All Wagner all the time!

For those of you that just cannot get enough Wagner here is the site for you. Live performances of opening night performance broadcasts from the Bayreuth Festspielhaus. Something I found interesting as I scanned the cast lists, was that I didn't recognise the name of one single singer. They have to be among the best opera singers in the world, right, but as I am so unfamiliar with this particular part of the operatic repertoire their talents have been hidden from me. I am planning to listen to a performance or two. It really is time Wagner and I became, at the very least, somewhat acquainted.

Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters

Every now and again I have the urge to beg our wonderful production stage manager, Jennifer Hammontree, to let me be a supernumerary in one of our productions. The feeling tends to wear off fairly quickly but a few months later it's back again. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the term 'supernumerary' - usually known just as 'supers', these are the non-singing members of the cast, who in a movie wold be termed extras. They fill out the stage as crowd members, market stall-holders, soldiers - well, you get the point I am sure. It is rare that supers would rate a mention on a television show but just this last week it happened. Sunday saw the first episode in the latest season of the AMC smash-hit series Mad Men, the show that reveals what a warm and cosy place the advertising agencies were in New York City in the 50's and 60's - not! In that opening episode, the worlds of advertising make-believe and musical make-believe intersected. And was duly noted in this The New York Times article.

Do bears....?

I am a big fan of the staff of San Diego Opera, particularly those concerned with education, marketing, PR and social media. So I follow the company's official blog web-site, Aria Serious? And I was tickled to death to read the latest entry. I have just returned from a weekend camping in the Mount Hood National Forest and before departing made sure I was able to produce a really scary account of Nessun Dorma. It was disappointingly easy for me.

America's Finest News Source

I admit it, I am addicted to the coarse, crass, often vulgar and unapologetically juvenile humour of The Onion. When on the front page I saw the teaser headline 'Struggling High School Cuts Football' I knew that all was not going to be quite as it seemed. I read it, and laughed. I just wish that my laughter hadn't been tinged with wry cynicism. I mean, things really are this bad with arts in schools, aren't they? Unerringly kick a ball between some uprights and you are a hero, play a Scarlatti piano sonata with nary a wrong note and you are a nerd, relegated to the outermost social fringes.

Happy Birthday Ms Graham!

Susan Graham (shown above) was 50 last week. Can you believe it? There are many reasons to love and admire this mezzo-soprano. Her voice, is quite simply ravishing. Her versatility - singing roles from operas that span hundreds of years - legendary. She is brave, too, being unafraid to take on roles in contemporary operas that may or may not find critical or audience acclaim. But there is one attribute that has nothing to do with any of these that makes me such a solid fan of the lady: while pursuing artistic perfection as assiduously as could be, she refuses to take herself seriously. And what she proves over and over is that, well, she can be sexy, too. As she sings in this clip.

A force of nature, who walks around giving opera a very good name. Thank you, ma'am.

Back on the treadmill, Bob!

A few months ago, my friend Bob Kingston decided to take a break from producing his informative and fun blog Dramma Per Musica. I was among many who missed his writing for us and I am happy to report that he has decided he is ready for more and has started blogging again. Go see what he has to say; I guarantee you, it is always worthwhile. Welcome back, Bob.

Robert Ainsley

A heads-up for those of you that enjoyed the first installment of my interview with Maestro Robert Ainsley a few weeks ago. He and I are to meet again later this week and discuss his years at Cambridge University. I hope to have the interview up here next Monday. I can't wait to hear the stories he has to tell me.

Have a happy and productive week!

This past week saw the passing of Australian conductor, Sir Charles Mackerras. He was 84 years old. A man of mind-boggling musical diversity, he managed to be a specialist in the works of composers as different as Mozart, Janácek and Gilbert and Sullivan. Although his parents were Australian, he was born in Schenectady, New York, but moved to Australia when he was three years old. His achievements and honours - including his knighthood which was conferred on him in 1979, can be read about in any of the many tributes showered on him immediately following his death. I am writing of him here today not for the purposes of adding yet another obituary to the burgeoning list of such, but because I shall always remember him fondly as the very first conductor of opera I ever worked with. At the age of eleven I auditioned for, and secured, the gig of playing treble recorder in the orchestra for a then brand-new work written by Benjamin Britten, Noye's Fludde. Rehearsals took place not too far from where I was at boarding school and arrangements were made for me to attend them. Those rehearsals were led by a delightful, and, as I later came to know, very able conductor named Merlin Channon. In due course, there were full rehearsals with the professional singers and the English Chamber Orchestra, leading to the first performance of the piece in Southwark Cathedral in South London, and subsequently in Orford Church, near Britten's home in Aldeburgh, Suffolk. The principal conductor was Charles Mackerras, then aged 32. He had come to know Britten when both men were associated with Sadler's Wells Opera, shortly after the end of the war.

