But what Freeman asks of his circus presupposes a cast of renaissance men and women who can

But what Freeman asks of his circus presupposes a cast of renaissance men and women who can act, tell jokes, turn somersaults, do magic tricks, and generally dazzle an audience with vocal personality. We also know that nestling in the coarseness of his stage style is, occasionally, a special vision of what opera can achieve as theatre; and there have been times in the past when some small piece of business in one of Freeman's shoestring- budget shows has come closer to articulating the truth of a dramatic moment than a panoply of top Cs and tiaras ever could. In principle there's nothing wrong with the idea of the Flute as circus entertainment: it must have been very like that under Shikaneder at the Freihaustheater in 1791. But by the same token, when Freeman fails he goes down like the fleet at Scapa Flow, with all hands and a desperate sense of duty; and the new Magic Flute that opened on Wednesday at the QEH sinks like a stone, its failure predetermined by the circus concept Freeman hangs around its neck. And that's all a lot of people care about these days.Interview by Matthew Brace. David Freeman's Opera Factory productions are what arts apologists have in mind when they talk about the Right to Fail: a catalogue of trial and error we put up with - and feel fondly for - because we know that someone, somewhere needs to cultivate the shabby margins of the opera world if those margins are ever to be extended. I had been working as a sales assistant on the Harrow Road in a place called Arthur's Modern Menswear - how about that for a name? But I was bored I used to go to Soho when I was a teenager.

I would tell my mother I was going to Hyde Park, but really I would go down and see people like Cliff Richard and Tommy Steele perform.I got a job working in one of John Stephen's shops. I would clear everybody out (all these chains of High Street shops), and give it back to talented, creative individuals. I would give them a plot at a sensible rent and they could produce and sell good stuff, without the pressure of paying ridiculous rents.Of course, this couldn't happen because it wouldn't make so much money. A lot of Asians began coming to London and greedy white landlords would cram 10 of them into one shop and then charge them a high rent.Westminster council should buy Carnaby Street and they should get someone like myself to change it.

They were like early yuppies and they changed Carnaby Street completely. If you wanted drugs all you had to do was go to the Roaring 20s club in Carnaby Street and score.In the mid-Sixties there were lots of people with no business experience, but loads of talent and huge amounts of money in rock 'n' roll and fashion.You'd never go to a business meeting straight: you were always stoned, so you'd take along an accountant and a solicitor and they would stick bits of paper in front of your face and tell you where to sign.They did keep straight and they were the guys who eventually stole everything from Carnaby Street. I wish I knew where it was now.When the Abbey Road album came out I got an Abbey Road street sign and got it signed by The Beatles and put it in the shop window. I wish I hadn't, because I came to work one morning and found the window smashed and it was gone There were a lot of drugs, too I was part of all that, I'm not embarrassed about it. They could come to Carnaby Street and not be bothered.It was alternative, it was an adventure and we were different. We used to wear yellow and orange shirts, three-button silk suits There were motor scooters. It wasn't just the High Street, like it is now.Later, I had my own shop, selling tunics I'd wear an old hussar's tunic around the shop It had a furry collar and braid on the front It was used in the film The Charge of the Light Brigade.