We've heard for several years now that the Metropolitan Opera is revolutionizing the genre with its theatrical values, populist outreach and media savvy. Absolutely true. But with regard to its repertoire, the company remains mired in the past. (I was going to say hopelessly, but nothing during Peter Gelb’s tenure has proved hopeless so far.) Opera companies do their planning ages in advance, which probably explains why the Met’s repertoire remains encumbered by the gloomy malaise of past administrations. The company’s track record for fostering the creation of new pieces is abysmal: a mere handful of works in the modern era, few of which have gained traction past a premiere and, perhaps, a revival.

There are signs of change at hand. The Met’s first production of Philip Glass’s Satyagraha opens this week. John Adams’s much-feted Doctor Atomic is due next season. Beyond that, we now know that Adams’s Nixon in China and a revival of John Corigliano’s The Ghosts of Versailles are on the way. The Tempest, an imaginative Shakespeare setting by English composer Thomas Adès, will arrive (at last) just a few seasons down the line.

That’s progress, if not exactly visionary boldness. But a company with the Met’s size and stature owes the world more. Operas acknowledged as being the finest of the modern era should have been staged here long ago: not just The Tempest but György Ligeti’s Le Grand Macabre, Olivier Messiaen’s Saint Franois d’Assise, Kaija Saariaho’s L’amour de Loin, works by Alfred Schnittke, Harrison Birtwistle, Luigi Dallapiccola, Judith Weir—the list of composers whose works ought to be a part of the Met’s lifeblood goes on and on. Couldn’t you just imagine what a conductor like James Levine would do with scores like these? Actually, there’s no need to imagine—just think of his extraordinary work in Schoenberg’s Moses und Aron, or Berg’s Wozzeck and Lulu.

At the same time, I would place a new emphasis on scouting out the promising opera composers of tomorrow—even those not yet identified as such. Here again, we’ve seen signs of progress in the Met’s collaborative workshop program with the Lincoln Center Theater. Of those participating, Osvaldo Golijov—whose Daedalus experienced a tragic setback in the unexpected death of Anthony Minghella, the composer’s intended collaborator—will surely produce something worth staging. Nico Muhly is a surprising and wonderful recent addition. But does anyone truly think Rufus Wainwright, however gifted, is liable to produce an opera of lasting resonance? And aren’t there countless composers of substance and proven talent who might benefit?

The current Metropolitan Opera is an exciting place, with new surprises arriving every day. Populist outreach has provided a gigantic shot in the arm for the company. But without a genuine investment in expanding the repertoire, the audience for whom opera is a vital, relevant art form can only erode. My fix: Find the new composers. Pay them well. And fund everything with an unending run of star-studded Zeffirelli showboat productions of standard warhorses (in case my hedge-funde patron doesn't materialize). That’s the kind of labor those old beasts should really be turned to.