I love opera, bluegrass, burger joints and fictional detectives. Mostly, but not always, in that order. Formerly of Dunedin, formerly of Sydney, now travelling the world with the tenor in my life (Stuart Skelton) and blogging as I go.
Lately, the "S*** [insert group of people here] Say" meme has apparently been doing the rounds of the Internet, although to be honest I only owe this knowledge to suggestions (on one of the sillier blogs I frequent) that it was about to die out anyway. Know Your Meme has a better explanation than I could muster, should you be hungering for some context, but the reason I've brought all of this up is because – and this sort of thing always makes me happy – the meme now has an operatic incarnation. Two, in fact.
This one showed up on my Facebook feed this afternoon.
And when I, in turn, shared it, this one was brought to my attention by the excellent Mr Andrew Finden. It's from a slightly less student-y perspective than the first, and a bit more slickly produced.
I do love the blonde wig. This video also had the bonus of reminding me about Jennifer Rivera (the mezzo in the video, in case you've not watched it). Jennifer (aka Sestissimo) has been blogging for years, but I fear I've neglected her wonderful blog something chronic. There's no good reason for this: over the years, I've landed there on many occasions, loved it, promised myself to keep up with it, and then...not done so. Hopeless. But I've just been catching up with the last six months or so (less impressive than it sounds, as her posts have been brilliant but sparse) and I hope that maybe this time I Will Be Good, and stick with her. You should too. Maybe you already do.
And now that we've had Jennifer (and the similarly hilarious Will Ferguson) in comic mode, here she is in serious Handelian mode, singing up a storm as Nerone in Handel's Agrippina at the Berlin Staatsoper.
This should by rights have been my New Year's Eve post, a round up of all that was grand and glorious for me in 2011, just as it drew to a close. Then several things got in the way: my incompetence, which caused me inadvertently to delete said post; Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve; our own New Year's Eve celebrations; sleep; and last, but not least, a drive to Miami and a flight to Spain, with absurd behaviour from American Airlines obstructing our progress wherever possible.
We made it, however, and are now starting to settle into Oviedo. Rehearsals for Peter Grimes are in their second day and although 2012 is nearly half a week old, I'd still like to celebrate a few of last year's highlights. After all, there's no opera here until Grimes opens, in three weeks or so, so I have to find other blogging fodder, and what better than a list? I love lists.
Thus I give you, in no particular order, my Top Eleven of 2011.
London
Our travel for the year began here, and while it was not my first visit, it was my longest, and reinforced once again my eternal love for this city. I mean, the duck confit sandwiches at Borough Market would actually be reason enough on their own for devotion, but then you start piling on the museums, the parks, the shopping, the Indian food, the sheer sense of history, the theatre and oh my gosh the music. I don't know how people who live there permanently cope with it all: we were only there for eight weeks, and the volume and quality of live classical music on offer was already overwhelming. I saw plenty, but missed even more; and such was the concentration of brilliance that I was twice obliged to forsake my own tenor's Parsifal in favour of other, less repeatable delights. The weather was pretty rotten but if I could have stayed forever, I'd still have done so in a heartbeat.
The Met
Mecca. I finally made it there, and for the most part it lived up to my expectations. Which is to say, it was huge, quite glamorous, and offered an impressive variety of repertoire and an even more impressive line-up of star soloists. Suddenly my CD collection came to life: there were Joyce DiDonato, Diana Damrau, Juan Diego Florez, Renée Fleming, Joe Calleja, Bryn Terfel, Deborah Voigt, Karita Mattila, Peter Mattei, Natalie Dessay and and and ... the list goes on.
And because I was there in the company of another of those star soloists – whose own Met début was even more exciting than any of the star spotting – I was able to experience the backstage half of the company too. I was in the Green Room on opening night of Walküre when ill health forced the divine Eva Maria Westbroek out halfway through and Margaret Jane Wray was summoned to take over (which she did magnificently). We went and said hi to Joyce before she strutted her stuff as the Komponist in Ariadne auf Naxos. I was even hugged by Bryn Terfel. And I'm sure this all sounds like so much insufferable namedropping, but believe me, it's said with nothing but awe and disbelief. Maybe as time goes by, I'll become jaded, but right now I'm still wide-eyed as anything.
