The Best of A Beast: 2012

Napoleon.

It's been quite a year.

If you've read this blog steadily over the last four years, and especially between the lines, I imagine you can't help but notice that this was the year when people and things started disappearing. Penelope, the Femme Fatale, Isabella, the Manhattans, most of the known associates,The Little Chinese Man, and the frequency of posts- where did they go? I've decided not to reveal all of the reasons behind this just yet, but eventually I probably will when I feel enough distance exists. Amidst all of this carnage (and believe me, it was carnage), I didn't even get around to writing posts about two performances listed below, and really didn't do the justice I intended to a third. Having spent most of the last twelve months changing some things and attempting to right others, I can only tell you it is my full intention to remedy this in the new year.

Looking back, it was also a different year for what made the list. Opera, which was nearly absent last time, came back to dominate this year's model, and even though my Number 1 isn't an opera it truly felt like one, so add one more for a total of six of the ten slots being taken by operas.  It was also a good year for Cal Performances, which presented three of the top ten performances and three of the honorable mentions. San Francisco Opera returned to the list after being absent last year, thank goodness, because let's face it- there is nothing better than opera and when SFO is putting junk on the stage life becomes a bit dull. However, it wasn't a great year for theater- at least the theater I saw, though there were some good things going on at Berkeley Rep which got honorable mentions.

I also saw fewer recitals, attended less dance, films, pop, and jazz performances and little of what I did attend in these areas impressed me this year, so there hasn't been much mention of these.  It's not that I'm getting lazy, at least I hope it's not that, but this has been a year of change and transition and I needed to take some time away from attending performances and writing about them to actually sort some things out. So without any further blather on my part, though  reserving my right to elaborate further on any or all of the items mentioned above or below at a future time, here are the best performances I experienced as an audience member during the last year:

1. Napoleon
Rarely, if ever, have I had the pleasure of experiencing something so completely immersing and engaging on every level of artistry. Abel Gance's 5 and 1/2 hour silent film from 1927  is more than a masterpiece- it's visionary, epic in the truest sense of the word, and fascinates from beginning to end. But the experience was really made sublime by the accompanying performance of the Oakland East bay Orchestra under the baton of Carl Davis conducting his own heroic score. To experience it all inside the exquisitely restored art deco Paramount Theatre was just icing on the cake. This not only lived up to the "once in lifetime" hype- it exceeded it by every measure. I really regret not writing a post about this- maybe one day.

2. Nixon in China
Nixon was the best thing San Francisco Opera has put on the stage of the War Memorial since The Makropulos Affair, and easily stands as the highlight of David Gockley's (who commissioned the John Adams work while he was with the Houston Opera) tenure. Superb casting and a production which really brought the opera's nuances to the fore made for one of the most compelling experiences I've experienced in the house. I was lucky to see it twice during the run, and could have easily enjoyed a third viewing. I regret never going back to write about this in-depth because there is so much to say about it, especially the third act, which many observers seemed to view as a throw-away, but I felt was the heart and soul of the work, a beautifully executed denouement where the main characters gather and internally ask themselves "What do we now after we've changed the world?" and can only respond with "What is left to do?"

3. Certitude and Joy
Erling Wold's chamber opera based on the real events surrounding a woman who sacrificed her own children to God by drowning them in the San Francisco Bay stuck in my head for weeks afterward. Wold's compelling score, played by the recently Grammy-nominated Zofo Duet and the earnest commitment of everyone on the small stage to make this work created something which deeply moved me. I'll never forget how I felt when it ended.

4. Esa-Pekka Salonen and the Philharmonia Orchestra's Mahler's 9th
As I mentioned in the original post, this performance brought me to tears. Thinking about its effect still makes my eyes swell.

5. Einstein on the Beach
Cal Performances was instrumental in making this revival of the original production happen and as promised, it was something every opera fan should have seen. Like Napoleon, Einstein lived up to the hype. How lucky are we in the Bay Area to live in a place where not one, but two rarely experienced major works of art appear on local stages in the same year?

