Brian, 16, is instant-messaging. He’s chatting with a girl he’s never met in person—a girl who, by the looks of her avatar, seems both his age and more beautiful than any girl who’s ever deigned to talk to him. And she just asked to take the chat private.
Sitting at his laptop, in his room, Brian pauses for a moment; his mouth hangs between a smile and an inhaled breath. He gets up, hurries to the door, makes sure his parents aren’t on the other side. He locks it. He hustles around his room again, around his bed and back to his computer—I can see the disbelief, awe, anxiety on his face—and sits back down at the computer. They’re in a private chat room now, this girl and him.
He faces the laptop. On his screen, words appear from the girl: “What’s going on?”
The words appear on a tower as tall as a house behind Brian’s head. Hazy music wafts around him, music over which the girl—her name’s Rebecca—sings: “What’s going on?” The music swirls again.
Thousands of us are watching him, watching him respond, seeing what he’ll do next.
How do you depict the Internet in art? I can think of few current aesthetic crises as vital as this one. As the writer Quinn Norton has said, “Right now my field must tackle describing a world where falling in love, going to war and filling out tax forms looks the same; it looks like typing.”
I grew up typing. Hours of my adolescence passed in AOL Instant Messenger chats, in Facebook comment threads, in earnest email confessions. So when I heard, four years ago, that a new opera would address teenagers, the web, and the anxieties of both, I was intrigued.
That opera is called Two Boys, and it premiered last week at the Metropolitan Opera in New York City. It runs until the middle of November.
Nico Muhly, its composer, is 32, the youngest musician ever commissioned by the Metropolitan Opera. You have probably heard his music: He scored the film The Reader, played keyboards with the Arcade Fire on Saturday Night Live, orchestrated songs for albums by Grizzly Bear and Sigur Rós’s Jonsi. He seems easy to categorize with the faddish language of the commercially hip. As William Robin joked in the New Yorker last week: “fashion-friendly, foodie, indie-classicist, Millennial tweets—while audaciously writing pop and classical music at the same time!”
Muhly has constructed something more substantial with his career. He’s busy: Since Two Boys was commissioned six years ago, he’s composed more than 70 pieces. As Robin puts it, Muhly’s oeuvre subverts a “Beethoven Paradigm,” common to the last century of classical music, in which an aloof artist emits a single, epochal work every few years, and for it substitutes a “Vivaldi Paradigm,” where music becomes the workaday product of a chipper, collaborative craftsman. Reading Robin’s essay, I thought of the “practice your passion” rhetoric of life hack blogs and maker culture mags. I thought of this tweet:
whenever mad young composers are like "gimme advice" I always want to say "watch jiro dreams of sushi" and then do that but music.— Nico Muhly (@nicomuhly) October 6, 2013
I thought even of that Ira Glass video where he admonishes wannabe storytellers to “work through the suck.” Muhly isn’t nearly the only composer to embody that attitude—if it’s how artists get better, they all do, right?—but his career might seem its avatar.
At a Two Boys rehearsal, he sat mostly in the audience with his laptop, but dashed every so often to the stage or to the director’s side. In conversation, he can layer phrases so quickly that he trips over them; in person, he was inordinately helpful. He wears mostly draping black things, and his head is shaved save for a central, confetti-like poof; in a Reddit AMA, he said that, with it, “normally we’re going for a sort of Guggenheim Bilbao effect.”
The story unfolds as a police procedural. Set in the north of England in 2003, the audience follows Anne Strawson, a detective charged with investigating the stabbing of a 13-year-old boy named Jake.
The main suspect is a 16-year-old boy named Brian, the only witness to the crime. But instead of a confession, he supplies first surliness, then an intricate alibi: Shadowy friends of his, including a “perv” gardener and a high-ranking female officer of the M15, ordered him to stab the younger boy. Moreover, he has been negotiating these forces for some time: His girlfriend, Rebecca, Jake’s sister, whom he knew only through chatrooms, was recently raped and murdered by the “perv” gardener. There are further details, but Brian is made to understand by all the members of his network that he can either stab Jake or die, and that, regardless, Jake will soon die of cancer.
Based on real events that occurred in 2003, Two Boys’ story was most popularly described in a Vanity Fair article. There, as in the opera, the twist is the same: Jake, this 13-year-old boy, was and always had been every person in Brian’s network of chatroom friends. When Brian stabs Jake, Jake has incited it.
“This is an opera that is essentially set on the Internet,” says Mark Grimmer. “And we don’t know what the Internet really looks like.”