In La Scala Romeo and Juliet ballet production, there's more fighting behind the scenes than on stage

Teatro alla Scala photo

I've just read a theatrical horror story that made me think of the Marx Brother's Night at the Opera crossed with the most biting satire one could imagine about mounting a production -- except that it's all real.

In the style of current TV storytelling, I'm going to introduce it from the closing paragraphs, then let you click on the link to read the harrowing journey to that moment. It's a long but gripping read, as Britain's Classic FM presenter Natalie Wheen chronicles, in The Arts Desk, every hairpin twist and turn in a new production of Kenneth MacMillan's classic 1965 choreography for the ballet Romeo and Juliet at Teatro alla Scala, in Milan.

(When I interviewed Italian soprano Serena Farnoccia earlier this year, during her wonderful turn in the Canadian Opera Company's production of Maria Stuarda, she mentioned that she doesn't accept many opera engagements in Italy anymore, because of the headaches leading up to opening night.)

Granted, there's plenty of nail-biting before every first curtain. But this is scarier than most.

Here is how Wheen's story ends:

At 8pm, the theatre is full with Milan in its finery. Kevin Rhodes enters the pit in his evening dress, his orchestra in shorts and T-shirts. I wondered whether they were the faces he expected to see.

So the bustle of the market starts, the swashbuckling swordfights, Juliet and the nurse and meeting the unlucky Paris. The team holds its breath before the opening to the Capulet’s ball - which seems to go pretty well – swags and candelabra more or less all present. The change to the Balcony scene works its magic – until someone knocks a fader and a great streak of white light blares across the stage.

And you could hear everyone in the theatre thinking, “For goodness sake, why can’t they get something as basic as that right?”

And here is how it all began.

As a soundtrack, here is a clip of Andrei Gavrilov playing the "Montagues and Capulets" scene from Sergei Prokofiev's score on the piano (in case you didn't know, Prokofiev composed everything at the piano, then worked out the orchestration afterward):

Now you will never need to let a missing corkscrew spoil the fun

This has nothing to do with music -- and everything to do with the sort of nonsense that can keep a missing corkscrew from spoiling an otherwise fine moment.

For those of you who do not speak French, bear with the video, because the language is immaterial. Thanks, Iby!

Do parents really need prepared infant entertainment to go with microwave meals?

ArtsJournal pointed me to "My Baby, the opera buff," an article in Tuesday's London Times about Scottish Opera's Baby O Project, aimed at exposing children who are 6 to 18 months old to opera.

After reading the story, it's clear that this is not opera, but sort of a live Teletubbies show.

There was a lot of background information on how infants' brains are developed in nice ways by exposure to music.

Then I realised that I had all of this available to me in my own home when I was growing up, but no one called it anything special. My mother sang (and my father tried to), there was classical radio, the record player (there also were LP records, but I changed that when I decided to dump some in the kitchen sink to clean off the dust with Ajax and hot water while my mother was otherwise occupied one afternoon), and, the biggest treat of all, my grandparents' willingness to let me run riot at their piano for a few minutes whenever we went for a visit (a noisy indulgence my mother wouldn't consider).

Instead of allowing piano time for fingers that could only barely reach the keyboard, I was granted kitchen-floor time. I was allowed to use mixing bowls and pots as percussion instruments, but my favourite activity was tuning rubber bands by stretching them between two kitchen-cabinet knobs, then rotating the knobs to increase or decrease the tension while plucking the bands.

Why am I writing all this nonsense? Simply this: Every parent already has everything they need to expose their precious offspring to the joys and wonder of organized sound sitting at home, waiting for the naturally curious eyes and ears. It's just a matter of connecting the miscellaneous dots.

What most parents don't have is the time to actually engage with their children during the day -- or the energy and patience to do it once the workday is finished.

So, enter sophisticated developmental studies and imaginative programs, such as Scottish Opera's, to pick up where the parents leave off, while checking pre-dinnertime emails on the Blackberry. It's much easier to have someone else do the work -- and put up with the noise -- than to do it yourself. Much like buying prepared or microwave meals at the greengrocer's.

But there are some things you can do right now to connect your child with music, even if you're not there to supervise. Start by chatting with the daycare managers to see if some percussion and singing time is part of the daily routine, or, sit down with the nanny to explore the possibilities in and around the house.

I leave you with Exhibit A, a.k.a. little Jun Seo, having the time of her life with four pieces of wood:

2010 edition of Twitter-an-opera-plot contest is underway with celebrity judge, tenor Jonas Kaufman

Marcia Adair, a.k.a. The Omniscient Mussel in the blogosphere, has launched the latest edition of her #Operaplot 2010 contest. She has rounded up some operatastic prizes -- as well as hunky German tenor Jonas Kaufman as judge.

Let the fun and games begin.

Code Organ is just the ticket for when a composer's own musical creativity has gone into hibernation

A couple of years ago, I interviewed an internationally respected composer of very serious new music who had a set of algorithms on his computer that he would use to help him write music. You can argue that all music follows rules of one sort or another, so there's nothing wrong with this. But the bulk of great moments in music of any culture come from composers, interpreters and improvisers who bend or ignore the prevailing code of the day.

