For goodness sake, shut up Alfie!

About a year ago I was contacted by a newspaper to ask my opinion on an Alfie Boe interview in which the tenor had bemoaned the snobbery of the opera world and told how it had driven him from the industry. I suspect I was asked because the journalist knew that I am an example of someone who couldn't be further from Boe's caricature. My response was a sigh and a childishly fruity alliteration. I had to do a double take when I read an interview this week in The Telegraph, which said pretty much the same thing again. This time a "class system" had emerged in the world of opera (but Prince Charles is a mate) and Alfie was on tour, not selling a record; rock and roll and some nice neapolitan songs await the knicker-chucking hordes, apparently.

As you might expect, Twitter and Facebook lit up with the anger and indignation of opera professionals exasperated at the dual jeopardy of Boe's boring mantra and the media's lazy accommodation of it. What irks them is easy to fathom; Boe was given a fantastic opportunity to develop a career, he had talent, but now he is fully signed up to the stereotype that maintains the almost ludicrous assertion that opera is a world of Oxbridge snobs who only care about a singer's social provenance. And worse, he does it to sell records or tickets.

To be fair to Boe, there is every likelihood that he is asked these questions unbid and merely answers with a nudge and a wink to his PR, knowing it will get attention. I don't suppose he really gives a fig about the opera business and merely continues to be soaked by whatever self justification he bathed himself in when he got the hell outta opera-dodge.

I don't know Alfie personally but I know plenty who do and not everybody has good things to say about him. But given these people and their backgrounds, I also know that Alfie is aware of how very few people in the business emerge from privileged backgrounds. However, and my moderation continues to favour Alfie, his ire seems to be directed at those in management or the general establishment of the art form. So is he right?

No. Of course he isn't right. In fact, he couldn't be more wrong. If he said the business is liberally dotted with tossers, he would be right. If he said there are some people who acquire careers without the attendant talent (hugely more prevalent in the realm of directing and conducting, I would venture) he would be right. If he said that opera singers, even the most lavishly talented, can be narcissistic pains in the arse, he would be right because he himself has such tendencies. If he made a hundred observations of one sort or another he would probably hit the mark in half of them. But the one thing he is utterly wrong about is a "class system" among singers (beyond 'rubbish', 'good' 'excellent' that is). And whilst audiences for opera can sometimes fit the caricature, even these people concern themselves only with the sound that emits from a singer's mouth; a sound that even in the most shaky Italian masks a northern brogue. They couldn't care less where Alfie grew up and how many oil filters he changed.

One of the most delightful aspects of my job is the relationship it gives me with individuals who would, in all honesty, choose to cross the street from me in other circumstances. That annoys some people but I find it triumphantly satisfying and it shows that the shared passion for the art form transcends social hierarchy in a way that we like to broadcast through our development work. Of course society has a social order and class system but in opera, where talent and the glory of music is paramount, nobody gives a shit. This is even true of houses and festivals where wealth and status are most lavishly displayed in the auditorium.

As far as I can tell, Alfie probably found the discipline and effort required for the operatic repertoire too irksome. He can't be arsed with it, which is not to say he doesn't work hard at what he does now, but he probably feels more at home with the screaming, unbridled adoration of young women and housewives (who wouldn't?!) He needs to shut up because he is protesting too much.

Alfie clearly has no affection for opera and perhaps he had doubts about his potential for the kind of success he craved. He is in a unique position to encourage audiences to explore it because he had a decent shot at it when ENO and the ROH were giving him opportunities. But if he doesn't feel compelled to speak on its behalf, to offer insights that may help the wider public to try it, then he should just say nothing. And he should certainly not abuse and denigrate those who, like him, have ordinary backgrounds. It is crass, rude, and intensely self-regarding. And worse, it shows him up to be the thing that he claims people dislike so much. Ironic, huh?

Just a dream

What I am about to impart to you is absolutely true. I really DID have a dream last night that featured Antonio Pappano and a full audience at the ROH. And I did have a stand up row with the maestro from the floor of the auditorium which migrated onto the stage. 

And it was one of those dreams that, when you awake, takes a few moments to be acknowledged as a figment of your sleeping brain.

It also had a complete narrative, it didn't just appear in the middle of another dream; it began, had a middle, an end and there was nothing either side of it. And given recent debates it was perhaps an entirely predictable dream to experience. It went a lot like this....

The lights dimmed in the house, there was a fanfare and the curtains opened to reveal a large, bright staircase with gaudy bulbs along each step; I half expected Bruce Forsyth to appear at the top of it. But he didn't; amid a bright pink wash, the spotlight picked out Tony Pappano, hands raised, a roar of approval from the crowd, his arms raised in the air triumphantly. A big band played. Alongside Tony was another individual who I didn't recognise and who became insignificant and irrelevant.  Tony marched to the front of the stage with cheers, music and applause ringing in his ears. From my front row seat I noticed that in one hand he held a pad of yellow Post-it notes and in the other a pencil. He was wearing a green velvet jacket.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen!"

A roar in return.

"Tonight I am here, on stage to talk to you about opera. More importantly I am here to get ideas from YOU about what we do to make it more popular!"

More cheers, more applause (I promise, this is exactly how it went. The dream is emblazoned on my memory).

"Every idea you give me I will write on these stickers and they will be placed on the wall in my office. You will shout the ideas, I will write them down. It is that simple".

