Norman Lebrecht announces that Deborah Voigt , “one of the leading Brünnhildes of our time,” will join Rufus Wainwright to sing arias from Prima Donna and will then join him in a duet of “If I Loved You” from Carousel and… oh, I just can’t.
It’s Logic 101, really: “Peter Gelb says opera in the United States is having trouble finding an audience. A single performance at the Mariinsky Opera last week sold out. Therefore, Peter Gelb is a liar.”
When Norman Lebrecht is declaring on an almost daily basis that classical music is dead, it’s perhaps heartening that four of today’s prominent tenors have recently released what might be called fluff/vanity albums.
La Cieca (pictured) is thrilled to announce the debut of a new online book club hosted by Norman Lebrecht of “Slipped Disc” fame.
La Cieca was hoping for an official announcement from the New York Times before she posted this, but it looks like she’s going to have to grit her teeth and link to Norman Lebrecht after all.
“Sony Classical is proud to announce the signing of an exclusive recording contract with Plácido Domingo. This new agreement brings the legendary singer back to the company where his unparalleled recording career started in the late 1960s. Sony Classical’s catalog boasts many of his milestone recordings, and the renewed collaboration between Mr. Domingo and the label promises to explore new repertoire areas and showcase fascinating new aspects of this great artist.” [via Slipped Disc]
“Zambello, a busy stage director, should have become director of New York City Opera a few years back but was rejected by a sexist board.” [Lebrecht] On a completely unrelated note, happy birthday Beverly Sills!
As perhaps you know, if there’s anyone Norman Lebrecht hates more than opera singers and superstar conductors, it’s artists’ managers. So imagine his glee when he got his mitts on an email “leaked… in the dark of night” detailing “the balance of terror that prevails between a soloist and the person who supposedly has his or her best interests at heart…. the stuff of nightmares.”
Every time La Cieca says she’s through once and for all reading Norman Lebrecht, that middlebrow minstrel of the maestro myth soars to new heights of noisomeness. This time (yet again) it’s about how utterly callous those silly opera singers are for canceling (imagine!) when they’re too sick to sing.