HE’S been called the Matt Drudge of the opera world – the outsider with the dish on divas.James Jorden is the feared, revered creator of parterre.com, a biting, often bitchy roundup of raves, rants, reviews and gossip that’s read by everyone who’s anyone in opera.
“We all read it online in the office,” confides a top opera-star manager. “Jorden and his writers are often outrageous, but they’re not dumb – and it’s obvious they know opera.”
Bald, buff and clad in black leather, Jorden looks as intimidating as his invective. (“Say what you will about the Pav’s ‘mishy-mashy’ concerts,” he sniped about Cecilia Bartoli recently, “at least he shows up!”)
But looks are deceiving. Underneath that biker jacket is a Maria Callas tattoo on his back – and a passion that’s anything but skin-deep.
Over a cup of herbal tea, he spoke thoughtfully about “the demented art,” its stars and how he came to produce a “Page Six” for Puccini mavens.
It started with “Carmen.” Growing up in Louisiana, Jorden was 12 when his mother gave him her Leontyne Price LP. “I was in love before the end of Side 1,” he says.
Eventually he came to New York, staged a few operas and temped in between. Seven years ago, on what would have been Callas’ 70th birthday, he photocopied a single-page tribute and left it at the Metropolitan Opera House and some record shops.
“People asked how they could subscribe,” he recalls. And so he started Parterre Box, a bimonthly ‘zine with his own commentary (writing as the cheeky La Cieca) as well as contributions from an unpaid band of opera buffs – a Fortune 500 exec and psychiatric social worker, among them – with noms de plume like Enzo Bordello and Dawn Fatale.
Five years ago, Jorden put the ‘zine online, the better to deliver up-to-the-minute dish.
One of his most delicious scoops came from a patrons’ board meeting at the Met. Jorden, invited there by a friend, heard manager Joe Volpe suggest they help New York Times critic Bernard Holland, who’s blasted many a Met production, “look for a new career.”
“I was so happy to break that,” Jorden says. “I literally ran to my apartment, pulled up the file – my hands were shaking – and by 6 that evening it was up.”
Not surprisingly, Jorden ruffles a lot of feathers – especially at the Met, which has yet to sell Parterre Box in its gift shop.
“I do think the business is very aware of Parterre, and from what I understand, everyone reads it,” says renowned Met soprano Catherine Malfitano. “I enjoy the playfulness and creativity of the commentary, though sometimes I’m happy I’m not on the receiving end.”
Jorden often gets his news from opera buffs and the singers themselves. But, as Drudge can attest, not all hot tips turn out to be true.
One “usually reliable” source last season told Jorden that bass/baritone Samuel Ramey was going to cancel his Met performances of “Mefistofeles.” Since the press office was closed, Jorden says, there was no way to check – but, determined not to be scooped, he ran it anyway.
Then Jorden got an e-mail – from Ramey himself.
“He wrote, ‘I don’t know where this stuff comes from, but I’m feeling fine . . . the next time, please e-mail me and check it,'” Jorden says.
But this opera buff with a bullhorn doesn’t repeat everything he hears.
“At least once a year, I get a tip that Placido Domingo is having an affair with someone or other,” he shrugs. “Now, if he were having an affair with a man, I might go with that.”
In any event, he says, “I don’t see how it affects his performance.”
And ultimately, that’s all that counts.
“Maria Callas once called [opera] ‘a short wire to the emotions,'” Jorden says. “You’ve got 1,000 people on stage, huge sound coming at you . . . the Grand Opera Buzz feels like really excellent speed but it’s not nearly so hard on your liver.”