Gertsamtkunstwerk

More from Valencia

Plácido Domingo dirige la final de Operalia en Valencia

Plácido Domingo: «El Palau de les Arts tiene una magia que lo hace único»

Plácido Domingo dirige por primera vez la Orquestra de la Comunitat Valenciana

Trece finalistas compiten hoy en el concurso Operalia de arias y zarzuelas

Moments of Passion

La bohème at ROH

If my search requests are any guide, I should have written this earlier.

I only really booked this for the sake of Marcelo Alvarez. If the cast had been of routiniers, I would have skipped it. There's nothing to dislike about Bohème, but there is precious little to rave about. It is often recommended as an ideal 'first' opera, but I don't think I would agree.

I have seen it live at ROH before and have also reviewed a DVD. I can't add much to those thoughts. Nothing happens for twenty minutes, then the first act ends with a gorgeous aria and duet. The second act is a great spectacular but apart from Musetta's Waltz, not a lot going on musically. I am warming to the third act, especially the ensemble that closes it, but nothing in that ensemble is fit to be mentioned in the same breath as the ensemble pieces in eg Mozart's Marriage of Figaro or Verdi's Un ballo in maschera. I retain my view that the fourth act is dire and I just wish Mimi would die earlier. I will confess that the final very few minutes, silence followed by a splendid blast from the brass, struck me as it never has previously. And I dare say I shall continue going to performances in order to catch star tenors and star sopranos.

I attended with Faye and Helen and caught up with Lucia in the intervals, so that was nice, although as I commented later in the week, when attending with people who are knowledgeable and opinionated it is sometimes difficult to filter out one's unique experience and opinion from that which has emerged as consensus in the conversation.

Overall it was a pleasant rather than great performance. I resolved that I would pay special attention to the orchestration, on the basis that save for Che gelida manina and O soave fanciulla there is nothing memorable in the singing bit. But I found nothing memorable in the orchestra, either. Perfectly nice, bland, unchallenging, and enjoyable - up to a point.

Highlight of the evening was Marcelo Alvarez, of course. As soon as he launched into Che gelida, I swooned at his gorgeous voice. Bright ringing tone. Not a perfect rendition, but full-blooded and with balls. Sitting in seat A 40-something in the Amphi was acoustically superb, one of the best seats I've had in that house, a real white spot. Marcelo is not the greatest actor in the opera world, but there has been some debate on newsgroups this week about Stage Presence, which is something he has in spades. An involved and committed performance, reaching out beyond the spotlights. So the fact this acting tends to wooden is easily forgiven, because of the whole-hearted way in which he throws himself into the role. I especially liked the bits he played for laughs, not least the ballet scene in the Final Act. He's a chubby man, not especially elegant, but he carried off his ballet moves with grace, stopping short of being ridiculous.

Katie van Kooten - aka Angela's Understudy - was an insipid Mimi whose performance left me unmoved. A small voice, she failed to convey anything much, and left an impression of a thumbprint in shifting sand. I'm sure we'll see and hear much more of her, but I can't say I'm motivated to rush out and by tickets. Not a great top by any means, almost unintelligible Italian, and I feel she went through the motions rather than acted the role.

Despite the wonderfulness of Marcelo Alvarez, the star of the evening was Anna Leese. A name much talked about in positive reports from minor venues, she was the official cover for the secondary role of Musetta, and was called in to replace the injured Nuccia Focile. What a fantastic voice, stage presence in abundance, and acting skills. She grabbed the audience and demanded we paid attention, her character was the only one that was really three-dimensional. Her big moment comes in Act 2, 'Musetta's waltz' and she made it a Big Moment. Part of the action involved a game of snooker. As it happened , she potted the cue ball, to the amusement of the audience who watched it role to the far pocket with baited breath and let out a murmur of amusement. That was the only flaw in her performance, and she received the biggest cheer of the evening. Admittedly, some of that was the customary acknowledgement of the 'cover' but most of it was surely due to appreciation of her performance. Marcelo also received a big cheer, of course.

The rest of the cast were serviceable but far from outstanding. I should mention that veteran Robert Tear made a cameo appearance as Alcindoro, which delighted old-timers.

So overall a pleasant and enjoyable evening with a competent performance of an opera that I regard as second rate, at best...well, apart Che Gelida/O soave fanciulla, third rate. I suppose that it might grow on me in time, but it's not as if I haven't been exposed to it enough. Perhaps a new production? This current one has been going since 1974 and replaced an 1896 production. So perhaps I might live long enough to see the new one in my seventies..

A right worth fighting for

Time to speak up

It's not an issue that bothers me personally. I have never had an abortion and never will. I have never even contemplated having one,except in abstract intellectual terms.

ButI still think it's a right to fight for. Not for my sake, but for the 25% of women who have had abortions.

Abortion - The facts

· The 1967 Abortion Act made abortion legal in the UK up to 28 weeks gestation. In 1990, the law was amended: abortion is now legal only up to 24 weeks except in cases where it's necessary to save the life of the woman, there's evidence of extreme foetal abnormality or there is grave risk of physical or mental injury to the woman.

· Abortions after 24 weeks are extremely rare, accounting for 0.1% of all abortions (fewer than 200 a year).

· The act does not extend to Northern Ireland. Abortion is only legal there if the life or the mental or physical health of the woman is at "serious risk". There are no clear guidelines, however, and provision depends on the moral outlook of individual doctors.

· In 2004/05, 64 women had an abortion in Northern Ireland, according to the Family Planning Association.

· In 2005, 1,164 women from Northern Ireland travelled to England for an abortion. Women travelling from Northern Ireland for an abortion cannot have them on the NHS.

· According to the Department of Health, the total number of abortions in England and Wales last year was 186,400 (compared with 185,700 in 2004 - a rise of 0.4%).

· The abortion rate was highest, at 32 per 1,000, for women in the 20-24 age group.

· The rate for under-16s was just 3.7 per 1,000 women and the under-18 rate 17.8 per 1,000 women, both the same as in 2004.

· 89% of abortions were carried out when the foetus was less than 13 weeks old; 67% at under 10 weeks.

· 1,900 abortions (1%) were classified as having been carried out because of a risk that the child would be born with disabilities.

· According to pro-choice campaign groups, 1.6% of abortions fit the classification "late-term", being performed at 20 weeks or more.

· Scotland keeps its own statistics and in 2005 there were 12,603 abortions performed, compared to 12,461 in 2004.

Fireworks

Just been walking back from the pub after having a couple of pleasant halves. Walking along Streatham Place. Some horrible children are busy throwing fireworks, with bangs sparks and gunpowder, then running off along Tierney Road. I called the police. The operator said that she'll send a patrol along and if they're still there, throwing fireworks, they'll 'have a word'. Hmm.

Section 80 of the Explosives Act 1875 prohibits throwing or setting off fireworks on any highway, street, thoroughfare or public place...this carries a maximum of a £5,000 fine, six months in prison or both. Or the police will 'have a word'.

