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 The real problem is that the overall model on which opera companies were based in the 20th-century is itself becoming outdated.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…

Some years ago a Hollywood film was released with the title Four Christmases. Except in Australia it had the release title of Four Holidays.  It was only when I saw the trailer in a cinema that I realised it had anything to do with Christmas. I’m not quite sure why it had a different title in this country, but my suspicion is that the distributors thought Four Christmases would offend non-Christians four times more than one simple Happy Holidays.  If this is the case why don’t we go the whole way, and remove any mention of Christ from Christmas in case He offend? The carol Twelve Days of Christmas would become The Twelve Days of Happy Holidays, O Christmas Tree would become O Happy Holiday Tree and Handel’s Messiah will eventually be known as the He’s Just A Naughty Boy Oratorio.  Let me just state that I am in no way a practising Christian (I am as secular as they come) but I stand up for the right of Christians to practice and celebrate their religion without embarrassment of offending others in our society who believe in something else, whether it be Islam, Hinduism, Sikhism or the Giant Black Bunny…

Malcolm Martineau is not just one of his generation’s finest accompanists, but also a first-rate musical curator with an impressive knack for matching songs to singers. This 2-CD collection of Britten songs is the second in its series, notable both for the breadth of repertoire assembled and as a platform for some of Britain’s rising vocal stars. Much of Britten’s vocal music was of course written expressly for his partner and music, Peter Pears. This collection includes both the first and last piano/voice cycles Britten wrote for the tenor: the amorous Seven Sonnets of Michelangelo (performed by Allan Clayton) and Who are these children?, given authentic Scots lilt by Nicky Spence. Robin Tritschler and Benjamin Hulett, take on the other Pears-inspired repertoire, with Hulett’s elegant, witty singing in The Red Cockatoo and other songs especially appealing. Maybe a greater variety among these high male voices would have been welcome – despite its common inspiration, Britten’s music for tenor is remarkably adaptable – but all four sing with admirable commitment and clarity. Also striking is baritone Benedict Nelson, in the dark and mystical Songs and Proverbs of William Blake, his slightly rough-hewn timbre a compelling jolt amid so many sweet-voiced tenors….

Meticulous. Polished. A perfectionist. These are terms frequently applied to Maurice Ravel (1875-1937). It is true that there is never a wasted note or an indistinct effect in his work. He is also linked inextricably to Debussy under the heading “Impressionist”, but Ravel’s music is less ethereal and his harmonic thinking conceived quite differently. (Debussy places unrelated chords in the ether; Ravel’s harmony is structured more like contemporary jazz. He employs chords of the 9th, 11th and 13th degrees of the scale but eliminates their roots.) Ravel’s personality was reserved and enigmatic – he was famously more relaxed with children than with adults – and this led to the perception that his music was merely polished surfaces. So it is, but I find tremendous heart in the melting opening of his String Quartet, or the tender closing chorus of the strangely affecting opera L’enfant et les Sortilèges. Nor does his polish make him a conservative composer. What could be more out there than Boléro? The climatic harmonic resolution is orgasmic! Scarbo from Gaspard de la nuit is extreme both in its technique and its inspiration. Virtuosity and spontaneity again combine in the rousing finale of the opera L’Heure espagnol in……

Keeping in mind that the Canadian pianist Glenn Gould would have celebrated his 80th birthday just a few months ago, Sony has seen fit to release a deluxe limited set which gathers together all of Gould’s JS Bach recordings, mostly in their original LP covers with the photogenic, iconoclastic Gould often in full focus. It is just as well that an impressive hardback book accompanies the set, thereby reproducing the liner notes (often by Gould himself) at a legible size. Of course, many regard his two wildly divergent studio recordings of the Goldberg Variations (1955 in mono, 1981 in digital stereo) as seminal, but there is much to be discovered here for the uninitiated. It should be noted, though, that as Sony has chosen to reproduce the albums as initially released, we occasionally get items overlapping throughout the set – excerpts from the Well-Tempered Clavier can also be found on the compilation Little Bach Book, for example. In this collection we have no fewer than five Goldberg recordings, including a live traversal from a late 1950s Salzburg recital and a CBC radio broadcast from as early as 1954. One wonders why certain concerti are repeated, and whether the stereo remix… Continue…

