Headshot of La Cieca

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  • m. croche: Cenerentola doesn’t feel like a comedy to me because of its underlying melancholy. Though it... 2:19 PM
  • Regina delle fate: Erzsebet Hazy – there’s a blast from the past! Thanks for the reminder, Buster. 2:15 PM
  • Regina delle fate: Fair enough, Oedipe. No-one is saying you’re wrong. Chacun à son goût as they say. I... 2:13 PM
  • kashania: Cocky: I always assumed it was an E-flat at the end but you’re right that it’s a D.... 2:11 PM
  • luvtennis: Wow, postus interruptis! I was going to conclude that Gruberova’s basic timbre and technique... 1:55 PM
  • Camille: I would gladly give my shriveled old right teat to go to Pesaro, especially to hear that great... 1:53 PM
  • Camille: Claro que si, Guessie querida!!! 1:40 PM
  • luvtennis: Camille: I would cast my vote for two recordings (with a third as supplement) First, the Miriciou... 1:39 PM
  • Buster: I have posted these Massary interviews here before, but they contain so much essential information... 1:38 PM
  • Guestoria Unpopularenka: Es que cuando tu tenias 7 años, California todavia era parte de Mexico?! :O 1:37 PM

Where the boys are

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 recorded what might be called fluff/vanity albums.

Joseph Calleja released an album of eclectic love songs, named (what else?) Amore. Hot on its heels is Vittorio Grigolo’s foray into an equally eclectic mix of religious songs, Ave Maria. On a slightly less fluffy level are Rolando Villazón’s album of Mozart concert arias, intriguingly entitled Mozart, and Juan Diego Flórez’s foray into the French spinto/heroic repertoire, named, naturellement, L’amour.   Read more »

Cover to cover

La Cieca (pictured) is thrilled to announce the debut of a new online book club  hosted by Norman Lebrecht of “Slipped Disc” fame. The rules of the group are simple: each month Mr. Lebrecht nominates a book, which the members then proceed not to read. Then everyone unanimously and repeatedly declares the book should never have been allowed to be published. In other words, the same guidelines apply as in that blog’s discussion of opera productionsRead more »

Follow me and climb the stairs

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. As you probably have heard, veteran critic Allan Kozinn is about to go though one of those NYT lateral moves, away from criticism and toward culture reporting, and the blogosphere is in a state of high dither. [Slipped Disc]

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The world of tomorrow

“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]

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A woman running City Opera? Unheard of!

“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!

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There will be blood

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.” 

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No cure for the common scold

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.  

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