I'm certain they are some of the gang of fifteen who beat up a man outside Tesco (he was resuscitated by the Police), whose eye was hanging out of its socket, and filmed it on a camcorder (which the Police confiscated) a fortnight or so ago.

Meanwhile, someone on BBC London News is saying that it's a breach of Human Rights to contemplate fining parents up to £5,000 if their child commits an 'innocent mistake'. Huh? What aspect of these violent incidents is 'innocent'.

We crossed over the South Circular Road (speed limit 40 mph) in the rush hour, in the dark, wearing dark non-reflective clothing, rather than be hit by rockets. Half an hour later my pulse was still racing. Next time, I dial 999.

Misuse of fireworks may also amount to a breach of the peace, particularly where an individual lets off a firework in the street and is causing a nuisance...Under the Criminal Justice and Public Order Act 1986, a person is guilty of an offence if they use disorderly behaviour within the hearing or sight of another person causing them harassment, alarm or distress. This is a more serious offence than breach of the peace.

Trouble is, finding the fuckers, locking them up, and making a case that stands up in court is more difficult than simply passing toothless legislation. And imprisoning the fuckers who sell them would help.

Reviews and stuff

It was hardly worth going Rupert Christiansen going to Theodora

At the Barbican, Emmanuelle Haïm conducted Le Concert d'Astrée in a grave and slow reading of Handel's Theodora that unwittingly seemed to emphasise its lugubrious sanctimoniousness. The soloists' singing was uniformly good – even if Anne Sofie von Otter's Irene couldn't eclipse memories of the late Lorraine Hunt Lieberson's interpretation – yet only in the stunning choruses did the drama come to life as it did in the celebrated Glyndebourne production.

At least I can believe that the Guardian was actually there. More thoughtful and detailed review at MV Daily

A is for Amadeus, B is for Beethoven. Presumably C-Z are yet to come. Can this adolescent-drive-by biographing with deliberately provocative statements rise to Zemlinsky or Zandonai? Or will the Grauniad's characteristic ADD peter out at Korngold...Is it me ageing or is the Guardian becoming increasingly juvenile?

Review of Soile Isokoski's CD and links to a free download (probably only valid today).

Preview of Magdalena Kozená tonight at the Barbican. An all Mozart programme looks enticing; bizarrely, there are still alot of tickets left, from £9 - £35. I can't make it.

Eyebrows and Trebs preview

Lovebirds are not songbirds

They’ve gone beyond the stage where they’re just opera singers,” says Bill Holland, the managing director of Universal Classics and Jazz. If Holland has his way the pair are destined for a cameo in Coronation Street. “I’d love them to walk into the Rovers after their car breaks down on the way to Manchester and give an impromptu performance. Five million people would see that and buy the album the next day.”

Somehow, I can’t imagine Roberto Alagna and Angela Gheorghiu dropping into the Queen Vic for a port and lemon

Oh, puhlease. I've heard that Lasagne and Morticia are connoisseurs of pints of light mild top*. Ange is reputed to be a demon with the darts...

* mild being a form of beer not very popular these days, available in dark and light. 'Top' being a dash of lemonade to subtly alter the taste. Not sure if it's available in the Rovers. Or Queen Vic.

Pepita Jiminez

The Guardian awards 3 stars for this recording of Albeniz's opera. not so much Opera Rara as Opera Obscura.

It's generally frothy stuff, in a kind of Spanish verismo style, even if the tunes are never that memorable. It's beautifully performed under Jose de Eusebio, with Carol Vaness as the widow Pepita and Placido Domingo rolling back the years as her ardent young lover Luis.

Celeb spot spot

I saw someone incredibly famous yesterday but I'm not sure who it was.

Outside the building, I spotted a police motorbike on a blue light, stop at the junction near our building, and I heard the telltale sound of whistles. "Ooh," I thought, "a VVIP". The last one I had seen was senior German government minister; prior to that Tony Blair. Outriders, police cars. Wow I thought, this is VVVIP, more police than the Prime Minister. Who can that be?" An enormous Rolls Royce glided by, looking very like this one with a badge on the front to signify the presence of VVVIP, not merely the chauffeur. In the back I could see two figures, one of them definitely a woman.

Goodwill fatigue

A very long time ago I used to recite, every Wednesday in term time, A Brownie Guide thinks of others before herself and does a good turn every day.

This week I have had good turns forced upon me.

On Monday I was on the Tube. I have observed over the years that the Monday of October half term is the busiest on the London Underground, as few people are away on holiday, and those that are seem to say "Let's take the children to London for the day/weekend/half term" - the preceding Friday is officially the busiest on the roads.

At Victoria people pile on, including a mother and daughter, aged five or six, and she was looking a bit bemused, even scared, at being in a crush of people taller than her. I caught the mother's eye and offered my seat. The mother didn't want to accept, not wanting to put me out, but I stated firmly that I was off at the next stop. So the daughter had a seat. People smiled nicely at me, and, come the next stop, the crowds parted to allow my free passage to the door. (Proving there is no such thing as pure altruism...).

As I rode the escalator at Green Park I reflected that having done my good deed I could afford to be Pure Bitch for the rest of the evening, and if anybody attempted to ruin my enjoyment of La Bohème by talking in the quiet bits or other anti-social behaviour they would be subject to the full force of my ire. Sadly, everyone around me behaved impeccably.

Last night, in the Ladies at the Barbican, I spotted a plastic bag on the peg on the door. Someone's shopping from the foyer shop. I pondered. If I left it there, they might remember they had they had forgotten it, might remember which of 30 or so cubicles they were in. Or not. Or somebody might nick it. So I took it back to the shop, and the chap on the till said he thought he knew whose it was. Another feeling of satisfaction, and another realisation I was now permitted to be Pure Bitch. No opportunity arose.

After the concert I went out to the Lakeside for a cigarette and was privy to not one but two domestics. A man was berating his wife "I'm never going out with you again it's fucking awful you waste half an hour looking at nothing," and she replied in a scarily whiny voice, whining. I was about to go in when two women started a domestic, one of them "That is the worst thing you have ever done, there are no excuses, you've ruined my life," and proceeded to throw a tantrum of foot-stamping, tears and wailing.

I curtailed my cigarette deeply embarrassed as her girlfriend tried to reason with her, and gave thanks that Jimmy and I have a rule of no dirty linen in public. There may be cold words, there may be silences, there may be glares, but no full scale rows with or without swearing and tears. He says he has no desire to provide entertainment for other people; last night's incidents were far from entertaining, just disturbing and unedifying. If they behave like this in public, what happens in private...?

I walked the high level walkway to Moorgate and was approached by a young woman. I was rather lagging behind the crowd and felt a tad vulnerable being alone, in the dark. I quickly sized her up and decided she was harmless and genuine and had lost her way to Moorgate - not entirely surprising in the Barbican. I said I was going that way and walked with her. She was very proper, and we walked a foot or two apart, each of us prepared to trust the other but not to take chances. I considered, she's very young, I'm old enough to be her mother, and that's maybe why she approached me.