What a journey it’s been. Since 1987, Australian classical group Guitar Trek has been at the forefront of commissioning new works for guitar quartet, as well as working with luthiers to develop different-size guitars to form a true guitar family: treble, standard, baritone and bass (steel as well as nylon string guitars are utilised). This recording, actually made in 2007, has been released to celebrate 25 years of Guitar Trek and features works by some of Australia’s best-known composers for the instrument: Nigel Westlake, Phillip Houghton, Richard Charlton and Martin Wesley-Smith. The Guitar Trek line-up here features Timothy Kain, Minh Le Hoang, Daniel McKay and Harold Gretton (it’s since changed, with Bradley Kunda and Matt Withers replacing McKay and Gretton). If Westlake’s Six Fish scintillates with shimmering water, pointillistic textures and playful melodies, Houghton’s Nocturne, originally for piano, is a study in meditative if occasionally ruffled calm and moonlit passages. Charlton’s Capricorn Skies is “an attempt to capture in sound the mood or resonance of a variety of Australian skies and landscapes”. It’s a tour-de-force of sound-painting that finds Guitar Trek at its most dramatically expansive. The following non-linear Wave Radiance by Houghton, who describes it as a “sonic event”…

You wouldn’t have thought it perhaps, but the humble trio sonata (commonly defined as two violin lines plus continuo) was at the cutting edge of new music circa 1600. Nowhere was this better exemplified than in Italy, the cradle of the stile moderno as created by Cacini and Monteverdi. This delightful disc from London Baroque is the sixth of a series of eight chasing the history of the trio sonata across Europe. It should rightly be labelled the first, however, exploring as it does the form from embryonic beginnings through to its full flowering with Arcangelo Corelli. As always with new movements in music, there is a fascinating coalface at which numerous composers hew away, as yet unsure of what boundaries will be imposed upon them. Thus we have examples of canzonas, sinfonias, chaconnes, passacaglias or just plain popular dances, many of them in infectious triple time. Amongst numerous highlights are Buonamente’s haunting variations on La Romanesca, a pair of skipping Ciaconas from Merula and Cazzati and sprightly  sonatas from the likes of Castello, Legrenzi and Falconiero. Perhaps the strangest find is Marini’s Sonata Sopra Fuggi Dolente Core, which turns out to be a set of charming variations on the……

Simply put, this is a superb disc. Artists and repertoire are a perfect match – and what repertoire! Schubert’s Quintet is one of those pieces where every idea is musical gold and the juxtaposition of those ideas creates a totally captivating masterpiece. No matter that the work lasts some 55 minutes: chronological time seems hardly to register at all. In fact, there are moments (like the outer sections of the second-movement Adagio) where time seems utterly suspended and we are given a glimpse of eternity. This extraordinary outpouring from the very end of Schubert’s all too brief life is given a deeply thoughtful and beautifully polished reading by the Takács with guest cellist Ralph Kirshbaum, who fits seamlessly into the musical fabric. Underpinning the many glories of this recording is an exceptional sense of ensemble that generates the most finely gradated variations in timbre and texture. (The first two movements abound in wonderful examples of subtle colouring.) From the very first chord that emerges from sonic darkness, it is clear that the players will not shy away from probing the complexity of emotion that Schubert presents in this piece. The constantly changing light and shade of the music is movingly…

Australian audiences experienced Alina Ibragimova’s light, luminous tone firsthand in her recitals with pianist Cédric Tiberghien. It’s a sound as suited to the beloved Mendelssohn concerto as the 27-year-old violinist is to her partners on this disc, the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment. On gut strings, this warhorse is leavened with much-needed finesse. Ibragimova launches straight into the first movement’s Molto Appassionato with sweetly focused tone – no need to milk that aching, Jewish-sounding melody when it unfolds so simply. She lingers tantalisingly on lyrical phrases, but dispatches fast passages with whiplike agility (if a little less warmth), only occasionally on the verge of getting ahead of herself. It’s that balance of impetuous zeal reeled in by cool, crisp discipline that makes this young firebrand such an exciting performer. Her cadenza is heart-on-sleeve with some very exposed playing – delicate but not lacking in energy – and the riccochet passage passes through ear-bending dynamic gradation before melting back into the main theme of the orchestral recapitulation. Throughout most of the recording Ibragimova uses vibrato sparingly but judiciously. It’s a little soppy in the tranquil Andante, but still a palate cleanser compared to sickly sweet James Ehnes on Onyx. The…