Gertsamtkunstwerk

L'heure espagnole/Gianni Schicchi

The first by Ravel, the second by Puccini.

Having read a description the hilarious 70s style clothing worn in L'heure espagnole, I assumed that the production shown on TV the other week, in hilarious 70s clothing, was the same production. But that was Laurent Pelly from Paris, whereas I saw Richard Jones's productions at the Royal Opera House. Conducted by Antonio Pappano

I did not know L'heure at all until I saw it on the TV, where it mesmerised and amused me. In fact, on the TV, I much preferred L'heure to Gianni Schicchi, which I know vaguely, and know two arias well.

L'heure espagnole cast:

Torquemada: Bonaventura Bottone
Concepcion: Christine Rice
Gonzalve: Yann Beuron
Ramiro: Christopher Maltman
Don Inigo Gomez: Andrew Shore

Pictures at Arena Pal

Gianni Schicchi cast:

Gianni Schicchi: Bryn Terfel
Lauretta: Dina Kuznetsova
Zita: Elena Zilio
Rinuccio: Saimir Pirgu
Gherardo: Jeffrey Lloyd Roberts
Nella: Joan Rodgers
Betto di Signa: Jeremy White
Simone: Gwynne Howell
Marco: Christopher Purves
La Ciesca: Marie McLaughlin
Maestro Spinelloccio: Henry Waddington
Ser Amantio di Nicolao: Enrico Fissore
Pinellino: Nicholas Garrett
Guccio: Paul Goodwin-Groen

Pictures at Arena Pal

Overall, I would say an enjoyable evening with two good - but not great - operas performed excellently in entertaining productions, but not particularly an evening to go down as one of the great memories. One of the newspapers at least awarded four and five stars and I think that is reasonable. The programme contained an essay extolling the virtues of the deadly sins of lust and greed, and using them as a link between the two works.

I went on Wednesday and it's quite difficult now to write spontaneously of my memories, particularly considering how preoccupied I have been with domesticity since. I felt that in L'heure espagnole, Torquemada and Don Inigo Gomez were character part supporting hte three leading roles. I enjoyed the performances from all of them. I think Yann Beuron was my stand out - it's the second time I 've heard him live, as well on the TV, and I would be pleased to hear more of him. He seems at ease on the stage, and I find his voice to be elegant and seemingly so effortlessly produced. I noticed in this role on the TV he seemed to be playing it an amused way aware of the ludicrous character, whereas at ROH he seemed to be playing it straight, taking it seriously. Christine Rice dominated the stage as Concepcion. There have been newsgroup comments that she didn't seem to lay it very sexily, so that was on my mind when watching. I feel it was an interpretation that wasn't especially about her flaunting an overt sexuality but, being a bored housewife approaching middle age, she needed a shag. I am not sure that sexy would have added to it. I have commented before that I although I don't especially go for Christopher Maltman's voice, I do admire his stage presence; his apparent enjoyment of the roles he plays is contagious; and his pecs were admirable. I suppose he could rightly be categorised as a barihunk. And Bonaventura Bottone and Andrew Shore gave good performances in their roles, too. So, overall, although none of them are singers I would rave about they all singers who have always delivered the goods for me and whom I would not hesitate to see, and most importantly, hear again.

To my surprise, I found myself enjoying Gianni Schicchi more than L'heure, and more than I thought I would. I actually think L'heure is funnier, but the audience in general laughed more in Gianni Schicchi, and I found the drama more compelling and absorbing, although on paper L'heure looks more interesting than a set of relations arguing over a will.

There was no doubt who was the star of the evening - Bryn Terfel in a wonderful portrayal of the lead role, dressed hiliariously like a slob. And, with all due respect to his supporting cast of singers, many of them respected and experienced singers, and to the evening's first half, there is no disguising when there is one singer of genuine star status, really great acting singer. But I also noted a tenor new-to-me, Saimir Pirgu. Who I decided sounded really lovely. I thought his voice could do with some maturing, and then I discover on the web that he is only 25...! He moves around stage with ease and elegance. Oh, and he happens to be a tad handsome, too. There is a clip on YouTube of him singing Nessun Dorma but if I had bothered to watch it before hearing him live, I wouldn't have been so impressed. Excerpts from his album are available here

So, overall, an enjoyable and worthwhile evening. No grounds for criticism, but I am pretty sure I won't have this as my highlight of the year. Largely because two third-rate operas were performed well by casts that - Bryn aside - were definitely worth going to hear and see but were not absolutely top drawer.

Go over and read Barry Tone, who writes a far better account than I am capable of, from the same night.

I just don't feel that inspired to write it up.

Freecycle Gert Cottage Style

As we find stuff, we dump it. At the end of "Gert Cottage Boulevard". So far, a computer monitor, an office chair and a radio-alarm clock have disappeared. The books have been rifled through. I appreciate that the Statistics and Accountancy books, and the empty Jewel cases, have limited appeal. but if you are one of the ten readers from the MRSRWCRA who read mmofm, we are dumping god condition stuff on a help yourself basis. If you are planning a Jumble Sale in SW2, please contact us. We have jumble but are too lazy to seek you out.

Sorry, this is a local post for local people.

But seriously, if you have a Jumble Sale, as long as it's not for Anti-Abortion or something, email me, and we can happily give you loads of stuff - books? I have dozens!!!!

It's kind of like Freecycle, but without exhausting the neurons that drive t'internet. It's a Brixton Village Freecycle. A few months ago, someone left out Skis to 'help yourself'. Oh, we're dead posh round here...

Wills and Kate - the real story

Britain is left reeling with the news that Prince "Diana's Lad" Wills and whatsername are no longer an item. Personally, I think it is the height of cynicism to bury the bad news on a day dominated by the Grand National (Thingy doesn't even look like a horse, unlike her former future-stepmother-in-law), the FA Cup Semi-Final and a scorching heatwave.

Except, of course, this is old news, and has been current in blogging circles for months.

Who is Kate Middleton, anyway?

