Blame Ken Russell

Do you ever wonder where your own particular fetishes/quirks/peccadilloes came from?  Today  I realized where mine began. It was all of those damn Ken Russell films I saw starting at the tender age of 7, when my mother took me to see "Women in Love" at the drive-in. I haven't missed many of his films since. Sex, horror, rock and roll, and classical music- there you have it- Marcher explained. Though the films were often awful, he was a true master of the indelible image. Here are a few of the tamer ones which will never leave me.

This should explain my bathroom to anyone who's ever wondered "what's with those photographs?"

Thanks for the memories, Ken (and the therapy bills).

The False and True are One

A few weeks ago Isabella was sitting at my kitchen table, watching me chop vegetables, and we were talking about the quiet deceptions people perpetrate on one another. Something she said reminded me of an advertising mailer I  received a couple of days earlier. I put the knife down, took the mailer from the shelf and handed it to her.

"The False and True are One," she said.

"Isn't that a beautiful title for a work?" 

"Absolutely," she replied, and began to read the card. "We should go see this."

The idea expressed in the title of author Lydia Davis' short work has mirrored reality for me for two years- a theme played out time and time again and if I were to rename this blog it would be an apt choice. So a performance representing something so dominant in my own life was obviously alluring. Seeing it with Isabella even more so, because lately people have mistaken her to be someone else, a case of the true being mistook for the false, and they are not one, at least in this case. 

The Friday before last we walked over to YBCA and caught the second performance. It's dance piece created by choreographer Liss Fain and performed by her company. Designed as an installation, it takes place in the center of the room, not on a stage, and the audience is invited to sit where they like within defined spaces and even move around if they desire. It means no one is going to see the show in exactly the same way.

The space, cleanly designed by Matthew Antaky, is set up in four quarters with a small stage in the center of it with a desk and reading lamp. That's where actor Nancy Shelby sits, reading Davis' prose as 9 dancers move among the squares while a soundscape by Dan Wool provides music and mood. There are translucent panels creating the sensation of events unfolding in different rooms, or places in time, and the dancers create intimate moments that disintegrate and then form again on another part of the floor in a different guise. In the meantime, another has taken their place right in front of you. Sometimes they're dancing, sometimes they're watching.  What you are watching is based on your perception, what and who you choose to watch, and what draws your attention. It's a bit of a pleasant mind-fuck to inevitably know you're going to miss something. 

Jeremiah Crank. Photo by RJ Muna

Fain's dancers are a talented lot- I was especially drawn to the movements of Jeremiah Crank and the sisters Shannon and Megan Kurashige. At moments I was drawn deeply into the work, only to find myself yanked out of it at odd times, mostly by something Shelby said that in my mind conflicted with how I was perceiving what the dancers were conveying. Reconciling the two, something I sought to do and perhaps shouldn't have, proved elusive to me in the end and left me curious but not satiated. Part of the problem for me was Shelby's delivery of Davis' text, which seemed more concerned with establishing a metrical rhythm than exploring the implications of the words. If you're familiar with the work of Joe Frank, who used to do this kind of vocal performance better than anyone during his Work in Progress days, you'll understand what I mean.

The Janus-like implications of the work's title never became clear to me in the work itself, and as it ended with the words "What are my happy memories so far?," I found it ironic it didn't leave more of a bite. Still, I would see it - and Liss Fain's company, again. There are some videos on the companies website of the work.

The Big List of Classical Music Blogs

Image from www.danfisher.org  used without permission

From Toronto, Colin Eatock launched a new site today called The Big List of Classical Music Blogs. There are over three hundred URLs listed and the site is nicely broken into sections: Composers, Performers, Presenters, Biz, Newspaper Critics, Scholars and Independent Views. I scanned the list and found many blogs I already knew of, but also saw many that are new to me. So if you get tired of what's appearing in your RSS feed or are looking for some new sources on the subject of Classical music, take a look at Eatock's big list.

Satyagraha from the Met

The Metropolitan Opera's current revival of Philip Glass' Satyagraha was broadcast around the world on Saturday in their latest HD broadcast and if there's a more perfect opera for the relatively new medium I can't think of what it could be. The title is a Sanskrit word, roughly translating into "insistence on truth," or "truth force," and its seven scenes depict moments in the life of Mohandas Ghandi when he was developing his political/social philosophy in South Africa before returning to India. There isn't a "real" libretto- the words are passages from the Bhagavad Gita, more or less meant to provide a context to what's being portrayed onstage. Supertitles were kept to a minimum, used only to repeat the words shown sparingly on the stage's corrugated iron backdrop- again, mostly for context. There isn't really a plot- it's more a series of moving tableaux vivants and mise-en-scènes of a kind, based on incidents in Ghandi's life strung together for cumulative impact rather than narrative- and yet a narrative of "Satyagraha" unfolds throughout the almost four hour show (there are two intermissions) in an almost Aristotelian way as the final scene of the opera has Ghandi alone onstage against a backdrop of an actor miming Martin Luther King giving a speech. The visual power of this becomes a sort of meta-historical visual representation, as only a blind person could not notice that the tall, lean actor portraying King bears more than a striking physical resemblance to President Obama, even from behind.


