RogerEvansOnline.com

At a professional conference this week, I’ve tried a different, wired approach to the exchange of business cards. When people handed me their often handsome cards made from trees, with their permission I immediately used the handy Evernote program to enter their e-mail address into my iPhone. I then easily e-mailed them a cyber-card with all my information given in a way that is easy for them to employ in their own electronic media — which, after all, is how they will interact with me in the overwhelming majority of instances.

There is, however, a contrary possibility, Meatcards.

I had the incomparable privilege of being present this evening at the world premiere of a new opera by André Previn. That it knocked my socks off, musically and dramatically, was not in the least overshadowed by something that I nevertheless feel compelled to comment on.

After an amplified announcement from a disembodied General Director (the estimable Anthony Freud) welcomed us and implored us to turn off our digital noisemakers (this grating exercise being prevalent even in such venerable venues as the Liceu of Barcelona), we were treated to what a colleague assured me was a full two minutes of scrolled credits acknowledging sponsors of various kinds and degrees on the supertitle screen. It was exactly like the introduction to a television show, except for the fact that it occurred in silence.

While generous donors are always worthy of gratitude, this really, really seemed to go too far. The word vulgar doesn’t cover it. To say, “Oh, well, what do you expect in Houston?” would be equally facile and inadequate. This is, after all, the opera company that has given us a musical and theatrical flowering of the late efforts of one of the most remarkable and versatile musicians of our time on the occasion of his 80th birthday celebrations. So they cannot be blithely dismissed. But, oh …