It's happening increasingly - a few months ago a girl in her mid-teens stood close, but not too close, to me at the bus stop at Clapham Common, a little scared at being out on her own late at night, but comforted by the presence of an older woman. What can I say? I feel as terrified as you? I am more paranoid about the real and imagined dangers than I was ten years ago? You know I'm hopeless in a crisis? I may look like your mother's generation but I'm not a nurturer and certainly not a breeder? Don't place your trust in random strangers, even though you can rest assured that I will not hurt or harm you in any way and will do what I can to prevent others doing so?

I also sent an email of praise to the IT desk at work naming the helpline person with a can-do attitude. (But that was because I was feeling positive because my manager had praised me, and passed on his manager's praise for a positive customer satisfaction survey he had received back on my last issued report).

I think I have room to be total Pure Bitch over the weekend.

Haydn's Creation

A seriously gorgeous and special piece of music. I was trembling in anticipation this morning as i stepped into the shower. I fairly recently came to the conclusion that it is amongst my top five pieces of music ever.

So tonight, Barbican, mounting anticipation. I tried to order an interval drink but barstaff told me - no interval, and you know, I was pleased - nothing to interrupt the experience.

Names in the frame, as per the website:

Gabrieli Consort & Players
Chethams Chamber Choir
Paul McCreesh conductor
Sandrine Piau soprano
Mark Padmore tenor
Neal Davies bass

I opened my programme and learned that Part 3 would star Miah Persson and Peter Harvey. So, separate singers for Adam and Eve. In the general milling beforehand I saw a man who was an absolute doppelganger of René Jacobs. I thought, either that is René Jacobs or there's a man who bears an uncanny resemblance to him who has a liking for period instrument music....

What a splendid evening. Such beautiful music! Story taken from Genesis Chapter 1 - you know the 7 days*, plus poems from John Milton's Paradise Lost. Three parts: first creating the world, and the land and the sea; second, creating the creatures and man and woman. Third part Adam and Eve blissful in the Garden of Eden before The Fall.

It was a large orchestra - perhaps the largest period instrument orchestra I have witnessed, except for Rattle's Das Rheingold, of course, and a sizeable choir. Massed ranks probably equivalent in size to the LSO for Beethoven 9. A lot of doubling, two sets of timps, two quite separate wind sections and so on. Sadly, no theorbo: there was a theorbo last night, none at La bohème (quel surprise...!), one at Theodora last week, and one at the last Prom I went to, so I was getting into thinking theorbos were standard orchestral instruments...

The orchestra sounded absolutely fantastic. A wonderful tone, and brilliantly conducted, I thought, by Paul McCreesh. It proceeded at a spanking pace and was full blooded, but without the sentimental over-egging of lush strings in the style of Karajan. Sadly, there was a horn flub very near the beginning and I thought, with dread, it's going to be a period horn night. But thankfully, it wasn't. It's hard to single out which bit of the orchestra sounded best. To me they all sounded marvellous. I particularly liked the tympani, which was loud and passionate, I liked the flute evoking the dove and I loved the bassoons evoking the heavy tread of animals. There was a lovely horn passage, and the trumpets were bright and ringing. The strings were bright and acute and sharp (but not in pitch...!)

However, despite the superlatives, there is a catch to that. It's an oratorio, not an orchestral piece. And whether it was the orchestra being too loud, or the soloists not being loud enough, I don't know. It definitely wasn't just me, or my seating position, because two other people made a similar comment before I even asked them.

I was disappointed in Sandrine Piau. I have never heard her live, nor fully on disc, just excerpts, and I'd heard rave things about her. I didn't like her. She squalled the top notes, most excruciatingly in an embellishment in one da capo aria. Not loud enough, except when squalling. I found her rather boring. If my mind wondered at all it was during her arias.

Neil Davies was pleasant, but again not over-loud. A rather generic voice, but delivered his pieces with finesse and precision. Often with feelings. Mark Padmore was definitely the star of the first two parts. I think he has a lovely voice (very English tenor, not the sort of tenor that generally gets much kudos on mmofm), good technique, commitment, passion, and a degree of stage presence, yet, frustratingly he seems to be less than the sum of his parts. And he's certainly no Fritz Wunderlich (but who is...?). Coming out of Wigmore last night, someone said apropos his photo on display in the foyer "Doesn't Mark Padmore look like Tony Blair?" I thought on that particular photo he did seem to bear a passing - but only slight - resemblance, but seeing him tonight with this in mind, I had to agree. But not Sexy Tony so much as Tired Beleaguered Tony.

Peter Harvey was pleasant as Adam, and I could find no fault although I find it hard to pick out the highlights of his performance.

But the singing star was undoubtedly Miah Persson. She looked every bit the star in a turquoise** evening gown, sleeveless and strapless, with a delicate decoration, flowers maybe on the skirt, and as soon as she opened her mouth I fell in love. If Creation is one of my all time favourite works, then the Part 3 Scene 2 Duet and Chorus must count as one of my favourite numbers (By thee with bliss, O bounteous Lord, the heaven an earth are fill'd....The Heav'n and Earth Thy Power Proclaim; we praise thee now and evermore) Miah's singing brought tears to my eyes it was so beautiful. I think I have fallen ever so slightly in love, in a diva-worshipping sort of way. It's not only that she has such a beautiful, clear and musical voice, but she has a dignified stage presence. I don't know how she old she is; she only made her international debut three years ago, but she really is going to be a big star.

Paul McCreesh explained in the programme notes how he had re-translated the words from the rather clunky translation we know so well. One of the things was to be more true to the German and fit in better with the music, and also to correct some errors of very poor English. This was most apparent in The Heavens Are Telling where I am familiar with "The wonder of his work displays the firmament" which Paul altered to "The firmament displays the wonder of his works" which of course makes more sense, and, actually fits the music better, with 'wonder of his works' being the oft-repeated phrase, rather than 'displays the firmament'. But it really jarred for the first half of the chorus, until it hit me. And now I suspect I shall never be able to enjoy properly a performance or recording that uses the old original mistranslation...

Overall, a splendid evening, because, despite shortcomings from the some of the singers, it really was a Great Performance of a truly Great Piece of Music! And it's been a splendid October to end my near-hiatus. October ends on Tuesday with the minor matter of Rolando Villazón and Anna Netrebko. I've been told they will be doing a signing session; I shall be going armed with money. There's a reason...

Update: MusicOMH review

This was not the greatest Creation that London has seen, but when the choir opened their mouths and the orchestra surged in a great forte swell, it seemed to be not far off. The CD looks to be a necessity.

* it's not literally true, you know, but in this setting works as a beautiful allegory

** I say turquoise; It was more this sort of colour*** - which doesn't seem to show up well, but I've approximated it as an RGB of 4 54 60 (customise colours in Paint)

*** I suspect I might get linked from the Miah Persson fan bulletin board

Tamerlano in Madrid

I was reading Paul McCreesh's biographical blurb in the programme for tonight's Creation and it said

...in 2008 he will conduct two Handel operas for the Teatro Real, Madrid...a new production of Tamerlano with a cast that includes Plácido Domingo...