Seeking a life of leisure

It's going from molehill to mountain. The quiet predictable routine of my boring but satisfactory life has plunged into disruption and disroutine.

Jimmy has far too much time on his hands and it's not doing me any good. He's up as I go out to work, washing windows. He's washed all the curtains in the house. He's doing stuff. Like dusting and polishing my dressing table; re-arranging the bottles of body lotion - after years of amassing an impressive lake of body lotion, I have suddenly developed an almost obsessive enthusiasm about smearing unction over my body twice a day: I found 20 bottles in various locations. I managed to escape on Thursday without being nagged to take fruit to work; later in the day I received a severe ticking off, for 'sneaking out the house without a banana'.

Friday is supposed to be my day off, the day I mess around on the internet. Fat chance. Yes, I had to go to Streatham to settle the balance on our new furniture (of which we currently await delivery). Whilst there we looked for a toolbox. Now, colour me stupid, but I would have thought that a standard traditional toolbox would be easy to find. You know, traditional, slits down the middle to allow tiered compartments to open in a zig-zag way. I would have placed money on Woolworths selling them; failing that, Argos. There wasn't even one in the Argos catalogue. Jimmy thinks he will get one easily enough from Halfords, but Halfords is the opposite direction.

We did go into Sainsburys Local to search for puddings, but swiftly left again. I may write to their customer services. I do not especially want to be confronted by aggressive rap music when I walk into Sainsburys. I don't think it's especially the image that Sainsburys Corporately want to project. It probably attracts aggressive anti-social oiks. There's no shortage of alternative suppliers from which to choose. I don't choose to spend my time and money in somewhere that plays aggressive 'music'.

Back home, and it was non-stop work, clearing and cleaning the main bedroom. Yes, necessary due to the imminent arrival of new bed, and I can't complain about the logic of it. On Thursday, my colleagues, as is customary, wished me a good weekend, and I replied, I shall be returning to work next week to relax. I wasn't joking.

No time for internet, got to purge and blitz dining/computer room. TTFN.

Plácido Domingo and Katie Melua Together on Stage

at the MEN Arena, three weeks tomorrow.

Chart topping singer songwriter Katie Melua joins world-famous tenor Plácido Domingo at the M.E.N Arena on Wednesday 2 May. Katie, who wowed M.E.N Arena audiences in January 2006, joins the Spanish tenor on stage at his only UK show of 2007 for a very special guest appearance. Katie will perform three of her best- known songs and duet with the maestro in this unique collaboration of classical and modern music.

I asked those around me who Katie Melua is, what she sounds like, because she's barely even a name to me. I was given the following responses:

• She's one of those people, had a hit once, like that actress, what's she called, who made one film
• Screechy-folk
• bring a book and some headphones
• she's very pretty

I hope she is additional to, rather than instead of, Virginia Tola. (According to Jimmy, Plácido needs two women to prop him up nowadays; I say Jimmy is just jealous)

Manchester United 7 Roma 1

BBC SPORT | Football | Europe | Man Utd 7-1 Roma (agg 8-3)

Goals from Carrick 12, Smith 17, Rooney 19, Ronaldo 44, 49, Carrick 60, Evra 81. Each one bloody good. And De Rossi's wasn't bad, either!

Splendid night, one to remember and savour. And now we are in the European Cup Semi-Final against Milano or (probably) Bayern Munich. Will make the Chelsea-Liverpool semi-final seem a bit of a provincial affair.

Washington Walküre

I know I should have blogged this ages ago, but sometimes real life and football get in the way of blogging. All a bit old news now, but, hey, it's my blog, where I log the web.

WNO's 'Walkure' Takes Flight

I don't know whether the Washington National Opera has ever presented a more thrilling 70 minutes than Act 1, which featured the company's 66-year-old general director, Placido Domingo, as Siegmund and the wonderful German soprano Anja Kampe as Sieglinde in rapturous duet. Their voices -- fresh, lithe and lustrous -- easily filled the hall, but they never sounded strained and there was none of that amped-up shouting that so commonly passes for Wagnerian declamation. A glorious teaming: Exactly what an operatic love duet should be.

American Ring Cycle Continues

 

Half of the fun at Saturday's opening night of Die Walküre, the cycle's second part, was guessing how Zambello would Americanize the next part of the story. Most of the other half involved being blown away by how good Plácido Domingo, the director of Washington National Opera, who is also starring in the demanding tenor role of Siegmund, sounds at 66 years old.

'Walkure' with American twist simply soars in Washington

Wednesday's performance began with an announcement that Domingo was battling a cold and asked the audience's indulgence. We should all function so solidly when under the weather.

There was little sign of vocal distress. His golden-toned, potently communicative phrases and assured acting revealed Siegmund's proud, impulsive nature. At 66, Domingo could be resting on his vocal laurels. Instead, he keeps adding to them. Amazing.

Francesca Zambello on the concept - An Opera Director's Norse American Itinerary

Singing 'Walkure's' praises

As Siegmund, star tenor and WNO general director Placido Domingo soars, and is clearly at the peak of his impossibly long and successful career. His characterization of Siegmund as a confused, primal hero is deeply affecting, and his now-classic voice carries effortlessly above the work's considerable orchestral forces.

Photo Journal: American Ring - Washington National Opera's New Walküre

Washington's Wondrous WALKURE is worth it!

DC Walkure

Also, Anne Marie provides a narrative in the comments here

By email, Debbie writes:

It FINALLY happened. I got to hear our hero, live, at the Walkure dress rehearsal. I have heard many great singers, however, hearing PD was an unique experience which I shall not forget! His voice was so resonant and present, never loud, never strained. And even when he was not singing out, the sound was most beautiful and full. Our hero is truly a wonder.

Our hero is not young, and there were times when he was obviously saving his energy for the performance,
moving a bit cautiously. But gosh! A man half his age would not have been jumping around with a performance looming within a couple of days. The end of the second act was incredible and the sword fight was a bit scary!

WOW!!!!!!!!

Re: Placido's beard...Mark managed the lighting brilliantly so that our Hero did not have to shave for Walkure. I never noticed the beard, of course, I was otherwise occupied  :-) .

