Rehearsal Magazine: The Archive

For several years while at university, and while beginning my career in arts administration, I ran an online magazine called Rehearsal. Here is a (rather long) selection of work, for posterity. Most of these interviews were conducted by me, but some were commissioned. I learned so much running this platform and am incredibly proud of the work that myself and my collaborators made for Australian music students and industry members.

In Conversation: Lotte Betts-Dean

I caught up with Lotte Betts-Dean really early in the morning at the start of the week, following her whirlwind tour of Tasmania. I’ve known Lotte for a number of years now, and whenever we speak I’m super compelled by her sense of fun and her innate musicality. It’s in everything she does – on and off stage. Here, over flat whites, we talk about programming, hustling overseas and the people that make this crazy freelance music life possible. This chat started with a very lengthy analysis of dietary requirements (we have none) and where I got my very-uncool-but-very-cool music related pencils which say “don’t take that tone with me” – a must for all teachers/parents/generally grumpy people. We’ve spared you that chat, and saved you all the good bits. Enjoy!

MS: Let’s talk about your recital!

LBD: Yes, the recital! It’s being presented by the Lieder Society of Victoria, who I’ve been working with for years now. I’ve done so many different projects with them, and they’ve been incredibly supportive. The venue, which is the Camberwell Uniting Church, is the space they’re affiliated with at the moment. We’ve called the recital “Fantaisies françaises” - it’s a celebration of French song, including music by Poulenc, Messiaen, Honegger, Debussy, Satie and Ravel. I knew I wanted to do a recital with Konrad Olszewski while I was here, because we have been working together for so long. Before I moved to London, we played really frequently together, he was my go-to guy! And he’s a close friend as well; someone that I see every time I come back to Australia, but since I left, we haven’t had a chance to collaborate musically. So, part of the reason we’re doing this is because I wanted to find a way to collaborate with him again! We’re going to hang out and play some beautiful music and it’ll be like it was in undergrad. Hang on, I’m going to just pause and have a little more coffee.

MS: Is coffee something you miss when you’re travelling heaps? Like, good Melbourne café coffee? Or is London just as good now?

LBD: Actually, a bunch of London cafes are owned by Australians, which is hilarious, because maybe we do actually make coffee better? There’s something very reliable about a Melbourne brew; everywhere else in the world it’s a bit up in the air, could be great, could be terrible. It’s always nice walking into a London coffee shop and hearing an Australian accent though.

MS: You worked in a coffee shop in London, right? When you first got there?

LBD: I did! I pulled pints in a pub for a bit, then I worked part-time in a cute coffee shop in Wapping for a few years. I wasn’t the world’s best barista or anything, I couldn’t do latte art, but the coffee was super good. That’s how I paid the rent while I was doing my Masters at the Royal Academy of Music - working these kinds of jobs. I think you have to do a few random odd jobs to find your feet when you get to a new place. You land and kind of think, okay, I need to pay rent and get my shit together, and you hustle a bit.

MS: So you moved there to study, and that was all sorted, but everything else still needed to fall into place?

LBD: Exactly – I was going to music college and that was sorted, and I had somewhere to stay, which was awesome, but there are lots of other things that you take for granted a bit when you’re home. As I said, I worked at a pub and that was fun for a few months until I realised I definitely needed to be in bed earlier so I could get up and go to school! The coffee shop gig suited me better while I was studying and not able to sing for work due to student visa requirements. I also had a little stint working at the Museum at the Royal Academy, which was interesting.

MS: Was it full of musical paraphernalia?

LBD: Yes, and all these amazing old pianos! It was my job to wrap them up in their blankets and send them off to sleep at the end of the day. It was pretty cute!

MS: I didn’t know that job existed!

LBD: It was a pretty great one, actually. A lot of international students at the Academy end up working there as a side gig, the school prioritises them getting jobs because of the visa limitations on performance work.

MS: But, while you weren’t performing for money, I imagine it was still pretty crazy, with classes and performance projects at school?

LBD: It was SO busy. There wouldn’t actually have been time to think about my career outside of all that, honestly. But all of these projects helped establish my London network. I think I knew that as soon as my Masters ended I had to be able to hustle and develop my career. I’m a born hustler, I’ve always been like this! I had worked really hard at my freelance career in Australia before moving over to the UK, so I knew what had to be done, and I was prepared for the ups and downs that get thrown at you. It wasn’t easy, and I suppose in some ways it’s still not easy, you just get used to it. I still occasionally do non-musical work and honestly, many musicians do. For the past two summers, I’ve worked at Opera Holland Park in London, working for the administrative/event side of things and it’s really fun. It’s nice to get to know an arts organisation away from the stage.

MS: Do you think it helps with your on-stage work, understanding what goes on behind-the-scenes?

LBD: Absolutely, it’s important to see that side of operations and communicate with the audience and supporters that make these shows possible. It also allows me to observe and enjoy a summer opera festival while still being able to hang onto my concert commitments. For concert singers, which is what I’m focussing my time on at the moment, you can’t really commit to losing your entire season working in an opera, so working in an administrative way allows me to engage in both the opera and concert worlds. I think it’s about where I’m at in my career, where my interests lie and what kinds of music I want to be performing - for me, concert work is the priority at the moment.

MS: I’d love to know about the concert work priority, and why you love performing in this way so much.

LBD: I’m obsessed with it – the opportunity to work on lots of different kinds of music all the time. Working on a bunch of different repertoire is the best; I think variety is the most important thing for me as an artist right now. It allows my voice to adapt and change, and I love the challenge that comes along with that. I’m getting a real kick out of working on things that challenge and extend me and my instrument. I’m also really into lots of different styles - early music, new music, art song, opera, 20th Century, Jazz, Bossa nova... being a concert singer allows me to engage in all of these styles, all the time. The repertoire turnover is extremely high but I love it!

MS: So, when you’re into new work and old work and stuff that extends you and you’ve got an hour to fill with literally anything, where do you even start?

LBD: There are a few ways I go about programming a concert. You can pick a thematic link, or program based on a common thread like a particular language or country. A recent recital I gave was based around the idea of death, and the celebration that the event could be. It included Purcell, Bach, Kurtág, David Lang, Radiohead and Death Cab for Cutie - it was a real mixed bag, but it made total sense. The audience got to experience that one heavy concept in several ways, which deepened the experience, but also made it more relatable. I really like to include different styles within one program - for example, right now I’m working on a program that combines the music of John Dowland and Nick Drake. Another programme I have coming up in the UK is connected by the texts- it’s all about the fairytales and poems of Hans Christian Andersen. For this recital in Camberwell, Konrad and I have built the programme around French song. There will be some rarely performed cycles and some beloved cycles as well. Because there’s no a thematic link, we’ve worked on building an emotional journey for the audience to follow. There’s enough space for the people listening to come up with their own narrative too, which I think is important. We’ll pop the poetry in the program, and then based on those words, everyone can come up with their own conclusions.

MS: Why is chamber music so important? Is the chamber music emotional journey more potent, do you think?

LBD: Ah, I think my answer to this question will change a million times throughout my life. A constant factor is the immediacy of it all – the treatment of poetry and music, the intimacy between the instrumentalists and then with their audience. It hits you straight away. I saw the Doric String Quartet the other day and watching them communicate between each other and then to us - it just totally bowled me over, it was so moving. There’s something stripped back about chamber music: it has the core of what you’ll get in an orchestral setting, but without the excess. It feels to me like the most potent form of music. Maybe that’ll change, but right now, it’s the peak for me. It’s all the best bits of everything distilled, and communication between every ensemble member, the poet, the composer, the musicians and the audience, is so important.

MS: It’s about relationships.

LBD: Yes, there are so many relationships active in chamber music. There’s the relationship of the text to the music, of the composer to the poet, the composer to the musicians - and then that gets delivered to the audience and it has come full circle. I’m going to cry! Also, kind of non-philosophically, it just has an incredible, varied repertoire. There are so many treasures, many of which are not heard nearly enough.

MS: So, speaking of relationships, tell me about working with different associate artists.

LBD: That’s the most important connection. Sometimes you’re in a situation where you’re performing this amazing, intimate music with someone you’ve known for literally five minutes, right? And that’s cool and it brings its own kind of magic and energy. But when you’re working with someone you know and someone who knows you, something really special happens. It’s such a blessing to be able to work with the same people often, and keep coming back again and again to repertoire you know, but also to new repertoire, because you have this innate understanding of that person’s musicality. You know what they’ll do with certain phrasing, articulation. You’re also able to be way more efficient with your rehearsals this way.

MS: So, Konrad?

LBD: Yes! He’s a great mate, we’ve been friends for a long time. I think working on this recital will be like going back to the beginning, when we were undergrads discovering music for the first time together. We were obsessed with just getting through new repertoire - I would spend HOURS at the Melbourne Uni music library hunting for things we could tackle together. I’m pretty sure there’s a photo of us at a party reading through Rachmaninoff from that time – we just wanted to learn and learn. It’ll be exciting to revisit that feeling!

MS: On the topic of mates and relationships, and making music work, I’d like to ask who makes this wacky freelance life in the arts possible for you?

LBD: I think I have to start with my friends, in the UK and Australia, who have turned into my colleagues. I think the musicians with whom you work (that want to keep working with you), are the ones that make things happen and believe in you and make you hustle. They keep you hungry. The musicians in my life, my friends and colleagues from around the world, they’re the ones that make it possible for me. They give me energy and drive, and we fire each other up, we get each other gigs. My family too, they’ve been such a driving force. I really look up to my parents. I bounce my ideas off them all the time, they have a lot of artistic input. I think artistic support is so important, like, an understanding of what I’m trying to do and the path I’m on. I’m really lucky to have that in my family. And my boyfriend is an enormous support. He used to be a cellist and works in orchestral management, so he really just gets what being a musician is all about. I think watching the relationship my parents have has really made me understand how important it is to have support from a partner. They are super encouraging of each other – they support and challenge one another, and egg each other on and they believe in each other. I really feel that at home, from my boyfriend, and I’m so grateful. Does that answer the question? I’m really lucky, I think, to have all this emotional support.

My Rehearsal Room: Alex Raineri

It takes a village to raise a music festival, so what happens when you put one musician in charge of everything? Well, first of all, you need to find a pretty exceptional leader. Alex Raineri is that person: he’s a pianist based in Brisbane but known all over Australia and internationally for his virtuosity and musicality. As a pianist, he says, it’s part of your job to become a curator. Your start early, figuring out “how to fill a solo program, whether that means three pieces or a half an hour set”. So perhaps his newest venture, the Brisbane Music Festival, was meant to be for this pianist. We caught up with Alex to grab five of the most important things he has learnt about mounting a new festival.

You can start with the repertoire first.

The Brisbane Music Festival is an idea I’ve been chipping away at for a few years and it has become a collection of concerts with a multipurpose aim. The most powerful rationale to begin with though, was to program pieces that have been on my bucket list forever! It sounds cheesy but my list of big chamber works that I’ve never had an opportunity to perform is enormous and eclectic, and building concerts around these works seemed like the perfect opportunity to play them in public! It’s similar for the musicians that I’m working with during the festival - Macarthur Clough, Lachlan O’Donnell and Katherine Philp - they have the same feelings about the repertoire. As working freelance musicians, you often get told what’s on the program, so it’s really exciting to have complete freedom over what we get to play. There’s no specific thread throughout the overall festival; each concert is an individual offering of works that I am incredibly passionate about. The whole festival has been about looking for possibilities and creating opportunities to play interesting works together.

It’s not easy, but you can be in charge of organisation and also perform.

I keep doing this to myself! Building these enormous programs and then going through the stages of grief to get them ready. This time though, I think I’ve played roughly half of the repertoire before, which doesn’t make it easy, but does make it easier. It’s mentally and emotionally tiring to try difficult things in a highly pressurised environment like, say, a brand new festival, but I thrive on living on the edge of chaos, I think! I also think there is some truth in the saying that when there is too much to do, you don’t leave any time to get stressed. It’s not the most practical way of working, but that’s part of it too - there is innate risk in curation because you’re placing passion above practicality. That for me is where the joy is.

Having a strategy for pulling audiences is pretty damn important.

I try, when I’m programming new works, to make sure that there’s an appropriately marketable slant to the overall concert. When you’re working on putting together a concert, it’s important to remember how entrenched you are in the new music world, particularly compared to the audience who is buying your tickets. Finding a balance that respects the music for what it is but also allows for it to be heard the new music sphere is what I’m working towards. I’ve tried to pair familiar sounding pieces with those that stretch your ear a little. I think there’s something to be said for complimenting by dissonance! Everyone knows what they already like to listen to, and I’m all about broadening that in a positive way.

People are sometimes still confronted by Boulez on a program because it’s not what their ears were expecting. In saying that, though, if a performance is given with gusto and skill, it’s rare for an audience to have a bad experience. Getting audiences to turn up to the event in the first place though, that’s the hardest thing! That’s why I’m leaning towards juxtaposing the old and the new, the known and the unknown.

“Think big until you’re restricted by practicality”

A part of my driving ethos as a musician is to contribute to the musical community that I exist in; that’s where my drive to work with composers and commission new music comes from. For me personally, there is a deeper, more meaningful factor when you feel as though you’re part of the process, making a positive impact. That’s an essential part of being a musician and being a piano player. There are so many good pianists and I’ve never been driven by being competitive. I don’t need to be the world’s greatest piano player, but I do want to keep creating and pushing my own boundaries.

I’m passionate about all the work I do. It’s a tricky business to be in and the act of making music and staying in top form requires dedication. It comes with emotional sweeps up and down the spectrum, but curating makes you stand back from that and feels more holistic. It requires you to believe in yourself and your vision, which isn’t always easy as a performer.

Finding like-minded supporters and communities is crucial.

I’ve been grateful for all the support I’ve had along the way from funding and philanthropy. I think I’ve been fortunate so far in my curation experience to have never been truly stuck, and as a result, I’ve never had a bad experience. There have been difficult parts of the process, but it has been a journey and every new step in the process has gone towards refining my overall skills. I’m practicing curating right now like I practice the piano - you have to do it to know you can.

In Conversation: Kay Zhang

As well as being an accomplished saxophonist and wearing many curatorial hats, you're an interdisciplinary collaborator, with an interest in visual communications. How did this particular strain of your artistic DNA come to the forefront?

It’s an interesting question; I think it all started when I began organizing my own concerts in Melbourne and then taking that idea overseas. Away from Australia, I found it extremely difficult to explore the idea of how performance can be more than just something static that you watch happen on stage. I think it was also a lot of trial and error, trying things and being able to embrace mistakes, failures and transitions. I think I am also extremely lucky to have built up my network and to be able to work with open and diverse people. To be able to collaborate with different people from many art disciplines allows one to really explore and open another dimension to your practice.

You've performed in theatres and festivals all over the world, in a variety of contexts. How does travel and language impact your practice and your understanding of collaboration?

Travel is the best form of learning and developing your own practice. You are able to unleash things you have wanted to do for a long time and receive a clean slate. This is purity! You are able to gain perspective and reflect on yourself and the way you interact with other people, cultures and, of course, language. Learning how to speak, present and focus on a new language has been a huge process. It’s the essence of how to express yourself, but also how you interact with one another. Of course, what you say is important, but how you say it sometimes holds even more weight.

You're currently working on Des astres (medusas) at the Zürcher Hochschule der Künste; an interactive piece that sits between role-playing, installation and music theatre. Where did the concept come from and why does this mode of storytelling work best in this instance?

Des astres developed from an existing project that my ensemble Kollektiv International Totem (KIT) developed in 2017 for the Amsterdam Fringe Festival. KIT consists of Leo Collin, Nuria Khasenova, Mariana Viera Gruenig, Dalius Singer, Leandro Gianni and myself. We are also working with dramaturgist and director Sabrina Tannen. We work together to create new music theatre productions, in this case, a crime story about a fictional character Percy (known as Perseus from the Greek myth, Medusa) who is on a mission to solve a murder case. However, this production of Des astres it is set sometime in the past in a city called XXXX, and explores place through a fictional lawsuit against Melissa Gordon, the famous hacker who leaked documents regarding the Stolen Data Day. We invite the audience to try out our prototype of the video game Des Astres based on this story. If the audience doesn’t feel like playing the game we also offer a tour of the game's location. We take elements of contemporary music, multimedia (electronics, videos, video games), scenography, displacement of rooms, but also object instruments, for example, a shaver becoming a microphone, and recyclable material as musical instruments, made by Kaspar Konig with technical realization by Eric Larrieux. Medusa is a complicated story; it’s a myth that sees the main characters' destinies determined before they're born, and then follows the consequences of their destinies playing out. We decided to put as many elements of ourselves and our disciplines into the mix to co-create a story. KIT’s motto is always to try and consider what the audience will want to experience and what challenges we can create using sound through theatre. The combination of role-playing, installation and music theatre allows us to input different themes based on our remake version of the Greek mythology: video gaming, jellyfish (check the google translation), data and surveillance and biodiversity; which leaves our work open to multiple impressions.

Let's talk about interactive theatre - how does it work and what does the audience need to bring to the table? Are there risks involved in leaving the piece in the hands of an unknown third party (i.e. a different audience every night)?

In Des Astres, we feature different paths that the audience will be lead through via headphones. We want to highlight the space and take the audience on a sonic experience together with a written text. The audience needs to bring curiosity and an open mind. Our productions are always varied and so the expectations are always different. Yes, of course, there are risks, especially when we are dealing with the conscious mind and how the actions of the audience impact the story, but leaving the work in the hands of a third party is very interesting. It forces us to constantly update and consolidate our show and allows us to enhance the experience based on the feedback and observations of the audience. It also opens up a dialogue, breaking the cycle of equilibrium authorisation and hierarchy between artists and audience.

Why is theatre a "place of utopias", and how, as artists and audience members, can we use this belief to progress the form and also our understanding of the world beyond the stage?

As a musician, we think that the theatre is a utopia place - it is a platform where you can engage and intertwine different elements of storytelling, costume, scenography, music and staging. I think it really depends what concept and situation you want to contribute for the audience. To provide an experience for the audience which can include elements of everyday life or past experiences is important. Moreover, integrating what we deal with in the contexts of today’s society to be more approachable and create a platform to open up conversations is distinctly possible on stage, and should be explored.

My Rehearsal Room: Cameron Jamieson

It seems strange to begin in the middle of events but, as a tutti musician, this is where my contribution begins. The musicians arriving at Santa Sabina College in Sydney is a turning point. This is where the hours of behind-the-scenes organising (and the inevitable agonising) are transmuted from logistical plans to visible, audible existence.

The life of a musician is rarely one that begins at five a.m. but after a concert the night before, my partner, Natalia Harvey, and I have flown directly to rehearsal. When the taxi–airport–taxi dance is complete, we immediately forget any tiredness seeing the warm smiles of one of the friendliest orchestras I've had the privilege of working in, the Australian Romantic & Classical Orchestra. This project is called “Poetical Melodies” and is all about the strings. Around the room there are several people in various stages of jet lag having flown back from different European engagements, some suitcases in one corner and a few cups of tea already on the go. We are greeted by a colleague with typical endearing grace and youthful energy. One violinist is busily getting a string change in early (just in case a well-used piece of gut snaps in a crucial moment) and another player is laughing about some antics from a previous gig (probably involving a great pair of shoes). There's a general buzz of excitement, spearheaded by the joyous return of Rachael Beesley (now exchanging her administrative hat to take her place as our concertmaster and director ready to unify a room rich with experience).

As the works on the program come from the Romantic Period, we tune to four-forty (higher than our last orchestral project at four-thirty). The first challenge has already started as our gut strings rebel, dropping pitch quickly, rising unexpectedly or snapping abruptly (I received a mild lashing on my second day). If music is defined as any kind of sound, then music is constant throughout the day as players try to pluck strings and twiddle pegs surreptitiously when their gut strings misbehave.

When Nicole van Bruggen, principal clarinetist & general manager steps up to welcome the musicians in her administrative role, her excitement is electric. Her passion for the music is obvious as she addresses a room of friends and like-minded champions of this Art.

There is also a quietly acknowledged absence, the father of this team – Richard Gill AO. Thoughts and hope for him hang in everyone's minds. Memories of his charisma, hilarious antics and deep commitment to giving music to every person gives further gravitas to the task at hand. We are proud to bring life to something he cares deeply about just as we care much about him.

Throughout the week, we dissect passages of the music in detail and investigate stylistic performance choices. We refer to treatises of the period, performance traditions past and present as well as our own analysis of the composer's markings. Then, the technical execution to bring these choices into performance is discussed with particular attention to articulation, dynamic and tone control.

One example of a discussion focused on the marking of the word “crescendo”, building from a prior piano to a forte marked later, yet – in the middle of this volume increase – there appears the notation modernly used for a diminuendo – the “>” symbol. A contemporary approach may be confusing given the simultaneously opposing markings. However, in this case, we believe the marking refers to the type of sound. Following this, the technical choices to execute the passage in this way are confirmed. For this phrase, the increasing speed of bow and vibrato as well as narrower vibrato width. These discussions unify the interpretation of the writing and the consequential technical choices made by the musicians to create a consistent sound with scholarly support. All of this under the direction of Rachael's vast knowledge – as it is ultimately her responsibility to make the artistic decisions when there are variations in thought.

Personally, performing with the earthy unique character of gut strings and with the freedom from compulsory modern equipment is a wonderful feeling. Exploring the sounds of the period gives the deepest layer of expression and a sense of authenticity to what the composer was articulating. I can sense how we all believe in the style.

The music is approached with a shared conscience and respect for the composer's writing and the context and traditions of the period. Led from the front, the players share their knowledge in a positive, friendly atmosphere. Surely this is music as it was meant to be made.

Musical Partners: Kieran Welch and Allison Wright

Firstly, how did you meet and what was your first collaborative experience?

Allison Wright: I met Kieran at Bang on a Can's Summer Festival in 2016, where we were both performing fellows. Though we didn't collaborate at that festival, I was keenly aware of Kieran's work once I heard him ask a question in a seminar about funding his concert series. How he described his artistic vision for Dots+Loops sounded extremely similar to my vision for the concert series I had been running for a few years; Kammervolk. Naturally, it didn't take long for us to get talking about what would happen if we were to team up. Our first official collaboration was for Dots+Loops' Synthesis project in March this year. It saw Kieran commission me to compose a new work and I had the opportunity to perform in two other pieces on the program, which was a huge honour and a lot of fun.

Kieran Welch: Despite living in the same country, Allison and I only met for the first time in North Adams, Massachusetts, at the 2016 Bang on a Can Summer Festival. But after two short years of knowing and working with each other, it feels like I've known her my whole life. From artistic goals and dreams to obscure memes, we just seem to be on the same wavelength, and even better, I think our differences compliment each other too. Things that I wish I could do just seem to come naturally to Allison, and I feel so lucky to have come across such a great collaborator. Technically our first collaborative experience was at Bang on a Can, working through the most difficult chamber orchestra piece either of us had ever played—It was touch and go for a while, but we both emerged triumphant at the other end. However, our first properly collaborative project was the Dots+Loops Companions festival last year. I had Allison up to Brisbane to talk about her career and artistic output in a fantastic workshop about career development for young musicians, but she quickly and easily slid into the role of co-producer of the festival. I've always found it so hard to even explain to anyone else how to help me run a Dots+Loops show, but Allison just got it and was getting things done before I even had a chance to ask.

Tell me about the Liminality Festival - what it's all about and where your role comes in.

Allison Wright: For me, the meaning behind the Liminality Festival is twofold. Firstly, it's a celebration of the new artistic partnership between Kieran and I, and secondly, an opportunity to present music and live art that explores the magic feeling of things in transition. The works being presented all have a particular link to this feeling, but achieve it through very different means. I've stepped into the role of co-artistic director at Dots+Loops, which sees me curating one full day of the festival. This is a really exciting opportunity for me, and the artists I've gathered are phenomenal. In addition to my role as curator, I'll also be co-composing an audio/visual work with Elliott Hughes & Tilman Robinson which features the three of us as performers, in conversation with the work of an exceptional team of visual & digital artists including Robert Jarvis, Sean Healy & Ellen Sorensen. So my creative role is diverse, but on Kieran's line-up, I'll be running around as a stagehand and most likely pouring you a glass of wine.

Dots+Loops is all about creating immersive experiences based around post-genre music and collaboration. What does post-genre mean here, and how do you connect with audiences through the performance experience?

Allison Wright: This is a phrase that Kieran introduced me to; it baffled me at first but now I adore it. The ethos behind it links back to our shared passion for inclusivity, whilst also including our passion for innovation. We want to produce gigs that anyone and everyone can attend, regardless of education & socio-economic position. There is a financial barrier for a lot of people to attend traditional programming in traditional concert spaces, which is caused by a multitude of reasons, some unavoidable and some not. Then there's also the socialised associations and stigmas around performances in those spaces, which is a whole other can of worms. The idea of our programming being 'post-genre' means we don't belong to an entrenched aesthetic, which we find better reflects the diversity of our artistic community. It also allows us to combine elements from all over the place in order to best suit the creative expression, without being tied to the expectations of a genre. This means we get to make art for art's sake.

Kieran Welch: Post-genre means the freedom to create music and art without borders. With Dots+Loops, that means non-hierarchically taking aspects from different musical and artistic worlds, and combining them in a way to create something exciting and new. Everyone who comes will find something familiar and welcoming, but also something exciting and different. It's a place where audience, performers and creators are all valued as equally important parts of the artistic process—and can all have a great time too!

What interests you about cross-city collaborations, and what is the value of working across both Queensland and Melbourne, from an artistic perspective?

Kieran Welch: More and more I've started to find that it's weirdly easier in Australia to find opportunities and funding to perform and create art overseas than it is to do so interstate. I realised last year that the major Australian cities all have a very distinct sound as far as art music goes, and while having a unique sound and tradition is something each city can be proud of, it also seems to me that the scenes are weirdly isolated from each other, and that at times the unique approach and sound of each city I mentioned is simply due to a lack of opportunity to collaborate with Australians from other states. I strongly believe that Brisbane has one of the most exciting and unique post-genre scenes in the world, but all the amazing work we're creating often ends up staying close to home. Likewise, every time I go to Melbourne, I'm blown away by the creativity and vision of the arts practitioners there, in particular, the uniquely multidisciplinary approach they have in so many things they do. There are few people I've come across who tackle this multidisciplinary approach in a more exciting way than Allison, and I can't wait to share the stuff she's curated with our amazing artistic communities here in Brisbane. And likewise, I'm so excited for the opportunity to bring a touch of Brisbane's own unique artistic vibes down to Victoria.

As a co-artistic director, what do you hope to achieve through your programming at the Liminality Festival?

Allison Wright: My style of curatorship has always been a focus on bringing exceptionally talented people together, putting them in a room with each other and seeing what happens. It never fails to surprise me, as collaborations in this way always produce something completely new. Doing things this way also fosters a sense of community by linking other artists to each other and to our audiences.

Kieran Welch: This is the thirteenth Dots+Loops show I've curated, and throughout this process I've realised that my programming can be about much more than sharing bangin' tunes with lovely people. I've realised that in my own small way, it can also assist in creating the kind of world I want to live in — that is, I can reflect my social values through what I do, and I'm actually in quite an amazing position to do so. I'd never program a concert without music by a female or non-binary composer, and always aim for at least equity in this respect. I can support and champion amazing local and young talent. I can encourage inclusivity, and supportive, active artistic communities through the way I enact the whole concert. But at the same time, the reason I started Dots+Loops was to create a chilled out, fun and social way to enjoy bangin' adventurous tunes—something that I'd actively want to go to on a Friday night with my mates—and the series will always be equally about that. And most luckily, in Allison I've found a collaborator who gets all of the above and then some.

How has your past experience as a curator and performer influenced your approach to this project? What learnings will you be bringing to the festival?

Allison Wright: I'll be bringing my experience as artistic director of Kammervolk Collective into this project in the form of multi-disciplinary performance, which is always something I've been passionate about. Liminality features the same team of mixed media artists we worked with on Kammervolk's 'The North Voice' in September last year, who were added into that project quite late into the production period (literally the day of the performance!!). We had such a fantastic time working together that we vowed to find an appropriate time to stage such a collaboration again and with much more production and development this time around. Calling themselves 'comp.artmental', the group is led by Robert Jarvis (video artist) and features Sean Healy (video synthesis) and Ellen Sorensen (papercraft, puppetry), and their work will be featured in the collaboration with myself, Elliott Hughes & Tilman Robinson.

In Conversation: Joby Talbot

Path of Miracles, originally written for Tenebrae, is a work that seeks to spread peace and light throughout an increasingly challenging world. Can you tell me about the process of writing this emotional work - where the concept came from and what the message is that you were hoping to share with the listener?

The original idea for the piece came from Nigel Short, the founder and conductor of Tenebrae, and singer Gabriel Crouch who I had met when I wrote the madrigal The Wishing Tree for The Kings' Singers. Gabriel called me and asked whether I'd like to be one of four composers to work with Tenebrae on a new project about the Camino de Santiago. The original idea was to have the choir walk the pilgrimage, performing the new pieces singly, then sing all four together for the first time in Santiago itself. I imagined this incredible choir singing my music in such an extraordinary context and immediately asked (rather presumptuously) whether I could, in fact, write all four movements! I then travelled to northern Spain and visited the four locations after which the movements of the piece are named. The very different feelings I experienced in each place gave me the idea of for the overall structure of the work. Roncesvalles would be a energetic prelude - a coming together of people filled with excitement at the journey ahead of them; Burgos a kind of a Dies Irae; Leon a Lux Aeterna; and Santiago a joyous finale with a contemplative postlude inspired by the cliffs of Finisterra - the 'end of the world' on the Galician coast.

The text is made up of numerous multilingual historical and sacred documents, combined with the poems of English writer Robert Dickinson. How did you choose and combine the writings that you used and what was it about Dickinson's style that worked so well alongside the other texts?

I'd come across Robert Dickinson when I read his poem Proofs which is about medieval French saints. It was published in The Independent newspaper and I was so struck by the tone of the poem - which, in a few short verses, offers a devastating critique of organised religion, while celebrating the beauty of simple faith - that I cut it out and kept it in my wallet for years. On some level, I must have known that the Tenebrae commission was going to come along one day! With the help of The Poetry Foundation, I contacted Robert and asked him if he'd be interested in working with me on the project. Meanwhile, Gabriel Crouch put me in touch with the historian, Professor Jack Sage, who is an expert on medieval Spain based at Kings' College, London. Jack gave me a pile of ancient texts associated with the Camino, and Robert set to work setting them in the context of his own verse with my four-movement structure in mind. The idea of incorporating a wide variety of languages refers to the extraordinary mixing of cultures that the medieval Camino enabled, something that is still a striking feature of the modern-day pilgrimage.

Across four movements, Path of Miracles follows the pilgrim trail, Camino de Santiago; offering to the audience an understanding of the difficulties and privileges of travel. Has traveling been an important part of your life and work? How does travel complement or inspire your creative practice?