2008 I believe is when Plácido will be in Gluck's Iphigénie en Tauride in Salzburg.

Previous baroque roles include: Rameau's Hippolyte et Aricie (in Boston USA) in 1966*, and, er, that's it.

So, at the age of 67 Pláci will embark on a whole new repertoire. Which is bizarre and simulataneously cool.

* long before I was born

The weather

Where I am the weather is glorious. Indeed, I would say perfect. According to the Beeb, maximum tempertaure is 19° and for tomorrow and Saturday nights, the minimum will be 12° - although I have it on good authority that this is based on the office junior looking out of a Shepherds Bush window.

Whenever the weather is different from the norm or average, people pronounce it as freak. I disagree. I have memories of sitting outside pubs in November, of unseasonably mild weather at this time of year. And also of bitter wet cold windy weather. Average is only the sum of the readings divided by the number of readings. They rarely give us the range or variances of the dataset.

I put my fleece on this morning over my suit, because it's late October, and I'll be out late this evening. I took it off on the Tube for fear of expiring with heat exhaustion. I only redonned it because wearing is generally the easiest way to carry a garment. At lunchtime I wore my suit jacket, unnecessarily. Lots of people were in shirt sleeves because it's mild and bright. Lots more were in jumpers and coats because it's late October.

It's a nice temperature, absolutely comfortable in suit. A light breeze skimming the fluffy white clouds across the sky. The quality of light is stupendous, displaying the warm rich colours of autumn, not least the multi shades and tones of the Virginia Creeper which is rooted in the garden of Gert Cottage but has somehow spread its tentacles over the entire area, oops.

I like autumn in so many ways, yet I dislike the evenings drawing in, the arriving home in the dark, which soon becomes the leaving home in the dark. I dislike the build-up to Christmas, the hysteria and angsting, and most of all the expense of parting with my money to purveyors of choicest tat. And yet I like the Festival of Lights to mark the Solstice. Last night Regent Steet looked in need in some of Christmas lights. But I like it when the end of January approaches, and the nights draw out; by the time of my birthday weekend, it doesn't go dark until after five pm, and the green shoots are poking through the earth. As I age, the seasons come and go with more frequency, and according to the thickies in the media, are now all merged into one. But at least, if you don't like one, another one will be along soon.

Operalia in Valencia

Plácido Domingo augura la desaparición del "divo antipático"

Plácido Domingo espera inaugurar el auditorio del Palau de les Arts en Valencia y asegura que se abrirá 'a su tiempo'

The final is on Sunday.

Carolyn Sampson at Wigmore Hall

Or rather:

Carolyn Sampson (soprano)
Stephanie-Marie Degand (violin)
Alexandra Bellamy (oboe)
Jonathan Cohen (cello)
Lynda Sayce (theorbo)
Robert King (harpsichord, organ)

under the title of The King's Consort.

There we were sitting in the foyer of the hall when a couple arrived pushing a pram. Strange, I thought. I know that bloke from somewhere. "That bloke" was chatting to someone selling CDs and introduced Johannes, and said he had lain through all the rehearsal, and I suddenly realised that 'that bloke' was Robert King. Handy to be able to parade one's 'normality' when a court case is hanging over one. I do so like Robert as a conductor, or, as he was this evening, director from keyboard.

The programme is in the extended entry. All the 'titled' pieces are one or other of Handel's Nine German Arias, to texts by Barthold Heinrich Brockes. Rather nice texts, concerned with seeing the glory of God in nature. These were interspersed with three oboe sonatas, two of which had movements that seemed familiar...I suspect that I have or had recordings of them performed on recorder or flute.

Other than Messiah, Handel's music doesn't have a great emotional impact on me, but it is always delightful, and I keep going back for more. Carolyn's voice was as lovely as ever, fresh, sweet and engaging, and soaring, and with excellent phrasing and interpretation. I just adore her voice. There is due to be a CD of these works. It will certainly go on my wishlist but I'm not sure that the pieces grabbed me enough to make it a 'must buy on the day of release' piece.

I love the sound of a period oboe and enjoyed the playing of Alexandra Bellamy, especially in the coloratura bits...I expect I don't really mean 'coloratura' but it's a more impressive word than 'twiddly' and more succinct than saying passages of rapidly executed semi-quavers and demi-semi quavers.

Overall, a very pleasant evening. Not Handel's greatest works, but nevertheless, in accordance with that winning formula, and performed very well. We agreed that the highlight of the evening was a heartfelt and moving Lascia ch'io pianga, from Rinaldo (and from Harrods TV ads...).

Update Simon's review in MusicOMH

La bohème at ROH

Er, Bohème dreary; Marcelo Alvarez and Anna Leese* great.

More, anon...

* last minute replacement for Nuccia Focile, injured in rehearsal...In years to come we'll reminisce about the day Anna Leese almost stole the show as a late replacement for Musetta. Finally, I know what other people have been saying for ages. She is really very good.

Previous entry

Move along swiftly.

I'm getting bored of Mainstream media types thinking that I want fifteen minutes of fame and inviting me to participate in programmes or write for them without any financial recompense.

I'm afraid I'm too old and insufficiently vain to be susceptible to flattery. I've been on TV and I've been on the radio; I've been in newspapers and magazines. I don't have a very high opinion - to put it mildly - of the vast majority of what classes as journalism in this country. I expect if I spell it out explicitly that I have no desire to be exploited, the offers will quickly dry up.

On the other hand I don't want to appear churlish and refuse to help people, or work with people in a cause that I hold dear. Nor do I want hobbyists, bloggers or otherwise - like myself - to fear referring to my writings on subjects of mutual interest.

And in the unlikely event that someone wants to offer me paid work, I will consider the offer on its merits.

Anna Russell RIP

Sadly, I'm not making this up. It does not seem to have made it to the UK media yet.

Very talented. Still, she lived to 95...

This is what I wrote earlier

Meanderings

Pensioners' wish: to have had more sex

The survey of more than 1,500 pensioners reveals a desire for a more carefree and rebellious lifestyle if they were allowed to time-travel back to their 20s and start again. Typical comments include "I wish I'd stood up to bullying bosses" and "More sex - why did we let them tell us it was wrong?"

Ellie links to the rules for Fever swinging which inter alia state

(On the continent it is widely believed that maybe 80% of women are potentially bisexual whereas at least 80% of men are not).

Last week I left a comment on Clare's teenage diaries

About ten years ago there was a programme on the TV about a lesbian soldier in Northern Ireland. I didn't see it but the next day I was on the train back from an out-of-town client meeting. Halfway along the journey the carriage filled with girls, all about 14 years old it seemed, from a Convent School on that line, a school with a good reputation etc.

They were discussing the programme and exclaiming "It was filthy disgusting the disgusting bitch" etc which depressed me.

Then I remembered back to that age and realised that probably our reaction would have been similar because we assumed we didn't know any dykes, they were 'other'.