Musically it suceeded on every level. Conductor Dante Anzolini led the orchestra through the complex and difficult score, creating a mesmerizing aural experience. The singers were somewhat amazing and I include the chorus in the compliment: the challenge of singing Glass's seemingly endless repeats is one thing- to perform it in Sanskrit is another thing altogether, and when you add in the additional theatrical component it's stunning what's being accomplished onstage by these performers. Vocally and visually, Richard Croft's Ghandi was a compelling presence all afternoon. Rachelle Durkin, who portrayed Ghandi's secretary, Miss Schlesen had an especially difficult assignment and handled it well; Maria Zifchak, as Ghandi's wife, had superb moments during the ensembles. Both Alfred Walker as Parsi Rustomji and Kim Josephson as Mr. Kallenbach were individually strong as Ghandi's colleagues. The scene where the chorus mocks Ghandi before attacking him was a triumph in its own right for everyone onstage.

But as good as the singing and performing were, the production really works because of the vision of its creators- director Phelim McDermott and associate director/designer Julian Crouch, the same team who created Shockheaded Peter. This team, along with the extraordinary Skills Ensemble, who are really as much a part of the cast as the chorus and singers, create scene after scene of compelling imagery and movement onstage that's as hypnotic to watch as Glass' score is to hear. It's really opera as it should be- a work of art with beautifully balanced dramatic and musical elements forming a single cohesive experience and in this case, a brilliant one.

Kudos to the Met and Peter Gelb not only for staging it in the first place, but for including it in the Met's broadcast schedule. 

Il Postino on Great Performances this weekend

This Friday, November 25th, Great Performances on PBS will be airing Daniel Catan's Il Postino. I was initially skeptical this opera was going to be any good, but once one favorable review after another started flowing in I went down to catch the last performance in L.A. and loved it. Placido Domingo stars as the Chilean poet Pablo Neruda. Charles Castronovo was magnificent in the title role. Rounding out the perfect cast are Christina Gallardo-Domás as Neruda's wife and Amanda Squitieri as Beatrice, the postman's love interest. The final duet between Domingo and Castronovo was one of the most memorable moments I've seen on an opera stage. You don't want to miss this. Check your local PBS stations for times and be sure to set your DVR to record it.

Brahms in a box

At 10:20 last night Isabella and I were standing at the corner of Larkin and O'Farrell waiting for the light to turn. We'd just passed two hookers in hot pants, one just barely shy of being a dwarf, the usual dealers, and a cheerful guy who wanted to chat me up in Spanish. I had been singing a song I just made up, based on something Isabella said to me while we were walking up Van Ness- "I have a bunch of gold stars in my box, and I need to pursue them," which struck me as the funniest thing I've heard in awhile. After imploring me to cease my serenade, Isabella looked at the marquee of the New Century Theater across the street.

"MILFs, Wagner, Beethoven, The Human Centipede....  you've exposed me to so much. It doesn't seem quite fair," she said.

"Oh, I believe it's a very equitable relationship," I replied, glancing at the marquee currently trumpeting the impending visit of "Lisa Ann- World's Hottest MILF!" on Thanksgiving weekend.

Her shows are at midnight and 2:00 AM. I wondered who'll be watching the kids? The world's hottest babysitter- BILF!

The linkage then came together. I asked, "Have you ever seen 'Dick in a box?'"

"Dick in a box?" she replied drolly, "Really?"

"You must see it."

She laughed.

"I'll show it to you!"  I exclaimed.

"Oh, I can't wait." 

Suddenly Davies Symphony Hall seemed miles away, even though only twenty minutes earlier we were sitting in the orchestra section, taking in an evening of German music. It wasn't supposed to be that way. Among the dozens of musical temptations offered during the San Francisco Symphony's Centennial Season was a world premiere by composer Sofia Gubaidulina. Unfortunately, illness got in the way and a few weeks ago it was announced her premiere would be replaced by Heinrich Schutz's "Ich bib ein rechter Weinstock" (composed circa 1648) and the original 1909 version of Arnold Schoenberg's "Five Pieces for Orchestra." Remaining from the original program was Brahms' German Requiem, which was no doubt the draw for many in the house, but for me the Gubaidulina was the lure and the Brahms was, well, just more Brahms. The program as it was performed was one I would have probably skipped, but I've learned over the years I'm often most pleased when I approach something without expectation and decided to go anyway. Besides, the Brahms featured the gorgeous soprano Jane Archibald, a former Merola participant and Adler fellow whose performances I have long admired. 