By now I was already bristling so I didn't wait for him to finish. I stood up.

"Tony, is this bloody serious?" I barked.

Tony noticed me and, leaning forward from the stage, offered calming hand and a fixed smile.

"We all know what you think Michael", he said "but lets give other people a chance to speak."

"What is your top price ticket Tony? Come on, what is it?"

The house had fallen deathly silent but I looked around at them anyway, seeking approval for the question. There was none.

"It isn't just about price is it?" he replied. Tony was still smiling, looking a little sheepish. He looked alarmed when I strode up the indecently handy set of steps in front of me (this was a dream after all). 

"Come on Mike".

"Don't worry Tony, I just want to speak to you. I won't punch you. No it isn't just price. What about repertoire?" 

Things started to get a little surreal here. I told him that he should be doing more Mozart and asked why he had never done Cilea's  L'arlesiana or Giordano's Siberia

"You are not welcoming to people here," I continued.  "You stop people at the door who don't look posh. You don't even give them a refund when you turn them away". 

My grandstanding raised not even a murmur from the house.

"That's not true. We do give them a refund!" he replied.

Tony was still smiling and I complimented him on it. He laughed.

"And what about you slagging off all the singers for being ill? How is that making opera more accessible?"  Dreams often conflate issues. Wrongly.

Tony dropped the smile at this point. I wouldn't say he looked angry but his face was stern. 

"Ha! That's why we are doing this tonight! Bloody singers dropped out and we had to get something on stage!" Huge cheer from the house.

I scoffed at him. "No it isn't!"

"Yes it is! Three of them. All together. And they phoned me from the pub!" 

Huge boo from the house. He was smiling again. 

"You haven't written a single thing down on your stickers Tony. You call that consultation? Not a single word have you scribbled down".

And then the music started again and we both walked off together, up the staircase, through a curtain at the top. When there, he thanked me.

"Great show!" he said. Still smiling. 

James, my producer colleague, was waiting. 

"You tart"' he said.

Sick Singers

Antonio Papanno unleashed a tsunami of frowning and growling when he bemoaned the "weakness" of modern singers recently. Many observers cheered him too; if you pay a couple of hundred quid and the star doesn't turn up it is no surprise that you would give Tony a clap. Oddly, on such occasions when the lonely walk to centre-stage by a member of the management, just before curtain up, signals something is wrong, there is often a chance that you will be party to a significant career moment as the cover steps up to the plate and steals the show.

As expected, the debate has become polarised; a good old ding dong on the Guardian website between Christopher Gillet and Peter Conrad is a perfect demonstration of how the issue divides people. The truth, as ever, is in the middle somewhere. In 24 years, I have seen both the capricious, neurotic narcissist panicking after a sneeze as well as - the more frequent - stoical, risk taking heroics of sopranos with broken feet, tenors with suppurating, inflamed throats and others with recently delivered and grave news swirling through their minds. Those to whom Pappano refers probably fell into some or all of the above categories but he has had some very public and profoundly awkward experiences recently and his frustration is understandable.

What is absolutely certain is that opera houses have a responsibility to their employees and in the vast majority of cases, we have absolutely no concerns that a singer is swinging the lead, aware as we are of the intricacies of the problem, the gravity of their condition. And we also understand the extent of their exposure when out on that stage, performing the most physically, mentally and emotionally demanding of all performance art. No disappointed audience member, for all our regret, is worth risking the health of a singer.

The real problem with Pappano's comments is not necessarily that he made them but the reaction to them by people who ought to know better. Accusations of blame fly hither and thither; it is the agents who make them sing roles they are unready for; it is the PR machine who forces them to endure unnecessary engagements when they should be resting; they are divas with pseudo-messianic complexes and so on. All of that may be a bit true, but it is yet another stereotype, propagated by the industry itself, that allows the public and anybody with malice aforethought to lazily trumpet "I told you so". Whip out the brush and slop on the tar.

I can't tell you how intensely dislikable some singers can be, but even then, there is - must be - an appreciation for what it is they do every night; it is also true to say that our critical fraternity can instil a fear that ads just enough of an added incentive not to go out there and risk a caning. But it isn't the critics' fault either. It is just simply that in 99% of cases, the singer is sick. If you or I get a cold we can sit at our desks, doped on Lemsip and trundle through our day's tasks unwatched, unnoticed, silently. That is a luxury not afforded a performer who must force their voice into spectacularly unnatural contortions, expending monumental amounts of energy in the process. We might expect them to gamely sing through it as many often do, but sometimes, they simply can't. If the weakness to which Pappano refers is perceived to be this refusal to battle on, then people have misunderstood him, because I cannot imagine he would want to risk the quality of a performance or the career of a singer. And a very real risk it is too. We still blanche at the memory of a tenor who chose not to make us aware of a throat condition but who nevertheless went on in one of the repertoire's most ferociously demanding roles. The shock and horror of watching the cataclysmic progress of his demise through the evening remains with us still. And he was destroyed by it.

The insistence that "star" performers should always fill the glamour roles should also become less habitual, with houses giving, instead, more opportunities to the talented performers that rarely get the chance. If Pappano's remarks are indicative of a general concern among international houses, then perhaps it is an opportunity to start changing the way they cast productions, relying less on the glamour and more on the talent, spreading the load, nourishing the future of the art, neutering the rampant expectations.