Michelle DeYoung
I've lost count of how many times I've raved about Michelle this year, but it's quite a few. She's so worth it. I was fortunate enough to hear Michelle three times this year, in three different countries: as Judith in Bluebeard's Castle with the New York Philharmonic, then in Das Lied von der Erde in Hong Kong and again in Sydney in Mahler 2. Believe it or not, I'm actually not stalking her; but given half a chance, I probably would. She's truly amazing: a wonderful artist, with a voice which is both heaven and earth, all at once, and also one of the coolest people I know. Michelle, you rule.
Orchestras with proper pits
Sydneysiders will understand. While I will always feel a sort of filial affection (coupled with seething frustration) for the Sydney Opera House's Opera Theatre, with its dodgy acoustic and hellish concrete pit, it has been quite a revelation to spend this year in opera houses which don't stow their orchestras under the stage, and whose auditoria are actually, you know, designed for opera. Even the Santa Fe Opera, which is effectively outside, pulls off a fuller, more convincing sound, and the Met, or in Zürich or at either of London's opera houses, well, let's just say you don't know what you're missing until it smacks you round the head. In a good way.
Cheryl's Tosca
Let me get this out of the way first: I am stupendously grateful to whichever operatic deity ensured that Cheryl didn't cancel on me. She has been known to do so, and while I, whose devotion is unconditional, always forgive her for it, it might have been a bitterer pill to swallow this time. When I lived in Sydney, I just booked for every show so that I was covered either way. But I had to fly to Brisbane from Taiwan, and I could only stay long enough for two shows, so the potential for a shattered heart was far greater. Actually she did shatter my heart, but by showing up, not by cancelling. Her Tosca was all I could have hoped for – and I'd been hoping for a while, ever since she was announced for – and then bowed out of – Opera Australia's Tosca two years earlier. As spoilt rotten with opera as I am these days, it still stings a little that I've left the town where I could see my favouritest soprano on a remarkably regular basis – pursuing her is harder now, but my dash across the globe for her Tosca proved that it's still ridiculously worthwhile.
Wagner
From the moment I was brave enough to dip my toes in Wagnerian waters, I've loved the stuff, but for many years never felt I had the fortitude to spend more than the occasional afternoon in its company. Wagner, I felt, was the antithesis of background music – it required all of my energies and attentions – and thus, because I am inherently lazy, I ended up listening to very little. Then along came a Heldentenor and I had no choice but to be immersed. Well, it's been grand. I know Parsifal almost as well now as I know Don Giovanni or Vec Makropulos – a circumstance I hardly saw coming – and can make Lohengrin jokes with the best of them. I know Walküre better than I did a year ago and by the end of 2013 I think I'll probably have it (or at least the first two acts...) down pat.
I love it still, and I still find it perfect and transcendent and all of that stuff which Wagner so patently is. Never too long, too ponderous, too slow or too loud. I've seen more Parsifals this year than your average bear – fifteen I think, in two productions – and it only gets better. I've learnt to love Wagner in rehearsal chunks and in full performance, and I look forward to the day – and it will come – when Tristan arrives.
God
Meaning, of course, Sir John Tomlinson. His Gurnemanz at the ENO was awe-inspiring – imposing and sonorous yet quivering with human emotion, a privilege to behold every single time. And yes, I was also lucky enough to experience Matti Salminen's Gurnemanz, and yes, he's also God, pretty much, though in a rather scarier, Old Testament-y way. Sir John's was the one that got to my heart, however. He was also the first person this year to turn me into a babbling fangrrl when I met him.
Ned Canty
The whole Santa Fe experience was fantastic from start to finish – the food was excellent, the views mindboggling, the opera company treated us beautifully and the show we were there for, Daniel Slater's production of Wozzeck under the inspired leadership of David Robertson, was a massive success. The town itself, and its surrounds, were a revelation in themselves. But operatically speaking, the biggest revelation was the directorial genius of Ned Canty, whose production of Menotti's rarely performed The Last Savage provided one of the smartest, funniest and most captivating nights I've ever had in the theatre. The opera itself was fine, musically, and surprisingly hilarious, but I have no doubt that it was Canty's superb production – and the pitch-perfect performances he drew from a very talented cast – which really caused this rarity to scintillate. I really, really hope to have another chance to see his work, and soon.