6. Lohengrin (no post)
If only every production offered by San Francisco Opera were this good. Brandon Jovanovich was perfect in the title role, with an excellent supporting cast, a thoughtful production, and extraordinary conducting from Luisotti as he popped his Wagner cherry. Magnificent on every level- the company should be quite proud of it.

7. Esa-Pekka Salonen and the Philharmonia Orchestra's Wozzeck
Had this been a fully staged production and taken place at the War Memorial Opera House it would have easily been number two on this list.

8. Joyce DiDonato and the Alexander String Quartet: Camille Claudel: Into the Fire
While I admired Jake Heggie and Gene Scheer's Moby Dick in its San Francisco debut this past fall, I ultimately felt the second act didn't live up to the artistic level and expectations created in its first. It left me wondering what the team could have done with more time to work on the opera, which felt like it was lacking something at its core. On the other hand, this smaller scale work arrived onstage so fully realized in its conception and execution it made me yearn for a larger, full-blown opera to be developed from the material. DiDonato just had what was probably the best year of her career (so far) and in retrospect this concert performance seemed like a harbinger for what was to follow.

9. Christian Tetzlaff and the San Francisco Symphony
The epitome of a rock star performance by a classical musician, and a perfect combination of piece and performer.

10. The San Francisco Symphony's American Mavericks Festival
Last season's Centennial celebration by the San Francisco Symphony had no shortage of highlights, but the return of the American Mavericks festival highlighted so many elements of what makes this organization and orchestra under Michael Tilson Thomas so great. Not every moment worked, but the sum of every concert worked extremely well, with each featuring at least one truly memorable and exciting performance, often much more. Criticized by some for not being mavericky enough in its programming, those who actually attended were thrilled to be a part of it- I certainly was, and the next version can't arrive soon enough.

Honorable mentions (in no particular order): An Iliad, Keith Jarrett, Ojai North!, Nameless Forest, You Killed Hamlet, The Mariinsky Ballet and Orchestra, Hilary Hahn, and Khatia Buniashvili's dress.

On a personal note, I want to thank Isabella- for everything you've given both from a distance and up close. Thank you Sheila, for being a wonderful listener in many ways. And thank you Thaïs, for killing the Femme Fatale and in doing so forcing me to figure out what's next.

And finally, I'd like to thank you, whoever you are, for reading this. See you next year.

Chamber music with Fima and SFS musicians

Once in awhile I'll attend a concert, thoroughly enjoy it, and find that I have little to say about it beyond "yeah, that was really good (or great, or [even] wonderful)." I'm not alone here- Patrick and I have discussed this at length, and thankfully it doesn't happen to me very often. However,  I felt this way about what will end up being the last performance I'll have attended this year- an excellent chamber music concert featuring Yefim Bronfman and ten members of the San Francisco Symphony.

I don't regularly attend these concerts because it feels unnatural to me to sit in a theater or auditorium in the middle of the afternoon, unless it's raining or something. And when it's raining, and I'm looking for something to do indoors, I typically think about going to the movies, because the chamber music series isn't regularly scheduled for every Sunday afternoon. One must pay attention, or make arrangements in advance. I know I miss out on a lot of good stuff with this attitude, including the longstanding Saturday morning performances of the Alexander String Quartet and SF Opera's Tosca and Rigoletto this year, but it has to be someone or something I really want to hear to make me want to take that seat on a Sunday afternoon. Something rare, or something special. That was the case a couple of weeks ago for this particular concert because of Bronfman's presence- I've mentioned before he's my favorite pianist- and I was all the more intrigued to hear him because the Emperor he'd performed a couple of nights before with the orchestra wasn't bad but it certainly wasn't a highlight of the season, or even of that particular concert.

That Sunday I arrived at the hall late, barely making it into my seat on time, on what turned out to be an unexpectedly nice day, because I had been arguing with a horrid and dreadful woman, which was to be expected because it seems she and I can't not argue on a Sunday morning. Some people go to church. We go at each other. Thankfully that weekend seemed to be the last of the Sunday morning arguments (as of this writing). But I've digressed. Walking into the hall, I was pleased to see the orchestra section nearly full, and a couple of familiar faces in the audience, one of whom went on to provide a much more detailed account of the music than what you're going to get here.

