Parsifal Rationing

Have you ever heard of such a thing, rationing the number of times you can encounter Wagner's Parsifal? Well I have to, otherwise I might literally lose my head or die of cranial engorgement. You see, the thing is, I love the music way too much for stable mental health. At Bayreuth,  Wagner's "home built" opera house, strange men in rain coats with greasy hair hang around before a show wearing pathetic signs round their necks saying,  "please sell me a ticket". They are hooked, addicted, pathetic: in a way like Parsifal himself. The compassionate holy fool who restores Von  Eschenbach's knights to their deeply spiritual encounters with the Holy Grail starts his journey in the guise of a naive oaf.
 I have tried to analyse what it is about, say, the Act 1 interlude or the Good Friday music that lifts me into tantric ecstasy. In case you haven't got a clue what I am talking about, I am referring to the ultimate yogic tantric sex practice when you bypass sexual intercourse and instead  literally "come" out of the top of your head! This Wagner fix for me is, I suspect, at least as powerful as heroin. I am told that substance makes sex pall into insignificance so you can see why I might be worried if I got hooked!
Yesterday at Covent Garden I heard the sweetest most manly Gurnemanz sung by Rene Pape, God what a voice, what a man, what subtle care of text. Then there was Tony Pappano moulding  the dough of his orchestra into untold sensuality with his very bare hands, no baton here. The Parsifal was good vocally although my sassy companions were disturbed by his barrel tummy. Personally I  prefer fat and a good technique rather than thin and flat of tone. The Kundry, Angela Denoke, is a mere slip of a woman.  Her impressive middle voice was vastly "over-covered" and gripped in a steely controlled way: I was immediately suspicious as to how she would get her top notes. They were indeed a pitiful whimper which made a damp squib out of the climax of her salvation. Casting not up to snuff here. I have noticed of late a proclivity for thinness over good singing in the casting of lead women at Covent Garden.
Stephen Langridge's production above all things did allow the music to breathe and I admire him for taking that risk. The whole story is so loaded with Christianity, Masonry and outright wishful thinking that we can all become suckers for the unbelievable fairy tale. However I feel we miss a trick if we ignore the underbelly of the story, which is about what Jung called "Self Actualisation", i.e., becoming true to oneself.  Kundry  represents not "fallen women" but the ideal of rampant commercialism, fame and ego inflation. When Parsifal finally throws her off and redeems both of them Wagner is saying "look, we can live a more fulfilling life without all of that!"
As a composer I am impressed that Wagner created his own libretto because it gives him full autonomy to infuse his music with a marinated interpretation of the grail legend. Whatever your feeling may be about Wagner (appalling antisemitism) or the grail legends (religious bunkum) this music transcends itself. In his Parsifal Wagner literally finds his voice and in that deeply personal yet public act I am found too.

"Taking Holy Orders

"Taking Holy Orders": Yes, my friends, it's come to this. It's time for me to contemplate and rejuvenate. I have embraced Academia. I am up at Cambridge University, be-gowned, bespectacled, a fresher at large reading for an MPhil in composing. My aim is to create three orchestral interludes and three scenas as calling cards for a full length opera, my first. Such a grand project can only be contemplated in a special place and Cambridge certainly is that. Carillons of chapel bells ring uncharacteristically into the late evening. The central fountain of King's courtyard resonates with a curiously Italian balmy ease. But it will get colder as the Michaelmas term goes on, I know that. I have my cold-resistant jodhpurs ready for nightly descents down Magdalene street on my trusty Ridgeback bike, now coded with secret runes to deter thieves.



The meetings with other composers have so far been furtive. Getting to know them is like sweaty petting, it's warm hearted enough, but where is it going I wonder? Our leaders are exceptionally good, which is reassuring. The microtonal, esoteric music of Tristan Murail feasted our ears in the first seminar, heartily washed down with mathematical explanations of carrier notes and modulation notes, a far cry from the bitonal cycle of fifths I have unleashed in my first compositional workout "Meditation on the Nature of Love". God knows what "Musicology and its Debates" will throw at me tomorrow. The preparatory reading involves a lot of Californian Academics slagging each other off, but Mozart and the North American Blackfoot Tribe always seem to emerge unscathed. Never mind, perhaps I will find consolation at the Cambridge Union debates: I am now a life member. Or will I find calm in the new St. Edmunds (my college) women's boat, rowing with a body of gorgeous women down the river Cam at 7.am? This is guaranteed to be cool!