Getting the blog back on the road...

I am very conscious that there are about ten people to whom I owe the courtesy of an email and, more importantly, follow-up action. I haven't forgotten about you, but I hope you understand that there are various other things taking precedent just now. Hopefully, I will have cleared that email backlog by the end of next weekend.

I think I have completed on my remortgaging. I signed papers on Tuesday evening, in the hope of money transfer hitting my account by the end of Thursday, although realistically, with Friday and Monday being Bank holidays in England, more likely Tuesday. I jolly well hope it is in there tomorrow, because they have earmarked (almost certainly erroneously) the first monthly payment for tomorrow, which means that those funds have been unavailable over the weekend. Sigh

Naturally, when one remortgages, especially in the light of a new loan (!) one has to spend spend spend. We have been planning spending since before Christmas, but, other than splurges in M&S and Bravissimo just before we went away, and my share of the holiday expenses, there hasn't been much.

Yesterday, more or less fully recovered from our journey home and, in the case of Jimmy, subsequent illness, we ventured out into the world. Only as far as Streatham Common, but that is a gorgeous place in which to enjoy the Spring sunshine, especially with the Rookery. And naturally, I took loads of photos because I have devoted so much time to edting those from Egypt.

After a stroll down the Common we repasted in the Pied Bull. People watching was fun, especially wondering why a 45-year-old vaguely posh woman, lunching with the YummyMummy Brigade felt it necessary to use the rhetorical nuances and inflections of Catherine Tate's Lauren the Schoolgirl.

It was very pleasant in the beer garden until a couple arrived with the intention of ignoring their loud shrill toddler as it screamed in my ear, disturbing my conversation and train of thought. Why is it that people do that - breed sprogs and then ignore them? I can't fathom it out. Must be very annoying for the other parents-of-small-children who are sitting there engaging with their quiet well-behaved offspring. So we left.

On the bus back we spotted that Beaumont Beds were having a 'Closing Down' Sale (actually, a closing for refurbishment before re-opening sale, as we later discovered). Which was good, because on Saturday we had been perusing the websites of the usual suspects for prices and styles. And today we splurged on a new main bed, a new mattress for the spare room, plus chest-of-drawers and bedside cabinet. We raced up to Brixton for a comparison with Morley's - where we bought bedding, towels and a blind - and returned to Streatham to spend an amount that made my eyes water (well, we paid a deposit, that's the best way to do things).

So lif eisn't going to get less busy. Jimmy insists that the process of clearing out the old bed and bringing in the new must be accompanied by a thorough tidy, vacuum and dust. Grghhh. He's getting dangerous. Currently not working, and not drinking very much he's full of energy. I said that things are going to be quite different. I have been used to him disappearing to bed at 8pm or earlier leaving the evening free for me to blog and watch my choice of TV. I can see us coming to blows over the TV. Although, actually, there is a second set lying idle in the spare bedroom, and the CD player in the main bedroom is actually a DVD player. And I understand it's possible to have Sky set up in a second room. I can see us finding a whole knew subject to argue about - spending time together. Oh joy...

Letting go

The house is a mess.

This is because even with out the CFS I am by nature lazy. And Jimmy has been working too long and drinking too much. It's easier to procrastinate.

But, let's be candid, a lot is to do with hoarding. I hate throwing things out. Part of me is worried about landfill, but frankly, it's too embarrassing for Freecycle and too shabby for Charity shops. I have a laptop, now, so I have thrown away two computer keyboards and we left a monitor by the roadside for 'help yourself'. Three house phones (broken) have been binned, although one retained because of its quaint ability to be used without electricity, no trivial concern. I have retained my first brick-like mobile for nostalgia, but put-to-recycling rolls of half-used Christmas wrapping paper dating back a decade. I still have my referee's whistle from 1970-something, and when I spotted my football boot rubber I did wonder what had happened to my Bryan Robson rubber. I told myself it didn't matter, one doesn't need to hang onto bric a brac in the delusion that there is symbolic value.

I feel I could ditch the case of cassettes taped off the radio during the 1980s, but I can't quite bring myself to that. It would be throwing away my memories.

And then there's clothes. I have approximately fifty tops that are appropriate for work, restaurants, concert halls etc. Perhaps a handful are beginning to look a trifle faded. I also have about thirty t-shirts, football shirts etc that are comfortable and practical for wearing the house (and remember, I am at home more days than I am out). I very bravely ditched seven M&S silk t-shirts I distinctly remember buying to wear under suits, in Ealing. In Autumn 1998. they have long been relegated to the 'wear around the house' pile. But I don't - into the bin. I have thrown three skirts from the mid-90s, because I haven't worn them in god knows how long. I tried one on, it fitted but didn't flatter.

Even so, I still have too many clothes. I ought to employ a strictly one-in one-out system. I can identify lacunae in the wardrobe - decent summer skirt and trousers, that aren't suits, for work etc. I refuse to let go the Sweatshirts, four of which date from 1990 or earlier. Or a yellow jumper I bought as a student. I no longer wear yellow. It never ventures outside the house. But I can't let it go because I'm scared I may need it sometime, just in case the other twenty or so jumpers and cardigans just won't do. I have about a dozen gorgeous pull-'em-up-stick-'em-out bras, and insist of wearing, round the house, misfits, with tired elastic or a missing underwire.

The truth is, I have too many clothes.

But Jimmy is even worse than me!

The flight back

It is very annoying when, after a fairly relaxing and restful holiday, one is subject to mistreatment on the journey back. And no explanation or apology given.