Travel has always been important to me and an inspiring part of my creative life. I think that deep down in all of us is the urge to keep moving, and journeying through space enhances and celebrates life's journey through time. Path of Miracles is a piece about journeying in the widest sense of the term and I intend the experience of listening to & performing the work to feel like a journey in itself.

What are the challenges and highlights of writing music for choir?

Like most musicians growing up in Britain, I sung in a lot of choirs as a kid but always thought of myself as an orchestral player and composer first and foremost. Path of Miracles was the first substantial choral piece I'd written and I guess I brought a kind of useful naivety to the process of writing for Tenebrae. Nigel Short had given me the range of each individual singer before I started and I think I basically wrote for them as though they were instruments. I really had no idea whether it was going to work but I kept in mind that a similar approach had served me well with The Wishing Tree and fortunately it all turned out well.

You've said that the ultimate message of the work, but also all music, is to share hope for humanity. For you as a composer, why is music such a powerful medium for sharing love and empathy?

I think that, at heart, all my music (or at least all my good music) is about that. Music is a communicative art form that transcends language and can express the widest possible palette of emotions. When people come together to perform and listen to a piece like Path of Miracles it's a very lovely thing - a beautiful act of faith that I hope will have a lasting and positive impact on everyone involved. It sounds trite to say that music brings people together, but it does, and in an increasingly unstable and fragmented world this is important.

For young musicians hoping to get into composition, do you have any advice for choosing and setting texts?

Choose texts that speak to you and respect them in the setting. You can do all kinds of things with the words when setting them to music but they should never lose their integrity. I also feel that it's important to pick words that seem to want to be put to music, otherwise what's the point? So much poetry, for instance, is most beautiful when spoken, so I would avoid setting that. Likewise, I would avoid setting anything too prosaic. Most importantly make sure you can sing your vocal lines. I'm not a great singer so I know that if I can manage the pitches and rhythms a proper singer will have a great time performing it.

In Conversation: Zubin Kanga

Backstage Music will present Sound-Light Geometries this Saturday - an exploration of music, light, architecture and movement. Tell me about these elements; what interests you about them and why music works as a way of interpreting their relationship?

Musical performance is not just a sonic art – it is (and always has been) a multimedia art, drawing together the sonic and the visual. A lot of composers have played with these different elements in different ways by drawing together different art forms – Xenakis created analogous music and architecture using the same mathematical processes, and Kagel integrated surreal theatrical elements into his music.

In recent years, there's been a renewed interest in exploring these different connections between the arts, but now with the frame of the internet and modern digital culture. This new approach (which in Europe is called various names including The New Discipline and Music in the Extended Field) has gone from being a fringe genre to now becoming one of the dominant features of the contemporary music scene in Europe. In London (where I live) most of the exciting new work by younger composers and performers is interdisciplinary and exploring these connections of music, film, video art, theatre, comedy and internet culture. A lot of my recent solo work has been in this field, and so it's great to put on a performance of this type with local Sydney musicians who have their own very unique take on combining sound and visuals.

You are a performer as a well as a composer in this concert; how does each practice inform the other for you? Is your compositional work influenced by the ways you perform and is your compositional style informed by your intimate knowledge of performance practice and collaboration?

Yes, these practices are symbiotic. I started out wanting to be a composer, but my confidence in my work waned just as my performing career was taking off. So it's really great to come back to it with the knowledge I've gained by being a performer and commissioner. As a performer working with composers, I play many roles: a coach, a sounding board, a project manager, an expert consultant, a puppet and a lab rat – I've learned a lot from every composer I've worked with and try to share my knowledge of the instrument with them too.

I actually think all composers should be able to perform and all performers should be able to compose – they're complementary skills and specialisation into one or the other is quite a modern invention.

As a pianist - a role that is often associated with solo repertoire and practice - what do you enjoy about working in collaboration with so many different artists, including those working outside music in sound design, electronics, etc.?

Being a pianist is a very lonely profession – only composers are bigger loners than us! A lot of it is hard work behind closed doors, so I always enjoy the opportunity to collaborate with other musicians or artists of any type. And I fundamentally believe that true creativity is always a social act and being part of a living, growing creative ecosystem is the primary purpose of being an artist.

Your work looks at expanding the piano by incorporating interactive multimedia. What are the synergies between the keyboard and multimedia platforms, and how did you come across this combination initially?

I don't think there are obvious synergies. A piano is a machine of sorts, and keyboards are very useful for controlling other media. But I really started integrating these elements because I found there was so much more that could happen in a concert, and that the integration of music with the other arts is the way forward for contemporary music. And I also just have a great passion for all these other art forms, and it's been very enjoyable bringing together my musical practice with my love of film, comedy, theatre and internet culture (Alexander Schubert's WIKI-PIANO.NET*, which is co-composed by the internet community and changes with every performance is one of my favourite recent commissions). There's also something really interesting about having all these different digital components interacting with a live musician on stage – it's just far more compelling than if you had all these same technologies but without a live performer.

*Wiki Piano: A piece for piano and the internet community. It is composed by everyone. At every time. The composition is notated as an editable Wiki internet page and is subject to constant change and fluctuation.

How does your current research practice impact your performance and composition? Has commencing this type of work changed your approach in any way?

Research for me has always been connected to my practice, and an avenue to do some deeper thinking about the big questions that emerge from our work as musicians. My current post-doc at Royal Holloway, University of London is looking at soloists (mainly in the UK, but with a number of international participants) who are using new technologies to extend their bodies and instruments in different ways. I really want to look at these questions of music, technology and the growth of interdisciplinary work from the perspective of performers, rather than composers. This has an obvious impact on my own work, as it facilitates a lot of auto-ethnographic reflection on my practice, and also allows me to learn from amazing colleagues around the world by observing and discussing their practices in a lot of detail. And as with composing and performing, I think all musicians should be researchers to some extent – thinking deeply about the bigger questions of our art and practice should be central to being an artist.

In Conversation: Alexander Yau

Alexander, an enormous congratulations on your recent win at the Sydney Eisteddfod! Can you tell us a little about how you got competition-ready: how you prepared for your performances and what the differences are when getting ready for an eisteddfod compared to a regular recital?

I have done this John Allison Piano scholarship multiple times already and was admitted into the finals a total of three times, so I felt comfortable with this competition process and environment. Preparing for an eisteddfod competition is very different to a regular recital, because in a recital I play for 45 mins or more with a long program, whereas in an eisteddfod, I only prepare one or two works. Therefore choosing the ‘right’ works for an eisteddfod is a crucial element to ensure success - the ‘right’ works have to be something you feel you can play better than anyone else.

You performed Liszt's Sonata in B minor - what does the work mean to you and how did you first come across it?

Liszt’s Sonata in B minor means a lot to me. It was one of the first of Liszt’s works that I ever listened to and I was immediately awestruck by its grandeur. I have been playing it since I was 10 and felt ready to perform it on stage at the age of 21. I visited Weimar earlier this year, where Liszt wrote this work and many others; the place not only represented the spirit of Liszt and 19th-century literature but also was the place that Liszt really began his career as a composer whilst being a virtuoso pianist. Having been to this place made me feel more connected to Liszt and his Sonata, so I am very fortunate to have been able to share my feelings and ideas about it in the finals.

Piano lessons began for you at age 6; what are some of your early memories with the instrument, and do you remember the moment you decided that performing was the thing you wanted to do professionally?

My early memories with the piano were simply being too ambitious and not practising much but learning and playing pieces that I hear. That moment only came where I realised that playing the piano was something I had to do each day, equivalent to having dinner. The true moment that I wanted to do piano seriously and professionally was only after my success at the 2015 Lev Vlassenko Piano Competition.

This prize will allow you to pursue further study internationally on the piano - how important is it for emerging artists to continue their studies overseas and where do you hope this scholarship will take you?

I think it is only important for emerging artists to continue their studies overseas if they have a clear goal of what they want to achieve and how they would go about achieving it. It may be to seek after a particular teacher to improve certain aspects of piano playing or composers’ works or musical style, or to gain a wider reputation, or to seek experience and absorbing the traditions of a certain city in Europe to help gain insightful interpretations.

I will be using this scholarship as part of my funds for studying at the Juilliard School in New York with Matti Raekallio, which commences in September this year. I plan to explore and perform works, which I have not played much of before, which are works by Russian composers in 20th century and music after 1950 as well as exotic works from various national schools.

If you could give a piece of advice to pianists taking part in the Sydney Eisteddfod next year, what would you like them to know?

In general, eisteddfods are great platforms for young pianists to build up performance experience and confidence. The competition results are not the most important and they must not let that affect the mentality of the young pianists. Treat the eisteddfod as a performance opportunity and always remind ourselves that we will never stop learning, no what matter at what stage we are in.

Finally, why do you play the piano? What do you hope audiences get out of your performances?

I was not born to play the piano, I merely started it as a hobby and gradually became attached to it. It is, in a way an extension of myself; a way to express ideas and emotions.When I perform, I hope to create a sensation or an experience for the audience, to make them feel something. The whole performance is meant to be an emotional journey, where the audiences’ state of mind or mood is changed and inspired after the end of a piece or a recital.

In Conversation: Elliott Hughes

First things first, what is an augmented trumpet and where did the idea come from?

The Augmented Trumpet is a just regular trumpet with a sensor attached to the valves, used to perform electroacoustic music. The sensor follows the movement of each valve up to down, and that data is sent to the computer. Then, with the software I'm using, I program the electronic effects to be controlled and synchronised with the normal movements of playing the trumpet.

The idea was inspired by Japanese/American violinist Mari Kimura's Augmented Violin project. She developed a glove that the performer wears on their bowing hand, which can pick up whether the performer is playing a downbow or upbow, which string is being bowed, and how long each bow stroke is. When I first saw it I was captivated by how it transformed the way you could perform electroacoustic music, and immediately thought about how I could apply that idea to the trumpet.

You've commissioned a number of local composers to write for this exciting new brass instrument - what were some of the challenges when commissioning for a completely new sound, and how did you work around them?

The first challenge is that very few people in Australia have seen any 'Augmented' instruments, so just explaining & demonstrating what it does and why that's useful was an important place to start. It really surprises people how precise the electronics can follow along with the live sound, and also just how many different sound options you have! I think every composer came back to me asking 'can it do this?' and 99 times out of 100 my answer was yes!

Also, to help the composers I wrote a little guidebook (available here for free!) that explains how the instrument works and gives some examples of what I've attempted so far.

I think one of the other challenges was that it really adds another layer of thinking for the composer when they're writing. You're already thinking about normal compositional things like structure, pacing, colour, as well as what sounds you to create through the electronics; but then on top of that, you've got to think about what interaction is going on between the sensor and electronics. It's a lot to get your head around!

How collaborative have each of the commissions been? What is the process for you in creating a new work with a composer, from beginning to end?

So, after I invited each composer to be part of the project, I sent around some recordings of what I've already done to try to show the breadth of sounds you could create. We each met one-on-one as well so they could ask questions and talk through their ideas. After that, each composer just started writing their piece and sent me a score when it was ready! Once I'd read through the works, I started programming the electronics for each piece and then we met up again, this time to get really into the shape of the piece together, because the electronics I'm building need to fit closely with how the composer imagined it would sound. We also went through the normal stuff when you're playing a new piece - how's this tempo, how's this phrasing, dynamics, articulation etc. This was actually quite a new experience for me because usually I'm on the other side as the composer presenting a new work, rather than performer learning the new work!

You have already performed improvisations on the augmented trumpet but never notated work. Moving forward, do you see possibilities for other instrumentalists to perform your commissions and play on the new instrument?

Yes absolutely! I'd love to see this idea spread and these works be performed by other performers. This year I've actually been developing a 3D printed model of my sensor that will fit onto any trumpet (the original sensor is made out of PVC pipe, velcro and gaffer tape...). So ideally, anyone with a trumpet, the sensor, a microphone and a computer could perform these works. That's a little way off yet, but we'll get there!

Each piece will be accompanied by live visuals: can you tell us about these projections and why offering a multisensory audience experience is important to you?

I've always loved live visuals at electroacoustic music concerts - I see it as a challenge to find the relationship between one and the other. Electroacoustic music performance can also be quite difficult to watch as an audience member if the performer is really focussing on a computer while they're playing - it can almost become a barrier, and you can just can't see what's happening on the screen so maybe you feel left out a little? Whatever the reason, I feel having live visuals can make the performance more engaging for the audience.

The other reason I'm creating the visuals for this gig was more of a personal challenge. The software I used to do the Augmented Trumpet sound, Max MSP, has a whole other side of it that creates visuals. I've used this software for six or seven years now and never really looked into it, and so I just thought, why not?!

Finally, why is it crucial that we keep pushing the boundaries of what our traditional orchestral instruments can do in a performance setting?

I think it's always been happening; instruments have always been changing and developing alongside the music of the day. I mean, trumpets and horns wouldn't have any valves if someone hadn't thought it'd be pretty cool if those instruments could play a chromatic scale! Perhaps now this is just trying to incorporate today's technology with our centuries-old instruments in meaningful ways. I really believe that using electronics with instruments broadens our range of expression, and just lets us create so many more colours! And also, it's probably my composer brain, but I'm constantly looking for another cool new sound. And then another, and another, and another...

My Rehearsal Room: Lachlan R. Dale

I can trace my interest in record labels back to my late teens, when I begun to work with a friend on his independent label. It didn’t quite align with my tastes (it focused on extreme metal; my new label focuses on world music - so a slight difference) but I got invaluable experience in press engagement, digital marketing and event production.

Eventually I decided to start a label of my own, Art As Catharsis, which celebrates Australian music that is progressive, psychedelic or thoughtful. I was particularly interested in looking at local music with an experimental edge. We have released a wide range of styles in an attempt to represent the ingenuity of local artists. After seven years of running Art As Catharsis (and gathering a small but loyal following), my personal musical tastes began to shift away from heavy, progressive sounds and more towards the classical, instrumental music of the Afghanistan, Turkey and Iran. Worlds Within Worlds, my new label, is a response to that interest - one that continues to expand the more I hear and explore.

The catalyst might have been a trip I took through the Pamir Mountains in Central Asia last year. With so many hours spent rumbling along in a Jeep with a few friends, I was exposed to a diverse range of music. We also attended a three day music festival in Khorog, on the border of Tajikistan and Afghanistan.

Those conversations really inspired me, and I suppose they helped light a flame. The classical music of Persia grabbed me straight away. It seemed to share elements that already interested me in other forms and genres - playing with a sense of time; odd metres; and an instrumental musical tradition that takes listeners on an emotional journey. Persian classical music has some similarities with Western classical music, but it has more freedom because of the focus on improvisation. There are interesting juxtapositions which are intriguing as a listener - the melodies are ornate but free; there are interesting uses of microtones and complex composition, and yet the music can be dramatic and tragic. I always prefer to listen to albums from beginning to end in one sitting, which is how I would recommend anyone listen to music on my label. The individual tracks are placed together to create a singular work, more often than not, so it is nice to sit down with an album and experience it as a whole.

Digital media and streaming has shifted this focus of the industry - which is fantastic in some ways and challenging in others. The internet has really shaken up the power of distribution; promotion and marketing has changed as a result, but so has the actual process of recording and production. When I started Art As Catharsis, we used Bandcamp, because of the platform’s focus on paying artists reasonably, while offering flexibility and discoverability. Finding out about Bandcamp shifted my approach as both a consumer and a promoter - now my listening habits include a significant amount of streaming services. When I was growing up I spent so much of my income on CDs and records, but things are changing!

There are challenges to running a record label that produces music that is not traditionally considered “commercial”, but then again, my aims are not commercial. I’m hoping to build communities and break barriers with fantastic, sometimes challenging music. I’ve seen how the internet can help unite diverse people from around the world, and allow listeners from all walks of life to discover and explore music that they wouldn’t have otherwise been able to access. The most important thing about my job is to maintain relationships - with artists and musicians, with media contacts, and with our supporters. It’s crucial, regardless of where you sit in the industry, to learn about and try to understand the people around you. I wish I’d known that sooner!

I’ve found it important to recognise the power of the internet, and using that to your advantage rather than railing against it. You can target audiences and find people that are interested in your specific niche; the opportunities are boundless. I’ve been blown away by the number people I’ve met - both in real life and over the internet - who appreciate the label. I’m touched every time someone reaches out to tell me about their personal experience with my records. It’s pretty cool to have made something that encourages people to sit down and listen to challenging music. It’s even better when they love it!

In Conversation: Wang Zheng-Ting

Congratulations on your recent performances of Kites of Tianjin! In this work, you perform on the sheng, a traditional Chinese instrument. What was your first experience of the sheng, and when did you start playing the instrument?

I grew up in a big family as an amateur music lover. My younger brother played multiple instruments, so when I was little I heard him playing violin, Chinese violin, harmonica and Chinese flute. Sometimes, I would try out his instruments when he was not home! Finally, when I was in primary school, I started to play Chinese flute, harmonica and violin properly. When I was in middle school, I was fascinated by the sound of the Chinese mouth organ, so I started practicing very hard and seriously. I can remember spending most of my free time practicing my instrument, because my aim was to be a professional musician, and during that period, becoming one was a very hard and competitive path.

You traveled to Tianjin with Adam Simmons for this project - can you tell me a bit about that experience and how the creative development process was aided by the trip?

I think the trip was very important for the project's development. When we were in Tianjin, we tried to meet as many musicians and artists as possible; visiting the Conservatory, the Song Dancing Company, and attending the Tianjin Conservatory of Music final examinations. We also tried to eat the local street food and to talk to the locals as if we were local Tianjin people. I believe all these activities assisted Adam in the composition of the piece.

The work is based on the "Wei Kites", which were made by Wei Yuantai for the Emporer. What is the story of these kites?

When we visit Wei Guoqiu's workshop, we found there were so many different kinds of kites; in the shapes of birds, fish, dragonflies, butterflies. I am not sure what kind of kites were made for the Emperor by Wei Yuantai, though we were told by Wei Guoqiu (the fourth generation maker of Wei Kites), that there are outdoor and indoor kites. Usually, the kites are for entertaining and for children to play with; they can be flown incredibly high. Ten years ago I brought Wei Guoqiu to Melbourne to celebrate the Chinese New Year and during the event, he flew a kite so high that the pilot in a helicopter was suspicious about what it was, and he got told to bring it down. When we saw each other in April this year, we spoke about the incident, and he told me that the kite he had flown that day was a very good one, and after he pulled it down a young man had asked him to sell it.

As well as performing on the sheng, you have a Ph.D. in ethnomusicology. How have your academic studies assisted your performance practice?

I think my studies in ethnomusicology help me to think more about the things behind music making. They also help me to communicate well with my fellow musicians and ethnomusicologists through international conferences and publications.

Do you have any advice for students interested in finding out more about ethnomusicology?

If you really love music and are interested in ethnomusicology please do so, though remember that there is not a huge demand for ethnomusicologists in the job market. I do it because I love the music and I am interested in the subject, and I think that's a good enough reason to focus on research.

Finally, where can we hear you perform for the rest of 2018?

In September, I will assist the Melbourne Conservatorium of Music Symphony Orchestra on their tour to Singapore and Shanghai, and in December, will then perform again with Adam Simmons in Tianjin and Shanghai.

In Conversation: Stuart Skelton

A huge congratulations on the new record, Stuart! This disc in part traces Wagner's development as a composer across the span of his career, beginning with Rienzi and ending with the Wesendonck Lieder. Can you tell me about your relationship with the composer; when you first heard and performed his work, and how it has influenced you as a performer?

Ah, I was first exposed to Wagner at Graduate School in the US, when I was completing my vocal studies there. It’s important to remember that I had no idea at the time that Wagner would figure so heavily in my future. My first Wagner performances were in 1999 in Strasbourg as Erik in The Flying Dutchman, closely followed by Lohengrin in 2000. I don’t honestly know if it has influenced me as a performer because I tend to approach all my performances the same way: to let the composer’s reaction to the libretto and the SCORE guide me and move me in a way that allows me to then move an audience in the same way.

You have performed Wagner's operatic roles in houses across the world, some of which feature on this record. Did your preparation have to shift at all to get ready to sing the featured arias for recording in comparison with how you would approach performing them on stage?

Not really, no. Certainly, with a recording there are many more opportunities to go back and make very fine adjustments to one’s performance, which you can’t do live! But otherwise, I think the total investment that this repertoire requires, both vocally and histrionically, is the same across any platform.

Speaking of the recording experience, what was the process of working on the repertoire with Asher Fisch and the West Australian Symphony Orchestra? Do you have much time for rehearsal before the microphones get turned on, or does everyone have to go into the recording space completely prepared?

The process was truly revelatory; Asher and I have been friends and colleagues since 2003 and he is a consummate and passionate Wagnerian, so we have a certain innate understanding of each other and what each of us love about this music. WASO are a truly wonderful orchestra and their relationship with Asher is a joy to watch - the way they respond to each other is really quite remarkable.

In terms of preparation, obviously the repertoire for this recording has been under my and Asher’s skin for some time, separately, and you go into a recording of this nature like you would a concert performance. It’s all on the line every time. There was opportunity to rehearse each piece before we started recording, but I think the mics were ALWAYS on, and it’s the axiom, I think: “Always assume a mic is live.”

The Three Poems of Fiona Macleod by Charles Griffes and Samuel Barber's Sure On This Shining Night also feature on Shining Knight - can you tell me about how you came to choose these works and why they fit so well musically alongside the Wagner?

Certainly, the Griffes works have held a place in my heart since grad school and when the opportunity came to make additions to the Wagnerian repertoire that we’d already decided, it was a great way to bring these relatively unknown works into some spotlight. Griffes was born the year after Wagner died, but Wagner’s musical legacy was broad and deep and it certainly plays out in Griffes settings of these songs, which are at the same time quite perfumed in a very French, impressionistic way and yet still thrumming with post-Wagnerian German romanticism, like Korngold and Zemlinsky.

The Barber piece was actually suggested by Toby Chadd, at that time the head of ABC Classics, and although the piece is unapologetically American in its harmonic language, it does provide, I think, a genuinely lovely coda to the significant Sturm und Drang of the rest of the album. It also ended up, serendipitously, the inspiration for the title of the CD.

In August, you will be performing Tristan and Isolde in its entirety with WASO. From a musical perspective, how do you get prepared for a role as big as this one? Does your process differ depending on the score, or do you stick with one method regardless of the work?

My “method” never changes, although in this case, having done Tristan a number of times before in the last 2 years, the method was a bit shorter. You prepare for Tristan like you would prepare for anything: by getting it under your skin in a way that makes you wake up with the music in your head at annoyingly inappropriate times.

The Wesendonck Lieder will feature in your upcoming solo recital at the Melbourne Recital Centre, alongside other little-known or rarely performed art song and lieder gems. What interests you about art song and giving performances of works that aren't frequently heard on the concert stage?

If I’m honest, some of the joy of a recital lies in the fact that so often people are SURPRISED that I sing recitals at all, the assumption apparently being that with the repertoire I sing, scaling my voice back to more intimate repertoire and venues being a stretch too far! But largely, it’s the opportunity to sing repertoire that genuinely moves me, not only Wesendonck, which is an obvious touchstone, but also utter perfection of the Korngold cycle, Lieder eines Abschieds (Songs of Farewell), which is rarely performed and, I think, almost never by a male singer. Certainly the Grainger songs are totally fabulous and a little zany, not unlike Percy himself, and the 4 poems of Victor Hugo in this revised setting by Liszt are truly incredible songs, with both soaring melody, delicacy and very cheeky humour. And the Poema en forma de Canciones are full-blooded, Iberian joy and include a stunning, bravura solo for my brilliant collaborator, Richard Peirson.

For developing singers working on their own art song repertoire, how do you approach curating a program of works? Do you take one piece as a springboard for building the program, or does a central theme help you decide what to perform?

It will be different for each singer. In this case, it was the Korngold Lieder that I wanted to give a platform to and then build around them, from similar periods from different parts of the musical globe. It is sort of an essay on the transition from romanticism to modernism, in a way. Ha, I should have titled the recital “The Modern Romantic”. Opportunity missed there, I’d say.

Finally, do you have a piece of advice for young musicians approaching lieder or art song for the first time?

Yes, indeed I do. The text is EVERYTHING, right up to the point when it’s not. The text came FIRST, and the music is the composer’s reaction to that text. Trust your composer. After all, some of the great poets trusted them with their words! We should show them the same courtesy.

In Conversation: Elizabeth Sellars

The 2018 Chamber Music Festival at the Sir Zelman Cowen School of Music celebrates local artists through a series of masterclasses and performances. Can you talk us through some of the highlights for you personally?

I am incredibly excited to be playing with two amazing musicians - cellist Svetlana Bogoslavjevic and pianist Ian Munro in a performance of a work called Space Jump by Turkish composer Fazil Say. Space Jump illustrates skydiver Felix Baumgartner’s spectacular jump from the stratosphere to earth and is a wonderful voyage for the listener. Other highlights include Resphigi's Violin and Piano Sonata, the Galina Ustvolskaya trio, a Beethoven Quartet and Roger Heagney Songs just to name a few!

Master classes are an important part of the development and learning process for students of all levels and the upcoming festival features a broad range of these opportunities. When you give master classes, as you will do for string students, what do you like to discuss and work on considering the short amount of time participants are given?

Masterclasses can be great opportunities to explore musical characterisation and interpretive ideas. Sometimes I comment on ways of approaching postural and technical issues if I think it may be of use. I have a special interest in using the body well and efficiently!

For students interested in participating in these classes as performers, how do you recommend they best prepare?

Treat the masterclasses as a performance, tell your story, and always remain open to new information even if it is different to what you have already been told. One of the joys of learning a musical instrument is the understanding that there are multiple approaches to sound, phrasing and interpretation.

On the other side of the master class equation, what is the value of attending as an auditor? Can you get just as much out of the process as an audience member as you can as a performer?

Watching masterclasses is a time-honoured way of learning for all musicians and audiences! I love watching other teachers as each musician is unique and brings their own language, perspective and imagination to musical problem-solving.

Learning about chamber music in such an immersive environment is a really exciting opportunity for your students. What are the most important things that you need to know about creating collaborative musical relationships?

This one is a big topic but some of the key elements in collaborative musical partnerships include:

* commitment to a shared musical vision
* trusting your fellow collaborators
* communicate effectively - give and accept feedback graciously
* listen openly and with respect. Understand that we all have different strengths that we bring to a performance.
* responsiveness to new ideas
* sublimating your own ego to the great musical goal

In Conversation: Lisa-Maree Amos

Tell me about your earliest experiences with the flute – do you remember why you chose it and what your first lessons were like?

I started playing the fife in school and then graduated quickly to the flute after being offered free lessons and an instrument.

What sort of music interested you while you were growing up? Were you always invested in classical music or were other genres more in favour during your studies?

I always listened to many different types and styles of music but had a huge classical and flute record and tape collection!

When did you decide that you wanted to pursue flute performance as a career?

I just always wanted to play for my living, and that was before I even really knew what that would be like. After joining Queensland and Australian youth orchestras, it became clear that orchestral playing was my passion.

Can you tell me about what that decision meant for your personal practice and what your journey was like moving from student to professional?

I love to practice and when I first started out I would do enormous hours of practice, often really late at night even after a concert. I’m not sure how efficient I was, but I just really enjoyed the process.

You and Peter Sheridan regularly perform on a variety of flutes that aren’t frequently heard on the concert stage! What interests you about the sounds you can create on these instruments?

Peter is a real master on the Low Flutes, and they make beautiful rich deep sounds, unlike anything else.

Are there any practical differences when practicing and performing on different types (and sizes!) of flutes?

You need more air, and they can be heavy and the hand stretch is wider with the largest ones.

Your upcoming performance, Dark Star, at the Melbourne Recital Centre, will see you and Peter showcase a range of works either recorded or commissioned over the recent decades. Commissioning and supporting composers are clearly priorities for you both – can you tell me a little about why you think it is important to support the development of new art?

When promoting these instruments Peter discovered that the limited repertoire needed to be expanded so he has inspired many composers to write for him so that the potential of these sounds can be discovered. The relationship between artist and composer can sometimes be almost a joint journey in creativity when using such specialised instruments. Peter not only commissions many works, but is dedicated to performing these pieces multiple times (not just a 1st premiere performance), and always helps to secure publishing and recording with his connections at Wirrapang, Theodore Presser and Move Records. Peter is also a regular feature artist at international flute festivals and takes these new works around the world.

Do you have any advice for young flautists looking to pursue a career in the orchestral world, either locally or overseas?

Try to take in as much knowledge as you can, explore other genres and check out classes with other instruments as well as your own. So much of our work is based on connections, so wherever possible try not to isolate but collaborate because you never know when you might come across people again - music is a small world.

Finally, can you share an audition tip with our audience of developing musicians?

Practice being able to play well in imperfect situations. Learn how to go with the flow under stress. Be adaptable.

In Conversation: Carolyn Morris

In their upcoming concert at the Melbourne Recital Centre, Lisa-Maree Amos and Peter Sheridan will be performing your piece, Forest Over Sea, a work in four parts inspired, I imagine, by the natural world. Can you tell me about the work’s origin and your interest in nature and landscape?

The natural world - the bush, ocean, trees, birdlife, fresh air - is so uplifting to the human spirit and is strongly related to my purpose for composing. I’m motivated to create sounds and music that reflect the magic of nature and remind us that we’re part of something bigger. I was fortunate to have spent many summers at Anglesea on the Great Ocean Road in Victoria. That whole area is really a “Forest Over Sea”.

When Peter Sheridan asked me to compose a piece for bass flute, alto flute & piano it seemed a natural source of inspiration for those instruments.

The trio in this piece – made up of alto flute, bass flute and piano – is quite unusual! Can you recall what your compositional process looked like for this work and if there were any challenges or highlights in writing for this combination?

I’d never written for low flutes before Peter commissioned me to compose this piece. It was exciting to explore the warm deep sounds of the bass flute and the rich full tone of the alto flute which I then underscored with rippling, atmospheric piano accompaniment. The two flutes intertwining with their lyrical melodies are evocative of the wind over the ocean, or birds at play in the forest. I suppose the main challenge was making sure all voices could be heard and keeping the piano part in a register that complemented the range and tone colours of the low flutes (although they both play fairly high in some sections). I was also aware that more breath is required on the larger flutes, so making sure the phrases were playable with enough breathing opportunities was important.

You recorded this work with Lisa-Maree and Peter in 2014. What was the rehearsal and recording experience like as both the composer and the pianist?

It was very satisfying to record my own composition with two such expressive and accomplished musicians. It was really a fantastic experience to play together, largely because we were all committed to creating a communication through the music that would uplift the audience and express the intention of the piece. I think this comes across on the recording. It certainly helps to have a common purpose when performing and recording chamber music.

