Gertsamtkunstwerk

Knock knock

I am still here. For some reason, I haen't felt like blogging or doing very much at all on the internet. No particular reason. No illness, psychological distress. I have not been especialy busy although I have not exactly been scratching round for things to do. Not even a phase i'm going through. Barely even a mood. A bit of writer's block, but not of calamatious catastrophic proportions. It will either herald a dawn of uber-prolific blogging, or else merely mark an interlude between periods of intermittent posting. Plenty of missed opportunities to cast onto the internet pithy witty observations and profound analysis of stuff, stuff both in my life and in the public domain. Other opportunities will crop up, no doubt, whichmay or may not be blogged.

Met blogs Iphigenie en Tauride

MetBlog » Blog Archive » The First Rehearsal Photos

Die Walküre in Barcelona

Damn, I've just gone and bought a ticket for a concert performance of Die Walküre at the end of May. It's not a bad cast, though...

Estate agents

Bloody nerve!

Next door is up for sale - again. I say again, because he seems to put it up every time the lease runs out with the current tenants. I heard some shouting outside my house today and saw that some sharp-suited halfwit bloke with a Mini Cooper was yelling into his phone right outside my place. I went outside and asked him to stop shouting outside my house. He babbled on about having a 'client'; I said I couldn't care less, he has no business shouting outside my house, he's behaving suspiciously and if he doesn't clear off I'll call the police. Which sent him into a panic...amazing how frequently mention of the word 'police' scares non-EU citizens. He did explain that he was a 'Real Estate Agent'. I suggested that either he ought to make phone calls inside his car or else get a new phone if he has to shout into it. If I had been a bit more quick-thinking I would have pointed out the breach of confidentiality involved in holding client conversations where they can be heard by all-and-sundry.

I mentioned this to Jimmy, who said 'how much?'. So I did a quick google and found out (£330k -as if...'this little period gem which is set in an increasingly popular area of London' pfthhhwa!). I was aghast to find that next door is being advertised with a full-frontal picture of my house, presumably because our garden is pretty and cottage-like and next door's is a barren mess. Jimmy told me to get onto them and complain - otherwise we'll have random strangers knocking on the door or nosying around when we're not in.

It really is a bloody nerve. I've asked them to take it down from the www. Perhaps later in the week I shall call in and inspect their paper publicity, too.

Still, if you have that sort of money to spare (I don't), there's a nice little cottage for sale in Clapham Park (sic), semi-detached to a lovely couple who don't row very often and rarely play Wagner loud past midnight (only when very drunk).

Manchester United

You know, I don't think I have ever had a blogpost before with that title. Which is bizarre. So is the fact that I actually don't mention them very much on this 'ere blog. That is partly to do with the fact that, being a total Jonah, it is very difficult for me to watch them. I haven't seen them live in years - the last time I saw them live Eric Cantona was suspended after his heroic karate chop at the same ground, a match I had missed because it clashed with a Central Services Committee followed by Full Council in an attempt to set a budget when we were a hung council. 1995, I think.

I don't watch them on TV as often as I might, because of things getting in the way. And me being a Jonah, even through the cathode rays. I had a massive sulk at the start of the season. The season started too early. And in some ways, not early enough. We had a disastrous start to the season. I was contemplating a blog post after our two draws and two losses, when we finally won, saying "look like the football season's just begun..." Then we lost to Coventry in the Mickey Mouse Cup, and I knew it was going to be one of those seasons. Yeah, it was like we remembered how to win, but it was always boring 1-0.

Then suddently, 4-0, 4-, 4-2, 4-1 (2-2 at Arsenal was a bloody good result even though I was gutted when they equalised so late) and 4-0. What's this lads? A bit of FOUR play...cringe

Blimey, we've qualified for the knock-out stage of the Champions League already. Not only that, we've got maximum twelve points, which is more even than Barcelona and Arsenal. Oh bugger, Arsenal. Our eminence gris. We'd be looking bloody rampant if it wasn't for them. Oh my god, Manchester City are only two points behind us in the Premiership. That's scary ('thirty one years and they've won f*** all, City is our name').

I enjoyed the match this evening!. My expectations and hopes are rising...by my age I should know better. Too often they've been dashed...Oh wait, we've been here before. Am I in fact the most miserable pessimistic football fan ever? Or am I, in fact, Kipling-esque, meeting with Triumph and Disaster and treating those two imposters just the same.

There's another six months to go yet. Oh the anguish...

The Ring

Tomlinson Rescues Royal Opera's 'Ring'

A good summary review based upon the cycle I also attended.