Looking back I regret that lesbianism/bi-sexuality was so frowned upon. I think if it had been encouraged, or accepted/tolerated as inevitable (as with heterosexual relations), we could have had a lot of fun.

Societal conditioning is strange. I think it's important that there is some adherence to societal norms, eg where it comes to behaviour in public places, and understanding that my freedom only extends as far as where it starts to impact on the freedom of others.

Now, that 80% of women being bi-sexual, I'd like to see the evidence. It was years ago that I read that sexual orientation is a continuum, where very few people are completely straight or completely gay...this was in Guardian Women, and it made sense to me at the time, and it continues to make sense to me. At least in regard to women; male sexuality is as much as mystery to me now as it was when I read that, age 15 or whatever.

If I wrote on this blog, now: "I am bisexual" I don't suppose many of my readers would have a heart attack. That doesn't mean that I have ever actually had sex with a woman, or even snogged a woman, and I am not sure how most of my female friends/colleagues/acquaintances would react if I said "I'm bisexual, are you?" I think a few might say "Yes, but you're only saying that to me so that you can use me." And anyway, what does my 'bisexuality' actually mean? I am in a heterosexual relationship in which I am happy, and have every intention of staying in that relationship for ever. I do not want to embark on a 'bit-on-the-side' relationship with anybody, male or female, except for the curiosity value (and there's also the 'celebrity get out clause'*), and I don't have a burning desire to have sex with any specific woman, but wouldn't necessarily say no to an exploration of bi-curiosity.

I enjoy looking at people whom I find aesthetically pleasing sexually attractive. I don't especially mean people that I know...off the top of my head I can't think of anybody (except my fiancé) whom I find sexy and I have conversations with. Then there are celebrities and chance encounters with random strangers. If I see someone on the Tube or sitting in a choir on a concert platform, I might enjoy looking at them, male or female, but I hardly think it's the basis for saying I fancy them. And there are acquaintances eg colleagues whom I objectively regard as being physically attractive with engaging personalities, but I don't fancy them (I know that because my definition of fancying is either feeling a frisson of sexual tension, or else looking at them/being with them and feeling an exquisite lurch of desire in the pit of my stomach). I often have fantasies about sex with women, but then, I also have fantasies about orgies, and I have no cerebral wish to attend an orgy. I have a theory that if, in the course of conversation with a bloke, I said "Shall we shag?" the bloke being a bloke would say yes (in practice, this doesn't happen, for some reason blokes I have known over the years don't want it handed to them on a plate). They certainly wouldn't be offended, at worst they'd think i was a scary predatory type, and wouldn't be man enough to deal with that. At best they'd be flattered and apologetic. But if I said the same to a woman, I am absolutely certain that her reactions would range from "I didn't know she was a dyke" to "Oh god does she think I'm a dyke" to "I better avoid her in the future" to sheer utter embarrassment.

I ought to write a conclusion, summing up to this post (beginning, middle and end), but I can't think of one. But we are only 27 comments away from the magic 10,000, so the conclusion may be supplied by you...

* shagging a celebrity does not count as infidelity, because they are celebrities (unless you meet them on a friend-as-a-friend basis, and they just happen to be celebrities)

Book, DVD, CD...

Hot title at Frankfurt Book fair

Plácido Domingo has a song everyone wants to hear. Before Frankfurt, we reported that Norton bought his memoir, The Joy of Opera, for a mid-six figure sum (PW Daily, Oct 2). The book, which is set for a 2009 release, wound up being the house's hot title at the fair and now, according to foreign rights manager and v-p Elizabeth Kerr, Norton has closed deals in six countries, with more to come.

While Norton expected the title to generate significant interest at the fair, Kerr said she was nonetheless "incredibly amazed" at the response it drew. She added that she thinks the book, which focuses on Domingo's passion for opera, is of special interest since it will have a wide appeal for the singer/composer's fans as well as opera lovers. "We see it as something that will be in print for decades," Kerr said.

DVD of Waldbuhne "Three Stars" concert set for November release (thanks to Meg for flagging this up - I'd spotted this just before I left for work yesterday; in the evening I did not feel very internet-enthusiastic...) I wonder whether it will contain any material over-and-above what was transmitted on TV...

Looks like a really nice compilation CD, although, not being a completist, I shan't get it, because I have all but about two of the tracks already.

Our telly's broke

I think it's just the switch. It went a year or so ago, and we got a good ticking off for leaving the TV on standby. We do that seldom now, and never overnight or when we're out, partly because we're trying to save the planet* but mainly because we want to save the telly.

In all the years of being in possession of TV I've never had a switch go. There was the hilarious incident of the Remote Control. Basically, I had a TV remote control that wouldn't control the TV. I did all the sensible things like changing the batteries, checking the battery contacts, wiping the transmitting bit, wiping the receiving bit, borrowing a friend's remote control, and it still wouldn't work. So I called the repair man. I was given a slot of two-six, which was less than ideal, because being that this was the last Monday in April 1997, there were a great number of envelopes to stuff at the nerve centre. And a Governors' meeting at 6.30.

Five to six, no repair man, so I ring up, stressing that I was a very important Chair of Governors of a doomed school with a key meeting "with the Education authority at 6.30". At five past six, repair man turns up, takes one look at my gender and says "Have you changed the batteries?" I explained all the steps I had taken so he went to the corner shop to get some new batteries. Surprise surprise, the remote didn't work. So he declared that I needed a new remote but he didn't carry one on the van. I explained that my friend's didn't work either, so he said he would drop off a new remote control tomorrow morning. I don't think so, I said, I'm having my photo taken with Glenda Jackson tomorrow morning** He didn't know who Glenda Jackson was.

The next day, following my date with Glenda, I phoned up and they promised a repair man on Wednesday. I don't think so, I said, I've got thousands of leaflets to deliver, so we agreed Thursday. I promised there would be *someone* in all day.

Mid-afternoon, a different repair man arrived and was rather overwhelmed by the pictures of Keith Hill and Tony Blair on my front door, the evidence of organised chaos that typified a Committee Room*** and the splendid finger buffet that awaited all visitors. I explained the saga and he said "I think there's probably a broken connection," took the TV apart, fiddled around in that mysterious way that repair men do and, hey presto, a functioning remotely controlled TV. The afternoon news was on, a bit strange on Official No News Day, with reports from the polls, early exits predicting a Labour victory, possibly even with a working majority. "Lady Olga Maitland's my MP," he said. "I expect she'll get back in again." He didn't seem too upset at that. Having consumed the Guardian book of the election I knew we weren't targeting Sutton and Cheam, I afforded him a magnanimous smile. When he had gone, the assorted comrades agreed that the Tories losing Sutton and Cheam would be like an unprecedented political revolution. Lady Olga Maitland, where is she now...?

Meanwhile half an hour ago I settled down to watch last night's The Amazing Mrs Pritchard. Look, I know, my BA(Hons) is in Politics. It's ludicrous patronising tosh with very little political understanding or appreciation. But what else to expect from the media. But it is pretty entertaining if you set aside absolutely everything you have learnt about the British Political System.