Jane Archibald. Photo by John Rennison.

The chorus filled the center terrace. There were no musicians onstage except the organist. SFS Chorus Director Ragnar Bohlin came to the podium and the organist hit a note. Four minutes of glorious singing followed and then came to an abrupt end.

"What was that?" Isabella asked.  

"An amuse bouche?"

"Why was the organist there?"

"What do you mean?"

"He only played one note."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. Didn't you notice?"

"No- did you notice that redhead?" I asked, pointing her out.

I received a pinch in the arm in response.

Then the orchestra came onstage, followed by Michael Tilson Thomas. The linchpins were all there- Mark Inouye, Carey Bell, Bill Bennett, Tim Day, Sasha Barantschik and Stephen Paulson. Only Michael Grebanier was missing, but the Peter Wyrick is always fine in the lead chair.

Schoenberg's five pieces last about sixteen minutes. In the first "piece" Bell looked like he was having a blast. There were some interesting, captivating sounds coming from the orchestra, but soon it became apparent I wasn't going to find a way into the whole. Judging by the ridiculous amount of people coughing I wasn't the only one. Captivating in parts, the entirety eluded me and my unfamiliarity with the work precludes me from judging it more than that. The brass, however, provided some absolutely magnificent blasts during the work that were incredibly exciting to hear. The best I can come up with is an ambivalent "it was interesting."

When the applause subsided I quietly leaned over to Isabella and asked what she thought.

"Interesting," she replied.

Behind her a woman proclaimed loudly not to have liked it "one bit."

During the intermission we spoke with some people who know the work who did enjoy it quite a bit. One, a scholar and composer, proclaimed it beautiful, though without color. And it may have been- beautiful, that is. As for color, that's in the eye of the beholder.

We returned to our seats for the Brahms and I was surprised to see many people had left. 

In the early years of the last decade I would often attend performances led by MTT of Beethoven's symphonies and leave feeling disappointed. At the time he seemed intent to interpret Beethoven from a Classical perspective, rather than from the Romantic (or Heroic)- as if Beethoven had never come out from Haydn's influence. They were lean, taut, bloodless performances which lept along briskly but never settled into the heart. It's a valid approach, but it wasn't to my taste.

Then MTT appeared to switch gears and delved back into more Romantic interpretations, which I suspect all the Mahler the orchestra performed during that decade had something to do with. I mention this because last night the Brahms sounded like we had stepped back in time ten years to that era where the lean and taut was favored over the sanguine and romantic. This would have been fine for a shorter work, but it wasn't long into the hour-plus piece I found myself longing for some orchestral blood. The chorus delivered plenty- they were on fire last night, as they were in last month's version by Verdi, though their Italian was more clearly enunicated than their German, which doesn't make a lot of sense but there you have it. But the orchestra smoothed out the peaks and valleys of the work in favor of something much more pastoral. Depsite the thrilling beauty of the chorus, overall the result felt tepid. It was Brahms in a box.

Kyle Ketelsen. Photo by Dario Acosta.

The lovely Archibald sounded fine, though she had a tendency to snap off the end of her lines rather than let them float. The evening's most pleasant surprise was the Symphony debut of baritone Kyle Ketelsen, whose large solid voice impressed me from the first note and on. I hope we get to see him across the street at the War Memorial again some time soon (he was cast as Carmen's Escamillo in '06-07- thanks Patrick!).  He's also, for those who care about such things, a definite contender for barihunk status- in fact, it would be a great idea for him and Nathan Gunn to do an operatic version of- oh never mind, I don't know if the opera world is quite ready for that.

The Brussels Affair

If you haven't noticed yet, the hype machine is starting to rev pretty high in anticipation of the Rolling Stones' 50th anniversary, which is next year. Keith, Ron and Charlie are getting together in London at the end of this month "to jam" a little bit as Keith put it- a sure sign that a tour is going to take place, even if no one will confirm it just yet. Next week the re-release of Some Girls comes out in a deluxe addition featuring 12 extra songs, as does a DVD of the 1978 Forth Worth show.

Google just launched their own music service with an MP3 release of the band's Brussels concert from 1973, available for $4.99, the first in a "Rolling Stones Bootleg Series." Surely there's going to be a lot more to come. I like to think I'm immune to this kind of machinery, but I find myself succumbing to it with pleasure- perhaps because the Stones really are the world's greatest rock and roll band.

