Hey, My Picture Was in The New York Times Again

There I am! See there, about 20 rows back...the white guy in the hat. The Times is reporting an all-time record turnout: 75,000. I'll post my pictures tomorrow. If I find the energy to download them.

Here was my first appearance in the Grey Lady.

Opera Review: Aida

With Verdi's monumental spectacle Aida, Portland Opera nicely redeemed itself from its disastrous Rodelinda in February, closing out the 2007-08 season with its all-around best production of the year.

Musically this performance was at a very high level. Under conductor Vjekoslav Sutej, the Portland Opera Orchestra played better than I have ever heard them. There were many thrilling moments throughout the evening; the brass section, especially, was outstanding. He is a great partner for the singers, understanding the give-and-take nature of Italian opera, driving the orchestra but also letting the singers breathe comfortably and shape their own phrases. I also thought it was a nice gesture when he raised his hands over his head, plainly visible, to join the rest of us in applause following soprano Lisa Daltirus' formidable "O patria mia."

If I might be allowed one teeny complaint: the eerily beautiful hymn to Ftah at the close of the first act was taken too fast; done a bit slower, it has a marvelous hypnotic, other-worldly quality that was lacking, even with Sharin Apostolou's radiant cameo as the offstage priestess.

In the title role, Daltirus gave a passionate performance, expressive and traditional in the best sense of the word. Her high notes had a tendency to pierce rather than soar, but she did everything the score required of her, including a tight but sufficiently pianissimo high-C in act three. From the first scene, she effectively conveyed that Aida is trapped in a no-win situation that grows increasingly desperate. I brought three neophyte friends with me who were all convinced that it would turn out well in the end, and were quite distressed by the tragic ending.

As the hero Radames, tenor Philip Webb had a stellar night. Okay, not a great actor, but the role of Radames is a powerhouse demanding great stamina, alternating between ringing high notes, forceful declamatory passages, and tender lyric singing: he had it all. Far and away, he was the best Radames I've ever heard live. Though he took a little bit of time to warm up into "Celeste Aida" -- easily forgiven -- by the end of the first act he sounded great, and he stayed strong all the way to the end, including a heroic "Io resto a te!" at the end of the third act.

Early on, I was worried about mezzo-soprano Leann Sandel-Pantaleo as Amneris; she seemed in control, but I felt her voice was maybe two sizes too small to be right for the role. True, she is not a force-of-nature mezzo a la Dolora Zajick, but it turned out she was smartly husbanding her resources, singing expressively but conservatively until the fourth act when she absolutely let it rip. Girlfriend tore it up. Fantastic.

Bass-baritone Greer Grimsley has one of my favorite voices: deep and dark, but full of character and ping -- and power! Yet I had to admit, I did not care much for the way he plowed through the lyrical arioso "Ma tu re" that begins the second act finale. Keith Miller's Ramfis was sturdy and effective. As the king, bass Jeffrey Beruan was not up to the task.

The understaffed Portland Opera Chorus did their best; there are some subpar voices among the male singers, but they managed to summon sufficient volume for the big scenes and were actually quite impressive in the many sotto voce passages.

The production...oh, well...hmmm. I think SMB put it best in his review in JustOut. I'm not sure I would say it was "tired" so much as...well...remember in my Rodelinda review when I said minimalism works great for Handel? It sucks for Aida. I don't care how many times you play "spin the birdy," it's still the same set. For four hours. The giant moon they flew in for Act III looked like an enormous chocolate chip cookie.

The costumes were almost okay, but I had a real problem with Amneris in heels and a Victorian bustle. I mean, huh? Aida's first-act costume, with what appeared to be a bedsheet from the sale bin at K-Mart used as a sash, was unpersuasive. The triumphal scene supers, with their cheap, ratty wigs and uneven, splotchy, red-brown body paint in a shade that no human being has actually ever been looked pretty terrible.

In pointing out another critic's error in his review, SMB notes that choreographer Penelope Freeh was only recreating the dance moves originally conceived by James Sewell for this production's premiere a decade ago at the Minnesota Opera. That's no excuse. The choreography was a disgrace. Tacky, amateurish, and gauche. The battle recreation, complete with gang-rape, in the triumphal scene was embarrassing and offensive, and just altogether out of place.

Despite that, it was a thoroughly entertaining evening of an overall quality that greatly surpassed the season's earlier offerings.