The apparently ageless Placido Domingo reprised his familiar Siegmund, running out of steam a bit at the end of Act 1 but otherwise singing with ardent enthusiasm and the breath control of a tenor half his 66 years.

I filled in my happy sheet today - the Royal Opera House, like training courses and hotels, requests feedback on performances. I decided to have a moan about the bad way that soft drinks are served. I suddenly realised at the start of Act III that I really wanted/needed water. £2 they charge for it. And they had no chilled bottles....If I had realised in timeI would of course have got a £1 bottle from the newsagent, chilled.

Siegfried

It's a week since I saw this, and it's about time that I wrote a review. But I have been either tired or busy ever since, except at work, but writing long reviews of long operas isn't the smartest thing to do at work.

I have somewhat ambiguous feelings towards Siegfried as an opera. I don't feel the same emotional involvement as I do with Die Walküre, I don't have the same feeling of light and hope that I do for Rheingold, and I don't think the orchestral music is as glorious as is Gotterdammerung.

And, having sat through this a couple of years ago and not really enjoyed it, plus it was coming so soon after a glorious and special Walküre, so my expectations were very low.

I enjoyed the vorspiel (incidentally, I have had an amusing 'search request' for 'vorspiel foreplay' - I suppose it is a literal translation, but I don't think they carry the same actual meaning...!). It opens with a curtain down, covered with various equations, like differential calculus or maybe thermal dynamics. Mime (Gerhard Siegel) wrote E=mp3, which made me laugh, but no one else seemed to - perhaps the seemingly complex equations confused people, which is ironic, because I bet 90% of the audience can read musical notation better than I can.

I promptly fell asleep, to wake with a jolt at John Tomlinson's entrance as Wanderer; the scene between him and Gerhard Siegel as  Mime passed quickly enough. Siegfried is basically a whole sequence of duets. I enjoyed the Forging Scene.

Taken overall, Act II was a real highlight. A lot of people thought that the staging was naff, with a stag and a doe being wheeled on to reprsent Siegfried's parents. I didn't mind that. I loved the slaying of the dragon scene. Both Peter Sidhom (Alberich) and Philip Ens (Fafner) acquitted themselves well in brief appearances. And I more or less enjoyed the Woodbird scene, although being near the top of the Amphitheatre, I think I saw more than the director intended of the puppetry. I liked it when Ailish Tynan was lowered on a wire to actually be the woodbird. I thought she sounded gorgeous.

The first scene of the final act will stay in memory for a long time. It is an amazing piece of theatre. The stage is dominated by a slab which spins at some speed (and always on a tilt). Onto this were projected abstract images of clouds and so on. John Tomlinson's vocal performance was good, his dramatic portrayal was amazing, and Catherine Wyn-Rogers as Erda was memorable.

The second scene wasn't bad, either. And then the final scene started. I was pleasantly surprised at how pleasant John Treleaven as Siegfried sounded in his monologue at the beginning. I even had hopes for the Love Duet. Sadly, my hopes were dashed. It was really really awful. Treleaven absolutely murdered it; Lisa Gasteen finished it off. She was so  bad in this, a significant contrast with her performance on Die Walküre, and, as I was subsequently to find, in Gotterdammerung, as I had also noted in the original exposition of the production, that I can't help but wonder whether she is being dragged down by her singing partner. It is such a shame because it ought to be one of the musical highlights of the Ring.

And it completely ruined the mood for me. For the second half of Act 1, all of Act 2 and for the first scene of Act III I had been indulging in serious crying. It really is an indulgence and a great catharsis. It's not like my tears of self-pity or of exhaustion, and it's not like crying at a funeral. Crying at an opera (or a film etc) is a form of entertainment, because the sub-conscious knows that the emotions are manufactured and finite, with no consequences. And yet, the Love duet, I couldn't cry.

Overall, I enjoyed the performance much more than I thought I would. This is largely due to the way it was written (thank you Wagner!) and also to the orchestra. I'm not really sure what to say about the orchestra and its conducting. There was no place where I sat up and thought - gosh, I have never heard it played that way before. I feel that I have heard the opera, the cycle, sufficient numbers of times to know when something is going spectacularly badly or well, but other than the occasional duff note or chord, somewhat inevitable in live performances of this length, there was nothing that really hit me. I suppose that that mean that the interpretation was bland; I can't really say. I am not sure that I want an interpretation that is so idiosyncratic that it challenges my comfortable familiarity. And I can't say I have any great expertise in assessing orchestra or conductor, except that I know when something gives me a warm feeling or leaves me cold. I was tending to warm feeling.