But will I write a better Opera in this rarefied atmosphere than in domestic bliss? I am immediately released all week from cleaning concerns. To compose an opera one must, I believe, be prepared to hone and throw away a lot of material that’s not up to the mark. So will this be the place to do it? I am reflecting hourly on my music as I walk through the exquisite grounds of St John’s College, between the music faculty and cosy teas in town. A job worth doing needs full commitment, so it's time to take up holy orders. I have a terrific contemporary novel as the basis for my opera...no, I am not going to divulge here its subject or eminent writer, suffice it to say it offers broad scope to compose a stunning "Big Country" musical landscape. I may even use some of these additional microtonal techniques. Then there are the multi-layered characters that will have "double" voices: a lyric soprano who can also sing in pop-singer belt voice, a tenor (male or female!) who can sing in manly chest and histrionic mezzo/countertenor. The percussion section will include bowed vibraphone, a donkey jaw from Peru, part of a car engine, razor shells. I will reveal more as I go on. But for now, let the distilling of compositional fluids start, my vessels filling, emptying, disseminating and transforming.

Opera = Orgasm

My cousin Will's writing loft is an installation of yellow "post- its", many of the notes go "x = something" so when I espied "Opera= Orgasm" my interest was tweaked. To see two subjects very close to my heart so intimately interlinked made my heart miss a beat. "By God he's right" I thought but not I hasten to add in a smutty way. No orgasm is a very necessary catharsis in a World dulled by its own sense of self importance. Here is an uncharted moment that occurs in many surprising ways, that means so much to us that we would risk all, that fulfils a connection to another in no other known way. Sure Woody Allen's reference to masturbation as "sex with someone you love" has my respect but ultimately it is the sacred union of the two in a sublime moment that wins hands down. So what could be the orgasm connection to Opera?

Music is a fluid art: if you could objectify it then I would choose the medium of water as the best representation. There are so many applications for water, the clear flowing stream in the dappled sunlight at Dovedale, the swollen milky jade Salzach river in spring, the glistening turquoise Aegean at dawn, the tempestuous Atlantic at Lands End or the swirling kelp forests beneath the calm  icy Pacific at Big Sur. The same obviously applies to music and yet inspiring and wonderful though those states are, they represent a stasis. Yet I believe there is a bloodthirstiness in us all that seeks a special moment. Why otherwise would so many if us enjoy murder mysteries etc? So perhaps it is that musical  moment in Wagner's Liebestod when we realise that there is untold ecstasy in a love mingled with death, that no other medium, not even sex itself, can surpass the intra-cranial glow of the opera orgasm. For me it is even more present in the act 1 orchestral interlude in Parsifal that leads to the knights' ceremony. I confess I have to ration my listening of it , although just mentioning it now brings it to life in my synapses and spontaneously releases a massive overflow of dopamine. Wow!

But I am not solely a Wagner "geek" , no there are many other opera orgasms to be had, like the going away trio in Mozart's "Cosi fan Tutte" or the beginning of the Governess's exquisite aria in Britten's "The Turn of the Screw". However the truth is that these are fairly short-lived moments in long works.  Such overwhelming  ecstasy would not be possible for a whole evening. But this then surely is the point, that an  orgasmic moment has to be worked for, built up, and this is only possible through the development of true relationship. Tristan and Isolde have been through a lot to get to their peak point, the knights in Parsifal have been practising their ritual for many decades, the young women in Cosi have spent their entire childhoods locked in a fairy tale Prince Charming dream but now their lovers are tragically going to war.

So simply put, I believe that Opera works best when it explores the value of relationship and in my experience having a superb orgasm thrives on the same recipe. You can call me a saucy old devil if you will but I make no apology for being a horny  composer, I merely follow in a long line! But I also I love to build human relationships and the same goes for music through weaving a complex paradoxical tapestry of note making, themes and soundscapes. It's not easy to compose  opera that makes a truly  special experience for the audience.  Of late George Benjamin's "Written on Skin" is one of the rare successes I have enjoyed. To get to a musical orgasm, a composer must work very hard and be prepared to constantly throw away weaker material, this requires a great deal of inner analysis and sometimes a tussle with "The dark night of the soul".  The outcome of the Opera will ultimately rely on her relationship to herself and others . Dare I say it, a good sex life will be a great help in this quest. Wordy stuff I hear you say, so for now it's back to "head down" with my new opera and finding some precious time between the sheets!