I left the interview feeling depressed.

If you can compose using an algorithm, then instead of leading on starving human composers with dreams that someone will eventually perform the fruit of their labours more than once, we could fill a room with iMacs and tell Computer No. 1 to please produce a cello sonata in the style of Chopin, No. 2 to write a gigue in the style of Couperin, and No. 3 a ballet suite in the style of Copland. 

Mac No. 4 could produce "random" music (but, of course, there's nothing random if you have to write software code to operate it).

Something like the Code Organ, a nifty little piece of Internet tomfoolery that converts the text of a website into electronic dance music. The software strips out any characters that don't represent notes on the Western scale, selects one of 10 synthesizer sounds and adds a drum loop (also chosen from 10 options) that best corresponds to the letter pattern on the web page.

It's fun for a few minutes.

British researchers invite Web listeners to vote in exercise on Darwinian musical evolution

In an interesting twist on the 150th anniversary of Charles Darwin's On the Origin of Species, a group of researchers in biological sciences at Imperial College, London, led by Dr. Bob MacCallum, are running an experiment on musical evolution. They created a group of musical parents -- "loops" -- which are then propagated, nurtured or killed via Internet participation at darwintunes.org.

The effort is an interesting, electronica-pop-focused game. Because it evolves on the basis of note patterns rather than a combination of factors, such as tone rows or scales, harmony, drones and possible counterpoints, just to mention a few tools in the Western composer's toolbox, this isn't really a slice of cultural evolution as seen under a microscope, but an interesting exercise in capturing the mood of a moment. 

This morning, the site was up to 25,000 ratings, so the music loops are getting more sophisticated. Because the music is built on short, repeated note motifs, it is, essentially, what we would call minimalist. I would love to see how the finished result compares with today's favourite electronica and new-music artists working within a similar style.

Will it be survival of the slickest?

Participating properly demands a bit of a time commitment. You have to register first (which isn't complicated), so don't expect to be able to start instantly.

This video explains the project in brief:

A brave new world of iPhone instruments surrounds us

Never before has so much musical potential been in the hands of so many people. I can imagine impromptu concerts in the subway. Or in the cafeteria at lunch. Or over an after-work cocktail on a favourite patio.

The iPhone is many things, including a musical instrument. A fascinating article from Wednesday's San Francisco Chronicle counts the ways.

You can turn it into a virtual guitar, digital keyboard and a beatbox, for starters. Add in a voice, if she's nearby, and you have a live show wherever you want to go. Use Moo-Cow-Music Band to perform and mix it all digitally, then distribute the results via email or text to your list of friends.

And anyone who can pay their monthly iPhone bill can certainly afford the $3.99 cost to download a pocket-sized version of a digital editing suite. This is music at its most democratic.

I can see concerts turning audience members into members of the band or orchestra in the not too distant future.

I found a neat iPhone app better suited to someone more acoustically inclined, like myself: Cleartune, pictured left, which turns your communications device into a pitch pipe or tuning fork.

And, yes, fans of classical music don't have to feel left out of the fun. Here's someone who must have small fingers playing a drastically reduced section from Franz Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 on two iPhones:

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'Forgive me Wagner, for I have sinned'

"Forgive me Wagner, for I have sinned."

Those words, spoken by 27-year-old Seattle resident Jeff Powell pretty much sum-up the five finalists in Seattle Opera's latest youth-marketing ploy.

The company asked would-be videographers to submit audition clips for its "Confessions of a First-Time Operagoer" competition to select a young, fresh-eared chronicler for its Ring of the Nibelungs cycle. The first performance begins Aug. 9.

In a recent press release, the company announced it had received 49 video submissions. The five finalists are posted on the company's website so that the public can choose the winner.

I can't help but think that sending a newbie to one of the most challenging operagoing experiences possible is such a great idea. Watch the videos and then try to imagine the kind of daily vlogging we're likely to see from one of these contestants. Voting closes on Friday.

Getting young audiences interested in opera and classical music is not a wouldn't-it-be-nice proposition; it's a must.

But there's a difference between gentle mentoring and, like, you know, well, like, seeing how cool the, well, like, dancing is. Oh, sorry, that's ballet.... Whatever.

Vancouver Opera is being more clever with its current video contest.

Inspired by Chicago Opera Theatre's contest earlier this spring, Vancouver Opera has issued a challenge to create a four-minute animated short featuring one of the operas from its 2009-10 season -- Norma, Nixon in China, The Marriage of Figaro and Madama Butterfly.

The Operabot contest closes Nov. 1, so there's plenty of time for people to get creative.

The entries will be posted on the company's YouTube page. The only video posted there, so far, is the one I chose for my blog on April Fool's Day.

The press release announcing the contest touted the company's various hip social-media initiatives, which include "a live, backstage twitterer."

Hmm.

