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From:
Janos Gereben <[log in to unmask]>
Date:
Wed, 6 Aug 2003 00:06:55 -0700
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The challenge: to stay awake and be well entertained during the time
needed to traverse I-5 from San Francisco to the Seattle Opera "Parsifal"
over the weekend (http://tinyurl.com/j539).  And back.  That's 1,700
miles.

The solution: a felicitious combination of opera, technology, and the
work of the Great Archivist.  Among Mike Richter's many save-and-compress
projects, there is a set of three CD-ROMs, containing 61 complete
performances broadcast during the San Francisco Opera's glory days,
mostly in the '70s.

Playing this great treasure trove of music required a computer until
recently.  With the introduction of inexpensive CD-MP3 players, it's
a new day.  The Panasonic portable I got for the trip even has a
cigaret-lighter power source, so it was music all the way, a thrilling
alternative to the brain-dead AM radio environment of the Valley.

There was something else new: when you listen to a RichterDisc on the
computer, you navigate by the menus and usually visit old friends and
favorites first...  running out of time quickly.  On an MP3 player, files
come up in alphabetical order and suddenly you discover performances you
haven't sampled before.  Also, without menus, information about the cast
is available only at the beginning and the end of an act...  and
occasionally not at all, providing a lively quiz situation.

For example, the MP3 player "made" me listen to a 1977 "Ballo" and I
didn't hear the cast announcement.  Suddenly, somewhere between Redding
and Weed, the great duet rang out, sung as well as I have heard, but the
voices were not easy to identify.  It was near the Oregon border that I
realized they were Ricciarelli and Carrerras, fine artists, but not ones
I would normally seek out.  If I missed this happenstance, I might never
have known how wonderful they were at the peak of their careers.  Kurt
Herbert Adler, whose management of the company made magic happen in this
small town at land's end, was not considered a particularly good conductor,
but in this "Ballo," he was outstanding.

And who is this reedy, but strikingly dramatic Wotan in a 1972 "Walkure,"
trying to rein in the unmistakable Brunnhilde of Nilsson, giving up after
a great quarrel with Lilova's unusually passionate and sexy Fricka?  It
was Thomas Stewart, sounding very different from how I remember him.

The march of files on the player also meant listening to intermission
features I never heard or completely forgot.  There is Adler's little
speech, awarding the first SF Opera Medal to Dorothy Kirsten, marking
her 25th season with the company, apologizing at the end that the actual
medal is not ready yet "because we are not like the government, minting
money whenever we feel like it."

Kirsten was so easy to interview.  She would start telling stories
and stopped when the intermission ended.  Her tale of the Met debut in
"Fanciulla" when "the young lady" singing the title role lost her voice
during the performance is improbable and thrilling: Kirsten, who was to
go on the next day, already spent seven hours in rehearsal, didn't get
to Act 3, went back to the hotel, took a sleeping pill, was awakened to
replace the soprano.  It was the untried Act 3 she had to sing, including
a stage entrance on a horse "who was a stranger to me."

Kirsten's "Tosca" here in 1970 (with Domingo and Quilico) was notable
for the conducting debut of James Levine, "this terribly talented
27-year-old" the soprano spent half her interview praising.  One reason
for Kirsten being smitten by Levine was that several years before, they
met in Cincinnati, and the young man boldly told the famous singer that
"one day we'll do `Tosca' together." Kirsten forgot the episode, but
Levine reminded her in San Francisco by sending her two dozen roses with
a note: "Tosca, finalmente mia!"

Silja's 1971 "Lulu," Verrett's "L'Africaine," Pavarotti's 1974 "Luisa
Miller," von Stade's "Cenerentola," the 1975 Rostropovich-Vishnevskaya
"Queen of Spades," Olivero's 1979 "Voix humaine," Soderstrom's 1980
"Jenufa," ...  on and on.  What if all this disappeared forever?

The Opera administration has certainly responded well in expressing
appreciation for what must have required months of search and hard
work to rescue the broadcasts, which contributed mightily to
national/international awareness of the company.  SFO attorneys a couple
of years ago issued a cease-and-desist threat, halting the at-cost
distribution of the CDs.  (If I remember right, the double set of SFO
2/3, containing 40 operas, cost about $15...  or 37 cents per work.)

The attorneys' action came too late to prevent saving these memories,
an archiving triumph, which - among other, more important, accomplishments
- makes driving long distances easy, fun and meaningful.  Thanks, Mike!

Janos Gereben/SF
www.sfcv.org
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