Can Benjamin Britten's Operas benefit from diverse interpretations?

This summer our new coastal company Seastar Opera put on "Turn of the Screw" by Benjamin Britten. Our interpretation had an interesting twist, we used an all female cast. Miles the boy was played by Eleanor Cramer a Cambridge choral scholar and Quint by myself ( a mezzo /contralto) and a mime. I sang Quint at pitch employing my developed chest tenor range which has grown out of my work as a composer developing music designed for a mature women's voice
The decision to use women in the male roles was born firstly out of necessity , tenors don't come cheap and boy trebles voices break too early to be really effective technically or emotionally in singing the complex role of Miles. Also at Seastar as a general point we feel that the opera repertoire doesn't offer enough character scope in female roles. Add to that the dispiriting fact that most operas contain proportionally more male to female roles yet there are far more female than male singers in the modern marketplace.
 Gender has always been changed in opera for artistic reasons , it has a huge tradition spanning over the centuries.  Another interesting development in this gender issue is the new way in which countertenors have been taking on mezzo trouser roles such as Cherubino in Mozart's "The Marriage Figaro" and tenors have been taking on "old mezzo baggage" roles such as The Witch in Humperdinck's " Hansel and Gretel". The results have been fascinating and refreshing. But surely then if these new female to male interpretations are interesting and valid, (Philip Langridge made his last appearance before dying as The Witch at The Met a few years ago) then the opposite is also valid and  noteworthy? Certainly Dame  Jenni Murray on Woman's Hour thought so .
 http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b036wfzq.
Also the broadcaster David Nice comments elegantly on our interpretation in his  blog. davidnice.blogspot.co.uk .
"I suspect that just as you wouldn't have known Susie and Marina were women beneath that effective make up, you'd never know Eleanor Kramer wasn't a boy. Her 'Malo' was as touching as they come, her screams terrifying; again, only a bit more dramatic vividness as the screw turned wouldn't have gone amiss." David Nice
There were many other  enthusiastic comments about the production,a  few of which I post here below together with a review.
 However after the run a very old fashioned woman from Boosy and Hawkes Britten's publisher who we are paying handsomely for the rights to perform , rang us to complain that we used women. She had heard the Woman's Hour Review. I  am certain though that we have not in anyway subverted our contract with Boosey as we sang all the notes at the intended pitch. Indeed many people in the audience didn't realise women were playing the roles of Miles and Quint. Surely if a composer makes a  great work then it can withstand and indeed thrive under many interpretations? And who is to say it really  matters what genital assignment lurks under the costume of the performer? There is also a possibly contentious sexist issue here but I leave that for you to comment!
Comments and Review
" Benjamin Britten's "Turn of the Screw played to a full house at  Wells Granary Theatre on thursday. Performed by an all women cast  it  was a notable,fascinating,beautifully sung and staged production. Ghostly Quint, diabolical ex valet is played , in mime by Marina Sossi as well as ably sung by Susie Self , conductor and co-director of Seastar Opera. This double act is powerful and effective . Singing of all the cast is sensational." Carla Phillips Eastern Daily Press July 2013
"Dear Seastar Opera,
Sorry its taken so long to feed back on your brilliant production at The Granary Theatre.  What a thrill to hear voices of that quality here in Wells where I live! I have seen TotS before in big theatre productions but yours was more memorable. So many imaginative, brilliant touches. A perfect illustration that : “less is more”! And what a coup to use a dancer for Quint with a different singer. And the superb make up for Miles and will we be hearing Miss Jessel as Brunhilde one day? Please, please more opera here of that calibre. It was memorable. Don’t know how many have written but lots of our opera friends here were deeply impressed." David L Saunders ,Wells Next the Sea
"A gripping and truly memorable production of Britten's Turn of the Screw , inspired, directed, conducted by the remarkable Susie Self who also sang the role of Quint in a quite magical personal performance"
Stephen Richards  publisher for Boosy and Hawkes July 2013 posted on Faceboo