Those who are familiar with pianist Simon Tedeschi’s artistry will realise that Gershwin and the pianist go back a long way. (In fact, he made his debut with Graham Lyell in the concert band version of Rhapsody in Blue at the tender age of twelve.) Not only is it central to his performance schedules; he plays it in different guises, (he’s been heard in all of the arrangements of Rhapsody in Blue from solo
piano and piano with percussion
to jazz band and Ferde Grofé’s
familiar 1942 version for full
orchestra.) The major question
arising from all of this is why has
taken Tedeschi so long to record
this material, which he describes as
“the accompaniment to my life and musical career”? Given the uniform mastery of these performances, it must be agreed that this project has been worth the wait. As early as the second selection on the disc, the gorgeous trilogy of blues-inflected Preludes, it is apparent that this is a Gershwin interpreter who can hold his own against anyone in the catalogue. Tedeschi has the full measure of these short but often elusive pieces and, as elsewhere in this remarkable recital, goes a long way towards proving
that it is no longer considered necessary to be……

This time last week I wasn’t sleeping much and in a cold sweat. But now, things feel very different. Agnes of God has started and the audiences are loving it. We’ve had lots of ‘”marvellous”, coupled with some “wows” and “wonderfuls” too, and a showering of critics stars, so the whole team is on a fantastic high! My relief is huge, but the challenge now is to keep the actors energy and concentration up and the freshness of the piece alive. Agnes of God is, as one audience member put it last night, an “interesting choice for the fringe festival”. When I read it about two years ago I was captivated by it. It’s based on a true story, of a young nun who is accused of murdering her own child. In the play, a court appointed psychiatrist is sent to assess her sanity however her investigation is complicated by the interference of the Mother Superior. The interrogations that follow force all involved to re-examine the meaning of faith and the power of love. This is not for anyone looking for some light entertainment. It’s challenging subject matter, few punches are pulled, and it makes for rich and serious theatre….

A musical ménage-à-trois of three composers from three cities.

When any classical musician wears milliondollar jewels and designer micro-dresses to industry events, is dubbed by Fleet Street as the “Trumpet Crumpet”, and sends the tabloids into a frenzy when she breaks up with her boyfriend, you could be forgiven for assuming that she’s just a rubbish player trading on her good looks. But from the moment Alison Balsom enters on Sound the Trumpet, her fifth album since the career-defining Caprice of 2006, all cynicism and doubts are cast aside. Playing natural (valveless) trumpets, the 34-year-old multi- Classical Brit award-winner is in rare form and this follow-up to last year’s Seraph, which featured scary contemporary concerto repertoire, contains ceremonial music by Britain’s two greatest early masters in the form. With an inspired English Concert, reunited on disc with their founder Trevor Pinnock for the first time since 2002 and captured vibrantly within the album’s rich sound palette, Balsom’s trumpet at first seems strangely subdued by comparison. But it soon becomes clear that it’s the less flashy tone of the period-instrument itself – blending rather than dominating like its modern successor would – and also part of an overall strategy to keep the trumpetweaving in and out of the album fabric……

This Saturday, Blue Fruit Theatre Company’s first show, Agnes of God, has an audience. That means all the work that has been done intensively over the last four weeks, as well as the months of thinking and planning before that, will be judged, critiqued and discussed. Depending on the applause and the atmosphere in the bar afterwards, as a director, I will know whether we have crafted something that deserves to be enjoyed as great theatre. Although no lives are at stake, no wars will be started, the pressure of putting on a good show right now feels huge. In just over two days there’s still a lot to do; some bits are little, others are bigger. Lines must be tightened, characters polished, scenes rejigged, pace upped, lights and sounds plotted, technical set ups trialled, props bought, costumes hemmed and more. And all must be done without panicking or worrying the actors that we’ve only three runs left, including a dress rehearsal, until we have a living, breathing, ticket buying audience. As I’m running round juggling life, three children, creative ideas, rose petals and rosary beads, I often wonder how I became so enveloped in this world and state of…

It’s eighteen months since I left the ROH’s Jette Parker Young Artists Programme, and the learning curve that started back in 2009 is certainly still, well, curving. With each new production I’m involved in, new lessons are learned and new observations made. I suppose the biggest thing I’ve learned, which can only be learned “on the job”, is how to preserve the voice during gruelling rehearsal periods, sometimes in less-than-ideal climates. Having come somewhat later to this profession than some of my colleagues, I missed out on opportunities to learn these vital lessons in college – I hadn’t embarked on an opera course until I came to the JPYAP in 2009, and so making the transition from chain-smoking, beer-swilling chorister to fledgling international artist meant some radical changes in life-style had to be made (I quit smoking in 2004 – still working on the beer thing). But I digress. Thirsty work My first role after leaving the Programme was the title role in Aïda at the Teatro Municipal de Santiago de Chile – the excited echoes of “Baptism by Fire” still resound in my ears. Being in the “second” cast, my schedule was less demanding than some of my “first” cast colleagues, and…

