-A layman's introduction to the first and second readings-

“That’s Fortunata. Trimalchio’s wife!”

Thus begins “Satyricon,” a one act opera buffa, 

some say opera seria (?)

by Bruno Maderna. (4/1920-11/1973)

I've enjoyed, have been amused by, and sometimes loved the Italians.

With "Satyricon" all I need is an English libretto, or an encyclopedia,

or grater attentiveness during the music appreciation lectures.

With the Italians we find the bakers, the shoemakers, the angels

and saints, Virna Lisi, born there, died there, an overwhelming

number of Popes, 

––and Don Fanucci;

the drunks at Club Marconi, their wives,

and their daughters..hmm..their daughters.–– 

But you might despise them, or try to ignore them or kill them

because they were in cahoots with the metal-headed Nazis during

the second war-to-end-all-wars.

But today, the Italians have mended their wounds

having hung them upside down to bleed the bad blood out.

but they're losing the romance of their crazy hand gestures,

due to a failure of the youngsters to comply with the instructions,

surrendering themselves to the nimbleness of their collective thumbs.

Maderna uses, borrows, and generally lifts from everybody;

Mozart, Wagner, Sousa’s tuba, and there’s even a snippet

of "La Boheme" tucked in there. (beautiful music, that "La Boheme")

This is my second encounter with “Satyricon” and my first,

following along with commentary, and with the libretto in hand.

I’m not getting it yet.

I’m not getting God yet.

I don’t get why I’m shelling-out a hundred fifty bucks a month

for better television reception, and after over seven decades under

the canopy of a gazillion stars, I continue to shriek at the firmament:

"Jesus Christ ! Is That Supposed To Be A Bull ?!"

So, "not getting" Maderna's "Satyricon?"

Well,–– it don't bother me none.

There's more than one way to skin an opera buffa.