An afternoon of epic Shostakovich

Alexander Melnikov. Photo by Mario Borggreve

Russian pianist Alexander Melnikov made his impressive local debut this afternoon in the concert hall of the San Francisco Conservatory of Music with an epic performance of Shostakovich's 24 Preludes and Fugues. The ambitious program, rarely performed live, unfolded over three hours that grew more interesting and engaging as it progressed. That's a pretty tough assignment for one man at a piano to pull off, and though I wouldn't say Melnikov didn't break a sweat, his performance projected confidence and mastery from start to finish.

To watch Melnikov perform is to see an artist deeply engaged with their work. Neither flashy nor detached, he just seems fully engaged. At times he would lift a free hand into the air and move it in a fluid motion akin to that of a conductor, though I couldn't tell if he was communicating with the score or the piano (the piano, by the way, seemed to have something wrong with it- strange little sounds emanated from it once in awhile throughout the performance). It wasn't overdone, or dramatic, but appeared an organic part of how he interprets a piece.

The concert was broken into three parts, the first of which were the first twelve preludes and fugues (each piece contains a prelude followed by a fugue based upon it, the model of course being Bach's The Well-Tempered Clavier ). The variety Shostakovich brought to these is just short of astonishing, more so given that they were written in a relatively brief time span. These don't sound like mid-20th Century pieces- they hearken back to Bach, Chopin and contain heavy elements of the Romantic, yet they never reek of the museum and only rarely touch down directly on an earlier influence. They sound timeless.

After the second intermission Melnikov sat down at the bench and went straight into the 17th piece, which was the only one to distinctly call to mind another composer's work, and it was Albeniz of all people. By the time he got to the 20th, the herculean nature of the program started to take its toll and Melnikov had to stop for a moment and shake out his limbs before resuming the performance. It was the only time he did so all afternoon. The rest of the time he just bent to the task at hand, giving a special physical flourish to the final piece, the largest and most expansive, which was truly mesmerizing.

It was all so simple in its way, but in that simplicity was easily one of the best performances I've seen this year.

I'd also like to acknowledge the superb program notes by Eric Bromberger, which illuminated each piece with precision and clarity, greatly adding to overall enjoyment of the concert- a comment I heard from more than a few in the audience.

The concert was presented by San Francisco Performances, who will bring him back in May to perform with his regular collaborator Isabelle Faust in a program of Beethoven sonatas including the Kreutzer. Don't miss it.

Nadine Sierra at the Rex

Nadine Sierra. Photo by Kenneth Edwards/The Uptempo Magazine

Upon entering the room at the rear of the first floor of the Hotel Rex where San Francisco Performances holds its Salon series, I saw Axel and the Opera Tattler seated up front.  I thought about joining them and decided to take a seat on the banquette in the middle of the room instead. I didn't want to get blown out.

I scanned the crowd. Some familiar faces, and a decent contingent of younger ones. A woman stood in front of the audience and began introducing the performers, soprano Nadine Sierra and her accompanist Tamara Sanikidze, both current Adler Fellows with San Francisco Opera, who stood in the doorway at the rear of the room. I glanced over and saw Sierra yawn just before walking into the room- a moment that struck me as funny but also caused a flash of apprehension to dart through my mind.

It proved needless- the twenty-three year old Sierra strode into the room looking quite glamorous and proceeded to charm the audience for the next hour and fifteen minutes with a selection of arias and show tunes showcasing her formidable talents. Sanikidze proved to be a charmer too, offering some humorous anecdotes and a sharp wit as well as providing solid accompaniment at the piano.

The format for these salons allow the performer to engage with the audience at an intimate level. Sierra introduced each song and explained how it came into her repertoire or what it meant to her personally. She covered a wide swath of material, beginning with "Juliette's Waltz" from Gounod's Romeo et Juliette. Switching gears, the aria was followed by Gershwin's "Summertime" and Arlen's "A Sleeping Bee." I found the Arlen tune to be a better fit for her voice, which truly soared when she slowed down during the second verse of the "Vilja Song" from Lehar's Merry Widow.


She shifted to German with surprising ease for Grieg's "Ein Traum" and back again to English for Foster's "Beautiful Dreamer," which Stephanie Blythe also performed in her recital last month. Sierra then got a bit naughty for a song in Portuguese, "Engenho Novo"- which she delivered with impressive speed and a healthy dollop of flirtiness. It made me want to hear her take on some Rossini.

Puccini's "O mio babbino caro" was the final song, until Sanikidze pulled out Poulenc's "Les chemins de l'amour" for an encore requested by an audience member during a Q & A concluding the performance.

