In my younger days, I studied music and specifically capital-V Voice. Yes, my friends, at the age of 15, while other girls dreamed of being rock stars (not too many credible women back in those days except Janis, who was already long gone), I wanted to be Beverly Sills. Alas, I lacked only the voice and the ear. I wasn't even, I'm afraid, a particularly gifted amateur. Even so, it was a very good thing for me since I learned what kids today seem not to be taught: aspiration and enthusiasm and even discipline are no substitute for talent. Over and over I saw others more gifted than I win the competitions, the important roles in performances, and the big solos. I can't think of any better training for life than successive demanding and disappointing auditions with judges generally more tactful but no less ruthless than, say, the infamous Simon Cowell (who---I confess---I've seen in action only once, and by accident).
I got a lot out of it. Through my adolescent ventures into territory where I simply didn't have the talent to stake a claim, I learned the joysof participating in the production of a great work of art and also the relief of letting go of the desire to be center stage.
Another crucial aquisition was an enduring affection for certain
operas and certain oratorios, principally---I admit it---ones in which
I performed (invariably as a member of the chorus, but nevertheless
performed...). I hasten to disclose that these are merely a few
golden links in the multi-colored paper 'n plastic chain of "classic"
rock tunes and Bessie Smith-era divas which are strung round the inner
chamber of my consciousness. A collection of a dozen desert island CDs
for me would not include a single piece of music of the sort most
people lump together as "classical," not even "Carmen" or "The Tales of Hoffman," my two favorite operas,or the piece commonly referred to as the Mozart's Requiem Mass in D Minor, another.
There's not room in my top 12 for them among the various works by Jethro Tull and the Grateful Dead and the vintage jazz music my
jazz-obsessed husband Nick has introduced me to, though I might be able
to squeeze them into my top 20. I have to be in the mood for opera,
and possibly I don't deserve any opera or oratorio at all. I can
mostly live with that, most of the time.
But thanks to the internet, I am rediscovering some of my earlier
loves. And I have
found resources I frankly didn't know existed. One of which is this
YouTube video of the gorgeous and always astonishing soprano Kiri Te Kanawa sing Dove Sono (from The Marriage of Figaro), one of my all-time favorite arias. [If you need to know the words, the libretto is here.] For this, I am grateful to Stumbleupon Stumbler Toff's collection of favorites. For a quick directory of some of Western Civilizations's best, I recommend that you sign up for Stumbleupon and check out his favorites. (Henceforth, expect to see my gratitude for frequently expressed here.)
So put away the lava lamp and the bean bag chair, sit up straight, put on your serious music face, and accept this glass of priceless auditory champagne.
(TO BE CROSS-POSTED TO "JUST EAT THE DAMN PEACH")
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