I've never been what you would call an “opera guy”, but I think that's more for lack of experience rather than any real dislike of the genre. I mean, I like classical music, and I like musicals, so why wouldn't I enjoy opera?
The answer is: I don't know.
I think the biggest thing that kept me from checking it out (besides lack of funds and a tuxedo) is the clichéd fat-woman-in-the-viking-helmet screeching. But I don't think every opera does that, and, even if it does, fat chicks need love, too.
From the audience, I mean.
The reason I bring this up is because I had a chance to go to an opening night (yes, “an” opening night, as it was really a week of opening nights) of the newly renovated Alice Tully Hall at Lincoln Center a few weeks ago. And while I didn't see a true opera, what I got to see was a guy singing opera.
I really, really liked it.
The night actually began with a piano player with the awesome name of Imogen Cooper playing a Schubert program, “Piano Sonata in A major, D.959” (I'm not sure if “D.959” is actually part of the title, but that's what my Playbill says). I was impressed—as I normally am when someone really skilled plays an instrument. However, I was a little apprehensive, as not only was the piece she played pretty long (and I wondered about my cultural stamina), but coming up was a guy singing.
In German.
For like an hour.
But it was awesome. Furchteinflößend, even. (Please pardon me if my German is Internet-translation derived, and therefore horribly, horribly offensive).
Again, the music was Schubert, this time “Die schöne Müllerin, D.795.” And, again, Cooper was playing piano. But now this guy was singing, Mark Padmore.
A tenor, at first I was like: “Can I really listen to a guy singing in German for an hour?” But as he got into it, so did I, and I began to realize that German can be a beautiful language. And then the music kept building and building, and I could feel it.
It's a good feeling.
An hour later, and I was a very happy customer.
Bravo, dude!
So now I'm on the lookout for a good starter opera—something for the amateur like myself who wants to give it a shot. Recommendations are welcome.
I'm also going to check out a Mark Padmore album. Guy's got some chops.
By the way—the Hall was looking pretty good. My one beef was how my seat was set up. We had seats in a "box" on the second level, but the chairs were just chairs that could be moved. Which is good, because the way the were set up, they weren't angled to view the stage. Too, the box wasn't really graded (like stadium seating). So, unless you're tall, you might have a hard time seeing past the person in front of you. That meant that the seat against the railing had a good view, but when I switched with my friend after the intermission, I really did not get to see Cooper and Padmore at the same time. Which is kind of a drag.
Also, the atonal "Intermission-is-over" chime was not only incredibly loud, but also super-duper long. I hope they've gotten that under control.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Screw Chicks, I Just Gotta Dance
Back when Dane Cook was funny, that line made me laugh. It still does. But this isn't about Dane.
About three or four months ago, my brother had given me the soundtrack to the musical Wicked. I had kind of wanted to listen to it for a while, because I had heard good things about it.
Then I listened to it.
“Good”? How 'bout “Freakin' amazing!”
I always approach an album with some trepidation, because the odds that I'm going to be disappointed at some point is always there—there's no way I'm going to like every song. Even on albums that I love, there's usually one or two songs I wish were better. Although Wicked is no exception, I have no problems with the songs I don't like (and really, the one song I sometimes find myself skipping now—and this is after weeks of repeated listening—is “Something Bad”).
The fact is, I was listening to the soundtrack so much, I was actually up at night, the songs running through my head. As I don't sleep very well to begin with, I figured I needed to do something about this.
So I went to go see the actual show.
Living in New York City affords me this kind of activity (although, ironically, in order to live in New York City, I can rarely afford this kind of activity), and after getting tickets three months in advance—this show has been in the theater for years, and that's still how long the waiting list is for a Wednesday night performance—I finally got to see the story performed in its entirety, filling in the gaps between the songs.
I ain't gonna lie—I cried a little. I know, I know—I'm a grown man. But sometimes its nice to let something emotional take over for a few hours, and where's a better place than the darkness of a theater? I got chills watching them sing the songs that I had already established such a strong connection to and, for me, great music has the ability to physically effect me.
When I was younger, I had a similar experience with Les Miserables: I had listened to the CDs so much, that by the time I saw the play, it bordered on a religious experience. I don't give standing ovations at a lot of performances—you need to knock my socks off—but these two shows (and sports—I give lots of standing ovations during sports) were some of the only times I thought an artist deserved that kind of admiration from me.
One thing I wanted to note, too: Usually, I am the biggest proponent of “the book is better.” In a few rare instances—The Lord of the Rings standing out prominently in my mind, which Richard Morgan pretty much explains for me on Suvudu.com—I am torn, because I think the performance of the story actually brought out visually much more than the author could put down on paper.
Wicked the Broadway musical is waaaayy better than the book.
