Wait, what? THAT'S who you have a problem looking at on stage?!?! She's a very good looking woman! Well, maybe some of the reviews weren't that bad. Maybe they were just misinterpreted. What did they say?
"A dumpy girl."- Michael Church from the Independent
"Unbelievable, unsightly, and unappealing."- Richard Morrison from the Times
"Dumpy... Stressed my Motherhood."- Rupert Christiansen from the Telegraph
"A chubby bundle of puppy-fat."- Andrew Clark from FT
HOLY SHIT!!!! SERIOUSLY????? Well, I guess we can rule misinterpretation out. Wow, they just sound like a bunch of hateful assholes.
The Review of The Reviewers:
"Journalist" for FT (which stands for Financial Times and not Fart Taco as I originally thought) Andrew Clark, not pictured here because he doesn't allow cameras under his bridge, called Ms Erraught's singing "...gloriously sung." He also called her "a chubby bundle of puppy-fat." As I stare into (what I assume, because seriously, there is no useable picture of him on the Google) his creepily off centered blue eyes, I wonder what gives him the right to call anyone names. I imagine he looks like a police sketch artist rendition of a rapist on the loose in northern Michigan. He looks like Hodor's less attractive brother, Dodor. I imagine he has a semi hipster hair cut that reminds me of those infomercials from the 90's for the Flowbee and the cowlick in the front seems unfortunately purposeful. His eyebrows look like they were drawn on with a sharpie that has almost run out and his half smile says to me "you'll never guess the special ingredient in my chili...pssst...it's children's tears" PS- Grow a pair and let us see what you look like.
Michael Church's review in the Independent compared Ms Erraught to "...a Scullery-maid." I will compare his face to the brush used by scullery-maids to clean out chamber pots. His sullen and deep under eye circles seem to tell the story of a man who has felt the sting of being rejected by all the women at a school for the blind. More than once. Either that or they are just the shadows cast down from the Everest summit camp that is his nose. His hair, resembling industrial strength steel wool about to scrub it's last pot, has obviously been recently tousled by none other than the single pillow on his twin sized bed. Also, I'm not one to judge fashion, but when your shirt looks like it's made from the cloths said "scullery maids" use to clean the windows, it might be time to head to K-Mart and get a new one. I think there are only 2 possible reasons why he isn't smiling in this pic- 1) He's afraid if he does, whats left of his soul will escape through the gaps of his rotting wooden teeth or 2) Well, I'm pretty sure its #1.
The Times Richard Morrison called Ms Erraught "...Unappealing." Pot. Kettle. Black. This guy looks like he takes artistic pictures of his scrotum. And then sends them to himself. By snail mail. He looks like the result of a threesome between Bill Gates, Beaker, and a sad, old banana.
Side note, I can't tell if he's a fat guy who's lost some weight or a skinny guy cake slicing his way up the scale but this just in, CNN is reporting black box pings from his neck roll.
"Stressed by motherhood" was how Rupert Christiansen (Garrison Kiellor's Prairie Home Parasitic Companion) of the Telegraph described singers. Interesting observation from a man who looks like he was raised by 3 apathetic hyenas and a pile of molted owl feathers. This guy's eyebrows look like they are trying to crawl off of his face and I don't blame them. He looks like he rubs coffee grounds into his jawline because he can't grow real facial hair. And he smells weird. Like an elderly person's sandal in a fire or urine after a meal of leafy greens and cinnamon schnapps. Like milk that accidentally spilled into your arm cast and spoiled in there, but you can't do anything about it for 4 weeks until you get the cast off. That kind of weird smell.
HOW DOES IT FEEL GUYS!!!!!! HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT!!!!!! Not so fun when the shoe is on the other foot, huh?
Ok, that was fun. I feel better. Now, I know that was somewhat harsh, but I needed to prove a couple of points. 1) Reviews are dumb. They are pointless, and they serve no purpose. All they do is make blurbs for people's websites. I assume the people who write them had other goals in life and they just didn't work out for them. I know singers need to have tough skin, and they do. They know that their performances will not be received well by everyone. But to attack them, or bodies? That just seems wrong. And 2) This putting body above singing has GOT TO STOP. It is out of control. Comparing someone to puppy-fat while calling their singing glorious? That shows where these reviewers priorities are. Looks over singing. WHY? This is opera, not the fucking night club. You don't see reviews for clubs that include lines like "Very attractive ladies and gentlemen, great bar, but the singing sounded like puppy farts." Is it HD that has gotten us to this point? Or competition with TV and Movies? Or is it the Kardashian's? Can we please blame it on the Kardashian's????
Someone tell me what we can do? I honestly don't know. But I do know that if we keep this "looks over voice" trend up, we won't end up with the opera we all truly love.
Alice Coote, world class mezzo-soprano, wrote a fantastic open letter to opera critics everywhere. She took the high road in addressing this serious issue.
We here at Bari-Chunks will never be able to articulate our thoughts as eloquently as Ms. Coote does in the article here. In fact, we will probably never take the high road. We can't even see the high road from where we are. And we're not ashamed of that. These so called "journalists" didn't take the high road either. And for that, they should be ashamed.
Post Script- We apparently posted the wrong Andrew Clark in our first run. Apologies. Our fact checkers were too busy eating ice cream. We assume that Andrew Clark (Financial Editor for Fart Taco) is a great guy. By the way, if that Andrew Clark reads this, we'd like to offer you a year long subscription to Bari-Chunks for FREE. And also, if you see your colleague Andrew Clark, tell him to quit picking on girls and grow a pair.