So a very good friend of mine, Jeff Bergman, was crazy enough to start a blog about how he was going to listen to classical music for a year and expand his mind, blah, blah, blah. But his blog, A Year of Living Classically (http://yearofclassical.blogspot.com) got noticed by the New York Philharmonic and they gave him free tickets to the performance last night (cough, cough, nudge, nudge Metropolitan Opera? hello?)...anyway, his very lovely, very pregnant wife decided not to go, and that left me to fill the free void next to my high school buddy.
It's been years since I went to the symphony...not since I was in college in Baltimore, before I discovered the opera (the tickets were cheaper and who likes opera anyway?). Jeff, being the prepared, intelligent person that he is, sent me a podcast about the performance we were going to see, the review of the opening piece (a brand new piece by composer in residence Mangus Lindberg), and some other info...not that I read or listened to any of it...which deep down inside I know he expected, he has known me since Freshman year of high school. I didn't do my homework then, you think I'm going to start now?
The Lindberg piece, titled Al largo, I'm sad to say it, but is the reason I'm not that big a fan of contemporary classical music. It was like listening to the sound track of a space epic. Star Wars may be to blame, but who's to know. As a person who has grown up with epic movie sound tracks, this one just sounded like an action packed space adventure, with asteroid belts to navigate, space pirates to defeat, and cosmic bees protecting the alien princess that needs rescuing...but without the actual explosions to entertain the rest of my brain, it was just a bit lack luster. A bunch of loud, fast music, trying really, really hard to be exciting...but in the end was just music...no lingering emotion, just a expectation of when it was over the credits would magically fly by. Jeff liked it a lot, the NY Times, liked it a lot...I know nothing about classical music...it was just OK.
Intermission
The other half of the program was Beethoven's Missa solemnis, Op. 123, which was supposed to be his big devotional to God and all things that are holy. And it was big. Being a child that grew up with Handel's Messiah, it was interesting to see the difference a hundred years makes in "yeah, God!" opuses. Even though the text it draws upon (in the Lutheran Church at least) is used in the Celebration of the Eucharist and the Offertory Prayer (yeah, you didn't know I grew up in the church, did you?) it was very, um, yeah, big. It sounds like it is all about the angry God, and we're for real begging for mercy. And we're really begging, because any minute now one of those giant crashes of percussion and string crescendos will be his wrath smoting us. Whereas Handel was celebrating the beauty of God, there's no anger in the Messiah. Missa solemnis is not a piece I would have called beautiful, it had it's moments. Little spots that give you goosebumps, when you sway in your chair involuntarily at the same moment the violas do, little spots that are very Beethoven.
And 71 minutes later it's over, and I was left wondering what used to bring me to the symphony all the time in college...cause I really missed the costumes and "acting". It's strange, I listen to classical music at home all the time, where as I don't ever listen to opera, because it's just not the same when it's all in your head. Maybe too much TV has ruined my ability to really enjoy stillness.
But thanks, Jeff! I hope to someday return the favor (ahem, Met?).
Friday, 25 June 2010
Monday, 17 May 2010
The end of the season
I apologize, things have been busy, and I've missed filling you in on two separate operas (not to mention a million other things that have passed by in the chaos).
After all this opera talk, constantly reminding everyone of my excitement at finally getting to see Rene Flemming in Armida, I completely spaced actually telling you what it was like. I had mentally composed witty sentences describing how absolutely wonderful she was...which I have naturally forgotten in the ensuing month. Needless to say, she was divine. Beyond divine...exquisite. And the guys were ok, too. Well, except for the one guy, who I swear to God has been in half of the operas I saw this season and he sounds like he's not only singing completely through his nose, but his voice has a quality to it akin to someone who is being attacked by a weasel. I'm not a big fan. But even he couldn't dampen the whole production, because in the beginning there was Rene, and in the end there was Rene, only an angry Rene, and I know that even though the opera ended, Armida would not have let the weasel tenor survive.