I’d love to hear about your earliest forays into composition. Were you engaged in composing throughout your early musical studies at school or university, or did the interest come later?

As far as I remember, I started composing at the piano almost as soon as I began learning the instrument. My father was an enthusiastic audience and recorded a lot of my early pieces on cassette tape, which I still have!

Going through high school at VCASS in Melbourne I concentrated more on learning the oboe and continuing my piano playing. We had excellent music theory teachers; Jan Stockigt & June Ralfe.

I haven’t studied composition formally but having an excellent grounding in theory alongside my all-round music education at VCASS & VCA have helped in my ability to compose.

You write a lot for wind players, which must stem in part from your work as an oboist, and oboe accompanist. How did you begin playing the oboe, and has your personal practice shaped the way you now approach composition?

I began playing the oboe in year 7 when I started at VCASS. I already played piano but adding an orchestral instrument to my repertoire has proved to be invaluable. The experience I’ve had in chamber groups & orchestras combined with piano accompanying has given me great insight into composing for a variety of instruments. Understanding breathing has obviously helped when composing for wind players.

As well as being a busy freelance composer, you also teach privately and in schools. How do you make time to write music in amongst your other commitments?

I try to keep a day or two free for composing, but it is a bit of a juggling act when fitting in teaching and performing as well. I really enjoy the variety of doing all three. Creating music for young people is something I love so teaching and accompanying complements my composing. It’s great to get instant feedback from a student if I compose them a piece (usually it’s positive!) It also means some late nights and making use of the extra time during school holidays to compose.

Your compositions, in your own words, seek to communicate the essence of the human spirit and uplift the audience. How has your involvement in Kenja Communication Training changed or shaped the way you approach composition?

I was fortunate to come across Kenja training, developed in Sydney by Ken Dyers and Jan Dyers, in my early twenties after I’d graduated from the VCA. To me, it was the perfect next step in my training as it involves human communication and understanding that it’s the energy that we use in our interactions that affects the response we get from other people in the environment. This is so true in music performance and composition.

An integral part of Kenja training is a form of meditation called energy conversion. The increased level of stillness and focus I gain from this has enabled me to tap into a level of creativity that was difficult to achieve previously.

The ability to not be an effect of negative unconscious thoughts and emotions (eg “I can’t compose”, “this sounds terrible”, “I can’t think of anything new” etc) gives me much more freedom to create.

Music is energy. A note has a wavelength. Everything in the physical universe is energy. My ability now to perceive and understand this is essential to my composing. This area of subtle energies profoundly affects our aesthetic in life and communication. It is probably the basis for creation musically. By taking the “stuck significance” of communication through music, for example- restrictions that peers and oneself places on different “types” of music, I feel I can begin to truly originate a creation rather than unconsciously regurgitate old learned patterns.

It’s even become very real to me that the working environment for composers, musicians, students etc, can influence their ability to perform and create. For example – a competitive and non-human environment where students and performers unconsciously engage in communication to establish themselves at the expense of others, will affect the final outcome. The truly great artists always seem to use love consciousness, which brings out our human caring and elevates us always to something higher.

I’ll often start composing a piece by deciding what energy or aesthetic I want to communicate, or even what effect I’d like to create on the audience. I’ll then get a picture that complements that. e.g a bird flying over the ocean, a sunrise or galloping horses. The notes flow from that. It also helps to know what the intention or purpose of a piece is before I start writing it. I find that if my intention is to communicate something that’s of benefit to other people, then that magical flow of ideas and notes will come more easily. This I feel has come from an enhanced sensitivity from this training.

For developing composers who are interested in pursuing a career, do you have any advice on how to get your work into the world and heard by an audience?

Firstly look to your immediate environment and people you know that could benefit from your music. To start with you might give some pieces you’ve written to local community or school choirs, chamber groups or orchestras to include in their programs. Do you have friends in chamber groups or performing recitals? Offer to compose something for them to perform.

Getting your music published is also a great way of getting it out into the environment. Wirripang publishers run by Anne & Brennan Keats are great supporters of Australian composers and will accept new music for consideration.

As far as earning an income from composing, commissions are a great avenue for income. You might need to get your music played, published or recorded first and then before long you will establish a demand for your pieces and can charge a commission fee. I have had several performances of my works which have led to further commissions from people in the audience who enjoyed it & wanted a new work for their choir or chamber group. Creating a website and including recordings of your music is a great reference for people to look you up and hear more of your works.

In Conversation: Rachael Beesley

RM: When we talk about historically informed performance, the research and educational aspects of the music seem to have a great importance to those performing the works, which gives audiences a way to dig their teeth into what you are doing on stage. Do you find this unique to the art form?

RB: I love engaging with the audience in that way - breaking down barriers and allowing performers to speak about the music and their own personal experiences of exploring the repertoire. The research aspect of performance is a conscious choice as it enables me to really get inside the music - I feel closest to the composer’s intention when I’ve explored every possibility. Knowing the background to the compositions, the effects of the music and knowing which movements have been influenced by which dances or texts whilst exploring the aesthetic and the cultural background of the time - discovering all these things is a huge part of my preparation before I even touch the instrument and begin studying the notes. And then, you also must consider the modern concert hall and the affects it has on the way you play and prepare. I like to think that we are able to create a new opening for this repertoire to be heard, without the years of changing technique layered on top of the original music.

RM: Can you explain the idea of how time, and the changing methods of performance practice, create layers on top of the original score or idea?

RB: In explaining this idea, I usually draw parallels to painting: take a famous work like the Mona Lisa, for example. If you see it now you expect it to be of the time; as in, it looks as it was when da Vinci first created it. It has been refreshed, of course, and some work has been done to restore it, but really you’re still seeing the original. You’re not looking at a piece of artwork that has had the subsequent 500 years of artists paint on top of it over and over again. That could be a valid work of art in itself but it wouldn’t be the original, it would be a completely new piece. That’s what I think has happened over time in the world of music - we tend to layer different approaches on top of one another. So what we’re trying to do here is refresh our eyes and ears; looking at what has been added and what was there originally and then as performers can make informed choices. Musical choices are not always made from this research base but perhaps by looking deeply at what was happening at the time of composition and why certain aesthetics and affects appeared this brings you closer to what the composer intended the audience to feel.

RM: What does playing on a historically accurate instrument mean for you as a performer? Does it change the way you are able to naturally interpret the music?

RB: I personally feel a deep connection with the gut strings whilst using a period bow. The articulation allows us to speak the music and show the rhetorical gestures much more clearly, and actually, it’s a bit easier! Modern instruments are all about evenness and showing a silky-smooth exterior, while the historic instruments are grittier and allow for a little more nuance and texture. It results in a different play or balance between the instruments and this creates a very special quality on stage. I love that exploration.

RM: The idea that you’re presenting a modern audience with an experience that is as close as possible to that which a 17th, 18th or 19th century audience would be receiving is completely fascinating to me. I wonder, from your experience of performing the works on a modern instrument compared to a period instrument, what are the differences in how you experience that as an audience member?

RB: Audiences are often a little shocked by the experience! They’re forced to be more active as listeners, as they’re made to be aware of different sounds, unusual sounds perhaps. A piece that they may know quite well will not sound as they expect it and that shock creates a different energy in the concert hall. The audience then becomes a living part of the performance. Performing on historic instruments does require a different kind of engagement and this positive response we receive from the audience, highlights how their experience is enhanced by this knowledge and insight.

RM: Because we listen to music differently now due to changing technologies and the modern concert hall set-up, we’ve changed the way we allow audiences to experience the work of the performer. Do you find this to be true?

RB: There is perhaps more physical distance now, between the performer and the audience and many people now only listen to recorded music on devices, so are often not used to sitting and listening to music performed live. But music also has a different meaning for society - if you were playing for the king, you would have played in a way that wasn’t the same as performing in church for a congregation. So as a modern performer, you have to understand what your role is and how to communicate the composer’s intention in a 21st century setting by bringing people on a musical journey.

RM: Do you have words of advice for young musicians interested in a performance career, whether historically informed or otherwise?

RB: Stay curious! Keep asking questions and never stop learning. Explore and improvise with many different styles and approaches to music and find ways that work for you.

In Conversation: Kram and Paul Grabowsky

Paul Grabowsky and Kram, who will be performing alongside James Morrison as 'The Others' at the 2018 Melbourne International Jazz Festival, took some time out of their busy press schedule to sit down with us at the Langham in Melbourne. The conversation twists and turns, mirroring one of their improvisations. Don't miss this trio of stars while they're in town.

Kram: I think the cold weather might help with songwriting. When you're at the beach, you kind of just want to spend time there, not thinking about anything else but when it's cold, it's easier to get to work! I was saying today that not a lot of masterpieces were created in paradise, so maybe that has something to do with it?

Rehearsal: This is such an exciting collaboration; can I ask where the idea came from?

Kram: It was my idea, I'm responsible! I did an improvisation at the Town Hall many years ago with a bunch of musicians and I got really inspired to start playing jazz again. I ran into Paul at that gig and asked if he was keen to get together for a jam. I had already run into James - we were on a Shaun Micallef show together I think - and I remember asking him if he wanted to play something with me. I was feeling like I needed to shake things up and so was he, so eventually all three of us had a session in Melbourne. We literally just started playing and we knew that it was going to work. One of the first things we played together has become the press work that we're sending around; at the end of it you can hear Paul laughing because we were having such a good time! We finally played our first show last year at the Wangaratta Jazz Festival thanks to Adam Simmons, and the response was so overwhelming. This will be our second ever show. It's been a long road to get here, but we're thrilled to have arrived.

Rehearsal: You both have performed and written for genres outside of jazz, but I imagine working in this intimate set up is a little like coming home.

Kram: I was a country kid but I had an amazing teacher, who wanted to escape the city so came to work with students in the area I lived. We connected and she encouraged me to play jazz, which you can hear in the early Spiderbait stuff - it was definitely a really important influence for me. After uni though, when the band started to take off I definitely left jazz behind a bit, so returning to it in this set up is like returning to something that I'd forgotten about but means a lot to me. I really enjoy the dynamic nature of playing jazz; it can be sentimental but also completely wild.

Rehearsal: Paul, you began by playing classical piano - where did jazz begin to form part of your musical journey?

Grabowsky: I began playing piano when I was really small, maybe 4 or 5, and my training was completely classical until the end of high school. I started to get into jazz before I finished school though - I went to Wesley when the jazz program was just getting started, so I was in one of the very first iterations of the Wesley College Big Band, and that would have been my introduction to playing jazz music. Looking at a piece of music that didn't have everything written out on it and knowing how to interpret it - that was the first challenge! It was a steep learning curve, but the more I got into it, the more I realised that this was actually the music I wanted to be playing. I could play the piano well, but I really wanted to be able to play the piano and make it work for me, rather than having to work for it. I was kind of in a servile relationship with the instrument!

Kram: Because of the music you were playing?

Grabowsky: I think so - though, not every classical musician would say that; for many, the interpretation is exactly the point. Many musicians want to serve the instrument and serve the composers, and that's what training does in many cases. Jazz for me, as a pianist, was a way to bring my ability to play the piano and put it into a creative world. You had to be able to convert the playing into the making. That marriage of intellect and passion, which is at the heart of jazz, is the most exciting thing.

Kram: Piano embodies rhythm as well, doesn't it? It's just there waiting for you. I always thought as a percussionist, that the piano was so much about rhythm and body.

Grabowsky: Nothing else can do what a piano does. An electronic instrument might have the best samples in the world, but it's still so limited. As a piano player, you have to use your entire body to make the piano sing. There's no other way of doing it.

Kram: No amount of technology can replace those acoustic instruments, just like no experience can replace live music. It's ancient - we need it, as humans.

Grabowsky: Because live performance is so much about energy transfer. This is very much getting back what The Others is about. Because we improvise music, we have no idea what it's going to sound like and we're still in the process of discovering our own sound. The relationship between the band and the audience which we experienced for the first time last year in Wangaratta, was a huge factor in shaping what we do as an ensemble.

Kram: It's changed us completely; we're different because of it. If we were to do this interview before that first performance, I think we would be talking about our music and our performance as an ensemble completely differently.

Grabowsky: There's such an important dynamic between an audience and a band; it's almost like a tribe. Your audience needs to relate to you, but also trust you as a performer. Jazz doesn't always have as immediate a relationship with an audience as other genres, so there is a slightly different way of connecting.

Kram: I've definitely noticed that since we started playing. I've noticed how reluctant jazz musicians are to get really crazy in front of their audience because that's something I really love to do! When you get into a groove, it's so freeing to just let go and enjoy yourself and the space and the response. When you look back at older jazz musicians, like Coltrane for example, he really allowed himself to be free and playful with the audience, but things are a bit more chill now. The music is still great but there's less wildness. We try not to let that get to us though - we want to get the crowd going and not be too self-conscious about our presence. These guys make me feel really comfortable as well, and that makes a big difference, I think.

Grabowsky: I suppose the idea is that jazz is serious in lots of ways, but that shouldn't mean that you can't have fun. There is a seriousness about having fun and you can have a lot of fun being serious!

Rehearsal: Does the fact that you're improvising have any influence on that?

Grabowsky: I think so - there's an element of game play about improvising. Everybody kind of knows what the rules are, but they're kind of making them up as they go. When I speak to people who don't know much about jazz, I often say there are three ways of thinking about improvisation: the ability to be able to play your instrument well, the ability to listen and the ability to trust. If you analyse a lot of the world's problems, you see the root is an inability to listen, so while it might seem simple, actually allowing yourself to stop talking makes a real impact: you have to shut up and listen! If people would shut up and listen to one another they might get to a point of thinking "okay, right - that's what you mean". In music, that's the bottom line; it's all about mindfulness, to use a modern buzzword. You have to listen and you have to trust. You are there for the people you are playing with and they are there for you.

Kram: You also have to trust the audience. I used to get really stressed out about performing until I started allowing myself to enjoy performing for the people who were coming to see me play. You can actually change your whole mindset about that, which adjusts the way you play. Whenever I play now, I try and remember that this might be the last gig I ever play, so I treat the moment as if it's really special and that allows me to let go.

Grabowsky: I totally agree with that; it's the heart of the matter.

Rehearsal: Speaking of trust and the ability to bounce off each other and allow yourselves to improvise, I wonder how immediate that feeling was between the three of you? Did it happen straight away, or has it developed over your rehearsal time?

Kram: It happened straight away. We recorded the first jam we ever had and that has been really wonderful, because we look back at that and can reflect on how immediate the feeling was. Because we trusted each other almost immediately, we've been able to build on that - Wangaratta was freer and I think the MRC will be bigger again. Every gig is our first gig, every time we play together it's new.

Grabowsky: I think if we ever got to a point where we felt like we were repeating ourselves, someone would shake it up.

Rehearsal: How has improvisation impacted your songwriting? Does your composition come from a place of improv or is there some more significant structure to your approach?

Grabowsky: The creative process is such a mysterious thing - I've thought about this question a lot! I think there's a major link between the creative moment and memory because I don't think anything is completely new; everything is related to everything. All my ideas have a lineage - all chords have been used before I use them, you know? The real geniuses of music have been able to rearrange information in surprising or original ways. Is it improvisation, though? Sometimes, yes. When you're improvising, you're throwing yourself into the stream of time. In songwriting, you're normally compartmentalising your decision-making process into a set form - looking at the end product and trying to arrive there. The idea of determinism and destination is important in songwriting. What we make is a giving over of all of our knowledge and memories into whatever happens in that 90-minute stream, and there is a lot of compositional thought that goes into that but it is slightly different from songwriting.

Kram: The end product is the goal in songwriting, as you say Paul, but I think it's also the goal in improvising - it just takes slightly longer to get over the hill and see the end. You can kind of feel when the piece is winding down. I do believe you take the songwriting ideology into the improvisation realm, and you start to play and write at the same time. It's the speediest kind of songwriting; good improvisation is knowing when to stop!

Grabowsky: There's a funny story about John Coltrane when he was playing with Miles Davis. It was one of his last tours in Europe and he was working through a whole lot of ideas, which meant his improvised solos were very long; you couldn't play three or four choruses, you had to play twenty, so he could get all his thoughts out. Coltrane went to Davis and said that he was sorry for playing such long solos, but he had all these ideas and he wasn't sure how to bring them to a conclusion. Davis apparently said, "try taking the horn out of your mouth."

Kram: Really? There are two different personalities right there! I saw Miles play once.

Grabowsky: I opened for him in Europe in '84. I didn't meet him - I was playing with Art Farmer, but I was too scared to go up to Miles! There was a vibe around him; he used to wear these clothes made out of parachutes and dark glasses, he was so good. It was quite enough to be near him, he was a superstar!

Kram: We're in a space now where it'd be great to see some more risk taking in jazz, like Coltrane was doing, like Davis was doing. I want young people to know that if you don't take a risk, you don't get the reward, so it's worth crashing and burning to find out what you can do.

Rehearsal: Speaking of risk-taking, what are your thoughts on building a career now as a young jazz musician, particularly when the idea of "jazz" is so broad?

Kram: Two things: firstly, you have to get as good as you can get. There are so many things that you have control over when you're working in this industry, but you do have control over your own ability. You have to practice and work and love it. The second thing is finding your own individual sound. People will respond to your individuality, and you'll feel freer to create the things you need to create. It took me a while to get there and years later it all twigged at once - I just had to be myself.

Grabowsky: You're completely right, it's completely critical. There is a point in time in which you have to unburden yourself from the anxiety of influence. And you can never stop learning.

In Conversation: Liam Wooding

How has the concept of “home” influenced your playing?

Of course, home comes to me in fleeting thoughts, but more broadly, it is also a consistent part of my manifesto. I grew up in a small town in New Zealand and I began playing the piano at school and at home, before performing the local music society concerts. When I look back at that experience, I realise how influential it has been for me as a person and a performer. Being surrounded by such strong community values and people who prioritised music in such a significant way was, without me realising it at the time, completely affecting. Two other people I grew up with went on to post-graduate piano study at home and overseas, which is unheard of now, and I think the understanding that you could take your skills and do anything allowed us to consider music a real possibility.

The performers you grew up with have all dispersed around the world now - you’re here in Melbourne; do you still feel strong ties to that community experience?

I think that experience gave me a strong set of musical and philosophical values. It’s about playing, in both senses of the word, and community. Less about repertoire or ego, performance is a collaboration between audience and soloist – which is something I learned and put into practice at home as a young pianist.

As a solo pianist, how do you create a community when you spend so much time practising alone?

ANAM is a really special place when it comes to collaboration - being there reminds you that you're part of something bigger. It’s a bit like work, I suppose; you turn up to your workspace and then you do your practice in an office. You can pop out to the corridor and have a chat when you need to and work in teams on chamber performance, too. In the industry it’s harder to recreate that, so I’m trying not to limit my possibilities as a performer, because I might not end up where I initially expect to! Right now, I want to be a pianist in the broadest sense of the word - a musician whose main tool of expression is the piano. I’m interested in finding opportunities that are exciting and interesting and collaborative.

Do you prefer to play collaboratively?

So far, collaborative performance has been my life, but playing solo has never been the strongest part of my practice and while I’m in training and I have the resources, I think it’s important to learn how to become the strongest soloist I can be. In saying that, I’m doing a bit of collaborative work in this upcoming recital with my teacher, Timothy Young.

Can you tell me about the programming decisions you’ve made for your ANAM recital?

Jack Body, the composer whose work I have referenced in the title of the overall concert, was born in New Zealand, but spent time in Indonesia developing his compositional style. He spent a lot of time working between the two places and his music references both sound worlds. Debussy, similarly, was looking away from his home of France towards Asia for inspiration. So, two composers looking away from the Western canon and away from their home to create themselves a new sense of place. There was a strong connection between Chopin and Debussy as well, so this performance is all about family and growing up, moving on and developing.

I get that sense that each of the composers that you are performing have their own understanding of their individual country’s “style”. We talk about what makes a uniquely Australian sound all the time and I wonder if you could speak on the New Zealand sound world?

I think New Zealand is so much more than landscape representation. I know that’s a distinctive part of the country, but colonisation has disrupted or confused our sense of “New Zealandness”. As generations grow and change, who we are is so greatly influenced by our art making. Whether visual or performative, art helps us tell our stories because it shows who we are and what is important to our community at any given time in history. Every New Zealand composer writes works that contribute to the culture and to the artistic understanding of our country's stories.

Why is it important for you to champion the creation of New Zealand art and composition?

So those works are magnified; not in the sense of making something small big, but to allow us to see them more clearly. Mozart and Chopin are amazing and should be performed frequently, as they are, but not at the expense of new works, I believe.

When you were growing up, did you play works by New Zealand composers?

The first chamber work I played was by a local composer, and one of my piano teachers’ really encouraged me to get involved and invested in New Zealand composition. Her passion made me care for it and see the importance in finding things out and developing new ideas. It’s important to me that the work I do is more than just finding a nice sounding piece and rehearsing it for a performance. I want to show what is important about the works that I play and offer them up to the audience so it’s theirs to take something away from. In all music – historic and new – we as performers excavate the notes on the page and find ways of delivering them in the most exciting or moving way, and always for the benefit of the audience.

Speaking of audiences taking something away from each performance, what are your thoughts on engaging with those people who are coming to see your concert – perhaps not only while you’re playing, but before and after?

Audience engagement is far bigger than what that group of people sees when they are sitting in your recital. It starts when you begin sharing information online and carries through to when people buy your CD after the concert. I think of audience engagement like community building: how can my music inspire or provoke thought from those hearing it, and will they continue to be invested in my performances? How can I serve them? I think artists have to take ownership of their work and find the best ways to grow their individual audiences, and it can’t be ego-based – you can’t always just program the things you love the best and expect people to show up. There’s so much more to it and I’ve found that self-reflection around why I’m doing things encourages me to be innovative with how I’m doing them.

What does innovation mean to you more broadly in a classical sense, particularly considering that much of the music we perform is hundreds of years old?

Classical music allows us to learn new things faster – it is an art form that totally speaks to now. There are a few considerations when playing historic music: the first is faithfulness to the score but the other side of that coin is the idea of throwing the score out the window a little bit! Instead, we can try and distil the priorities of the composers when they were living – political movements, embracing new technologies, etc. – and use those in a modern context. Perhaps performers should act more like translators than historians, allowing the music to grow and change.

In Conversation: Catherine Carby

You’re currently performing with the English Touring Opera in Rossini: Fireworks! Can you tell me about your first experience with Rossini - how it came about and how your relationship with the composer has grown since your career began?

My very first experience with Rossini was singing Rosina in a touring production for OzOpera (the touring arm of Opera Australia) in 1998. On alternate nights I sang the chorus and played percussion onstage in the overture!

I think I’ve always been quite wary of Rossini. I’ve done a lot of bel canto (like Donizetti and Bellini) but felt that Rossini was a bit too specialist for me - too hard, too many runs, too light and high. Returning to it now after spending the first part of this year singing Monteverdi, it feels about right. I’d never say it’s easy and this particular concert program is a big sing for me (some long arias and a big chunk of Elisabetta for the finale), but it feels more “doable” than it used to.

How do you prepare your repertoire for a concert performance like this one? Does it differ from when you get ready to play a staged role?

I guess the trick with preparing a concert is how to “sell” a piece when you won’t have the luxury of costumes and sets and lighting. Also, the biggest hurdle for me is literally singing the pieces. In an opera, you might have four weeks of rehearsals in which to work out any technical problems and learn how to get around the “corners” of a piece. Hopefully, by opening night you’ve sung the tricky bits so often - under lots of different circumstances - that you can’t help but get it right. Concerts are not like that; chances are you might have a week (if you’re lucky) of music calls with the conductor and a pianist and then later with the orchestra. It’s a fast, short learning curve. The only way you can be really well prepared is to in fact be really well prepared!

For developing artists, how important is learning concert work alongside full roles? Do the skills you need for both translate easily to one another, or must you practice in the different styles of working?

Concert work still forms a very valuable (and lucrative!) backbone to my opera work. Learn all the “standards” (Messiah, Elijah, Verdi Requiem), as they will crop up again and again throughout your performing life. I’ve paid many a school bill or mortgage payment with Easter Bach Passion fees!

Stylistically, opera and oratorio aren’t necessarily a million miles apart. They both desire to tell a story and make the listener think and feel something. As all good music does.

Your studies began in Canberra at the School of Music, before you moved to the United Kingdom to pursue further training at the Royal College of Music. Can you tell me about that move and what it meant to you as a young singer?

Moving to the UK early on was a massive step for me. It enabled me to be seen in London regularly, and after I joined the roster of a big UK agency (IMG), I basically studied and worked solidly for 4 years, before I came back home to work for Opera Australia. It was great to be exposed to so much music at such a high level; we regularly got coaching from the best people in the industry even before we got to work for them, so there was a level of familiarity that I wouldn’t have had if I’d stayed in Sydney or Canberra. I remember the first concert I ever went to in London was Anne Sofie von Otter singing Alceste at the Barbican - it really doesn’t get better than that!

Pursuing a career overseas is currently a goal for many young singers, but of course, a major move comes with both opportunities and difficulties. Do you have any advice to developing performers who wish to pursue further study outside of Australia?

Develop self-love! Seriously, this doesn’t mean having a big ego and thinking that you are awesome, but genuinely being kind to yourself and realising that you are human. It’s a very tough industry and there are a lot of knockbacks along the way. Even now I’m asked to audition for things and I may or may not get them. You have to learn to be happy in your own skin despite constant rejection. I’ve become a lot more philosophical about rejection as I’ve gotten older and learned that it’s not necessarily about me as a person or as a performer. Not everyone will love what you do and that’s ok.

You have performed roles all over the world, in houses from the Royal Opera House to Teatro Sao Carlos in Lisbon, and back home with Opera Australia. How do you look after yourself when you’re on the road and away from home for long periods? Do you have a moveable routine or do things change depending on your work and where you are?

When I’m away from home I try to maintain some semblance of normality. I take posh candles, pictures in frames and usually at least one baking tray with me! I walk a lot no matter where I am, so being in a new place just gives me new places to walk. I also do yoga either on my own or in a class, so this is often a way of meeting some “locals”.

Staying calm and focussed before performances and during preparation periods is much discussed for all musicians. Do you have ways of managing stress or “busy-ness” when things get hectic?

Definitely yoga and the meditative side that that involves. I’m a much calmer, happier, nicer person when I’m regularly going to a class.

I also need to be well prepared. I don’t like “winging it”, so I avoid ever having to live too dangerously in terms of the music. Preparation means less stress and less stuff that can go wrong. (That being said, I have done jump-ins and lived to tell the tale. Last year I was rung at very late notice to jump in for an ill colleague for the CBSO. Could I learn Juno and Ino from Semele in 3 days? Well, I did. But it did take several years off my life!)

Finally, if you could go back to the start of your career and give yourself a piece of advice about the industry you were about to join, what would it be?

My best advice would be to just go for it! Ask that person for a coaching, thrust your business card into that person’s hand. You only have one life and one shot at a career, so do it!

In Conversation: Syzygy Ensemble

There’s a beautiful sentence on your website about how Syzygy is empathetic towards music that is being written today, which really struck a chord with me. I wonder if you can talk about that word empathy within the context of your work in championing living composers?

It’s always been part of our ensemble personality to be excited about sharing new music with people in a non “ivory-tower” method. We’ve been to concerts where we’ve felt like outsiders perhaps despite our high level of music education, so when we started Syzygy, we wanted to offer audiences a way into the world by providing context for new pieces in a really accessible way. This is part of the reason we play older pieces alongside premieres – just because we play contemporary works doesn’t mean we’ve rejected or forgotten more traditional or “canon” pieces. We’re interested in making connections as listeners and lovers of classical and chamber music. There must be something in the language of any sort of music that expresses things that are happening in our contemporary lives.

Does that go to how you make decisions around commissioning from an aesthetic point of view?

It informs our decision making a little bit; people are attracted to working with us because of our musical style, but that is not to say that we shy away from unfamiliar syntaxes or unusual ways of working. We love doing things that are a bit out of the box, while being influenced significantly by expressionist composers. Additionally, there are great ways of presenting music that is a bit more elite or niche in accessible and contextual settings. Often when curating our seasons, we look for a major piece to base an entire program around, which may be new or old, and then we build up from there. Other times we look at a broader theme and pull compositions in towards that idea.

With the understanding that you’re bringing your audience in via an idea that they already have some connection with and then expanding that into musical languages and aesthetics that are new?

Exactly, we have this philosophy that we, as an ensemble, should be “ear stretching not face slapping”! It’s not about being likeable or non-confrontational, but instead allowing people to take just one step further out of their comfort zone.

You each also work with ensembles that perform works which sit within the classical canon, so is the method that you work with at Syzygy also ear stretching for you as the performers?

It certainly gives us new ways of listening and understanding contemporary music. We have limited time to prepare for each performance, so learning how to rehearse together in a way that is efficient and empathetic has been really important. We have presented pieces that do not stick to a traditional method of performance and those works really make us consider and shift how we best work together. As an ensemble, we really try to never be conducted, even if scores have a recommendation as such, so our rehearsal time has to take into account the fact we are working towards a performance where we are all leaders, while watching and listening in a traditionally chamber way, even if the piece is a lot more complex than other works in the repertoire.

For your upcoming performance at the Melbourne Recital Centre, Pagan Dances, which focusses on different reasons for and different ways of dancing, has your rehearsal method changed because of how integral movement is to the program?

We are going to stand for the whole concert so we’re free from the restrictions of being seated and consequently, feeling tied down. The pieces, because they’re based on movement, need to feel alive, and working away from chairs will allow us to be more connected with our own bodies, and therefore, each other’s movements as well. That’s what the energy of this program requires. The only piece that will have us sitting is the new work by Emile Frankel, whose piece was inspired by intimate spaces, and requires a different type of dynamic within the group. If you’re in the audience, you’ll hear that difference! Compared to the rest of the program, there is a lot of space and suspension, and as a listener, time stands still and seems to hover a little.

What has it been like to rehearse Emile’s work, particularly amongst the other high-octane pieces on the program?

It was tricky to begin with! His piece sees us coaxing the sounds out of our instruments, trying to achieve a real purity of tone and feel. As the work develops, distortion enters the sound world and Emile plays around a lot with microtonal ideas and subtle additional actions that add to the texture. It kind of sounds like a record player rolling in the next room; subtle melodic ideas grab your ear and offer the audience something to latch onto. There is still this tiny element of dance in the work, it’s just slightly more internalised.

There are so many wonderful links and connections that Syzygy plays with between programming and philosophy; is this planned or happy coincidence?

We are inspired by symbiosis – Syzygy is really five soloists who work together closely in a co-dependent relationship to produce something that is larger than the sum of its parts. Our friendship is really important, because as soon as we walk into the rehearsal room we are able to be really tough on each other. What we do is complex and we work on short lead times, but because of our friendships we can be efficient and direct. We’ve found that we have to take off our socialising hats the minute we walk into the rehearsal space because time is so precious. It’s a very special thing though, being able to do this with people who are so much fun. Everything about making new music is hard – there’s not much money, it takes a lot of energy, there’s so much administrative work to do – but we’re in it together and we love doing what we do as an ensemble. We rely on each other so heavily and knowing that there’s always someone that has your back on stage; that makes it worth it.

