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An equally inspiring example of \"people's\" opera is George Martin's Verdi at the Golden Gate: Opera and San Francisco in the Gold Rush Years which, were it not so meticulously researched, might be taken for fiction. In the early 19th century adventurous troupes of Italian singers would sail down South America stopping off to give performances; the truly adventurous rounded the Horn and went north, some as far as San Francisco, which, with the 1850s Gold Rush became an all drinkin', all gamblin', all shootin' rough house. Opera in the saloons and dance halls was a high-risk operation, but one composer above all silenced audiences and became universally popular - Verdi. And this was before the late masterworks: the music that seized the imagination of these rowdy roughnecks was from the early works, only now re-emerging from obscurity. Martin tells this extraordinary story with irresistible verve.

First there is the [Luciano Pavarotti] who is one of the great singers of the day and has been for 40 years. This Pavarotti continues a very limited schedule of appearances at such leading houses as London's Royal Opera Covent Garden and New York's Metropolitan Opera. Perhaps one should add Pavarotti the astute businessman, though just how astute must be left to the judgment of the authorities in Italy where he is under investigation for little problems with tax. There is also Pavarotti the horse lover and, perhaps most mysterious of all, Pavarotti the sex symbol. For the foreseeable future there is no end in sight of Pavarotti the pop star, an act maintained with utter showbiz professionalism. As Gypsy Rose Lee's mother rightly remarked, \"You gotta have a gimmick,\" and Pavarotti's white handkerchief remains one of the most amiable there is.

Yet the fact remains that last week all I knew about [Madonna] could be written on the back of a CD sleeve. I knew she had unconventional taste in spiky foundation garments (how's that for BOF usage?), that a book called something like In Bed with Madonna, a good novel and a mug of cocoa had had trouble with Her Majesty's Customs and Excise, hence that she was an extremely shrewd businesswoman. She was reputed to walk all over men, often literally, and to reverse traditional intergender behavioural patterns. Good on her. Oh, and I had seen the movie Dick Tracy, in which she played the vamp and sang four songs written for her by Stephen Sondheim. Mr. Sondheim was reported to be crazy for her. Yet the fact remains that last week all I knew about Madonna could be written on the back of a CD sleeve. I knew she had unconventional taste in spiky foundation garments (how's that for BOF usage?), that a book called something like In Bed with Madonna, a good novel and a mug of cocoa had had trouble with Her Majesty's Customs and Excise, hence that she was an extremely shrewd businesswoman. She was reputed to walk all over men, often literally, and to reverse traditional intergender behavioural patterns. Good on her. Oh, and I had seen the movie Dick Tracy, in which she played the vamp and sang four songs written for her by Stephen Sondheim. Mr. Sondheim was reported to be crazy for her. Madonna writes most of her own material, so it is unfortunate to have to report that the best song all weekend was Davenport and Cooley's Fever, immortalized by [Peggy Lee]. Admittedly, Madonna sings it very well.