The first selection of the afternoon was John Harbison's Twilight Music- a trio for horn, violin and piano. Maybe it's just because I'm paying more attention in light of the local performance earlier this year of his opera The Great Gatsby, but it seems to me we've seen Harbison on a lot more programs than usual this year, which is all to the good. Twilight Music, written in 1984, has four movements. In the program notes for the piece Harbison is quoted from a few years earlier talking about intervallic this and that, which makes sense if you want to listen music that way, but I usually don't (click here to listen to the piece performed by the Chicago Chamber Musicians in 1993). But two elements really drew me into the piece: first, Harbison's writing for the piano here is pretty much straight ahead jazz, and it was fascinating to hear Marc Shapiro weave this element seamlessly into a classically dressed costume; the second point of interest was Nicole Cash and her horn.

Cash joined the orchestra in 2009 as associate principal after a few years with the Dallas Symphony. She always piques my interest when I see her onstage (she's a very attractive woman) but I had yet to hear her solo for an any extended period of time. She drew a range of sounds from her instrument I didn't even know were possible, and between her wonderful playing and Shapiro's excellent jazz performance, poor Dan Carlson on the violin seemed almost like an afterthought in the mix, as I found myself paying little attention to that part. At the end of the fourth movement's Adagio a two note motive faded away to create one of the most gorgeous conclusions I've heard all year.

Next came the trio of Yukiko Kurakata on violin, Sebastien Gingras on cello, and Katie Kadarauch on viola to perform Ernst von Dohnányi’s Serenade in C major. The entire five movement work was charming, but I was especially impressed with the Romanza, which reminded me of a late Beethoven quartet, possibly Op. 130, and the exuberant Rondo of the finale. I have to admit to also being distracted by Kadarauch, who was a stunning figure onstage in her red chiffon, halter-top gown.

Both of these performances were satisfying to the extreme, but the main event followed the intermission when Bronfman strode onstage with Nadya Tichman, Dan Smiley, Jonathan Vinocour, and Amos Yang to perform Brahms' Piano Quintet in F Minor. Bronfman blended seamlessly into the group of the orchestra's top tier musicians, neither dominating nor holding back in anyway, but rather through his own forceful performance engaged the other players and the entire ensemble gave an indelible performance, completely erasing the mediocre taste left by the Emperor a few nights before.

Black Friday

I wouldn't normally use this blog to comment about events like today's, but these deaths have deeply saddened me. Little kids in an elementary school were killed. That can't be rationalized in any way. There is no way to make this an "acceptable fact" of everyday life, like we try to do for unexpected accidents and misfortunes.

Because it didn't have to happen.

There is something seriously wrong in a society where people's lives are potentially at risk when they go to school, attend a popular movie, or go Christmas shopping, because the gun lobby and some misinformed enthusiasts of the Constitution insist it is the right of Americans to to own guns. It is not.

The Second Amendment reads "A well regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed." Period. The end.

An individual with a gun or a rifle is not a militia, and a country that cannot protect its citizens from the kind of senseless violence that happened today is neither secure nor free. It is a state held hostage to fear.

It should be the right of every American to be able to go to school, see a movie, or go Christmas shopping and not be murdered in the course of pursuing everyday life, liberty and happiness. And for those in the "guns don't kill people, people kill people" camp, sure- okay. Let's assume that's true. But people armed with guns kill people much easier and in greater numbers than they do using any other method.

And the fact is, it's going to be easier to control the distribution and availability of guns than it is to anticipate the actions of an insane person bent on murdering as many people as possible. And since we can't take the guns away from just the crazy people, the American way to do this- the right way to do this-  is to take the guns away from everyone.

And the time to do it was a long time ago. If you don't think that's fair, that that is somehow un-American, tell that to one of the parents whose child was killed today. Please explain to them how it is more important that America be able to arm itself than it is to expect that its children will return home safely after a day at elementary school.

My deepest condolences to the families of the victims, and for the community of Newtown.