Sierra, whose turn in "Heart of a Soldier" was one of the few bright spots in an otherwise dismal opera, seems an almost preternaturally gifted singer. This was the third time I've heard her and she's impressed me on each occasion. Add her engaging persona and good looks to the mix and it's a safe bet to say we are going to be hearing a lot more from her in the years ahead.

While another mugging took place across town, I was having dinner with an artist...

Two evenings prior to the opening of her show at the McLoughlin Gallery last week, I was having dinner with Christy Lee Rogers and her companion. After we left the restaurant and I was escorting them back to their hotel,  we spoke of the lovely weather of this particular evening and what a pleasant rarity it was, among other things.  It was only later I discovered that while we were seated at dinner, the Femme Fatale was busy enacting a vicious mugging of Penelope. The perverse nature of the revulsive attack, and its aftermath, brings the long-running subplot of the bizarre love tetrahedron to an ugly denouement, both here and in reality. I write of it only to tie the final knot in the thread.

Now, back to dinner.

Christy and I have maintained a loose correspondence since we first met a couple of years ago in Los Angeles and this  was our first chance to have an extended conversation, which took place over Thai food at Ler Ros. When I first saw Christy's Sirens collection I was deeply moved by the beauty and mystery of the images, so it took me a little by surprise to discover the artist behind them was an open, warm and engaging personality. For some reason I expected her to be more elusive, guarded perhaps, about who she is and how she approached her art. She was neither, and during dinner we had a long, revealing conversation, touching down in numerous places.

Add caption

Two nights later I went to the opening of the show, which coincided with the monthly First Thursday Art walk. There were plenty of people about the entrance of 49 Geary and milling through the corridors of the building, which contains seventeen or eighteen different galleries, but soon I entered owner Joan McLoughlin's warm, well-lighted space, and saw Christy standing in front of the triptych Sackcloth and Ashes, talking with a couple of people while others stood around apparently eavesdropping. I espied her companion, went over to say hello and he led me through the exhibit, entitled "Odyssey," which makes sense as the palette of her work has expanded beyond Sirens to include images with more color, male subjects, subjects whose gender is hard to determine, and the one in Battle of the Flesh looks an otherworldly feline.

Battle of the Flesh

Her new work presses further into ambiguous territory while looking back with deliberation toward the Renaissance in its use of color and depiction of cloth, though the view is submerged underwater and seen with a contemporary eye. Though she claims it was just a fortuitous result, the green spectre haunting the subject of Innocence evokes an infralapsarian nightmare.

Innocence

Also on exhibit in the gallery is the delirious work of Dalia Nosratabadi, a globe-trotting Iranian woman who lives in Belgium. Her images are also created from water- in this case reflections viewed in puddles, which she photographs and then turns upside down to creating a disorienting vision of the world that's recognizable yet looks like a parallel universe. The exhibit is called Eau La La!, which nicely captures its energy and sense of playfulness.  Imagine Narcissus, armed with a passport and a camera, found the world reflected around him a much more interesting subject. Dalia, her husband, and their baby were present and I asked if she was doing any local shooting while she was here. She hadn't yet found any satisfactory puddles, so I suggested some corners downtown where she might have some luck. I would love to see what she could create here. The exhibit contains large digital images she's shot around the globe- it's compelling work that really captures the energy, confusion, and chaos of urban life.

1010 Xiang Hao

Viewed together in one space, the work of these two artists creates an irresistible juxtaposition- Joan McLoughlin has a keen eye. You can see for yourself until December 3rd.

Bend Over Times Square

Afterwards, we headed off for another meal and conversation, this time to Morac, where I found myself stimulated by the conversation taking place, the incongruous blonde Sirens floating through the room, and the décolletage of one in particular. Thankfully, no one was mugged that night, but crime season is now over- there's no one left to victimize.

First Marc-André Hamelin is mugged, then it's my turn

Marc-André Hamelin  Photo by Fran Kaufman

Sometimes things just don't go as planned. Last Wednesday night I walked over to the Herbst Theater, where San Francisco Performances was presenting a recital by Marc-André Hamelin- the pianist and composer has received an enormous amount of positive press during his current tour and I'd never seen perform before. I was a bit surprised the house wasn't full- he's performed here many times and few rival his reputation. Besides that, the program was especially inviting- the Berg and Liszt sonatas, to be followed by five of Hamelin's own compositions: the world premiere of Theme Variations (Cathy's Theme); his take on Variations of a Theme of Paganini, and three Etudes, including one based on Erlkonig, which I was especially interested to hear.

I took my seat inside the sweltering theater just a few minutes before the concert was to begin, in between two elderly ladies who seemed surprised by my arrival. For some reason it took Hamelin some extra time to take the stage and I sensed a slight tension build in the audience while we waited. Hamelin appeared, faced us, and after a curt bow, took to the bench and began the Berg.

