Notes on Notes

The Star Is Sick

Metropolitan Opera press updates announcing cast withdrawals and substitutions arrive more than once a week.  It's disappointing and frustrating for ticket buyers, and Peter Gelb says he spends a lot of time talking to singers who say they are ill.

On the other hand, what happens if they go on, knowing they're not at their best?  It's a question Jessye Norman was not the only one to address.  Opera fans are legendary about showing disgust.  And poor reviews can dog a singer for years, hurting future career opportunities.

If performers are not on top of their game, and they cancel, an inferior performance won't take place, and fans will be eager to see them when they do show up. 

What about admitting illness and asking for understanding?  Well, everyone listens closely for defects, fans are still disappointed, and critics mention it near the top of their reviews.

I suppose, if a singer doesn't feel good about appearing, the audience can stay on the up side by paying attention to the substitute who has been longing for this moment, and is overjoyed by the chance to be the new star.  It happens.

 

the decline of accuracy

Perhaps it is the speed of the Internet culture.  Most press releases I now receive have mistakes, and placing a value on the mistake is a subjective matter.  It might be a typo (or 3), or a misspelling--including of a composer's name or name of piece--or an incorrect time and date.  Only occasionally do I highlight it, hit reply and say oops, or make a question mark.  I don't bother when there are just a couple, tho occasionally I suggest that they run spellcheck before blanketing the music world with mistakes.

Most of these people, when I meet them at press check-in desks, turn out to be young pretty women.  Certainly nothing is said at these make-nice moments.

Sometimes they apologize by email.  I don't know what they do after that.  But I suppose it's everywhere.  It's on signs teachers hang in school elevators (and others post in residential elevators) and on store announcements of specials.

All this hooha about no child left behind;  certainly old values have been left behind, and maybe the prevailing wind is, "So who cares about old values?"  Maybe this is part of being a certifiable old bat.  You grouse, and nothing changes.

 

Money is a kind of poetry.– Wallace Stevens

Money, the long green,
cash, stash, rhino, jack
or just plain dough.

Chock it up, fork it over,
shell it out. Watch it
burn holes through pockets.

To be made of it! To have it
to burn! Greenbacks, double eagles,
megabucks and Ginnie Maes.

It greases the palm, feathers a nest,
holds heads above water,
makes both ends meet.

Money breeds money.
Gathering interest, compounding daily.
Always in circulation.

Money. You don't know where it's been,
but you put it where your mouth is.
And it talks.

from The Gods of Winter
© 1991 Dana Gioia