What a gig! - who needs Glastonbury?? Drugs at Covent Garden!!

I recently pondered as to whether I might be regressing to my (distant) youth or just going through a mid-life crisis. Well here I go again.

I have been far from well for at least two weeks now. One week is more than enough - after two weeks everyone has run out of sympathy, my own feelings of cabin fever and not getting out are equalled only by the frustrations of Beau who turns from cute Springer to a lean, mean, ADHD machine.

So when, on Saturday I was offered a ticket to one of the hottest gigs around - I had to at least try to get out.

There follow a few lines that I might regret in times to come - but there I was sitting and soaking in some of the best music I have ever heard while stoned out of my head. Now, before they come to get me, I ought to offer a quick explanation. The gig was at the Royal Opera House Covent Garden and the pharmacological enhancement was enough Benylin/Strepsil cocktail to anaesthetise a moderately belligerent Ox.

At least I didn't get the giggles. The Opera - Adriana LeCouvreur - is by a follower of Puccini, one Francesco Cilea, whose obscurity is quite undeserved. Covent Garden threw the heavyweights at this one - Mark Elder in the Pit and Angela Gheorghiu opposite Jonas Kaufmann on stage. Uttterly captivating from Gheorghiu and even Kaufmann, who was clearly having throat problems (could he have got my bad chest that quickly from all the way up in the balcony?) towards the end was spell-binding. Why did I mention the giggles? Well it is the plot actually. If one were to ask non-Opera fans why they don't like Opera, one of the reasons commonly given is the utter stupidity of the plots. I can't argue with that in this case. At least we were not asked to believe that a hefty mezzo was an emaciated and tubercular teenager dying in a garret - but the dying, dear God, the dying!!!!

One of the aspects at Covent Garden that I remain unsure about is the surtitles. Having the English words above the stage is quite useful in less familiar cases or where the libretto is far from in sync with what is happening onstage - but can otherwise be distracting. Saturday was the first case where I saw them as an aid to comedic timing. In the last act of Adriana LeCouvreur, I regret to say that every cliche is taken out of the bag, dusted down and re-arranged for the big death scene. One could almost imagine the supporting members of the cast bringing in sandwiches and thermos flasks of hot tea as they settle in for the inevitable. The grouping, like a wicket-keeper, four slips and a gully around the heroine (and the only one who didn't know she had been poisoned) as she informed us she was dying in a significant and ever-more inventive number of ways was necessary so that the cast could indeed confirm that she was and that the process was far from over yet. As this went on ( let me try and be fair - the music and singing were sublime ) and I had got to the point of looking for the telephone number of the printer of the program, the typeface used and the flavours of ice-cream available during the intervals, suddenly there was a dramatic crash of orchestral noise and a stiffening of those on stage.

Unfortunately the critical moment was to have been announced by a baritone recitative "E Morta - She is dead"- instead it was up there above the stage first and a definite titter ran through the room.

I shouldn't be critical - even Beethoven couldn't do Opera - I mean am I alone in thinking I would rather spend a year in Guantanomo than sit through Fidelio?? Cilea's weakness to the cliches is forgiveable and forgiven. Cartoon-caper scenes apart, one hell of a gig!

Dum Spiro Spero