People who know me as a hard-core rocker who positively despises musicals might be surprised to find that I am a huge fan of opera. But they shouldn’t be. Consider what rock music has come to: Joe Perry jamming with Sanjaya on last year’s American Idol finale and Jimmy page “rockin’ out” with Leona Lewis at the closing ceremony of the Beijing Olympics. It’s become a spectacle, but one without any edge. Gone are the days when Alice Cooper stunned audiences with the over-the-top theatrics of his “Welcome to My Nightmare” tour or when Kiss’ massive black platform boots and flash pods seemed fresh and dangerous. So you could spend a couple of hundred bucks to see the Stones and you’d know all the songs, probably enjoy most of them, and see one guy working his ass off while five other guys just stand there playing. They’d hit most of the notes, and maybe you’d get lucky and the sound in the sports stadium wouldn’t be too muddy. Or you could buy yourself a ticket for the opera and get state-of-the-art sound, a whole cast of singers working their butts off, a great orchestra, a world-class conductor and music that has stood the test of time. Not to mention everyone behind the scenes. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

RTWT