Pandora steals the show from the Emperor

Mark Volkert. Photo by Kristen Loken.

Thaïs had one of those nagging little coughs that usually annoy me when I hear it coming from someone else. Another person seated close to us smelled pleasantly like soap. I was sitting next to a woman I've seen many times before and I wanted to introduce myself, but the proper moment never arrived. 

"Strauss is for old people. I don't like him. It's all 'boom boom bum bum,'" she whispered to me as Michael Tilson Thomas walked across the stage to the podium. 

That was fine. We weren't really there to hear the Strauss, but it turned out to be a fine performance of Till Eulenspiegel's Merry Pranks- one of the composer's tone poems which are beginning to appeal to me much more than they did when I was a younger person. I've become one of the old people, I guess. So is she, but since she's in denial about that I didn't bother to ask her what she thought of it. Till's march to the gallows reminded me of various points of discord in our relationship- after a bunch of pranks, boom booms signal the end is near, a head will roll, and some happy music brings it all to close, right back where it began. Applaud. 

What came next was the world premiere of Mark Volkert's Pandora, a 20 minute piece for string orchestra written by the San Francisco Symphony's longest-serving musician (an astonishing 40 years) and Associate Concertmaster. Volkert certainly doesn't look old enough for that first title, but he joined the orchestra at age 21. That long history has served him well in orchestrating his latest work- an engaging, accessible, yet challenging piece that should be performed by other, adventurous chamber orchestras. A different fate for Pandora would be an injustice and missed opportunity. I hope Nadja Salerno-Sonnenberg was in the house for one of the performances.

Structured in traditional sonata form, Volkert uses the Pandora story as told by Hesiod to create a musical narrative which relates all of sorts of ills being unleashed once the lid's come off the jar (or box in the more familiar usage), but isn't bound by trying to maintain them within the confines of programmatic writing. The opening reminded me of "Fire On High" by the Electric Light Orchestra, starting somewhere sinewy and mysterious, before it plunged forward. The piece contains some dizzying, virtuoso moments for many in the orchestra, including a cadenza whipped into a frenzy by concertmaster Alexander Barantschik, and has a satisfying narrative feel to it. Buzz-sawing violins give way to basses that sound like fiddles using odd string attacks and pitch changes. It's easy to get lost in a new work one hasn't heard before, trying to follow the thread of the music while listening for clues as to where it's headed next, but Pandora kept me guessing in a good way, nicely interjecting quieter moments within its overall quickly-paced structure. The ending felt right, but wasn't telegraphed in advance. When it was over I observed something rare- Nadya Tichman beaming with obvious delight. The audience gave it a well-deserved warm reception and Volkert, who was seated in the Symphony's VIP section in the Loge off the left hand side of the stage, looked enormously pleased.

During the intermission, while Thaïs queued for a vodka, I went outside to smoke. A slightly weathered, red-faced man in a bright blue shirt stood eyeing me. He was older than I by ten years at least, possibly twenty. I debated whether to approach him and make some small talk about the music we just heard, or take the more common, contemporary option of looking for something fascinating and urgent to read on my phone. I decided to go old school and actually talk to another person rather than stare at my phone while waiting for Thaïs to appear, knowing she could easily get waylaid. My choice yielded dubious results. 

The man was quite jovial and willing to talk. He lived at the far end of the BART line and was himself a musician- I believe he used the words "semi-pro" to describe himself, which meant that he played music for people in an assisted-living home. He began to explain the opening key of the Emperor, which was to be played next, and he did indeed appear to know all of the notes, which he exhibited in a sort of human beat-box delivery, one hand playing the notes on an air piano, the other holding his cigarette and drink. I listened and watched approvingly.

Then Thaïs appeared, so I made introductions. However, I had misheard his name, on which he corrected me. It seems his dentures often caused people to misunderstand him. He then popped them out with his fingers for a visual demonstration. Thaïs and I looked at each other, and I knew I was going to hear yet another lecture later about why I should quit smoking so she doesn't have to wait around for me and endure such people.

Out interlocutor/denture demonstrator then asked where we were from and we replied we lived here in town, which surprised him.