On the buses

On Monday I caught two buses up to Camberwell, changing at Brixton. On both buses there were people in wheelchairs. I only really noticed because the bus takes a bit longer at bus stops when it has to let the ramp down and take it up again. I saw a few people in wheelchairs in and around Kings College Hospital, but that's to be expected. Back in Brixton, there was someone in a wheelchair in Marks, and I saw a further two on the way home. This morning I noticed a bus in the bus station with its ramp down, I then noticed someone wheeling away. And this evening there was someone on my bus in a wheelchair. I have seen a further three people in wheelchairs, not including a woman at work I often chat with. I don't think that in my entire life before this week I have experienced four people on buses in wheelchairs, let alone four in one week. I wonder if there's a week of Direct Action going on or whether it's just that having noticed one I am more aware of others.

I was stood at a bus stop not far from work. I noticed a man and a girl standing there. She was about seven or eight, him very early twenties. I thought he's too young to be her father, then I thought, maybe not. I didn't especially notice or judge him, although, in retrospect, I reviewed whether I had done so subconsciously. He was black, wearing a baseball cap sideways, puffa jacket, looked a bit, not rough, but not exactly posh. As I made to get on the bus, he made the girl stand back and let me on first. Naturally, I expressed my thanks.

Upstairs on the bus two fairly posh nicely spoken white boys, about 12 or 13, were listening to some hip hop on the phone of one of the boys. Oh god, I thought, I'm glad I'm only going a few stops. The black man, with an unmistakable Sarf London accent said, "Turn that crap off..." "Why?" asked one of the boys. "Because it's crap..." said the man. They complied.

Speaking as a feminist...

Williams makes criminal age call

for all sorts of reasons I'm not getting into the detail of this, although I always find it a relief on the rare occasions that the bigwigs of Organised Religion comment on matters of morality that are nothing to do with Religion's Sexual Obsessions.

I have been meaning to post for a while on the issue of jailing women.

Rowan told the Sunday Telegraph women with young children should only be jailed as a "very last resort".

and I think this is almost certainly the correct wording. A few weeks ago I had reason to read the Corston Report, and most of it made total sense and is clearly an excellent report.

But one aspect jarred - the assumption that was written into it that 'woman' and 'mother' are interchangeable synonymous terms, when it is obvious from 2001 Census, from less official statistically valid data collection and from anecdotal observation that only a small proportion of women are mothers of children (I'm excluding mothers of adults).

I discovered a few weeks ago an appalling tale about a chap I know call Steve. I say 'know' but he is barely an acquaintance, albeit one I have been slightly acquainted with several years. He has a daughter who is 8; the girl's mother died about 7 years ago. Steve is a single parent. I encountered his daughter at a great-nephew's christening a few months back. That weekend, the daughter was staying with 'Aunt S and Uncle P', a couple who are close friends of Steve's and slight friends/good acquaintances of me. I didn't ask the reason why. Turns out Steve was in the nick on remand. I know Steve to be a decent and gentle bloke, although I don't know anything of his past. His case came to trial and he was found guilty of ABH and bound over. He had got involved in an altercation and had shoved the other bloke, who had fallen over and banged his head. Not big not clever but on a scale of heinousness, this barely registers. I don't feel afraid that Steve is at loose in my community. I am just shocked that he was banged up. So was the magistrate or judge or whatever, who declared it an outrage that he was imprisoned on remand. I know that Steve is a good father - I know that from observing him when his daughter was little. I know that from chatting with his daughter this spring (yes, I know her name, it's fairly unusual, no need to publish it here). I think Steve is a good bloke.

I find it appalling that Steve's responsibilities as a lone parent were not considered when he was remanded. This is nothing to do with childcare being a feminist issue, but being an issue for society. I have total respect for Sue and Phil for looking after the child; there again, I would hope all decent people would do the same. I know there are plenty of blokes banged up who don't give a damn for the children they so ignorantly or carelessly fathered, but there are plenty who do. And I think that any compassion (and bottom line pragmatism) that saves mothers from prison should also apply to fathers. As a feminist I have always argued that childcare is not a feminist issue, because it is irrelevant to the lives of most women and extremely important to that of many men. Also, I don't see why rules should be about 'child'care when an increasing number of people have responsibility for dependent adults or elderly parents etc. I think it is easier to arrange respite or foster care for children than it is for dependent adults with complex needs, and even though the majority of carers are (probably) women, it still isn't a feminist issue, but a problem for specific individuals and a challenge for society

In praise of John Treleaven

The Covent Garden Ring Cycle was beset by withdrawals, due to offspring's broken finger, severe colds, even a cover had a broken arm. One by one the characters got killed - by brother, in a row over a ring; by a brother-in-law he had cuckolded; by Wotan; in childbirth; stabbed for being a dragon;stabbed for being a mean gnome; and it was only after 15½hours that John Treleaven succumbed to being stabbed in the back.