And then there was my final opera of the season...Der Fliegende Hollander. I first saw The Flying Dutchman in Baltimore, in a production that absolutely blew my mind and I completely believe solidified my love of opera right then and there...and yet...I apparently completely mis-remembered the opera. I'm not saying that I forgot the story (ghost ship, cursed captain, girl falls in love with a picture of the captain, greedy father, spurred love, no one gets what they want in the end, you know the story), I just seem to have combined Der Fliegende Hollander with another 2 or 3 Wagner operas that actually have songs that conjure memories of Elmer Fudd and Bugs Bunny in Brunhilda costumes (even though I know Brunhilda is not in Der Fliegender Hollander). I swear I had never heard any of this music before, except for the scary ghost ship approaching/storm music that just sounds like blood thirsty pirates must be just beyond the next wave. So in a way it was disappointing, not because it actually was a disappointment, it was just not what 10 years of fake memories had been expecting. And I guess in the end what it really means is that I have to be better about seeing the other Wagner operas so I can actually sort out what it is that's all jumbled in my college opera memories bin...
But the season is over. I have to figure out what to do for next year...another season subscription? There's a lot of repeats next season, Mr. Gleb and Mr. Levine, but there is another chance to see the magnificent Rene. So that's it. 8 operas: some bad, some good, one fire incident, Placido Domingo and Rene Flemming, horses and dogs and dancing children on stage, and now I have to wait 8 months until I get to sit up in those red velvet seats, surrounded by snoring elderly people, and watch completely unbelievable story lines sung by people with completely unbelievable voices...until next October...
After all this opera talk, constantly reminding everyone of my excitement at finally getting to see Rene Flemming in Armida, I completely spaced actually telling you what it was like. I had mentally composed witty sentences describing how absolutely wonderful she was...which I have naturally forgotten in the ensuing month. Needless to say, she was divine. Beyond divine...exquisite. And the guys were ok, too. Well, except for the one guy, who I swear to God has been in half of the operas I saw this season and he sounds like he's not only singing completely through his nose, but his voice has a quality to it akin to someone who is being attacked by a weasel. I'm not a big fan. But even he couldn't dampen the whole production, because in the beginning there was Rene, and in the end there was Rene, only an angry Rene, and I know that even though the opera ended, Armida would not have let the weasel tenor survive.
And then there was my final opera of the season...Der Fliegende Hollander. I first saw The Flying Dutchman in Baltimore, in a production that absolutely blew my mind and I completely believe solidified my love of opera right then and there...and yet...I apparently completely mis-remembered the opera. I'm not saying that I forgot the story (ghost ship, cursed captain, girl falls in love with a picture of the captain, greedy father, spurred love, no one gets what they want in the end, you know the story), I just seem to have combined Der Fliegende Hollander with another 2 or 3 Wagner operas that actually have songs that conjure memories of Elmer Fudd and Bugs Bunny in Brunhilda costumes (even though I know Brunhilda is not in Der Fliegender Hollander). I swear I had never heard any of this music before, except for the scary ghost ship approaching/storm music that just sounds like blood thirsty pirates must be just beyond the next wave. So in a way it was disappointing, not because it actually was a disappointment, it was just not what 10 years of fake memories had been expecting. And I guess in the end what it really means is that I have to be better about seeing the other Wagner operas so I can actually sort out what it is that's all jumbled in my college opera memories bin...
But the season is over. I have to figure out what to do for next year...another season subscription? There's a lot of repeats next season, Mr. Gleb and Mr. Levine, but there is another chance to see the magnificent Rene. So that's it. 8 operas: some bad, some good, one fire incident, Placido Domingo and Rene Flemming, horses and dogs and dancing children on stage, and now I have to wait 8 months until I get to sit up in those red velvet seats, surrounded by snoring elderly people, and watch completely unbelievable story lines sung by people with completely unbelievable voices...until next October...