Eva Maria Westbroek
I fell for her first in Turnage's Anna Nicole, which did her glorious talents scant justice but still couldn't hide her radiant presence or the liquid gold of her voice. I fell for her again on DVD, in a weirdo production of Fanciulla del West, where I wished she could sing forever, in every role. I missed her, would you believe, in Walküre; even being Siegmund's cover (or his consort) wasn't enough to get tickets for that sold out show. I did meet her, by happy chance, and reverted to babbling fangrrl mode once again. I've been devouring YouTube clips ever since. And this year on April 13 – o wondrous day! – I shall submit to a surfeit of delights, when the Met starts Ring-cycling again and my tenor sings Siegmund to Eva Maria's Sieglinde. I should start training my hands now for the ovations.
Surreal encounters
There have been a few, but the winner has to be the day we arrived in Zürich – and my apologies if I've told you this story before – and found that the key to our apartment didn't work. In the ensuing attempts to unlock the door, we were assisted by two of our neighbours: who turned out to be José van Dam and Peter Seiffert. José made many valiant attempts to wrestle the door open, but in the end it was to no avail, so his wife kindly drove off to collect a new key for us while Peter provided red wine and chocolates. The image of us all, clustered together on the landing and conducting trilingual conversation – while my inner voice squealed that's Lucia Popp's widower! – is not one I'm ever likely to forget. And if I were in need of an emblem of how completely different my life became in 2011, well, there it is.
The tenor in my life
Forgive me now if I get soppy and a bit more autobiographical than usual. It's only for a moment. It has to be said, however, that the facilitator of practically all of the above – the glamorous, the gorgeous, the transcendent, the surreal and the newly pervasive first person plural pronoun – has of course been Stuart, the tenor I ran off with just as 2010 was ending. 2011 has meant a completely new life for me. When I announced all the changes, almost exactly a year ago, I titled the post "Happy New Everything". Well, it's a little less new these days, I suppose, but believe me, just as happy. Happier, in fact. I'm living a life I could never have predicted, an opera fanatic's dream in many ways; but the best thing about it, when it comes down to it, is just having an awesome person to share it all with. He's got a nasty habit of murdering swans, of course, but hey – nobody's perfect.
Right, that's the soppy bit – and the list as a whole – over and done with. Here's your reward for making it this far.
It's Joyce! Because I can't quite believe I didn't give her a separate listing here.
Please alert your Operatic Elf Division (or Universal Music) that these are the presents I'd like. They don't exist yet but I have absolute faith in your little helpers to make them happen.
Natalie Dessay: songs of Débussy, Poulenc, Satie and Fauré. Natalie doesn't seem to do art song, and I've never quite understood why. And while I could happily live on the French song albums of her compatriots Sandrine Piau and Véronique Gens – not to mention the Divine Flott – I'm still curious as to what she'd do with this repertoire.
The Complete Elly Ameling Edition. I am catching up, lamentably late, with the glory that is Elly Ameling, but my trademark laziness is, as usual, doing battle with my completist aspirations. I just want it all, and, like Veruca Salt, I want it now. A complete Mirella Freni edition wouldn't go amiss either; I have quite a bit of her, but I know there are gaps, and one can never have too much Mirella.
Karina Gauvin Sings: The Phone Book. She might as well. I'd listen to it.
Stuart Skelton: German Romantic arias and orchestral songs. Thus spake bias, but hey, I'm guessing that if you've heard him, you'd quite like this to exist too, no? And speaking of Australian singers in need of solo discs, where oh where is Peter Coleman-Wright sings Baritone Hits when you need it? ABC Classics, I'm looking at you. And while we're at it, the world would be a better place if Duets and Debauchery with Jacqui Dark and Kanen Breen were a real thing.
A chance (and a ticket) to see Aleksandra Kurzak live. I've consulted my calendar and hers, and so far, we scheduled to coincide exactly nowhere. Hope, however, springs eternal.
Michelle DeYoung Sings: Anything She Darn Well Pleases. As with Karina. I am at her mercy. Anything she chooses to sing will delight me. And I will buy it for everyone I know. And for strangers. And an extra copy for myself, just in case.
