The program notes of Calidoscopi, the latest creation by Estudi Zero, state that “characters are moved by absurd, violent, or profoundly human situations”. True, but it would be even more so if the conjunction were copulative instead of disjunctive. If the situations are absurd and violent, it is clear that they are undeniably very human. The caricature does not distort reality but accentuates it, so that this bold, irrational, and bizarre point makes the metaphorical drawing of the human condition arrive with more effectiveness. That the performance is composed of different small stories brings the Sans seal, in such a way that it transports us to that journey that Karl Valentin was piloting in this very room. For the occasion, several authors are listed in the roster of Calidoscopi –Esteve Soler, Juan Mayorga and Joël Pommerat–, which makes the mood of the different sketches raise the heat of each one considerably. There is no white humor. All contain a high dose of venom, in the same proportion as causticity and sarcasm, and without fear of crossing red lines.The first story, that of the man run over by a bus, about which I will say no more because it would be a spoiler, sets the tone of the performance. Black humor in its purest form. Human cruelty or lack of humanity, which in this case is the same, shines with all its splendor. That of the couple who confess to their twenty-year-old son that he was not a desired child, exponentially increases the portion of inhumanity. That of the seller of anything you can imagine is a mirror directed towards the stalls. And so on. All in all, rounded off with a musical number performed by Dominic Hull, a My way in the purest crooner style, accompanied by the rest of the cast and dressed as Fortunio Bonanova and the Glamouramas were in their glorious American years. Naturally, in such a diverse ensemble it is not easy to find the ideal point of homogeneity, but, even so, the performance treasures enough uniformity, both in the different stories and in the interpretation of the seven protagonists, who in such a marathon performance become an immense crowd of characters, always dressed very differently. Only a small caveat, the wigs are not very necessary. With the different changes of register, which are there, it is enough.

Time travel, a long-held human obsession, was made possible by Studium. To begin with, they traded their usual haunts for the Church of La Mercè, consecrated in 1661—nothing is a coincidence—the very time when all the composers featured in this concert were writing the pieces we heard last Monday. Furthermore, they did so with a lineup that would very likely have been quite similar to those of the 17th century: two violins, Ramon Andreu and Bernat Martí; a cello, Rosa Cañellas; an organ, Pedro Aguiló; and two sopranos, Irene Mas and Raquel Ribas. There was no need to close our eyes, or climb into Doc Brown's DeLorean, or enter the time machine imagined by H.G. Wells, nor was it even necessary for the musicians of Studium Aureum's small orchestra, conducted by Carles Ponseti, to use period instruments. Everything was much simpler; just by listening, we were able to enjoy a delightful and rich journey through the Italian Baroque. With such a small effort, we encountered as many as ten contemporary and fellow Italian musicians. The evening began with Girolamo Frescobaldi, with Canzon seconda, for two violins and continuo. From the very first agreements, it was enough to know that the teleportation had been a success. Just in case there were any doubts, the two sopranos were added to perform the Hail most noble virga Jesse, by Michelangelo Grancini, and so on, Dario Castello, Giovanni P. Cima, Salamone Grassi, and Arcangelo Corelli, among others, made an appearance.

Again, The elisir He again gave the impression that he preaches the jocoso Doctor Dulcamara, sung for this occasion by the great Ambrogio Maestri, is a role he has performed so many times throughout his career that it has become a paradigmatic canon. And regardless of his voice's decline, he is still the smooth-talking purveyor of the cure-all potion. Meanwhile, Javier Camarena/Nemorino, who debuted at the Liceu thirteen seasons ago in this role, was still unwell, and Michael Spyres took over, who, it should be remembered, had sung it the day before. There was little applause at the end of almost any of the most famous and acclaimed arias, until he sang the renowned... A furtive tearWith that, he woke the audience up as if someone had stepped on a lightbulb. A little unfair, they made up for it later, and the party ended as always, with the audience in a frenzy, accompanying Dulcamara when she did the obligatory encore, the usual one. Udite, Udite Oh! Rusticio.

The only person who has a monument on Palma's Paseo del Born wasn't a king, a general, a politician, or a saint. Nor was he born in Mallorca, but he loved it with all his soul. He was an artist: a world-famous musician of Korean origin who composed his country's national anthem and settled on the island, where he created and conducted his orchestra, the predecessor of today's Balearic Symphony Orchestra. Let us remember Eaktay Ahn on the 60th anniversary of his death, September 16, 1965.