music with a computer, the LilyPond developers studied the ancient art of music engraving, i.e., how publishers through the years have printed music on the page, and then designed their software to recreate those functions. I could go on, but the authors make their very cogent argument in favor of LilyPond in this article, as well as giving an excellent introduction to music engraving in general. (BTW, we call it "engraving" because the original printers of music in the 15th century used blocks of wood that they would engrave with woodcutting tools to create a "stamp" that would be inked and then laid onto blank paper.)
In sum, I've been very impressed with both the ease of use of LilyPond and the quality of the music I've printed with it.
Let's face it! The quality a printed score is of primary importance in the creation of the actual artistic entity that is music. Certainly, at some time or another, we've all had to read off of an original hand-written manuscript. Generally, composers are more concerned with getting ideas on the page than they are making their ideas clear to performers. Barring the actual presence of a composer to interpret the score when any questions arise, it has always been the engravers job to make the composer's ideas clear. While Finale and Sibelius (who each claim to be "No. 1" in the music creation business) will continue to dominate the market, the discerning musician will look for the best tool for the best job, the one that is easiest and fastest to use and creates the best score engravings. I definitely intend to make LilyPond--and some of its other incarnations/helper programs a large part of my musical scoring tools
Example of J.S. Bach's manuscript from St. Matthew Passion
On the user-interface end of my complaint, I recall a choral composition class I took in grad school in the early 90s: Our final project was to "publish" the project we'd been working on--both in the computer lab and in class--using Finale. I never could get my project to look the way I wanted it. After many hours of cursing in the computer lab, I finally threw up my hands, jotted out my work on regular staff paper and turned it in along with a print-out of what I'd been able to cajole Finale into doing. I think, with Finale 2008, I could do the task in a couple of days of on and off work. Unfortunately, the price point for the software has remained a sticking point: A completely new, full-blown version of Finale 2009, the latest, greatest version, will set you back $600; previous release owners may upgrade for "only" $149. To their credit, MakeMusic has heard the poor musicians' pleas over the years and you can now buy the "lite"-est version of Finale for $99, or even download a completely-no-frills version called, cleverly, "NotePad," for free.
But, despite Finale's dominance, alternative programs exist. For example, in Europe, the equally full-featured Sibelius is very popular. But for the past several weeks I've been playing with a very comprehensive and relatively easy-to-use software called LilyPond.
My two sticking points about Finale are rather moot with LilyPond.
First of all, LilyPond is free for anyone to download and install. It is based on GPL, the GNU Public License model of software development. Without going into too much detail (esp. about the "GNU" part of the acronym), basically, GPL is based on the idea that if we all try to get along and help each other, the world will be a better place. Software under the GPL may not be sold for profit; in addition, software is required to be collaborative, i.e., the raw computer code for GPL programs must be offered up for modification by other programmers as long as those programmers, in turn, offer their improved/modified versions up for modification by anyone else.
Second, LilyPond is rather ridiculously easy to use at its most basic level. The ".ly" files are merely text files. A budding composer may open up a regular letters-words-paragraphs-type note pad (not the Finale Note Pad) program and type in his score using very intuitive notation: For instance, if I were to transcribe "Hot Cross Buns," it would look something like this:
\relative c' {
e4 d c2 | e4 d c2 | c8 c c c d d d d | e4 d c2 |
}
The above notation would be translated--"compiled," in computer programmer speak--by LilyPond into a PDF file that looked like
which could be printed out and given to any musician.
Now, granted, this is a very simple example, but what is immediately evident to any musician is that, by looking at the above code, most anyone could hazard a guess at what the output score would look like. Better yet, anyone could type in that sequence of letters and numbers with a minimum amount of instruction. Wanna get more complicated? Try this:
\relative c'' {
\clef treble
\key c \major
\time 6/8
% You could notate "Chopsticks" as two separate voices on the staff
<<
{ g8 g g g g g | g g g g g g | b b b b a b | c4 c8 c b a | } \\
{ f8 f f f f f | e e e e e e | d d d d e d | c4 c8 c d e | }
>>
\break
% or you could notate it chordally
<f g>8 <f g> <f g> <f g> <f g> <f g> | <e g> <e g> <e g> <e g> <e g> <e g> |
<d b'> <d b'> <d b'> <d b'> <e a> <d b'> | <c c'>4 <c c'>8 <c c'> <d b'> <e a> |
}
And get this
Obviously, some things do take getting used to--all the braces and brackets and such. And I admit that I'd be able to hack out "Hot Cross Buns" and "Chopsticks" just as fast in Finale. However, as the music gets more complex, LilyPond remains fairly easier to use. An example from the first movement of J.S. Bach's Cantata No. 78, "Jesu, der du meine Seele":
The cross-staff voicing is hard to do in both programs... well, it's pretty hard to do even when you're writing stuff out by hand, but, trust me, Finale's method is far more convoluted. To change the staff in Finale, you have to enter the music in its original staff, select the cross-staff notes, and then find the right tool dialog buried deep within many menu options... and hope you've made the right option selections. You'd then have to go back and add the cross-staff lines with another tool. Within LilyPond, you merely note "\set followVoice = ##t \change Staff = lower" within the score description.
Okay, complex music requires complex measures in both programs. But perhaps the best thing about LilyPond is that rather than developing code to draw and print music with a computer, the LilyPond developers studied the ancient art of music engraving, i.e., how publishers through the years have printed music on the page, and then designed their software to recreate those functions. I could go on, but the authors make their very cogent argument in favor of LilyPond in this article, as well as giving an excellent introduction to music engraving in general. (BTW, we call it "engraving" because the original printers of music in the 15th century used blocks of wood that they would engrave with woodcutting tools to create a "stamp" that would be inked and then laid onto blank paper.)
In sum, I've been very impressed with both the ease of use of LilyPond and the quality of the music I've printed with it.
Let's face it! The quality a printed score is of primary importance in the creation of the actual artistic entity that is music. Certainly, at some time or another, we've all had to read off of an original hand-written manuscript. Generally, composers are more concerned with getting ideas on the page than they are making their ideas clear to performers. Barring the actual presence of a composer to interpret the score when any questions arise, it has always been the engravers job to make the composer's ideas clear. While Finale and Sibelius (who each claim to be "No. 1" in the music creation business) will continue to dominate the market, the discerning musician will look for the best tool for the best job, the one that is easiest and fastest to use and creates the best score engravings. I definitely intend to make LilyPond--and some of its other incarnations/helper programs a large part of my musical scoring tools
Example of J.S. Bach's manuscript from St. Matthew Passion
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
What price, artistry?
An Associated Press article today added further fuel to the flame over the opening ceremonies of the Beijing Olympics.
Previous reports reprimanded Chinese government, filmmaker and production director Zhang Yimou, and NBC for adding digital fireworks to the broadcast production. Then came the hubbub over a communist party leader insisting that an attractive nine-year-old girl be broadcast lip syncing the Chinese national anthem while her supposedly uglier comrade actually sang the paean from a secluded room in the bowels of the stadium, safely away from the cameras.
Now additional word comes from various sources about the horrible toll the ceremony and its rehearsals put upon the performers involved in the spectacle. According to the article:
But is this idea of "sacrifice" truly a Communist tenet? Or is it perhaps related to what we, as artists, face every day: How much do we sacrifice in the name of art?
Take your average opera singer. Most singers have spent years in classroom, practice room, rehearsal hall, and on stage to refine their craft. While many college kids are out partying, having a good time, getting wasted on alcoholic beverages or, perhaps, illicit drugs, and sewing their wild oats, the average voice student is either locked up in a cramped, hot, smelly, practice studio with an out-of-tune piano, struggling with refining his or her technique or trying to learn a new, more difficult aria; or he or she is stranded in the back of some warehouse-cum-rehearsal space down on the, uh... "less fashionable" end of town with several hundred others in equally desperate environmental conditions. Even those singers lucky enough to have avoided such intense operatic education know the discipline and--I tell some of my class voice students--athletic development required to sing properly. "Practice makes perfect," is the watch word for art.
So how much is too much? The throes of agony of a recent KO production have greatly added to the horror tales that choristers, staff, and crew alike tell during the latter hours of an, ahem, well-lubricated cast party. And yet, no production in recent memory elicited more of a reaction from the audience. Some loved it; some hated it; but rarely did they find it boring. As participants, we should feel a great deal of pride at those reactions, even though we put up with the late-night rehearsals, even though we spent countless hours waiting for our call, only to be dismissed, even though we all treaded that thin line between sticking with things and saying, "F**k it!" Would that all of our productions stir up such reactions from our audience!
Another example: I spent four years as an undergraduate in the UT "Pride of the Southland" marching band. Those familiar with college bands know that UT has one of the finest band programs in the country, and the "Pride of the Southland" marching band is a part of that fine tradition--a tradition that insists on hard work and high artistic standards. From the first of August until fall semester began in early September, we practiced almost daily. If we were lucky, we were allowed to rehearse music in the air-conditioned confines of the UT band room; if we weren't--and we often weren't--we had to spend up to 8 hours a day marching on the sweltering, then-artificial turf of Neyland Stadium, the brutal August heat and humidity of East Tennessee battering us at every corner. Things improved only marginally when school started: Marching band was actually a class you would take. "Classroom" (i.e., Neyland or a practice field) hours were from 7:30 to 9:30 am and then again from 1:00 to 3:30 pm Tuesdays and Thursdays, and, generally, 7:30 am to the end of the UT football game on Saturdays. The schedule for participating in road games could be just as difficult--load buses at 6:00 am on a Friday, ride 4 or 5 hours packed in like sardines, dress and give a lunchtime concert for alumni in whatever city we ended up near, back on the bus for another 4 or 5 hours, give another alumni concert in our destination city, then a marching rehearsal for a couple of hours before getting to the hotel. The Saturday road schedule was similar to home games, except you had to lug and load regular luggage in addition to instruments (unfortunately, mine was tuba). We'd either drive back home Saturday night or on Sunday. This went on every week from September to November. During that time, we had to learn up to six separate halftime shows, marching and music, to perfection while keeping our standard pre-game show, learned in those early weeks in the sweltering August heat, in top shape.
