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:

• 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.

Apparently Zhang has nothing but contempt for Western performers, saying they needed frequent breaks and could not withstand any criticism. While he never spoke specifically of any of his experiences, one wonders if he was talking about opera performers; he did direct the premier of Tan Dun's The First Emperor at the Met in December 2006. Zhang says:

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?

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.

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."

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?

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:

• 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.

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.

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....

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?

"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:

1. 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.)


2. She saw Prokofiev's Violin Concerto No. 1, performed by Alexander Barantschik, principal of the San Francisco Symphony, performed at Davies Hall.


3. Next Tuesday night's premiere of Lucia di Lammermoor, with Natalie Dessay in the title role, performed by San Francisco Opera.
   

Gilmore gushes on and on about the first two performances and opines about how they could only be experienced live and in person; a recording just wouldn't have the same impact. Speaking as an early music aficionado, I can vouch for the difficulty in capturing adequate performances of Renaissance choral works for many-numbered voices. Masses of that period were written to be performed and, thus, experienced within the voluminous cathedrals of Europe where space for performers and natural reverberation created an ideal atmosphere for the melding of great walls of sound. As for the Prokofiev, Gilmore says that half the thrill of the performance was watching Barantschik "bowing so dangerously close to the bridge, with such vigor and whiplash ferocity in the Scherzo, that you feared he'd saw off the pinkie of his string-stopping hand."

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.

Operas KO Should Do (Again)

So, what's missing from recent KO lineups? What have we missed? Are there any popular operas that we could make a buck on? Are there any we've done minimally previously that would be good now? Here's my list... again, my opinion, nothing else. Plus, some dreaming, and some things that, financially, would be right out.

1. Così fan tutte. Of course, Carroll Freeman and the UT Opera Theater covered this one last year for the Rossini Festival, but the last time the KO did it was in 1995--and, as I recall, that was done in English. One of the courses was translated as the rather saccharine "Friendly breezes bear the message..." Yech. It would be nice to do it in Italian. Yes, I know: tons of recit., which was one of my complaints about Figaro. Still, we've done Figaro, and Barber; we ought to finish the light-hearted trio with Cosi. I doubt we could do better than a story of biker dudes and chicks, but we could give it a shot.
2. Turandot. Yes, big, lavish, long, expensive... all major complaints of some of the operas I blacklisted previously. But Turandot is, arguably, the very pinnacle of Puccini's genius. I mean, really! The music at the top of the Third Act, even before "Nessun dorma," is just an amazing passage! It conveys so clearly the sense of chaos and terror that has enveloped Peking and adds a certain dimension of helplessness and hopelessness. And what opera starts off with more of a dynamite blast than Turandot? "Moya! Si! Moya! Noi vogliam il carnifice! Presto! Presto! Moya! Moya!"
3. Rigoletto. Rigoletto. I included this one even though we are actually doing it next spring. Our last production was 2000/2001. The "Zitti, zitti" chorus for the men is just a great chorus and shows a very different side of Verdi, one that isn't always about singing loud. With Rigoletto,, novice opera-goers actually get to hear "La donna è mobile" in context and not as part of a TV commercial (and discover it's not the be all, end all tenor aria, but just a trifling little ditty). Easy show for the ladies! Fifteen minutes (tops!) and you're done for the night. The guys gotta stay... not like that's anything unusual. Which reminds me...
   
4. Dialogues of the Carmelites. I know I'm expressing an opinion, but this is way down on my list of operas I would want to see again. UT did it in the mid 90s, I think, and I went to see it then. I was curious as, being a choral and church musician, I have enjoyed Poulenc's works in the choral and organ genre. Alas, I was much disappointed. I mean, it was Poulenc, but it was Poulenc at his most depressing. (Actually, I admire UT Opera for doing what I think most would agree is not an easily accessible work.) Though the opera is about an order of nuns, it treats religion in a kind of mid-20th-century existentialist way. So, why do I include it here if I don't care for it? Simple: It's an easy show for the men... for a change!
5. Salome. Yes, I know, another dog. Probably the only opera KO has ever done where there were, potentially, more people on stage and in the pit than were in the audience. That being said, the music is amazing! Not easily-accessible for the average opera-goer, but in having the opportunity to sing a role and, therefore, study the score, Strauss' sturdy command of melodic motives and harmonic atmospheres captivated me. The argument of the five Jews, in the form of a very odd fugue, is genius. Plus, it's a pretty sicko story: Slutty chick has hots for prophet boyfriend but is rejected, gets naked for the king, has said boyfriend killed, and makes love to his head for the last half hour of the opera. Weird instrumentation, too! It was the first musical piece to use the heckelphone. and you won't find too many operas calling for contrabassoon, either.
6. Faust. While we're on the subject of, shall we say, the devilish pursuits of man, we have to mention this opera, as we would if we were talking about terrific chorus shows. There's a ton of 'em: the Kirmesse ("Vin où bierre? Bierre où vin? "Le veaux d'or" ("Et Satan conduit le balle! conduit le balle! conduit le balle!"), and what has got to be one of the bestest, most greatestest men's choruses in all of operadom, the Soldier's Chorus ("Gloire Immortelle"). In trying to memorize it, get the French right, all the verses, etc. I studied it almost constantly, at work, at school, at night, for about two months; to this day, I can sing just about all of it (well, the tenor I part) by memory. Alas! Faust is pretty long and drawn-out, meant for a time before 30-minute sitcoms and 90-minute super hero movies when spending an entire evening at the opera was no biggie. If we could ever find a way to do it again, it would be fab! Heck, let's at least do the Soldier's Chorus on some concert, Brian! It rocks!
   
7. Flying Dutchman. Yes, probably the only Wagner opera we've ever done, and probably the one and only we'll ever do. It's a good chorus show, that's for sure. Even the women get their little sewing circle scene. And of chorus... I mean, course, we ol' salts always singing of the sea and making fun of the steuermann (steersman, navigator), getting drunk, fighting off demons, trying not to listen to off-key offstage brass choirs, and putting up with temperamental German conductors. You have to admit, as hard as the ghost ship scene is, it's an impressive moment both stage- and music-wise.
8. Any Baroque Chamber Opera. C'mon! Just once! Do a Handel or a Purcell, or a Charpentier. There's a special place in my heart for Baroque operas. I aver that some Baroque operas are every bit as good as anything Puccini or Verdi wrote, maybe even better. I must admit to a great fondness for Baroque (and before) music, so I'm a bit biased. Plus, I had the opportunity to see Luigi Rossi's Orfeo performed by some the greatest early music experts in the world at the Boston Early Music Festival in '97. Who's to say that a Knoxville audience wouldn't enjoy one? People know about Handel (that guy that wrote the "Hallelujah Chorus" that everybody has to do at Christmas and Easter), and they probably would recognize some of the choruses from their usage in (even more) TV commercials. Dare I say, even do one that has no chorus! Save a ton of money on costumes, time, etc. (We are quite a draw, though. One wonders how our productions would sell were it not for the hundreds of people that each of us chorus members "recruit" to come to the performances.) Anyway, there. I've put my $0.02 in in plugging early music.
   

In looking over my choices, I realize that my dreams tend toward the more grandiose. And, who knows? It may be possible, sometime in the future, to do some of the more, uh... "involved" (read "expensive") operas. Hey, Brian's worked some pretty good miracles so far! And perhaps, by doing some different operas, we might broaden the horizons of our audience further, allowing us to delve even deeper into the opera genre. Akhnaten, anyone?