In Conversation: Angus Davison and SPIRAL

Your new piece, Odd Logic, is being premiered tonight by SPIRAL at 107 Redfern in Sydney. Could you tell me a little about it?

Odd Logic was commissioned by SPIRAL for the first concert of their 2018 season. In one continuous movement, Odd Logic runs approximately 20 minutes. The music is full of contrast and vitality. The wide registral and dynamic range of the ensemble is put to use, and there are moments to shine for the ensemble in the slowly shifting tremolo textures, tuneful interludes, and passages of spirited ostinati.

SPIRAL's primary focus is music from, and influenced by, the minimalist canon. I also have an affinity for this music, and minimalist textures and processes are plain to hear at a number of points in the work. What may be less obvious are the devices operating under the surface of the music: the piece is divided into halves by a general pause, thirds by metric/rhythmic changes, and into still smaller portions by pitch centre, harmonic language, instrumentation and texture.

SPIRAL is unusual in that it does not have an entirely typical instrumentation. How does writing for SPIRAL differ from your other compositions; is it more challenging, or is it easier?

SPIRAL’s instrumentation immediately appealed to me. Omitting guitar, I split the ensemble into two trios of flute, keyboard, and bass which are slightly separated on stage. At times the trios work together, at others they move autonomously. I find this sort of arrangement great fun to work with.

You have written many pieces across a diverse range of styles throughout your career so far. What kind of instrumental (or vocal) ensembles have you written for before?

I’ve been privileged to work with many excellent ensembles and soloists such as the Tasmanian Symphony Orchestra, Huon String Quartet, Note-Aurius, Xyris and Beraga Saxophone Quartets, Ady Ensemble, Hobart Wind Symphony and pianist Jack Barnes among others. I’ve composed film scores, incidental music for theatre, and pedagocial works for young musicians. Currently, I’m writing for one of Australia’s finest young baritones, Michael Lampard, setting a quirky text called La Journée du musicien. This text, which you can find on my website, details French composer Eric Satie’s (alleged) daily schedule and if a quarter of it is true then he was quite a character!

When and where have you studied?

I commenced my tertiary studies at the Tasmanian Conservatorium of Music in 2012, graduating with a BMus. In 2016 I moved to Sydney and completed First Class Honours at the Sydney Conservatorium of Music where I studied with Michael Smetanin.

It can be tough for a composer to "make it", or indeed to even find motivation to continue writing; do you have any pearls of wisdom for other budding young composers out there?

Think very carefully before deciding to study composition at university. More students than ever are pursuing tertiary studies in composition and the vast majority of them will not become established composers. Unless you are compelled to compose at some deep level, it may not be a good decision to invest three years and $20000 into a composition degree.

If you do decide to pursue composing (and the following are as much notes to myself as to others!):
1) Work very hard. If you don’t then you definitely won’t get anywhere.
2) Strive to maintain balance in your life. The Composer’s experience involves joy but also regular disappointment. On those days where you are struggling to write or your grant application gets rejected, you need other aspects of your life to be strong so you can stay healthy and happy.

In Conversation: Anne Lanzilotti

Kieran Welch: Hi Anne! I’m so excited to have you joining us at Dots+Loops on Friday. Is this your first trip to Australia?

Anne Lanzilotti: It will be my first trip, and I'm so excited to be here!

KW: Can we kick things off by talking a bit about The Yes &? How did the band begin?

AL: The band is just Gahlord Dewald and myself - he’s on modular synth and I'm on viola, which is an interesting combination of instruments. It started originally because of a common interest in combining the two sound worlds in order to do creative workshops and the idea of working with students and professionals about how creativity is related to problem-solving. We ended up doing a lot more performing than expected though, and have had a lot of fun playing around with sounds and ideas. My specialisation is matching electronics and acoustics; sourcing sounds and manipulating them. That’s one of the special things about The Yes & sound - sometimes I'm working from the viola to create an electronic sound and Gahlord is using his modular synthesizer to create an acoustic sound.

KW: My whole life has been trying to combine the electronic music I love listening to with the classical viola tradition I’ve been brought up on, and as both a listener and a performer, the combination is fascinating! Trying to explore electronic timbres and extended techniques on an acoustic instrument is an exciting concept, I think.

AL: A lot of what we think of as electronic sounds on an acoustic instrument comes down to how the timbre is being messed with. We're lucky as string players to have such a wide range of timbres that you don’t get on other instruments. There are subtle things you can do that sound beautiful on say, a clarinet, but you can really play around with your overtones on a string instrument.

KW: You mentioned that your specialisation was based in sound exploration; how would you describe yourself as a musician more broadly?

AL: I teach at a university and am in a position of being a classical violist, but with the viola in general, you are able to do so much more because you can fit into a broad array of different genres. Before being a freelancer in New York, for me that meant recording on pop albums, playing in bands and doing everything from playing really traditional classical music to doing back up strings with contemporary artists. I’m still an orchestral violist, but that’s just purely because of my type of training, which has actually allowed me to do so much more than it might initially suggest.

KW: As a curator and performer, I'm interested in exploring the idea of being "post-genre" and it's exciting to hear that you think in a similar way. The terminology around this sound world can be rather problematic though; "contemporary classical" as a genre meaning so many things to so many people. There is such a broad range of answers and ideas, but what does "contemporary classical" mean for you?

AL: For me, it’s anything that is being written now; contemporary music is 21st-century music! I would define it as a reference to time rather than a genre, really, because I think in the traditional classical world, considering it as a genre can become confusing to a pre-existing audience who are interested in Western Art Music specifically. When audiences turn up to a concert hall, they’re still expecting something that fits within their understanding of classical music; if you’ve got an overture by Strauss that is familiar, followed by an atonal piece that isn't, your audience may be confused because it doesn't match with their expectations. I'm interested in finding different ways of presenting contemporary classical music, so audiences can hear it with open ears in a comfortable context.

KW: Context is so important, as is space, I think. If you use a non-traditional space, you're offering your audience a clean slate, because they don’t come expecting anything specific. When you’re in a concert hall, you’re experiencing the music within a pre-existing context, with historic significance.

AL: Allowing your audience to feel comfortable in their own bodies within a space is so important. If you haven’t been to a concert hall before, it's easy to feel out of place because there are funny rules about when you clap, and the chairs feel strange, and you shouldn't cough during the middle of a work and so on. It’s great to get out of those confines because you become a better listener instinctively when you're not worried about little things like that. Also, a lot of older traditional music was written in a sonata-allegro form; it’s about themes and reaffirming that you’ll get back to the place you were as a listener, whereas in contemporary music, that strictly set-out form has been replaced with a more rotational form, moving through sounds and processes more fluidly. As a listener, being able to take an approach to contemporary works that allows for a journey is very affirming. Conversely, I think that’s hard as an audience member if you’re not ready for it. As a community of contemporary music makers, it's a puzzle that we have to solve.

KW: Musical problem-solving is an important point on a number of levels; on a small-scale, I often talk to my students about what they feel when they are struggling with a piece of repertoire and encourage them to think about it as a crossword rather than a simple "correct" or "incorrect" equation.

AL: That was a big part of our thinking when we started The Yes &. I’ve learned so much from working in this way and focussing on improvisation, particularly as a classically trained musician. In other kinds of music, something that might be considered a mistake is, in this context, just a different way of making live decisions. That’s the problem-solving aspect - there’s not one right way of doing something. We have a lot of skills and have developed our crafts to a certain point so that in real time we can develop and progress a piece organically.

KW: I was always so scared of making mistakes in my undergraduate degree and every time I did make one it felt totally crippling. Moving into a more post-genre way of thinking, I’m scared so much less. It is freeing to change the focus from being a perfect performer, to being an actual musician who can react and experiment on stage.

AL: When it becomes about craft and not about executing things perfectly, that feels great. The differences and "mistakes" are usually the bits that create really special moments.

In Conversation: Renée Anne Louprette

Your upcoming performance at the Church of St. Ignatius Loyola will celebrate one of two new solo recordings you have recently completed: Une voix française | A French voice. Can you tell me about the 20th-century French masterworks that you chose for this recording and what speaks to you about the repertoire?

I have been attracted to 20th-century French organ music for many years now, and I had the good fortune to pursue that interest by studying and living in France, in the southern region of Toulouse where many historic, well-preserved organs remain to this day. I have been drawn especially to the music of Louis Vierne, the blind organist who served at Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris. This album features a suite of six Fantasy Pieces by Vierne (concluding with his famous Toccata). There are also featured works by two female French organist-composers: Jeanne Demessieux and Nadia Boulanger. The program is rounded out by some fascinating pieces by Jacques Ibert, Jehan Alain, and André Isoir – an important proponent of the French organ tradition who taught a number of my own teachers. Isoir passed away in 2016, shortly before this recording was made.

When preparing a record like Une voix française, what kind of timeline are you on? For example, how much time goes into the programming of the album and then how long do you allow yourself for working on the repertoire before you begin recording?

This is a program that developed over a period of, I would say, about six or seven years. I really wanted to feature repertoire close to my heart that would also closely match the style of the Mander instrument, music that I had performed for a number of years, so that the interpretations would feel organic, well paced, and expressive in an individual way – reflective of the years I spent with French instruments. I am really pleased with the arc of the program and the ebb and flow of pieces throughout the album. I hope listeners will also enjoy and appreciate the program as a cohesive whole.

In terms of preparation, what are the similarities and differences in readying yourself to record rather than perform a recital? Does your process need to change significantly for the former?

In one sense, I suppose, recording presents less risk, because one always has the option of editing, especially when working with an excellent producer and engineer. But on the other hand, one can take risks in a public recital performance knowing that those risks will not be set in stone. I have found it essential to perform repertoire many times in public recitals, ideally over a period of a few years, before endeavoring to record those works. In reality, the pressure is indeed much higher when recording. Key decisions need to be made about the interpretations that will be put forth. And the recording process itself requires a much higher level of concentration and stamina than even the most demanding public recital.

The N.P. Mander Pipe Organ that resides at St Ignatius Loyola is an incredibly special instrument, situated in a world-renowned acoustical space. What is your relationship with the organ, particularly having lived with it through your time as Associate Director of Music? And why was it your first choice when planning to record your albums released this year?

Although the instrument was built by the British firm Mander Organs, the concept of the instrument is French. The tonal colors and voicing of the instrument are especially suited to symphonic and 20th-century French music. A critical element in the sound of French organ music is the acoustic. In particular, the works by Louis Vierne, conceived in the vast space of Notre Dame in Paris, demand a resonant acoustic for the pieces to truly make sense. The Church of St. Ignatius Loyola building is indeed a splendid acoustical space, and working in that space for six years helped me build upon what I learned from performing in vast acoustics while in France. One has to play the building, to listen to the decay of sound after a release of a chord before starting the next phrase. Clarity of gesture can be achieved in a vast acoustic if one is sensitive to the way the sound travels in the building.

Going to the beginning of your time as an organist, how did you initially get involved with the instrument? What attracted you to the sound?

I began studying the organ when I was 20 years old, as an undergraduate piano performance major. A new course was being offered for pianists to learn the organ, and a friend roped me into taking the class. Fortunately for me, the instructor, Larry Allen, was a demanding and inspiring teacher as well as a brilliant performer. After two semesters I was hooked and immediately began to work as an organist in churches. I grew up attending a Catholic church weekly with my family in upstate New York, and there was a rather fine organist who played for Mass there as well as a real pipe organ in the church. Once I began studies of the instrument in college, memories of hearing an organ played well during my childhood came back, and I was surprised to discover a deep, personal connection to the sound.

Was there a particular moment that you recall as being pivotal in deciding that you wished to pursue a career in the classical music world?

I started studying the piano at the age of four, and from that point music was always a central focus of my life. I would say there were a number of critical moments as well as critical mentors for me throughout my development that assured me that I would have some role to fill in the musical profession. I am fortunate to have experienced many interesting career opportunities from which I learned a great deal, sometimes under tremendous pressure, but never enough to have discouraged me from continuing on and exploring new musical adventures.

As well as being a recitalist and accompanist, you are a teacher currently working as University Organist and Coordinator of the Organ Department at Mason Gross School of the Arts at Rutgers University. As a teacher, what is your philosophy around preparing instrumentalists for a sound career within the industry? Are there skills aside from technique and musicality that are of utmost importance to develop while studying?

It is a tremendous joy for me to work with young musicians, especially students who are brand new to the pipe organ, and to see them develop into artists with individual voices. I especially relish the opportunity to work with beginning organ students and to set them on the right technical path from the start. Working as an organist or choral director in churches – a promising career path for keyboardists – demands a multitude of skills as well as professional maturity. In the organ class at Rutgers, we all strive – both students and faculty – to set an example to others by being supportive team players and embracing a wide variety of career opportunities by thinking outside of the box. It is essential for classical musicians nowadays to use their creativity and explore new territory within the profession. It is especially important for organists to always welcome newcomers to the instrument.

For young students across the world currently preparing for examination and readying themselves to begin their careers, do you have any words of advice for performing at your best under a highly pressured situation?

I would encourage young artists to make the very most of the preparatory experience by never taking for granted any step of the learning process. A musician’s full depth of musical expression must be invested in every step of the practice process. Only then can the final result be anticipated and fully prepared for. Then one can feel liberated to deliver the communicative power of music in live performance. Focusing entirely on the expressive potency of the music can turn even the most pressurized performance situation into an intimate and meaningful experience for both the audience and performer.

In Conversation: The King's Singers (Jonathan Howard)

Firstly, congratulations on the album! The tour that you are about to embark on is extremely exciting your fans across the world and will be, I imagine, a great way to share the works you prepared for the recording. Can you tell me about the differences between spending time on pieces in the studio and taking them on tour for live audiences?

There are three key differences between rehearsing in private and making a recording, and performing live in a concert. The first is that - as we’re an unamplified group and therefore have to rely on the acoustics our venues have to carry any sounds we make - we need to adapt to any concert space we’re in. In drier acoustics, what you sing might be crystal clear at any speed, although there’ll be little or no reverberance, whereas in a boomier space, the sound might sound fuller but there’s a chance any more intricate, faster passages can get lost in the echo. That balance needs to be juggled really carefully. The second is that we need to think about whole performances of pieces. We tend not to sing a whole piece through every time we want to work on a small point within it in a rehearsal, and when we record, we’ll record in bitesize chunks, to allow us to focus on particular passages. But concerts obviously involve performing pieces in their entirety, so we really need to think about the shape of every piece as a whole. The final - and undoubtedly most important - thing is that concerts have a live audience who respond to what and how you’re singing. When you’re rehearsing or recording you’re usually performing for yourself. In concert, you need to think about all the things that an help you communicate in the most meaningful way with your audience. We’re talking about body language, facial expressions, holding the silence after a piece is finished, that sort of thing. After all, what’s the point of coming to a concert rather than listening to a recording at home if you’re not going to get something extra?

When you hit the road for a major tour, do you have any tried and tested tips for looking after yourselves and each other, both physically and mentally? How do you ensure you’re performing at your peak everywhere you go?

Our touring schedule is so intense that things do occasionally go wrong. People get a bit sick or miss home. But the most important things we can do is make sure we’re looking out for each other. Are we giving each other enough time to sleep? Are we thinking about everyone else’s needs? We’re such great friends, but we’re also six quite different people. Some of the guys love to chill out in their hotel rooms in order to decompress. I, on the other hand, always want to get outside and find a coffee shop to sit in and watch the world go by. We’re all happiest when we allow each other to do the things that make us individually happy, rather than the whole group being forced to do everything in the same way.

With every new release, The King’s Singers reimagine a capella for new audiences while honouring the great tradition of the form. How important is striking a balance between the old and the new in your programming?

Balancing old and new is everything in our programming. There's an amazing history of choral music all over the world, but we’re determined to show that it doesn’t get consigned to museums, as it’s still so vibrant and dynamic in the present day. But incorporating old and new doesn’t always have to refer to just old music and new music in the same concert. Sometimes presenting something ancient in an unexpected, progressive way can feel really modern, too. The whole point with innovation is not to keep innovating in the same way. Then it’s just repetition - and that’s dull.

What was the process like in choosing the songs you performed on Gold? I imagine that was a mammoth task, before you had even began learning and rehearsing the repertoire!

Gold was such a fun project because it deliberately wanted to reflect the past and present, as well as giving a flavour of what’s to come in the future. There’s music from the last 500 years, and King’s Singers arrangements and commissions from all the way across the last 50. With so much music to choose between, we wanted to create three CDs that were each beautiful, musical journeys in their own right, rather than just a compilation of music that’s been flung together. As a consequence, there’s likely to be music that even our most loyal fans won’t have known in there - which is absolutely what we wanted!

Education is an important part of The King’s Singers work, both in performance and through specialized programs like your Summer School and Foundation. Why does music education strike such a chord with you as an ensemble and how does it influence the way you program your concerts?

Singing is such a powerful way to bring people together, and because nothing’s stopping anyone from singing - there are no barriers to entry like having to be able to afford to buy an instrument - the possibilities for coming together to sing different kinds of music are endless. We’ll do anything we can to unite people through something they love doing, at a time in our world when it can feel like people are trying to push us apart.

Having been established in 1968, each current member of The King’s Singers joined a pre-existing group. Considering this, what are the group’s thoughts on joining an already established ensemble and ensuring you blend without getting lost, not only as a musician but more broadly in terms of your individual creative voices?

That’s a really good question. Because there are only six of us, and because our membership changes so slowly, we like to think that we can celebrate the individual without Brand King’s Singers becoming muddied. I think it would be harder if there were more of us, or if we each stayed in the group for less time, as our fans would get confused. But we want to showcase everyone’s personalities, as that hopefully shows that we’re real people with real loves and interests, rather than a group of performing robots. In terms of our individual creative voices, one thing that’s lovely about us is that we’re all equal partners in the group. There’s no one musical director, no group leader. From the moment anyone joins this group, they have one sixth of a say in group decisions. And that’s fundamental for making everyone feel like they have ownership over the direction of the group - and therefore their own lives too!

How fundamental has each member’s prior classical training been to finding a holistic ensemble voice? Has that knowledge helped in working on music that crosses ‘genre boundaries’, like that which is featured on Gold?

What’s great is that everyone has their own strengths, and although there are similarities in how we’ve learned to sing and the sort of groups we’ve sung in, there are also key differences. We speak different languages, listen to different kinds of music in our spare time, read different books, wear different clothes and eat different foods. I do think we’re really good at looking to each other to lead in the areas where we each have particular knowledge or expertise. Because we're a group where we revel in musical and creative diversity, allowing each of these perspectives to be heard is critical for us to make sure we don’t get stuck in a rut, doing things that are predictable or repetitive. In my head, The King’s Singers would die if we only ever did things as we’ve always done them.

Finally, when you’re not rehearsing or working on other important tasks, where can we find The King’s Singers during your downtime?

Ha! I think you’d get six very different answers if you asked everyone. Some of the guys want to spend as much time at home as possible. They have their families waiting for them back in England when they return from tour, and they want to sit in front of the fire with a lovely home-cooked meal and be in each other’s company. For me, I’m very rarely still. Being in The King’s Singers has given me an extraordinary travel bug, so I’m away as often as I am home during our downtime - and this year I’ve managed to set aside some time in New York, LA, Sydney, Berlin, Tel Aviv, Paris, my parents’ place in Oxfordshire and our family home in the south of France, as well as being in my own home in East London (to give you a sense of my restlessness). When I am in London, though, I worry that I've turned into a bit of an awful millennial cliche: I try to keep fit with daily spin classes, spend a lot of time working from coffee shops, and I go see as many shows, films, concerts and talks as I can. But real treat is sitting in my favourite local restaurant for hours on end, invariably eating too many of the delicious things on their menu and doing a cryptic crossword. I know all the staff and it feels like I’m spending time with family. That’s heaven to me.

In Conversation: Chris Howlett

The 3MBS Marathon is an absolutely epic event that pulls together some of Australia's finest local musicians over one day while celebrating the work of a singular composer - this year, the incomparable Johann Sebastian Bach. Can you tell me about the process of picking a composer and what drew you to Bach's output for the 2018 Marathon?

It is true, it is a huge event and a real statement for what can be achieved by a small number of dedicated staff, many volunteers and a very generous collection of Australian musicians. Bringing together the marathon this year, I wanted to connect in the concept of legacy. 3MBS has an amazing legacy supporting the community and sharing our passion for Melbourne classical music to those that are listening now, as well as those who will be listening in the future; a topic we discuss regularly at Board Meetings. Over 200 years, the Bach family had 50 professional artists including composers, performers and painters. There are very few families that have created such a profound legacy as the Bach's.

How did you first get involved in 3MBS, where you are now the Chair of the Board, and why is independent radio so important to you?

The first connection was during high school when I came to 3MBS in year 10 for work experience. It was the middle of Radiothon and I spent the week stuffing envelopes! My next contact was during the years at University when Yarra Trio/Melbourne Piano Trio began to perform on the radio; working on 3MBS was such an important element and a huge learning curve. It was vital for us to have this support so that we could build up our subscription series and start our career. The way 3MBS supports musicians is the reason I donate my time to the organisation, and is an enormous part of its value and position in the Melbourne musical landscape.

Any kind of cultural event is a sum of its (many!) moving parts and takes an absolute village to put together. As the artistic director of this exciting event, what is your role in the Marathon and how far in advance do you have to start working before the big day finally rolls around?

We start in March of each year with my proposal to the board regarding the next composer and the confirmation of dates and venues. I then try to have the program set by July with all the program notes and biographies completed, which enables the marketing team to begin their planning. This year, I have been quite hands on as we have been without a General Manager for the last 4 months, and my position of Chairman meant I needed to step up in that sense. We have a fantastic team at 3MBS and we have all worked closely together to put together what will be out biggest marathon yet.

Once you've put your wishlist of artists and repertoire together, how do you piece together the day, from both a musical and operational perspective?

Bringing the program and repertoire together is a very fluid event and often takessome UN-esque diplomacy as there are always favourite works that many artists want to play!

Does your approach to programming stay consistent across the many festivals and performances you put together, or does it change depending on the structure of the event? Thinking generally, what makes a good program for you?

I try and make sure that each of the three festivals that I program have a very different feel - they also have individual comprehensive briefs which enables this. The one element that stays consistent however is the need to have a strong and intriguing mixture of well known works and hidden gems. It is this balance that I think makes for great programming.

Can you tell me what drew you to artistic direction and whether your performance career has impacted on the way you approach the craft?

It is an honour and responsibility to bring together artists and works for an event. My personal interest stemmed from starting the trio and learning how to balance a concert and subscription series. It has since grown to include the Sanguine Estate Music Festival which I work on with Howard Penny, Music in the Round at Abbotsford Convent and, of course, the 3MBS Marathon.

For young musicians starting to put their own concerts together, do you have any words of advice about structuring a program?

There are two main elements, I believe:

Firstly, find the balance between the well-known and the interesting - this enables you to capture a bigger market. Some patrons will want to hear classics like Mendelssohn Piano Trio in D minor and you'll be able to delight a new audience with some lesser known gems like Novák Piano Trio No 1.

Secondly, find your own style and build your program/brand around this - there are a lot of concerts in Melbourne and you need to find your own voice.

In Conversation: Sarah Ampil

For the newly formed Apollo Opera Collective, you will be performing the role of Ginevra in Handel's Ariodante. Can you tell me a little about the role and what your preparation has looked like so far?

Ginevra is the princess of Scotland and love interest of the protagonist, Ariodante. She and Ariodante have been given the King’s blessing to be wed however, Ginevra is also pursued by Polinesso, the Duke of Albany, who devises a scheme to sabotage the impending nuptials and take Ginevra - and the throne - for himself. Preparing the role has been a welcome challenge - I get a little sick of the “damsel in distress” trope that permeates many operatic works, so it’s been refreshing to explore how Ginevra shows strength, conviction and grace in the face of her condemnation. It’s also been fascinating to explore the opera through a 21st century lens, and to delve into how these characters and their circumstances might still resonate with modern audiences. It’s been a joy collaborating with this group of passionate artists who are looking to increase the visibility of opera in Sydney. After almost two months of dedicated music and staging calls (and countless hours of individual coaching and private practice) we’re looking forward to sharing our work with audiences when we open on 9 February.

When getting a new role ready, how do you balance learning the part musically while preparing the character? Do these two things work hand in hand or does one need to happen before the other can begin?

Ideally, I believe that musical and dramatic preparation should be inextricable as one ought to inform the other. As a young singer still consolidating various aspects of my technique, I will usually start with a read-through of the score to determine which sections might need extra attention from a technical perspective. Often I will phonate through the notes on the page without words to make sure the line is secure before adding dramatic context, pacing and inflexion. I refer to the libretto like a script and draw out as much information on the character and their circumstances as possible, before exploring other resources to fully flesh out the role. Acting never came naturally to me so I try to be armed with as much context and information as possible before stepping into a staging call. As I add roles to my portfolio, I find the process shifting a little bit, as experience will dictate where I might need to dedicate more focus. While preparing Ginevra, I've also benefitted greatly from the guidance of various historically informed specialists, from consulting with our conductor and AOC Artistic Director Keiren Brandt-Sawdy, to cast workshops on declamatory Italian recitative. There’s something very raw about the emotions in Handel’s music that really come to life when properly executed in the baroque style.

In preparing your character for the stage, what work do you need to do outside of your musical studies to feel ready to portray the often complex operatic roles?

Language and stagecraft have to be two of the most important weapons in an opera singer’s arsenal. I’ve always loved learning languages, and understanding the shape and pacing of a recitative or aria is essential to feel connected to the character’s motivations. Some of our cast members undertook stage combat training to ensure their characters read convincingly on stage in a particularly physical scene. Apart from these, I’m beginning to really appreciate the importance of time and resource management. Rehearsal schedules can be gruelling, particularly during production week, and rehearsals involve much more repetition than performances. While preparing for this role, I’ve started figuring out how to better pace myself through the rehearsal period to ensure that I don’t peak too early and can give it my all in front of a live audience. Everyone operates a little differently, so it’s important to offer developing artists these opportunities to figure out what works best for them in a safe environment before branching out into professional work.

I often speak with singers about the difference between performing in the context of an opera and on stage in recital - how does your preparation differ between the two and do you find that your operatic experience has influenced the way you perform in a concert setting?

I certainly wish I’d started exploring the role-learning process much earlier, if only to sooner understand the importance of context in building a scene, especially on the recital platform. A seasoned recitalist, lieder duo or chamber ensemble can create the same detail or evoke similar emotions in the miniature by applying the same dedicated research process to an excerpt of an opera or song cycle. I love the collaborative aspect of putting together a fully-staged role, and have certainly tried to implement parts of this process in my preparation of recitals and concerts. If I am presenting a concert of assorted repertoire underscored by a certain theme, I may take some liberties with the drama or music to highlight particular elements that might not be as prominent in the source material - again, context is key. Some major differences for me are energy and focus in the space; it’s fairly common to find yourself immersed in an operatic role when you’ve got costumes and a little adrenaline in your system, but it’s so rewarding to be able to transport an audience out of the recital hall or parlour setting and into your mind’s eye without the mise-en-scène. The onus falls on the audience to participate more actively in the music, and often the shared experience is all the richer for it.

You have won a number of prestigious awards for your singing; how do you prepare to compete? Do you have a pre-stage process that you stick by, or does it change depending on the performance?

For my own peace of mind, I try to treat competitions as the means to an end as opposed to the goal itself. Performing for a competition panel is a great simulation audition - a skill that all singers will need to polish and review throughout their careers. I try to treat these panels like any other job interview: I evaluate if the opportunities offered are appropriate for me at that point in my development, just as the panel try to determine if each singer is suitable for the available prizes. Eisteddfods and competitions offering cash prizes can be unpredictable beasts, because pitting singers against one another directly opposes the collaborative nature of the art form. They’re a great opportunity to try out new repertoire and practice managing performance anxiety, but any wins or prizes are just a bonus. I haven’t attempted an eisteddfod or public competition since my last major role debut, so I will have to wait and see if that experience has affected my preparation process. I can only imagine that the more immersed you become in the process (as with learning a role), the easier it is to conquer the self-talk and self-criticism that can burden developing artists. That said, I certainly think there is a place for competitions in the industry, because they also promote the profile of classical performance by showcasing some incredible feats of athleticism by young performers - I think it’s important that we redefine these processes as an opportunity to promote the art form, not just individual artists.

For developing singers hoping to pursue a freelance career, what non-musical skills do you think are imperative to develop early on?

I think it’s very important to develop a healthy attitude to constructive criticism early on. While coaching sessions and rehearsals should be safe environments in which to try out new things, these are still vulnerable spaces for young performers and it can be difficult not to take things personally. This also means listening with a discerning ear and sticking to your convictions - many people will offer unwelcome opinions or ill-informed technical advice, and young singers need to know how to deal with these moments with grace under fire.

Finally, the Apollo Opera Collective is an exciting newcomer to the Baroque music scene. Why is it so important to support organisations like AOC and other small companies, as a singer but also as an audience member?

Around the world, opera houses are faced with the challenges of creating vibrant and innovative productions to appeal to increasingly discerning audiences. Larger opera companies are often tentative to take risks with repertoire, especially with high production costs at stake. Grass-roots companies such as the Apollo Opera Collective cater to this gap in the Australian musical landscape by offering exciting, rarely-performed operas at a fraction of the cost to the audience member. These productions also showcase the work of young up-and-coming singers, conductors, directors and other creatives - the next generation of the industry. Well-established performing arts companies rely on organisations like the AOC for their longevity. Similarly, as a singer, opportunities with companies like AOC assist with promoting and preserving the art form, and help to dispel the notion of opera as inaccessible and irrelevant.

In Conversation: Fung Lam

You juggle two huge jobs – being a composer while also working as the Director of Artistic Planning for the Hong Kong Philharmonic.

The job of Director of Artistic Planning has been something I’ve been actively interested in for over fifteen years! I’m really passionate about orchestral music and including contemporary programming in a traditional setting, so working in artistic planning seemed like a good fit. Hong Kong is my hometown as well, so it is very special to work with the Philharmonic. When I was completing my masters, I was planning on working in artistic administration; I wasn’t going to be a performer or an instrumentalist, and it is very difficult to make a full-time career out of composition, particularly straight out of study. I started to gather work experience at festivals and arts centers, while continuing to pursue composing. I spent a few years working with Boosey and Hawkes, looking after commissions, which was an interesting insight into the industry. It gave me a very solid base of knowledge and a lay of the land, I suppose. I was concurrently trying to get my music out into the world, studying for my PhD while working full time, and I had no plans when I suddenly got a phone call from the BBC commissioning me for a 20-minute orchestral work to be performed at the Proms. Honestly, I would have been blown away with a 5-minute solo piano commission, so that was exciting. I had worked with them a few years before, through a young composer opportunity and it was great to work with them again for the Proms.