Did I hate it? Heck yeah, I did! It was a miserable existence! Being a commuter to UT meant I either had to pack a change of clothes on Tuesdays and Thursdays or go to afternoon classes in sweat-soaked jeans and shirts. It was usually the latter because, as a busy music student and band member, I had no time to walk six blocks back and forth from Neyland Stadium, retrieve or put away my instrument, and make my next class on time... even when it was in the Music Building. (My favorite semester was when I was forced to schedule a required sociology class located on the other side of "The Hill," approximately a mile from the Music Building, right after band. Fortunately, I had a prof that was very understanding.) It was very much like what I would have imagined army life would've been like: You get yelled at all the time, nothing you do is ever good enough, you never have enough time to do the things you need to do, and you were always sweating.
And yet, I loved it! I got great seats to every UT home game and almost every away game. (Today, the band has to sit in the south endzone of Neyland; when I was in school, we were located right down front on the 50-yard line!) I met a lot of great people, some still my friends to this day, learned to act like--and be treated like--an adult with personal responsibilities, traveled to exotic places (e.g., pre-Disney--i.e., ultra-sleazy--Times Square my freshman, and 18th, year), and generally got a whole lot of what I would call "life experiences."
Perhaps the most amazing moment in my life was being on the field for pregame at the 1986 Sugar Bowl in the Super Dome, not being able to hear myself play because of 70,000 screaming No.-8-ranked Vol fans. There were a few No. 2-ranked Miami fans there. Out of self-preservation, they were very quiet, and they left in the third quarter, just after I lost my voice from hollering and when the score was 28-7 Vols; final score was 35-7 Vols and, to this day, you can see both Jimmy Johnson and Vinny Testaverde wince when someone mentions the '86 Sugar Bowl.) Today, every time I hear "The Pride" playing any of over a dozen fight songs (live or recorded), I'm almost reduced to tears with overflowing pride, and every August, when everybody starts talking UT football, I'm as happy as a clam.
Perhaps the greatest mark of high art is that it does illicit strong reactions in people, that it does stir up a range of emotions within them. Although there is not a direct correlation between time spent on a work of art and its acclaim (or outcry), generally, the more and harder an artist toils on a work, the higher the final quality of the product... and, generally, the greater sense of fulfillment the artist has for his or her work. That was certainly true of my experience with the Pride of the Southland... oh yeah, and with the opera company... and with church choirs, and the symphony, and....
So, for the previously mentioned 17-year-old Chinese martial artist, Ren Yang, the long hours, the threat of heat stroke, the danger of injury--or even death (Being an acrophobic, I couldn't help but think what would happen if
gymnast Li Ning had fallen during his "victory lap" around the rafters
of the stadium to light the Olympic torch)--was worth it. For the rest of his life, Ren, and tens of thousands of performers like him, will remember these Beijing games. They won't remember being sick with heat stroke, they won't remember the fact that they could hardly walk with tired, sore muscles, they won't remember the stinging comments of Zhang over the loudspeaker in rehearsal, they won't remember the rainy rehearsals or the long nights at the "Bird's Nest." What they will remember is that they were a part of one of the greatest artistic spectacles to ever be seen on this earth.
So, I ask you, KO chorister, what are you willing to put up with to create incredible art?
Previous reports reprimanded Chinese government, filmmaker and production director Zhang Yimou, and NBC for adding digital fireworks to the broadcast production. Then came the hubbub over a communist party leader insisting that an attractive nine-year-old girl be broadcast lip syncing the Chinese national anthem while her supposedly uglier comrade actually sang the paean from a secluded room in the bowels of the stadium, safely away from the cameras.
Now additional word comes from various sources about the horrible toll the ceremony and its rehearsals put upon the performers involved in the spectacle. According to the article:
- One performer was paralyzed from taking a 10-foot fall during a rehearsal
- Other performers were injured when they slipped on the glassy surface of the giant LCD scroll that unfurled in the middle of the field
- Some of the 900 performers under the boxes displaying the Chinese ideograms had to wear adult diapers to endure the 6-hour stay under their 40-pound charges
- Many suffered heat stroke or other illnesses from the long dress rehearsals, one lasting a mind-numbing 51 hours!with little food and few bathroom breaks.
In one week, we could only work four and a half days, we had to have coffee breaks twice a day, couldn't go into overtime, and just a little discomfort was not allowed because of human rights.Zhang continued, lambasting divas and performing arts unions:
You could not criticize them either. They all belong to some organizations... they have all kinds of institutions, unions... We can achieve in one week what they can achieve in one month.There is an interesting dichotomy in these Beijing games. On the one hand, the Chinese have striven--and largely succeeded--in displaying how similar they are to more Westernized countries; on the other, as evidenced by the above examples, they have shown how much they still adhere to 1960s Cold War Communist dogma, where the people sacrifice all for the good of their country and countrymen. For instance, one of the 2,008 martial artists involved in the ceremony, a 17-year-old, said that he had nothing but "pure joy" in his heart the night of the performance.
But is this idea of "sacrifice" truly a Communist tenet? Or is it perhaps related to what we, as artists, face every day: How much do we sacrifice in the name of art?
Take your average opera singer. Most singers have spent years in classroom, practice room, rehearsal hall, and on stage to refine their craft. While many college kids are out partying, having a good time, getting wasted on alcoholic beverages or, perhaps, illicit drugs, and sewing their wild oats, the average voice student is either locked up in a cramped, hot, smelly, practice studio with an out-of-tune piano, struggling with refining his or her technique or trying to learn a new, more difficult aria; or he or she is stranded in the back of some warehouse-cum-rehearsal space down on the, uh... "less fashionable" end of town with several hundred others in equally desperate environmental conditions. Even those singers lucky enough to have avoided such intense operatic education know the discipline and--I tell some of my class voice students--athletic development required to sing properly. "Practice makes perfect," is the watch word for art.
So how much is too much? The throes of agony of a recent KO production have greatly added to the horror tales that choristers, staff, and crew alike tell during the latter hours of an, ahem, well-lubricated cast party. And yet, no production in recent memory elicited more of a reaction from the audience. Some loved it; some hated it; but rarely did they find it boring. As participants, we should feel a great deal of pride at those reactions, even though we put up with the late-night rehearsals, even though we spent countless hours waiting for our call, only to be dismissed, even though we all treaded that thin line between sticking with things and saying, "F**k it!" Would that all of our productions stir up such reactions from our audience!
Another example: I spent four years as an undergraduate in the UT "Pride of the Southland" marching band. Those familiar with college bands know that UT has one of the finest band programs in the country, and the "Pride of the Southland" marching band is a part of that fine tradition--a tradition that insists on hard work and high artistic standards. From the first of August until fall semester began in early September, we practiced almost daily. If we were lucky, we were allowed to rehearse music in the air-conditioned confines of the UT band room; if we weren't--and we often weren't--we had to spend up to 8 hours a day marching on the sweltering, then-artificial turf of Neyland Stadium, the brutal August heat and humidity of East Tennessee battering us at every corner. Things improved only marginally when school started: Marching band was actually a class you would take. "Classroom" (i.e., Neyland or a practice field) hours were from 7:30 to 9:30 am and then again from 1:00 to 3:30 pm Tuesdays and Thursdays, and, generally, 7:30 am to the end of the UT football game on Saturdays. The schedule for participating in road games could be just as difficult--load buses at 6:00 am on a Friday, ride 4 or 5 hours packed in like sardines, dress and give a lunchtime concert for alumni in whatever city we ended up near, back on the bus for another 4 or 5 hours, give another alumni concert in our destination city, then a marching rehearsal for a couple of hours before getting to the hotel. The Saturday road schedule was similar to home games, except you had to lug and load regular luggage in addition to instruments (unfortunately, mine was tuba). We'd either drive back home Saturday night or on Sunday. This went on every week from September to November. During that time, we had to learn up to six separate halftime shows, marching and music, to perfection while keeping our standard pre-game show, learned in those early weeks in the sweltering August heat, in top shape.
Did I hate it? Heck yeah, I did! It was a miserable existence! Being a commuter to UT meant I either had to pack a change of clothes on Tuesdays and Thursdays or go to afternoon classes in sweat-soaked jeans and shirts. It was usually the latter because, as a busy music student and band member, I had no time to walk six blocks back and forth from Neyland Stadium, retrieve or put away my instrument, and make my next class on time... even when it was in the Music Building. (My favorite semester was when I was forced to schedule a required sociology class located on the other side of "The Hill," approximately a mile from the Music Building, right after band. Fortunately, I had a prof that was very understanding.) It was very much like what I would have imagined army life would've been like: You get yelled at all the time, nothing you do is ever good enough, you never have enough time to do the things you need to do, and you were always sweating.
And yet, I loved it! I got great seats to every UT home game and almost every away game. (Today, the band has to sit in the south endzone of Neyland; when I was in school, we were located right down front on the 50-yard line!) I met a lot of great people, some still my friends to this day, learned to act like--and be treated like--an adult with personal responsibilities, traveled to exotic places (e.g., pre-Disney--i.e., ultra-sleazy--Times Square my freshman, and 18th, year), and generally got a whole lot of what I would call "life experiences."
Perhaps the most amazing moment in my life was being on the field for pregame at the 1986 Sugar Bowl in the Super Dome, not being able to hear myself play because of 70,000 screaming No.-8-ranked Vol fans. There were a few No. 2-ranked Miami fans there. Out of self-preservation, they were very quiet, and they left in the third quarter, just after I lost my voice from hollering and when the score was 28-7 Vols; final score was 35-7 Vols and, to this day, you can see both Jimmy Johnson and Vinny Testaverde wince when someone mentions the '86 Sugar Bowl.) Today, every time I hear "The Pride" playing any of over a dozen fight songs (live or recorded), I'm almost reduced to tears with overflowing pride, and every August, when everybody starts talking UT football, I'm as happy as a clam.
