Venetian-Blind Music

To the Manhattan music critic heading for the office from the Metropolitan Opera, it sometimes seems that everything necessary or desirable about opera was said long ago. As an antidote to that tired feeling, Free-Lance writer Sylvia Wright now suggests (in the current issue of High Fidelity) a broad new approach to opera. Author Wright, founder of what may come to be known as the Vacuum School of Criticism, reports that every Saturday afternoon in winter she cleans her Manhattan apartment to the broadcast from the Metropolitan Opera, only to run into serious dusting dilemmas. "If I were not saddled with the Metropolitan, I would clean in the following order: straighten up the room, dust Venetian blinds, clean window sills, brush lampshades and upholstered furniture, dust surfaces, mop floor, vacuum rugs . . . This order makes sense: it chases the dirt from above to below. But operas don't work this way.

"Consider the Marriage of Figaro. It opens, as an opera should, with an overture. Overtures, though not all composers seem aware of it, are for tidying up. The overture to the Marriage of Figaro is one of the best; it impels you to a gay scurry ideal for the purpose. And then, on to the Venetian blinds! You can't. When the curtain goes up, Figaro is measuring and planning and Susanna is trying on a hat. Their music is for rearranging your furniture in different positions . . . And you don't have much time because soon Figaro will swing into Se vuol ballare, one of the best woodwork-washing pieces ever composed . . . How would I like an opera to open? With Venetian blinds--that is, music which requires delicacy and reaching--obviously a coloratura aria. Caro nome, for example, would be excellent . . . Wagner, during the Ring cycle, wants [the blinds] left dirty. The forest bird is his only Venetian-blind moment, though if one has mastered a sort of scooping motion, one can manage a few slats while Bruennhilde ho-yo-to-hoes . . . Parsifal makes me want to sit down."

Having laid down her general critical credo (to be amplified in a forthcoming book, Get Away From Me With Those Christmas Gifts), Author Wright ticks off special likes and dislikes:

OFFENBACH : "What a master of all sorts of cleaning music! And how considerate a composer! Tales of Hoffmann is studded with injunctions like 'Je commence,' 'Silence,' 'Attention,' or 'Voil`a,' handy indications that one is about to switch jobs, which allow a moment to put away the broom and get out the dustpan. Yet how haphazardly is his cleaning music placed!"

LEONCAVALLO: "The perfect selection for carpet sweeping is the chorus in the first act of I Pagliacci, which opens 'Din, don.' Although this chorus seems to be an effort to get everyone into church, I know it is for carpet sweeping because it is introduced by several vigorous 'Andiam's' intended to get me started."

PUCCINI: "Perfect for ironing. One needs some lush, lyrical and isolated selection to get one through a cotton blouse or dress. Puccini is particularly good if one does not have a steam iron and has to dampen things. One can cry automatically, gently and without despair, which helps in the dampening."

VERDI: "Aida opens badly, with some questioning chords. They question the whole idea of cleaning. The thing to do is to bide your time through Celeste Aida, the trio and so forth, while making something quiet and thoughtful like an icebox cake. The real cleaning music begins with the entrance of the king, Ramfis, the priests and Tutti. Or, di Vulcano al tempio muovi is a magnificent bathroom-floor scrubbing piece."

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