"You two don't seem like San Francisco people," he said.

"Really? Why not?" I asked.

"Well, most San Francisco people are snobs, I think. You two aren't snobs. This place" and here he waved his demo hand toward the brightly lit lobby, "is full of snobs."

I couldn't bring myself to look at Thaïs at this moment- the irony was too great.

He went on about this for a moment or two more, and then noticed people were re-entering the hall, and said he supposed he should get back to his seat. He extended his hand to me in farewell- the same one he used for the denture demo. Time almost stopped in my mind and it seemed like I was having an out-of-body experience as I reflexively took the demo hand and shook it. I wondered where else it had been but managed to stop myself before the entire list of potential horrors grew to a point which would trigger an anxiety attack. Out of the corner of my eye, still in slow-motion, I watched a tight grimace unfurl over Thaïs' face, her eyes hardening into blue steel.

We thanked him for his compliment, and lingered behind, just long enough. 

I waited for the scolding, but it didn't come. Instead she started laughing, "We're not snobs?"

"I guess not."

We re-entered the hall chuckling about this, and I made a beeline for the hand-sanitizer dispenser. 

Back at our seats, we settled in for the second half and Thaïs resumed coughing. 

I've mentioned before that Yefim Bronfman is my favorite pianist and because of that he was the draw for this particular concert, which originally didn't include Volkert's Pandora. However, I wasn't all that excited about what he was playing- Beethoven's Emperor Concerto. That's not because I don't like it. I love it in fact, but somehow it just seemed like an odd choice for Bronfman. Too safe a choice perhaps, for a performer whose recent performances have found him taking on some really challenging pieces. Not that the Emperor isn't a challenge, but it just doesn't feel like one to me at this point. Which seems like a ridiculous thing to actually write down but there you have it. That I would rather hear it performed by a younger, less-established pianist would probably be the best way to describe my ambivalence, and I'd prefer to hear Bronfman perform something more unusual- something which needs to be championed. Salonen's concerto, for example.

Then there's my additional ambivalence around MTT's approach to Beethoven, which can range from the full-throttled, sanguine/sublime end of the scale to stripped-down, lean performances bent on presenting the work as if it were performed on period instruments. I love the former approach, but the latter leaves me cold. I like my Beethoven ruddy, rude and transcendent.

That's not what we got. Now I'll admit I've probably ruined my ability to hear the Emperor correctly. When I first became enthralled by it I used to listen to it while driving in my car, playing it at volumes more suitable for Black Sabbath than Beethoven. Wait- I don't really mean that. Beethoven sounds great at that volume. The problem is a live orchestra is never going to play it that loud. And that's okay if it's performed with gusto and bravado. But on this night at least, everything seemed to be dialed down, with little of the piece's "heroic" character shining through.  The trumpets blended with the horns, instead of standing out clear and bright on their own. Even David Herbert's timpani sounded subdued. The sole bright spot was the string section, which sounded like they were still riding high from Pandora.

Bronfman, meanwhile, performed it seemingly note perfect, and with expressive delicacy at times, especially in the second movement, nicely conveying its sense of wistful loss and remembrance. But it was missing an individualistic stamp which would have raised it above a performance where there was nothing was at all wrong, but there little to be excited about beyond hearing a masterpiece. That's not a bad thing mind you, but this orchestra and soloist have spoiled their audience lately into expecting more. Still, that didn't stop more than a few folks in the center terrace from swaying to the music during the third movement, which was brought to a close with a lively, fast-paced flourish.

Paid in Full

LA Opera announced today that the company has paid off the remainder of the money it borrowed to get it through a rough patch in 2009, in no small part due to expenses from producing its first (and brilliant) Ring Cycle.

I found this to be refreshingly good news. Congratulations to the company and their supporters. For all those people who complained so vociferously about the LA Board of Supervisors backing the loan and screaming it was a waste of money and priorities, I have just one question for you:

Don't you feel a bit silly now?

Next time I want The Music Man, bitches! San Francisco Opera's 2013-14 season.

Get used to this face. You're going to see a lot of it.