Financial Times music critic Andrew Clark mused on May 29 about the current efforts by arts presenters (classical music, in particular) to be hip.

He raises many points in "Is classical music trying to be fashionable?" 

He creates a counterpoint between the "immutable" quality of the Great Works and changing tastes and fashions over the centuries. It's a nicely balanced argument.

Clark sets us up with this paragraph:

"Whether or not the YouTube Orchestra turns out to be a gimmick, it made a lot of noise in the media. In that respect it is part of a trend: the classical music industry has woken up to the fact that it must shout to be heard amid the competing noises of contemporary culture. That means downplaying the demands and subtleties and complexities of the art form and, instead, emphasising the things that make it look sexy: youth, cross-over, consumer choice, talent contests, downloads, the very same sales techniques used by popular culture."

Let the games continue.

In that spirit, here's a fun, 45-second summary of Wagner's Ring Cycle. It's in German, but don't worry if you don't understand the language:

Two cases of shrink-to-fit Rings

Soprano Danielle De Niese has chosen the winners in The Omniscient Mussel's twitter-an-opera-plot contest, proving yet again that brevity is the soul of wit.

Stephen Llewellyn's winning entry took on Wagner's Ring of the Niebelungs cycle:

There was a young lady called Fricka Who…who…*snore* “Wake up – it’s over.” It’s good, I just wish it were quicka.

It reminded me of the late music comedian Anna Russell's legendary monologue that condenses Wagner's four-opera cycle into a half-hour.

If you've never had the pleasure, sit back and enjoy this performance from Russell's First Farewell Tour in 1984. If you do know the sketch, it doesn't get any less funny on the umpteenth viewing. 

It's in three parts on YouTube:

Mahler lost in translation

This little joke has been making the rounds since April Fools Day. It appears it originated in a mock rehearsal memo to members of the New Philharmonia Orchestra (seen above), based in Newton, Mass., a leafy, old Boston suburb. (I have Alex Ross's blog, which marked its fifth anniversary yesterday, to thank for the ensuing laughter.)

The memo instructs the musicians to go over their orchestral parts for Gustav Mahler's Symphony No. 1 and write in the English translations for the following instructions he leaves in the score:

GERMAN – ENGLISH

Langsam – Slowly

Schleppend – Slowly

Dampfer auf – Slowly

Mit Dampfer – Slowly

Allmahlich in das Hauptzeitmass ubergehen – Do not look at the conductor

Im Anfang sehr gemaechlich – In intense inner torment

Alle Betonungen sehr zart - With more intense inner torment

Getheilt (geth.) – Out of tune

Von hier an in sehr allmaehlicher aber stetiger Steigerung bis zum
Zeichen – From this point on, the spit valves should be emptied with
ever-increasing emotion

Hier ist ein frisches belebtes Zeitmass eingetreten – Slowly

Haupttempo – Slowly

Noch ein wenig beschleunigend – Slowing down but with a sense of
speeding up

Immer noch zurueckhaltend - With steadily decreasing competence

Sehr gemaechlich – With indescribably horrific inner torment

Etwas bewegter, aber immer noch sehr ruhig – Somewhat louder, though still inaudible as before

Alle Betonungen sehr zart – With smallish quantities of fairly mild
inner torment

Gemaechlich – Intermission

Ganz unmerklich etwas zurueckhaltend - Slowly

Etwas gemaechlicher als zuvor – Slowly

Von hier ab unmerklich breiter werden – As if wild animals were
gnawing on your liver

Ohne cresc. – Without toothpaste

Immer noch etwas zurueckhaltend – Slowly

Vorwaerts draengend – Slowly

Hauptzeitmass - Slowly

Allmaehlich etwas lebhafter – Screaming in agony

Ohne Nachschl(age) – Without milk (sugar)

Kraeftig bewegt – Slowly

Mit dem Holze zu streichen – Like a hole in the head

Mit Parodie – Viola solo

Sehr einfach und schlicht, wie eine Volksweise – Slowly

Daempfer ab - Eyes closed

Ploetzlich viel schneller – Even more ploddingly

Den ersten Ton scharf herausgehoben – Do not play until the buzzer
sounds

Am Griffbrett – As if in tune

Aeusserst zart, aber ausdrucksvoll – Radiantly joyful, despite the
itching

Wieder zurueckhaltend - Increasingly decreasing

Noch breiter als vorher – Better late than never

Nicht eilen – No eels

Allmaehlich (unmerklich) etwas zurueckhaltend – Much faster (slower)
than conductor

Lang gestrichen – Heads up

Lang gezogen – Heads back down

Die werden allmaehlich staerker und staerker bis zum (fp) - In the
event of a water landing, your seat cushion may be used as a
flotation device

Sunday meditation

On a more serious note, here is Leonard Bernstein guiding the listener through Mahler's Symphony No. 9: He describes the final movement (marked Adagio and "Sehr langsam und noch zurückhaltend" -- which translates as "very slowly and cautiously") as "the closest thing we have in Western music to intense transcendental meditation.":