As a by the way, my Esteemed Employer, in a corporate sense, entertained various editors of Women's magazines recently and said editors were interviewed about, amongst other things, their impressions of Esteemed Employer. There seemed to be a consensus on the gorgeousness of the building, but would you believe that quite a few of them were surprised it wasn't full of men in grey suits. I'm not sure what century, or parallel universe, they live in, but are there any workplaces of any significant size that is stuffed with men in grey suits? We even have some minority ethnic people. And people with disabilities. And gay people, too.

I still don't understand why I suddenly can't record Five on the Sky+. Well, I can, but it sticks and jumps. Sky very nicely talked me through how to defrag the Sky+ box. This, apparently, should be done every few months, but it doesn't come in the standard instructions. Presumably because Sky have decided its customers are too thick to follow simple instructions without being talked through them on the phone. Seems pretty much Sky corporate policy - for heaven's sake don't ever give the public thefull facts.

With no telly I should probably go to bed early.

* or to be strictly accurate, murder it less quickly
** was anybody else there? Does anybody have a copy of that photo?
*** I know, I know Campaign Centre. I'm Old Labour. Get over it.

Theodora

By Handel, at the Barbican.

Le Concert d’Astrée Orchestra & Chorus
Emmanuelle Haïm: conductor
Geraldine McGreevy (soprano): Theodora
Anne Sofie von Otter (mezzo): Irene
Matthew Rose(bass): Valens
Stephen Wallace(counter-tenor): Didymus
Paul Agnew(tenor): Septimus

I thought it was going to be a concert version of an opera, but it was actually an oratorio that has been staged...excerpts of the Glyndebourne DVD are posted on YouTube.

I don't know the oratorio, but I don't think this is necessarily a serious handicap to enjoying Handel, the great impresario who churned out works to a formula...a great formula. Some really sublime music, and a compelling story. The only thing about Handel is that I feel each of the operas/oratorios (except Messiah) are pretty interchangeable. That's not a bad thing, but nor is it particularly good thing. It's a thing.

As is usual, the main protagonists took to the stage. On my side, the three gentlemen and a woman; funny, I thought I know what both Geraldine McGreevy and Anne Sofie von Otter look like, who's she...Oh, she's the conductor...Blatant sexism on my part - it was the first time I have ever seen a woman conductor live, so perhaps I am just reacting to the sexist conditioning of society. I wonder why there are so very few women conductors at any level, considering that orchestras probably reflect the gender balance of any professional workplace with unsocial hours and trips away, and singers and solo instrumentalists seem to be pretty evenly split on gender lines. And to my shame, I did spend a portion of the first act thinking, I don't have the ability to judge this conductor against various others I have heard/seen, because I keep noticing her, which is not a good thing, but that's because she's a freak, a woman conductor. But then I stopped noticing her, which is a good thing, and the orchestra sounded lovely. Just the right setting and the right work for a Period Ensemble, and whilst they didn't seize me with burning passion I found them consistently pleasant throughout.

I was a bit hesitant about what I'd say about the eponymous heroine, being that she's a blogger, we've mutually commented, and I can be quite harsh on sopranos that don't pass muster. To my relief, I do not have to pick my words carefully, she was splendid. A really gorgeous voice, with a rich creamy lower register and no flaws all the way up, clear enunciation and intelligent interpretation. I particularly enjoyed Angels ever bright and fair, which was sung with tender feeling. And gorgeous shoes. Really gorgeous shoes.

I am not a counter-tenorist, being much more of a tenorist, so, realising that one was in a very major part, I just sighed and thought "Well, this is the downside of Handel, just grin and bear it." And I have to confess at first I had my usual counter-tenor reaction: beautiful sweet voice, but I've heard enough of you, the lack of variation in tone is getting boring. But as the evening progressed I warmed more and more to Stephen Wallace's voice. I understand he was not very audible in the gods, but from where I was on the floor he was perfectly audible. He started out with quite awkward body-language, like a gawky youth, but as the story rolled on, and the character gained a maturity, his body language took on a suaver confidence, which is quite sophisticated acting for oratorio! The closing duet with Theodora was quite possibly the absolute highlight of the evening

I found Anne Sofie van Otter really quite disappointing, considering especially she was ostensibly the star name. Once or twice I found her below pitch, more often she was straining for the high notes, and on a few occasions she just didn't even attempt them, just letting the voice die away. One of the people I was chatting to said she was far too operatic for this work; another said she lacked the serene piety required for the role. I can't say either thought had previously occurred to me, but on reflection, I had to agree.

Paul Agnew sounded fine in a role where I suspect it would be difficult to sound better than fine. A typically English tenor, and, perhaps unfortunately, he does look a bit like a Chartered Accountant. I don't mind the occasional Chartered Accountant looking like a tenor, but I prefer for the converse not to apply.

The biggest treat of the night was Matthew Rose. I have heard him in one or two comprimario roles live, and have a Mozart Requiem where he is a splendid bass soloist (trouble is I have another Mozart Requiem where Gerald Finley is a splendid bass soloist, and I regard Requiem as less-than-top-drawer Mozart...). I have to say that Matthew is definitely one to watch for the future; he has a number of secondary roles this season at ROH and ENO, but I suspect that he will soon be moving onto the major bass and bass-baritone parts, and I will welcome him in them.

All in all a thoroughly pleasant evening. Not necessarily one that will linger in my memory for ever, but a thoroughly nice way to get back into the swing of opera for the season.

And a big hello to Alison and friend, to David and Frances, and to the ubiquitous Stephen with whom I pleasantly spent the intervals.

Vanity googling

Letter: Women don't vote by gender Sex appeal won't buy votes Independent, The (London) - Find Articles

This vaguely rings a bell. What I don't understand is that I just gave my name, and omitted my rank. I think at the time I was chair of Association of London Government (ALG)'s Women's sub-committee.

Bizarre

Your article "Tony and the women" (10 November) was a fascinating analysis of women's voting intentions broken down by age. It was also pointless. The whole premise and the tone of the argument was governed by an unstated assumption of maleness being the norm and femaleness being abnormal, unusual and therefore worthy of analysis in its own right. A similar article analysing the political attitudes of men in such a superficial and generalised way would rightly have been called irrelevant. I would be surprised if any woman bases her voting on her gender. Objective factors such as education, employment experience, geographical location, wealth and public services are more important. Equally insulting is the idea that some women will vote Labour because of Mr Blair's apparent sex appeal. This is worse than the arguments that say women only watch football because of the supposed sex-appeal of players.

I have never found an article suggesting that men voted for the Tories because of Margaret Thatcher's sex appeal.

And I never realised that Lesley Abdela cited me in her response.

Modern pop music is just noise...

Everything Louder Than Everything Else

You know when you're young, and parents etc say "Turn it down it's just noise..." and you wince because they are just...old...and don't understand.