We were booked on the Excel Air flight from SSH to LGW. 20-10 to 00.50. We were collected from our hotel just after the scheduled time of 17:40 and were soon at the airport. I thought it strange that our flight was not shown on the 'check-in desk' board, but knowing that Sharm el Sheikh airport is chaotic - the resort has grown and grown, and they are building a new terminal 'due to open 2006...'. So we went through security and still could not find a check-in desk. I started grabbing people looking as confused as I felt and gradually and collectively we began to get a rumour that our flight had been cancelled. Eventually, by process of rumour and Chinese whispers, we established that our flight had been cancelled, and if we were lucky we might get on the Monarch flight to Gatwick, otherwise we were guaranteed a seat on the Jumbo Jet going to Manchester, and if we couldn't get on there, there was also a flight to Bristol. No official announcement, no visible presence from either Excel Air, or the airport, just relying on grabbing random reps and trying to get answers, not helped by some stupid chav bitch in a pink towelling tracksuit who thought she was being assertive by swearing aggressively at airport staff while telling them her emotions and that it had taken her friends twenty four hours to get back to Bristol - while others of us were trying to ask straight questions to get straight answers.

New season at Covent Garden

It was announced yesterday and fails to fill me with inspiration. The Press Release is available here

Productions etc are summarised here and here.

The Ring we already know about; I already have my tickets; and although obviously I am looking forward to it tremendously, it is discounted in my mind as old news.

I think the repertory is reasonably interesting. It's a shame there's nothing from the first 170 years of opera's 400 years. And it's tediously inevitable that there will be Tosca and Boheme without - thus far - any star names to persuade one. Carmen is revived, with Marcelo Alvarez as Don José. Naturally I shall see it for him but remain open-minded as to whether it's vocally his forte. And sure - despite my tremendous admiration for him - that he won't bring to it what Jonas Kaufmann did. Traviata is revived yet again. Anna Netrebko undoubtedly the draw. Also, Jonas Kaufmann and Dmitri Hvorostovsky. As they are on my list of potential telephone directory singers, of course I shall go, but I think it's a shocking waste of both of their talents, considering that's all either of them are doing, when I think they ought to be offered whatever they want.

Eugene Onegin will be irresistible, with Gerald Finley starring, supported by Marina Poplavskaya and Piotr Beczala. I adore Gerald, and adored him in this role at ENO (sung in English, as opposed to ROH's Russian). Such a shame he isn't doing more.

Parsifal looks attractive, as long as I'm not Wagnered-out by then. Other major highlights are L'elisir with Rolando Villazón. I hope they won't limit this to two tickets per person, because I intend taking Jimmy, but want to go more than once. Rolando also provides the other highlight in Don Carlo, which, I think, Ring Cycle apart, is objectively the season highlight, and one hopes will be televised.

And I shall go to the three English operas: Britten, Ades and Birtwhistle in order to prove my intellectual credentials.

But, apart from the above mentioned, and also Simon Keenlyside (whom, bizarrely, I have never seen in a staged opera), but will be my pet project I think, the casting is uninspiring. So many absences, miscasts and barely presents. Plácido is only in Walküre, two performances, and I just can't see me getting a ticket for the one I haven't already booked. As I say, Dima and Jonas's one appearance hopelessly miscast, and Marcelo's one appearance, we shall see...No JDF. And that's just the tenors (oh and of course no Roberto Alagna, either, or José Cura for that matter). Sopranos missing include Angela Gheorghiu, Karita Mattila and Renée Fleming. Not that I am knocking the various people scheduled to sing. It would be delightful to hear unfamiliar singers if they prove to be delightful, but I feel that the casting is decidedly unstarry for a leading house. If they are avoiding Big Stars for the main part, they also seem to overlooking the brightest and best of emerging British talent, too, with the likes of Sarah Connolly, Alice Coote and Carolyn Sampson overlooked once again, and Iain Paterson just a Nazarene in Salome. I could go on.

Eyebrows and Shirtless aside, I think the most significant contribution will be from David McVicar. I haven't seen his Zauberflote, because I am yet to be converted to the charms of the opera, but will do so, because I now realise he is my favourite director (And it stars Shirtless). Also, Figaro, my favourite opera, with a great staging and a potentially decent cast (let's hope Ildebrando Arcangelo's singing is more impressive when not atop a horse). And a new production of Salome. Although I am not a Strauss fan, it is short. I know nothing about Nadja Michael and don't know how she will interpret the Dance of the Seven Veils. I'd get more excited about La Cenerentola if it were JDF rather than Pretty Blonde Spenceboy (with apologies to PBS fans...). And I'm not sure about Magdalena Kozena and don't care especially for Rossini.

Still, looking on the bright side, there is not much for counter-tenors...

Update: another blogview

Two weeks in Sharm

It was not the most well thought out holiday. It became very obvious that we desperately needed a break. Sun and sea were of paramount importance. At this time of year, one has to choose somewhere that is reasonably far away to get the weather. Egypt at 5 hours away is good like that. And we like Egypt.

The trouble with the resorts in Egypt is that they are so geared up to All Inclusive it is difficult, and potentially expensive to do it otherwise.

It would be tempting to write a catalogue of what went wrong, hyping it to make it seem like a saga of disasters, but that would be exaggeration. It is just that we are likely to remember two very negative elements far more than the positives. The hotel, the Pyramisa in Shark's Bay, Sharm el Sheikh had a great number of positives. Having booked it, I read a lot of tales on Trip Advisor, and, despite applying necessary scepticism, had many qualms. None of which were justified.

It is a beautifully designed hotel, except that, like holiday hotels everywhere, the walls between rooms, and to the communal areas, are so thin that it was impossible not to hear every footfall and quiet conversation, let alone the noisier elements. It was everything I expected of African 5 star, which isn't European/North American 5 star, and get used to it. It was scrupulously clean, the food was varied and edible if, ultimately, not very exciting. Service was superb. Yes, we take measures to ensure good service, but that's life. We were tipping 60 LE a day, between the restaurant, bar and room cleaner. That's about 5 UKP. Worth every Piastre. But we accompanied our tipping with courtesy and politeness, which we believe to be as important.