Perhaps the greatest mark of high art is that it does illicit strong reactions in people, that it does stir up a range of emotions within them. Although there is not a direct correlation between time spent on a work of art and its acclaim (or outcry), generally, the more and harder an artist toils on a work, the higher the final quality of the product... and, generally, the greater sense of fulfillment the artist has for his or her work. That was certainly true of my experience with the Pride of the Southland... oh yeah, and with the opera company... and with church choirs, and the symphony, and....
So, for the previously mentioned 17-year-old Chinese martial artist, Ren Yang, the long hours, the threat of heat stroke, the danger of injury--or even death (Being an acrophobic, I couldn't help but think what would happen if
gymnast Li Ning had fallen during his "victory lap" around the rafters
of the stadium to light the Olympic torch)--was worth it. For the rest of his life, Ren, and tens of thousands of performers like him, will remember these Beijing games. They won't remember being sick with heat stroke, they won't remember the fact that they could hardly walk with tired, sore muscles, they won't remember the stinging comments of Zhang over the loudspeaker in rehearsal, they won't remember the rainy rehearsals or the long nights at the "Bird's Nest." What they will remember is that they were a part of one of the greatest artistic spectacles to ever be seen on this earth.
So, I ask you, KO chorister, what are you willing to put up with to create incredible art?
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Your friendly neighborhood opera company
It seems that many of my entries lately invoke the name of the New York Times. Honestly, I'm not like a regular reader or anything. I'm lucky to make it through a few articles on the online version of the Knoxville News Sentinel and whatever headlines end up on my Yahoo! portal page. Alas! the KNS is hardly the place you would find news of the cutting edge of art except for the occasional informational "five Ws" article (Who-what-when-where-why).
So, in perusing stories on opera and music, invariably I end up with something from the Times. And it was here, in today's issue of the NYT that I found this article on a "shoestring opera company" in the Big Apple performing Monteverdi's "Coronation of Poppea." (BTW, there's an excellent, somewhat frightening, article about the Internet denizens of anarchy, also known as "trolls," in a recent issue. Nothing about art or music, but you know tech is another passion of mine.)
The article piqued my interest: Not just because it is a story about local, unemployed artisans banding together to create an opera performance on a budget that you couldn't buy a good, recent-vintage used car on; not because the company's focus is going to be primarily dedicated to performing Baroque operas with original instruments; but because, as I may have previously mentioned, I was fortunate enough to perform "Poppea" in school and have a special place in my heart for it. Better yet, NYC company, branding itself as "Opera Omnia," is doing "Poppea" in it's audience's vernacular, English. Understandably, if you're only doing a $15k opera production, you'd probably want to maximize your audience, and even in cosmo NY, you'd catch more flies with, uh... English, if you get my drift.
"Poppea" is a good opera to do, too, if you like a healthy dose of sex with your opera. The show deals with a young, ambitious courtesan (some say), named Poppea and her sexual domination (not black leather and whips-type, mind you) over the most powerful man in the known world at that time, the Roman Emperor, Nero--yes, that Nero. There are a lot of scenes with just Poppea and Nero, in his or her bed chambers making pillow talk. I suppose you could play those scenes in a Victorian manner, but, hey! This is the bright lights, big city, New York. Everyone either has a porno shop around the corner from them or they had one nearby when they were growing up. As a visitor to Times Square in the early 1980s, I counted more porno shops and peep shows in that area than you might find "Lion King" ads today. As an entertainment, you have to compete with the likes of "Oh, Calcutta," too, not to mention thousands of other, seedier, way off Broadway shows or artsy events that would definitely get someone locked up here in the Bible belt. UT's "Poppea" in the early '90s wasn't exactly prudish. Though Carroll Freeman had not yet come on the scene, we had an equally sex-obsessed Michael Erhmann as opera director back then.
And Baroque operas are good for small companies to do. Most of them have just a few characters and, in most cases, there's not a chorus per se. The later Baroque composers like Handel and Purcell were to change that, though. Despite the deus ex machina craze in the theaters of that time, many Baroque operas are relatively simple, stagewise. They were meant to be much more portable: the King's ballroom one night and a local theater the next. There certainly wasn't the explicit attention to detail that, say, Verdi or Puccini put in their descriptions of scenery.
I applaud Opera Omnia for their endeavor. I'm sure this is more of a labor of love thing than a "we're going to be rich" thing. The ensemble encompasses various young singers in their 20s and 30s and several prominent musicians in the New York area, a retired church music director. The article mentions the recent blossoming of various small ensembles that perform in unusual venues--bars and such. It even lists other opera companies in the city: Dicapo Opera Theater, Gotham Chamber Opera ("where opera gets intimate," according to their website), Opera Company of Brooklyn, Amato Opera of New York City, and Opera on Tap, which apparently seeks to turn opera performances into something similar to a rock or jazz musician's "gig." Of interest to local opera lovers: Opera on Tap has, uh... opened a branch office in New Orleans, sponsored by New Orleans Opera, where Robert Lyall, former KO director/conductor, abides as the General and Artistic Director.
I've often wondered whether something like what all these small companies are doing might be possible here in Knoxvegas. The theater companies around town seem to be able to do it. You've got the Black Box Theater, Shakespeare on the Square during the summer, as well as numerous other "shoestring" troupes. When I was singing with the Knoxville Early Music Project (KEMP) we did several quasi-staged productions. One was based on the life of the Elizabethan poet, Philip Sydney using his poems, his songs, letters, songs relevant to his time, etc. KEMP's perennial venue was the Laurel Theater, a small church which has been converted into a performance venue. The building lends itself to more intimate music such as that of the Renaissance and Baroque that we performed, and it might make a perfect space to mount a small opera production. Though the stage is tiny, there is lots of open floor space and you could do some marvelous "breaking the fourth wall" productions in it. There is even a balcony that might be suitable for an appropriately sized Baroque orchestra.
The problem for a micro-opera (I claim coining the phrase!) group in K-town? The usual suspects: Money, time, money, participation, money, and motivation. Knoxville can barely support a traditional opera company and its university feeder program. How can it support any other organization with "opera" in its title? Such a group would be on its own, probably. The KO needs to pay its own way and can nary afford to pay another group's way. Also debatable is how the KO might take the formation of another opera company in town. Would it support such an effort or see it as a threat? There would probably be some overlap between the two groups. Not a whole lot of opera singers to go 'round in this part of the country... at least ones that would be interested in performing pro bono for x number of years while the company got on its feet. Then there is the bane of so many now-defunct performing arts organizations here in town: Good management and administration. Many local musically inclined individuals have little experience with management, fund raising, hiring talent, etc. (e.g., myself). Those that do, do that kind of thing for a living, and would rather have fun singing than to sit at a desk and hound the two Jim's (Haslam and Clayton) for money. That is a hardly glamorous job, much less one that someone might be interested in getting paid McDonald's/Wendy's wages to do.
Still, the idea has intrigued me since a friend suggested it out of the blue a few years ago. She seemed to think that that might be something I could do. Personally, I don't see how a guy who can barely keep his own personal checks from bouncing every month to be put in charge of other people's money. But I could be coaxed into taking some other role, like artistic direction or just plain ol' singer.
I invite comment on the subject of a small opera ensemble in Knoxville. Let me know your thoughts.
So, in perusing stories on opera and music, invariably I end up with something from the Times. And it was here, in today's issue of the NYT that I found this article on a "shoestring opera company" in the Big Apple performing Monteverdi's "Coronation of Poppea." (BTW, there's an excellent, somewhat frightening, article about the Internet denizens of anarchy, also known as "trolls," in a recent issue. Nothing about art or music, but you know tech is another passion of mine.)
The article piqued my interest: Not just because it is a story about local, unemployed artisans banding together to create an opera performance on a budget that you couldn't buy a good, recent-vintage used car on; not because the company's focus is going to be primarily dedicated to performing Baroque operas with original instruments; but because, as I may have previously mentioned, I was fortunate enough to perform "Poppea" in school and have a special place in my heart for it. Better yet, NYC company, branding itself as "Opera Omnia," is doing "Poppea" in it's audience's vernacular, English. Understandably, if you're only doing a $15k opera production, you'd probably want to maximize your audience, and even in cosmo NY, you'd catch more flies with, uh... English, if you get my drift.
"Poppea" is a good opera to do, too, if you like a healthy dose of sex with your opera. The show deals with a young, ambitious courtesan (some say), named Poppea and her sexual domination (not black leather and whips-type, mind you) over the most powerful man in the known world at that time, the Roman Emperor, Nero--yes, that Nero. There are a lot of scenes with just Poppea and Nero, in his or her bed chambers making pillow talk. I suppose you could play those scenes in a Victorian manner, but, hey! This is the bright lights, big city, New York. Everyone either has a porno shop around the corner from them or they had one nearby when they were growing up. As a visitor to Times Square in the early 1980s, I counted more porno shops and peep shows in that area than you might find "Lion King" ads today. As an entertainment, you have to compete with the likes of "Oh, Calcutta," too, not to mention thousands of other, seedier, way off Broadway shows or artsy events that would definitely get someone locked up here in the Bible belt. UT's "Poppea" in the early '90s wasn't exactly prudish. Though Carroll Freeman had not yet come on the scene, we had an equally sex-obsessed Michael Erhmann as opera director back then.
And Baroque operas are good for small companies to do. Most of them have just a few characters and, in most cases, there's not a chorus per se. The later Baroque composers like Handel and Purcell were to change that, though. Despite the deus ex machina craze in the theaters of that time, many Baroque operas are relatively simple, stagewise. They were meant to be much more portable: the King's ballroom one night and a local theater the next. There certainly wasn't the explicit attention to detail that, say, Verdi or Puccini put in their descriptions of scenery.