Tuesday, 6 April 2010
FDNY and one hot Horatio
As usual I have an operatic update for you all: Hamlet, the musical...well, actually that was a really bad movie. But this production was extra exciting...the New York Fire Department made their operatic debut in this seldomly performed piece!
Ok, well, I didn't actually get tot see them, but I did notice the strange, faint smell of fire at the beginning of Act II. But seeing as I'm not a particularly excitable person (even when attending something I enjoy as much as the opera) I just figured that there would be a scene coming up with a bonfire that they were just practicing for. But I've been told that my logic is often very, very flawed.
Needless to say, no body died...well, actually almost everybody died in the final minutes of the performance. And the only real fatality was a poor gell that was too close to the light and happened to melt, probably when it saw Horatio...who was a beautiful, beautiful man. Not only was he tall and blonde and in some very tight tights, but he could sing too! No credit in the playbill, but what can you do (Horatio if you're reading this, I have an event on Wednesday night that you are more than welcome to attend with me...Brazilian guitarist...wine...food...).
Theoretically we were all there to hear Ophelia anyway, whose voice often seemed directly connected to the follical of every hair on your body. Despite her magical singing, it was a pretty blase performance. For the MET, the sets were pathetic (2 moving walls poorly put together with technicolor faux marble) and the costuming was so drab that there was nothing to even look at besides the performers, and although they sang well, that's not enough to keep your eyes occupied (according to the program both the sets and the costume were from Geneva...bad Geneva! Bad!).
It's too bad the firemen didn't actually make an appearance on stage, their outfits and equipment would have spiced things up a little bit...
http://www.nydailynews.com/ny_local/2010/04/06/2010-04-06_fire_is_ultimate_diva_at_the_met.html
Ok, well, I didn't actually get tot see them, but I did notice the strange, faint smell of fire at the beginning of Act II. But seeing as I'm not a particularly excitable person (even when attending something I enjoy as much as the opera) I just figured that there would be a scene coming up with a bonfire that they were just practicing for. But I've been told that my logic is often very, very flawed.
Needless to say, no body died...well, actually almost everybody died in the final minutes of the performance. And the only real fatality was a poor gell that was too close to the light and happened to melt, probably when it saw Horatio...who was a beautiful, beautiful man. Not only was he tall and blonde and in some very tight tights, but he could sing too! No credit in the playbill, but what can you do (Horatio if you're reading this, I have an event on Wednesday night that you are more than welcome to attend with me...Brazilian guitarist...wine...food...).
Theoretically we were all there to hear Ophelia anyway, whose voice often seemed directly connected to the follical of every hair on your body. Despite her magical singing, it was a pretty blase performance. For the MET, the sets were pathetic (2 moving walls poorly put together with technicolor faux marble) and the costuming was so drab that there was nothing to even look at besides the performers, and although they sang well, that's not enough to keep your eyes occupied (according to the program both the sets and the costume were from Geneva...bad Geneva! Bad!).
It's too bad the firemen didn't actually make an appearance on stage, their outfits and equipment would have spiced things up a little bit...
http://www.nydailynews.com/ny_local/2010/04/06/2010-04-06_fire_is_ultimate_diva_at_the_met.html
Tuesday, 2 March 2010
the barber of seville
Has lesbians making out in a closet, a donkey, hams, operatic slapstick, pumpkins being crushed by an anvil, an explosion, a rubber chicken, and a bunch of Seville oranges...what more do you need in an evening at the opera?
Saturday, 13 February 2010
Lower East Side Print Shop Benefit
The Lower East Side Print Shop, although no longer in the Lower East Side, is a fabulous, wonderful print shop. Not only is the print shop lovely, but so are all the people that work there and all the artists that they work with. And thusly, they deserve everyone who has some extra money lying around to give it to them in support and good will. And if you looked in your wallet and said to yourself, "hey! I have a wad of extra cash right here!", you're in double luck! Because right now they are having a benefit auction, so not only do you wind up helping out a wonderful institution, but they give you real, live art in exchange! The list of artist is amazing, including your's truly, and I promise they you can find something that will match your couch. Check it out, pick out your favorites (most are even framed!), attend the auction on February 24th (or you can buy a bunch of them right now online), and get yo'self some art!
http://printshop.org/web/Collect/Exhibitions/benefit10/sale_preview.html
http://printshop.org/web/Collect/Exhibitions/benefit10/sale_preview.html
Wednesday, 10 February 2010
Who wants to hear about my last week?
