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The new Philip Glass opera The Perfect American, based on Peter Stephan Jungk’s novel of the same name, debuted on January 22 the Teatro Real in Madrid. The opera, which was inspired by unflattering myths and half-truths about Walt Disney, has received mostly mild reviews in publications like the NY Times and Opera News, though the LA Times was enthusiastic. Spanish daily El Pais reports that crowds have been respectful if not ecstatic: “It won a long applause. It was not rapturous, far from it. But there was not a single boo.”

Don’t fret if you’re unable to make it to Madrid. You can see the opera from the comfort of your own home and make your own judgements about how successfully it portrays Disney’s life and worldview. The opera will be broadcast live on Medici.tv on February 6. It appears to be free, though the site requires registration. The opera will remain viewable for 90 days after its online debut.

From the fascinating documentary I watched tonight on a late night AMERICAN MASTERS on PBS:

The art music of Philip Glass. He had me at the Cyclone-- one of his beloved Coney Island pastimes. For me, the Cyclone was like a mythic King Kong beating his chest at the top of the Empire State Building. I feared and cherished the vision of the iconic roller coaster that was a part of my childhood horizon. Its presence is integral to the Brooklyn landscape of my imagination. I could not imagine the beach and Surf Avenue and the Boardwalk and my memories without its existence. While Coney Island may be a tourist attraction today, to me it has always been a piece of my puzzle, my map, my DNA. When I drive through or around the city, I still see the World Trade Center where it should be, long after its corporal body fell to the ground.

When I was too young to know better, I let myself be persuaded to take my first ride on the Cyclone. Maybe I was promised a reward for my acquiescence-- like a ride on the Wonder Wheel or Carousel. Those were the rides I adored and went on time and again. All pleasure. No pain.

The Cyclone requires faith and release of control. Once you're strapped in and the horrific ascent up to the apex of the coaster begins, you're in and there's no turning back. (Even as I write these words, my stomach flip-flops remembering what it felt like to be locked in that seat.) Internally, I felt ashamed of my panic. Like a baby with separation anxieties. I wanted to conquer the fear and so I caved in, strapped in, and I took that ride.



I have never screamed so silently before or since. It's April 2009 and The Cyclone Lives. It has to. Without it, Coney Island would breathe its last breath. It IS Coney Island-- but I am very content to stand on the street and let others scream for me. That's music to my ears.

Here's a sample of the ride that killed the joys of roller coasting for me forever (with the sweet bonus of experiencing the ride with the master composer). I'd rather be..er... writing than riding.



Glass said music is not something he creates but, rather, hears. He just writes it down. The notes are out there.

Creativity is turned upside down in his art: Music should be seen, images should be heard.

I like that.

I do not like roller coasters.