I applaud Opera Omnia for their endeavor. I'm sure this is more of a labor of love thing than a "we're going to be rich" thing. The ensemble encompasses various young singers in their 20s and 30s and several prominent musicians in the New York area, a retired church music director. The article mentions the recent blossoming of various small ensembles that perform in unusual venues--bars and such. It even lists other opera companies in the city: Dicapo Opera Theater, Gotham Chamber Opera ("where opera gets intimate," according to their website), Opera Company of Brooklyn, Amato Opera of New York City, and Opera on Tap, which apparently seeks to turn opera performances into something similar to a rock or jazz musician's "gig." Of interest to local opera lovers: Opera on Tap has, uh... opened a branch office in New Orleans, sponsored by New Orleans Opera, where Robert Lyall, former KO director/conductor, abides as the General and Artistic Director.
I've often wondered whether something like what all these small companies are doing might be possible here in Knoxvegas. The theater companies around town seem to be able to do it. You've got the Black Box Theater, Shakespeare on the Square during the summer, as well as numerous other "shoestring" troupes. When I was singing with the Knoxville Early Music Project (KEMP) we did several quasi-staged productions. One was based on the life of the Elizabethan poet, Philip Sydney using his poems, his songs, letters, songs relevant to his time, etc. KEMP's perennial venue was the Laurel Theater, a small church which has been converted into a performance venue. The building lends itself to more intimate music such as that of the Renaissance and Baroque that we performed, and it might make a perfect space to mount a small opera production. Though the stage is tiny, there is lots of open floor space and you could do some marvelous "breaking the fourth wall" productions in it. There is even a balcony that might be suitable for an appropriately sized Baroque orchestra.
The problem for a micro-opera (I claim coining the phrase!) group in K-town? The usual suspects: Money, time, money, participation, money, and motivation. Knoxville can barely support a traditional opera company and its university feeder program. How can it support any other organization with "opera" in its title? Such a group would be on its own, probably. The KO needs to pay its own way and can nary afford to pay another group's way. Also debatable is how the KO might take the formation of another opera company in town. Would it support such an effort or see it as a threat? There would probably be some overlap between the two groups. Not a whole lot of opera singers to go 'round in this part of the country... at least ones that would be interested in performing pro bono for x number of years while the company got on its feet. Then there is the bane of so many now-defunct performing arts organizations here in town: Good management and administration. Many local musically inclined individuals have little experience with management, fund raising, hiring talent, etc. (e.g., myself). Those that do, do that kind of thing for a living, and would rather have fun singing than to sit at a desk and hound the two Jim's (Haslam and Clayton) for money. That is a hardly glamorous job, much less one that someone might be interested in getting paid McDonald's/Wendy's wages to do.
Still, the idea has intrigued me since a friend suggested it out of the blue a few years ago. She seemed to think that that might be something I could do. Personally, I don't see how a guy who can barely keep his own personal checks from bouncing every month to be put in charge of other people's money. But I could be coaxed into taking some other role, like artistic direction or just plain ol' singer.
I invite comment on the subject of a small opera ensemble in Knoxville. Let me know your thoughts.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Truly (Dr.) Horrible (Not!)
Found "Dr. Horrible." online today and immediately fell in love with it. It kind of fits my quirky sense of humor.
Okay, I admit it: Even though I pride myself on my geekdom, I've had a hard time getting into the "viral video" thing. (definition: viral video.) Yes, occasionally I'll click on a link and watch something on YouTube, but it's not like I'm going to YouTube every other hour to see what people are posting. For that matter, I don't usually watch any video on the web; I like the quiet of reading a news story on the web instead of watching an ABC News or AP video with concomitant preceding commercial. At least I can, for the most part, ignore the print ads, even the ones with animated monkeys.
"So, what's this got to do with opera?" you may be asking? Well, as far as "true" opera, nothing; it's more up the "musical" alley. During the recent Hollywood writer's strike, a few bored penners, Joss Whedon and his brothers, Zach and Jed, and Jed's fianceé, Maurissa Tancharoen, decided to get off their couches and do something fun with a bunch of their talented friends, something they would not have been able to do while employed: write, direct, and produce a short film on their own. The result is "Dr. Horrible," a web-only viral video musical adventure super-villan comedy miniseries, starring Neil Patrick Harris, aka TV's "Doogie Howser, MD" and currently star of the well-received CBS sitcom, "How I Met Your Mother"; Nathan Fillon from Fox's "Firefly" and its feature-length theater fodder, "Serenity", not to mention ABC's current hit, "Desperate Housewives"; and Felicia Day from Fox's "Buffy the Vampire Slayer."
Speaking of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" (both movie and Fox TV series) and "Firefly" and "Serenity," Joss Whedon was the writer man behind all of them, not to mention other acclaimed TV/movie things like "Angel," "Alien 4: Resurrection," as well as less sci-fi things like "Roseanne" and even "Toy Story." He's currently working on a sci-fi series for Fox called "Dollhouse," scheduled for a 2009 premiere.
According to this story in USA Today, Joss and his friends set out to prove that out-of-the-box productions could make it in Hollywood. They gathered together some cash "in the low six figures" (to us, sounds like a lot; to Hollywood, it's a bargain basement production), brought on people they'd worked with (Harris, Fillon, and Day), and asked "What if?" "Dr. Horrible" was the result and, again, per the article, it has become everything a viral-video-maker dreams of: a word-of-mouth smash hit.
As of this writing, Friday, June 18, 2008, the first two episodes of the series are live on the web, free to view; the third and final installment is scheduled to be put up on Saturday, 7/19. However, the entire series will only be available for viewing through July 20. After that, the videos will only be available on iTunes for paid download (at iTunes' standard rates, $1.99 per episode). A DVD distribution is also planned at a later date.
And herein lies the "rub" about viral videos: No one has found out a sure-fire way of making any money off of them, even ones that have professional cinematography and brilliant writing. So they're left with uploading their work(s) to YouTube and hoping, somehow, that they'll be "discovered" by a Hollywood producer. Unfortunately, YouTube and Hollywood have not been on the best terms, given YouTubers penchant for digitizing and uploading Hollywood's copyrighted content onto the site for viewing by anyone--and this is the really contentious part--for free. However, things may be changing in that vein. YouTube has cut a deal with Lions Gate Entertainment to offer clips of its movies (ad supported) on the site; and Microsoft is allowing users of its TiVo digital video recorder hardware/service to download YouTube videos for viewing on their regular televisions.
And, lest you ask, yes, you can watch clips of opera performers and performances, past and present, on YouTube, although, like Hollywood's content, some of performances may be illegally uploaded, copyrighted productions. You can't be arrested for watching them should you so deem; YouTube is the responsible party. Some local and regional companies even put clips of their opera productions up for publicity and notoriety's sake.
Anyway, if you get a chance, I highly recommend seeing "Dr. Horrible." Think of it as a cheaper alternative to the film adaptation of the hit Broadway musical "Mama Mia," (which, of course, in turn was an adaptation of the music of the 70s supergroup, Abba... and I'm not bad mouthing, "Mama Mia"; preliminary reviews have been quite favorable.) So you have your choice of Hollywood film stars singing: Meryl Streep, Pierce Brosnan, and Colin Firth in "Mama Mia" or Neil Patrick Harris, Nathan Fillon, and Felicia Day in "Dr. Horrible."
Okay, I admit it: Even though I pride myself on my geekdom, I've had a hard time getting into the "viral video" thing. (definition: viral video.) Yes, occasionally I'll click on a link and watch something on YouTube, but it's not like I'm going to YouTube every other hour to see what people are posting. For that matter, I don't usually watch any video on the web; I like the quiet of reading a news story on the web instead of watching an ABC News or AP video with concomitant preceding commercial. At least I can, for the most part, ignore the print ads, even the ones with animated monkeys.
"So, what's this got to do with opera?" you may be asking? Well, as far as "true" opera, nothing; it's more up the "musical" alley. During the recent Hollywood writer's strike, a few bored penners, Joss Whedon and his brothers, Zach and Jed, and Jed's fianceé, Maurissa Tancharoen, decided to get off their couches and do something fun with a bunch of their talented friends, something they would not have been able to do while employed: write, direct, and produce a short film on their own. The result is "Dr. Horrible," a web-only viral video musical adventure super-villan comedy miniseries, starring Neil Patrick Harris, aka TV's "Doogie Howser, MD" and currently star of the well-received CBS sitcom, "How I Met Your Mother"; Nathan Fillon from Fox's "Firefly" and its feature-length theater fodder, "Serenity", not to mention ABC's current hit, "Desperate Housewives"; and Felicia Day from Fox's "Buffy the Vampire Slayer."
Speaking of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" (both movie and Fox TV series) and "Firefly" and "Serenity," Joss Whedon was the writer man behind all of them, not to mention other acclaimed TV/movie things like "Angel," "Alien 4: Resurrection," as well as less sci-fi things like "Roseanne" and even "Toy Story." He's currently working on a sci-fi series for Fox called "Dollhouse," scheduled for a 2009 premiere.
According to this story in USA Today, Joss and his friends set out to prove that out-of-the-box productions could make it in Hollywood. They gathered together some cash "in the low six figures" (to us, sounds like a lot; to Hollywood, it's a bargain basement production), brought on people they'd worked with (Harris, Fillon, and Day), and asked "What if?" "Dr. Horrible" was the result and, again, per the article, it has become everything a viral-video-maker dreams of: a word-of-mouth smash hit.
As of this writing, Friday, June 18, 2008, the first two episodes of the series are live on the web, free to view; the third and final installment is scheduled to be put up on Saturday, 7/19. However, the entire series will only be available for viewing through July 20. After that, the videos will only be available on iTunes for paid download (at iTunes' standard rates, $1.99 per episode). A DVD distribution is also planned at a later date.
And herein lies the "rub" about viral videos: No one has found out a sure-fire way of making any money off of them, even ones that have professional cinematography and brilliant writing. So they're left with uploading their work(s) to YouTube and hoping, somehow, that they'll be "discovered" by a Hollywood producer. Unfortunately, YouTube and Hollywood have not been on the best terms, given YouTubers penchant for digitizing and uploading Hollywood's copyrighted content onto the site for viewing by anyone--and this is the really contentious part--for free. However, things may be changing in that vein. YouTube has cut a deal with Lions Gate Entertainment to offer clips of its movies (ad supported) on the site; and Microsoft is allowing users of its TiVo digital video recorder hardware/service to download YouTube videos for viewing on their regular televisions.