I can hear you yelling and jumping up and down, "Oh I do! I do!"
Oh and you do, I know.
First, the week started off after returning from a wonderful trip to Disney World (oh yeah! I never mentioned family vacation to the wonderful world of Disney!, next time I promise)...but as I was saying, I had returned from my adventures with Uncle Mickey and was sitting on my couch about to do some work on my computer when my computer decided it didn't really feel like working that afternoon. Hoping that it was a passing technological bad mood, put it away for a nap, reinstalled the programs, and had a little chat with my laptop.
To no avail.
So I tried threatening. Backed everything up on my external hard drive, made an appointment at the Genius Bar and turned on the TV to wait til morning.
Stupid computer.
Got to the Mac Store, they wound up wiping my hard drive do to some terminal whatevers and techy hijinks. No big deal, right? I mean I did just back up everything right?
Oh, I wish.
I get home, ready to attach this issue head on, and reinstall everything and start from scratch. Only it turned out I was the only one ready to start out on this new adventure with my naked computer, it however, had very different ideas. So different that I was shocked. It refused to open anything, much less reinstall my back-ups. Back to the doctor you go, little Mac!
Did I mention that I hate computers?
So I make another appointment at the Genius Bar and hope that this next visit will go better than the first. I arrive in a good mood, and 3 1/2 hours later, I leave in a jubiliant mood, cause they fixed everything and upgraded everything, and gave me a bunch of programs that I was going to have to buy! Success! Life is good! Yeah Geniuses!!!!
Oh I spoke way too soon. Although everything looks hunky-dory, my computer is completely uncooperative, and refuses to load any back-ups. Sigh. To tekserve I now go...but it's Saturday, and I can't get there in time, so I'll do it tomorrow. In the meantime I continue to go about my life. Part of that life involves going out to meet friends and occationally have meetings, but often I do have to leave my apartment. Even if I don't want to. So I have this meeting to go to on Saturday evening, and as I leave my wonderful abode, the door knob spins, but isn't making contact with anything...and then it does, and the door opens, and as I pull it open, the door knob on the outside of the door goes flying across the hallway. For real. It fell off. I have a meeting to go to. Now.
I prop the door open with a giant glass cast rabbit from grad school, and try to reassemble my very confused door knob, with no success. But I have to leave, so I can get in so long as the little nobby thing (you know what I mean, the little knobby that holds the door closed that is worked by the door knob...that's the technical term) doesn't go into the door frame I can use the dead bolt and not worry about it. Right? Grab the duct tape, tape the shit out of it, and test it out. I'm brilliant I'm thinking...and I am wrong. The deadbolt doesn't work if the little knobby is immobilized...but I discover that as part of the deadbolt function, it automatically pulls in the little thingy when you unlock it. So I will deal with this much later, and head off to my meeting. Now late.
Meeting goes well, whatever, get home, let myself in no problem, and that is the last time that door knob worked. Sunday I am stuck in my apartment. If you wanted me to come out and play I couldn't, if I had been hungry for something other than what was in my fridge I was shit out of luck, cause you couldn't open my front door. But it would have cost me an extra $50 to have a locksmith come on a Sunday, so I can wait a day, I mean, what would I go out and do on a Sunday anyway?
Monday comes, I call the locksmith. He arrives, I slide him the key so he can let himself in, he pulls a new door knob out of his pocket, he replaces the pieces of what used to be my door knob, and then he charged me $110...four minutes, $110. I am in the wrong field. No one told me to conscider being a locksmith when I grew up. They should have. Four minutes.