I would also really appreciate it if the Elves could dig up a beautifully produced studio Lohengrin with Lucia Popp as Elsa and, say, James King in the title role. If Melba Recordings cares to do a Thaïs with Cheryl and Peter, well, I wouldn't complain. And let's not forget the Opera Australia Britten DVDs. Midsummer Night's Dream, Turn of the Screw, Billy Budd and, oh yes, Peter Grimes. Hey, it's Christmas: a girl can dream.
So much for the realms of fantasy. Now for some excerpts from my real life wish list:
Véronique Gens: Tragédiennes III. One serious disadvantage of no longer working in classical music retail is that releases like this pass me by completely. I waited for Volume II for weeks, tore into every box from EMI/Virgin with indecent haste, and snapped up the very first copy we unpacked. But I only found out Volume III existed courtesy of somebody's throwaway comment on (sigh) Parterre. I've yet to see it in a physical CD store; that's still my preference, but the day is fast approaching when I give in and download the thing.
As many tickets as I can sensibly acquire for Opera Australia's Salome and Die Tote Stadt. I'm still not convinced on the whole Korngold-wrote-film-scores-so-it's-OK-to-pipe-the-orchestra-in thing, but hey: Cheryl. As Marie/Marietta. And Salome needs no explanation. Amazingly, I will be in Australia at the right time for both.
All the Karina Gauvin I don't already own. Self explanatory. I'm getting there, but some help would be nice, Santa!
Alice Coote: The Power of Love. I cannot tell you how much I've longed for another Alice Coote recital disc, and at last, it's on its way. (The title is giving me visions of Alice Coote as Céline Dion, but this seems unlikely to eventuate.)
Cheryl Barker: Pure Diva. I downloaded it, so buying the physical CD has slipped down my priority list. But it would still be nice to own, if not to fork out for. Ergo, ideal stocking stuffer.
Enough demands? Probably. Once again I have betrayed my teenybopper nature – I'm afraid I can't help but feel guilty for not filling my list with rare archival recordings of Amelita Galli-Curci or eleven different Callas Toscas. But maybe I should beat myself up instead for asking Santa for anything at all. The amount of amazing live opera I'll be brushing up again in the next twelve months is an embarassment of riches: enough for any number of Christmases, I'd say.
Now tell me (and I'll tell Santa). What's on your wish list, real or fantastic?
Facebook challenge: The first aria you fell in love with
Thanks to Barbara Bonney's CD of the same name, which I fell in love with even before my operatic obsession had really begun, it's "Fairest Isle", from Purcell's King Arthur. And lo and behold, here's a clip of her singing it in a production of the opera. A very weird production, by the looks of it, but hey, it's Barbara, I'm not complaining.
An Acquired Taste: The most attractive artist ever
Female or male? Never mind, I can answer both with one photo. Here are Franco Corelli and Anna Moffo. Both outrageously attractive, and as it happens, both favourite singers of mine.
An Acquired Taste: Take your favourite opera and assemble your dream cast
My favourite opera is Peter Grimes, but I've already seen my dream cast in that. But I do dream of a Rosenkavalier with Soile Isokoski as the Marschallin, Joyce DiDonato as Octavian, Diana Damrau as Sophie, Kristinn Sigmundsson as Ochs and Thomas Allen as Faninal. That would not, I suspect, be terrible. Nor is it actually beyond the realm of possibility. Peter Gelb, are you listening?
In my case, the answer is pretty much all of them — I've always been a fan of going solo to the opera, whether by choice or compulsion, or because my steady date is, you know, up there singing. However, I do recall actively discouraging company when I saw a string of Butterflys with Cheryl Barker — I wanted to keep all that wonderful trauma to myself and not dilute it with socialising and stuff — so let's go with that.
Facebook challenge: Aria which perfectly exemplifies anger
An Acquired Taste: An opera you'd sell a kidney to see
Salome with Cheryl Barker in the title role. Luckily, I understand I won't need to pay nearly so dearly.
DAY 22
Facebook challenge: Famous operatic chorus
An Acquired Taste: Best opera to see with a friend
Surely that depends pretty heavily on the friend? But I guess most people would struggle to have a terrible time at Tosca. (And it's certainly the best opera to take my best friend to.)