Playing the formidable work sans score, I was immediately struck by the cool precision of Hamelin's approach. It's a daunting piece, but you would have never known it watching Hamelin, who worked his way through the development as if it were the most stable music ever written. It was an entirely different approach than the last time I'd heard it performed, when Yefim Bronfman tackled it like a loose, baggy monster. I'll admit to being  puzzled by the approach, unnerved even, but I admired the technical virtuosity of the performance.

Hamelin approached the Liszt in the same manner, ridding the piece of the bombast with which most pianists seem determined to give it and again performed with an almost surgical precision. In the beginning movement I found this fascinating, but soon afterward I was disengaging from the performance- it was as if I was hearing it dissected note-by-note, even during the most furiously fast moments where the piece seems like it's about to explode. There were moments of stark beauty in this and the consistent clarity of Hamelin's playing impressed me greatly, but in the end it felt dispassionate- too intellectualized to my ears- as if the piece had been deliberately bled to within an inch of its life.

At the conclusion something very strange happened. Hamelin held his hand aloft over the keys, to let the final note resonate and someone in the balcony began to applaud loudly, clapping twice, perhaps three times, then suddenly stopped as if they noticed no one else was and they had broken decorum. Hamelin continued to hold his hand over the keyboard and then the person in the balcony started applauding again, very aggressively, as if to confront the pianist. Finally Hamelin dropped his hand and the entire audience began to enthusiastically applaud, but I felt like I had just watched a performer get mugged onstage. I have no other way to explain it, but it was quite disconcerting.

At intermission I stepped outside to get some air and the evening was interrupted by a bomb going off in my hand in the form of a phone call I took while standing there in cool air. Sadly, I never made it back for the second half of the performance, thus marking the night with successive muggings taking place onstage and off. In speaking later with someone who attended the entire performance and greatly enjoyed it (whose opinion I always respect, even when it differs from my own), the second half went very well. I'm sorry to have missed it and am on my way to a full recovery.

A Hero is born: The Met's Siegfried

On the Intro page of Jay Hunter Morris' website he writes:

"... I don't have one of those voices, ya know, where I can just open up and be glorious. But I am stubborn and persistent and one of these days just maybe I will ... for me, there probably won't be some big break, some new production or role... that just brings it all together and I'll be a great tenor and in great demand and will possess a flawless technique and I will behave properly and have panache and be clever and artsy and thin and everyone will love me."

JMo, you may want to consider rewriting that page because I think all that's just changed for you, thanks to yesterday's Met Opera Broadcast of Siegfried. 

I was in the house (front row) for Morris's debut in the role at San Francisco Opera back in May. I liked the performance, especially his presence, but felt his voice lacked the necessary heft to truly own it. Furthermore, he was overshadowed by David Cangelosi's strong turn as Mime and undermined by Francesca Zambello's scatter shot direction. Still, Morris gave a memorable performance and I heard he got stronger as the run progressed.

Now, six months later he's living "a star is born" moment as the last-minute replacement for Gary Lehman (a replacement for Ben Heppner), who fell ill during late rehearsals. Morris was his understudy and just like in the movies, got his big break. And he killed it.

From the house my friend Brian tweeted to me that Morris still sounds "a tad underpowered," but in theaters across the world where the performance was shown to tens of thousands of people, he was simply fantastic on every level, giving new life to a Ring Cycle which had seemed somewhat adrift until now. Morris' presence, coupled with conductor Fabio Luisi's magnificent, transparent account of the music, seemed to ignite the entire cast to a heightened level of execution, easily making this the best part of director Robert LePage's Ring so far.

At least that's how it came across in the theater, where the perfect sound mix and well-executed camera angles greatly influence one's perception of what's actually taking place live in Lincoln Center, not to mention all of the backstage action shown to the audience- which also influences our perception- especially when you have someone as likable offstage as they are on it, such as Morris, who came across as one of the nicest guys in the world during the intermission segments. Yes, it's manipulative and designed to sell the Met and its performers to the audience, and yesterday it all worked exceedingly well. The only thing I'd like to quibble about is the camera lens they used for Renee Fleming's introduction, which wasn't very flattering to her.

As for the show itself, LePage's vision for the cycle has a confidence in Siegfried I found lacking in Walkure and Rheingold. The monolithic "Machine" doesn't distract from what's taking place onstage (the noise it makes was only noticeable in the first act and wasn't a serious intrusion), but finally works to serve the entire work and not just create set pieces. The use of it in the third act when Siegfried goes through the fire was a superb use of it, though I'm not sure Morris' stumble was choreographed. The opening video work by Pedro Pies was gorgeous, creating a vivid tableaux both mysterious and alluring.