So, they already knew your aesthetic?

They did, and I think that commission really kickstarted my career. A year before the commission occurred, I did a magazine interview where they asked what my dream commission would be, and in three seconds flat, I’d said BBC Proms. It’s always been a special concert for me – I remember being 11 or 12 when I went for the first time and it left such a huge impression. The performance was from the European Union Youth and the theatre was completely packed, and there I was in my restricted view seat! So, it was really exciting to be included as a composer all those years later. By the time the Proms opportunity came around, I had been living in the UK for 17 years, so it felt like time for a change. I ended up moving back to Hong Kong and became composer in residence for the Philharmonic and took up a position as part time lecturer. So really, before I started in Artistic Planning, I had basically just been composing for a decade.

How did you decide which commissions to take during those years?

I tried to find bigger commissions, therefore working on fewer larger pieces every year. Quality was my number one priority - I wanted to write pieces that I would be proud of 20 years on. I wanted to spend more time on less compositions, I suppose. Of course, I did some other things during that time – teaching and arranging – but composing was still my main job until this one came along!

Which was the job you wanted!

Exactly. Somehow, I got it. I think it was partly because I already had a great relationship with the orchestra and Jaap van Zweden, the Philharmonic’s artistic director. Our relationship was purely professional, we never chatted about anything but music, but he was fantastic to work with. He is very supportive and expects and wants me to continue composing.

How do you balance both?

Honestly, I don’t know! For a few months when I first took the job, I only wrote three notes! The beginning is the trickiest time; everything is time consuming because you’re just settling in. Now I know my way around better, and understand how things work, so it’s about time management.

I imagine the work you did at Boosey and Hawkes while you were studying brought up similar challenges?

Yes, absolutely – there was always so much happening. In artistic planning, I think it is similar – there are so many things taking place at the same time. It’s all about coordination – of people, of opinions – and making sure everything works for everyone!

Does having such an intimate knowledge of the personnel help when you’re working on compositions for the orchestra?

It helps a lot. I think I can be a little more experimental, and workshop things relatively comfortably, because of my relationship with the ensemble. I think it’s also great looking at it the other way – because the players knew me when I started working in artistic planning. When you’re a composer that has been commissioned by a large ensemble, you don’t have the luxury of time, and you usually work with the players for a week, attend the performance, take your bow and then disappear. It’s really nice to have a pre-existing relationship in place. I suppose now I just can’t program my own music! Of course, this is something that we spoke about at the beginning and if the board or management wanted to commission one of my works they would do so directly, so I wouldn’t have to negotiate with myself.

I’m sure you would be a very harsh negotiator with yourself.

Of course, I would try to bring the price down! But in all seriousness, I’m incredibly lucky to work with such talented and supportive people.

We’ve spoken a lot about how difficult it is to make a living from composition, and I wonder what other skills young composers should be trying to develop while they’re at university to help prepare themselves?

Firstly, I think when you are at university you have a great opportunity to experiment and there should not be any pressure to write in any particular style. You should always write what you honestly want to write, but many people feel that they should write in a certain style that either pleases the teacher or the examiner. I rarely entered any composition competitions because of that. Experiment with creative ideas, then try and create opportunities with your friends. I think it is okay to write things for your colleagues to play, particularly as you’re building your portfolio, but make sure those pieces stay true to your central musical identity. I think that’s really important.

You also spent time concentrating on developing your artistic administration skills – has that helped your career as a composer, overall?

I absolutely think arts administration is something that all composers or musicians should have basic knowledge of, because until you get the job you’re after, you’re going to have to look after yourself. It’s always very useful to know a bit about how agreements work so you can negotiate your own contracts and commissions – it helps you protect yourself. Any kind of industry knowledge will help along the way, that’s for certain. Even if you don’t really want to work in an administrative environment, at least get to know how the industry works. It makes you more realistic about what kind of path your career might take. You learn how important self-promotion is, and how to do that tactfully, because if you don’t write to people and introduce yourself, who is going to come and find you? I think it’s really easy to forget that no one is actually going to come and knock on your door if they don’t know where you live.

And learning from your mistakes will help, right?

You can learn from all things, but I think you learn the most from bad compositions – yours and others. I think you should always be listening, and not just to music by composers you’re a mega fan of. Try and identify what you like and dislike about things you hear and why. I think it’s also crucial that you listen to music that sits outside of the classical world. I listen to all sorts of rock and post-rock bands. I love Radiohead! I am interested in music that is innovative. I also try and remind people that nationalism shouldn’t block your view of the composition world. My music does not specifically represent my Chinese heritage. I think it’s great to explore that, but I don’t think you should feel any pressure to sound like other composers from your country. Music is more about music than it is about nationality. And when you think like that, you invite everyone to listen.

In Conversation: Anthony Marwood

Let’s jump straight in and talk a little about career development. When you’re a young artist in training, where many of your hours are spent refining your technique and doing exercises and working on precision, how do you begin to create your own musical personality; your own creative conscious?

I wouldn’t separate out the question of technique and precision from the creative and musical because, in my opinion, the two do have to work in a good relationship. If you do spend all of your time focussing on precision and technique though, for me at least, I find that that leads ultimately to some kind of dead end where the preoccupation is in the technical and you kind of lose sight of what it is you actually want and need to be doing… the joyful interpretation, living, and embodying of music. I mean, of course, there are certain things that need to be analysed and focused upon but at a certain point, I think it is necessary to let go of all that and trust that the precision will work. It is like The Inner Game of Tennis. As soon as one is focused on the right thing, it is amazing what can happen - both artistically and technically.

So how do you strike a balance while you’re developing?

For young musicians working through tertiary studies, the whole purpose, I would imagine, is this sort of glorious possibility of immersing yourself wholeheartedly in the practice. In a way, the greatest challenge always arrives once the formal training comes to an end - it is the question of how you make the transition away from an institution. I remember that period being very uncomfortable for me, and I think it is for a lot of people. Naturally, one has to start looking at what the options are and be aware of how the time you have goes by very quickly and then suddenly you’re out in the big world and the answer is that there are no concrete answers! I’m a great believer in being open to whatever opportunities come, and as part of that philosophy, I don’t think one can force things to happen that aren’t ready to happen. One does have to have a certain faith in the process and if your work has integrity, you have to believe that will lead you where you need to be, however serendipitous. That was certainly my experience - certain things came to me that I wasn’t necessarily looking for just because I was in a certain place doing what I was doing. I think one can waste a lot of energy worrying, not just at that point but honestly, at all points along the way. There are a number of times when I find myself worrying about a particular situation and a month later I realise what a complete waste of energy that was. It’s funny sometimes that when you have a certain fixed idea about what it is you are after and then it doesn’t work out, something else that you hadn’t thought of comes to you and you have to be open enough to read those signals. I think this is a good way of living generally, actually. You just read the signs and remain in an open-hearted place from which you can see, be and receive.

Did having an awareness and an openness to unexpected possibilities help you get through some of that discomfort moving from a tertiary institution into the “real world”?

Yes, I think it did. I think I was lucky, but then, of course, you could say that luck comes to you when you’re most ready to receive it. For me, the journey started off very gently by meeting certain people and by sitting next to certain players I was completely in awe of. I was always wanting to improve; I was less skillful at playing the game of career building, so I just worked on being a better player. The opportunities that I missed out on when I was in my early twenties I possibly was not ready for, but when I did start to receive things later I was in a much better place to accept them. I think it’s really a game of trial and error and one makes mistakes but the great thing is to be able to learn from every situation. To expect everything to work out perfectly… you have to just discard that because life doesn’t work out that way. It’s a process of learning and at a certain point once things are underway you can embrace certain teachings and discard others, but being able to take something away from all situations good and bad is a great gift to develop.

And I suppose the more that you try things and they don’t work out the better you get at climbing back on the horse. Has that had a major impact on what you’re doing now?

I absolutely think so, because every success or failure adds to a picture that builds gradually. This whole soloist/director part of my career is case in point - it began quite coincidentally about twelve years ago, through invitations from The Academy of Saint Martin in the Fields and the Australian Chamber Orchestra. I had to figure things out relatively quickly! If you throw yourself into the opportunities though, your experiences start to fill in and your confidence grows. Working with the students at ANAM has been part of that development for me because working there has given me space and time to discover things and explore ideas. I mean, not many violinists have been able to direct four Beethoven symphonies and a violin concerto! It’s not just the students who are presented with great opportunities there, it is me too!

How much of your chamber music experience has been translated into the way you lead ensembles?

This is a very good question. I would say a considerable amount. I think chamber musicians have to develop a way of interacting and being able to encourage and give criticism to each other in a way that is not hostile but constructive. This involves a certain generosity and sensitivity, as well as a certain command of language; skills that you don’t necessarily learn in other musical situations. I suppose it gets a little more amplified when you have a lot of people in front of you, but nevertheless, the chamber music skills of listening and communicating are completely key. I think its one of the reasons I enjoy it so much because it combines different sets of skills; being the soloist, being the conductor, and being the colleague.

How do you prepare for that kind of role?

It is all about going to the score and trying the music with refreshed eyes and ears. It is amazing how you think you know a score, but then you go back to it and see many things that you missed. When we are talking about a musical masterpiece … well, that is rather exhilarating because you’re never “done” with the score.

And when you’re working with people who might be experiencing these masterpieces for the first time bring a new energy?

It certainly can. One of the requirements of being a good leader I think is having your own very clear interpretations but also leaving room for the surprising things that might come your way during the rehearsal process. Performing with other people is a two-way street that requires a very open dialogue. Of course, you can’t take on every single idea but you should always be open to incorporating or modifying if the opportunity arises.

You’ve mentioned quite a few of the skills, particularly those pertaining to communication, that are not always taught at school, and I wonder what you would like to see being developed in more young artists?

I have a great love of going back to the score like an actor would, to delve deeply into the “text”, if you will. So I would like to see a little more enthusiasm to do that kind of work, I suppose. It is very easy to be the kind of instrumentalist who gets a certain immediate gratification by picking up the instrument and reassuring oneself that it is all working fine and that’s enough, but I think that it is the people who are also fascinated by the material that bring the most to performance. Also, knowing how to speak to people is so important, both inside and out of the rehearsal room. I’ve seen conductors speak to orchestras in a way that is entirely inappropriate and they don’t get the result. One of the conductors that I have certainly very much admired is Nikolaus Harnoncourt, who was just completely stunning in the way he used imagery to ignite the imagination of the players in front of him. So rather than him saying “this needs to be louder”, he would invoke some sort of fantastic imagery which would inspire the players to use their own imagination to produce the result. I don’t know if that’s something you can be taught, but I do think it’s incredibly important.

When you are out the front of the orchestra, performing as a soloist, do you bring those chamber skills to the way you communicate both forward to the audience and back to the orchestra?

We work on this so much - the mental switch between watching and listening. All of a sudden the players don’t have that visual impulse, so it is important to find other ways of using your body language to communicate backward. It is one of the many reasons I like the entire ensemble to stand - the signals are much more powerful that way. And that is a large part of our work; sharpening the chamber music reactions. My friend Steven Isserlis always says everything is chamber music and I couldn’t agree more. Whether it's a concerto, a symphony, a string quartet - it’s all about listening, its all about reacting, it’s all about connection, and that is the most profound truth.

In Conversation: Belinda Davies

Your winning performance for BBC ONE’s Even Better than the Real Thing was incredible. What made you decide to audition for The Greatest Love of All? What can you tell us about the show?

A friend submitted me to the producer last minute. I’ve sung professionally since I was 14 but at the time I was in a lull as far as singing went and then this popped up and I can’t help thinking it was just meant to be. I knew how much I wanted it by how terribly nervous I was, even as a professional singer who has sung – and been compared to - Whitney my whole life!

How do you get ready for the show? In your preparation, what is the difference between performing Whitney Houston's songs and actually performing as Whitney Houston? Do you have to approach your preparation differently?

I worked day and night and absorbed EVERYTHING Whitney when I first prepared for this role. I had to learn every little natural hand gesture and head movement that was Whitney-esque, on top of emulating her voice and vocal traits. Now it is the act of putting on the makeup and wig and costuming that takes me to that place, it’s like a trigger or cue that puts me in Whitney mode.

What influence did Whitney Houston have in your musical life and aspirations, and what do you think her music and story can offer young performers, in particular?

Here was a woman who broke ground and was inspirational in becoming as pervasive and popular and successful as she was, particularly for women of colour. And this is on top of her actual god given talent as a singer. She can inspire in so many ways, but the biggest thing is that she is proof that anything is possible.

How has your perspective on music and music-making changed after being involved so intensely in The Greatest Love of All for the past four years?

For a show like this it is all about the team. There are so many people around me that make this show what it is and allow me to focus on putting out my best performances. And also if you sing what you love it’s a true joy, a blessing to be able to work in this industry.

Many of our readers are young musicians on the cusp of their careers. What advice can you offer them as they forge their own musical paths?

It’s clichéd but just don’t give up. There will be struggle – I guarantee it! – but you need to focus and forge through. No one who’s successful will ever turn around and say ‘oh it was a breeze’, they say ‘I ate beans for a year and I lived out of my car and never got any sleep and everyone doubted me’ because it’s true, but IT DIDN’T STOP THEM!

In Conversation: Molly Collier-O'Boyle

Next week you’ll be giving your first viola recital for a Sound Bite concert at ANAM. Can you tell us a little about the journey that has led you here?

This has been my first year studying viola as my major instrument and I am indeed very excited to be putting on my first viola recital at ANAM this week. Up until this point, I had predominantly been a violinist (bar some dabbling with the electric jazz bass in high school) and during my Bachelor of Music in 2013, I picked up a viola to learn for chamber and orchestral situations. Over the next few years, whilst finishing my Bachelor and then going on to do my Graduate Diploma in performance on violin, I kept auditioning for projects on both violin and viola. It turned out that I was getting better results on viola in most cases and I was enjoying exploring the instrument, so this year I thought I would give it a shot as my main focus. I was lucky enough to be taken in by ANAM to do a part-time year studying viola, while being able to freelance around the country, participate in a wide variety of AYO programs and keep up playing the violin when I can.

What were your programmatic priorities in putting this recital together and how did you go about researching and choosing the pieces you'll be performing?

My good friend and fellow ANAM colleague Liam Wooding was kind enough to agree to be my recital partner for this Sound Bite. He really loves the Brahms clarinet sonatas so, of course, I had to program one in! My mentor Caroline Henbest then invited me to give the premiere of Stuart Greenbaum's Viola & Piano Sonata, and to top that off, I thought I would like to incorporate some chamber music, so I chucked the Kodaly Intermezzo for String Trio into the mix. I think all three pieces have fantastic folk elements to them, which is a genre I am particularly passionate about!

You've performed as both associate and principal viola for Australian Youth Orchestra; leadership roles that require more than just technical aptitude. What have your experiences in AYO taught you about musical leadership?

My experiences with AYO this year have been absolutely life-changing. I really owe it to organisations like AYO and ANAM for guiding me onto the path of the beautiful bratsche this year - without these opportunities I don't think I would have pursued this wonderfully underestimated instrument. Having done many AYO programs previously as tutti violin and viola, it was a very different experience being put into the position of a leading a section. These projects allowed me to work on my skills as a principal player at a high level surrounded by many of my lovely classical musician friends, which was both daunting and very special.

As well as studying and performing as a soloist and orchestral musician, you also work in several chamber ensembles. Can you tell me about your current projects and how your work in small ensembles has influenced your overall musical values?

Over the last few years, I have been in a variety of chamber music ensembles, from student-led groups to more professional chamber organisations such as Queensland's Chamber Orchestra - Camerata. Over this year, I have had the opportunity to play chamber music with a fantastic quartet at the AYO Chamber Player's program, performed as part of the Play On Collective at the Collingwood Arts Precinct and most recently, worked in a wide variety of groups at ANAM for recitals and competitions. Currently, I am in the process of brainstorming chamber music ideas for next year; I've recently started a duo with Madi Chwasta (percussion star and journalist extraordinaire) called MC2, as well as beginning conversations with other colleagues about starting an ensemble where we the performers are writing and performing our own music. Stay tuned!

Whilst living and studying in Brisbane, you curated and organized the arts event series 'Paint it Red'. What did this process teach you about event organization and programming?

Curating Paint it Red gave me so much invaluable knowledge about how to actually run music events; from finances and advertising to administration and people skills and additionally, the ability to solve problems as quickly as possible! I met so many fantastic visual artists and chamber musicians through running this series and learnt how to run a successful Pozible campaign so I could pay everyone involved (how neat is that?!). It taught me so much about programming and how to fit ensembles playing different genres into one evening of carefully curated music. I hope to do more event organisation in Melbourne next year.

Finally, when you're not listening to the pieces you're preparing to perform, what's on your playlist?

I must confess, I am the absolute worst listener of classical music at the best of times. My playlist includes all time favourites from D'Angelo, J Dilla, Nujaves, Earth Wind and Fire, The East Pointers, Sex on Toast, the Danish String Quartet, Daft Punk, Breakout, Andrew Bird, Esperanza Spalding, Nickel Creek and The Punch Brothers, to name a few. Perhaps I should have stuck with the bass guitar after all!

In Conversation: Deborah Cheetham AO

Alongside Plexus, you will be performing an arrangement of Richard Strauss' Four Last Songs - a moving cycle written just a year before the composer's death. Can you tell me about your relationship with the work and the intimate nature of Cassomenos' rendition for chamber ensemble and soprano?

Strauss had a great love of the soprano voice; his wife and lifelong companion Pauline inspired and premiered many of his compositions. Sadly, Strauss did not live to hear these songs performed. For me, The Four Last songs represent the pinnacle of art song. Stefan Cassomenos has captured the essence of Strauss' glistening score and distilled it to an intensely intimate chamber performance for six musicians, voice included. It takes a great deal of musicianship to deliver the rhythmic and harmonic fluidity Strauss intended and I like to think we perform this arrangement as a true ensemble rather than a work for soloist with quintet accompaniment.

The songs, which deal with universal and timeless concepts, carry as much poignancy today as they did at their premiere in 1950. Is the secret to opera and lied's longevity found in the fact that much of the subject matter the genre deals with has not changed over time?

The poetry is certainly timeless. Even if in the 21st century few of us have the space in our lives to contemplate the world in the way Hermann Hesse and Joseph von Eichendorff managed in Früling, September, Beim Schlafengehen and Im Abendrot.

Why do you think opera matters today, particularly in our current political and social climate?

Opera will always matter as long as it remains true to its raison d'être - storytelling, amplified and intensified through music. Opera thrives when it is performed, directed and produced by those who have dedicated themselves to the study of the art form. Of course, opera is expensive to produce. So are postal surveys. We are not the only generation to experience political upheaval, revolutions in the way we conduct our lives and a sense of the pulse of life quickening. We must support our artists and leaders in the world of opera to be courageous and not quite so risk-averse.

As a singer and a composer, why do you think it is important that new operas continue to be written and championed? Do you have words of advice for developing composers interested in exploring the world of classical song?

It is vital that new operas continue to be written, otherwise, what is our legacy to be? We cannot leave behind the legacy of 18th and 19th century and even 20th-century composers. We have a wonderful opportunity as well as serious obligation to tell our own stories and opera is the ideal medium. As opera represents the culmination of all the arts, it presents composers with a wonderful opportunity for collaboration in a profession which can be a rather solitary pursuit at times.

For young singers looking to forge a career on the operatic stage, what words of advice would you offer in regard to making a mark in what is often a highly competitive playing field?

Immerse yourself in every aspect of the art form. Travel abroad and extend your knowledge in every way you can. Form a partnership with an experienced and capable accompanist.

If you had the opportunity to go back to the beginning of your career and give yourself a piece of advice about working in the classical music industry, what would you say?

I am happy and content with the path I have chosen. It has been richly rewarding in so many ways. If I met my younger self I would give a knowing wink and a smile and say toi toi.

In Conversation: Andrew Blanch

You recently returned to the Melbourne International Guitar Festival as a past winner of the major competition. Can you tell us about your competition experiences as a classical guitarist and the value of performing in this environment?

On the whole, my experience with competitions has been really positive – and that includes all the ones where I walked without any ‘prize’ per say. It sounds cliché, but I think competitions are what you make of them. The best piece of advice I received about competitions was to enter to win. The implication being that you will turn up on the day with many, many months of consistent and intelligent preparation. When you give it your all in this way it becomes more about how much you can get out of yourself and how much you can improve rather than the external measurement of what any jury happens to think of your playing.

The only caveat I would add - for classical guitarists in particular – is not to get tunnel vision. Bela Bartok famously said competitions are for horses, not artists… I’m not sure they’re for horses either, but setting that to one side I couldn’t agree with the sentiment more. For some inexplicable reason, competitions have become ubiquitous in the classical guitar world, and for this reason, they seem to occupy an undue amount of space in the ambitions of young guitarists. I think if your main musical aspirations are to win competitions you’re going to have a bad time. Commonsense stuff really, excluding certain exceptional circumstances, if you’re going to do them, they should really be one smallish part of your overall musical activities. They’re no substitute for a good teacher, a Bachelor or Masters degree, playing chamber music with others, reading and learning as much as you can about music and so on.

As well as performing, you also give masterclasses for young guitarists, offering them your insights into performance, collaboration and touring. In your experience, what makes a great master class?

It’s really hard to put it into only a few words. I think at the heart of a great master class is a great teacher, and I think we all recognize a great teacher when we see one in action. Psychologically a masterclass is a bit of a dangerous situation for the student, and the teacher really needs to approach that situation with respect. I’ve seen ‘maestros’ tear down nervous young musicians doing their best in masterclasses and I find that absolutely appalling.

One small general observation is, I think students, and teachers perhaps as well, frequently attribute errors in fluency and so on to this thing we call ‘technique’. I find errors in fluency are more often than we realize just symptoms of an underlying lack of musical clarity and understanding around things such as rhythm, style, melody, harmony, the role of different voices in a texture and so on. Often the best masterclasses I see, are when a student realizes how much more they’re capable of once they understand some important fundamental aspect of the piece they’re working on.

Your debut CD, Spanish Guitar Music, has been incredibly popular amongst listeners and critics. Could you tell me about programming the disc and what the recording process looked like?

The general purpose behind my programming choice was to provide a mixture of old favourites with some lesser-known gems, packaged in a way that would have broad appeal. We have a bit of a joke in my family that often gets told - I sent around a group email asking everyone for a CD title. Everyone sent back a mixture of lovely suggestions such as: Portraits of Spain, Impressions of Spain, A Spanish Journey, Reflections of Spain, Evocation – all in some way at least a little creative and imaginative. Several months later I reply to everyone thanking them for their suggestions before saying I’ve decided to title the CD ‘Spanish Guitar Music’. Fast-forward a little while, and among the very first reviews comes back from David Hurwitz in New York for Classics Today giving the CD 9/10 and specifically noting how much he appreciated the plain title:

“The disc promises “Spanish Guitar Music,” and that is just what we get: guitar music by Spanish composers or inspired by Spanish subjects. No stupid titles (“Moonlight Over Seville,” “My Spanish Soul,” “Impresiones Místicas”), no pretension, no pseudo-profundity or foolishness: just good music.”

Thank goodness I didn’t go with any of those stupid titles suggested by dear family members!

As far as the recording process went, we recorded it in three nights from 11pm to about 3am, finishing in the wee hours of Christmas Eve! Far from ideal, but we had the studio for free, on the condition we wait until the building shut down and could turn the noisy air conditioner off… There were a few times we had to stop for about half an hour or so for the midnight cicadas to quieten down. We also ran short of time; the CD was supposed to be three tracks longer with a few preludes by Francisco Tarrega. Extremely grateful to have had Timothy Kain so kindly sit in on the sessions, coaching me through it, particularly at Christmas time – peak family time no less!

Having performed in performances both around Australia and overseas in Europe, America and the United Kingdom, what have you learnt about creating a balanced freelance performance career, particularly when you spend so much time on the road?

I don’t think I’m the person to answer this question, balance is not really a word in my vocabulary! It’s incredible what some people manage to achieve in their time considering we all have the same amount of hours in the day. There’s a book called Daily Rituals by Mason Currey that looks at the time management of many ‘greats’ of different fields: artists, writers, scientists, politicians etc. Recommended reading if you’re interested in this sort of stuff! Some writers have been mind-bogglingly productive with only a few hours dedicated to writing each day.

That’s got to be one of the great challenges of this career, you want space and peace around you to think and reflect and make meaningful music. But at the same time, there’s this constant humdrum of chores to do and emails to answer. I’m slowly learning some little tricks that work for me. When I have a monster of emails piled up, I’ll go to a café to work and order a nice big coffee as motivation. I also practice outside quite a lot. I find it easier to have a clear head when I’m practising outside. Sometimes if I’m inside all day, when I pick up the guitar I can’t stop thinking about other things I have to do, and then I’m not thinking about the practice I’m doing.

For young guitarists getting started in the classical music industry, what advice do you have about forging a freelance creative career? Is there anything about your work now that you wish you’d known when you were getting started?

There’s nothing at this stage I wish I knew that I didn’t already know. I was fortunate that some older musicians gave me plenty of forewarning that you need to do a lot more than just play well to succeed. I was recommended a couple books in my undergraduate that were as good a starting point as any, Beyond Talent by Angela Beeching and the Savvy Musican by David Cutler.

We’ve heard you have some exciting projects coming up for the rest of 2017 – can you tell us where else can we hear you live for the rest of the year?

Well at this point not much left for 2017, a few concerts here and there – including on Kangaroo Island! The most exciting thing still to come this year must be my recital at the Sydney Opera House in the Utzon Room on Friday 17th November. Tickets are sold out I’m afraid, although if you’re really keen you can try booking on the actual day – there may be a handful of tickets that become available. Other than that, plenty of playing on the books for next year, mostly chamber stuff. Sydney-siders can catch me in March next year in a concert at the Independent Theatre in North Sydney, with Ariel Nurhadi and Jose Carbo, performing our own arrangements for two guitars and voice of traditional classical vocal repertoire. In that month as well the Willoughby Symphony Orchestra are doing Nigel Westlake’s Antarctica Suite for guitar and orchestra, and I’m really fortunate to be playing the guitar part with Nigel at the conductor’s helm. Not quite this year I’m afraid, but that’s the best I could do!

In Conversation: Bernadette Harvey

Your newest work, The Sonata Project, looks at your love for the solo piano recital and your passion for Australian composers. How did the concept come to you and what are you hoping to achieve through its performance?

My love of the sonata is both an ongoing a research project and a collaboration. By offering contemporary composers my skills as an interpreter and partner in the creation of new, substantial solo works for piano, I feel really immersed in the rebirth and continued evolution of the form!

My is it important that all instrumentalists champion local composers? When did this become part of your practice and what have some of your commissioning highlights been so far in the development of The Sonata Project?

I’m passionate on this point! My role is to choose composers who I think would be prepared to take on the challenge, those early on in their careers who have the ambition and can use it as a springboard of sorts, especially women composers who are under-represented. I really feel that for Australian artists playing on the world stage, engaging with and enriching our own musical life is both an obligation and a privilege.

How important are the non-musical aspects of your performances: the space, the clothes you wear, the lighting, etc.? Where in the process do you begin to think about these things: is it from the beginning, or once the music has already been planned?

The ‘multi-sensory’ aspect has been integral to the project’s concept from the beginning! In endeavouring to forge new ways to engage 21st century classical music audiences, the Sonata Project’s staging has incorporated fashion, art and interior design to recreate the frisson and opulence that once surrounded the performances of legendary Romantic musicians inside 19th century salons. Celebrating a departure from the more rigid style of traditional performances of recent decades, I’ll be dressed in whimsical designs by cult Australian fashion label, Romance Was Born, with a sensory utopia interior designed by Lynne Bradley (a former fellow student at the Sydney Conservatorium of Music). Her decadent stage décor is very deliberately calculated to provoke emotive responses that evolve with each of the sonatas. Uniquely crafted furniture and innovative props, compelling floral arrangements and immersive abstract paintings by Lara Merrett will also adorn the stage. Franz Liszt: eat your heart out!

Performing new works and collaborating with exciting composers and designers seems to be a priority of yours - can you tell me about where this interest came from and what about working with other artists sparks your imagination?

The project is built on the triangulation of form, composer and performer. The form offers to the project the gravitas of its identity, its history and longevity, its restrictions and its freedoms. Its narrative nature is built on conflict and resolution, contrast and unity. But the Romantics went much further in their salons: it wasn’t just about passive audience members in the dark. There was much to thrill the senses. To truly create an immersive experience involves collaboration across art-forms: to absorb and reflect many layers of sensory and aesthetic stimuli. I’m very excited about the result!

Tell me about your rehearsal style - what does an average day look like for you in the lead up to a new project opening? How do you find the motivation to keep practising when you’re busy with all the other tasks that are required to put on a performance?

Having a support team upon whom you can rely for emotional and practical support is the most important element in pulling off a successful performance. I couldn't stage a performance like this, with four new contemporary works in the one program, without this help. I have a routine of exercise, diet and practice which I follow pretty much all year, but it becomes even more tightly regulated a couple of weeks out from the concert. I try to shed all other commitments as much as I can and talk less. I like quiet, and I can come across to some as a little aloof. I do a lot of slow and thoughtful work at the keyboard and a lot of inner listening away from it.

What do you wish you’d known about practising when you were starting out as a piano student?

Developing a practice routine is a very personal thing. It's a long and continuing process of self-awareness. There is an over-supply of advice on the issue in my opinion. There's nothing I wish I'd known or wish I'd been told at any particular point in my life about practising and I'm still discovering for myself new ways of doing things. I've been blessed with remarkable teachers and surrounded by the most gifted of performers, all of whom have taught me something but really, the buck stops with me!

It is coming up to examination time around Australia and students are now busily preparing for recitals, concertos and technical exams. Do you have any words of advice for young musicians getting ready for this often nerve-wracking time?

Slow practice! Have a firm idea of what you want to achieve musically, and don't listen too much to the advice of friends. Stay focused.

Creating a career in the music industry is no easy task and often takes a lot of skills outside of performance and technique. What have been some of the most important tools you’ve picked up that have been valuable in developing, staging and performing this project?

Staging my own performance is very difficult and not something I do often. It requires enormous amounts of time, money and energy which the artistic goal must transcend. For me, there has to be a strong reason why. If this is firmly in my mind, then other things fall into place relatively easily.

In Conversation: Cecelia Bruggemeyer

We are so excited that the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment is coming on tour to Australia. What repertoire are you looking forward to in this tour program?

We’re so excited to be coming to Australia - it’s been too long since our last visit! I’m looking forward to everything that we'll be playing, and particularly to working with the fabulous Rachel Podger again. We have collaborated with her many times before and she has an infectious energy in her playing that draws you in and keeps you dancing. If I had to pick one piece it would be Mozart's A Major Violin Concerto.

