In Alan Bennett's hit play of 2006 in Great Britain and subsequently on Broadway, "The History Boys", an 18 year old student is asked to define history. Sullenly, he replies: "It seems to be just one fucking thing after another, sir".
If the same boy were asked to define opera, he might say the same, substituting "thing" for "tune". And he wouldn't be entirely wrong. No where did it seem more pertinent than on the opening night of Verdi's
Don Carlos, which, with a chorus of 72, is the BIGGY opera for the Royal Opera Chorus this season.
Although many people recognise
La Traviata or
Aida better and although many consider
Otello and
Falstaff to be Verdi's finest achievements,
Don Carlos is just full of one glorious melody from start to finish. It is an opera, which as chorus master, I have never come in to contact with so when I returned from my sojourn on foreign shores working on a very different piece, listening and watching it felt a little like being asked to taste a dozen different types of the very best Bordeaux has to offer ( I guess; it's never happened). One of the recurrent and most energising aspects of this job is being introduced to new music and thereby being reminded on the wealth that must still waiting to be heard. It never ceases to amaze me of the sheer variety that composers are able to muster out of the 12 modest tones that make up the chromatic scale.
The other amazing thing coming back, although I cannot honestly say I was not aware it was happening, was that
The Tales of Hoffmann which opened on 8th September, and which the chorus started learning in May, was still running. Tonight I am happy to announce it is the last performance. And I can also say that the chorus is very pleased about it too. So much so they are giving it a farewell party in their new common room. Don't get me wrong, they don't think it's awful or anything, but there have been quite a lot of them to do and the men are, quite literally, on stage from beginning to end - 19 30 till about 22 45 - it's a long evening!
Bohème is coming to an end soon, which along with
Don Carlos, will make for some new offerings. Two are without chorus - so they are off limits on this blog! Well, one is. Mozart's
Lucio Silla has chorus in it - one bit at the end, where we find ourselves in the not unusal situation of rejoicing because an erstwhile baddy leader has become enlightened. So we are going to rejoice for about 5 minutes in D major (a good key for trumpets!) - ON TAPE! Quite tricky - since halfway through, the real live soloists, not to be outdone in the final number of the piece, also put in their two-penny-worth, and to make sure the transition between recording to live sound and back again with no inadvertent silences or sudden changes of tempo we have to thank our sound technicians. After a couple of quick rehearsals with me and then with the conductor we go to the so-called Sang-Orkester rehearsal (where singers, soloists and chorus, meet the orchestra for the first time in a rehearsal room) and the sound technicians will be there to record us, if not for posterity, then for this season's show and any revival. So if you go to the show, we'll be there in sound but not in body.
A new offering with real live chorus however is the return of Carl Nielsen's
Maskarade which we started re-rehearsing this week. We did it only last year, and quite a few performances, so we try and put it back on with the minimum amount of rehearsal to leave more time for the new pieces. It opens again on the 7th December. See what I mean? All up and running in two weeks. And if anybody thinks that sounds like neglect of a Danish masterpiece, I might reassure you by saying that the soloists, who have much more to do than, also have much more rehearsal.
Right, I'm off. Duty calls and it's my last chance to see the ladies' chorus rise up out of the floor of the stage in their bathing attire. Catch you later.
Philip White