Obama's "White Problem"

Barack Obama handed Hillary Clinton another stinging primary defeat in a predominantly white state this week.

What's that, you say?

Oh, no, I'm not talking about West Virginia.

I'm talking about 92% white Nebraska, where Obama downed Clinton 49-46 on Tuesday night.

You probably didn't hear about it, because it wasn't widely reported. In fact, do a Google news search for "Nebraska Primary" and you only get local tv and regional newspapers mentioning it.

Why the media silence? Well perhaps, as Omaha's Channel 3 News put it, "today's presidential primary does not mean much in the scheme of things. Nebraska Democrats already gave Obama a solid win in the February Caucuses."

So, basically, since it doesn't change the dynamics of the race at all, there's no real point in making a big deal over it.

Unlike West Virginia, where Hillary Clinton picked up a whopping net gain of 12 delegates, narrowing Obama's lead to a mere 180.

No, no, the "real story" is that Obama has difficulty winning white voters, as clearly illustrated by the way he won Nebraska.

Twice.

I'm afraid when Hillary says that Obama can't win the "white vote," she's talking about these people.



Clinton argues Democrats can't win the White House in November without white people who are afraid of black candidates and those who insist Obama is a Muslim, all evidence to the contrary.

Well, can we at least try? Please?

Being Intentional

Two weeks ago I headed off to the Oregon Coast on a personal retreat, with the idea that I would spend some time in prayer and meditation, brainstorming about professional goals and means of obtaining them.

You know, my life has been in a total tailspin for the last five years, since acid reflux forced me to abandon my operatic ambitions. My entire personal identity was bound up in my singing career, and without it, I simply didn't know who I was. I had absolutely no back-up plan, no idea what else I might even want to do.

I knew I could make decent money working as an admin in corporate finance, but it soon became abundantly clear that is a toxic environment for me. I accepted a similar position with a non-profit gay rights organization, but while I loved the work, the compensation just wasn't sufficient for someone entering his 30s who had student loans to pay and, having frittered away his 20s pursuing the limelight, no savings or investments. Also, as much as I loved the organization, I was wrong to have hoped it was a foot-in-the-door that would allow me to transition to a more interesting role. I would never have had the training or experience required for one of the jobs in education and outreach, which is where I yearned to be.

I needed to leave New York. New York was its own complex problem, but largely it was a city haunted by the ghosts of my unrealized singing ambitions, and I needed to put some distance between myself and the glorious, invigorating, exhausting chaos of Manhattan in order to think.

Okay. So, I've been in Oregon a year now. Voila, I'm back to being an admin in corporate finance. Now, I work for a very good company and have a very good job, but...let's be honest. My heart's not in it. The money and benefits are great, but I get no joy from it. Still, in the short term, it's exactly what I wanted, because even if life right now is utterly meaningless, I at least have a decent apartment, am paying all my own bills, paying down the debt, investing for the future, and have a reasonable hope of getting a Honda Civic Hybrid by early fall.

But this can't be permanent. There's no way "up" at this job, either, and even if there were, it's not in a direction I'd want to go.

Some of you have suggested that I'm being rather too vague about my professional intentions, but it wasn't on purpose. I needed to do two things. One, I needed to really clarify in my mind and heart what it is I want to do. Second, I needed to give myself permission to go after it. Maybe that last part sounds strange, but somewhere along the line I picked up this odd notion that what one ought to do and what one wants to do are usually at odds with one another, and that practical, sensible people all value the former over the latter.

So here's my idea. And this, I'm sure, is going to be met with a resounding, "Well, duh!" from regular readers, but what I really want to do is work as an advocate for gay people in the faith community. I see that as having two distinct dimensions: the first is reaching out to gay people who have been either incredibly wounded by the church or to those who are unsure that there are churches who will take them and love them, just as they are; the second is reaching out to more general audiences and presenting a face to them, so that this issue of gay people and faith isn't an abstract one. In particular, I envision myself visiting churches and doing Q&A sessions with skeptical (but not hostile) audiences.

For the last many months, that's all been so much of a lovely fantasy. Let's be honest. I'm a secretary with a master's degree in classical voice. Not exactly the skill/experience set that's going to make me a competitive candidate for such a position. All right. So, what I needed was to try to gain some experience in community organizing and outreach at the volunteer level and just hope that maybe it will lead to something.