And, lest you ask, yes, you can watch clips of opera performers and performances, past and present, on YouTube, although, like Hollywood's content, some of performances may be illegally uploaded, copyrighted productions. You can't be arrested for watching them should you so deem; YouTube is the responsible party. Some local and regional companies even put clips of their opera productions up for publicity and notoriety's sake.
Anyway, if you get a chance, I highly recommend seeing "Dr. Horrible." Think of it as a cheaper alternative to the film adaptation of the hit Broadway musical "Mama Mia," (which, of course, in turn was an adaptation of the music of the 70s supergroup, Abba... and I'm not bad mouthing, "Mama Mia"; preliminary reviews have been quite favorable.) So you have your choice of Hollywood film stars singing: Meryl Streep, Pierce Brosnan, and Colin Firth in "Mama Mia" or Neil Patrick Harris, Nathan Fillon, and Felicia Day in "Dr. Horrible."
Sunday, July 13, 2008
The lure of the supernumary
Found this article in the LA Times. Opera Pacific in Orange County is looking for supers for the upcoming year.
Okay, first of all, this is in the LA Times, but it reads like something you might find in the Knoxville News Sentinel or even the Farragut Press Enterprise. I'm not an elitist... at least, don't think I am... but I expect a bit more from the LA Times than I do from a local paper. I suspect that David Colker, "Los Angeles Time Staff Writer," pretty much was spoon fed this article by Opera Pacific. Granted, what can you say about being a super in a regional opera company? Go to a few rehearsals, see opera stars either on their way up or on their way down, wear a smelly costume, and give up a week or two of your life for production, get paid a few bucks, and revel in accolades--or jeers--from family and friends who see you onstage.
On a lark, I went to the link on the Pacific Opera website regarding volunteers mentioned in the article. Surprisingly, it closely resembles the KO website's volunteer page. "We need you to help with this and that--telemarket tickets, answer phones, help with fundraisers, etc." I didn't find anything about supers on our site, though. (One note, and I'm trying not to make this sound like a complaint, the KO website has nothing about the upcoming season on it.) Again, because here the KO is in K-town, a stone's throw up the road from hillbillyville, and there Opera Pacific is in a 'burb of one of the largest and most culturally diverse cities in the world. It's somewhat surprising that OP should have to beg (C'mon, let's be frank: that's what the LA Times article is) for people to help out, little alone perform with them.
But the kicker was when I opened OP's application for superdom (Microsoft Word format) . (In KO's defense, the OP application was for the past 2007-2008 season, so we're not the only ones behind the curve websitewise.) It's pretty specific, especially the section about being able to lift 40 pounds: "Do you have any physical limitations that would prevent you from doing this kind of strenuous activity? Y or N Please explain. if you would like. Wha?! Suddenly the opera company wants to know your medical history?! "Took a bullet in 'Nam; nearly died; have artificial titanium and nylon hip socket that aches if I pick up shrieking sopranos. That explanation enough for you?" And it goes on and on! Nearly four pages worth of personal info: Your performance history, availability, wig-and-makeup knowledge, etc. I'm surprised they don't ask for transcripts and a copy of your medical files. I can just see Don T. asking some of our regular supers questions like these... or any of us choristers, for that matter. That would be interesting to watch. "You want to know specifics of my hysterectomy? As if!" Oh! And I forgot! OP wants a full-length photo of you submitted with the app.
It's funny, though, how different KO is from OP. Don rarely has trouble finding enough supers for our productions unless it's some kind of huge crowd scene. We have our usual suspects that return again and again, year after year. I wonder how much turnover OP has in the super department? It must be more than KO's. So, apparently, we're doing something right. Maybe it's because we are kind of a family at KO. I would imagine that OP, being in a more "professional" town might not be that way. It may not be that OP is a fun place to work, that everyone, by and large, tries to enjoy themselves at rehearsals, and wants everyone else to enjoy it, too. Sure, OP is a probably a lot more efficient at staging (supers are only called about eight times, according to the OP website), but is that worth having a good laugh or two? Maybe so, maybe no. And speaking of "worth," OP pays $5 a rehearsal and $10 for performance to supers; I don't know specifics, but I suspect that Don insists on our guys getting more than that. Maybe in LA there are more people slavering to see opera singers up close and personal and would do the super job for free if they had to.
Curious, I tried to find specifics out about the OP chorus, but the website only said something like "come back soon." So I looked up the OP staff, hoping to find a chorus link there. I didn't find what I was looking for, but what I did notice was the massive amount of staff that OP has to support, everything from "President and CEO" (a titular position? doubt that, given the "CEO" moniker) on down to "Ticket Services Associate." I count about 30 people on the payroll at OP, assuming all of those listed draw a paycheck. What's that? Like, 200% more than KO has?
Well, I suppose that, given its location, OP has a broad base of support (read "money") and can afford to do four productions and four performances, and has ample crowds to back them up. Still, from a super standpoint, wouldn't you rather be here?
Okay, first of all, this is in the LA Times, but it reads like something you might find in the Knoxville News Sentinel or even the Farragut Press Enterprise. I'm not an elitist... at least, don't think I am... but I expect a bit more from the LA Times than I do from a local paper. I suspect that David Colker, "Los Angeles Time Staff Writer," pretty much was spoon fed this article by Opera Pacific. Granted, what can you say about being a super in a regional opera company? Go to a few rehearsals, see opera stars either on their way up or on their way down, wear a smelly costume, and give up a week or two of your life for production, get paid a few bucks, and revel in accolades--or jeers--from family and friends who see you onstage.
On a lark, I went to the link on the Pacific Opera website regarding volunteers mentioned in the article. Surprisingly, it closely resembles the KO website's volunteer page. "We need you to help with this and that--telemarket tickets, answer phones, help with fundraisers, etc." I didn't find anything about supers on our site, though. (One note, and I'm trying not to make this sound like a complaint, the KO website has nothing about the upcoming season on it.) Again, because here the KO is in K-town, a stone's throw up the road from hillbillyville, and there Opera Pacific is in a 'burb of one of the largest and most culturally diverse cities in the world. It's somewhat surprising that OP should have to beg (C'mon, let's be frank: that's what the LA Times article is) for people to help out, little alone perform with them.
But the kicker was when I opened OP's application for superdom (Microsoft Word format) . (In KO's defense, the OP application was for the past 2007-2008 season, so we're not the only ones behind the curve websitewise.) It's pretty specific, especially the section about being able to lift 40 pounds: "Do you have any physical limitations that would prevent you from doing this kind of strenuous activity? Y or N Please explain. if you would like. Wha?! Suddenly the opera company wants to know your medical history?! "Took a bullet in 'Nam; nearly died; have artificial titanium and nylon hip socket that aches if I pick up shrieking sopranos. That explanation enough for you?" And it goes on and on! Nearly four pages worth of personal info: Your performance history, availability, wig-and-makeup knowledge, etc. I'm surprised they don't ask for transcripts and a copy of your medical files. I can just see Don T. asking some of our regular supers questions like these... or any of us choristers, for that matter. That would be interesting to watch. "You want to know specifics of my hysterectomy? As if!" Oh! And I forgot! OP wants a full-length photo of you submitted with the app.
It's funny, though, how different KO is from OP. Don rarely has trouble finding enough supers for our productions unless it's some kind of huge crowd scene. We have our usual suspects that return again and again, year after year. I wonder how much turnover OP has in the super department? It must be more than KO's. So, apparently, we're doing something right. Maybe it's because we are kind of a family at KO. I would imagine that OP, being in a more "professional" town might not be that way. It may not be that OP is a fun place to work, that everyone, by and large, tries to enjoy themselves at rehearsals, and wants everyone else to enjoy it, too. Sure, OP is a probably a lot more efficient at staging (supers are only called about eight times, according to the OP website), but is that worth having a good laugh or two? Maybe so, maybe no. And speaking of "worth," OP pays $5 a rehearsal and $10 for performance to supers; I don't know specifics, but I suspect that Don insists on our guys getting more than that. Maybe in LA there are more people slavering to see opera singers up close and personal and would do the super job for free if they had to.
Curious, I tried to find specifics out about the OP chorus, but the website only said something like "come back soon." So I looked up the OP staff, hoping to find a chorus link there. I didn't find what I was looking for, but what I did notice was the massive amount of staff that OP has to support, everything from "President and CEO" (a titular position? doubt that, given the "CEO" moniker) on down to "Ticket Services Associate." I count about 30 people on the payroll at OP, assuming all of those listed draw a paycheck. What's that? Like, 200% more than KO has?
Well, I suppose that, given its location, OP has a broad base of support (read "money") and can afford to do four productions and four performances, and has ample crowds to back them up. Still, from a super standpoint, wouldn't you rather be here?
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Live Streaming Bayreuth
So, you don't want to be on a waiting list for seven years before getting live tickets to the Bayreuth Festival, and you don't want to wait the several years for a potential DVD to be released of the performances there (assuming they're acceptable and marketable enough for DVD). What's a Wagner lover to do?
Technology to the rescue! You can experience all the thrills of live, grand Wagner from Bayreuth from your office or easy chair... well, "live" streaming audio and video, anyway. For those of you who aren't tech officiandos, "streaming" means sending a digital real-time audio-video broadcast over the World-Wide Web. Cameras and mics capture the action, the picture and sound are digitized and broken into packets of data that are sent to a central distribution hub that creates copies of those packets and sends them out to computers all over the Internet where they are reassembled into a "live" audio and video stream to play on your monitor and through your computer's speakers. Yes, technically, it's not "live" live--there is a delay of a few seconds to a few minutes--but a little research will reveal that even "live" TV shows are rarely not on a few seconds of digital delay, especially in the post-Janet-Jackson-Superbowl-halftime-show-wardrobe-malfunction era. That's about as live as things get without being there in person.