In my mid teens I read some article that said as part of the aging process we become less able to tolerate extremes of volume, in music and elsewhere. Being that I've always liked loud music I vowed it would never happen to me. But in the past ten years or so I have become increasingly indifferent to modern pop music, feeling that there is an absence of subtlety.

Actually, one thing has bugged me since I was a small child - the significant difference in volume between pop and classical. This has really come to a head since I acquired and loaded an mp3 player which I keep more or less constantly on shuffle, and find that I am constantly having to make volume adjustments, especially on public transport.

Turns out that it might not be simply a product of my aging process but it is a fact that over the past ten years, the pop/rock music industry has deliberately eliminated variations in dynamic range in order to achieve maximum loudness.

For those already confused, Montrone was essentially saying that there are millions of copies of CDs being released that are physically exhausting listeners, most of whom probably don't know why their ears and brains are feeling worn out... ...But something weird happens as you listen to it. You like the songs, but you don't really want to listen to it for very long and you're not entirely sure why. You take it off. A few minutes, later you put it back on. Same thing happens: You like the music, but you still want to take the CD off. It's more than a little weird. Condolences. You are officially a casualty of the loudness wars, the ongoing competition among bands, labels and A&R folks to make ever-louder albums.

Being a 'loud' fan, I especially appreciate dynamic contrast...one of my most favourite contrasts is in Haydn's Creation, when the chorus sings "And God said...Let.there.be.li-i-i-i-i-ght" and suddenly this amazing cacophony breaks out from the orchestra - if I was in charge of a performance I'd have the stage in near-total darkness until that point, then flood it with light.

Purple house

Last and previous summers (2004 and 2005) we were plagued by the curse of tenants from hell. Colombian Drug Dealers, Jimmy decided. They held barbecues, initially fired by paraffin. This amused Danny, who used to live next door, a professional barbecuer to Royalty and Filmstars, and Jimmy, an ex-professional purveyor of paraffin and related products.

It was the burnt meat that got to me, especially the smell that lingered in my house. It seemed they only had barbecues when the wind blew from theirs to mine. One day at 3 am I called over the wall "Please could you keep the noise down" and Senora Foghorn called back "Don't call the police, you won't call the police, they won't like your cannabis plant"*

We had a series of petty acts of revenge planned for this summer, to coincide with the barbecue season. We thought about creosoting the fence...woops, still needs doing. We thought about leaving the lid off the compost bin. We thought about burning our garden cuttings, when the wind blew from us to them. And then there's the Noise Squad, the Drugs Squad, Immigration, complaints about the Environmental Health Consequences of Overcrowding, the complaints about a business seemingly being run from domestic premises.

Bastards moved out in March.

The house (at least, I think it's this one - have to keep an eye on the value of one's equity...) has been obviously unoccupied since. Lack of curtains, light coming on for an exactly an hour same time every late evening. Lack of furniture. Yellow Pages abandoned outside. We haven't drawn our downstairs back curtains all summer. We've walked around in various states of nakedness, inside and out.

Summer's over, there are new occupants. It seemed they moved in yesterday. I heard a loud voice and my heart sunk. Although, on further investigation the loud voice appeared to be a sister or friend helping with the move. sounded very Clapham, all a bit if-I-talk-posh-I-sound-intelligent, probably working in the vacuous end of paramedia. The sister that is. the person in charge of box-unpacking was somewhat less stentorian.

* I have been told, rightly or wrongly that having a cannabis plant** in one's garden is not illegal
** it's no longer there - it's an annual

McLaren must go...

Two months ago I mocked the fanfare for the new Messiah

I predicted that by June, the honeymoon would be over.

How wrong I was, it's only October.

But this post isn't about football. It's about the 'news' media, mainly the newspapers, but also TV news (why is it that sport is considered to be news, yet so many areas of human endeavour and interest are roundly ignored or, at best, given irregular occasional coverage).

It's immature and sensationalist. I haven't enjoyed England's last two matches especially, and I do believe that the team and management are accountable tot he fans that pay their vastly inflated wages.

But in the eyes of the media, it's hero or zero, good/bad, black/white, on/off. I do not think there is a single newspaper or TV channel that is consistently excellent. I don't think there is one that consistently equals its best performance.  But they demand from our footballers what they are not capable of delivering themselves.

It's hysterical and in its immaturity it infantalises the rest of us.

In that linked post, I attempted to draw parallels with the political coverage by those same outlets. We need a free, sane, fearless, intelligent media as a safeguard for democracy. Instead we get screaming over-reaction, and hyperbole in place of reflective analysis. We have a general population unable to analyse an issue and unable to see that, sometimes, there are grey areas.

Do we get the media we deserve?

'nother thing

Blogreading.

When I got back from my holidays my bloglines total stood at about 1500. It is now down to 200. Which I think is pretty neat, and suggests I've encountered about 1800 blogposts in about a week.

A lot of you probably don't even know I'm been near you, unless I left a comment, because for quite a lot of you, the entire post is displayed in bloglines, so there is no need to actually open your blog, unless I want to comment.

This feels like I'm betraying you. I'm not affecting your hit counter, you can't purr with appreciation as yet another returning reader acknowledges a lingering affection.

My commenting rate is low, which suggests that I am not fully participating in your carefully crafted and lovingly presented post.

I'm sort of sorry but not very.

You see, this way, I'm getting through all my blogs and not missing anything. I will be honest, I am deliberately skipping some topics and merely skimming others. Because blogging is rarely about any specific individual post. It's like friendship. It's rarely about a specific thing but about the sum of the parts plus, the ongoing and ever-changing but paradoxically constant.

My bloglines total will mount up again between now and the weekend, but now I know how to manage it, and don't reach in panic for "Mark all as read" daunted by a wall of creativity and reportage and rantage and imagery.  I have a spectacularly autistic* way of balancing the reading of the bloghorheac with the timid, of creakingly-old-and-gathering dust  with the smell-of-fresh-paint new, with the...enough of these strained metaphors.

Suffice to say that I'm blog reading.

click for more

* I suspect I shouldn't say that, but it really is a word-merger of auditor-tis-she-ick, so you know, I'm using it

Whereabouts

Life has been quiet on the going-out front of late.

For the rest of the week I shall be on a jolly Staff Event in the unidentified capital city of an unnamed Principality not too far from England. Internet access probbaly way too expensive to consider.

Next week sees the start of my music attending season: Theodora at the Barbican, featuring former blogger Geraldine McGreevy

The following week is choc-full of exciting events: La boheme at ROH; Kings Consort at Wigmore; and Creation at the Barbican.

The week after that I shall be seeing "The Golden Couple", Rolando Villazón and Anna Netrebko, at the Barbican.

So lots of good stuff in prospect.

Interestingly, two of those events events are conducted by Emmanuelle Haim. I have never in my life been to a professional concert conducted by a woman, and now, suddenly, two come along at once.