But how to even get that far?

Right before I left for the coast, however, I read a letter from my parish rector (currently on sabbatical in South America) who was talking about his own recent experiences and remarked, "But that's the wonderful thing about being intentional about things. Once we decide to do something, the opportunities start presenting themselves."

So, off to the beach I went, where for four days I kept the daily office, and as a part of that I improvised my own liturgical segment of declaring my intention at every session: I want to be a professional advocate for gay people within the faith community.

Tonight after work I went downtown to the cathedral for a meeting to discuss coordination for a delegation from my parish to meet up with their group to march in the Portland Pride parade on June 15. This is the first time that my church will participate in the event.

At that meeting I was invited to join a new committee that will establish an outreach program, sending an LGBT person or ally to various parishes in rural Oregon to talk about gay issues in the Episcopal church.

Swish!

Today was rough at work. The last thing I wanted to do was turn on the TV and watch the pundits pointlessly debate whether Hillary's big win in West Virginia means anything. (It doesn't. Even if she'd gotten 100% of the vote, she'd gain 28 delegates against his 165 delegate lead. Big whoop. And then they'll talk about Barack's "problems" with the "white vote." Well, next week is Oregon, baby. We have a 1.9% black population, and Obama is up here by 20 points. Oh, and Oregon has 65 delegates. Did I mention West Virginia has 28? Yeah.)

Anyway, so I figured I'd come home and watch a movie. Instead, to my unending joy, in my mailbox I found a package from Amazon.com.

My copy of Swish: My Quest to Become the Gayest Person Ever had arrived!

Today is the official release of this wonderful new book by my good friend (and mentor, confidante, cheerleader) Joel Derfner, author of the marvelous blog The Search for Love in Manhattan (as well as the hilarious Gay Haiku), known to regular readers of this blog as Faustus, M.D.

I was privileged to read a couple of chapters in advance (and he was kind enough to put me in the acknowledgments for some perspective I gave him on one chapter), and I cannot wait to read the rest. And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to settle into my easy chair and dig in.

Hopefully Starbuck has left me some Cosmopolitan.

Opera Review: F Me!

I often notice that no matter how well I think I know an opera, each time I see it I discover something new and wonderful. With Bellini's I Puritani, I continue to find new levels of ridiculousness.

Don't get me wrong: I love this opera. It just makes no sense. Why is Elvira the last person to know she's marrying Arturo? Her uncle persuaded her father, who told Riccardo, and obviously someone told Arturo because he's on his way, yet poor Elvira is moping about the castle because it's her wedding day and she thinks she's stuck with Riccardo. She's being fitted for her gown before her uncle finally tells her she gets to marry her true love. You can't fuck with a soprano's emotions like that; no wonder she's an hour away from losing her sanity. Unless the singing is fantastic, there just isn't much point in mounting this work.

Which brings me to Seattle Opera's current production. I have little expectation that I will ever hear Bellini's last opera sung that well again. Even the chorus was amazing.

It wasn't totally flawless. Conductor Edoardo Müller's tempi were not always as energetic as they could have been, and throughout the evening there were ensemble issues, especially uncertain attacks in the orchestra and a lack of coordination between stage and pit. The orchestra sounded marvelous most of the time, however, aided by McCaw Hall's fantastic acoustics.

Soprano Norah Amsellem took on the role of the fragile heroine Elvira. She's not the most effective actress (admittedly, in Puritani she's got a lot working against her), and above the staff her voice has a tendency to sound swallowed; when chorus and orchestra are in full cry, even her highest notes don't cut through. Still, when she's hanging out all by herself, her high D's and E-flats are sustained effortlessly to the double bar, squarely on pitch. It is thrilling when the climax of the great scena "Qui la voce" is sung with such total security.

Bass John Relyea had a great night as her uncle Giorgio. With his rich, sonorous voice, he displayed incredible breath control and alignment in his aria, and tossed out a high G and even an A-flat at the end of the second act that would be the envy of many a baritone. His partner in that muscular duet, baritone Mariusz Kwiecien as Riccardo was...well, competent seems like a terrible word to apply to someone with such a beautiful voice and exemplary technique, but alas, he really is a very uninteresting performer.

