Chanticleer, Harold and Maud

I cannot think of an original thing to add to the praise of Chanticleer. They came, they sang, I swooned. The only disappointing aspect of this marvelous concert was the audience. The Jackson Hall of the Mondavi Center was about one-quarter full. Yet these elegant, gifted gentlemen sang as if before a full house at Covent Garden and we gave them the loudest acknowledgement we could muster. They will be back in December for a Christmas concert (I'll be doing Navidad at the beach). The house will be full, I'm sure. This time? Three o'clock on a gorgeous fall Sunday; just bad timing.

As for "Harold and Maud", it holds up. I like to see it every few years just to remind myself of the transformative power of love. Ruth Gordon is as mischievious and wise as ever; Bud Cort still amazed by his experience with her and the salvation it brings. And there, in the sunset, were the old Emeryville Flats, now long gone, paved over by freeway and by-pass and on-ramp. Transformation of a darker sort.