Taking it up the octave

Gud singin’ needs support, placement, technique and passion. Now, I might be an ever so ‘umble cabbie, but I reckons tha’s xaclee wots needed to run a Opera comp’ny.

Az I sit, like ev’ry ovvur internet “expert”, wieldin’ the anoneemus power ov me finger and me mouse, I wunduh wot it’d be like if I run a opera comp’ny.

The ravaged beauty of mid-career ov Elena Souliotis, puts me in mind ov the current state ov me beloved ENO. If sumwun wiv the skills, knowlidge and experience required got ‘old ov it, cud we save sumfink major. Sumfink tha’ changides lives.

At the moment it seems like it’s run by the operatic eqivilint ov Disneys Canard Zillionaire, Scrooge McDuck. They kno’s the price ov ev’ryfink but the value ov nuffink.

This izznt the place to try and solve all the problims. Me owld mucker AyePatz ‘as just popped aht t’ stock up on haggis or sum ovvuh Scotch food (or “fud” az ‘e cawls it), an’ left ‘imself logged on. I’ve respectid ‘iz privacy to sum ixtent (im sayin’ nuffink abaht ‘iz internet ‘istory), but I carnt miss this opportunity t’ share me brilliant forts wiv ya.


Me niece Berniece. Now there’s a girl wiv an eye for fashun. She cud pop dahn t’ Primarni and kit aht the cast, chorus AND orchestra fer a big Wagner, wiv the big ‘ats wiv wings on ’em, fer abaht fifty quid.

Me cousin Barry is too eager by ‘arf to act az dressers fer wot ‘e cawls “awl the huge men, Big Bobby Hayward, Allan (Take-A-Deep-Breath-Girls) Clayton and me ‘ost on this ‘ere blog, Iain (Flaps) Paterson. Fortunately the Restraining Order prohibits Barry from being wivin 50 yards ov a gentlmens lower passagio.

Me lady wife decoratid ahr ahtside privy – slappin’ a bit ov emulshun on a set iz much the same.

Natrully I’d be the dictshun coach. I reckuns theres bin a decline in recent seasons. An’ I carnt abyed i’ when I carnt unnerstahnd wot a geezer or gal iz sayin’. Comprehnday?

I’m also frustin’ meself frunt & centre t’ be the dramaturge. There’s bin too many produkshuns put on when sumwun shudv’e just said, NO. STOP. ARE YOU ‘AVIN’ A FACKIN’ LARF?
Now, if the Royal h’Opera are stickin’ on a Traviata wiv luvvly crinolines an’ stuff like tha’ then it dun’t make sense t’ compete wiv ’em. Contrast, yus. But sensibly. The structure ov the work ‘as t’ be observed (riddiclus cuts just ain’t on) & ‘owever strikin’ it might look, a BLEEDIN’ curtain ain’t a set. It’s acoustically ‘armful t’ start wiv.
I wanna be challengid, an’ inlightend, but I want the work respected. Rusalka, Meistersinger, Boheme, Grimes an’ many ovvuhs got it right.
I wanna see their money on the stage. I Dunt fancy shellin’ aht 80 quid t’ look at a bit ov 2be4 an’ a Barihunk wiv ‘iz junk on full display.

Ya need yur supermarket operas (Boheme, Butterfly, Figaro etc) , sold at supermarket prices (pile ’em ‘igh, sell ’em cheap). But ya need yur Aknartarn…Acnahtun…OchNoDear…Doctor Atomic. Innit.

The company, the soloists, the chorus, the orchestra, the tech staff, all them involved need to be supported, to use their skills and knowledge (their technique) & we need t’ ‘ave the right peepul, in the right place, doin’ the right job: placement. And them az sit on the board, them az make financial decisions, need az much passion az them on stage.

Right, I can ‘ear a sporran wangin’ through the front door. I’d better stop before I suffers the wrath of a heldenbariton.


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