Throughout three acts of the eponymous Siegfried, when he was barely off-stage at all, into the Prelude and 2½ acts of Gotterdammerung, I think we can all agree that John Treleaven gave 110% in effort. Totally energetic, absolutely unflagging, through four cycles (including the Preview Cycle), 25-30 hours of singing above a large orchestra, and there was never a time I couldn't hear him; I'm sure that applied to Cycles 0-2, too. The Royal Opera House selected him to play Siegfried, something he did with absolute commitment, in the performances in Autumn 05/Spring 06, too. And for that, I have to give him total respect.

I feel I ought to say that, because it seems cruel to criticise him. From what I saw, he was totally professional throughout. I have little time for singers who are obviously not trying. No one can level that accusation at John; he was very trying. I don't think he was up to the job, but he was appointed by the Royal Opera House. Appointed and retained. I hope he hasn't been reading the reviews, because he did what we all hope we can do in our respective occupations - gave everything to a job that was beyond his capabilities. I think we can all look ourselves in the mirror when we know we have tried our utmost at a difficult job. It does us no good to find out that people found us lacking. Apparently, he has a substantial career throughout Europe. Perhaps that is in smaller houses than Covent Garden. Perhaps in houses with less exacting standards. And we all know that Siegfried, especially in Siegfried, is a bastard part to sing.

I just feel I ought to say all this, rather than letting my reviews dwell too much on him. I do not want to disrespect the man, when his performance indicated that he is an honest committed performer of much integrity.

Let's just say that I find his voice unremittingly ugly. Let's just say that I found that his wobble/squawk unpleasant on the ears - before I had even attended I was drawing parallels with a dislocated shoulder. His singing was akin to a dislocated shoulder, unfortunately the NHS wasn't handing out free pethidine to get through. Some singers get compared to chocolate, velvet, crystal. John Treleaven - a dislocated shoulder. Another commentator said - and I quote

I would rather have watched 12 hours of a radio-controlled squid than the performance of a Mr John Treleaven

Bizarre as it may seem, the radio-controlled squid was actually an option at Another Opera House...in keeping with Monteverdi's wishes, I'm sure.

But without John Treleaven we would not have had Siegfried, and would have had a rather lop-sided Gotterdammerung with a massive hole in it.

And what a glowing testament to Wagner that not even Mr T could ruin his music...well, except for the final scene of Siegfried, but I suppose I just have to live with that. And I'm not even going to comment on his acting. He has massive stage presence. He has an innate musicality. It seems clear to me that he has a deep understanding of the score and what notes he ought to be singing. The fact that he couldn't hit many of them is entirely beside the point.

Right, I've acknowledged the elephant in the room; hopefully I can review the two operas now.

It's all over...

The Ring Cycle 2007 has come to an end. Eight emotional days. (Plus my bonus Die Walküre, of course). A couple of weeks ago I read something somewhere, sadly can't remember where, which suggested that attending a Ring Cycle  is a voyage of self-discovery. I have to admit that I was sceptical. I thought that I would gain a great deal of enjoyment and learn more about the actual operas. And I have. I don't think it's been a life-changing experience, but I would definitely agree that it's been a voyage of self-discovery.

Over the weekend I shall write reviews of Siegfried and tonight's Gotterdammerung, and I haven't forgotten my Die Walküre, curtain-call photos. Of course, my personal highlight has been Plácido as Siegmund, twice. You would not expect me to say otherwise. And meeting Plácido, a few times! But I will concede that this was John Tomlinson's Ring. I am so happy to have been proved so totally wrong. I had a little on-blog argument about JT's wobble. And yeah, he wobbled. He failed to ring out on the high notes. His is not a beautiful voice.

But OMG what an amazing performance! Utterly stupendous. Dramatically, all round sheer excellence. But that doesn't begin to describe it. You can't do convincing dramatic in opera without having the score in your bloodstream, without knowing the music, interpreting the music. People say "Voice first..." I say horlicks. John Tomlinson proved that it isn't necessarily about bel canto but about living and projecting the  role. Monumental. And if he doesn't get the appropriate award (Olivier award??), there is no justice in this world. This evening, he joined the curtain calls, despite not being in Gotterdammerung (he was dressed in a suit) and the house almost without exception rose in a standing ovation of tribute (I spotted maybe six people still sitting in the Amphitheatre).

