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…

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…