Earlier this year I wrote that for the first time during the Gockley era, I would happily see everything San Francisco Opera had to offer in its coming season. It didn't work out that way, since I never made it to a performance of Rigoletto or Tosca, but I've seen both of those productions multiple times (and the most of the leads in other roles) so I didn't feel like I was missing too much. What I heard from others (non-writers)was that Rig was okay and Tosca was great with either cast. The three I did attend this fall were all well worth it: The Capulets and Montagues featured extraordinary singing from Nicole Cabell and Joyce DiDonato; Moby-Dick, though undermined by a second act which doesn't build on the strengths of the first, was still imaginative, memorable, and well-cast; and as I suspected it might, Lohengrin turned out to be an unequivocal triumph on every level- one of the best productions the house has staged in recent years, ranking up there with Nixon in China and The Makropulos Affair in achieving (and surpassing) what one should expect from a world-class company (posts on them should show up soon).

I remain very optimistic about the operas coming up this summer, and suspect they could even hit an artistic trifecta. It looked like Gockley had finally hit his stride here in San Francisco, and that he did it in this economic climate made it all the more impressive. So I'm puzzled and somewhat dismayed by today's announcement of the company's 2013-14 season, even though it's nice to say that for the second year in a row, fully half of it will be comprised of things I've never seen before.

However, what's on tap for next year is not as interesting as the current season- the ability to attract (and pay) the star-power that has been a constant during Gockley's tenure seems greatly diminished- in fact it's at its lowest wattage in several seasons. When Patricia Racette, Ramon Vargas, Nathan Gunn, Bryn Terfel and Dolora Zajick are the seasons biggest names there's not a lot to get people excited about- these are all fine singers without a doubt, and there are many more on the schedule including the excellent Ainhoa Arteta, Heidi Stober and Idlar Abdrazakov, but they're all known quantities. The casts are solid, but there are also a number of debuts by unfamiliar names we can only hope turn out to be pleasant surprises

Where are the company debuts by Nino Machaidze, Michelle De Young, Marina Poplavskaya, Matthias Goerne, Gianluca Terranova or Jonas Kaufmann? Or the return of Stemme, Radvanovsky, Damrau or Keenlyside?  Why no Britten in his centennial year? And why three productions featuring Racette? That's just ridiculous.


Of course these schedules are planned years in advance, but I have to imagine that there's a certain amount of "contingency" scenarios involved, more so now than ever in an era where every house still seems to be having trouble selling tickets. Lisa was at today's press conference and writes that Gockley acknowledged

"the need to keep the company on a decent financial footing has been paramount during the ongoing recession. His priority has been to keep quality high while sacrificing repertory. He said that he is leaving repertory holes, and he knows it, that he hopes will be filled by his white knight successor."

Wait a second- wasn't Gockley supposed to be the white knight whose assignment was to clean up the mess left by his predecessor?


Like this year's Rig and Tosca, there are double casts and long runs of two war horses, The Barber of Seville and La Traviata. During the intermission of Moby Dick I overheard someone who claimed to be a super say the company lost a million dollars on Rigoletto. I have no idea if that's true, but 40% discounts on seats for Rig and Tosca were easily had throughout their runs, despite the well-known leads. So my question is if that didn't work out so well this year, why is it being repeated next year with significantly lesser-known casts?

Okay, enough carping. I'm happy the company is still alive and there is going to be some good stuff on the stage. And once again, there isn't anything I wouldn't see, though there are only four five things I really want to see, plus the added one-night-only performance of Verdi's Requiem with an excellent group of soloists, makes it five six. Here we go, in order:

Mefistofele: Arrigo Boito's only extant complete opera, with a great cast featuring Idlar Abdrazakov, Ramon Vargas and Racette, conducted by Luisotti. A peripheral element of the company's celebration of Verdi's bicentennial, this opera by his best librettist isn't a rarity, but isn't something one sees scheduled too often. This production was last seen in 1994. Racette sang Margherita in that one, too.