Gerhard Siegel's Mime was well-acted, but more importantly, beautifully sung. He doesn't fall into the common habit of accompanying Mime's unattractive physical and personal qualities with a whining tone, as is often the case. Siegel sang Mime as if he himself were Siegfried, making the character more complex. While his interpretation doesn't make Mime sympathetic (which even if it was desired would likely be impossible), Siegel makes him interesting and for once, a pleasure to hear.

Morris was born to be on a movie screen- his good looks only added to his superb vocal and physical performance. There's nothing really likable about the character of Siegfried- he's a violent, insolent, self-absorbed teenager- an unpleasant hero if there ever was one. While few can sing the role, fewer still can make him truly a sympathetic hero onstage. Morris can do both- and does, giving Wagner's brat truly heroic dimensions and depth- especially in the second act. Amazingly, he seemed to gather strength as the afternoon progressed and it was only toward the very end, when he had to go up against the freshly awoken Brunnhilde, that anything resembling fatigue became evident in his voice. Still, it didn't effect his sound, which remained clear and bright- but his volume seemed to diminish slightly against Voigt's formidable strength. It's going to be difficult for anyone who saw this to think of someone better for the role. It's your now, JMo- run with it.

For the first time in the cycle I really enjoyed Bryn Terfel's Wotan/Wander. Looking like Rick Wakeman, Terfel's presence in Siegfried is infused with resigned authority. He possesses a confidence with the character at this junction I couldn't see in Rheingold or Walkure, which diminished the impact of his vocals in the earlier segments. The voice, as could be expected, was marvelous, but it was his characterization which left the biggest impact. His best moments came in the third act, where he gave powerful depth to Wotan's moment of doubt. For just a moment, Wotan seemed like he was about to refuse to yield to the future he himself created. His costume also served him to much greater effect here than it did in the earlier opera.

Speaking of costumes, Deborah Voigt looked radiant and visually the pairing of her with Morris turned out to be serendipitous to the production- they truly looked like they belong together. In fact they should have been placed closer together onstage- at points they seemed too far away from one another. Vocally, she impressed again and her greeting of the sun upon awakening was one of the most beautiful moments I've heard from her.

The rest of the cast were also strong- in fact everyone was "on" for this particular performance. Though Eric Owens' Alberich didn't have the ferocity he displayed in Rheingold, that only reflects the story arc, as Alberich is now a diminished presence, even if there's nothing diminished about the strength and power of Owens' formidable voice. Mojca Erdmann's Forest Bird was pleasing but with the character's presence represented by an animated bird (which didn't look great on the screen), it didn't create much of an impact. Neither did Hans-Peter Konigs turn as Fafner, at least until we got to watch him die, because the dragon was the only misfire of the entire production- essentially an inflatable snake, it looked wholly out of place and from an entirely different show- as if its creation was an afterthought. Patrica Bardon's Erda was well sung, but the interpretation of Erda in this Ring continues to confuse me- what exactly is she supposed to be? Her scene with Wotan makes no sense as staged here.

Finally, James Levine's absence from the podium isn't going to hurt this Ring in the least if yesterday was a hint of what's to come. Though Luisi's conducting felt restrained at times, he clearly was leading the orchestra in service to the singers and the score. The result was a transparency which revealed leitmotifs I've never noticed before and taken as a whole, the orchestra's performance was a major contribution to the success of yesterday's performance.

Encore dates for the screening have not been announced as of today.

The Odyssey of Christy Lee Rogers

Rapture

I first encountered the stunning photography of Christy Lee Rogers during the Spring Street Art Walk in L.A. a couple of years ago. She was showing her "Sirens" collection- massive ethereal photographs of women taken underwater, they were beautifully alluring and faintly terrifying at the same time. Sirens indeed, they drew a tremendous crowd of admirers and now Rogers' work is presented in eight galleries worldwide.

Sackcloth and Ashes (Middle Panel)

This month San Francisco finally gets to see her work- a moment I've been waiting for ever since that night in L.A., when the McLoughlin Gallery presents her new collection "Odyssey" this month, beginning Thursday, November 3rd. The panel above is from a triptych titled Sackcloth and Ashes, which promises to be one of the highlights of the show.

The Swan

With light refraction as the technical foundation of her work, Rogers utilizes the phenomenon of light as it passes from the air, which has a lower optical density, into water, with a higher optical density, to capture in-camera images, without post-production manipulation.

Upon the Cheek of Night

Resembling Baroque paintings from another dimension, she's mastered the use of lighting to create beautiful chiaroscuro images.