A strange decision

I was surprised to read this article just yesterday. Apparently the OC Register has pulled the plug on its Arts Blog which, after regular postings for a period of four and a half years, has, as the paper put it "run its span". And this was clearly not a mutual desire on the part of the publisher and the blogger Tim Mangan - indeed he said as much in a reply to one of the many comments that appeared in answer to his announcement and which unanimously decried the decision. I say this is a strange decision for the paper to make, because it comes at a time when those whose duty or job it is to communicate to the general public what is happening in the arts, whether generally (as with the OC Register) or on behalf of a particular organisation (your own Operaman) are increasingly becoming aware not just of the existence but of the importance of what has come to be termed 'social media'. I am not trumpeting the demise of print media but there is no doubt that an ever-increasing number of people go to their favourite sites on the internet to glean the information they want, or to keep up to date with matters of particular interest to them. This has led to a blossoming of specialist blogs, covering just about every imaginable topic, an exponential growth in the use of Twitter, for those who want their information in bite-sized chunks, and the continuing popularity of Facebook. An arts blog, such as Mangan's was more than a simple newspaper column. It was a chatty, informative and informal connection between the newspaper itself and a section of its readership. I cannot understand why it was decided that its usefulness had "run its span" and I am hoping that we may soon find out.

Wednesday of last week saw one of the most important days in the entire history of Portland Opera. It was the day that Orange Mountain Records, Philip Glass' in-house record label, released their recording of Glass' opera Orphée. Performances of this work formed a part of Portland Opera's 09/10 season. There are a number of factors make this a particularly event. First, it should be noted that this is the very first recording of this opera and came about at the instigation of Orange Mountain Records. Executives of that label approached Portland Opera prior to the production and asked whether we would be interested in having the performances recorded with a view to later release. So, this wasn't a case of Portland Opera begging for the opportunity to record a Philip Glass opera and making its own approach to the label. Apparently, Glass was so impressed with the cast assembled for this production (including Philip Cutlip, Ryan MacPherson and Lisa Saffer), the conductor, Ann Manson, and director Sam Helfrich, that he considered this the ideal chance to complete the recordings of his Cocteau trilogy (the others being La Belle et La Bete and Les Enfants Terrible.) When show time came, Glass came to town and was present at the final dress rehearsal before zooming off the following day to Europe. The performances themselves were a great success and perhaps the most oft-heard phrase was "I didn't think I liked Glass but..." I have to admit to having used that phrase myself. While I knew very little of Glass's music, it had not captivated me on previous occasions. This opera held me spell-bound and I saw all four performances.

"My early life came from a place of deep curiosity fed by material deprivation."
Robert Ainsley

I thought it might be fun over the Summer to interview a number of members of Portland Opera who are responsible for giving us operas of an increasingly high standard, but who you rarely hear from in person. And who better to begin with than Maestro Robert Ainsley, our Associate Music Director and Chorus Master. Rob and I have things in common - both English, went to Cambridge University and have a fondness for cosmos. Talking to him about his youth and early musical life made me realise that, compared to him, I am basically illiterate and have a tin ear. There was so much to talk about with him I have decided to write about him in three installments. Here's the first one. I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed my time chatting with Rob. I should mention that it is compiled from notes I took at the time but which made only little sense when I went back and looked at them.

Operaman: Welcome to the Commodore Gentleman’s Club and Grill Room, Rob. Thank you for joining me. Take a swig of that bloody mary and let’s get right to it. Tell me about your early years and what brought you to music.

"You can imagine how Burgundy hit me like a ton of bricks.."

It's not much of a stretch to say that the orchestra of the Metropolitan Opera is the best opera orchestra in the world. And, on its day, may be the best orchestra in America. That's a bit more of a stretch, yes, but an argument could be made. The concert master is a man named David Chan. He secured this job in 2000 when he was the ripe old age of 27. Since then he has led the world's greatest pit band in some ravishing performances night in and night out. Those of you who saw the Met HD transmission of Thais last year will doubtless remember his wonderful rendition of the Méditation that somehow infused new life into what has, let's face it, become something of an old chestnut. That was no mean feat. A couple of days ago I came across a New York Times article about Mr Chan from November 2008 that I had bookmarked and had been meaning to share with you. This shows what Mr Chan does with his spare time and spare cash - he's a wine expert. My kinda guy. Apparently, he is a completist:

    "As a teenager, if I discovered one Mahler symphony, I had to know all of them - one Wagner opera, I had to know them all. You can imagine how Burgundy hit me like a ton of bricks. If I had one producer's Meursault Genevrière one night I had to have the Perrières the next night. Whatever would advance the knowledge."