We were glad we went when we did, and not later, because towards the end of the second week, the children began to arrive in droves. There were numerous perfectly well behaved children with attentive parents, and a good few more who were well-behaved but noisy. And then there are the horrors, for which I blame the parents. For example, the brats from hell whose parents allowed them to run up and down screaming and shouting, and slamming doors in our corridor for three quarters of an hour up to midnight and again for quarter of an hour at 1 am. And the various children permitted to run around the bar and restaurant, swinging on one's chair or interrupting one's conversation/thought process as the idiot parents peer gormlessly inactive. I inadvertently hit a small child as she ran under my elbow. For a split second I was horrified but she careered into a very large man who had not so much stepped back as shifted his balance to his back foot. This was by the hot soup.

Then there is the delicate issue of international relations. It's lazy to characterise people by nationality, but I do believe that stereotypes exist and persist because they have an element of truth. Fortunately we were spared the Brits Abroad syndrome, the getting drunk and falling over. Admittedly, our next door neighbours had a habit of arguing drunkenly at half past midnight, but they left after a few days and their replacements only had loud (Italian) conversations at 6.30 am and 6.30 pm.

The majority of guests split 50-50 between Brits and "Russians", the latter certainly including Ukrainians and Lithuanians and doubtlessly other former Soviet Union nationalities. And a small minority played up to the "Russians Abroad" syndrome. But despite the pushing and rudeness (aimed mainly at the waiting and serving staff), I would far rather experience "Russians" en masse than Brits (although what's that thing about applauding when the plane lands...?). We had a pleasant evening drinking with a group of Ukrainian lawyers, and had previously watched a Ukrainian group drinking session with admiration. Apart from a loud but short toast every twenty minutes or so, they got very very drunk and other than offering their vodka to neighbouring tables did not encroach on anybody else's space or relaxation.

I have become resigned to hotels' addiction to constant thud-thud music and would be curious to know whether anybody actually appreciates it. We favoured Beach No. 3, ostensibly the quiet beach, where people went to read or sleep. But at times it was bombarded by thud thud from four sources, the Pool and Beach number 1, as well as the adjoining hotel and the public beach. I don't see why it has to be amplified to be intrusive for such a distance. There was a Kids Club and Disco on site, surely they would have been better sites for thud thud. Even if the volume was lowered, the the bass wasn't, and for me there is little more annoying than computer generated percussion. Proper drums I like, because the rhythm is human, and the drummer has a heart beat, and breathes. The fact that the 'music' in question is without any merit, is repetitive, and is reminiscent of the worst examples of Eurotrash disco crap from the late 70s early 80s doesn't help. In contrast, in the bar in the evening, it was obvious that people were dancing to My Way, to tango and salsa; we were chatting with a woman who said she doesn't mind a bit of Chris de Burgh (not really my taste, but my point is, I don't see a CdeB fan wanting thud thud disco music). Of course, many people had mp3 players, but it is actually even more annoying to hear thud thud above one's own selection. I would imagine that in a hotel of over a thousand people from various nations and of many different ages, the diversity of musical tastes would be quite considerable.

The things-that-went-wrong will be in another entry, and the holiday highlight will be yet another!

Domingo's golden tenor

Interview with Pláci in the Manchester Evening News, plus mp3 sound clip - Plácido Domingo on health and happiness.

In a time when tenor "opera stars" are 10 a penny - and half of them have never actually sung an opera in their lives - Placido Domingo is the 21-carat real thing...Still commanding on stage, with his rugged good looks and dark, smouldering eyes, he cuts a fine figure for his 66 years.

Four weeks today, I see him at the M.E.N. Arena. What was that slogan the Evening News used to have - 'Just a friend dropping in...'

Holiday photos

I've only just uploaded them, but I think this will prove to be the best, taken in the Temple of Karnak in Luxor.

View from our hotel...

Just kidding. Sort of, anyway. This photo was taken from our hotel, but it was a large complex, and the planes did not pose any annoyance or irritation. Indeed, it wasn't until the holiday was nearly over that I realised just how near the airport we were...

Back...bleurgh

I give up. Any good that comes from a holiday (and we shall not assess this at this stage) is totally destroyed by the journey back. We departed our hotel at 1740 Egyptian time (ie GMT+2, BST+1) and arrived home at 10.40 BST, a total of 18 hours travelling - I think. The flimsier details are recorded at My Twitter, accessible from my sidebar.

It's going to take all week to get my body clock up to date, let alone the bloody internet, numerous chores, and, not insignificantly, work, which starts in fourteen hours.

Next holiday Bournemouth. Or maybe, you know, just a gentle stroll round Streatham Common.

Packing

There are very effective ways of packing light, but they don't really apply to an All-Inclusive holiday.

If we were going self catering, it would be pretty easy. Assuming an absence of convenient laundry facilities, I would take one top per day and a small selection of 'bottoms', shorts for the day and skirts/trousers for the evening, plus appropriate amounts of underwear.

But I'm thinking. Okay, suppose we spend every day on the beach - we won't, but suppose. I ought to be able to get away with just beachwear and evening wear. But then I think, I'll need t-shirts for breakfast and lunch. Frankly, I do not regard it as an assault on hygiene to pull on last night's top for breakfast, and shower afterwards. Or, indeed for the half an hour it takes to eat lunch. But there's a part of me that thinks 'people will notice'. Do I actually care of people notice? No, not really. But right now, packing, I do.

I'm looking at my selection of bottoms. Thinking, those trousers are way too scruffy for dinner. I know that that won't be the case when I'm out there. And, again, do I really care, do I really think that people will be inspecting my trousers for smartness? And if they do, if they make remarks amongst themselves, will I know? If they make remarks to my face, that is their rudeness.

The magazines always have these articles, basically pick one colour and stick to it. Have one magical skirt you wear every night, with a selection of tops. Perhaps one could get away with two of everything, wear or wash. But who wants to spend their holiday washing?

And then there's the electricals. Not so much the gadgets, as the chargers. Camera, phone, mp3 player. Not taking the lappy or the palm. Yes, it's fun to load up the holiday photos as part of the entertainment, but is it worth having two days of backache and constant niggle about room security.

And reading stuff. I shall pack a selection of magazines; I shall buy some bonkbusters airside. But reading material does add the weight.