Ascencion

Rogers, who splits her time between Hawaii (where she was born) and Los Angeles, will be in attendance on the opening night.The gallery is at 49 Geary St., open 10:30-6:00, Tues- Sat.

Go ahead- load the gun and shoot yourself in the foot...

I rarely discuss politics here, but I received three emails this morning that set off something of a syllogistic bomb inside my head, leaving me feeling like Howard Beale in Network. But I want to scream at the people who are supposedly on the "good" side.

The first was from MoveOn.org, encouraging me to close my bank account and give my business to a credit union or small bank. So I guess the tellers in those bank branches, who make about 24K at best a year, will easily find new work... exactly where? And what about the support staff for those banks- not the fat cats who make large six and seven-figure incomes, but the vast majority of the employees who make well under six figures.. and they will work... where? Many of those people have already lost jobs and more of them are being quietly relocated to India every week. Is MoveOn hiring? I certainly hope so.

Next I received an email from CaribelinQ News detailing Occupy Oakland's call for a general strike intended to shut down the City of Oakland. For the record, 1607 people were present to vote. 1484 voted in favor, 47 against, and 77 abstaining, thus passing at 92.3%.

Here is the proposal, as sent by CaribelinQ:

We as fellow occupiers of Oscar Grant Plaza propose that on Wednesday November 2, 2011, we liberate Oakland and shut down the 1%.

We propose a city wide general strike and we propose we invite all students to walk out of school. Instead of workers going to work and students going to school, the people will converge on downtown Oakland to shut down the city.

All banks and corporations should close down for the day or we will march on them.

While we are calling for a general strike, we are also calling for much more. People who organize out of their neighborhoods, schools, community organizations, affinity groups, workplaces and families are encouraged to self organize in a way that allows them to participate in shutting down the city in whatever manner they are comfortable with and capable of.

The whole world is watching Oakland. Let’s show them what is possible.

The Strike Coordinating Council will begin meeting everyday at 5pm in Oscar Grant Plaza before the daily General Assembly at 7pm. All strike participants are invited. Stay tuned for much more information and see you next Wednesday.

Hello, Occupy Oakland! Please explain how keeping kids out of school will shut down the 1% and be of benefit to the 99%? Please explain how marching on banks in Oakland (not exactly an affluent community) will help those people who live and work in that city (including those not-very-highly-paid people working in branches- Oakland is not exactly the financial hub of the Bay Area, much less anywhere else)?

Because moving your bank account and walking out of school to go sit in a park for the day is not going to make one bit of difference to the 1%. They won't hear you. They won't even care. You barely register within their field of vision and you can bet they will be going to work and their kids will be going to school that day and nothing in their world will be impacted in the least by your strike. These are two different realities and they only collide in retail establishments.You want some evidence?

Below is the content of the third email, a corporate communication from a bank sent to all of their employees today with the headline New brand boosts services for the most affluent:

[Big Bank X]  is combining the [two] businesses into a newly branded boutique firm providing increased services to individuals and families with $50 million or more in assets. Known as [New Brand for the Most Affluent], a [Big Bank X] Business, the brand debuts in April 2012.

The new firm is named after the New Hampshire company that built [Big Bank X]'s iconic [noun used as commercial symbol by Big Bank X] in the 19th Century. That company was known worldwide for its ingenuity, high-quality craftsmanship, and providing a distinctive customer experience.

J__ S______, head of [New Brand for the Most Affluent}, said, "We take pride in the values on which [New Brand for the Most Affluent] was founded, and we will use the name to reflect the tailored solutions, high-touch service, and attention to detail our clients expect. We focus not only on traditional wealth planning, but also on human dimensions, such as family legacy, governance, leadership transition, family education, and risk management."

Other [New Brand for the Most Affluent] services include asset management, private banking, charitable giving, tax and estate planning, and trust and fiduciary services. Many of the group's client relationships date back several generations.

The business, which is part of Wealth, Brokerage and Retirement, has $27.5 billion in client assets and 300 team members in offices across the U.S. [New Brand for the Most Affluent] seeks to increase [Big Bank X]'s  business with the 10,000 U.S. households having $50 million or more in investable assets; collectively, they hold more than $1 trillion in wealth.

"If you think about the instances when great fortunes are realized, frequently [Big Bank X]'s  is at the table advising business owners," said D____ C_____, head of Wealth, Brokerage and Retirement. "Many of these households have relationships with Wholesale, Business Banking, or the Community Bank, and we look forward to working with our business partners across [Big Bank X] to explore how we might better serve those customers."

Class dismissed. Now go scream out the window, and stop listening to people who only want to hand you a gun and watch you shoot yourself in the foot- they won't be there to help you after you're unemployed or competing for a job against the kid who stayed in school that day.

Wake up. This is not how to do this.