http://icliverpool.icnetwork.co.uk/capi ... _page.html
Now Costello, who only learned to read and write music 10 years ago, has taken his classical turn further, writing an opera about children's writer Hans Christian Andersen to debut at the Copenhagen Royal Opera Theatre in October.
He says: "Of course the minute opera is mentioned it's like a big, fat woman with a Viking helmet. Everyone sees that image and thinks that it has to sound like Puccini.
"What I am actually doing is telling a story about Andersen. I didn't want to set one of the tales because that has been done.
"I'm right in the process of writing it - it's about Andersen who was this weird misfit kind of guy who came from a very poor background and rose to prominence because he basically invented children's stories. Andersen was a very conflicted person in his own sexuality. He kept falling in love with the wrong people.
"But it is not going to be written for an orchestra and I'm singing two of the roles in the initial production so it won't be like formal opera."
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Andersen was a very conflicted person in his own sexuality. He kept falling in love with the wrong people.
Indeed!
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http://www.underthesun.cc/Classics/Ande ... eSaucyBoy/
The Saucy Boy ( 1835)
By Hans Christian Andersen
ONCE upon a time there was an old poet, one of those
right good old poets.
One evening, as he was sitting at home, there was a
terrible storm going on outside; the rain was pouring
down, but the old poet sat comfortably in his
chimney-corner, where the fire was burning and the
apples were roasting.
“There will not be a dry thread left on the poor
people who are out in this weather,” he said.
“Oh, open the door! I am so cold and wet through,”
called a little child outside. It was crying and
knocking at the door, whilst the rain was pouring down
and the wind was rattling all the windows.
“Poor creature!” said the poet, and got up and opened
the door. Before him stood a little boy; he was naked,
and the water flowed from his long fair locks. He was
shivering with cold; if he had not been let in, he
would certainly have perished in the storm.
“Poor little thing!” said the poet, and took him by
the hand. “Come to me; I will soon warm you. You shall
have some wine and an apple, for you are such a pretty
boy.”
And he was, too. His eyes sparkled like two bright
stars, and although the water flowed down from his
fair locks, they still curled quite beautifully.
He looked like a little angel, but was pale with cold,
and trembling all over. In his hand he held a splendid
bow, but it had been entirely spoilt by the rain, and
the colours of the pretty arrows had run into one
another by getting wet.
The old man sat down by the fire, and taking the
little boy on his knee, wrung the water out of his
locks and warmed his hands in his own.
He then made him some hot spiced wine, which quickly
revived him; so that with reddening cheeks, he sprang
upon the floor and danced around the old man.
“You are a merry boy,” said the latter. “What is your
name?”
“My name is Cupid,” he answered. “Don’t you know me?
There lies my bow. I shoot with that, you know. Look,
the weather is getting fine again—the moon is
shining.”
“But your bow is spoilt,” said the old poet.
“That would be unfortunate,” said the little boy,
taking it up and looking at it. “Oh, it’s quite dry
and isn’t damaged at all. The string is quite tight;
I’ll try it.” So, drawing it back, he took an arrow,
aimed, and shot the good old poet right in the heart.
“Do you see now that my bow was not spoilt?” he said,
and, loudly laughing, ran away. What a naughty boy to
shoot the old poet like that, who had taken him into
his warm room, had been so good to him, and had given
him the nicest wine and the best apple!
The good old man lay upon the floor crying; he was
really shot in the heart. “Oh!” he cried, “what a
naughty boy this Cupid is! I shall tell all the good
children about this, so that they take care never to
play with him, lest he hurt them.”
And all good children, both girls and boys, whom he
told about this, were on their guard against wicked
Cupid; but he deceives them all the same, for he is
very deep. When the students come out of class, he
walks beside them with a book under his arm, and
wearing a black coat. They cannot recognize him. And
then, if they take him by the arm, believing him to be
a student too, he sticks an arrow into their chest.
And when the girls go to church to be confirmed, he is
amongst them too. In fact, he is always after people.
He sits in the large chandelier in the theatre and
blazes away, so that people think it is a lamp; but
they soon find out their mistake. He walks about in
the castle garden and on the promenades. Yes, once he
shot your father and your mother in the heart too.
Just ask them, and you will hear what they say. Oh! he
is a bad boy, this Cupid, and you must never have
anything to do with him, for he is after every one.
Just think, he even shot an arrow at old grandmother;
but that was a long time ago. The wound has long been
healed, but such things are never forgotten.
Now you know what a bad boy this wicked Cupid is.