What inspired you to pursue period performance?

As a student at the Royal Academy of Music in London, I auditioned for the Baroque orchestras hoping to get some inspiration of what to do with all the repetitive quavers in basslines. I found plenty of answers and discovered that I loved the attitude I found amongst the directors and colleagues: the questioning about why we were choosing to play the way we were, and the approach to phrasing, which I think probably chimed strongly with me because of my years singing Latin mass in our amateur church choir as a child. I find it a particular joy to find a continuo section sound with cello and keyboard colleagues in baroque repertoire. And I fell in love with the sound of the old instruments and the way they blend and complement each other in a totally different balance to modern orchestras.

What advice can you give to musicians who are interested in learning more about HIP and perhaps pursuing it themselves?

If you want to learn more about HIP a great place to start is a book ‘Baroque String Playing for Ingenious Learners’ by Judy Tarling. She introduces a wide range of topics with a CD of examples and ideas of further reading. If you’re more of a listener than a reader, find CDs of period orchestras and immerse yourself in their sound. Go and see them in concert when you can and look them up on YouTube!

My main advice is 'keep questioning’! That’s where the HIP movement started - by players questioning and rebelling against the norm. See what evidence you can find and what conclusions it leads you to. Challenge those of us that have been part of the 'establishment' for a while. Bring us new thoughts on what you've discovered. That will keep HIP alive. That said, if you are wanting employment and some income, then you also need to be aware of the discoveries and choices that have been made so far, so that you can fit in with the ensembles who might have work to offer.

So: read, listen, go and grab experiences, and experiment.

Tell us about the three and a half basses you own! Which one is coming along to Australia, and what is special about it?

Well, it's now FOUR and a half!! Luckily I have a patient husband who is a percussionist with many more instruments than I will ever own!

What I call 'the half' is my G violone - a fretted instrument with 6 strings. It's much smaller than my double basses and plays at cello 8ft pitch rather than double bass 16ft pitch. Its range is from the G below the bass clef stave (the G below the cello bottom string) so there is the facility to play quite a lot down the octave if a 16ft texture is desired. I used it recently for Bach’s Brandenburg 6 for which it felt perfect.

The latest addition is a modern copy of a Thier which I have had converted to an 18th Century Viennese set up: a fretted instrument with 5 strings tuned basically to a D major chord including a D major triad on the top 3 strings. This is the sort of instrument Haydn's solos in Le Matin, Midi, and Soir symphonies were written for, and it makes so much more sense of the Viennese concertos by the likes of Dittersdorf and Vanhal, which exploit the triad so much of the time

I still have my first bass bought when I was 17. It's a German 19th Century flatback which I hardly ever play anymore, but haven't quite brought myself to part with yet.

The bass I'll be playing on this tour is an 18th Century English bass thought to be a Hill. It has a very distinctive shape with narrow shoulders and a relatively wide bottom and a beautiful golden colour. I tend to use it for classical repertoire and later.

And last but not least is my oldest instrument - a 17th Century Italian bass (Brescia). It looks like it's from the ark and has seen many repairs over the years, but retains a great sound that is full of warmth and character. I have it strung with 4 plain uncovered strings and tend to keep it at baroque pitch for the earlier rep we play.

How do you prepare yourself (and your instruments) for a tour, and what do you do to keep yourself in optimum playing condition over the course of a long tour?

Preparing my bass for this tour has been quite time-consuming as the airlines have imposed a really strict weight limit on us, which is about 10kg less than my bass’s usual touring weight. So how do you put a bass on a diet?!

Various avenues of research put me in touch with an Australian bass shop that sells extra light flight cases, and I'm incredibly grateful to an Australian colleague, Jacqui Dosser, who brought mine back to the UK for me. It took some extra work to then find and cut bits of lightweight foam to pack around the gaps left by the fact that my bass isn't a standard shape - that narrow top and wide bottom again! Then there was the business of trying to label the case to make it totally and unequivocally clear to baggage handlers which way up to stand it.

And then to me. My physique means I tend to be susceptible to back problems so I have been particularly careful to make sure I have been to either an Alexander Technique lesson or a Pilates class at least once a week for the last 6 weeks, especially before a tour that starts with the longest of long-haul flights. I have a range of exercises that I can do on my own to keep me balanced and flexible throughout the tour, and I’ll sometimes be seen doing a quick march around a car park or an airport to get myself moving if I’ve had to sit too long. I also find some mindfulness and breathing techniques really helpful in managing not just the physical, but the mental strains of being on tour too. It’s great fun touring but the lack of autonomy and the disruption to normal life can take some adjusting to.

Finally, many of our readers are young musicians with burgeoning careers. What advice do you have for getting a career started in music?

I’d say seize all the opportunities that come your way. You never know who you might find yourself working with and how one thing might lead to another.

Respond quickly to messages and requests, preferably with a definite answer, but if you can’t it’s better to say something like ‘Thank you for your message. I can’t answer now but may I get back to you by…?’ than to not reply for ages.

Be reliable. Turn up when you said you would, and be on time.

Be prepared. Look at the music in advance. Find out what you can about the group or situation.

Be nice! Appreciate other people’s hard work and effort.

Be flexible. Yes, go for the dream, but be prepared to move the goal posts, or to notice the totally new playing field you hadn’t previously known existed. It’s what has led to me being on my way to Australia this week!

In Conversation: Slava Grigoryan

Today we celebrate the launch of your brand new Bach album, which appears following widespread critical acclaim of its earlier counterpart. Can you tell me about the recording sessions for this second volume - did they feel different to working on the first?

It was a very similar process to recording Volume 1. I was lucky to be working with the same engineer and producer (Alex Stinson and Shaun Rigney), so it really felt like we’d just had a short break and were back in the same room with the same equipment. Volume 1 was actually the first recording session that took place in UKARIA so there were a few surprises to deal with. This time around we were totally prepared!

What is it about Bach’s writing that captures you and inspired the recording project? When did you first think to play his works on your own instrument and further to that, why does his writing speak so well on the guitar?

To me, Bach’s writing is absolutely full of mysteries, excitement and incredibly sensitive beauty. As a guitarist, I grew up playing the existing repertoire that we have to draw upon - the lute suites, some of the violin partitas etc. It was only when I first held a baritone guitar in my hands that I thought of arranging the cello suites in the original keys, something that wouldn’t be possible on regular classical guitar due to it’s range. The baritone is much larger and has a very long sustain with a deeper, more resonant sound. It’s a much better instrument for delving into cello repertoire. Though I honestly think that Bach’s music works brilliantly on any instrument that can play it!

You recorded in the stunning UKARIA Cultural Centre in the Adelaide Hills this September. What inspired you about the location and how did you prepare for the four intensive days of playing?

I was very fortunate to have performed at the UKARIA Cultural Centre a number of times before the first recording. The acoustics are astounding and to be amongst such breathtaking scenery when you’re there really makes this one of the jewels amongst concert venues anywhere in the world. Everything about it is inspiring! The preparation for this recording was very drawn out because this music had to be arranged first. Luckily for me, my wife Sharon is a wonderful cellist who knows this repertoire backwards. She helped tremendously with editing and advice.

Having won many awards throughout your career (including this year’s ARIA Award for Best Classical Album - huge congratulations from the Rehearsal team!), what are your thoughts on the influence competitions have on a musicians career, if indeed they have any? Do you think participating in competitions is an integral part of development for young musicians?

I’ve been very fortunate to have won some awards over the years but in actual fact I was never successful in competitions. I think they’re wonderful in terms of motivation and focus for young players - the stress of preparing, dealing with nerves and being surrounded by better players can be a great inspiration. They can help a career of course but there have been countless examples of where they haven't! Being one’s own best judge is ultimately what it’s all about. Musicians shouldn’t let unsuccessful competitions prevent them from going forward just as much as they shouldn’t get complacent after receiving any kind of honours.

You often work as a duo with your brother Leonard Grigoryan - can you tell me about the beginnings of your musical partnership and what you’ve learned about ensemble work from playing together?

Lenny and I have played together since he was four years old. Professionally, we’ve been giving concerts as a duo for almost 20 years. We’ve spent so much time together, communicating through music and without it. It’s very hard for me to imagine a better musical partner. We don’t plan on slowing down together so I hope that the process of learning about each other and the music we share will continue teaching us about ensemble playing well into the future.

For young guitarists hoping to build solo careers, what advice do you have for standing out from the crowd? Is there anything you wish you’d known when you were getting started?

The best advice I could give a young guitarist is to listen and absorb as much ‘non guitar’ music as possible. Listen to great pianists and string quartets, the great orchestras playing the great repertoire the great singers etc etc. As guitarists, we’re terribly unfortunate in that the truly great composers, (aside from Bach) didn’t write for our instrument. We don’t have Beethoven sonatas or Mozart concertos or Brahms symphonies (the list goes on and on) to sink our teeth into. And yet, so much of our understanding of western classical music comes from the legacy left behind by such great minds. Our understanding of phrasing, voice leading, use of colour, comes from this font of knowledge but sadly this incredible resource is usually not high on the list of priorities for young guitarists.

In Conversation: Rohan Disley

You are currently a guitar student at the University of Western Australia, which boasts one of Australia’s most active guitar programs. Where are you up to in your studies and how did you get involved in the ensemble?

I'm in my fourth year of music studies and I'm just about to complete my honours. As soon as I entered UWA, I've been part of the ensemble as chamber music has been my largest passion since starting my formal studies.

The UWA guitar ensemble’s tour to Melbourne will see you perform a variety of works, from Baroque to contemporary. Can you tell me about the importance of performing a broad array of music and how this particular program reflects the scope of works the group is interested in?

I think guitarists today have the greatest opportunity to perform whatever they want. We now have a huge range of repertoire to perform; from baroque transcriptions to classical and Romantic works, compositions from the Spanish sound world as well as modernist and postmodernist pieces. I think if we didn't perform a wide variety of music, we would be letting down historical performers and composers who utilised this music to elevate the guitar to a notable status in the classical sphere.

Why the guitar? What initially interested you in the instrument, and what inspired you to make it your career?

I initially was a big fan of the Wiggles as a kid and my middle name is Murray, so ever since I was a little tacker I wanted to play tguitar. I come from the Margret River Wine region, so there weren't many opportunities to study classical music in a rural tourist town, so I played contemporary guitar for ages. I met my first classical guitar teacher in a recording studio when I wrote a song for the Australian Children's Music Foundation at 13 years old. I decided to learn classical initially to push my technical ability and ended up stuck with it! I've always wanted to be a musician for my career as I just never could imagine myself in an office job or doing a trade; music is the thing that manages to capture my full attention, so it was only natural that I turned to that for my career.

We’re coming up to exam time now - how do you keep a good balance between working on all the different music you have to prepare and perform?

Practice journals are your best friend! I recommend everybody gets into the habit of keeping a practice journal as you can mark your progress a lot easier and see how you are dividing your time so much more clearly. Also, create your own performance opportunities and make sure you're always performing different repertoire. Performance is the greatest motivation to make sure your pieces are 100% ready!

For young guitar students hoping to pursue their craft at a Conservatorium next year, what advice do you have for making the most of your study time?

Have fun and participate in everything. Make your own opportunities. There are people desperate to make music they're career and they haven't been given the opportunity, so work hard to keep that opportunity present because it may not last forever. Also, make as many friends as you can for your general happiness and play for as many people as you can. You never know who might be able to provide a favour for you down the track.

In Conversation: Emma Pearson

You will be performing the title role in Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor for West Australian Opera later in the month - a role you have already performed to acclaim in Wiesbaden. Lucia goes through so much in the space of just three hours and the opera is famous for the character’s incredible “mad scene” which is complex both musically and dramatically. Can you tell me about how you prepared for the role both in terms of character development and musical note learning?

The first time I performed a very modern interpretation of the opera, which was great in a way to strip back conventional performance practices and discover as much as I could about “Lucy Ashton”. I think it’s helpful to look up information on the life of the composer and the first woman to sing the role. For me, the question has always been how realistic her mental problems are: if I could show someone shifting from manic behaviour to deep depression, or if we should stick to the gothic, 18th century fear of the unknown, really seeing ghosts and dying from lunacy. I started watching “A Handmaid’s Tale” recently and there was the first example of a character who was traumatised so often she descended into madness as a survival mechanism. “Janine” has been my inspiration this time. I also found Sir Walter Scott’s novel, "The Bride of Lammermoor", incredibly enlightening.

This opera is a masterpiece in that every note Donizetti has written is chosen to tweak emotional responses from the audiences, pushing the drama in a similar way to later composers, Verdi and Wagner. Often his harmonies and runs take a long time to learn with their unpredictable twists! In the months leading up to stage rehearsals in 2012, I started working with a bel canto specialist at ROH Covent Garden and more recently, have worked with the Italian repetiteur at Opernhaus Zuerich, as well as American tenor William Johns, Opera Australia’s Italian opera specialist, Nicole Dorigo, and my singing coach, David Harper.

How did you work on and choose your cadenzas for the renowned “mad scene”? Can you explain the tradition of sopranos “adding” to this aria and who inspired you in your own personal decisions?

The cadenza was first added for our Nellie Melba, I believe. Her singing teacher Mathilde Marchesi wanted to showcase her incredible vocal ability with an extended cadenza in the 1880s. The great Ricordi publication of the score doesn’t come with a cadenza, you have to research and create something that suits your voice and the instrument performing with you (either glass harmonica or flute.) I love the eerie sound that the glass harmonica makes, but a flute can move a lot faster and make a very exciting addition to the scene. The first time I performed the aria, my singing teacher David Harper wrote a cadenza that suited me; a mixture of Luigi Ricci’s “Variations, Cadenzas and Traditions”, “The Art of Joan Sutherland” and “Variantes et Points d’Orgue pour les Principaux Airs Du Repertoire par Mathilde Marchesi”.

Performing a role like this takes incredible stamina physically and vocally. When you are gearing up to sing this kind of opera, do you change anything about your day to day practice routine?

Bel canto technique is the safest style of singing for the voice but it does take an enormous amount of bracing and strength in the body to support the sound and the vocal acrobatics. My main focus in the lead up to the beginning of staging rehearsals is to strip away bad habits which tire out the voice; to sing without ego and without too much emotion in the voice. I find it really hard to go through Lucia’s journey and often I find it hard to snap out of her daze or sadness between breaks. The way she is betrayed by the people she loves is horrific.

Alongside your opera commitments, you frequently perform in concert around Australia and internationally. How do you manage your time and ensure that you’re striking a balance between work and family whilst still learning all the music?

It was difficult for me at first because I find it hard to hyperfocus on hard tasks unless the due date is looming! Being a parent for the first time is a steep learning curve. I’m learning now how to enjoy sticking to a slow learning programme to be ready ahead of schedule. My husband Wade and I make sure we both have ample time to study every day. We have wonderful support from our parents with babysitting while we’re on tour.

You were a principal artist at the Hessisches Staatstheater in Wiesbaden, Germany for nine years, performing many title roles. How did working in Europe for this time influence how you approached the industry and learning music, and do you think performing overseas is an integral part of the development process for young Australian musicians?

There are many benefits to singing major roles in smaller European houses. Major houses will not accept you for main roles until you have proven you can sing the role consistently with a good orchestra. You become so used to the pressure of singing, using your stagecraft and working with orchestras that you reach a higher level of professionalism than you can when freelancing. I’m not sure if performing overseas is integral for Australians, but certainly working with coaches and role preparation in Europe and the USA is critical for Australian singers of all ages. Styles and tastes change every decade and we must keep up with them.

When you have some downtime to listen to any music you like, which recordings do you find yourself coming back to again and again - classical or otherwise?

I like most kinds of music! At the moment though, I love listening to bel canto arias sung by Ileana Cotrubas and Mariella Devia. Rufus Wainwright’s “Zebulon” is probably the most played song in my music library.

For young singers at the start of their operatic journeys, what advice do you have for building a successful career? Is there anything you wish you’d known at the beginning of your own?

Firstly, I wish I had studied German in high school or university. I studied Italian and French, but I should’ve added German! It is so important to learn grammar while your mind is still spongey. You can try to learn on your own, but nothing beats a proper course, followed by full language immersion. Secondly, please do not spend a lot of money on a European audition tour before you have worked with European opera coaches. And lastly, the best way to start an international career is by getting into the semi-finals or finals of international singing competitions before you turn 30, or young artist programs in opera houses and summer festivals. Toi toi toi!!

In Conversation: Anna Pokorny

For the first performance of Ensemble Sacamano, you’ll be performing two greats of chamber repertoire: Mozart’s String Quintet in G minor and Brahms’ String Sextet in B Flat Major. Can you tell me about the programming of this particular performance - how you chose these two pieces and what you think they say about the ensemble's overall ethos?

Firstly, it’s just an absolute pleasure for us to be able to rehearse and perform these pieces. We’ve also chosen the repertoire to appeal to a broad audience. The beauty of joining the concert and the charity together means that hopefully some music lovers will come and learn about a great local initiative, and some interested locals might discover, or rediscover, a love of chamber music.

All donations you receive on the night will go towards the Carlton Family Learning Project. What drew you to this organisation?

One of the first details we like to sort out is which charity or cause we'll be raising money for, so we decided to ask our gorgeous venue The Church of All Nations (CAN) whether they worked closely with any charities. The Family Learning Project was suggested as a great community initiative that could always do with more "love and support". The program gives children (often from non-English speaking families) a chance to get their homework done with volunteer tutors and teachers. There are over 90 students registered from twelve different schools and the program runs three days a week.

Starting an ensemble takes a lot more than planning repertoire and rehearsing the music - there is a myriad of smaller tasks that go on behind the scenes! What have been some of the biggest challenges of launching Ensemble Sacamano and organising your first performance?

Our first concert together as a sextet was in April this year, so we had our first taste of what it takes to put on a concert then. I think once we decided to move to a group with a name, things became a little more complex. People start throwing around words like ‘target audience’ and ‘brand’ and ‘marketing strategy’. It’s all necessary – and it’s actually good to look at your industry from that perspective. The most time-consuming thing for me has been getting my head around creating websites, social media and blogs. There are a lot of great free resources out there, so it’s just a case of trial and error for finding the platform that works best for you.

Everyone in Ensemble Sacamano performs regularly in orchestras as well as chamber groups. How does your orchestral experience influence the way you work together?

I think everyone that works in an orchestra values efficiency. For this chamber music project, that probably translates into a well-prepared part and clear language in rehearsal.

Do you have any words of advice for young musicians looking to start their own chamber initiatives?

I would say just go for it, surround yourself with musicians you respect and don’t take yourself too seriously.

In Conversation: Kane Alexander

Were you classically trained as a singer before you studied at the Victorian College of the Arts? What made you decide to venture into musical theatre and drama?

I started training classically when I was 11. My teacher expected a boy soprano but I was actually a baritone at 11 years of age. Around that time, I got involved in theatre and developed a passion for acting and storytelling through song. So, opera and music theatre were inevitable genres to explore.

How do you juggle performing in a range of different musical styles?

I’ve always had varying musical tastes, especially jazz, opera and pop. I love using my voice in different ways to produce different sounds. I believe that musical style is every bit as important as musical technique, and each style has different demands.

How do you manage your time when you have various performances on the go?

I’m big on preparation, which takes up a lot more time than the performance itself. Learning the repertoire, singing it into the voice, exploring dramatic context in the writing - all this is important to be able to tell the story effectively.

You have also appeared as an actor on a number of different television programs! What skills that you have from music performance have helped you in your acting career, and vice versa? Why do you think musicians should (or shouldn't!) get involved in other performing arts?

I think as artists we should be involved in as many creative endeavours as we can, as long as we have something to express. For me, having a background in acting allows me to connect to the words more effectively as a singer. So, one creative discipline informs the other.

What similarities and differences do you see between opera, pop, and musical theatre, and what benefit do you think there is to marrying these three genres? How do you approach interdisciplinary work?

Traditionally, all three genres are very different. However, they are becoming closer stylistically in recent times. As a performer, I think it’s important to be able to be as stylistically diverse as possible, in order to obtain the most regular and exciting performance opportunities.

Many of our readers are young musicians at the beginning of their careers. What advice can you give to them for managing life as a busy performer in many different styles and around the world?!

Firstly, this is not an easy industry to work in. You need to love it - REALLY love it - in order to make it your life. Secondly, you need to be willing to work on your craft throughout your entire career. Lots of rehearsal, preparation and hard work. Thirdly, be yourself. Show people what it is about you that is unique. What’s your “thing”? Don’t copy other artists versions of songs - make them your own. Use your own unique instrument and soul to express the music and/or words in your own way. This is where the magic lies.

In Conversation: Hoang Pham

For the Melbourne Warehouse Music Festival, you'll be performing a program of Beethoven and Chopin - two of the great piano composers. Can you tell me about your relationship with the pair: how you discovered their music and what keeps you going back?

I absolutely adore the piano music of Beethoven and Chopin. With the former, I also enjoy much of his chamber music and the symphonic works. I say "much of" because it's ok to admit that one has not gotten around to everything! It takes time and fortunately during my days at college, I was able to study and experience many of the symphonies, string quartets and performed a decent segment of Beethoven's chamber music involving piano. But I think I can speak for many pianists in saying that my love for Beethoven derived at first from learning a dozen of the sonatas and performing them throughout my life. As for Chopin, his output for piano far outweighed his output in most other genres. It is impossible to develop a love of piano playing without a long-term relationship with the music of Chopin.

Getting back to Beethoven, what really attracts me to his music is the scope of his expression and compositional methods. Much of this is exemplified in the span of the 32 sonatas but specifically, the two quite revolutionary works that I'm performing at this festival (the "Pathetique" and "Moonlight"), both of these sonatas have individual qualities that are particularly special. I think I really enjoy Beethoven and Chopin because I can trace their influences back to earlier composers - there is a special lineage in the way their works develop a style that is unique to both of them but also, extremely traditional. Another composer that comes to mind is Stravinsky in this regard.

In the Pathetique Sonata, Beethoven writes a first movement that bursts the seams of classical structure, more for its dynamic piano writing and dramatic introduction than its actual structural departures. This is what I love about Beethoven. In the second movement, he looks forward to Schubert in a simple "song without words" moment. In the famous Moonlight Sonata, the impressionistic first movement textures (with a bit of a nod to Bach's Prelude in C Major in its rippling figures) both looks back to the great German masters but looks forward to Chopin and Liszt in its pianistic gestures. It is this mingling of past, present and future that I enjoy most about Beethoven - he is intellectual but extremely wild and emotional. The same things can be said about Chopin's music and in the fabulous Fantaisie-Impromptu, the wonderful coda makes it a masterpiece! Tradition and a high degree of craft fused with an unstoppable inner emotional pulse - these are the things that keep me going back to Beethoven and Chopin!

I have read that your first experiences of the piano came from your father - a pianist himself - teaching you works by Beethoven and Chopin at an electric piano. How has the music you played and listened to as a child influenced the way you work and perform today?

My father always had a big library of classical CDs and I was constantly adding to this. I remember going to shops to buy sheet music and recordings with my father frequently. These were important years of curiosity and I now encourage all my students to have this experience. In terms of listening influences, these were contained more during my time studying in the US where I heard many great performances (including lots of piano recitals) at Carnegie Hall. I was inspired by those who had the courage to work hard and to speak their heart and soul on stage. It seems obvious but the special preparation, devotion and time required to achieve this is something I value very much these days. Of course, my teachers played a big role and for this, Rita Reichman was my greatest early influence. She was like a mother figure to me and instilled in me a sense of love for music and also the profession. I'm my own musician these days but I owe a lot of my inner core, commitment and grit to her encouragement and nurturing qualities as a teacher. Another major influence was Marc Silverman, my teacher at Manhattan School of Music. From Marc, I learned the craft of playing the piano to an exceptionally high level. Marc understood piano playing to the smallest detail and I knew that the path to a greater artistic expression was the mastering of craft.

Following study at the Australian National Academy of Music, you completed a Bachelor Degree and Master of Music Degree at the prestigious Manhattan School of Music. What was the experience of studying abroad like? Would you recommend the experience to other young artists?

I very much enjoyed my time studying abroad. I spent six years at Manhattan School of Music and enjoyed my lessons with Marc Silverman, with whom I learned an incredible amount. I also spent a year at the Royal College of Music with Dmitri Alexeev who was a very inspirational teacher at a time when I was already playing quite a lot of concerts, travelling all over the place. Dmitri understood my needs exceptionally well and always respected my musical ideas. In terms of the overall experience, I think it was a very good one. I got to experience a lot of wonderful concerts and my travels brought me to many different places within the US and in parts of Europe. When you're young, you should travel and see as much of the world as possible. I- can't quantify exactly what was "good" or "bad" but the total experience of studying overseas is an exceptionally good one. Even just living away from home, being independent; that is already one good thing!

When touring and travelling a lot, how do you look after yourself physically and mentally? Do you have ways of ensuring that you’re feeling performance-ready consistently?

I try to eat healthy these days and to ensure that I'm always feeling fit. I enjoy going for walks and thinking about the music I'm preparing. Fresh air and thinking is perhaps the greatest way to spend your downtime. There is no greater time for creativity than the moments when you are bored. Why not spend it walking around and enjoying the natural world! I tend to have a bit of a nap on days where I perform in the evening. I find that this provides me with a major energy boost. I don't know if others do it but I have spoken to many musicians and the ones who have heavy performing schedules tend to favour this method.

How do you find balance when busy between performances, rehearsals and learning new notes? What are your favourite ways to unwind?

I unwind by not travelling. I know many others enjoy getting away but a holiday for me is a chance to stay still, get a bit bored and hence, start formulating ideas and being creative. I'm different in this sense but it's how I cope with the avalanche of work that is sure to come very soon after the break! I find beauty in things that have similar qualities to music and this is why I enjoy sports and I love anything to do with statistics. I present my own concerts and doing my own marketing and advertising, I find that a love of numbers is essential. I remember spending my free time as a child writing my own cricket/football scorecards. I found great beauty and mystery in being able to see how a game had unfolded, and imagining it in my mind, just by seeing a scorecard. This is very similar to how we imagine music from a score!

You’re no stranger to the competition circuit, having won several major prizes including the Young Performers Award in 2013. How has your competition experience influenced your career path?

I think it has had some influence but it is not the be all and end all. Many of my colleagues have won the same amount of awards, if not more, and for some, so many more than I have ever contemplated. But while winning competitions can make a short-term difference, developing a career where you become independent and have your own audience is another. To have the latter, you have to show that you really love what you're doing and you need to sustain your work ethic for not just a short period of time, but for years and decades. A career, especially in our modern times, is not easy, especially at the beginning and you need grit and determination in order to simply survive and take the next steps. I don't know if there is any rulebook for doing it one way or the other, but it's more about self-discovery and finding out what you really want to do. Sounds a bit philosophical but it's true! When I turned 30, I suddenly woke up one morning and asked myself, "what am I doing? Do I want to play solo recitals? Do I love it enough to be bothered to practice hard and prepare myself for each concert? What sacrifices am I willing to make and how will I go about achieving the things I want to achieve?" The hard part is doing it and that's where grit and determination come into play!

Speaking of competitions, does your method of preparation differ when rehearsing for a competition compared to say, a solo recital that you’re presenting yourself? How do you get mentally fit for being in such a stressful environment?

Being able to cope with stress is a skill that is essential, I imagine, in many industries. And I guess music performance it is yet another industry where it is crucial to find a way of dealing with it! I personally don't prepare any differently for competitions vs non-competition performances; if I have an incentive to play my best, then I will play my best.

For our young readers hoping to create careers as freelance solo artists, what advice do you have for getting started in the industry? Is there anything you wish you’d known at the beginning?

If I were to be really honest about something I'd do differently, the only thing I'd say to my younger self is to be more independent earlier. I would have presented my own concerts with more vehemency from a younger age. I would've quit university a few years earlier! I would've worked that second or third job in order to pay for the venue hire more efficiently and to invest in my own future the way I wanted to. It depends on what you want, really. Of course, my early success brought me professional management and I have certain luxuries that some others don't have. But the things I'm most proud of remain the things I did myself.

In Conversation: Sam Beagley

As the principal trumpet of the Melbourne Youth Orchestra, and having spent the last four years rising through the MYO ranks, you’ve been exposed to the orchestral canon from a young age which is so important for any classical musician. Can you tell me about your experience getting started in the orchestra and being thrown into the world of symphonic repertoire?

My first experience with MYO was playing Star Wars and that had been one of my musical dreams, so I really started on a high! I was not expecting to get in that year, so when I found out that not only did I get in but I got to start the season by playing one of my all-time favourite pieces of music, I was so overwhelmed. It was such a fun year and we had so many great things to play. There was also some standard repertoire on that program which of course helps when I play it again now, four years on. I remember that we also got to play some Hindson with two orchestras side by side and a drum kit in the middle and that was my first real experience with contemporary classical music. That was pretty cool!

Do you think those opportunities set young players up for further study and orchestral work?

Absolutely! In 2016, we were really lucky to play a full year’s worth of symphonic repertoire from the canon - Brahms, Shostakovich, Tchaikovsky, Mussorgsky - all huge pieces that come up all the time in professional orchestral programming. The opportunity to sit in the orchestra and get to know the work and rehearse it for an extended period of time is invaluable, particularly when you have to play the piece a second time or part of it appears on an excerpt list. Even if you end up playing a different part, having the opportunity to sit in the orchestra and soak it all up really makes a huge difference.

Because those big standards always become your audition pieces!

All the pieces we played last year have standard excerpts in them for all instrumentalists, and while it’s fine and useful to work on excerpts in isolation in the practice room, going into an audition knowing the context of the entire orchestration is really important.

How do you learn your excerpts?

I like to listen a lot! For trumpeters, style and sound is really important, so the more you dive into the character of the works the more you can get out of the excerpt. That’s what panels are looking for, too - how well you can characterise your playing.

Can you practice style or is that something you develop over time?

I think it’s a development thing: it’s not just something you can pick up overnight. It’s definitely something you learn by listening to other people. Being surrounded by musicians helps - you can listen to everyone around you and think about how to incorporate ideas into your own playing. For me that’s been super invaluable: just listening and watching.

From this beginning stage of your career, what have some of the biggest learnings been that have influenced the way you play in an orchestra?

I guess for me the thing I’ve learnt most is how to really listen. There’s so much more to playing in a large ensemble than having a great sound. Also, the ability to follow is really important! Not just the conductor, either; something I’ve picked up recently is learning to follow the concertmaster, because you get this immediacy of sound and you can respond really quickly if you tune into that. There’s so many little things to do with contributing to that ensemble, whether it’s listening, following or knowing when to lead as a point of interest. You can’t pick that up from playing excerpts because you’re always the most interesting voice! There’s so much to be said for supporting: that role in an orchestra is completely crucial. You can hear the best orchestras have a great idea of what’s going on around them, and which instruments have a leading voice at any given moment, while also being attuned to all the different nuances and personalities within the symphony. That level of communication is how you pick an outstanding orchestra.

