The first opera I ever saw was Der Meistersinger by Richard Wagner. It was a concert opera, performed in San Francisco in 1986, in parallel with The Ring Cycle, his legendary, greatest work. The show was four and a half hours long with the performers dressed in tuxedos and evening gowns, standing in a straight line at the front of the stage. There was no set or fancy costumes, no one wore a horned hat or breastplate. It was in German. My strongest memory was the deeply satisfying nap I took somewhere in the middle. The world premiere of Deborah Crooks’ Flight Lessons, at the Rhythmix Cultural Works on February 8, was gleefully nothing like my inaugural opera experience—it was remarkable and moving.
This concert opera had some folks wearing masks—bird masks—while playing rock and roll instruments, and singing and speaking in a language I’m much more familiar with, English. The story is unique, quirky, and local. As the director’s notes tell us, Flight Lessons is a “fictional, musical retelling” of the rescue and rehabilitation of an adult female peregrine falcon whose home was the Fruitvale Bridge and was, sadly, shot. Seven superb artists occupied the stage at Rhythmix and all of the seats before them were filled with enthusiastic fans—bird lovers, opera lovers, and maybe even fans of the nearby span. This magnificent seven were musicians, singers, and storytellers all rolled together.
From the first guitar strum of the first song, “List of Birds,” I was captured, banded, and gently placed in the nest of this tale. (I promise to try to keep the rest of my bird metaphors to a minimum.) From the second song, I learned a new word, “synurbic,” which means “species that thrive in an urban ecosystem,” like birds, for sure, but I suppose also squirrels, possums, and even us. I also learned that peregrine falcons are the fastest creatures on the planet, swifter than cheetahs and even Usain Bolt.
The structure of the opera was charming narration provided by biologist/falconer Lenny (Mick Shaffer), who introduced the musical numbers sung by Crooks’ crew that then unfolded like the wings of the story. Each song acquainted us with the aerial habitants, like birds on a wire, then focused on our heroine, Haya, played by Crooks herself. In addition to the music and vocals, a sheet hung on the wall and projected upon it were images of the bridge. Added to this were some sound effects—bird calls and screeches, street noise, and then the fatal gunshot.
The experience was incredibly joyful, powerful, and pedagogical. I learned where the name of Jingletown came from, that quirky neighborhood on the other side of the estuary, home to artists, fisher people, and the renowned White Elephant Sale. Way back when, workers would jostle their coins showing they’d gotten paid.
The 18 songs that make up the opera, all penned by Deborah Crooks, musically recall Bob Dylan, the Grateful Dead, and, no apologies, Counting Crows. The core of the delight came from how each piece was linked by a distinctive aesthetic—folksy, soft-rock-y, minus the pop beats that dominate Spotify and the hip-hop hooks that hypnotize on TikTok. So yes, I suppose, boomer music. Bass, lead, folk, resonator guitars, and keyboard were put to work by Kwame Copeland, Matt Langlois, Peter Whitehead, Tania Johnson and Shaffer, with dynamic percussion by Liz Stuart who wore a birder’s vest and hat while playing the cajon (a square drum you sit on) with brushes.
Flight Lessons is a full, rich story—the heroine’s journey—that takes us into the world of urban birds, with Deborah Crooks essentially holding up her binoculars for us so we can see and learn about those who flap and glide and soar through the air, animals in angelic form, really. Her opera was transformative, and let’s hope it takes off again soon so that others can put down their foolish devices and crane their necks upward to witness the phenomenon of flying life.
Gene Kahane is the founder of the Foodbank Players, a lifelong teacher, and former Poet Laureate for the City of Alameda. Reach him at [email protected]. His writing is collected at AlamedaPost.com/Gene-Kahane.
