Opera North
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When little, on a family holiday to Austria, my Dad, a professional pianist, wanted to take me to Mozart’s birthplace in Salzburg, now housing a museum to the incredible composer. It was sadly not to be for, upon arrival, we were told that I was too young to gain entry (lest I maraud around, climbing
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I write this swathed in aptness as I prepare for a return to Shakespeare country; Stratford-upon-Avon this weekend. The weekender was originally intended to be more Butlins, Black Grape and Boo Radleys, and altogether less Bard, but when flooding takes out your chalet, substituting a Shiiine indie festival for Shakespeare felt the obvious move. But
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As Opera North say, La Traviata is perfect for opera newbies as well as diehard opera fans. And I would wholly support this. I guess I would be placed in the middle lane in that I really do enjoy opera, have seen a respectable number of different productions but have yet to reach double figures.
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It’s been so long. So long since I’ve got lost trying to find which door I need to enter to take my seat even though I’ve been a hundred times before. So long since I’ve gone up and down rows trying to find my seat number even though I’ve been a hundred times before. So
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Some years ago, I visited the site where Julius Caesar was said to meet his maker. The Curia in the Theatre Of Pompey is not only a place of significant historical importance but much to my total and utter glee, a colony for feral cats. Cat lovers this is your Mecca, cat not-lovers probably give
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Verdi’s Aida is admittedly one of the operas I knew little about, in terms of both narrative and its musical score. An opera in four acts, Aida is set in Egypt at the time of the Pharoahs. The priesthood, through its self-proclaimed ability to interpret the gods’ will, controls the government and have long been
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Mozart can do no wrong. It’s not even up for debate. When I was knee-high to an etc., I went with my parents to Austria, visiting Salzburg along the way and so to the birthplace of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. The actual birthplace – the house. My Dad, a professional pianist, was keen to fulfill an
honorary manc 