Of course, Bayreuth will charge you for it: $77 to be exact... per production. Ouch! But, wait! Think about that for a minute: Think of it as pay-per-view. A quick check of my own local pay-per-view events lines up as such:
Soooo, $77 is not that big a stretch, is it? I mean, if you're plopping down fifty bucks to watch a live-action cartoon... You need to face it! That's what wrestling is, right?... Why not spend the extra $22.99 to watch something quality? And while wrestling will entertain you for the requisite two hours, with "Meistersinger" will keep you enthralled for about five hours. (I'd be very curious to see a show of hands of people that would fall into the demographic of both events, please.)
Okay, let's compare apples to apples, shall we? The recent high-definition rebroadcasts of Met productions run, what? $24 or so? And those were "canned" videotaped productions in which a performance was filmed and later edited out for content and run-time. Hardly live. Ah! I recently documented a simulcast of a San Francisco Opera production at AT&T park. Hard to beat the price there--free. Of course, you won't have the comfort of your own couch, the convenience (and thriftiness) of your own fridge, and the use of your own personal bathroom for that... and you certainly can't see the performance when you're, uh... indisposed. However, thanks to your trusty laptop and a "wi-fi" router/switch in your home, you're more than welcome to drag "Götterdämmerung" in with you. (Yes, I know it sounds gross, but surely you've drug a magazine or novel in there... or maybe you've already installed a TV in your "'loo.") You won't miss a minute of the action.
Or you can just wait for the DVD to come out this November.
Technology to the rescue! You can experience all the thrills of live, grand Wagner from Bayreuth from your office or easy chair... well, "live" streaming audio and video, anyway. For those of you who aren't tech officiandos, "streaming" means sending a digital real-time audio-video broadcast over the World-Wide Web. Cameras and mics capture the action, the picture and sound are digitized and broken into packets of data that are sent to a central distribution hub that creates copies of those packets and sends them out to computers all over the Internet where they are reassembled into a "live" audio and video stream to play on your monitor and through your computer's speakers. Yes, technically, it's not "live" live--there is a delay of a few seconds to a few minutes--but a little research will reveal that even "live" TV shows are rarely not on a few seconds of digital delay, especially in the post-Janet-Jackson-Superbowl-halftime-show-wardrobe-malfunction era. That's about as live as things get without being there in person.
Of course, Bayreuth will charge you for it: $77 to be exact... per production. Ouch! But, wait! Think about that for a minute: Think of it as pay-per-view. A quick check of my own local pay-per-view events lines up as such:
- Ultimate Fighting Championship 86 - $44.99
- TNA Wrestling - $29.99
- WWE Wrestling - $39.99
- Boxing - $49.99
Soooo, $77 is not that big a stretch, is it? I mean, if you're plopping down fifty bucks to watch a live-action cartoon... You need to face it! That's what wrestling is, right?... Why not spend the extra $22.99 to watch something quality? And while wrestling will entertain you for the requisite two hours, with "Meistersinger" will keep you enthralled for about five hours. (I'd be very curious to see a show of hands of people that would fall into the demographic of both events, please.)
Okay, let's compare apples to apples, shall we? The recent high-definition rebroadcasts of Met productions run, what? $24 or so? And those were "canned" videotaped productions in which a performance was filmed and later edited out for content and run-time. Hardly live. Ah! I recently documented a simulcast of a San Francisco Opera production at AT&T park. Hard to beat the price there--free. Of course, you won't have the comfort of your own couch, the convenience (and thriftiness) of your own fridge, and the use of your own personal bathroom for that... and you certainly can't see the performance when you're, uh... indisposed. However, thanks to your trusty laptop and a "wi-fi" router/switch in your home, you're more than welcome to drag "Götterdämmerung" in with you. (Yes, I know it sounds gross, but surely you've drug a magazine or novel in there... or maybe you've already installed a TV in your "'loo.") You won't miss a minute of the action.
Or you can just wait for the DVD to come out this November.
Monday, June 30, 2008
ADHD Entry
I think I've mentioned on occasion that I suffer from attention-deficit disorder. So, in honor of that, I submit today's "all over the map" entry.
"Drive" for Dallas Opera
Just a note about Dallas Opera's fiscal success this year. And building a new performing arts center to boot!
I suppose that, given all the oil money that floats around that town, you should take some (very) small consolation that you are helping the world of opera the next time you fill up your tank.
Do we really need to see that?
An article in yesterday's Sydney Morning Herald (Would that be our today or their yesterday?) refutes the rumor that Opera Australia demanded that German director Elke Neidhardt clean up an apparent "Full Monte" scene planned for her production of Don Giovanni. Nevertheless, Hungarian bass Gabor Bretz will be wearing a G-string when he steps out of a shower on stage. Neidhardt does seem a little flustered about that addition to the costume budget, and gives, uh... "ample" (?) examples of recent on-stage nudity in European productions. (Supports my recent monologue on German opera trends.) I tried to Google (insert own risqué joke here) the English National Opera production she referenced, but couldn't find it. But this article appears to support the hypothesis that, by East Tennessee's admittedly Bible-belt standards, the ENO has no problem with, um... ah... "progressive" attitudes on staging.
Puccini... Reconstructred
Everyone wonders how "Turandot" might have sounded had Puccini completed it in toto before his death. But some are more interested in the first performances of what we today consider "finished" works.
Case in point: Puccini's "Edgar," which was so ill-received at its premiere in 1889 that Puccini undertook an extensive revision of the work to make it more audience friendly. That sounds a bit ominous, given what Hollywood writers regularly do to great literary works to make their movie adaptations more "audience friendly.", i.e., dumb them down, change scenes, endings, characters, etc. But, in the case of "Edgar," at least, someone has seen fit to attempt to un-revise Puccini's work back to its original form. The editor/re-reviser, Linda Fairtile, head of the University of Richmond (Virginia) Parsons Music Library, undertook the project as a labor of love with Puccini's publisher, Ricordi, and was surprised to find that the Puccini family was very interested in it also, contributing missing pieces of the original manuscript. The revision of performed last Wednesday in Turino, Italy, with Ms. Fairtile in attendance.
"Drive" for Dallas Opera
Just a note about Dallas Opera's fiscal success this year. And building a new performing arts center to boot!
I suppose that, given all the oil money that floats around that town, you should take some (very) small consolation that you are helping the world of opera the next time you fill up your tank.
Do we really need to see that?
An article in yesterday's Sydney Morning Herald (Would that be our today or their yesterday?) refutes the rumor that Opera Australia demanded that German director Elke Neidhardt clean up an apparent "Full Monte" scene planned for her production of Don Giovanni. Nevertheless, Hungarian bass Gabor Bretz will be wearing a G-string when he steps out of a shower on stage. Neidhardt does seem a little flustered about that addition to the costume budget, and gives, uh... "ample" (?) examples of recent on-stage nudity in European productions. (Supports my recent monologue on German opera trends.) I tried to Google (insert own risqué joke here) the English National Opera production she referenced, but couldn't find it. But this article appears to support the hypothesis that, by East Tennessee's admittedly Bible-belt standards, the ENO has no problem with, um... ah... "progressive" attitudes on staging.
Puccini... Reconstructred
Everyone wonders how "Turandot" might have sounded had Puccini completed it in toto before his death. But some are more interested in the first performances of what we today consider "finished" works.
Case in point: Puccini's "Edgar," which was so ill-received at its premiere in 1889 that Puccini undertook an extensive revision of the work to make it more audience friendly. That sounds a bit ominous, given what Hollywood writers regularly do to great literary works to make their movie adaptations more "audience friendly.", i.e., dumb them down, change scenes, endings, characters, etc. But, in the case of "Edgar," at least, someone has seen fit to attempt to un-revise Puccini's work back to its original form. The editor/re-reviser, Linda Fairtile, head of the University of Richmond (Virginia) Parsons Music Library, undertook the project as a labor of love with Puccini's publisher, Ricordi, and was surprised to find that the Puccini family was very interested in it also, contributing missing pieces of the original manuscript. The revision of performed last Wednesday in Turino, Italy, with Ms. Fairtile in attendance.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Carmen Smuggler Trail Found!
Check out this video! (Acrophobics be warned!) Bizet could not have known of this trail when he was writing Carmen, (the opera premiered in 1875; the walkway wasn't built until 1901) but I'll bet he was imagining something of the sort. As luck would have it, it is in the very gypsy region of Andalusia in Spain. Prends garde de faire un faux pas! Prends garde!
If that doesn't get your jollies on, I found this link last year about a trail in China that makes the Camino del Rey trail above look like the Cades Cove loop (in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park)!
Now, the next time you complain about lax safety regulations in the U.S....
If that doesn't get your jollies on, I found this link last year about a trail in China that makes the Camino del Rey trail above look like the Cades Cove loop (in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park)!
Now, the next time you complain about lax safety regulations in the U.S....
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Those Crazy Germans... and Swiss
It never fails: Every time I'm over at the KO office, some issue of Opera News will catch my eye with a cover featuring outrageous sets or costumes that make you wonder, "Which opera could that be?" (Note: I don't get Opera News, myself, so I rely on the KO's office copies to keep me informed.)
Almost invariably, the outrageous cover will be a production from a European company, and usually from Germany or Switzerland. After all, Europeans are far more, uh... "continental" than we folk from "the colonies." They've had opera over there for over 500 years, so the old stage adage that "everything's been done" is probably the watchword of any company doing a new production that wants to be noticed. (After all, it got my attention on the Opera News cover.) My all-time favorite Opera News cover was one of a couple of characters singing in front of a giant, green Tyrannosaurus Rex dinosaur. It was so shocking, as a matter of fact, that I can't remember what opera it was, but I do remember it was done by some German house.
