At the time of writing, my website is down: it currently says access ibis forbidden in big letters. I fear this may have caused some of you to conclude that I blocked you from my website. I assure you that A. this would go against every one of my beliefs apropos the freedom of information and speech, and B. I wouldn’t know how to block anyone, even if I wanted to. Rather, I suspect certain people have neglected to transfer certain monies to certain Web Space companies. [update – it was a nasty little virus that did it. Prase be to Luke for fixing it.]

Anyway, last night I went again to the opera. This was part of my ongoing ambition to experience as much culture as possible: I want to see as many art forms as possible, just as I would like to eat as many different types of food as possible and go to as many countries as possible. As john Donne once wrote ‘to live in one contrie is captivitie’; I have merely taken this slightly further. I want to remain open minded, never dismissing anything until I have experienced it.

The opera strikes me as a rather exotic, very cool art form. It is rather strange in that it’s communication system bears very little resemblance to the normal forms of communication. Baring dad’s tuneful, but often obscene, outbursts of tuneful displeasure, we do not often sing to communicate. Yet, as any philologist will tell you, language is beautifully tuneful, so the opera can be seen as a mere extension of a certain aspect of language. And how beautiful this extension is: a phrase, when spoken, may be beautiful, but a phrase, when sang, can be exquisite.

Last night’s performance of Puccini’s La Rondine at the Royal Northern College of music was indeed exquisite. The first thing to note is the sheer power of the performers on stage: they are all around my age, but they have vocal power enough to fill a huge auditorium without electronic assistance. Even though one knows these people are, for all intents and purposes, professional singers, I am still amazed by their sheer talent. But then, this is the RNCM – should I expect anything less? The sets were lavish, the acting faultless.

Now, in classicism it is often necessary to separate style and content. The content of Puccini’s opera is not the best. It is ostensibly the story of a kept woman falling temporarily in love with a young student, running off with him, and when his money is gone, returning to her sugar daddy in Paris. It is thus very cynical, which is why it was slated by critics upon it’s debut. Nevertheless, the denouement when Magda reveals she cannot marry Ruggero (”Let the grief be mine”) is quite simply astonishing in it’s beauty. It was quite, quite moving and it was impossible not to feel spellbound.

thus the style outweighed, I felt,, the content. I have a huge respect for RNCM: the whole evening was enjoyable, and the college is very professional. Even the interval wine wasn’t bad, although it was a little expensive. I intend to go to more, but not for some time – there are other art forms I want to experience. Next, I think, is dance.

Nevertheless, ii shall end with a quote, not from the opera, but a play: ‘If music be the food of love, play on.” [naff ending – ed]