DAY 23
Facebook challenge: An evil character you'd like to play
(Speaking of Tosca.)
An Acquired Taste: Best opera to see with a lover
Peter Grimes. No, really. As a test. I mean, if you don't fundamentally agree about Grimes (either positively or negatively) then maybe you need to reconsider the whole relationship. Or is that just me?
I think this really depends on the production. In which case, I pick Rameau's Les indes galantes, on account of the insane Les Arts Florissants production.
In all honesty, I think the answer is probably Verdi if it's anyone, though all my real favourite composers are from everywhere but Italy. For variety's sake, however, and because I love how he got it so right, so early, I'm going with Monteverdi.
Marie and Tonio. Nobody dies, there are no massive misunderstandings or accusations, and it all ends happily. I've already posted a clip of Natalie, so here's the excellent Mariella Devia (and Paul Austin Kelly) instead.
I'm going to cheat a little here and go with a singer-specific answer. In the hands of its writer, Dolly Parton's "I Will Always Love You" is a song I like very much indeed. Translated into Italian, dressed up with a syrupy orchestral backing, and sung by Katherine Jenkins, it definitely falls into the category of HATE.
Here's my beloved Dolly singing it. Let's try and pretend KJ never touched it.
Having already picked you-know-who as my favourite tenor, I figure he's hors concours for this one, so I'm opting for my another of my favourite Australians, Peter Coleman-Wright. Here he is as the Count in Opera Australia's recent Figaro. I'd rather have a clip of just him, but this will have to do.
This probably upset somebody, but Sir Arthur Sullivan. I know plenty of people who swear by it, but I've just never understood the musical appeal of Gilbert & Sullivan.
Hate is far too strong a word. But Zerlina irritates me, and this aria (particularly when annoyingly staged) doesn't help. Until, that is, I hear it sung like this, and wonder how I ever dared to say a word against it.
Colonial Opera House, Big Rapids, MI. I really hope that's somebody's house next door to it. That's where I'd want to live too.
City Hall and Opera House (what a nice combination) in Derby, CT. Still standing! And may even have ghosts.
Exterior and interior of Piper's Opera House in Virginia City, NV. Built in 1885, abandoned by 1940, but subsequently restored and now back in active service. I want to see what would happen if the Met had advertising like that in its auditorium.
The Detroit Opera House. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think it's still there. Michigan Opera lives elsewhere now.
The Arcade Opera House Block in Kankakee, IL. It's still standing, after a fashion, though its present day state is depressingly dull.
That'll do for tonight. I still wish I could step, Mary Poppins-like, into these images.
Perhaps the most biased answer ever, but no less true for that. Yes, as far as I'm concerned, the best tenor is my tenor. (Though I think he'd tell you it was James King.)
(Third Peter Grimes clip in six days, I know. But it's the best opera ever, or close to it.)
My esteem (or otherwise) for bel canto has more to do with who happens to be singing it at me than the relative merits of its composers — frankly I could probably live without it, if only it didn't give people like Joyce DiDonato and Beverly Sills a chance to be insanely wonderful. Anyway, for argument's sake, I'll say Rossini. If only so I can post this:
I racked my brains for a while on this, then realised I was missing the blindingly obvious. Ellen's Embroidery Aria from Peter Grimes. Clip from Opera Australia's production, naturally; still the best thing I've ever seen in any theatre, ever.
So many possibilities. I nearly said Joyce. I could also say Marilyn. Or countless others. But I'm going to say Lorraine. I mean, was she even of this earth?
Best, rather than favourite? Not that I'm sure it makes a difference. Mirella's definitely one of my candidates, but since I've just posted her above, I'll pick my operatic mother, without whom my love of opera might never have happened. Lucia Popp.
I can never pick just one favourite anything. There are plenty of contenders for this one, but in the end I couldn't quite go past the Te Deum from Tosca. Last year, when I thought I'd seen enough performances of Opera Australia's Tosca, it was the chance to hear John Wegner sing this one more time which convinced me to go a fifth time. Here's George London. Audio only; there's video too but I can't embed it.