Now, I'm no expert by any means, but I can't think of any opera, ancient or modern, that calls for "giant green T. Rex situated upstage left." What? Are they doing an operatic version of the Saturday morning TV serial, Land of the Lost? "Marshall, Will, and Holly, on a routine expedition..." Heaven forbid! Nobody get the idea to do this! I hated that show! Dear Don, should some idiot ever write an opera based on LOTL--let's face it, when Jerry Springer is fair game, all bets are off!--and by some incredibly improbable circumstance the KO decides to do it, count me out! I'll not be seen on stage as a Sleestak singing "Sssssssss sssssssssss." (And, lest anyone ask, yes, I do know they're working on a movie adaptation. Yet another indelible sign of the eminent Apocalypse!)
Anyway, it was no surprise when my trolling of opera news on Google turned up this review of Zurich Opera's production of Handel's Rinaldo set not during the First Crusade but in an airport.
Yes, that's right, an airport. Why yes, of course! Why didn't I see the similarities between the goings-on at a busy aiport like Logan International in Boston and the eleventh-century siege of Jerusalem? It's so obvious!
Not! As if! Poor Handel. It's bad enough that his Messiah is almost invariably reduced to a single chorus sung during Christmas and Easter by choirs that have no tenors good enough to sing the high A on "And he shall reign for ever and ev---er" and a soprano section that can only dream of holding top-line F# for 9½ beats, little alone the following Gs. It's bad enough that modern performers cut recit after recit and maybe a few da capo arias from his operas and oratoria... when you can find modern performers even doing oratoria. No! Companies have bent and twisted his plots into creations that little pay homage to the original. (I'm pretty sure that the aforementioned dinosaur opera was a Handel opera, BTW.) Heaven forbid that a modern society that worships Wii and Xbox360--and, of course, golden circle ticket holders can afford PS3s--should have to sit through "long" productions (over an hour) of a bunch of old music--not a Les Paul in sight, even. We'd much rather get things over with so we can get home and watch our Tivo-ed episodes of Grey's Anatomy or Big Brother. Besides, the live human voice is neither live nor human anymore thanks to Cher and Ashlee Simpson. And even before Janet Jackson had her "wardrobe malfunction," networks regularly built delays from several seconds to minutes into their broadcasts of live events so that even "live" events aren't really live on TV anymore.
So we, as performers, as opera performers, have a problem: How to keep the attention of a public that sees ADHD manifestations to be at epidemic proportions alert and entertained for at least 2½ hours or more. Maybe we should only wear costumes of bright primary colors. Maybe we should learn staging that would exhaust Carroll Freeman. Maybe we should forego paying the big bucks for quality principals and focus on gee-whiz sets that are so complex they would give Bill Cheverton a migraine. (As a tech-lover, I have to say that all the stuff that the Zurich Opera's set does--from escalators and elevators to rotating scenes and opening scenery--would certainly keep me entertained.)
Or maybe we should try what Brian is doing by showing Pag alone, with no Cav next year: do really, really short operas. Menotti and Barber would love that; Phillip Glass wouldn't. Or, what about this? Do a Peter Jackson and chop long operas into originals and sequels. Will Scarpia rape Tosca? Will Rudolfo and Mimi live happily ever after? Look for Tosca II and Boheme: The Winter Comes in February!
Hey! I might have something there! People throw their whole lives away to watch the entire series of American Idol. They'll put off major surgeries, schedule early birthing, and tell the boss wanting them to work over on a project where to go. (I wonder if Don would admit that some chorister had turned him down because they just had to watch Idol lol!) And if we picked the right operas, we might be able to go through a whole season with just one, uhh... "production"? Save money on sets, costumes, and other things.
Or, perhaps, we should all pay our dues and join the local chapter of the Society for Creative Anachronism.
"Who are you?"
"A twelfth-century North Umberland knight. What are you?"
"A seventeenth-century French opera singer."
"Dude, how esoteric!"
Oh well, in ZO's defense, they did pick da man to conduct. William Christie is a great early music conductor. I've got some Rameau choral stuff that just rocks! thanks to him. And, who knows, maybe the Met will someday "resurrect the seminal and wildly successful Zurich Opera production of Rinaldo from the mid-2000s."
In the meantime, Don, do you know where Brian can get a giant inflatable T. Rex for the opening scene of Rigoletto?
Almost invariably, the outrageous cover will be a production from a European company, and usually from Germany or Switzerland. After all, Europeans are far more, uh... "continental" than we folk from "the colonies." They've had opera over there for over 500 years, so the old stage adage that "everything's been done" is probably the watchword of any company doing a new production that wants to be noticed. (After all, it got my attention on the Opera News cover.) My all-time favorite Opera News cover was one of a couple of characters singing in front of a giant, green Tyrannosaurus Rex dinosaur. It was so shocking, as a matter of fact, that I can't remember what opera it was, but I do remember it was done by some German house.
Now, I'm no expert by any means, but I can't think of any opera, ancient or modern, that calls for "giant green T. Rex situated upstage left." What? Are they doing an operatic version of the Saturday morning TV serial, Land of the Lost? "Marshall, Will, and Holly, on a routine expedition..." Heaven forbid! Nobody get the idea to do this! I hated that show! Dear Don, should some idiot ever write an opera based on LOTL--let's face it, when Jerry Springer is fair game, all bets are off!--and by some incredibly improbable circumstance the KO decides to do it, count me out! I'll not be seen on stage as a Sleestak singing "Sssssssss sssssssssss." (And, lest anyone ask, yes, I do know they're working on a movie adaptation. Yet another indelible sign of the eminent Apocalypse!)
Anyway, it was no surprise when my trolling of opera news on Google turned up this review of Zurich Opera's production of Handel's Rinaldo set not during the First Crusade but in an airport.
Yes, that's right, an airport. Why yes, of course! Why didn't I see the similarities between the goings-on at a busy aiport like Logan International in Boston and the eleventh-century siege of Jerusalem? It's so obvious!
Not! As if! Poor Handel. It's bad enough that his Messiah is almost invariably reduced to a single chorus sung during Christmas and Easter by choirs that have no tenors good enough to sing the high A on "And he shall reign for ever and ev---er" and a soprano section that can only dream of holding top-line F# for 9½ beats, little alone the following Gs. It's bad enough that modern performers cut recit after recit and maybe a few da capo arias from his operas and oratoria... when you can find modern performers even doing oratoria. No! Companies have bent and twisted his plots into creations that little pay homage to the original. (I'm pretty sure that the aforementioned dinosaur opera was a Handel opera, BTW.) Heaven forbid that a modern society that worships Wii and Xbox360--and, of course, golden circle ticket holders can afford PS3s--should have to sit through "long" productions (over an hour) of a bunch of old music--not a Les Paul in sight, even. We'd much rather get things over with so we can get home and watch our Tivo-ed episodes of Grey's Anatomy or Big Brother. Besides, the live human voice is neither live nor human anymore thanks to Cher and Ashlee Simpson. And even before Janet Jackson had her "wardrobe malfunction," networks regularly built delays from several seconds to minutes into their broadcasts of live events so that even "live" events aren't really live on TV anymore.
So we, as performers, as opera performers, have a problem: How to keep the attention of a public that sees ADHD manifestations to be at epidemic proportions alert and entertained for at least 2½ hours or more. Maybe we should only wear costumes of bright primary colors. Maybe we should learn staging that would exhaust Carroll Freeman. Maybe we should forego paying the big bucks for quality principals and focus on gee-whiz sets that are so complex they would give Bill Cheverton a migraine. (As a tech-lover, I have to say that all the stuff that the Zurich Opera's set does--from escalators and elevators to rotating scenes and opening scenery--would certainly keep me entertained.)
Or maybe we should try what Brian is doing by showing Pag alone, with no Cav next year: do really, really short operas. Menotti and Barber would love that; Phillip Glass wouldn't. Or, what about this? Do a Peter Jackson and chop long operas into originals and sequels. Will Scarpia rape Tosca? Will Rudolfo and Mimi live happily ever after? Look for Tosca II and Boheme: The Winter Comes in February!
Hey! I might have something there! People throw their whole lives away to watch the entire series of American Idol. They'll put off major surgeries, schedule early birthing, and tell the boss wanting them to work over on a project where to go. (I wonder if Don would admit that some chorister had turned him down because they just had to watch Idol lol!) And if we picked the right operas, we might be able to go through a whole season with just one, uhh... "production"? Save money on sets, costumes, and other things.
Or, perhaps, we should all pay our dues and join the local chapter of the Society for Creative Anachronism.
"Who are you?"
"A twelfth-century North Umberland knight. What are you?"
"A seventeenth-century French opera singer."
"Dude, how esoteric!"
Oh well, in ZO's defense, they did pick da man to conduct. William Christie is a great early music conductor. I've got some Rameau choral stuff that just rocks! thanks to him. And, who knows, maybe the Met will someday "resurrect the seminal and wildly successful Zurich Opera production of Rinaldo from the mid-2000s."
In the meantime, Don, do you know where Brian can get a giant inflatable T. Rex for the opening scene of Rigoletto?
Sunday, June 15, 2008
"Being there" for opera: a necessity?
An article in the Contra Costa (San Francisco area) Times caught my eye today. Sue Gilmore, the reviewer, gives a brief synopsis of some of the concerts around the City by the Bay that she has seen recently and a note about another event upcoming:
But, alas, when she gets to the SFO's Lucia production, she says that she will eschew the premiere at War Memorial Opera House on Tuesday night for a live simulcast of Friday night's performance broadcast on the 103-foot-wide "jumbotron" scoreboard at AT&T Park (stadium), home of SF Giants baseball.
What makes her flip-flop on the opera performance? She says, alliteratively, that it's the "dynamite, digitally delivered sound" which is every bit as good as that of the opera house and the fact that her viewing pleasure has been decided in advanced by a producer and videographer. The camera, she argues, can zoom in on a suitably perturbed character at their moment of truth and that the action on stage can be followed much more clearly by the multiple views cameras bring. As defense against "purists," she cites the recent success of the hi-def Met performances that have been delivered to digital theaters around the country which purportedly have amassed an audience of some 920,000.
