Sparsely, like parsley

Yeah, I haven't been blogging up a storm lately. I just haven't been feeling bloggy. This is not exactly me throwing in the towel, but I think the summer is going to be lean times, word-wise.

For the record it looks like the end of the season for me will have been last night's Fille, in which everyone was loosened up as if it were closing night, which I am told it wasn't. Madame Palmer chose "Pour mon ame" as her surprise for the little improvised scene. This scene was actually funnier when it didn't go on quite so long, but the immediate impact of hearing her sing the tenor aria was good for a laugh from the gut; the improvised line following, "C'est bien, Madame, mais mieux avec un tenor," good for an amused smirk and self-inflicted pat on the back for understanding that much French. One performance left--I'm rooting for Klytamnestra's nightmare monologue, though it has been suggested that "I am the Wife of Mao Tse Tung" would be a daring choice as well.

Barry Banks, in for his scheduled cover's-one-off, proved once again that he is more or less the equal of the flashier presence for whom he waits, poorly bewigged, in the wings. Seriously the wig was bad, or so it looked from standing room (for there I was, as if a younger man.) Anyway maybe the voice is a notch quieter than Florez, and his French probably the same little bit off. But to my ear, he sings with an extra soupcon d'elegance, an extra dash of dash. If I were one for having a private snit in public, I might say for all the controversy over singers and their weight, there is none over singers and their height. A short tenor simply doesn't get the starring spot, so there's no controversy to be had. But then Florez is no giant, so maybe I'm barking up the wrong sycamore. Whatever the case, he was given a star's welcome by the assembled public.

Dessay sounded tired, but not seriously diminished. My god, the unhealthy fantasies I begin to have about that woman, no not that kind, but of hearing her sing Tatiana or Violetta, things that might break her in the big hall, just because she is of all our sopranos the most alert, mercurial, dare I say smart.

I have a few drafts sitting patiently on their hands, something half-baked about Terfel, &c. And I still might go to Hazmikbeth even though the Lady in question did not overwhelm, Siriusly speaking. The trouble is there's very little to throw one's hat in the air about this summer. Krol Roger at Bard might be an interesting novelty, but there it sits on my desktop, unbelistened, despite the kindness of him who sent it for sending it. Glimmerglass is a bit of a wash, and so on, and so on. Anyway I'm supposed to be working on this miniseries about Germaine Lubin.

Also Gencer has passed from among us so what, really, is there left to say?