Yes, this question is in the other challenge too, and I answered it yesterday. All part of my cunning plan. I have several favourites. Yesterday I picked Richard Strauss. Today, Mozart. Obvious, maybe, but inevitably true. Especially in face of this sort of thing:
I knew those opera house postcards would take over my life. Trawling for more images, I ran into the Century Opera House, aka the Century Theatre, aka the New Theatre. And the internet being what it is, one link led to another led to a Wikipedia article led to Flickr led to various online archives and so on and so on, until the number of tabs open in my browser window became almost obscene.
Construction on the New Theatre started in 1906 It was the project of one Heinrich Conried, a director of the Metropolitan Opera House, who liked the idea of a New York equivalent of the Comédie Française. The theatre opened in late 1909, at Central Park West and 62nd Street. Its Wikipedia article has a wonderful selection of photos published in The New York Architect that year.
The exterior:
The auditorium:
The main foyer:
And particularly noteworthy, from an operatic point of view, this poster:
And sure enough, the Met's performance database lists a whole series of performances at the New Theatre. Its inaugural production was Massenet's Werther, evidently produced under pressure, judging by this note, which was included in the program:
Owing to unforeseen delay in having the lighting apparatus, other stage mechanism and needed facilities completed, and the consequent impossibility to secure for this first presentation adequate stage rehearsals, the opera Werther cannot be presented this evening in full accordance with the standards of this company. The Metropolitan Opera Company and The New Theatre management, however, believe they are meeting the wishes of their patrons in not postponing the performance, but respectfully request the indulgence of the audience for unavoidable shortcomings.
You don't see those sorts of notes these days, do you? Perhaps part of the problem was that the conductor, director and most of the cast were all making their débuts. Only the Charlotte was an established Met star: Miss Geraldine Farrar. A wealth of performances followed: The Barber of Seville, The Bartered Bride (with Emmy Destinn), Manon (with Frances Alda, just two months before she married the Met's director, Giulio Gatti-Cassazza) and a number of shortish works which were paired with ballets. Pavlova danced Act I of Coppélia there, on various double bills, including a Sonnambula with Elvira de Hidalgo, who would go on to teach Maria Callas, and a Cavalleria Rusticana with Olive Fremstad as Santuzza. 1909 also saw the theatre host the world première of Rachmaninov's Piano Concerto No. 3, played by the composer himself.
But the relationship with the Met was shortlived — there's nothing in the database beyond 1910. The theatre's poor acoustics and less-than-brilliant location, a mile away from the theatre district, did it no favours, and by 1911 the building was being leased to various other managers — Ziegfeld among them — who changed its name. It was the Century Theatre, then the Century Opera House, then the Century Theatre again. Musical performances continued: the Internet Broadway Database lists a variety of musicals and operettas right up until the late 20's. And they evidently persisted with meaty opera too: I did find this 1913 program for Cavalleria Rusticana and Hansel & Gretel.
The theatre gods, however, were not on the Century's side. It failed, and in 1930 the building was demolished. In its place rose a building which shares its name, and which is still a distinctive part of the Manhattan skyline, the Century Apartments:
Furthering my addiction to CardCow by collecting images of opera house postcards...
Central City Opera, in Colorado. The fifth oldest opera company in the US. The theatre was built in 1878.
The Opera House and Eagles Lodge Hall in Sheboygan, Wisconsin. A 1912 history of the county says: "Sheboygan has an opera house in which her citizens take a great pride. It is a beautiful building, both from an exterior and interior view-point, and cost the subscribers to stock issued $45,000. It is conveniently located, on the corner of New York avenue and Seventh street. This play house was opened November 3, 1903, under the management of W. H. Stoddard, who presented to an admiring public "The Burgomaster," in one of the prettiest theaters in Wisconsin." Is it still there? Google Maps is too fuzzy for me to tell.
As you probably know, if you're operatically inclined enough to read this blog, last week was #operaplot week. This dangerously enjoyable competition/geekfest, the brainchild of Miss Mussel (aka Marcia Adair) has been running annually now since 2009. It's the reason I joined Twitter, in fact, and still one of the best reasons to stay there.
Celebrity judge Eric Owens will announce the winners on Wednesday, but in the meantime, here are some of my personal favourites from this year's crop.