But there's something else here that she hasn't mentioned, I think, that is the ultimate reason for her preference when it comes to operas. When describing Tuesday's premiere, she says that "when the bejewelled and well-heeled troop into War Memorial Opera House..." she will not be there. That description, to me, conjures up images of Margaret Dumont in the old classic Marx Brothers' comedies: stuffy, snobbish, removed from reality, every bit the socialite who carries on polite superficial prattle with other socialites whom she, secretly, cannot stand. Gilmore contrasts that image with the AT&T Park performances, where she says she's "happy to be rubbing elbows with folks in non-designer non-finery who are drawn by curiosity or determined love of opera itself. She also makes a point of mentioning that the simulcasts are free and open to the public, saying she's "thoroughly heartened by the decidedly democratic atmosphere of the free outdoor events..."
So, no pretentiousness, eh? I'll bet! To her, I'm guessing "non-designer non-finery" means Gap jeans and Aeropostale top. I'm sure she'd hardly associate with someone wearing generic J.C. Penney jeans and a well-weathered Giant's sweatshirt, especially when she mentions watching the SFO's big-screen simulcast production of Rigoletto downtown last fall while "sipping brandy-laced coffee... as the moon rose above the copper dome of City Hall." What, Ms. Gilmore? No Coors Light? And she fails to mention the party of five behind her that was almost surely there, talking and laughing so loudly as to nearly drown out her precious digital sound. Hey, girl! There's a reason it takes 100,000 watts of amplifiers and speakers--not to mention a plethora of digital equalizers, delays, companders, feedback squelchers, and a gigantic 64-channel control board--to deliver sound at a level to be heard over thousands of impolite boors! Not to say that something like that wouldn't happen in the theater, but at least the behavior of the vast majority of the audience would cause them to be, hopefully, slightly more circumspect.
So, what can we learn from this review?
First of all, the picture of aged biddies in furs and ill-fitting sequin dresses stepping out of their limos--or, for the poorer ones, Beamers--to go to the opera needs to be done away with... and with good reason. The idea that it takes a refined demeanor (memorize Amy Vanderbilt) and an aloof sensibility to appreciate opera is just shear poppycock. Wasn't Pavarotti produced from a family of humble bakers? Didn't Jessye Norman get her start singing gospel music at little Mount Calvary Baptist in Augusta? Yeah, highfalutin upbringings, they had. And isn't it odd that an opera chorus is almost always made up of a comprehensive range of people? Everything from poor students--not necessarily music majors--to heavy equipment salesmen and engineers to doctors and professors? Ridiculous! Opera is music; music is a key to the soul; all human beings have souls.
I, myself, though born from a musical background on one side of the family, was hardly groomed to be an opera lover. Oh, I remember on Saturday nights, dad would fire up his hi-fi (yes, long before stereo) and play an instrumental selection from Gotterdämerrung (I seriously doubt he even knew that it was an opera), but then would put on one of his favorite groups, Johnny Puleo and his Harmonica Gang, followed, at my brother's and my insistence, that he play one of our favorite fairy tale albums or something from Disney. Nobody laid any big guilt trip on me to go into music. As a matter of fact, my mom (whose side of the family was the musical one), if anything, discouraged it, having seen her brother go through tough times as a trumpet player. And yet, here I am.
Second, while I appreciate Ms. Gilmore's appreciation of opera as it is, I think she needs to come down off her high horse. The only reason that the SFO has such a snooty audience is because there are few of her generation (as she admits "child of the video generation") and younger that buy tickets and go to the opera. True, tickets are sometimes seem expensive, but don't kids plop down $40 or more to see Britney Spears? Wait! Bad example! Kanye West? I can't remember what the face value of Bonnaroo tickets, but I know that they sell from scalpers online for up to $1,000. Don't talk to me about tickets being too expensive! You won't see Pearl Jam giving free simulcast concerts anytime in this century, by the way!
I can't fault Ms. Gilmore too much. I mean, I absolutely love to listen to Devo, but I'm not sure that I, in my "advanced" age, would ever want to go to one of their concerts. (Of course, they're even older than I am!) That being said, I can't stand to watch any classical music on TV; I just feel like I'm missing most of the experience of the music. `A chaqu'un son gôut! But get your butt to live performances whenever you can. The very reason there are festivals like Bonnaroo is that there is nothing like what happens musically, socially, when a perform develops a rapport with the audience in front of him. It's a phenomenon.
- She was a newly resurrected mass by Renaissance composer Alessandro Striggio, noteworthy in that it required a force of 40 and 60 (separate) voices (five choirs), period brass at First Congregational Church in Berkeley. (She neglects to mention that the mass was performed as part of the Berkeley Early Music Festival sponsored by Early Music America.)
- She saw Prokofiev's Violin Concerto No. 1, performed by Alexander Barantschik, principal of the San Francisco Symphony, performed at Davies Hall.
- Next Tuesday night's premiere of Lucia di Lammermoor, with Natalie Dessay in the title role, performed by San Francisco Opera.
But, alas, when she gets to the SFO's Lucia production, she says that she will eschew the premiere at War Memorial Opera House on Tuesday night for a live simulcast of Friday night's performance broadcast on the 103-foot-wide "jumbotron" scoreboard at AT&T Park (stadium), home of SF Giants baseball.
What makes her flip-flop on the opera performance? She says, alliteratively, that it's the "dynamite, digitally delivered sound" which is every bit as good as that of the opera house and the fact that her viewing pleasure has been decided in advanced by a producer and videographer. The camera, she argues, can zoom in on a suitably perturbed character at their moment of truth and that the action on stage can be followed much more clearly by the multiple views cameras bring. As defense against "purists," she cites the recent success of the hi-def Met performances that have been delivered to digital theaters around the country which purportedly have amassed an audience of some 920,000.
But there's something else here that she hasn't mentioned, I think, that is the ultimate reason for her preference when it comes to operas. When describing Tuesday's premiere, she says that "when the bejewelled and well-heeled troop into War Memorial Opera House..." she will not be there. That description, to me, conjures up images of Margaret Dumont in the old classic Marx Brothers' comedies: stuffy, snobbish, removed from reality, every bit the socialite who carries on polite superficial prattle with other socialites whom she, secretly, cannot stand. Gilmore contrasts that image with the AT&T Park performances, where she says she's "happy to be rubbing elbows with folks in non-designer non-finery who are drawn by curiosity or determined love of opera itself. She also makes a point of mentioning that the simulcasts are free and open to the public, saying she's "thoroughly heartened by the decidedly democratic atmosphere of the free outdoor events..."
So, no pretentiousness, eh? I'll bet! To her, I'm guessing "non-designer non-finery" means Gap jeans and Aeropostale top. I'm sure she'd hardly associate with someone wearing generic J.C. Penney jeans and a well-weathered Giant's sweatshirt, especially when she mentions watching the SFO's big-screen simulcast production of Rigoletto downtown last fall while "sipping brandy-laced coffee... as the moon rose above the copper dome of City Hall." What, Ms. Gilmore? No Coors Light? And she fails to mention the party of five behind her that was almost surely there, talking and laughing so loudly as to nearly drown out her precious digital sound. Hey, girl! There's a reason it takes 100,000 watts of amplifiers and speakers--not to mention a plethora of digital equalizers, delays, companders, feedback squelchers, and a gigantic 64-channel control board--to deliver sound at a level to be heard over thousands of impolite boors! Not to say that something like that wouldn't happen in the theater, but at least the behavior of the vast majority of the audience would cause them to be, hopefully, slightly more circumspect.
So, what can we learn from this review?
First of all, the picture of aged biddies in furs and ill-fitting sequin dresses stepping out of their limos--or, for the poorer ones, Beamers--to go to the opera needs to be done away with... and with good reason. The idea that it takes a refined demeanor (memorize Amy Vanderbilt) and an aloof sensibility to appreciate opera is just shear poppycock. Wasn't Pavarotti produced from a family of humble bakers? Didn't Jessye Norman get her start singing gospel music at little Mount Calvary Baptist in Augusta? Yeah, highfalutin upbringings, they had. And isn't it odd that an opera chorus is almost always made up of a comprehensive range of people? Everything from poor students--not necessarily music majors--to heavy equipment salesmen and engineers to doctors and professors? Ridiculous! Opera is music; music is a key to the soul; all human beings have souls.
I, myself, though born from a musical background on one side of the family, was hardly groomed to be an opera lover. Oh, I remember on Saturday nights, dad would fire up his hi-fi (yes, long before stereo) and play an instrumental selection from Gotterdämerrung (I seriously doubt he even knew that it was an opera), but then would put on one of his favorite groups, Johnny Puleo and his Harmonica Gang, followed, at my brother's and my insistence, that he play one of our favorite fairy tale albums or something from Disney. Nobody laid any big guilt trip on me to go into music. As a matter of fact, my mom (whose side of the family was the musical one), if anything, discouraged it, having seen her brother go through tough times as a trumpet player. And yet, here I am.
Second, while I appreciate Ms. Gilmore's appreciation of opera as it is, I think she needs to come down off her high horse. The only reason that the SFO has such a snooty audience is because there are few of her generation (as she admits "child of the video generation") and younger that buy tickets and go to the opera. True, tickets are sometimes seem expensive, but don't kids plop down $40 or more to see Britney Spears? Wait! Bad example! Kanye West? I can't remember what the face value of Bonnaroo tickets, but I know that they sell from scalpers online for up to $1,000. Don't talk to me about tickets being too expensive! You won't see Pearl Jam giving free simulcast concerts anytime in this century, by the way!
I can't fault Ms. Gilmore too much. I mean, I absolutely love to listen to Devo, but I'm not sure that I, in my "advanced" age, would ever want to go to one of their concerts. (Of course, they're even older than I am!) That being said, I can't stand to watch any classical music on TV; I just feel like I'm missing most of the experience of the music. `A chaqu'un son gôut! But get your butt to live performances whenever you can. The very reason there are festivals like Bonnaroo is that there is nothing like what happens musically, socially, when a perform develops a rapport with the audience in front of him. It's a phenomenon.
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