Ancient Secrets of the Arts - UNVEILED! Part 6

The vast house in which I live is quiet, save the scratching of vocally adept cats at doors and the patter of rain and the windy echo of the wind through an open lounge room door. A time to reflect, or at least to simulate reflection.

And so: MYTHS OF THE OPERA.


A lot of living human beings think of the opera as a fairly difficult artform. As someone who has attended at least two operas, I think I stand fully accredited as a commentator on this public opinion.

Forgive me as I put on my critic's cap for a moment and offer my incisive judgement on said notion: really, really stupid.

Because opera is the most basic, simplistic form of entertainment around.

Now, I realise that opera is the least attended artform in Melbourne. And I realise that those who attend operas are also those most likely to attend other forms of entertainment.

But it's hardly the stuff at which you exclaim "Jiminy Crickets!" and rush to your smarter friends for some sort of explanation.

Let's face it, opera is the bodybuilding of music.

You have a bunch of mostly largish people duking it out onstage for vocal superiority, and as the evening progresses they bellow harder, hit higher and warble longer than each other in an all-out display of aural musculature. They're not in it for the art, they're in it for the sonic smackdown.

Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-garo!



Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-garo!



And so forth.

But you and I know we're not here to discuss the complexities of classic opera. We're here to keep it real, and in doing so get straight to the point. The point in this case being: Rock Opera.

The only thing to say is:

Tommy can you hear me?



Tommy can you hear me?



I hear you, Tommy. I hear you good.



THUS ENDS SERIES ONE OF ANCIENT SECRETS OF THE ARTS because I need a break from this thing.