But I am free, hallalujah! I am free! I grab my computer, and cart it off to Tekserve...$220. Cause they can't figure out what's wrong with it, it has to go to the real, real doctor.
Did I mention yet that I hate computers? I think I did, but I'm just double checking.
It's going to take a couple days...meaning four days. Four days with out internet. Four days without being about to print anything. Four days of no computer.
I got a lot of drawing done. It's been long time since I was that productive, a little out of the loop in social circles, missed a few parties in the absence of facebook, but overall I survived.
After four days I got to pick up my very expensive, pissy computer...and even they couldn't make the back-ups work perfectly. They recovered my iPhotos, but I lost all jpgs on both my external hard drive and my computer due to an unforseable software glitch that should never have happened. They could be recoverable, but that would be another $900 and in the future I need to wipe and reformat my external hard drive...not that I have somewhere to put everything on it while that happens...so I should just buy a new one and start all over...what? What? The jpgs are all gone? My portfolio is gone. Everything that I have color corrected and sized, and organized, and bunch by who's seen what and what's been sent where is gone? What? $900...
$900...Did I tell you yet how much I hate computers?
I have a few more days to figure out what I'm going to do, because I can't use my hard drive in the meantime, and I need to use my hard drive almost more than the actual computer. At least my door knobs work now.
Oh and you do, I know.
First, the week started off after returning from a wonderful trip to Disney World (oh yeah! I never mentioned family vacation to the wonderful world of Disney!, next time I promise)...but as I was saying, I had returned from my adventures with Uncle Mickey and was sitting on my couch about to do some work on my computer when my computer decided it didn't really feel like working that afternoon. Hoping that it was a passing technological bad mood, put it away for a nap, reinstalled the programs, and had a little chat with my laptop.
To no avail.
So I tried threatening. Backed everything up on my external hard drive, made an appointment at the Genius Bar and turned on the TV to wait til morning.
Stupid computer.
Got to the Mac Store, they wound up wiping my hard drive do to some terminal whatevers and techy hijinks. No big deal, right? I mean I did just back up everything right?
Oh, I wish.
I get home, ready to attach this issue head on, and reinstall everything and start from scratch. Only it turned out I was the only one ready to start out on this new adventure with my naked computer, it however, had very different ideas. So different that I was shocked. It refused to open anything, much less reinstall my back-ups. Back to the doctor you go, little Mac!
Did I mention that I hate computers?
So I make another appointment at the Genius Bar and hope that this next visit will go better than the first. I arrive in a good mood, and 3 1/2 hours later, I leave in a jubiliant mood, cause they fixed everything and upgraded everything, and gave me a bunch of programs that I was going to have to buy! Success! Life is good! Yeah Geniuses!!!!
Oh I spoke way too soon. Although everything looks hunky-dory, my computer is completely uncooperative, and refuses to load any back-ups. Sigh. To tekserve I now go...but it's Saturday, and I can't get there in time, so I'll do it tomorrow. In the meantime I continue to go about my life. Part of that life involves going out to meet friends and occationally have meetings, but often I do have to leave my apartment. Even if I don't want to. So I have this meeting to go to on Saturday evening, and as I leave my wonderful abode, the door knob spins, but isn't making contact with anything...and then it does, and the door opens, and as I pull it open, the door knob on the outside of the door goes flying across the hallway. For real. It fell off. I have a meeting to go to. Now.
I prop the door open with a giant glass cast rabbit from grad school, and try to reassemble my very confused door knob, with no success. But I have to leave, so I can get in so long as the little nobby thing (you know what I mean, the little knobby that holds the door closed that is worked by the door knob...that's the technical term) doesn't go into the door frame I can use the dead bolt and not worry about it. Right? Grab the duct tape, tape the shit out of it, and test it out. I'm brilliant I'm thinking...and I am wrong. The deadbolt doesn't work if the little knobby is immobilized...but I discover that as part of the deadbolt function, it automatically pulls in the little thingy when you unlock it. So I will deal with this much later, and head off to my meeting. Now late.
