The season at the Met is over, so you sorry motherfuckers will have to miss out (for now), but I'm gonna tell you anyway:
Janáček's The Makropulos Case with Karita Mattila is first-rate entertainment. She's a funny, sexy bitch with a great set of pipes. Can't wait to hear her sing again.
Billy Budd is yet another spectacular piece of work by Ben Britten. The fine Nathan Gunn has no need to strip naked the way most stage directors dig. He and his voice are sexy enough. Never heard the Englishman John Daszak before (not in recordings, broadcast or live), and I sure would like to hear him again, as Captain Vere or whatever. John Claggart, Master-at-Arms is the dangerous kind of shitbird that should make anybody think twice about harassing gay men. Old man James Morris hits it out the park as that mean nothingfucker. Not all operas are great for the choristers, but this one is absolute aces. They live for productions like this, and it shows. It was the first time I've heard an audience yell their fucking heads off for the choristers at curtain call, and I was screaming my best. The score is demanding, with lots of high exposed lines for the horns and other assorted wind instruments. The weakest part, and my only complaint, was that one of the greatest orchestras in the world couldn't quite get it perfect like I'm used to. I guess they just need to play this fine work more often.
We are miserable sinners,