I do wonder about the point of going on holiday. Waste an entire day packing and organising. Waste two days travelling. Arrive back in the wee sma' and take a week to recover from the return journey.

Norfolk or the Lakes has a definite appeal.

Monteverdi's L'Orfeo

I was in attendance at a performance of this by the New London Consort at Queen Elizabeth Hall. I do not have any recordings, but I thought it was a piece with which I had at least passing familiarity. Turns out I didn't. So confusing with all these different operas all about Orpheus and Eurydice.

This is historically a very special opera. Not, technically, the first opera, but the oldest one that survives in a do-able form. Crucially, it was first performed in 1607 (February 24, to be precise) so there is a widespread impulse to celebrate 400 years of opera with a bit of a party. This is not the first production in London this year; additionally, the Lufthansa Baroque Festival will perform it, and it is part of Opera North's rep this season. Last year, the Primi Divi had a special award for 'Best Production of Le Nozze di Figaro'; perhaps this year there might be scope for 'Best Production of L'Orfeo'!

The evening got off to an inauspicious start with an absence of lights on stage. So the audience were treated to the sight of a techie crawling around the orchestra while the conductor, Philip Pickett, extemporised about the opera. He explained that there were two parts to the orchestra - the Olympia/Pastorale part and the Inferno part - who are the baddies, so we duly obliged with pantomime boos and hisses. It went through my mind that everybody should hold their hands up, because many hands make light work. Fortunately, I was on aisle seat, with two empty seats next to me (no-shows, I think, the hall was all but full), so I had no one with whom to share my dubious humour.

the cast was largely unknown, to me at least. The only name I recognised was that of Michael George, whom I have heard on many occasions, but I'm afraid I was inordinately amused when overhearing a very elderly couple discussing afterwards and constantly referring to him as George Michael.

Most of the rest were on the young side, and whilst there was no one who struck me as a star about to explode, I was very aware of some beautiful voices and compelling performances. The cast was Mark Tucker, Joanne Lunn, Julia Gooding, Revital Raviv (definitely my favourite name of the week), Faye Newton, Mark Chambers, Andrew King, Joseph Corwell, Michael George, Simon Grant, Mark Rowlinson and Martin Robson. The star was undoubtedly Mark Tucker, whom I have never encountered before, but seemed to inhabit the role.

It was a staged performance, a revival of a Jonathan Miller production from three or four years ago. No scenery, and the only sets were two benches, more functional than decorative. It worked well in the small space, a lot more satisfying than a pure 'park-and-bark' concert version would have been. Nevertheless, I regret that the house lights were not reduced enough to prevent me reading the programme. Whilst lights remain, it is too easy to be distracted, notwithstanding the absorbing music and performance.

I thought the orchestra was excellent. I do like period instruments, especially in a space like QEH - I don't think they work so well in big spaces - and I generally know I'm in for a treat when there are sackbuts and theorbos. To be frank, it would sound all wrong with a modern orchestra.

It lacked many of the elements that put people off baroque opera. I was not conscious of there being long passages of recitative secco, and although the harpsichords featured prominently, I did not feel that they were substituting for actual orchestrated music. Talking of harpsichords, a man greeted me with "Hello, didn't we meet the other night - you were playing the harpsichord." Politely, I said not, but fell to wondering whether I could pass myself off as a harpsichordist, before remembering that I can't play the right and left hands simulataneously on any keyboard...

There was a counter-tenor in the cast, but he was used judiciously. So I never got the chance to go through my usual mantra of 'beautiful but now you're getting boring...'. He was beautiful.

There were plenty of instances of ensemble singing. Only a small chorus, consisting of the previously named soloists, but they sounded magnificently. What I like about Monteverdi is his use of counterpoint; I like the way the sound seems to bounce around.

Most of all, this is undoubtedly a tenor's opera. Clearly, the first surviving opera was written to showcase a tenor, and it's a bit galling to think of all those decades - centuries - that passed with more attention given to castrati (now replaced by c-ts) and baritones. Most splendid was the 'virtuouso aria' Possente spirto, no less a tour de force than anything that Wagner might have written 250 years later.

But I was very disappointed that they seem to have omitted the Can Can.

Meanderings on blogging

I have been failing almost entirely to keep up with my blogroll since before Xmas. It's a syndrome: the more unread posts that mount up, the more daunting Bloglines seems. I have a long blogroll, too long, and it serves both as an alert for readers to blogs that I like, and conceivably that they may like, and like a minor salute to their writers.

But to be truthful, all long-running blogs go through ups-and-downs. They evolve over time, and even when they are not on official hiatus, they nevertheless reflect disinclination on the part of their blogger, which is usually reflective of stuff that's happening in their lives.

I am conscious that, with a couple of exceptions, I have not commented on any blogs since Christmas. I feel guilty about that. Perhaps there are bloggers saying, hmm, not had a comment from Gert for ages. Or maybe that is arrogant of me: whether it's comments or hits, I tend to notice those who are present rather than those who are absent, and no doubt everyone else is the same.

When I return from holiday, I shall re-apply my self to blog-reading in a way to maximise my enjoyment, because that is why I do it. But, in the meantime, if you are a blogger, feel free to leave a comment in my box, highlighting an entry from 2007 you are particularly proud of. Alternatively, bloggers and non-bloggers alike, why not randomly pick a blog you've never read before from the sidebar and go over there and read it. If you like it, leave a comment here to say why. If you don't like it, well, let's be nice and put it down to differences in tastes/interests.

I might send the occasional text to Twitter, but I don't intend to have an endless stream of 'sitting on the beach' 'sitting in a restaurant' .

We don't actually leave until Sunday, but becaus eI'm not working today and Jimmy has left the café, for ever, we've been having one of those eve of holiday days. All that's missing is the obligatory curry, because the curry house owner's brother decided to stab and hospitalise him last night. When I went past early afternoon, the police were in attendance.

Current and future releases

I have just noticed that DG have recently released Hommage á Sevilla on DVD. Future DVD releases include Les Troyens.