Having been in MYO for 4 years and getting to know everyone that you’re playing with - has that had an effect on how the ensemble performs?

It makes a difference and it’s a good way to begin the orchestra journey. When you’re with people you’re familiar with you can almost anticipate what they’re going to do or how they’re going to breathe, so it gives you an extra millisecond of time back, I suppose, because you know what might come next. It’s been special though, growing up with the MYO family.

For young people getting started and possibly thinking about MYO as a possible next step in their orchestral journey, what would you say the real benefits are of playing in an orchestra?

There are so many benefits. For me, playing in an orchestra is more than just a musical experience, it’s also social and I have made so many amazing friends through MYO. There are also ensembles for everyone to play in regardless of where you’re at technically, which means you can work your way up as you improve as well. In a musical sense though, if music is something you’re considering as your career, getting orchestral experience is crucial. Being at MYO will help you figure out where you want to put your priorities too - you might figure out that you’d prefer to be in a concert band or a big band - and any genre you decide, it gives you a grounding. I have figured out that being in an orchestra is what I want to do with my life and MYO has been a huge part of figuring that out.

If you want to be a soloist, getting strong ensembles experience still has to be hugely important, right?

Completely, and in MYO we do get the opportunity to work with amazing soloists frequently! Their Virtuosity program that I was part of this year allows you the opportunity to play in front of the orchestra, which is completely amazing. It’s a really special opportunity to stand out the front of the orchestra, but I do I think that you can learn heaps from visiting artists about style and confidence when you’re playing as part of the orchestra.

Has the experience of performing major orchestral works with MYO influenced the way you approach smaller chamber repertoire in any way?

I really think that the skills you learn in an orchestra are really easily transferable when it comes to preparing and performing chamber repertoire. Playing solo pieces out the front is pretty different in lots of ways, but playing in a chamber group is just like playing in a smaller orchestra! You just have to focus everything down. Listening is still the most important thing - you’re part of a team - a really tight-knit chamber group - and it is such good fun when you’re listening and bouncing off each other. In big orchestral works, communication can get muddled sometimes which is why you work with a conductor, but in a chamber group it’s just you and you get to focus in.

In terms of career development, where would you ideally like to be in say, ten years?

I would really like to be playing in an orchestra! Maybe overseas, maybe here; I’m open to anything. I want to accept as many opportunities as possible and just see what happens. Honestly, I don’t mind where I am as long as I get to keep playing music.

In Conversation: Lü Siqing

You will be joining the China National Symphony Orchestra in Sydney to perform the violin concerto, The Butterfly Lovers, later this month. Can you tell me about your relationship with the piece, having recorded the work and performed it extensively?

The Butterfly Lovers Violin Concerto is without a doubt the most well known and most performed Chinese violin piece. I have performed it many times in China and in nearly 20 other countries around the world and have made five recordings of the concerto over the years. So, it gives me great pleasure to perform it for the first time in Australia! The concerto has a lot of grace and romance, but also comedy, drama and tragedy; I suppose it is something of a Chinese Romeo & Juliet story. Listeners should pay particular attention to the “flavours” of the Yue Opera from Shanghai, as well as the Chinese folk tales in the melodies. Since the concerto incorporates many techniques from different Chinese instruments you can also expect to hear a lot of different slides and bow strokes.

When you’re preparing to perform a work in front of an orchestra, how do you structure your personal practice sessions? Are there any aspects of performance that you like to rehearse alone before you begin working with the symphony?

Well, practice makes perfect! You have to practice a lot, not only for the technical aspect but more importantly to try to understand the feeling and emotions the composer wants to express in their work, before trying to convey those feelings to the audience through your own interpretation. In the end, it is what you express in your music that will connect with and touch the audience. Also, you need to have a good understanding of what the orchestra is playing so normally I will not only practice my solo part but also study the orchestral score. I feel only then that I will be able to make music with the orchestra and the other musicians together as a whole.

Having won several major international competitions, including the prestigious Paganini Competition, do you have any tried and tested methods for preparing to compete?

Preparing for a competition is quite a hard work. You have to master a lot of pieces - which takes hours and hours of practice - while paying careful attention to the technical aspect of your playing, as it is very easy for the jurors to spot little mistakes. But it is the musicality that you express that will win you the competition and help you to become a great musician in the long run - that has to be your priority.

Additionally, do you feel like competitions are an important and necessary part of a musician’s studies and career progression?

Competitions are a good way to test and reward your progress and to learn from other competitors and the panel jurors. It can also jump-start your career, but winning a competition is only the beginning and you must continue to work very hard and set high standards for yourself. For me, music is higher than anyone and anything, so I try and remember to always stay humble and to remain focused and dedicated to my craft, regardless of any successes.

As well as working as a concert soloist, you have recorded a number of CDs featuring both Western art music and works by Chinese composers. Why is championing local composers so important to your work?

Classical music in China has really flourished recently, especially in the last 10 years. We have many children learning instruments and many modern concert halls presenting first-class concerts, operas and many other kinds of performances from artists all over the world. We have also been able to produce world-class musicians that have had, and are continuing to have, great success on the world’s classical music stage. So I do think it is very important that we promote our own musicians and composers both locally and internationally. I have worked with many Chinese composers over the years including Oscar winner Tan Dun, with whom I give the world premiere of the “Hero” Violin Concerto in Poland in 2011 and the “Hero” Violin Sonata in Germany in 2016.

For our young readers, what words of advice would you share with those musicians hoping to forge a solo performance career in regard to managing within the industry and creating varied and exciting opportunities?

Love what you do and be persistent and focused. Opportunities will be afforded to those who work hard and are always ready to step up.

In Conversation: Greta Gertler Gold

Greta Gertler Gold is a Sydney-born, Brooklyn-based composer, lyricist, performer, and producer. Her latest project sees her return to Australia for a brand new musical, The Red Tree, based on Shaun Tan’s book of the same name. For this production, Greta is teaming up with playwright Hilary Bell, director Neil Gooding, actor-singer Nicola Bowman, and musicians Ben Fink and Bonnie Stewart. We were lucky enough to speak to Greta, just after her arrival in Australia, about finding your own musical voice, seeking out collaborators, and what to do when characters start emerging from your songs of their own accord …

Rehearsal Magazine: How did you start composing? Were you first classically trained, and how did you decide to move to pop and rock music, rather than classical music?

Greta Gertler Gold: I was classically trained, in piano, from the age of 6, and then studied music at Sydney Uni. I really wanted to be a classical contemporary composer in my later years of high school, then when I got to university I just started going out to hear a lot of bands around Sydney. I found that I just wanted to focus on songwriting, and that just captured my interest. So, I basically found that I wasn’t ready, at that age, to just be in a room writing music on my own. I was more social, I wanted to get out and play with other musicians.

RM: It was too solitary, to sit in a room and compose by yourself.

GGG: Yeah, at that point it hadn’t occurred to me that you could form your own classical group! I couldn’t have imagined that, at that age, and I also could barely imagine playing in a band at that age. I was pretty much the classical geek when I was in high school and then got out of high school and my world just exploded, with going to see bands and singer-songwriters, and something less formal than I’d been exposed to. But I really still treasured my formal training, it was just that I was trying to find a way to bring that into the songs that I wanted to write.

RM: I suppose it must have given you quite a good grounding to find your own style.

GGG: Yeah! I think it really did, in terms of all the practice that I did on piano, even though I wasn’t encouraged to try any improvisation or jazz or anything. I think my muscle memory of playing a lot of Bach, Beethoven, and Schubert definitely came into what I was trying to write when I was at the piano, just writing songs. But I didn’t know anything about arranging for a rock band, or how electric instruments would work with acoustic instruments, and I was really fascinated by that side of things.

RM: So what did you do then, to get those skills? When you decided that you wanted to branch out and find this new style to work in, how did you go about doing that?

GGG: Well, I just found musicians who had a similar experience with coming from a classical music background, like string players who were playing rock music, for example. I went to hear a lot of people play, and then approached the sidemen or singer-songwriters who seemed to play that sort of music. I also played in a wedding band and got experience playing keyboards in a band with drums and bass and electric guitar, and, unexpectedly, I learnt a lot from playing all these covers. I guess just getting out and playing, and listening to all different styles of music. These days, Spotify or something similar would be a good way to follow some strand of your interest and discover recordings. I was always interested in recording, as well as performing. I was probably more interested in recording because I always had stage fright and nervousness around being the leader. But when I was recording, I could try whatever, I could create sounds on my own or bring other musicians in. Putting a home recording studio together, I think, is just a great tool to have. Using whatever technology you can get for free, and then just meet other musicians and play with people. I think booking a gig and trying things out on a gig is the best impetus to learning!

RM: Because you just do it and then, whatever happens, you go “Oh well, that worked or that didn’t work…”

GGG: Yeah, I think you should work with musicians who are supportive of what you want, and who can step back from their own musical agenda and be willing to try what you want to try. You should find musicians who you really admire, who want to play with you. You might as well try things - even if you think the musicians might be too busy to play with you, it’s always going to be possible to work with musicians of all different styles and calibres. I feel like musicians are the best people in the world and the most supportive of each other, so if you haven’t been out of the institution that you’re in, finding musicians of all disciplines is going to be exciting. I was in Sydney for several years just doing all these different things, and I was pushed to try different things by other people - some people said “why don’t you try adding some beats to your music” and “maybe you should work with a dance producer”. So I did some stuff that was not in my comfort zone but I thought I might as well try it. That kind of things can really help you to figure out what you want to do. The other thing is reciprocating; it can be really rewarding to offer to play with other people and contribute to their musical vision, and it can lead to unexpected collaborations.

RM: That’s really great advice. When you started working on The Red Tree, what was the process like of creating a musical from a book that wasn’t originally written to become a show?

GGG: It was really interesting to know the visual aesthetic of the book and to work with that in mind. I’d never done that before, and that was really exciting. Shaun Tan’s work is so intricate and emotional, and I felt like he was a kind of unknowing, silent collaborator. It was nice to know we had his permission and support as we were going along, too; he listened to some of the demos and gave approval as we were working, which was very helpful. I think the strength of his artistic voice and identity forced us to be strong too, to match it. Working with Hilary [Bell] has been amazing. She’s such a fantastic writer and collaborator and was really encouraging. We’ve been working in a very intuitive way, and it’s been quite easy to find this musical version of the show, and I’m really excited about it.

RM: And has it been a long process?

GGG: We’ve been working on it since February, so about 6 months.

RM: It sounds like it’s been a really rewarding experience.

GGG: Yeah, it has been. There have been many different stages of the development. We’ve had two workshops with the actress, Nicola Bowman, and some of the musicians who are in the band. Nicola is incredible. She’s just such an amazing actor, singer, and performer, and she just embodies the character, which has made the process really effortless, in a way! Writing with her voice in mind has been liberating, and I feel like I can try anything and she’ll be able to nail it.

RM: Finally, how has your experience coming from Sydney, and now being Brooklyn-based, impacted on your sense of musical identity and place?

GGG: I’ve been in New York for a long time, and the experiences I’ve had there - particularly in music and theatre, but also just life events - has really influenced my ideas of what is possible musically. Being in New York actually led me to musical theatre, a few years ago. Before that, I was always dubious of musical theatre and its cheesiness and over the top-ness, but I realised that I had always heard musical theatre, even if I wasn’t aware of it. Musical theatre songs had definitely entered pop culture as well, even in Australia, but I hadn’t had the same access to them before as I’ve had in New York. So I started getting more interested in musical theatre when I was writing songs, and there were characters emerging from these songs and I didn’t know who they were or what to do with them, but I had an urge to write something with a narrative structure, so I knew I needed to start writing musicals!

The Red Tree is the furthest I’ve gone into the world of musical theatre, which is really exciting. I’m thrilled to be doing it in Australia with everyone here. I feel like, because I was pretty old when I moved to New York, that I’ve never really lost my Australian musical identity - you can’t lose that. My sense of place has definitely expanded, through music. Music has given me a sense of home and place, even when I’m far away from home so that wherever I am I can create a space I feel happiest in. I think without that, I wouldn’t be able to live far away. Music also gives me a way to navigate the world and connect with family, friends and community. It isn’t always the most stable work - I remember when I first started, I was doing shift work during the day and writing music at night - but I’m so grateful for it.

In Conversation: Alex Turley

You’ve written a new work for Argo's final 2017 concert based on an incredible piece of art currently residing in the Gallery of Modern Art in Brisbane. Can you tell me about the process of writing the piece and how you were inspired by the space and the art itself?

I feel incredibly lucky to have become involved with Argo this year. The concerts that Connor and his team put together are always visually stunning, immersive and engaging to be a part of, no matter your musical background. For this particular gig they asked me to write a piece for two pianos, to be situated on opposite sides of an indoor lake. The lake is currently occupied by Narcissus Garden, an installation work by Japanese artist Yayoi Kusama involving dozens of floating reflective spheres. Due to the site-specific nature of this commission, the piece basically wrote itself, as I decided to explore Kusama’s ideas in a musical context, playing with the reflection and distortion of ideas between the two pianos. The spheres actually make noise as they gently bump into one another and I’m excited for that to blend with the sound of the piece.

More broadly, how do visual arts and other creative disciplines influence and inspire your compositional practice?

I always try and associate my work with visual or ‘extramusical’ ideas, like specific images, patterns or words. I’ve found that this is the best way to communicate meaningfully with an audience, as it can give people something to hang on to as they listen, if they want it. I’m quite careful about not giving too much away though, as that can start limiting people’s experience. This particular gig is great as it involves projected visuals as well as Kusama’s artwork itself, so theres a huge opportunity for a lovely marriage between sound and visuals.

Does your creative method change at all when you’re writing a piece for a commission rather than working on your own project?

Commissions usually provide limitations, and limitations always end up being helpful for the creative process. It’s a bit daunting to stare at a blank piece of paper and be completely unrestricted with regards to what you can write. In many ways it’s much easier when someone just says ‘This is the kind of piece I want from you. Can you do it?’. And then you just do it.

How do you find a good sense of balance when you’re juggling multiple projects at the one time? Do you have any favourite ways to switch off or recharge in busy times?

Balance? I’m not familiar with that word. For the last few months I’ve been absolutely slammed with music to write and recordings to complete and repertoire to sing and songs to orchestrate, and life isn’t showing signs of slowing down any time soon. But I like working in this way; by putting heaps of pressure on myself I’m able to produce a lot of good work. Coffee helps, too.

What do you wish you’d known about the industry and the life of a practising composer when you were getting started?

That nobody will know or care how good you are until you get out into the actual world and start meeting people. And also that being friendly and forming genuine relationships with people is a lot more useful than just forcibly schmoozing with people in the industry. And also that there is no way that you will please every member of an audience at once; there will always be people that think your work is too weird and there will always be people that think your work is not weird enough. You just have to be as authentic and as true to yourself as you can.

Finally, what have you been listening to recently? Which albums have been playing on high-rotation?

Just checked my Spotify and these are the last 5 things I listened to:

Haas - String Quartets 1&2

Julius Eastman - Unjust Malaise

Saariaho - L’Amour de loin

Rautavaara - Symphonies

Takemitsu - Quotation of Dream

In Conversation: Brechtje

The Rosa Guitar Trio will be giving the world premiere of your brand-new work Zirve at the upcoming Dots+Loops Festival. Can you tell me about the process of writing this piece from inspiration through to the rehearsal period?

When Kieran asked me to compose for three guitars, I was already wrestling with a musical motive for a while. This rhythmical phrase that was so fierce that I had no idea what to do with it. I like it best when you can see musical material unfold itself; a little seed turning green and then branching out into a big complex organic tree. When listening to Rosa's repertoire, Ravel's string quartet in F and the cd with Paco de Lucia, Al di Meola and John McLaughlin, my starting phrase started to grow.

Does your overall approach change when you’re working on a specific commission compared to working on your own projects?

In order to become meaningful, to have 'that spark' of truthfulness, every work needs to become a project of my own. Whereas my own projects originate from an idea that resonated in me from the start, commissions often bring along ideas that need to grow on me first. Once I've found out why indeed that idea so exciting to explore, the project will be one of my own.

You refer to yourself as a “musical omnivore”, seeking inspiration in a broad range of world musics and genres. Do you actively seek out new music to listen to or have you always enjoyed a diverse mix of artists and performers?

This will sound very vague, but: I love music that reaches me deeply in a physical way. Also, when music invites and challenges me at the same time, it grabs my full attention. And all of this doesn't relate to a specific genre or culture. I don't realize the boundaries of these musical worlds so much and therefore will experience the same excitement when listening to prog-rock as to Stravinsky's work as to old Persian songs.

When you’re at the beginning of a new work, how do you get in the zone to write and be creative? Do you have a tried-and-true method or does it change from project to project?

Getting ideas is not the difficult part. Mainly, I need to work hard to channel my enthusiasm. Because I am so thrilled to see an idea come to life, I often forget then to think it through, to search for the most effective way to develop it into whatever form (3 hour long piece, installation, pop song, ballet, poetry, cake etc.) it needs. Saying that, next to enthusiasm, I also always try to keep on reflecting if I'm being led by expectation, laziness or assumptions. All of that should leave the creative hub ASAP, for the core idea to have the space to lead.

I know that if I just sit down, creation will happen. And that's not a gift, that's simply sitting down and giving it a try.

Your work has been performed all over the world in festivals and programs from Europe to the United States and now in Australia. Do your travels inspire the music you write in any way?

When traveling, I get loads of chances to retune my perspective on the world and myself and to expand my set of creative tools to develop ideas. The more you know of and understand, the more choices you can make. And the more choices you can make, the more sincere the work will become. Because those choices will be made anyways, either by the actually often not so interesting subconcience or by your quirky, unique mind.

For young composers getting started on their journey, do you have any advice about creating a career in the industry?

Take away everything any person in your professional surroundings could possibly complain about concerning your work, in advance.

When you have a wild idea, come up with a strategy to make it happen. When that strategy asks for bluffing, be honest to yourself. Being honest doesn't mean talking yourself down, it means reflecting if you are physically capable to do that. If so, do it.

In Conversation: Chris Perren

You’ve written a new work for the Rosa Guitar Trio to be premiered at the upcoming Dots+Loops Festival. Can you tell me about the piece and what the rehearsal process has looked like?

Well, it's called "ouendan" and it's an audiovisual piece - which basically means I have edited the video and composed the music together, and they synchronise and complement each other. It's named after a form of Japanese cheerleading which is very old and traditional, and has very sharp movements. I've used some footage of ouendan performers, and cut it up and looped it and messed with it to create the video.

Synchronising live music with a video is always kind of tricky, because they need to play along to a click, but the click has to be kind of secret, so there's headphones and such involved in keeping everyone in time. But Rosa are real pros, so we've really had no issues pulling it together. They've really helped me to develop the work, and have been extremely open minded and generous with their time and skills. The only unfortunate part is that they don't really get to watch the video while they play!

How did the piece unfold before you met with the performers? What does your writing process look like?

Writing audiovisual pieces is something I've been doing for about 5 years now, usually the two main things I'm trying to explore are: 1) what rhythmic information can be contained in the motion of a short clip of video, and 2) what complexities can arise from looping and layering short sections, and allowing them to drift out of alignment.

So the process generally starts with me trawling the internet, rummaging through my collection of odd VHS tapes, or capturing new footage to try and find something that has the kind of motion I'm looking for. Once that is found, I mess around with different combinations and see what starts to pop out for me, and that's usually what I'll develop further. Most of what I make in the early stages goes in the bin! I'm really interested in the idea of emergence - what unexpected surprises get thrown up by the process itself.

The most tedious part is something called rotoscoping, which involves editing the footage frame-by-frame to isolate a single element. It takes forever, but it's often necessary for the kind of techniques I like to use. So it's kind of handy that I only ever use very short cuts of footage!

If it's for live musicians I'll usually spend a fair bit of time varying and refining the parts to make sure they're fun and interesting to play. I like to try and make sure that it would stand up as a piece with or without the video.

What are your go-to writing tools when you start off work on a new commission? Do you prefer pen and manuscript or notation software, or does it differ from work to work?

I am a big believer in the fact that different tools bring out different musical ideas, so I make a conscious effort to use everything - notation or diagrams on paper, instruments, recording and sequencing software, notation software, drum machines, loop pedals, tape machines... And I move around between them a fair bit. For example, if I create an idea in Logic or Sibelius, I'll try and learn to play it on guitar or piano, and see what different ideas jump out from operating in a different mode.

For the audiovisual pieces though, I usually have Apple Motion or Final Cut and Logic Pro open simulataneously, and am usually bouncing back and forth between the two. And in writing for Rosa trio, I had the guitar out quite a lot - it's my main instrument so it's nice to be able to try things out on it.

You’re an artist, a music-maker and an organiser, and your day-to-day covers a whole heap of different activities, from composition and teaching to creating music events and pop music. How do you find time for all of your creative pursuits and does each practice help feed and inspire the others?

Managing my time is definitely the biggest challenge I face! I have a two year-old, so since becoming a parent, juggling multiple projects has become a lot harder. I've definitely had to trim down my activities. I try to be aware of not becoming a perpetually busy person with little to talk about except how busy I am... so for the sake of my health and my family and friends, I try to always keep a bit of downtime and not take it all too seriously. It helps that composing is a pretty relaxing state for me, so that also feels like downtime sometimes.

They all do tend to feed into each other, I'm really enriched and inspired by being with my family, and I'm lucky to have a job at UQ where I can be part of a musical/academic community where interesting things are always going on.

You also play in a math-rock band, Mr. Maps. What’s math-rock all about?!

Nominally I am, though we haven't played a show in nearly 2 years. Math-rock is a very interesting genre which I was obsessed with for most of my 20s. It's sprung from post-rock, but has a bit of a focus on rhythmic intricacy. The bands TTNG (formerly This Town Needs Guns) and Toe are good starting places for the uninitiated. I heard it described once as "prog rock with unpaid student loans" - which feels right to me. We had a lot of fun in Mr. Maps, and I feel like I learnt a lot about music from playing with those people. I think the kind of music that comes out of 5 people playing in a room together with no notation of any kind is just so different from what comes out of one composer pinning down a bunch of notes for someone else to play.

Any words of advice for young composers hoping to work in the new music/contemporary classical sphere?

Follow what fascinates you and don't be ashamed of your obsessions, no matter how unhip they are.

Don't lose sight of the people aspect - make friendships, not just networks, and remember to write parts for musicians, not for instruments.

Don't take yourself too seriously.

In Conversation: David Kram

Voice student Ben Glover caught up with composer and musical director, David Kram to speak about his new project, PEACE.

What are the origins of PEACE? How did it all start?

The origins of PEACE lie in the Rotary Club of Melbourne which I am a member of. Soon after I became a member I was invited to join the 0808 committee, which stands for the 8th August and it commemorates the Battle of Amiens in 1918, when John Monash led the Australian troops to a very great victory which sealed the end of the war. Kevin O’Flaherty founded the 0808 committee in John Monash’s honour, because he felt that his name and reputation ought to be better known in Australia, rather than just naming a freeway and a university after him. Kevin came up to me and said, I think I’d like to see an opera written about John Monash. I asked him what audience he wanted, and Kevin said any which would make his name better known. So I thought I was best to compose for choir. We looked around for a librettist unsuccessfully, so I said to Kevin look, you’ve written this poem 1918, it’s got really good material, put that together with some of Monash’s own writings and you’ve got a libretto. And that’s how it started in 2011.

How would you describe the cantata’s musical style? Were you influenced by any composers?

I’m always influenced by all the composers I’ve dealt with, from Monteverdi and Palestrina, through to world premieres that I’ve conducted. 1960s pop music from my teenage years too, and a bit of music theatre. But I consciously tried to say, what kind of music would Monash have played and enjoyed? He lived from 1865 to 1931, so the music that you’ll hear has resonances from music written about that time. At its most romantic it evokes Dvořák, Middle Europe (Germany, Austria, Czechoslovakia and Poland, where Monash’s parents came from), and at its most modern somebody has said it sounds like Richard Meale. A little bit of Janáček as well; I find Janáček’s writing is modern and yet it’s rooted in the nineteenth century. A bit of Percy Grainger too, who was around about the same time as John Monash. And then there’s also your sacred four-part church music.

What was it like collaborating with poet Kevin O’Flaherty?

Well Kevin and I are good buddies. He never set out to be the librettist, and in a way he was quite surprised because he doesn’t consider himself to be a professional poet. And despite my best urgings he’s not yet published his poem. He did agree to add footnotes, because his style is modelled off some of the more cryptic poets like Dorothy Parker, people who write poetry and miss out half the words so it’s almost a sort of telegraph language. He alludes to people, places and events that you wouldn’t know anything about unless you actually knew the background. And this has been one of the challenges of the work.

As we went on, especially after 2015, Kevin felt that the music sort of swamped the words. And I said Kevin, you know, this is always the case. That’s why country and western music have the simplest of chord patterns and the simplest of tunes, so that the words come through. So I said let’s cut down the number of words, and let’s repeat some of them. “Let there be peace, let there be peace,” and by the fifth time of “let there be peace” people will say oh, “let there be peace.” I think that helped a lot, and Kevin understood that. But there was always this tension between wanting to convey the information about Monash and the music. It’s in every collaboration, there’s always that tension – Mozart had it.

What were some of the challenges you faced during the work’s composition?

Even though we’re not being paid for the composition we still had expenses. We kept on applying for grants, especially the Australia Council and Arts Victoria grants, but we weren’t successful. So I went to my company More Than Opera, and they believed in the composition and were willing to take the risk. So we were relying on our donor base before we applied for a grant with the Robert Salzer Foundation, and finally we were successful. It was such a long drawn out process because we had no interest from the major arts funding organisations. But I speak as one of many in saying that most people don’t get funding, especially if it’s anything to do with classical music. You’ve got to be more experimental.

The second challenge was that Kevin moved to Queensland, and although we did a lot by phone and by email our most productive work was when we sat together and nutted things out. So that dragged out the process.

What did you learn from composing PEACE?

I learnt that – I hate to say this – I’ve got more compositional techniques and inspiration for melodies and rhythms in me than I ever thought I had. I’m not saying it’s inexhaustible, but give me a task and I know I can compose. Rossini used to be able to compose a shopping list. I seem to compose from a lot of different sources. And some of the music actually does sound a lot more sophisticated when I rehearse it than even when I was composing it.

What would your advice be to any young composers?

They have to follow their instincts. Every composer has their own individual voice, their own individual message that they have in their hearts. They have to follow those. Some composers want their music to be liked, and heard and repeated. Some composers say, I don’t care what anybody thinks, I’m just going to compose what I believe in, it may be acceptable now or it may be acceptable in the future. That’s really up to the composer.

But I will say this, try to be simple and direct, especially if it’s for vocal music. If you’re writing an opera don’t just write reels and reels of prose that just go on and on. Otherwise you might as well just say the words over background music (and in fact, some parts of the cantata I’ve done precisely that). I’m also a great believer in structural forms. Verse forms, strophe, ternary, variation form, passacaglias. Because people do relate to that, they need a structure.

In Conversation: Jayson Gilham

Your newly released third album features the rarely-heard Medtner Piano Concerto No. 1 in C Minor. How did you discover the work and what was the process for programming the remainder of the record?

I was asked to learn Medtner’s first concerto for a feature documentary about the Australian pianist Geoffrey Tozer. Along the way I asked ABC Classics General Manager Toby Chadd whether it was something they would like to record and he liked the idea very much. At the time I was also working on the Rachmaninoff No. 2 with MSO for one of their free concerts at the Sidney Myer Music Bowl. It seemed like a great pairing, as the two men were contemporaries and friends. Toby Chadd suggested I add a couple of short solo works, and together we chose the beautiful Medtner ‘Angel’ and I chose the Rachmaninoff D major Prelude.

Performing for a live audience is, I imagine, a different beast to playing for a recording. Does the way you prepare the pieces going into the studio differ from the way you prepare for a live performance?

I always like to prepare everything as if it is for a live performance, however the process of studio recording is different. It could be compared to recording for film as opposed to live theatre. Sometimes you have to start at Act Two Scene Three and be immediately in character and aware of where this scene fits within the overall structure of the work. It can be mentally tiring because you need to maintain this intensity over a number of days.

Since relocating to London for study in 2007, you have performed across the globe with some of the world's best orchestras and conductors. Can you tell me about that initial trip to the United Kingdom, what it was like to move away from Australia, and now how you look after yourself on the road when you're away for so much of the year?

This is a great question. I can’t believe it’s already ten years since I left sunny Queensland. It’s a very difficult thing on reflection, to move so far away from home, and to be a country boy at heart who’s grown to form a love-hate relationship with city life. At the beginning, when I first moved to London, I was so caught up in the excitement of study at the Royal Academy of Music and new friends at my student halls that I didn’t realise what an upheaval it was. But after my first trip back to Australia I became very homesick. Over time things have settled to a point where I’m left with bittersweet feelings of being partly at home and partly out of place wherever I go.

I’m getting better at packing for trips. I don’t like quick trips where I have to take only hand luggage and be corralled through large clunky European airports. Those trips are very draining because what should be only a one or two hour flight ends up taking almost a full day by the time you factor in the train/bus journeys at either end and the 2-3hrs you need to be at the airport before the flight. European airports tend to serve a number of different cities and are not close to any of them. Australian domestic air travel is an altogether painless experience after flying in Europe.

I try to eat healthily and for me that means 95% of what I eat is whole plant foods. It’s a very nutritious diet that gives me a lot of energy and I tend to bounce back from the travel better now eating this way. For exercise, while I’m travelling it can be difficult. I really like Feldenkrais, which is popular amongst musicians but less well known than Alexander Technique. It teaches you a really fine awareness of your body through very gentle and pleasant movements. I can get away without massages most of the time now if I keep up with a regular Feldenkrais practice. It helps me to address an imbalance between the left and right sides of my body and a tightness in my mid back which can build up over time if I’m not careful and start to cause me problems. I have added this to my repertoire of strength and physio/pilates based exercises that I can take on the road with me anywhere. But I highly recommend to anyone, especially performing artists, to delve into Feldenkrais. There are endless resources online and a good place to start is www.feldenkrais.co.uk.

Being a professional pianist takes a lot more than just great technique and musicianship: in fact, you have to be fantastic at lots of non-musical things! Outside of the practice room, what have been the most important skills you've needed to develop?

For all musicians and especially those focused on mostly solo work and spending a lot of time alone, it is crucial to develop social skills and an ability to communicate with your audience. These days everyone wants to have a more personal connection with the artist and I always try to see the audience after the concert and say hello. For solo recitals in a more intimate or less formal setting I will introduce each piece, talking about its historical context, its context in the life of the composer, and often my personal connection or experience with that piece.

