Ophelia snores.
And she does it while sleeping on my bed, sometimes even up by my head.
Alright, so it's more of a whistle and it's really cute, but still, can't I use that as a valid excuse for why I cannot manage to get to bed before midnight?
No? Yeah, I didn't figure anyone would go for it. I'm hoping that Ophelia is behaving herself outside right now and that perhaps the weather (I can hear the rain over my stereo) will drive her in before 6am tomorrow. By behaving I mean I hope I don't get another gift of mouse, snake or bird on the stairs in the morning.
Oh, so, completely unrelated but completely disconcerting: I went to a YSSO concert with my friend this evening (ahhhh, memories!!! I miss Youth Symphony so much! My conductor hasn't changed a bit, which was lovely.) and the conductor dedicated Les Preludes by Liszt to a former YSSO violist who had just passed away from cancer, and the girl (woman) who died was someone I had gone to high school with and played in orchestra with for years!!! I had no idea that she was even back in the valley, much less that she had died. And she was 26 or something. I don't want to really wax rhapsodic about it and the frailty of life, etc., because I never seem to manage to convey the wonder of life and how fleeting it really is and how often we take it for granted. *pause* I don't remember life being this ironic when I was a little girl.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Friday, February 01, 2008
Opera and the common man
I was listening to podcasts today at work, my new absolute favorite way to keep up with the world and ignore the world at the same time, when I clicked into an "At Your Leisure" from late November. The gentleman was interviewing a man named Paul Potts, from Britain, who had won their equivalent of "American Idol".... singing opera. They chatted for a while and I found myself becoming more and more intrigued with this story. Mr. Potts was a cell phone salesman from Cardiff, Wales, who had finally decided to audition for the show by flipping a coin. I knew that the wonder that is YouTube was bound to have something like this, and so I searched. This is what I found:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1k08yxu57NA
I nearly cried at work. This ordinary, common man stood in front of an audience and judges that were ready to chuck him (see the look on Simon's face at the beginning?) and he wound up winning. Against all the Cari Underwoods, the Chad Whatsises, and pop star wanna-bes, he won. It reminded me so much of the concert at Campmeeting when Daniela and Buck stood up to sing and everyone knew that she had the voice, but we were just expecting another nice but nothing out of the ordinary duet, when this miracle happened and the most incredible, beautiful voice appeared when Buck began to sing. Melodie and Joel were sitting on either side of me and we all collectively sat up and then slumped back in shock and awe, I think. The triumph of this plain, common man singing opera just made my day.
It also reminded me of something that has always gotten under my skin. People go on and on and on about how boring classical music is and how it has no soul, but I have to say that classical music is the only music that has ever made me cry just with the pure emotion it carries. Now, don't get me wrong, some classical music is dead dull and I adore most other kinds of music (with a few notable exceptions) but there is something about live classical music that cuts past the drudgery of everyday life and reaches into my soul. I've had bluegrass and rock musicians tell me that classical music just doesn't make them feel anything, that it's really just dead white man's music. They have obviously never listened to Shostakovich's Fifth Symphony, or Respighi's "Pines of Rome," or almost anything by Tchaikovsky or Rachmaninoff. And as for singing French Romantic songs..... well, let's just say I have to do so sparingly, because I've never found another kind of music that could lay me bare to the world while I sang. I love my hymns, and I love solid worship songs, and there are spirituals that make me feel like I'm about to fly through the roof but there's just something about opera. That's it, I'm going to go sing Barber's "Sure on This Shining Night." Pleasant dreams, everyone!
PS Listening to Pavarotti reminds me so much of listening to Sam Jensen, which I promise isn't as heretical as it sounds, but Sam's high notes in his heyday were truly incredible. I've heard recordings.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1k08yxu57NA
I nearly cried at work. This ordinary, common man stood in front of an audience and judges that were ready to chuck him (see the look on Simon's face at the beginning?) and he wound up winning. Against all the Cari Underwoods, the Chad Whatsises, and pop star wanna-bes, he won. It reminded me so much of the concert at Campmeeting when Daniela and Buck stood up to sing and everyone knew that she had the voice, but we were just expecting another nice but nothing out of the ordinary duet, when this miracle happened and the most incredible, beautiful voice appeared when Buck began to sing. Melodie and Joel were sitting on either side of me and we all collectively sat up and then slumped back in shock and awe, I think. The triumph of this plain, common man singing opera just made my day.
It also reminded me of something that has always gotten under my skin. People go on and on and on about how boring classical music is and how it has no soul, but I have to say that classical music is the only music that has ever made me cry just with the pure emotion it carries. Now, don't get me wrong, some classical music is dead dull and I adore most other kinds of music (with a few notable exceptions) but there is something about live classical music that cuts past the drudgery of everyday life and reaches into my soul. I've had bluegrass and rock musicians tell me that classical music just doesn't make them feel anything, that it's really just dead white man's music. They have obviously never listened to Shostakovich's Fifth Symphony, or Respighi's "Pines of Rome," or almost anything by Tchaikovsky or Rachmaninoff. And as for singing French Romantic songs..... well, let's just say I have to do so sparingly, because I've never found another kind of music that could lay me bare to the world while I sang. I love my hymns, and I love solid worship songs, and there are spirituals that make me feel like I'm about to fly through the roof but there's just something about opera. That's it, I'm going to go sing Barber's "Sure on This Shining Night." Pleasant dreams, everyone!
PS Listening to Pavarotti reminds me so much of listening to Sam Jensen, which I promise isn't as heretical as it sounds, but Sam's high notes in his heyday were truly incredible. I've heard recordings.
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