Meeting goes well, whatever, get home, let myself in no problem, and that is the last time that door knob worked. Sunday I am stuck in my apartment. If you wanted me to come out and play I couldn't, if I had been hungry for something other than what was in my fridge I was shit out of luck, cause you couldn't open my front door. But it would have cost me an extra $50 to have a locksmith come on a Sunday, so I can wait a day, I mean, what would I go out and do on a Sunday anyway?
Monday comes, I call the locksmith. He arrives, I slide him the key so he can let himself in, he pulls a new door knob out of his pocket, he replaces the pieces of what used to be my door knob, and then he charged me $110...four minutes, $110. I am in the wrong field. No one told me to conscider being a locksmith when I grew up. They should have. Four minutes.
But I am free, hallalujah! I am free! I grab my computer, and cart it off to Tekserve...$220. Cause they can't figure out what's wrong with it, it has to go to the real, real doctor.
Did I mention yet that I hate computers? I think I did, but I'm just double checking.
It's going to take a couple days...meaning four days. Four days with out internet. Four days without being about to print anything. Four days of no computer.
I got a lot of drawing done. It's been long time since I was that productive, a little out of the loop in social circles, missed a few parties in the absence of facebook, but overall I survived.
After four days I got to pick up my very expensive, pissy computer...and even they couldn't make the back-ups work perfectly. They recovered my iPhotos, but I lost all jpgs on both my external hard drive and my computer due to an unforseable software glitch that should never have happened. They could be recoverable, but that would be another $900 and in the future I need to wipe and reformat my external hard drive...not that I have somewhere to put everything on it while that happens...so I should just buy a new one and start all over...what? What? The jpgs are all gone? My portfolio is gone. Everything that I have color corrected and sized, and organized, and bunch by who's seen what and what's been sent where is gone? What? $900...
$900...Did I tell you yet how much I hate computers?
I have a few more days to figure out what I'm going to do, because I can't use my hard drive in the meantime, and I need to use my hard drive almost more than the actual computer. At least my door knobs work now.
Tuesday, 26 January 2010
another opera first
Simone Bocanegra.
My first Placido Domingo performance.
And it lived up to his reputation. He was fantastic. Everyone in the cast was fantastic (almost...a couple needed to warm up a bit, but then they were great). It was the first performance at the Met that you could actually hear everyone signing their parts during a Verdi classic cinquette...or whatever you call them. It wasn't as profoundly moving as House of the Dead was, but it was sung beautifully, and low and behold, Placido can act! He died like 5 times! He's old, man! And each time he did dead-guy face plants.
But that's not the real point of this story...for the first time in all my solo visits to the Metropolitan Opera an old man tried to pick me up. Oh yeah. He came up to me during intermission and offered to have me join him in the seat next to him on the orchestra level. To which I kindly explained that the sound was better up where I was sitting, with a smile naturally. I guess I looked good tonight in my new jeans, ancient sweater, and $5 pashmina...or at least hot to an old German man...and I'll giggle about that for days.
If only he had been as suave as Placido...
My first Placido Domingo performance.
And it lived up to his reputation. He was fantastic. Everyone in the cast was fantastic (almost...a couple needed to warm up a bit, but then they were great). It was the first performance at the Met that you could actually hear everyone signing their parts during a Verdi classic cinquette...or whatever you call them. It wasn't as profoundly moving as House of the Dead was, but it was sung beautifully, and low and behold, Placido can act! He died like 5 times! He's old, man! And each time he did dead-guy face plants.
But that's not the real point of this story...for the first time in all my solo visits to the Metropolitan Opera an old man tried to pick me up. Oh yeah. He came up to me during intermission and offered to have me join him in the seat next to him on the orchestra level. To which I kindly explained that the sound was better up where I was sitting, with a smile naturally. I guess I looked good tonight in my new jeans, ancient sweater, and $5 pashmina...or at least hot to an old German man...and I'll giggle about that for days.
If only he had been as suave as Placido...
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