Back in the Saddle

Apologies for the semi-extended absence. Newbie blogger though I may be, I do know enough to appreciate the tactical unwiseness unwisdom (I know, it looks just as wrong, but Webster's confirms it) of not feeding the hopper just at the moment when a particularly gratifying spate of links has brought a burst of traffic to the site (and heartfelt thanks to Kyle Gann, M. C-, Steve Hicken, Lisa Hirsch, Big Marc Geelhoed, Orpheus, Patricia Mitchell, the fearsome ACD and über-referrer Alex Ross for their respective kind welcomes).

Although I spent the last week in San Antonio for reasons having nothing whatever to do with music, I had hoped to put in a brief appearance or two right here. So much for hopes. I can attest that the San Antonio Holiday Inn does provide free wi-fi in its rooms, but only if the wireless antenna in your superannuated laptop has a reach of more than a few feet. In my case, then, not so much.

As of today, though, I find myself in Santa Fe, ready to hoover up the 2006 opera season over five nights, with a daytime stop or two at the Santa Fe Chamber Music Festival as time permits. Main draw, of course, is Thomas Adès' extravagantly praised Tempest, but the whole 50th season is devoted to new productions. More reports on those as they develop.

I haven't been in Santa Fe in several years, and walking around in the drizzle this afternoon, it felt odd to come here to her adopted home so soon after the death of Lorraine Hunt Lieberson. It's not as though there were ghosts, exactly, but there was no avoiding the awareness that this was where she had chosen to spend her final years. It will be a long time before we begin recovering from her loss.

PS: I remembered later just when it was that I was last in Santa Fe. It was for the 1997 world premiere of Peter Lieberson's Ashoka's Dream, which is how they met.