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Fringe Festival: ""¦And Piano Make Three'
Jim Rutter
Love me, love my piano
JIM RUTTER
In all the years I’ve attended the Fringe Festival, I can’t remember ever seeing an opera (this year, fringe-goers can catch two). So when I read about composer Philip Seward’s And Piano Make Three, I thought, “I love opera, there’s opera at the Fringe,” and the syllogism completed itself.
However, beyond the music’s pleasing melodic lines, I didn’t find much to love about this production. Seward’s short one-act opera serializes the love triangle between the pianist Richard (Seward), his girlfriend Sarah (Patrice Boyd) and… Richard’s piano Elsie. It sounds cheesy, sure, but it’s not too much of a stretch: Rockers fetishize their guitars, concertmasters wax rhapsodic when playing a rare violin, and I was at least willing to indulge the concept.
If only the lyrics had lived up to this unusual idea. Instead, the first handful of songs concern Sarah’s love for a man who plays the piano, how she always wanted to date one, etc. The song about suppressed eroticism in their Chinese food was unintentionally worthy of a Mel Brooks send-up. Moreover, for all the flutter of Boyd’s voice (not to mention her oft excellent coloratura), she’s singing in English, and her articulation makes many passages unintelligible.
I’ve seen many “chamber operas,” but I’d modify the term to call Seward’s work history’s first “piano bar opera.” The element of kitsch, at least, sounds right.
JIM RUTTER
In all the years I’ve attended the Fringe Festival, I can’t remember ever seeing an opera (this year, fringe-goers can catch two). So when I read about composer Philip Seward’s And Piano Make Three, I thought, “I love opera, there’s opera at the Fringe,” and the syllogism completed itself.
However, beyond the music’s pleasing melodic lines, I didn’t find much to love about this production. Seward’s short one-act opera serializes the love triangle between the pianist Richard (Seward), his girlfriend Sarah (Patrice Boyd) and… Richard’s piano Elsie. It sounds cheesy, sure, but it’s not too much of a stretch: Rockers fetishize their guitars, concertmasters wax rhapsodic when playing a rare violin, and I was at least willing to indulge the concept.
If only the lyrics had lived up to this unusual idea. Instead, the first handful of songs concern Sarah’s love for a man who plays the piano, how she always wanted to date one, etc. The song about suppressed eroticism in their Chinese food was unintentionally worthy of a Mel Brooks send-up. Moreover, for all the flutter of Boyd’s voice (not to mention her oft excellent coloratura), she’s singing in English, and her articulation makes many passages unintelligible.
I’ve seen many “chamber operas,” but I’d modify the term to call Seward’s work history’s first “piano bar opera.” The element of kitsch, at least, sounds right.
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