I remember being intrigued by Gregory Maguire's take on the Wizard of Oz mythos, and thought that, overall, he did a very decent and creative job with the story of the Wicked Witch of the West. But I remember a dryness to the book that, followed by the sequel, Son of a Witch, just didn't grab me.
The musical, though, grabs you and doesn't let go. Grabs you like a British nanny, and shakes and shakes and...
Does that reference even work? Sorry.
I'm not saying don't read the book, just that it really wasn't for me—I have no desire to go out and get the third one in the series. I will say, I love the design of the book, though (I know, that's a weird, back-handed compliment, isn't it?).
But definitely listen to the soundtrack. That is, if you're into musicals—you pretty much have to be willing to have people burst into song at the drop of a hat. I will say that one thing that works so well about this (and about any good musical) is that the transitions between dialogue and song feel natural—the actors don't just burst into song for no apparent reason. The songs become gratifying explanations of what's been happing/about to happen.
And, if you get the chance, go see the show. I had a little trepidation that, because Kristin Chenoweth and Idina Menzel were no longer part of the cast—they were the original Glinda and Elphaba (the Wicked Witch) on Broadway and on the soundtrack. But the two actors I saw, Nicole Parker (Elphaba) and Alli Mauzey (Glinda), were excellent. I don't think they're going to allow the show to suck, and I can honestly say I wasn't let down at all.
Sorry in advance:
It was wicked awesome.
About three or four months ago, my brother had given me the soundtrack to the musical Wicked. I had kind of wanted to listen to it for a while, because I had heard good things about it.
Then I listened to it.
“Good”? How 'bout “Freakin' amazing!”
I always approach an album with some trepidation, because the odds that I'm going to be disappointed at some point is always there—there's no way I'm going to like every song. Even on albums that I love, there's usually one or two songs I wish were better. Although Wicked is no exception, I have no problems with the songs I don't like (and really, the one song I sometimes find myself skipping now—and this is after weeks of repeated listening—is “Something Bad”).
The fact is, I was listening to the soundtrack so much, I was actually up at night, the songs running through my head. As I don't sleep very well to begin with, I figured I needed to do something about this.
So I went to go see the actual show.
Living in New York City affords me this kind of activity (although, ironically, in order to live in New York City, I can rarely afford this kind of activity), and after getting tickets three months in advance—this show has been in the theater for years, and that's still how long the waiting list is for a Wednesday night performance—I finally got to see the story performed in its entirety, filling in the gaps between the songs.
I ain't gonna lie—I cried a little. I know, I know—I'm a grown man. But sometimes its nice to let something emotional take over for a few hours, and where's a better place than the darkness of a theater? I got chills watching them sing the songs that I had already established such a strong connection to and, for me, great music has the ability to physically effect me.
When I was younger, I had a similar experience with Les Miserables: I had listened to the CDs so much, that by the time I saw the play, it bordered on a religious experience. I don't give standing ovations at a lot of performances—you need to knock my socks off—but these two shows (and sports—I give lots of standing ovations during sports) were some of the only times I thought an artist deserved that kind of admiration from me.
One thing I wanted to note, too: Usually, I am the biggest proponent of “the book is better.” In a few rare instances—The Lord of the Rings standing out prominently in my mind, which Richard Morgan pretty much explains for me on Suvudu.com—I am torn, because I think the performance of the story actually brought out visually much more than the author could put down on paper.
Wicked the Broadway musical is waaaayy better than the book.
I remember being intrigued by Gregory Maguire's take on the Wizard of Oz mythos, and thought that, overall, he did a very decent and creative job with the story of the Wicked Witch of the West. But I remember a dryness to the book that, followed by the sequel, Son of a Witch, just didn't grab me.
The musical, though, grabs you and doesn't let go. Grabs you like a British nanny, and shakes and shakes and...
Does that reference even work? Sorry.
I'm not saying don't read the book, just that it really wasn't for me—I have no desire to go out and get the third one in the series. I will say, I love the design of the book, though (I know, that's a weird, back-handed compliment, isn't it?).
But definitely listen to the soundtrack. That is, if you're into musicals—you pretty much have to be willing to have people burst into song at the drop of a hat. I will say that one thing that works so well about this (and about any good musical) is that the transitions between dialogue and song feel natural—the actors don't just burst into song for no apparent reason. The songs become gratifying explanations of what's been happing/about to happen.
And, if you get the chance, go see the show. I had a little trepidation that, because Kristin Chenoweth and Idina Menzel were no longer part of the cast—they were the original Glinda and Elphaba (the Wicked Witch) on Broadway and on the soundtrack. But the two actors I saw, Nicole Parker (Elphaba) and Alli Mauzey (Glinda), were excellent. I don't think they're going to allow the show to suck, and I can honestly say I wasn't let down at all.
Sorry in advance:
It was wicked awesome.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)