Yaniv d'Or stands centre stage in a light suit, surrounded by his baroque ensemble, tapping a foot, virtually dancing to their introduction before breaking into song. He's a charismatic performer with a taut and energetic presence; and though he is a countertenor, he's an extremely unusual one, singing with full tone and natural, often unrestrained vibrato.
The first time I watched Eurovision, I was five years old. My parents had gone out and we had a babysitter. They left the television on so they could record the show (Israel were favourites) and that decision changed my life.
It's quite some feat by Katie Mitchell, the director of this risible Lucia di Lammermoor, to reduce the audience to almost uncontrollable laughter as Lucia and Alisa try to kill the bound, blindfolded Arturo. It's certainly funnier than the average sitcom. But I somehow doubt that was Mitchell's intention.
Yehudi Menuhin, whose centenary falls on April 22, was certainly a great violinist. Crucially, though, he was much more besides: as a humanitarian visionary he set in motion initiatives that transformed the world's musical landscape with ideas often well ahead of their time.
First, the positives: it's a rare pleasure to see the original version of Mussorgsky's Boris Godunov, and all the better to have its seven scenes played in one, 130-minute sweep, with no interval. Antonio Pappano's command of the music is impressive, and the chorus as dominant a character as it should be but rarely is.
Our Jerusalem Conservatory Hassadna, of which I am executive director, is guided by the belief that any child, regardless of socio-economic level, ethnicity or religious affiliation, should be provided with the opportunity to experience music instruction of the highest calibre.
David Amram has had an extraordinary life. He knew Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg and Pete Seeger, he played with jazz greats Dizzy Gillespie, Charles Mingus and Thelonious Monk and worked with Leonard Bernstein and Elia Kazan among many, many others.
Let's pass over the unforgivably drab scenery and costumes, and concentrate on the - wonderful - plusses of this first revival of Kasper Holten's production of Tchaikovsky's Eugene Onegin. Holten's central conceit - having the story performed as a flashback, with alter egos of both Tatyana and Onegin watching on - has been badly received generally.
Everyone - of a certain age - knows that Frankie became the Chairman of the Board. What they probably don't know was that the board was that of his local synagogue in Palm Springs. Of course, it was just an honorary job, but the Temple wanted to show their appreciation in some way. For without Frank Sinatra they might still be in what the estate agents like to call temporary accommodation.