No mention of the Leoncavallo I Medici, for which I was searching following an intriguing post on Opera-L that says

The recording will be conducted by Alberto Veronesi for DGG. Domingo
will sing the part of Giuliano de'Medici, a role created by Verdi's first Otello, Francesco Tamagno...Some other Leoncavallo and versimo recording surprises are also in the works.

Concert in Santiago de Chile

Update update: I just found this picture on BBC News  Spanish tenor Plácido Domingo and Chilean soprano Veronica Villarroel perform to 20,000 people at a free concert in the Plaza de Armas square in Santiago, Chile.

Update: Already a clip on YouTube...

Fiesta popular y termómetro político en concierto de Plácido Domingo y Verónica Villarroel

Great picture

Plácido Domingo trabajará hasta el último día de su vida para devolver el cariño que le ha dado el público Or as Google translated it: 'Plácido Domingo will work until the last day of his life to give back the affection that the public has given  him'.  Not that one should rely too much on machine translations; apparently, yesterday's gratuitous concert included those well known pieces 'I sell black eyes' and 'The Moan of Frederico...', whilst Lippen Schwegen was sung  in lamentable Spanish...

Another report from the Press conference with nice photo...

And I'm afraid the significance of him mentioning a future 3Ts concert has only just dawned on me: it means that Luciano Pavarotti is healthy enough to perform. Whether or not I would be inclined to pay good money is entirely beside the point: it demonstrates that wide-spread pessimism about Pav is misplaced. Which is excellent news.

Finally, my Quality control processes (examining site stats) shows that insufficient people are clicking on this link kindly provided by Rebecca in comments to a previous entry. Currently on the front-page on Yahoo Entertainment video but will fall back with the elapse of time; or, alternatively on the Associated Press site.

Plácido's World Tour

I write that like he's suddenly had this notion to perform world-wide, rather than the truth that he has been globe-trotting for 40 years. Sadly, I have been unable to find any internet reports from Abu Dhabi (26/2) or Taipei (3/3), possibly due to my inability to read either Arabic or Chinese script.

Tomorrow,  Santiago de Chile, free admission. A Press conference gives me an excuse to post photos:

And in 53 days, Manchester. Before that, Granada. Hmm, I wonder what the encores will include...

Looking lovely as ever. I expect he will have got rid of the beard by the time he gets to Manchester, seeing that he's singing Siegmund in Washington in April. I do so love him with a beard.

More - Plácido Domingo espera reencuentro con Carrera y Pavarotti. Hmm, do we realy need another 3Ts concert?

Not sure what this is all about...

Interview with Plácido

Placido Domingo at 66: 'I still feel the passion'

I feel exhausted just reading it...

Includes mention of future roles eg in Iphigenie en Tauride, Tamerlano. Also a recording of Leoncavallo's I Medici. nope, I've never heard of it, an opera about doctors, I assume ;-)

Someone wrote on a newsgroup the other week that he's not an opera singer, but a mad statistician. It made me laugh.

And a mention of the Ravinia Festival. Any Festival that features Plácido Domingo and kd lang can't be bad. Now, if that were a joint appearance I would pay serious money and travel. It isn't.

La vita è inferno . . . O tu che in seno agli angeli

I totally adore this aria, and I really love this performance. Somehow, being in black-and-white gives it greater poignancy. But I do wish the audience would desist from clapping until the clarinet solo is over; it's a vital and intrinsic part of how Verdi wrote it, and it just betrays bucketloads of musical ignorance. It's a shame Forza isn't performed more often; I prefer it to many of the repertory mainstays. Plácido has said it's his favourite Verdi opera (what! he never heard Otello?) and his youngest son is called Alvaro (I think Otello would have been a bad choice...)

There's over 500 hundred clips of Plácido on YouTube, and the number seems to grow every day...

The moment I fell in love...

I have been avoiding YouTube for six months (it steals my time!) so I have only just found this clip of when I fell in love with Plácido as a result of being forced to watch Parky and not goand sulk in my room.

I think he's more gorgeous now...

I hate football

I speak from years - decades - of sheer hatred. It is not enjoyable, there is no pleasure to be gained from football.

And we are now entering the period of the year when football becomes even less enjoyable. Take Saturday. Why on earth has there to be an early kick off. What team in their right minds takes off Wayne Rooney and replaces him with John O'Shea? Of course, I leapt in the air when John O'Shea scored United's winner. In injury time. At Anfield.

And that's when the misery begins. Alex Ferguson dancing on the sidelines, reminiscent of Sheffield Wednesday at home, 1993. Commentators using the nasty C word. Commentators trying to convince us that United are 12 points ahead of Chelsea; tea-time adjustment to 9 points. In my opinion, no more than 6.

Nine games to go, ten for Chelsea. I envy my brother who today reflected "At least we've avoided relegation this season..." And that's as much as one can say.

I don't know what's coming up. Except a Euro match on Wednesday. Never look beyond the next game. one game at a time. Bloody Sky regarding yesterday's fluke result as a Coronation. Okay, not a fluke result. United play to the final whistle. Good teams play badly and win.

One of these days I shall declare myself not to be a football fan. there's no fun in being nine points ahead of the Premiership whilst still in Europe and the FA Cup.

It would be so easier to be a fan of a team that never achieves anything.

Luisa Fernanda on DVD

Luisa Fernanda has been released on DVD, apparently last week

I don't know anything about it, except that when it was shown on TV last summer, my Favourite Niece rang me from her Ibiza poolside to inform me it was 'quite good'. 

I've just ordered it from MDT, which is cheaper than Crotchet. It appears not available from Amazon.co.uk. Your retailer of preference may vary...

Update: I have just found the official Opus Arte site, with Picture Gallery...

Cyrano de Bergerac on YouTube

From the New York Metropolitan Opera in 2005:

Sword-fighting, with panache:

When Roxana comes to the bakery, and for a few moments, Cyrano has hope:

The Balcony Scene:

The wonderful Final Scene. A man in his Sixties really shouldn't be falling to the floor like that. Long may he continue!