@SamNeuman "You need anything dusted? Swept? OK, we'll just...stare at the harbor all day again," Suzuki says, mentally updating her résumé.
Queen Elizabeth I: legendary sovereign or vile lady-bastard? Mary, put your hand down, we know which way YOU’RE voting.
@frindley 1 2 3 bat on a bench 1 2 3 jailing offense 1 2 3 fancy dress 1 2 3 oh what a mess 1 2 3 silly revenge… 1 2 3 doing the batty bat!
@ppelkonen Could you maybe pull out the sword and not sing loudly while doing it? My husband's trying to sleep.
@Cyradis ALMAVIVA: Figaro, your new wife is hot! FIGARO: Dude, why did I ever help you in the first place?
@harryfiddler Macbeth: Thane of Cawdor, tick. Thane of Glamis, tick. King hereafter? Hmm. Lady Macbeth: Don't worry darling, I'm on it.
@ogiovetti "Yo, Walther. I'm really happy for you and imma let you finish, but Hans Sachs was the best Meistersinger of ALL TIME."
@1and1make1 "Wardrobe has some concerns about using glass slippers. Maybe the prince could just recognize her jewelry or something."
@funwithiago YO! That old dude had THE BEST IDEA: Let's try to make our GFs cheat on us with EACH OTHER. Bro, this can only end hilariously.
@kfpsoprano I'm not going to choose between music and poetry. Instead I'm going to stand here and have the most self indulgent moment ever.
@sohothedog Count A. in Seville: unlocked the 'Rosina' badge.
And if only for archiving's sake, the following are my own efforts. Some new, some recycled from previous years.
"I pity." — The Fool.
Stranger swans into town, has anonymous one-knight-stand, kills a guy, produces a child, swans out again. What a champion.
So I'm poor and crazy, and my girlfriend is a whore. I wonder how I can make our son's life even worse. Ooh, I know! *gets knife*
RT @pequod_captain ZOMG so sick of teh FAIL WHALE!!!
Self-referential, self-indulgent meditation on importance (or otherwise) of libretto sure puts the "META" in Metastasio.
Coming up on Bravo: Cross-dressing, drunken parties, partner-swapping and more, with the Real Housewives of Medieval Touraine.
Mother-in-law from hell drives son's frustrated young wife into the arms of another, into madness, and into the Volga.
Contestant on macabre Hungarian gameshow ignores all hints from the host and opens one mystery door too many.
Noble lady trapped in harem of surprisingly complex Pasha. Will her fiancé get to her before Stockholm syndrome does?
A bromance amid the Brahmins reaches its nadir at around the same time the priestess-in-the-middle reaches hers.
Friday, Friday, gotta get healed on Friday, everybody's lookin' forward to re-demp-tion. Holy grail holy grail (yeah).
Just because you're coulrophobic doesn't mean the clown WON'T kill you.
Keep yourself / Full of beans / And avoid / Bloody scenes / Give your captain / Burma-Shave
Exultant newlywed, turned green by nihilist's strategically placed handkerchief, discovers just how moreish jealousy can be.
Charismatic opera star maintains career, good looks & slavish fanbase for THREE CENTURIES. Could be an #operaplot; could just be Domingo.
Swiss maid discovers 9th century precursor to the Twinkie Defense. Breaks into coloratura of disbelief when it actually WORKS.
Amatory lepidopterist traps fragile specimen among Nagasaki cherry blossoms. Fumbling to release her, he crushes her instead.
Fine, I don't need to know who you are or where you're from, but can we PLEEASE play the Lohengrin Bridal Chorus at our wedding?
Ten years later, Brett Dean's elaborate excuse to make Peter Coleman-Wright grow a moustache finally pays off.
Unrequited lover's talent for maudlin poetry is dwarfed by his spectacular gift for RUINING Christmas.
It's just like The Sound of Music, but with ghosts & Freudian angst instead of schmaltz & Nazis. And the kids are even creepier.
o hai burrough!! im in ur vilage, killin ur prentisses. or am i? i can haz ellen? oh noes! kthxbai :(
Able seaman and troubled soul departs gossip's gutters, stumbles into stormy seas while gazing at the stars.