I’ve been reading lots of people’s Facebook statuses and having conversations with friends and colleagues about this topic quite a bit lately. A huge number of us experience prolonged periods of self-doubt and anxiety when it comes to facing the advancement of our careers. It usually creeps up when we’re about to go for an audition, or a performance, or even just updating our CVs and websites. The very thought that you might stick your head above the parapet and be judged by a panel of experts – or an audience of Auntie Jean and Uncle Ken – can send the mind into a flurry of confusion, often resulting in sweaty palms, palpitations, and all manner of other anxiety-related symptoms. It’s a fear that almost never goes away – I’ve spoken to dozens of singers at various stages in their careers, from those still in college to those with more than twenty years’ experience, and it’s same everywhere. So, what causes it? At this point I should say that I don’t have the answer – if I did I’d be a very wealthy person and wouldn’t have time to dedicate to my own anxieties, but I have a few thoughts,…

In the Australian opera landscape, a world premiere of an opera is a very unusual event. Have a look at what’s programmed for 2013. Neither Opera Australia nor the four state companies are premiering any new work of substance. The Victorian Opera will premiere The Magic Pudding by Calvin Bowman, but that is a children’s opera – a format that opera companies like to use to tick the “new work” box without having to take the artistic and financial risk of producing a mainstage world premiere that is a serious statement by a composer. Companies seem to be scared of producing new work, and when they do, there is often a sense that they do so out of obligation. In some cases it even feels like the company just wants to satisfy the “new work” requirements of government funding agencies. The financial and human resources a new composition receives are often as little as half as much of what’s thrown at a lavish new Bohème or Traviata. The marketing is often apologetic, with every effort being made to take emphasis off the fact that the new work in question features new music. And it’s not just the companies; many singers…

Not a month goes by without a story breaking somewhere around the world about an opera company in crisis. Everywhere they contend with dwindling and ageing audiences, worsening bottom lines and intense pressure from media, audiences and government to make their content more relevant to contemporary society. Opera company administrators have devised countless imaginative and elaborate schemes that attempt to solve these problems, asking themselves questions like “How can we expose more people to our product?” and “How can we strengthen the company's brand during tough economic times?”. Examples of such schemes include high-definition cinema broadcasts, outdoor events, improving the company’s online presence and so on. While these audience development schemes do no harm, they skirt the central issue, which is much deeper. The real problem is that the overall model on which opera companies were based in the 20th-century is itself becoming outdated. This model involves a creative hierarchy in which the voice, singers and roles are placed at the top, followed by repertoire and composers, with the production and directors coming last. This hierarchy leads to a curatorial priority of choosing operas that show off singers. Repertoire choices are often made according to what suits the next famous…

Compared to usual standards, this Musica Viva tour was as close to luxury as lowly choral musicians can achieve.

Over the Christmas holidays I leafed through a pile of old Limelight magazines rereading some excellent articles I only had time to skim before. One letter in the November 2012 edition caught my eye – Gilbert Whyte of Bowral took exception to an article by the pianist Sally Whitwell singing the praises of the “late bloomer” . Gilbert thought that late bloomer was synonymous with lack of talent – “late bloomers are late for a reason, they are behind the game or lack something that others do not, distinguishing them from true geniuses who overachieve beyond their years.” Gilbert goes on to complain that “no-one wants to see an up-and-coming 30-40 something soloist on stage when someone ten years younger could be giving a superior performance.” Ouch! Gilbert is obviously a raging ageist. To be fair, when it comes to the solo world, sitting up in front of an orchestra and jumping through technical hoops, Gilbert might be right. If you haven’t got the ability and temperament to manage that stressful situation in your 20s, it’s probably too late to start at 40. Being a soloist in a concerto is like being a sportsman, more suited to young nubile runners…

As a pianist, piano competitions strike fear into my heart. I was on hand for a little of last year’s Sydney International Piano Competition and waiting backstage with the competitors felt like being a guard in Marie Antoinette’s cell in the Paris Conciergerie, watching the poor woman before she was wheeled off in a cart to the guillotine. We had been expecting at least one competitor to run screaming from the building, but no one did. Most waited patiently as the stage manager with his white gloved hands wheeled out the piano of their choice and even more weirdly, checked their stool height. We knew from an attached sheet whether a pianist was sitting at 27.5 cm, or 34.2cm above sea-level. I doubt the audience could tell the difference, but this pre-stooling meant that none of the competitors had the opportunity to twiddle their perch to the correct height, thereby getting used to the stage and the environment. I have no problem with the idea of music competitions (no-one is holding a gun to the head of the competitors so they go into it with their eyes open) but must a keyboard race be so formal and old-fashioned? In the…