Paging Doctor Faggot

For the last couple of weeks I have mostly been watching ... opera. Yes, me, opera. First up was WNO's production of Cosi Fan Tutte in the favourable surroundings of the Birmingham Hippodrome, courtesy of the largesse of WNO themselves. My composer (Jeremy Clay - I term him 'my composer' in the safe knowledge that he returns the compliment and refers to me as 'his writer' - we're like that us arty types) and I took up the free tickets due to us in our role as aspiring aria writers.

From what I can tell (and your internet search will back this up) the critics have not taken to this production. The action has been located in an English seaside town, for reasons which, even after mature reflection, have eluded me. Merchant of Venice in Las Vegas, that I get, but this just seemed deliberately perverse. Having said that, the actual realisation of the location was magnificent. Cracking set.

Despite the reservations my overriding reaction was one of pleasurable awe at the potency of the human voice. I could have done however without the enthusiastic grunts of the young conductor (looked like he used hair spray to me - never a good sign) close to whose den we were sitting. Jeremy shared this displeasure so perhaps I have some non-philistine genes after all. All in all a nice night out but I'm not convinced I would have felt so sanguine if I'd had to put my hand in my pocket.

 

If the jury was out in the case of Roberts v Opera, the verdict was irrevocably swayed by my attendance at the world premiere of Seven Angels. This was in the less salubrious surroundings of the concert room at the CBSO Centre. Music by Luke Bedford, words by Glyn Maxwell, both of whom I spoke to prior to the performance. Now I would never have been there but for the recommendation of my writer which does go to show that one of us knows what he's talking about. I've thought about this and, do you know what, I don't recall ever seeing anything on the stage quite so engaging, ever, ever, ever. The music added to the words, the words to the music. Synergy. 2+2=5. The singers could act, or perhaps the actors could sing. A very clever set by Japanese artist Tadasu Takamine. You could hear and comprehend the words, enunciated beautifully in English. Suddenly I get opera. Done properly the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. I'll be back. And another thing - when Seven Angels becomes part of the standard repertoire I'll be the smart arse who got his programme signed by both composer and librettist at the world premiere. For a rather more po-faced review you can check out Telegraph Review

In case you missed it the tag line for this blog entry is my daughters' current favourite response to manifestations of my culture-vulturicity. I understand it is taken from The Hangover. The girls assure me I would like this film. I will report when I eventually get to see it.