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(no subject) [Sep. 1st, 2006|08:15 pm]
Technorati Profile Got this from the Technorati fellows. Let's see where it's going to take us.
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The Industry - and Us. [Aug. 24th, 2006|12:11 pm]
Many folks are confused these days. We don't know whose fault it really is, George W. Bush's or James H. Kunstler's, but, hey - someone suddenly asks -

What is the Opera Industry (sometimes referred to on our site as, simply, the Industry ... or, the Establishment)?

The Opera Industry is the section of the Entertainment Industry that is in charge of operatic shows, concerts, recordings, media, news, and critics. It partners with the Classical Music Industry.

Is it evil?

An industry cannot be evil, only abtuse.

How Getting Opera's NOT being part of the Opera Industry help the seminar?

That one's a doozy. I mean, come on. If you wanted to buy a car, would you trust General Motors to tell you which car is the best for you? Does the term "independent criticism" mean anything anymore?

Sheesh.
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MY FAVORITE QUESTIONS (AND SOME REPLIES) [Aug. 24th, 2006|03:12 am]
Q. So what do you do at this seminar?
A. Drugs.

***

Q. (sort of) I probably know opera better than you do!

***

Q. (after looking at the "Getting Opera" poster for a while) Is there a good bar in the neighborhood?
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YOUR HEALTH, MAESTRO! [Aug. 20th, 2006|04:58 pm]
We really look forward to seeing Placido Domingo conduct La Boheme at the Met this season!
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VERDI SQUARE INCIDENT [Aug. 20th, 2006|04:12 am]
Ricardo, a professional novelist, as well as "our man in the trenches" (when he has some extra time), reports –

I was sitting on a bench, editing a manuscript. The Getting Opera poster sat next to me.

...Afterwards, I spent some time trying to remember whom the fellow reminded me of. Finally I got it – Arturo Toscanini, when he was just over fifty.

Anyway, he was Napoleon’s height, and wearing shorts, sneakers, T-shirt, etc. Unlike Toscanini’s, his face expressed a mixture of perpetual skepticism and habitual suspicion, with the eyes of a person whose thoughts on any subject can only be definitive and unquestionably correct.

Which is to say, I knew I shouldn’t have talked to him at all. Opera may be for everyone, but not the seminar, I guess. He was not interested in the seminar at all. He was only interested in showing me that he was superior, knowledgeable, and always right. I happen to like people of that sort, except when it comes to dealing with them.

His first phrase threw me off a bit.

He said, "Bear in mind, I’m not giving you any money."

I didn’t get it at first. Like, huh? What money? Then I got it. Still, my reply came out a bit too formal, I’m afraid, something along the lines of, "This is a commercial venture. We’re not looking for a subsidy." Something like that. Whatever. I made it sound like a joke. I smiled. He had been smiling all along. His smile was anything but affectionate.

"So, what’s it all about?"

I started to explain. Among other things I mentioned that, once a person participates in the seminar, we guarantee that he or she will never again be bored listening to opera. Not once. Ever. Before I could get to explaining why this was, he interrupted me, saying,

"I go to the opera very often. I’ve seen most of the Met’s productions over the years, and I haven’t been bored once."

Hmm. I mean, what do you say to something like that? The alarm bell went off for the second time – I should have ended the conversation there and then, politely but firmly. I didn’t. I’m an idiot.

A person who sees all of the operas in the repertoire and hasn’t been bored once is a very unusual person – to say the least. Some of those spotlights aren’t functioning properly. I mean, really. I mean, out of every forty movies, some are bound to be a bit boring, if only a little bit. Two dozen books must contain a tedious passage or two. Opera as a genre is no different. The law of averages, you know.

I picked up on that – I explained, very politely, that the seminar wasn’t for him. He was too much of an expert. Sorry.

He said, "Show me that flyer."

I did, and I’m sorry.

He glanced at it. Then he inquired condescendingly, "So what do you tell your audience?"

I started (again) to explain. I mentioned that a person can be taught a whole lot of things, such as counterpoint, harmonization ...

He interrupted me again. He said,

"I have a very good music education."

The alarm went off for the third time. Why did he feel that I absolutely had to know the degree of his educational prowess at that point? Did he imagine it would elevate him in my eyes, or make me feel inferior?

I got back to the beginning of the sentence. "You can teach a person anything – counterpoint, orchestration, harmonization, voices, modulations, dynamics, the circle of fifths, but you cannot teach someone how to compose a melody. Melody constitutes the "art" part in music. A musician can only call himself an opera composer if he can dash off any number of melodies at will. A good opera calls for ... "

I should have stopped there, after finishing the intro. I didn’t. I went on, moving swiftly (I thought) towards the punch line.

He interrupted me again.

"Can you name some operas that don’t have melodies?" he asked, sounding contemptuous and dismissive. "Do such operas exist?"

He threw me off – again. A man who goes to see operatic performances indiscriminately should know ... well ... I named the first title that crossed my mind, "Lulu."

"Are you saying," he asked with dripping contempt, "that there are no melodies in Lulu?"

"That’s what I said," I said. "There are no melodies in Lulu."

Well, when all is said and done – that’s something a person who thinks of himself as an expert should know – after all, it is a well-established fact that the author of Lulu specialized in atonal music.

"You’re wrong," he said. "You’re wrong," he repeated, qualifying it with an expletive which, for whatever reason, did not seem to come naturally to him.

He stepped away and, ripping up the brochure very demonstratively, threw it in a trash can.

"Fine," I said. "If there are any melodies in Lulu, why don’t you hum one for me."

With even greater contempt than before, he said,

"A melody does not have to be hummable."

Right. Water does not have to be wet. Presidential candidates do not have to be intelligent (the results are before us). Everything’s relative.

He walked away. Stopping once, he turned and said,

"You’re lucky I ripped it up. I should have reported you."

Goodness gracious.
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Hello everyone! [Aug. 20th, 2006|02:48 am]
Hi!

From now on, we're going to post all kinds of interesting things about opera, as well as some of the impressions we get, and experiences we have, while running this seminar for you!
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