In the blue corner and representing Italian opera, the Verdistas have been declaiming in high pitches about the wonder of their man's music. In the red corner and representing German opera, the Wagnerites have been intoning menacingly about the importance of the Tristan Chord (let it go, it's just a chord).
OK, it's not exactly Mayweather vs. Pacquiao. This is Radio 3, after all.
As far as I could tell the general conclusion was that, whilst Wagner was probably the more innovative and influential artist, it would have undoubtedly been preferable to share a pint and a sing-song with Verdi.
But one interesting point about myths and music was made by singer Robert Lloyd (around the 34 minute mark).
"The relationship between myth and music is a very interesting one. It goes back all the way to the origin of opera. In the earliest operas - Monteverdi and so on - all the people were mythical characters because there was a feeling that people didn't go around singing. Gods did that. And the thing about using Gods and myths is that it frees up the composer not to have to be so specifically mundane."
It reminds me of that scene in Peter Schaffer's Amadeus where Mozart dismisses the old Italian opera of his rivals as only being concerned with "people so lofty they sound as though they s**t marble". Mozart, of course, goes on to write operas about thoroughly non-lofty types like barbers.
What has this to do with musicals? Well, there is a parallel.
The loftiness of European operetta (all Princes and Duchesses in far-off lands) was brought low by the Broadway musical. On the comedy side, Rodgers and Hart wrote about showgirls and gamblers. On the drama side, Rodgers and Hammerstein wrote about farmers and cowboys.
Now I have a little theory (it's not going to harm anyone): that the key question for any musical is, why do people start singing? Answering that successfully goes a long way to making a successful show.
If you're dealing with the lofty and the mythical then you're already sufficiently removed from reality that characters bursting into song doesn't seem that odd. Frankly, if you're a god or a prince, you can generally do as you please. On the other hand, if a musical is dealing with the non-lofty, this is a problem. How do you make the non-lofty do something lofty like sing?
No doubt there are many answers but let me suggest one: optimism.
It is generally the case that musicals are optimistic things. Genuine tragedy is rare (West Side Story and the Cliff Richard show Heathcliff are obvious examples, although tragic in very different ways). Perhaps then this optimism is inherent in the form itself, driven by the need to make non-lofty characters act in a lofty way, and producing a kind of upward movement in the story. To put it another way, musicals by their very nature set out to find the marvellous in the mundane, the godly within the gambler.
If that isn't being too lofty.
If you're dealing with the lofty and the mythical then you're already sufficiently removed from reality that characters bursting into song doesn't seem that odd. Frankly, if you're a god or a prince, you can generally do as you please. On the other hand, if a musical is dealing with the non-lofty, this is a problem. How do you make the non-lofty do something lofty like sing?
No doubt there are many answers but let me suggest one: optimism.
It is generally the case that musicals are optimistic things. Genuine tragedy is rare (West Side Story and the Cliff Richard show Heathcliff are obvious examples, although tragic in very different ways). Perhaps then this optimism is inherent in the form itself, driven by the need to make non-lofty characters act in a lofty way, and producing a kind of upward movement in the story. To put it another way, musicals by their very nature set out to find the marvellous in the mundane, the godly within the gambler.
If that isn't being too lofty.
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