These are nice clips, presumably privately filmed, and its great that Oneguin65 has uploaded them, but no substitute for a commercial DVD - shame on the Met and ROH for dropping that catch; thankfully, it is reported that Valencia will be releasing a DVD. I want.

Ernani

Romping through the operas-on-video alphabetically, we come to Ernani, a hidden gem, and a vastly underrated opera from 1844, early in his early period.   

The opening chorus tells you  it's going to be gloriously tuneful. Then this gorgeous tenor appears, and you just know who's side you're  going to be on! Even before he opens his mouth, you think: lie back on the sofa and purr with anticipation. Opening aria is just gorgeous! And leads into a first scene dominated by Ernani. The tessitura is quite high lying, and  I suppose for those who don't like Pláci, it's an example they would give of him straining for the high notes. But I don't hear it as straining, more as a vulnerability, which I find appealing. He's looking very sexy, in tight silky breeches that emphasise the loveliness of his thighs.

The next scene is Elvira's. She  is dressing in her chamber with her maids, pining for Ernani as she contemplates her pending Forced Marriage Against Her Will with her evil Guardian and Uncle, Don Ruy Gomez de Silva.

I suppose this illustrates the shortcomings of inexperienced Verdi. The systematic move from emphasising first one character then the other.  Not much of interest coming from "stand and bark" Freni. No, that's unfair. she's not barking, but she's not in the best vocal condition, and while it all sounds fine to my ears in terms of pitch, rhythm etc, it's just not a particularly beautiful sound and she doesn't really sound much like a girl poised on the brink of womanhood.

Juxtaposed headlines

Charlotte Church confirms she is pregnant

Customs uncover illegal vodka distillery in Cardiff

Made me laugh...

General Moan

Feel free to ignore, and I'm not looking for sympathy.

Besides, it's long and boring. No lengthy boringness should be allowed on the internet.

I know that whenever one has a moan about minor trivial stuff, one immediately finds someone else who is in a similar but worse situation. And in any case, I know that there are plenty of people a lot worse off than me. So I'm definitely not looking for sympathy.

It just annoys me. Illness, that is. Throughout my life I've had my fair share - or less - of routine illnesses and inconsequential injuries.

Then in 2004, I had all that time off, and I've never been right since, including being reduced to part time. I look back and remember how bad I was. I am not sure I realised at the time. I would typically sleep for twelve hours, do nothing, and then require a nap of an hour or two before reverting to doing nothing before another twelve hours sleep.

And gradually I began to improve. I would feel good, and I would push it, only to find that I was again tired and needing sleep. Lots of it. Sometimes it's difficult to distinguish the dull ache of exhaustion from the tender ache of soreness. I can't sit still for long without being reduced to pain. For example, on training courses, I sit there attentive for a while, then I ache and fidget. I find getting a second chair and putting my feet up helps considerably. I was on a day-long course a year or so back, and people - slight acquaintances and strangers - gave me strange looks, which is sort of embarrassing. On the other hand, on our Unit conference in October, not only did no one make any joking/snidey remarks but there were people who fetched and arranged my second chair for me.

Even so I find it tiresome that I feel the need to explain so often. I look 'normal' - but don't many people with disabilities? And sometimes I'm not disabled at all. Sometimes I can run for buses, bound up stairs. I have always been full of nervous, adrenaline-fuelled unproductive energy. So it is difficult to convince people sometimes that using a lift or standing on the down escalator is not laziness. Once I was wincing with pain, someone asked me what was the matter. Stiff and achy I replied. She sympathised, she felt the same after a new exercise class the previous evening. I know she meant well, but I don't and can't do exercise classes. Swimming's good for me, once I'm in it, but it's the getting there. And - I'll admit it - when I pay a fortune for a professional hair-dye, I'm not sure I want it ruined by constant exposure to chlorine. I get my hair done after a beach holiday, not before.

But those are the good days. The bad days are the ones where I lack the energy to do anything except mooch and procrastinate. The disturbed sleep patterns. I know I don't help myself. I should force myself to get up, to make sure I am tired at a decent time. Instead, I get up at midday on a Sunday, bed at one o'clock, up at midday on a Monday, which means, I am not ready to sleep by midnight or later, one or two sometimes, which means I have insufficient sleep to get me through Tuesday, normally a working day.

Sometimes I feel great and I enthusiastically embrace life, then I get so far and I just droop. We have been in restaurants and Jimmy knows it's time to get out. As soon as possible. I find that the reserve of adrenaline and misplaced energy can have its uses - if something matters enough I will get through it. But a routine meal out, or day at work is not enough.

It's nice to go for a walk. Even then I have to pace myself. An hour's walking is just enough. Followed by a soak in the bath or a pint in a pub. And not if I have anything planned for later.

And yet I know I am now much much better than I was three years ago, or two years ago. I have to accept that I am no better than I was a year ago. I have to accept that it probably won't get any better than this. And that is quite difficult to deal with. This is it, for life now. Of course, it's good that I get out. I do not see much of friends these days - I'm generally too nervous about making arrangements I end up cancelling. I'm a write-off for electioneering, except perhaps for telephone Voter ID, which I have never enjoyed, and am never comfortable doing.

I did join the gym at work, not for vigorous work-outs, but for yoga and pilates. I could never be bothered. Maybe I should make more of an effort. I'm gaining weight alarmingly.

But it does upset me sometimes when I know all the things I used to be capable of doing and am no longer. Having a basically sunny and optimistic personality, I keep thinking it will get better. Of course it will. who spends their life being tired and achey every day. It's a comfort to know that however bad it feels, it's not as bad as three years ago.

And then I have really bad days. sometimes, a whole week of bad days. When sleeping just isn't enough. when I wide awake and tired. They say if you want something doing, ask a busy person. I am the opposite. Sometimes I sit around doing nothing all day long. Not because of an absence of things to do, but because I don't have the energy.

As I say, I'm not looking for sympathy. Just trying to explain why sometimes I give the impression of not-being-bothered, why I am for ever destined to let people down,to let myself down.