Thank you Mr Chan. You have provided me with the perfect excuse for the next occasion that I awake to find the previous night's Burgundy has hit me like a ton of bricks. I was just advancing the knowledge, that's all.

"I want to teach voice lessons but only for rests. They can figure out the notes beautifully on their own. The rests not so much."
Composer Nico Muhly on Twitter

I loved this tweet for a whole bunch of reasons. First, because it is just so very true, then because it says so much in so few words and then it is just so darn funny! It made me think of John Cage, It was Cage whose music first made me realise that rests in a music score - the silences where an instrument or instruments do not play, are not just a gap in the music but form an essential part of the music. They may increase musical or emotional tension, may allow us to draw a metaphorical or literal breath or to prepare for the notes that follow. In any event, their contribution to the sound we ultimately hear, is a vital one. Cage made this point in, perhaps, the ultimate way in his piece 4'33". Most commonly the piece is performed by a pianist who sits at the piano, starts a stopwatch and plays not a note for four minutes and thirty-three seconds, during which time the three movements of the piece unfold. He then stops the clock and the piece is over. Needless to say, this 'piece' has come in for a good deal of flack since it was written in 1952. The most commonly heard sniping is said to be the comment "Anyone could have written that!" to which Cage famously replied "Yes - but they didn't!" Cage wrote the piece for any instrument or combination of instruments. I thought you might like to not hear the arrangement for full orchestra.

Some time ago I read a fascinating book entitles Beethoven's Hair which recounted how a doctor had bid for and bought at auction a lock of Beethoven's hair. His purpose, other than to own such a wonderful relic, was to have tests conducted to see whether hints could be gleaned as to the cause of Beethoven's death. Such tests revealed that Beethoven had very elevated levels of lead in his body at the time of his demise and that was probably the main contributing factor to his death. New findings and tests pooh-pooh this theory as reported in this New York Times article. Don't click on the link if you do not want to read about having hot wax poured into your ears.

Sunday was our final day in D.C. and there was no suggestion we take it easy and rest up for our trip home. Goldie hosted a brunch for 30 people at an excellent Italian restaurant in Georgetown. In addition to numerous members of her family who, if not local, made the trip from Baltimore and Pittsburgh, we invited Priscilla and Larry, Timm Burrow and his Larry, Marsha LeBoeuf, Liam Bonner and Imani Mosley. Liam is a new friend who I believe has a great career before him. It doesn't hurt his chances that he is very tall, handsome and charming. Imani is a bassoonist friend of mine who has just graduated with a double Masters from Peabody. She and I have exchanged emails and tweets over the last couple of years. She is an expert on the English composer Benjamin Britten so she and I have much musical stuff in common and it was a delight to see her in person at last. We had also invited Anne Midgette, music critic from the Washington Post, who has been a correspondent of mine for the last year, and Michelle Pendoley from Washington National Opera. Unfortunately, Anne was in Seattle and couldn't attend and a heavy work-load from Opera night kept Michelle in her office. We missed them both.

Brunch was noisy and fun-filled. Much champagne was consumed and I believe a good time as had by all. When our guests had left it was time for Goldie and me to head for the airport and cousin Jeff very kindly played chauffeur again. We arrived in good time for our flight which left just a few minutes late and we arrived back in Portland, tired but elated and chock-full of amazing memories.

This trip was one of the most extraordinary few days of my life and for that there are many people to thank (the picture above shows me in the costume shop with Goldie, Marsha, Timm and Priscilla):

Most of Saturday morning and the early part of the afternoon was spent recovering from sensory overload. Goldie and I kept talking over and over about the wondrous events of the night before. We would remember little things and talk about them all over again. You know how that goes. We had planned to go to see the Vietnam War Memorial but really we lacked the energy to do that so we went and had a late breakfast and relaxed for a few hours. Then it was time to shower and don the dinner jacket again for our trip to the Kennedy Center where we were to be the guests of Washington National Opera at a performance of Hamlet. I had seen the Met HD transmission a couple of months ago so was not totally unfamiliar with the piece and was excited that the performance was to be conducted by Maestro Domingo.