Then there was Lawrence Brownlee as Arturo. There are tenors out there who can sing this impossible role; Brownlee, probably alone in the world, was born to. Good grief. "Secure" doesn't even begin to describe his technique. He is supremely musical, able to invest Bellini's long, sensuous lines with passion and elegance. His Italianate style and diction is spot-on; an extraordinarily round and warm "ah" vowel for such a high tenor. And speaking of high...

Forget the treacherous C-sharp in the opening aria, or the perilous D's in the oft-transposed (not this time!) third-act duet. I had read in the reviews of the premiere that he actually took the written F above high C in the final ensemble, a ridiculous, impossible tone that is almost always ignored for eminently practical reasons. I was hoping he'd try it again, dying of curiosity to hear what it would sound like. Well, he didn't "try." I don't want to make it sound like he daringly attempted this note. The man took a deep breath, raised his head, and released an absolutely astonishing, full-voice, sustained, perfect high F. Freakshow! Awesome.

Alas, if the intermission chatter was any indication, his overall impression was hampered somewhat by an unfortunate wig that made him look like James Brown and his diminutive stature. I tried to convince my companion that when you get someone who can sing like that, it doesn't matter what they look like. He's a fine-looking young man, just petite. It is true, though, that when he made his third act entrance wrapped in a cloak, it looked like there was a Hobbit onstage.

UPDATE: Someone YouTubed (audio only) Brownlee's high F from last night's performance! check it out!!!

Let Her Run

I've changed my mind: I believe Hillary Clinton should continue to run through the last primary on June 3.

It drives me crazy to say that, of course. What's the point? Mathematically, there is no scenario in which she can overtake Barack Obama. As of today, he's even passed her in superdelegates. Go ahead, throw in Michigan and Florida, as completely inappropriate and underhanded as that is. It won't change the outcome. And oh, the wasted money. I mean, you look at the tragedy in Myanmar and then consider that we're continuing to spend millions of dollars prolonging a contest that's clearly over and it makes your heart sick.

Still, I think there's a good reason for her to stay in the race and, believe it or not, that has to do with party unity.

Yes, the long, dragged out fight is raising tensions and sharpening the divide between the fans of the two candidates. However, I think there's a chance that some healing could come from letting the primaries run their course. If Hillary continues to campaign, she will go ahead and pick up her predicted wins in West Virginia, Kentucky and Puerto Rico. Barack probably has Montana and South Dakota sewn up, and Oregon's in the bag. In fact, according to the anticipated math, it's Oregon that will put him over the 2,025 total delegates needed and give him the nomination on May 20.* There is nothing, truly, that Hillary can do to change that. (And she can't even claim that our 1.9% black population somehow skewed the results in his favor in a manner that can't be reproduced on a national scale.)

If we let her do her thing, collect her Pyrrhic victories, she still comes up short, but then her supporters will be able to see that she lost the primary fair and square. If we force her out now -- even, admittedly, as she has no chance -- that's going to leave a bitter taste in some mouths and make it just that much harder to move forward together against McCain.

* LawFairy corrected me in the comments. On May 20, the number of delegates remaining to be awarded will be fewer than the difference between Obama and Clinton. So, not 2025, but still, end-game.

First Church of Mohammed?

So, let me get this straight.

After all the media frenzy over Jeremiah Wright, Barack Obama's former pastor at the Trinity United Church of Christ, the guy who baptized his children, some people still think Obama is a Muslim.

The mind reels.

Living La Vida Yachats

So, I wrote this long post detailing my adventures at the beach this weekend, but I thought maybe I could succinctly summarize it thusly:

1. Wake, without benefit of alarm clock, at dawn
2. Walk on the deserted beach at low tide
3. Morning Prayer
4. Breakfast
5. Shower/dress
6. Walk into town for coffee/groceries
7. Read/study
8. Noonday prayer
9. Lunch
10. Read/study
11. Long nap
12. Beach walk
13. Evening prayer
14. Dinner
15. Light fire, open wine bottle
16. Read/study
17. Compline
18. Rinse (in the jacuzzi tub), sleep/repeat

And now, a few photographs:

I don't know what this flower is, but looks oddly tropical to me.

The view from my hotel room.

Sunrise on the beach.

Sand Dollars can be friggin' huge.

Or teensy-weensy.

The Saturday morning storm.

Followed by evening sunshine, which turned the sea into a gleaming silver mirror.