Emerging, Blinking
And now the piano-vocal of Act Two is completed. (One emerges, blinking, from the studio to realize New York is still here. Concerts! Restaurants! Other people!) So, after J’s piece with the Philharmonic and the the nonpareil Stephanie Blythe, it’s off to The MacDowell Colony for the month of October to orchestrate: then back to the city in November for the new session of ALT.
The Sun Didn’t Set
Back from Russia: J was serving on the violin jury of the Tchaikovsky Competition (maybe one day he’ll tell you that story) in St. Petersburg and Moscow, and, having finished my first act, I felt entitled to join him for ten white nights. Highlights; I got to meet (and J to reconnect with) enchanting Renata Scotto, who might have sung the first Marie Antoinette in The Ghosts of Versailles had the stars aligned, and Anne-Sophie Mutter, to celebrate her birthday, invited us all on the boat she took on the Neva, so we saw the glittering bridges yawn open at 2:00 in the morning, which is the thing one does in St. Petersburg in June. Somehow, I endured. Now, back to Act Two.
Lysistrata in Fort Worth
It was on, it was off, it was on, it was off, but now it’s announced: Fort Worth Opera, having weathered the financial crises of the past three years with determination, style, and an unwavering commitment to new work, has scheduled a new Lysistrata for next May. I’m particularly delighted, as it was in David Gateley’s smart and impassioned production for the young artists of the Seagle Colony in 2008 that the finale of the opera played as it never had before: David, who produced a rich and moving Little Women for the same company in 2005, will leading this version as well, and the company’s stalwart music director Joe Illick will conduct. More here.
Prepositions and the Names of Fish
When New York City Opera toured Japan a few years back with Madama Butterfly and Little Women, Matthew Price, the tour’s organizer, informed me that, in any language, the two parts of speech most difficult to translate are —my God, you’re uncanny!—prepositions and the names of fish; and I immediately promised, someday, to write a piece with that title. Hence, my wee scherzo for Cabrillo, to celebrate the great Marin Alsop‘s twentieth year as leader of that indispensable festival: I’m delighted to be included in some very distinguished company. The Times takes note, and takes names, here.