Dolores Claiborne: A world premiere is always cause for excitement and trepidation. This one, commissioned by SFO from composer Tobias Picker (An American Tragedy, Emmeline) and librettist/poet J.D. McClatchy (Grendel, Emmeline), is based on the Stephen King King novel of the same name and stars Dolora Zajick in the title role with Elizabeth Futral, Susannah Biller and Wayne Tigges as the "abusive husband." I haven't read the book nor seen the film based on it, so I have no idea what it's about, but I like the idea of Zajick with an abusive husband- sounds like lots of drama.

Show Boat: Not that I expect him to send me tickets or anything like that, since they won't even add me to their press list (why so petty, Jon?), but Gockley is finally following the advice I gave him a couple of years ago and has decided to stage American musicals- he's even taken one of my casting suggestions! So you can blame me or thank me, depending on your stance, on this blatant attempt to bring in the crowds that will prove to be a huge success. Nathan Gunn, Racette and Heidi Stober star in the Kern and Hammerstein classic, directed by Francesa Zambello. It's going to be great, and supposedly done without microphones. Next time I want The Music Man, bitches!

Falstaff: The one supposedly great Verdi opera I've never warmed to, I'm hoping the first-rate cast led by Bryn Terfel in the title role, along with Ainhoa Arteta and Heidi Stober, and led by Luisotti will do the trick in this production from Chicago.

The Flying Dutchman: After such a marvelous Lohengrin this season, it seems like a missed opportunity to pass on celebrating the Wagner bicentennial with Parsifal, but any Wagner is better than no Wagner. I was one of fourteen people who loved the last production from Chicago by Nikolaus Lehnhoff seen here in 2004, so that's been passed over in favor of new co-production with Belgium's Opéra Royal de Wallonie. Greer Grimsley, who impressed everyone as Jokanaan in Salome returns in the title role, Petra Maria Schnitzer, whose last appearance here was in the under-appreciated Tannhauser makes her debut as Senta. Ian Storey (last seen as Siegfried in Gotterdammerung) and Kristinn Sigmundsson are also on hand. Patrick Summers conducts. Okay- make this another one I really want to see- Dutchman, done right, is a fantastic opera.

Madama Butterfly: Racette returns as Cio-Cio-San, a role in which by all accounts she was magnificent when she last performed it here in 2006 and 2007. Regrettably I missed those, since one can only take so many Butterflies, and saw it last time around instead, which was a complete disaster. But this is a production new to SF, so if you've never seen it, or haven't in a long time, now's the time to take in this Puccini masterpiece, which has become so frequently scheduled by the company it seems silly to complain about it at this point even though it shows up almost every other fricking year. Brian Jagde is Pinkerton- another plus.

The Barber of Seville: Gioachino Rossini, certainly one of the greatest opera composers of all time, wrote 39 operas, but only 5 have been seen in San Francisco in the past twenty years and of those 9 productions, 4 have been The Barber. Can't we have something else by Rossini once in awhile? The last production, with its revolving house set and red scooter was a delight, but has been retired for some reason. One can only hope the young and talented casts assembled for this new production have as much to work with. Barber is a wonderful opera, and perfect for first-timers. If done with verve, it can be the most fun you'll ever have at the opera. Here's hoping it's done for fun and not just for the cash.

La Traviata: This production is going to be a hard sell for anyone who saw it the last time it was here with Ruth Ann Swenson, Rolando Villazon and Dimitri Hvorostovsky in the leads (this isn't the flapper production from LA which starred Netrebko). To this day that  performance remains one my all-time favorite operatic experiences. It was traditional staging done in the most magnificent way possible- deadly earnest and flawlessly delivered from everyone involved. It was spellbinding. The cast assembled this time around had better be good, because there is nowhere to hide in this production. The Perez/Costello/Kelsey cast features good singers who could one day be great (and perhaps one is already), but in my opinion they could be a bit on the young side to pull this off as convincingly as it needs to be done to really succeed. In the other cast of Yoncheva/Pirgu/Stoyanov, Pirgu is the only one I've heard and I wasn't overly impressed. I wish them luck, but I'd wait to hear something about it first before plunking down $300+ for a full-price ticket in the Orchestra or Grand Tier sections.