My personal Ring journey began three years and eight months ago. Since then I have had the rare privilege of attending three different Rings, all within Zone 1 of London Transport. I suspect that this sequence in such a short period is unprecedented in any city and unlikely to be repeated. Lucky me! (And no, I never seldom considered myself part of a three ring circus!). In that,  I only missed the Proms Siegfried.  I can chalk up 4 Rheingolds, 6 Die Walküres, 3 Siegfrieds and 4 Gotterdammerungs. And now I feel bereft. For the first time in my recent opera-going life, I don't know where my next Ring Opera is coming from - although I've got Parsifal in December! But my life has been enhanced by that experience, and I believe that my self-knowledge has too.

It has been tiring and emotionally draining being at a Ring Cycle. I am rather pleased that nothing else has been going on this week. I was fortunate that most of my work this week has been downloading reports from the accounting system, which is about as dry as it gets, and although requiring concentration doesn't require emotional or intellectual input. Tomorrow - today - is Arsenal vs Manchester United, on Monday my lover has a minor operation. But this week has been Ring Ring Ring.

There have been a few people who have been a big and important part of my life this week - Mandy, Mo and Raffe, who have done the cycle with me, plus of course Anne Marie. Other people I have seen around and repeatedly:  a mother and son from Zurich;  David and Frances whom I chatted with at Rheingold and then kept seeing in the distance;  the familiar-faced smokers out on the terrace;  and, of course, the people sat near me - we even had our own little saga:  what would Rudolph's excuse for being late be this time - Easy Jet, M25, "I've been in the West End since 2pm...", and Rudolph's delightful colleague who I have chatted with but we never exchanged names. The man with the crutches, the woman with the cushion, the Irish women with their dry 'alternative' commentary. And the favourite of the Upper Amphitheatre, the noisy sweet unwrapper! I've spent more time with these people than I have with my work colleagues and most certainly than I have with my partner! And to the bloggers who have been there, too - especially Mostly Opera, Intermezzo, boulezian and Tales of a Cultural Hedonist (I think I was the only person who blogged ENO's Das Rheingold; opera blogging has come a long way since then). And a special thanks to my mother, who hasn't phoned during this special time ;-)

I don't suppose I will ever forget my first Ring Cycle. I don't know when I shall do it again...I expect something will happen in that great year of 2013 (or will my ambition be a Verdi cycle?)

A murder outside my house

This isn't funny. The Wimbledon Guardian, which presumably is also the Streatham Guardian, says that the police are no longer regarding it as suspicious. So why were there two police officers on the corner this evening, stopping and questioning people, although not me, perhaps because I don't fit a description, anyway I have an alibi, and I quickly put my ear to the ground, as one does in a neighbourhood.

The man killed is a Jamaican alcoholic homeless man who drinks his ten cans of Super. I'm supposed to know him, can't actually properly place him. Stabbed, I'm told. My source, who has had his ear to the ground all day has jumped to the same conclusion as me - the gangs that have been hanging around in an intimidatory manner for months outside the Knights Youth Centre. Place should have been shut down months ago, whoever runs is out of control. Jimmy's just told me he's seen deliveries going on there. And when deliveries happen you get desperate 'youths' who'll do anything for money. Include, it seems, stab a desperate alcoholic homeless man. At quarter to six in the evening. Almost broad bloody daylight. Time of day when people are moving around, coming home from work, bumper to bumper traffic on the South Circular, dropping into Tesco.

Live in an urban area long enough and you don't notice a lot of stuff. Police have been swarming the area recently, some clamp-down on car thefts (frankly, if that's their operational priority I'm appalled). Often you see police parked up outside places. Don't get involved, don't ask questions.

But what can i do, what can I say, someone got murdered outside my house yesterday, and it hasn't actually sunk in yet. I'm feeling quite calm right now, but I'm not sure that's going to last.

Very close to home

Road collapse death 'suspicious'

Not Streatham, actually...

I was annoyed that the bus carried on instead of turning left to drop me off near my house. I had a long walk (or so it seemed with achy legs etc), to find that the police have sealed off Streatham Place up as far as Carphone Warehouse. It's giving me the creeps reading that. I'm glad I was out. Jimmy's heard a rumour it was a shooting. But you know what rumours are like.