Felsenmusick - The Weblog of Daniel Felsenfeld
The Web Log of a Certain Daniel Felsenfeld: Composer, critic, avid reader, aspiring
bon vivant, capricorn, shadowy figure, advice for the lovelorn

Saturday, February 25, 2006

Felsenmusick PSA: Mark Adamo's Lysistrata at New York City Opera

This is an email I got from my close friend, the excellent composer-librettist-renaissance man Mark Adamo, regarding an upcoming production. You'd all be wise to see this, as it is a really beautiful score, story and show.
Hail, friends: I'm delighted to report that New York City Opera, where I've served as composer-in-residence for the last five years, will be giving the New York premiere of my second opera, Lysistrata, or the Nude Goddess, this March and April: Michael Kahn directs and George Manahan conducts a production designed by Derek McLane and led by Emily Pulley, Chad Shelton, Myrna Paris, Victoria Livengood, and Jennifer Rivera, which was introduced last March by Houston Grand Opera. I write only because, to my surprise and delight, my company manager wrote me just yesterday that the first of the five performances (March 21) while almost a month away, is already virtually sold out; so if you are interested in hearing the piece (which is beautifully, beautifully performed) of course I'd like you to have the best seats available. Here's the schedule, and here's a link to an interview I gave on the occasion on the Houston premiere, which gives a little background.

Hope to see you there: cheers meanwhile....Yours, Mark

1 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Ooooohhh, can I go? - Ernie

Biglin Brothers Racing
Ernest Hilbert

Thomas Eakins

Nimble rowers, their art ancient as war,
Raise their oars and ride gently on dented gold
As sun shocks the river to ribboned fire.
They haul hard and halt. Nothing prepares for
Their clear and precise aim. They raise and fold
Their blades under, pull, draw, rest, and respire.
Simple flexed machines of doused oar, bright fleck,
Trained across cold surfaces brisk as steel,
Delicate insect thrash, more than just life,
More than we allow ourselves to expect;
Polished slender shell and jet-drawn keel,
Thrust through late noon light, fine as a knife.
Muscled rowers glide on their mirrored sky,
Winners, champions, built only to die.

11:26 AM  

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