If you're going and fancy meeting up, a comment, an email or an approach will be welcome - I know quite a lot of people who are going to the Eyebrows and Trebs Event, so it should be quite a night

The Da Vinci Code

Opus Dei was always a swearword in my house growing up. My devout Catholic house, let me explain. For years, no one else had heard of them, until someone I worked with mentioned that when at Brunel University he had inadvertently ended up in an Opus Dei Hall of Residence because his mother had been insistent he went to a Catholic Hall of Residence. He didn't say much about the experience except it was weird and unnerving.

When my father was at University (what is now City University but was a college of London at the time), being a devout member of CathSoc and a former priest-student was preyed on by Opus Dei, but rejected them. Years later, in the work place he was called on by colleagues to extricate someone from the grips of what I gathered was a dangerous cult. My cousin, also a devout RC, infiltrated them at Cambridge University, and holds a scathing opinion of what is effectively, a cult.

I did a little bit of cult-infiltration myself at one stage, and concluded that what is most disturbing about cults or quasi-cults is the way they prey on certain types of people. Universities are recruitment hotbeds; my personal experience was in bedsit land, being early-twenties and seemingly impressionable. But sufficiently sceptical not to be brainwashed. I have seen this behaviour in religious groups and also in political groupings, particularly in the small fringe Trotskyist parties and groupings. Someone at Uni who had a bunch of insecurities use to swing bwtween Socialist Workers, Born Again Christian Union and overt homosexuality (the first two did not allow the last).

Opus Dei have recently become more prominent, largely because of that book, which I have no desire to read, having read sufficient reviews that highlight its writing style as dreadful, content aside. And through Ruth Kelly. I have never met Ruth, but for a time I was quite friendly with Derek, aka Mr Ruth, and it is difficult to imagine a more unlikely couple - he was Cupid in an ultimately short-lived affair I had with someone who went on to be a Hackney councillor.

Someone I know has a son who is going off to Rome to study to be a priest. That is not uncommon in the sort of circles I mix in. Seriously. But rather than, say, the English College, he's off to Opus Dei College, with no permission to return home for seven years, except in compassionate circumstances. I believe that compassionate circumstances may occur in that time.

Now despite my frequent rants against organised religion I have a tremendous respect for many clergypeople. Over the years I have collected many friends and acquaintances who are the offspring of clergy and more than a few who themselves are clergy or studying to be so. In general, I would say that these clergy people are remarkable and set a tremendous example, not only in their pastoral work but in the way they live their lives and relate to society. I remarked to this acquaintance that someone, a friend of the family, shall we say, holds a very senior position in the Church of England; I also mentioned some of my other clergy friends/acquaintances and my admiration for them. Rather snottily this acquaintance put them down because a Protestant clergyman (sic) is more a job whereas a Catholic one is a vocation.

I admire the serious Anglican/Methodist people I know from clergy families because whatever their chosen profession or job they work it as an extension of their personal belief system. This may mean choosing to work in the public sector or voluntary sector rather than earn higher money in an equivalent position elsewhere (to some extent this is my motivation although not entirely and not for Christian reasons). It may mean that when commenting on a housing development they reflect the inequity between the private and social aspect of the scheme. This son has been working as a lawyer in a hotshot city firm, earning serious money and with invitation to become partner. He has 'found it difficult' working with women - he has spent most of his post-University life as a numary, a celibate Opus Dei, living in barracks or somesuch.

I find it difficult to square the sanctimony of a celibate cult that calls on people to make their Christianity part of their everyday life and yet chooses life as a high-earner for capitalism above the various less well paid legal careers that work to better society. I suspect a counter-argument would be that what one contributes to society is irrelevant, it's how you live your personal life that matters. But I am unduly influenced by an IBVM quasi-Jesuistical version of secular democratic socialism. In parenthesis I see little Christian-like about a young man effectively deserting his family during the years when he may be of great assistance to them - although in further parentheses his presence has not been remarkable thus far.

I have a considerable problem with celibacy. It is required of priests and religious in the Catholic church but not in general in other Christian sects. Anyone can decide to be celibate or have the matter decided for them by default; one can also choose abstinence or chastity however one defines it. But I find the elevation of celibacy and its near-total requirement for priests to be problematic. In general, I would say that priests who live a full life, of marriage, probably with children, are more capable of attending to pastoral needs than those who have no experience of the difficulties in relationships and families that their congregations experience. I suppose for contemplative religious, celibacy is a natural accompaniment to lack of possessions and a frugal diet, but I find it difficult to see the value of a contemplative, perhaps secluded, life, when surely, a Christian should turn their life to improving society.

I also have problems in the way that the worship of celibacy has corrupted views on sexuality. Judeo-Christianity and Islam have for thousands of years promoted a partial ideal of sexuality as being for procreation and, on the whole, for nothing else. I have never found a satisfactory answer from a theologian or preacher as to why the natural rhythms of our (God-given) bodies should be wrong. And I do not understand why a young man, who finds the presence of women in the workplace to be difficult chooses nevertheless to reject women. If that is merely how he chooses to live his life, that is his choice, in my view a misinformed choice, because surely sexual attraction and arousal is a gift from god. I would not accuse this young man, because I do not know him, but I do believe that that leads onto a logical conclusion that women must be excluded from the workplace, or wear veils to cover themselves, to make it easier for a man who chooses celibacy or chastity. That is fundamentally wrong, because it elevates one man's perverse choice above nature and subjugates someone else to the fulfillment of that choice, makes women's choices the victims of the man's weakness.

In practice, in my experience, the workplace is not a hotbed of frustrated sexual desire. In practice the committed worker is focused on the work, perhaps looking forward to intimacy outside the workplace. The less committed is more likely to be clockwatching, surfing the news, football and blog pages on the 'net, or discussing low-rent telly at the water-cooler. Where there is sexual desire it is generally communicated subtly; it is welcomed or rejected, the consequence of the latter may lead to awkwardness or upset, but mature balanced adults 'get over it' work resumes and they move on. Few of us face a constant battle with sexual desire in the workplace because we have other outlets if our feelings are not reciprocated. But the glorification of celibacy and its consequent distortion of sexuality infantilises us all and creates artificial problems.

Opus Dei 'Forbidden' Books

Kirov Ring

Some gratuitious publishing of pictures and linking to reviews...

Kirov Opera: Ringing true

Among all the singing solidity, Plácido Domingo, standing in as Siegmund in “Die Walküre,” was the standout. His tone rang with a ping, his phrases always went somewhere and he never tired (despite an apparent cough). And with what must have been little or no rehearsal, he managed his maneuvers smoothly enough.

Die Walkure

Placido Domingo has dropped most of the roles from the Italian and French repertory that made him famous. But here, in the baritonial tenor role of Siegmund, he sounds very much like he did more than two decades ago when he first took on Wagner.

O.C. grabs the 'Ring'

The presence of Domingo seemed to captivate the company in "Valkyrie," which was stronger in every way than "Rhinegold." ... Domingo was in outstanding form, his voice genuinely heroic, a rapt actor looking impossibly youthful.

My life is complete...

Pláci with Miss Piggy...