A long night's night!

Sometime the world of the badly drawn comic seems much closer to the real world than is comfortable in an ordered existence.

Yesterday, when already weakened from the musical onslaught of the first two acts of Die Walküre, my resolve to stay to the end was almost destroyed when the eponymous ladies walked, no, marched? invaded? conquered? sequestered? the stage.

One of them, who appeared to have been made of metal, glided on to the stage with a frightening gracelessness and to my horrified eyes appeared to have breasts on both sides of her body – front and back! Her hair was plastered down on top in a stern parting which then found its escape in a frizzled explosion of hair above her ears. Her sisters, in a variety of luridly coloured dresses were equally intimidating and when they rose from their chairs in this concert performance in the Gran Teatre del Liceu and advanced threateningly towards the audience to ‘Hojotoho!’ and ‘Heiaha!’ at us there was an appreciable shrinking back of the audience in their seats!

But the evening for me changed its course when I bought a programme, flicked it open to the cast list and discovered that the role of Seigmund was going to be sung by Plácido Domingo! Presumably that was the reason, back in July of last year that I was prepared to pay over €130 for a ticket for a concert performance of an opera I didn’t really know. Still it came as a little surprise.

As the Greatest Tenor of All Time (BBC Music Magazine April 2008) you are entitled to expect a lot. Born in 1941 (or earlier as some say) he is over retirement age but the voice that I heard last night was confident, rich and expressive. The role of Seigmund is one which could rip a voice to pieces, and at the top and bottom of his range there were signs of strain, but the performance was assured and from his first notes there was an authority in his presentation that was instantly beguiling.

Hunding (René Pape) and Wotan (Alan Held) were worthy protagonists on stage, but the singers in many of the other roles were less impressive.

I found Sieglinde (Waltraud Meier) unimpressive – though I have to admit that I was a placid oasis of restrained clapping for her performance amid a turbulent sea of hysterical shouts of approval when she came on to accept her plaudits and lethally aimed flowers! While some of her register was expressive and attractive she had a disturbingly throaty and nasal sound which was repulsive.

Brünnhilde (Evelyn Herlitzius) was physically unlike her sisters, had an attractive stage presence and created a dramatic partnership in her singing with Wotan – but again I found her voice unattractive and unsettling. Yet again I was a single restrained minority of one as the audience went wild at the end of her singing.

Fricka (Jane Henschel) gave a magisterial performance with a voice full of passion and hurt pride.

The orchestra under Sebastian Weigle was excellent though I have to say that some of the ensemble work was a little ragged, especially with some of the more prominent entries of the brass. I also found that ‘the famous bit’ or ‘Ride of the Valkires’ lacked the musical excitement that I have come to expect from this orchestra and I often found many of the tempi slow to the point of irritation, but in the relentless flow of music that is this opera I thought the orchestra did well.

The performance started at 8.00 pm and I got out of the theatre at 1.15 am! During one part of Act II I began to wish for easeful death as the only escape from what seemed like an interminable musical prison – but I bucked up and managed to see the ordeal through to the end!

I have to say that were Wagner himself to come back from the dead to conduct together with all the great singers from the past to take the roles in one of his operas – this is the last time that I go to see a concert performance of an opera.

For me the dramatic interpretation through direction, scenery, costumes and lighting of a great work is a major element, or perhaps the major element in my enjoyment of opera. Even the excitement of hearing live singing and a live orchestra playing do not compensate for the lack of the visual and intellectual stimulation of the complete experience. And it was expensive – even if Plácido was singing! And even if Plácido is iconic enough to have made a role in The Simpsons

it is still not enough.

Before the performance I ensured that I arrived in Barcelona in good time so that I could park the car and perhaps just happen to drift into a certain shop.

Who is of such paper thin resolve that his whole life can become unsettled by the mere glimpse of a picture of a reasonably priced mini laptop computer?

What sort of person can admit that his reserves of self control can be brushed away by the simple proximity of an electronic gadget? Who can be such a creature controlled by the base instincts of transistorised acquisition?

Alas, I can only echo the plaintive cry of the Infant Samuel and say, ‘Here am I lord!’

The Asus mini computer has been the seed of discontent sown in my mind and all has become as ashes as my untrammelled desire for a needful thing has overshadowed the more important things that I should be doing, like marking the hysterically guessed answers that my other worldly maths set has produced.

Talking of which: I have put of marking until the very last minute (or day) and this Sunday; this Sunday evening, is probably the time when everything will get done.

Please!