Another critical skill is an ability to network and promote yourself and your work, with self-respect and discretion of course. At the end of the day no one is going to be as committed to helping you out as yourself, so it is very important to keep contacting promoters, agents, critics, etc, and finding other musicians you like and want to work with. The right tone and balance has to be struck, of course, because friendly reminders and updates can quickly turn into spam emails and unwanted calls.

With recitals and examinations fast approaching for students, getting performance-ready is the task at the front of the mind. Do you have any advice for musicians on dealing with feelings of performance anxiety and stage fright? How do you keep nerves in check before a performance?

I am perhaps not the best person to ask about performance anxiety because I know that it can range from nerves to something rather serious and debilitating, which fortunately I have not experienced. I think it would be wise for anyone with a crippling kind of anxiety to seek professional help in the form of therapy. There are many people who are very experienced in this and I have had friends who have benefited from therapy regarding performance anxiety.

I’ve been very lucky in that my nerves are mostly positive ones that help to make my performance more exciting and narrow my focus on stage. The only times I’ve had the bad kind of nerves is when I’ve felt underprepared, and so I would caution everyone, especially if they have to memorise their works, to know their music well enough that they can pick it up at a number of different points throughout the piece. Practising in a way that really reinforces forms of memory other than muscle memory is very important. Try practising a piece starting at a different point each time, and really get to know where you are structurally in the piece, such as what key you are in and where it modulates to next. Get to know your fingerings and inner voicings, and for pianists, practise the hands separately to the point of being able to completely memorise just the left hand, or try playing only the inner notes of chordal passages to strengthen your deep knowing of the piece. For a contrapuntal work, try singing one part whilst playing all the others. All of these tricks really help to secure a performance to the point where nerves are not going to cause debilitating worry on stage.

I think the more I’ve performed the more I’ve realised that the audience are there to enjoy the music, and they are not there to criticise me at every turn. There might be a couple of people in your average audience who go to concerts wanting to pick everything apart, but the vast majority are appreciative and understanding. People really want the performance to go well for you. And those listening who are performers/teachers/examiners, they have all been on stage themselves and know only too well the pressure of performing. They will also be hoping and wishing that it goes well for you.

Finally, if you could go back to the start of your performance career and give yourself one piece of advice about the industry, what would you say?

Repertoire! Learn lots of repertoire and learn it thoroughly, because later on you will have less time to learn new things. Look after your body. Learn languages (do as I say and not as I do when it comes to this one!).

In Conversation: Michael Kieran Harvey

Let's talk Zappa: what about his music inspires you? How did you first discover his records?

His music was always a mixture of improvisation and notation. It was highly heterodox and bewilderingly eclectic. It mocked hypocrisy in whatever form, musical, social, political, religious, fashion, sexual, you name it. He trained the best players in the US. I discovered his records Trawling through Blue Light import records off Pitt St Sydney at age 12. 1973.

For Cage and Zappa at the Australian National Academy of Music, you'll be collaborating with percussionist Peter Neville and pianist Timothy Young. How did the collaboration come about and what has your rehearsal and preparation process looked like in the lead up to the performance?

I have known these guys for decades, and we have been talking of a three-way collaboration almost as long. The collaboration is a result of a lot of hard work and good will by Tim and Peter. Peter has done some incredible arrangements of Zappa and my own pieces, and Tim has been researching Cage and putting together a truly forensic performance of these visionary works. I'm just lucky to be asked really! A lot of the show will come together in the week I'm resident there at ANAM, including some pretty surprising works by Zappa's Italian Baroque namesake, Francesco Zappa.

You've spoken about how risk and failure should be part of our culture because it stimulates innovation. Why is failure a useful part of creative process? How do you deal with (or nurture) failure in your personal practice as a composer and pianist?

I was wrong when I said it should be part of our culture - of course our culture is a culture of failure already. We are surrounded by failure masquerading as success, as efficiency, as growth, as competition etc. I relish true failure. It is the essence of being human.

You have played a great variety of music in your career - from the great romantics to newly composed synth parts. What advice do you have for young musicians who would like to try a genre of music that feels initially out of their comfort zone?

My advice? Don't move out of your comfort zone, it's scary and you might find it difficult to conform to society. You might start questioning. That way madness lies.

With school and university back in full swing for semester two, recitals and examinations are now just around the corner. When an important performance is coming up for you, how do you deal with any feelings of anxiety that crop up?

Every performance is important, but only to me - I couldn't care less what others think. Those that do care should stick to exams and assessments, and define themselves by what others think of them.

Do you have some tried-and-tested techniques for dealing with stage fright?

Run like hell. Laugh.

In Conversation: Sam Weller

In conversation with Will Hansen on conducting, collaborations and classical saxophone.

You've organised several concerts already, boasting a wide range of repertoire presented by the diverse line-up of your ensemble. Would you say that this is one of Ensemble Apex's foundational principals?

Absolutely! The aim of the ensemble is to play both well-known chamber repertoire, as well as what are perhaps the more obscure works within the chamber music canon. In the upcoming concert's program, we have two concertos by Martinu and Prokofiev, written for relatively large orchestras, so we are using the word "chamber orchestra" loosely here! The true chamber works that will be played on the night are Wagner's Sigfried Idyll for 13 musicians, and Copland's Appalachian Spring for 15 musicians. These two pieces are cornerstones of the Chamber Orchestra literature, in comparison to the Martinu Oboe Concerto, which, while being a staple of oboe repertoire is not particularly well known amongst other musicians. The Prokofiev Cello Concertino is very rarely performed- the composer actually died before it was completed! It was finished by the cellist Mstislav Rostropovich. This concerto uses themes from the earlier Sinfonia Concertante, although it is for a much smaller orchestra, and has a much more intimate feel to it. So yes, we have presented varied performances, in order to cover the wide range of repertoire that's out there. I guess we want to do something that’s intriguing for people to come and watch.

You have a number of Special Guests joining you for the upcoming concert- who are they and how did you get them on board?

We are very lucky to have Toby Thatcher, assistant conductor of the Sydney Symphony Orchestra , as well as Umberto Clerici, principal cellist, and Shefali Pryor, who is associate principal oboist. Toby has been something of a mentor figure to me, and he has helped me to develop my own conducting style; I approached him at the end of last year asking if he'd like to work with the group, and we furthered that plan this year when we decided to put on the two concertos. He got in contact with some people from the Sydney Symphony, and both Umberto and Shefali were very happy to do it, which we are VERY thankful for! They are such stunning musicians. It's also a great opportunity for me as a developing conductor to have 3 people that know exactly what they're doing up the front to provide, I suppose, an educational aspect to this concert, rather than having me flap my arms around learning things as I go. But in all seriousness, we are extremely lucky to have 3 outstanding and amazing musicians who will take the performance to the next level.

In addition to being a conductor, you're also a classical saxophonist by trade… what are your experiences in these fields, and how did they lead to the foundation of the ensemble?

I suppose that as a classical saxophone player, you get to learn very quickly that your job prospects are slim. There are no permanent positions in orchestras anywhere, unless you want to go into the wind band world. If not, you have to make your own work! In year 10, I was introduced to conducting by my music teacher at Newtown Performing Arts High School. Ever since then I suppose that I've always loved orchestral music, and I realised that conducting was the only way to get involved with it! I've never actually performed with an orchestra on the saxophone, so my experience with the orchestra has only been through conducting. It was the only way to get involved with the orchestra, so thought to myself "It's what I've gotta do!" I love saxophone, but I think conducting is what I'm focused on- it's my passion.

So, you plan to take it further?

Definitely. I would like to travel overseas or do my masters… not sure quite yet! Conducting is definitely the long-term goal.

How do you, as Artistic Director and conductor, view your role within the context of the ensemble?

We want to put on the most intriguing concerts possible. In the future, that means that we will mix with other art forms such as speech, dance, singing (which with and orchestra is slightly less common these days!). One of my focuses when I program music is to attract a diverse crowd; that also is amplified by our sponsorship with Young Henry's, who have very generously donated to us for our upcoming concert! Craft beer plus Newtown Hipsters… hopefully their eyes will be open a bit, and hopefully we've attracted people who don't normally come to classical music concerts (with free beer no less!). All in all, we are trying to present music to people who love classical music, as well as people who may be interested in hearing it, but don't get a chance to.

You've sold out your upcoming concert, so we'll wait and see who comes!

Hopefully they all turn up!

What are your goals for the future of the ensemble?

It's very much "as it comes" at the moment, seeing what opportunities arise… For example, I have a good friend who dances with the Sydney Dance Company who is going to collaborate on a project with me- if all goes to plan, we will try to tackle Bartok's Miraculous Mandarin, complete with contemporary dancers. Additionally, the Australian composer, Dr. Nicholas Vines, has generously decided to compose a piece for the Chamber Orchestra, which will be premiered next year; It will be paired in concert with a well-known piece of early classical repertoire. Vine's piece will be a new take on the music of CPE Bach, in the form of Three Sinfoniettas, which we look forward to performing and hearing… it's very exciting for us as an Ensemble to play completely new music. It's unfortunately something that we haven't been doing as much, so I promise we'll pick up the game with that one next year! There are a few more varied projects which we are looking to do in the future- for example, in the past we've collaborated with a number of artists in order to try and diversify classical music. We have presented a concert as part of the VIVID SYDNEY Festival which included orchestrated versions of Dance anthems from the 90's, complete with live DJ, band, and pyrotechnics, so hopefully we'll have a chance to get amongst it again next year. We also had the opportunity to work with the pop star Lorde earlier this year, and finally, we are hoping to record some music at both the end of this year and onwards. Should be exciting!

In Conversation: Taryn Fiebig

The 50th anniversary of West Australian Opera was recently celebrated with a brand-new production of The Merry Widow, in which you performed the role of Hanna Glavari - the rich and exuberant title character. Can you tell me about the role and what the production period looked like?

Firstly, what an honour to be involved in such an auspicious year with the company, celebrating 50 years. I'm thrilled to have played the extraordinary character, Hanna. She's gorgeous, a down to earth farm girl come elegant and sophisticated socialite who chances upon the love of her life, Danilo. What followed was two very proud people coming to grips with the past and daring each other to commit to the future. I adored them both.

You initially completed your musical training as a cellist before moving your focus to opera singing: what was that transition like and has your string playing influenced the way you approach the learning of vocal music?

It was extremely beneficial studying to be an instrumentalist first, it gives you grounding and a better understanding of operatic scores and greater insight to your conductors and orchestras. For me, it was the right way around as far as my operatic study was concerned.

Travelling across Australia is a large part of your work as a freelance opera singer, as are long hours in and out of the rehearsal room. How do you find a good balance between work and down time? Do you have any tried and true methods for looking after yourself on the road?

Down time, what's that?! My work is my work and my down time. My greatest joy is creating and playing around in amongst beautiful music, great colleagues, with wondrous directors, choreographers, costume designers. I adore my job, it's my everything.

Travel tips, tried and true? I always have a little bag full of pills and potions. Vitamins, a steamer and Friar's Balsam - a tincture I use to steam with, excellent stuff!

You’re also no stranger to the musical theatre stage, having performed as Eliza Doolittle many times in My Fair Lady for Opera Australia. Has your work in the musical theatre world had an impact on the way your approach character development in operatic work and how do you make sure you’re always putting your best voice forward, regardless of genre?

Certainly doing My Fair Lady taught me stamina, discipline and gave me focus for an 8 show a week mentality. However, I approach all my characters the same way, regardless of genre. I am very text driven, so it is always the text I start with.

I ask myself what am I saying to describe myself, but more importantly, what are others saying about me, this gives greater insight to who I am as a character.

For young singers about to embark on a young artist program journey, do you have any suggestions for making them most of your time in this semi-professional, semi-educational environment?

NEVER stop working, practising, reading. Take that ballet class you were putting off, go to that acting class and in your holidays go to Europe and learn Italian. If you want to be a singer you must never stop learning.

If you could go back to the start of your time as a freelance opera singer, what wisdom would you share with yourself about the profession?

It's taken me a while to answer this question, because on one level everything I've done, all the failures and successes have added up to what I've achieved thus far in my career. I have a pretty thick skin from the profession, which I think is important, I suppose I would reassure my younger self that you'll be criticized, criticized to make you a better performer and not to take it personally.

I probably would have started earlier too, so I could have entered competitions that potentially could have given me greater access to over seas opportunities. But to be honest, I am where I need to be and that's a nice place to be.

In Conversation: Kenny Keppel

Hey Kenny! You’ve been accepted into the Norwegian Academy of Music – congratulations! How did you pick that you wanted to go and study in Oslo?

In my first year at the Australian National Academy of Music, I spent a summer in Europe doing some masterclasses – one in Italy and one in Norway. We spent four days in this big conference centre and among other woodwinds, there were about fifteen clarinettists. We had the opportunity to work with two teachers, Andreas Sundén from the Swedish Radio Symphony Orchestra and Björn Nyman from the Norwegian Radio SO, which was a great opportunity and I really enjoyed working with both musicians. I went back to Oslo in February, and as the Academy holds their auditions early in the year I thought that I’d better audition! I had a lesson following the audition with Björn and that really confirmed for me that it’d be a good idea to study in Norway. There’s so much I can learn there.

What are you hoping to get out of your time in Norway?

I think my main goal for the Master’s degree is to figure out what is necessary to become a super reliable and exciting performer. I also kind of just want to learn how to sound great all the time, too! So many players from that part of the world seem to be able to do it, so being surrounded by amazing players will help. I’m also hoping that during the time I’ll be able to meet a lot of new people and be introduced to new kinds of music. Exploring new compositions and new music interests me equally to working towards an orchestral position. I’m super into interesting performance experiences and I think being somewhere new will open a lot of possibilities.

Is having a portfolio career a goal of yours? It sounds like performing lots of different things in many different formats is a priority!

I absolutely love performing with an orchestra and if I could get a position doing that I’d be really happy, but I do want the flexibility to push boundaries in other musical ways – through solo work, commissioning and working with new compositions, playing chamber repertoire. A lot of people who sit in orchestras now seem to be prioritising that: Plexus, for example, do a series of concerts that include almost all new repertoire! I would love to be performing that kind of work and not be purely tied to an orchestral schedule. Having room to explore is important. Being at the Australian National Academy of Music really gave me a taste for that, as their program is particularly experimental and flexible. Now, having spent the first half of this year freelancing, I’ve learnt about creating my own work schedule and finding time to make my own projects happen, which has been quite an experience. I have been working on The Up-Bow Down-Low as well – a podcast created for ANAM – and that has been a great outlet in a different way. I’m not sure if anyone listens, but it’s been great to use the platform to explore different ideas! I’d love to be able to do an array of projects in the future: creating new types of experiences for audiences. You can’t wait for other people to make things happen, you have to jump in and do it yourself!

Do you think all your different projects influence each other? Does the busy-ness actually help?

Having your mind in lots of different places kind of forces you to figure out how you’re going to fit everything together and it certainly gives you a wider perspective on the arts. I’ve been trying to get experience in this way for a while: when I was in Auckland Youth Orchestra I was on the committee and was a player representative. I was also part of the marketing team for a while. There were no real guidelines, which meant we had to be creative and learn those necessary skills as we went. I think learning how to promote your own concerts definitely heightens your involvement and understanding of the whole scene, which is what my work with AYO and now the podcast work has done. It also makes you feel like you’re really contributing something worthwhile.

When you were just starting out in promoting your own projects and performances, what do you wish you’d known? Do you have any advice for your younger self?

I wish I’d known that you’ve really got to think of everything! There are so many things that go into a concert that you might not realise. Once you’ve printed flyers, how do they actually get to people? Where should you put up your posters? How much will everything cost? A potential patron must see an advertisement for an event three times before they’ll action it, so you have to make sure you’re getting your marketing in the right places. I think being proactive has been the biggest learning curve.

It’s almost time for you to make the big move overseas: why do you think it’s important to travel with your music? What will you and others get out of leaving Australia for a time to study?

You get a different perspective on how people think about music in different parts of the world. The way music is treated in different societies is really varied and travel allows you to be introduced to new concepts both on your instrument and in a broader way, which can only be a good thing. I think when you get super comfortable in one place it’s easy to get complacent and take the accelerator off, so spending some time in a new place reminds you to push harder. Meeting new people and teachers and experiencing a different environment can be really good for your musicality because it keeps your viewpoint wide. Moving to a different country can also really challenge you in ways you never would imagine – you discover things about yourself and how you react to social situations. If you can put yourself in a new situation and observe your own actions and reactions you can learn a lot about yourself. I think a big international move can open up a process of self-discovery. Once you figure out all the initial stuff and the dust settles a bit, you can find you’re a little more confident and self-aware. Maybe a little humbler! It’s really good for figuring out who you are.

In Conversation: Jakub Jankowski

You’ve recently been commissioned by Musica Viva to write two new works, including your octet for the Music Viva Festival, performed by the Goldner and Elias string quartets. How did this relationship come about and what has the experience been like working with the musicians you've been commissioned to write for?

My relationship with Musica Viva began as something of a surprise. Carl Vine discovered some of my music and upon finding out that I was a cellist, contacted me with the invitation to write two new works: a string octet for Musica Viva's 2017 Festival and a cello sonata for the 2017 International Concert Season.

I feel very honoured as a young composer to be able to write for and work with some of the leading musicians of the international chamber music scene at such an early stage of my career.

It was a complete joy to work with the Goldner String Quartet and the Elias String Quartet as they brought my string octet to life at this year's Musica Viva Festival. The total dedication of all the players to my music and their sympathy with my musical intentions was incredibly inspiring. Their professionalism in rehearsal was very impressive and I was amazed at how well these two quartets - who had never played together before - were able to immediately synchronise so well as an octet.

What does your writing process look like when you're working to a commission? Is it different from your approach when you're working on your own projects?

I feel as though every piece I work on has a unique writing process, regardless of whether it's a commissioned work or part of a collaborative project. There's always a different musical focus in every new piece, and my interests are always leading me into new musical territory. For instance, my last two commissioned works were conceived very differently and required me to find very different solutions in writing them. I generally suspect that if what I'm doing feels too familiar, I'm probably not on the right track.

How does your background as a cellist inform your works and compositional process?

The compositional process for me is a somewhat mysterious one and I'm not altogether sure to what degree my background as a cellist informs how and what I write. However, I'm sure that a composer's musical fingerprint is greatly shaped by their main instrument - for instance, Olivier Messiaen's music would be completely different if he wasn't an organist.

It seems to me that my approaches to ensemble writing are very much informed by my background in performing as a cellist in chamber groups and orchestras. From a practical perspective, I often use the cello as a compositional tool to test out and generate musical material, especially when I'm writing for cello/strings.

Do you have a fondness for writing for any particular type of ensemble? Why?

I can't say for sure because there are so many types of ensembles I haven't had the chance to write for yet.

As a cellist, I suppose I'm most comfortable in writing for strings, as I'm very familiar with the strengths, limitations and all the subtle tone colours available. However, I equally like writing for mixed ensembles, traditional chamber groups and large ensembles. Every instrumental configuration comes with its own joys and challenges, and each presents unique compositional obstacles to overcome.

What do you think about the current state of new music in Australia? Do you think the future is looking bright for young composers and performers?

I think there are a lot of fantastic new music ensembles and organisations in Australia which are constantly reaching out to their respective audiences and which offer great opportunities for young composers and performers. It's very inspiring to see plenty of young composers and performers start up their own new music ensembles and curate their own concerts. The future is always uncertain, but I believe there will always be an audience for composers and performers of new music who are deeply immersed in - and tirelessly committed to - what they're doing.

Finally, what advice do you have for fellow young composers who are taking the first steps in getting their work out there?

My advice would be to keep writing, and to take any chance you can to get your music out and into the hands of performers. I think working regularly with players, and hearing and seeing how your music works live in concert is the most effective way of learning and improving compositional 'craft'. But one must not forget that the music will not be performed if it isn't written. So get writing.

In Conversation: Blair Harris

Your upcoming concert with Andrea Katz sees you perform some of the masterpieces of the cello and piano repertoire, including works by Beethoven, Brahms and Debussy. Can you tell me about the programming process for this concert and why you chose the pieces that made the cut?

We both felt we wanted to join forces to explore these powerhouses of the romantic repertoire. Over years I have dedicated myself largely to contemporary music, but this program is a great opportunity to explore something different. Ultimately we chose these three works because they resonate with the both of us. We can share our ideas and past experience with the vision of finding a new collaborative voice for these great masters.

When working on duo repertoire, as you are doing with Andrea in the lead up to Rhapsodic Cello, what does an ideal rehearsal schedule look like? How do you stay efficient when you have limited time and how important is it to take time just to have fun and relax with your colleagues?

Andrea and I have been working together everyday and will continue to do so up until the performance. It is so important to come up with an interpretation that is highly personal to both of us to create a unique and exciting performance. The rehearsal process is often the most interesting aspect of being a performer, we have both allowed space in our schedules to put this concert foremost in our minds. We will relax after the concert!

Your portfolio career sees you working on a huge array of music from romantic gems and crowd-pleasing musicals to 20th-century works and brand new commissions. How do you manage all of your different projects and do you have any advice for instrumentalists hoping to pursue a career as a freelance performer?

I just adore all music! Whatever I am working with at the time often becomes my love affair. I try to divide my time evenly between all the projects but am also careful to create space in the final lead up to a major recital or especially demanding program of chamber music, so it can be my only focus. My advice to successful freelancing is to always stay true to your artistic goals. It is so easy to get overworked as a freelancer because we feel like we always need to be ‘busy’ to been seen as successful. It is really important to keep up your personal practice regime and to feel like, no matter what the gig is, you are in control of your instrument and proud to contribute. Our self-esteem as musicians is intrinsically linked to how we perceive ourselves on our instrument. If we let that side of ourselves down, things can take a turn for the worse and we lose confidence.

In your own personal practice, do you have a tried-and-true schedule that works every time or does your approach change based on your current projects?

I have a rule now every day starts with 30 minutes of technique before breakfast. This really sets up my day to feel powerful and connected to the cello. Performing solo works or duo programs is extremely demanding, your interpretation needs to be really embedded well beyond the hands to be able to communicate the work in a spontaneous manner. I spend a lot of time now away from the cello, reading the scores making possible interpretive decisions that I will try in my next physical practice session. I find I am much more creative this way being free from ever getting caught putting technique ahead of musical decisions.

For those students with end of year recitals on their minds, can you share three of your best strategies for getting performance ready?

Start early! Cramming for performances doesn’t work. Your body and mind need time to digest the repertoire both musically and technically. Giving yourself a large lead up also allows you to rest certain pieces for a few days and come back to them with fresh eyes.

Always practice with a purpose. Choose one aspect you would like to improve at a time and achieve it. It’s easy to feel an ‘All or Nothing’ mentality when leading up to performances. But by breaking things down into achievable goals you’ll see quick improvements and build confidence. Mindless repetition is an absolute waste of time!

Perform as much as possible. Whether it be a phrase to your practice neighbour or a run through of one of your pieces. Too often we get caught up in this ‘it has to be perfect’ mentality. This isn’t realistic without allowing yourself to be comfortable performing. Schedule a few informal runs for people you trust and stick with them. At the end of the day, music isn’t about an exam or a grade, it is about communicating something highly emotional and powerful with other human beings. The more you do that, the better off we will all be.

In Conversation: Laura Barton

You'll be conducting Safe and Sound - A Benefit for the Syrian Humanitarian Crisis. Can you tell me about how the project came to be and why you think music has the power to change lives?

This project is the brain child of my wonderful colleagues, Kyla and Tiffany. Through the ANAM community of staff, students, and supporters, they realised that we have the power to truly make a difference if we put our minds to it. This is a great initiative which so many people have already got behind, and it's so far shaping up to be an amazing concert and a powerful evening.

Music is truly a universal language, that transcends all other barriers such as race, religion, and political beliefs. Because of this, it's an important tool in bringing people together who might not otherwise think they have anything in common. It also affects emotions - sad music makes you feel sad, etc. This empathetic sharing of emotion can be incredibly powerful in forming connections with people. Performing and sharing music with others makes me feel closer to them like we have a bond formed through this shared experience. If we use music to feel others' emotions, it's a step towards understanding them, and understanding enables us to better communicate and assist.

The programming of a performance is one of the most important steps in the planning process - how did you choose the repertoire for this project and what meaning does each piece hold in the broader context of the evening's purpose?

The main works I'm involved with in this concert are the Hindemith and the Shostakovich. These are both men who were persecuted because of their political views as well as their compositional style. Hindemith himself was forced to flee Germany after the rise of the Nazi party, and a ban was placed on performances of his works. Although the Kammermusik 1 is mostly a light hearted work, it is Hindemith's personal experiences and wider social and cultural context that has driven us to include him in this performance. Shostakovich's iconic 8th Quartet is an autobiographical work and shows a picture of both his entire life and his situation at the time of writing. The work is dedicated "to the victims of fascism and war", a heading that included himself. This resonates deeply with the Syrian humanitarian crisis.

What initially drew you to the baton and podium? Has your background as a violinist performing both as a soloist and in ensembles influenced your conducting style in any way?

My passion with the violin has always been orchestral playing, and during my university study, I became really interested in the concept of the orchestra as an instrument. As a conductor, you don't just get to play one instrument; you wave your arms and this incredible sound comes out. I definitely feel that having had a lot of experience playing in an orchestra has influenced my conducting and rehearsal techniques. Watching other conductors, you learn what works and what doesn't and can adopt that.

When you're leading an ensemble, how do you make sure you're being as efficient as possible in preparing works for performance, particularly when you have limited time available to rehearse?

I always aim to be as prepared as I possibly can before we get to the first rehearsal. This involves listening to lots of different interpretations, studying the score, chatting to my musicians to learn their thoughts and concerns, and playing through the music myself at the piano. I also have to rely on my colleagues to prepare their own parts so that we don't have to spend rehearsal time learning notes, which is especially important with limited time. It's essential for me to have a clear idea in my head of what I want to achieve in each session before we start. This means that I can focus on passages that are difficult both technically and musically challenging and hopefully navigate them as quickly as possible.

For musicians young and old with an interest in using their talents to help others and raise awareness, do you have any ideas about how to get started in creating an important project like this one?

I feel like a lot of people want to contribute to a worthy cause like this, but don't know how, or don't want to give to an organisation who will take profits for themselves. By talking to friends and colleagues, creating an idea like this one, it only takes a couple of people to get organised and put something together. So many people have jumped at the chance to be involved and help out, and I'm sure that we'll get a great audience. This is an easy conduit for people to give aid, and in a situation where we know where the funds come from and where they'll go.

In Conversation: Hubert Francis

It is almost time for young artist programs to commence, kickstarting the careers of another year of opera singers. Can you tell us about your experience in the Covent Garden Young Artist Program, and at what moment you knew that a career in singing was what you wanted to do?

My experience in the Young Artists Programme at Royal Opera House from 2002 to 2004 was awesome. Receiving premium language, movement and vocal coaching with artists of, in many cases, 40 years experience cannot be matched, which was complimented by the opportunity to take on small roles and cover larger ones in main stage productions. My Covent Garden stage debut was as the Peasant in Verdi's Luisa Miller alongside Frittoli, Alvarez, Furlanetto conducted by Benini. I spoke when spoken to and took everything in seasoned professionals around me did. To answer the second part of your question, I knew a career in singing was what I wanted to do from around 1983, sitting in the audience at a Sydney Opera House performance of Wagner's Die Walkuere with Rita Hunter as Bruennhilde.

Travel is a large part of your life as a professional opera singer. When you're on the road, how do you look after yourself both mentally and physically?

Up to 9 and a half months on the road annually is tough. I read a lot and walk twice daily, getting to know the city am working in. History has always interested me. The Resistance Museum in Amsterdam would be one of the most memorable I've visited and influenced a portrayal of role I was doing with Dutch National Opera in Christof Loy's confronting production of Verdi's Les Vepres Siciliennes. I also do a 20-40 minute physical warm up before a vocal warm up, and meditating also plays a big part in my process - we were introduced to this while studying at Manchester's Royal Northern College of Music.

You're currently in Australia to adjudicate for the Sydney Eisteddfod - one of the most important vocal competitions for young singers in the country. Other than a fine instrument, what do you love to see on stage in competitions?

We are in the business of a combined science and art discipline, however we are also entertainers. To maintain a good vocal technique requires knowledge of the science of how we do what we do, and to do it again and again and again. My experience of artistry and musicality is that these tend to be, for the most part, innate in a performer. When the technique becomes one with the artistry, that's what I love to witness and am heartened to say I saw it frequently these last ten days of adjudication.

To become successful in the opera industry, there are a considerable number of skills to learn outside of the mastery of your instrument. What non-musical skills have been most important to you in your career so far?

When to keep your counsel.
Arrive early so you can start on time.
Your reputation starts yesterday and you're are only as good as your next performance.
Above all, work on developing a balanced inner self-critic.
When faced with a brand new role, what does your process look like? How much time do you spend on learning the music vs developing the role, for example?

Ideally, where possible, I like to do a smaller role in the same opera (e.g. one of the Jews in Salome before taking on Herod) or cover the role before doing it. This makes the work of learning the role easier. Do a word for word translation as it's imperative to know what I'm singing about. I like to 'sing/speak' the text separately from the music, on the breath/support, getting it into the body and muscle memory, noting voiced and unvoiced consonants etc. Taste the text. I then speak it in time before adding pitches. I memorise faster this way. In good composition the rhythm and pitches reveal the character the composer wants/wanted.

If you could go back in time and share something that you wish you'd known about the opera industry with your younger self, what would you say?

Hindsight is wonderful however all industries evolve and likewise, participants evolve or perish. Keep educating yourself about your physiology, voice, art form and surround yourself with teachers and coaches who offer constructive criticism. Never burn a bridge nor be afraid to admit you were in the wrong. Life and work are about being respected not being everyone's best friend. I'm grateful for growing up on a farm witnessing droughts and floods, followed by a decade working in Sydney in Sales, Marketing and PR before heading overseas aged 28 to study at RNCM. I've done many a temp job along the way, am married and have 2 kids which move the goalposts of life. Being a parent is the most difficult job of all. I'm now close to 150 performances on the Covent Garden stage and have shared it and other stages/concert platforms with some of the greatest singers, conductors and directors of our time. Reality in every dream, go live it.

In Conversation: Ken Mackenzie-Forbes AM

You are currently the Artistic Director of The Production Company, but before you came into this role you worked in a variety of artistic leadership positions: as an executive producer, a general manager and a director. Can you tell me about the start of your musical journey and how you came to find your place as an artistic leader?

I trained as a musician and studied music as part of my degree at Queensland University, and I realised at that time that I didn't have enough talent to make it as a professional musician, so I came around to the thought that I would like to be in a situation where I could facilitate or administer the creation of music and opera, at that stage. I was also in the Commonwealth Government, working in the Department of Trade at the time, and in the late 1960's they established the Australia Council, so at the beginning of 1970, they created a position for a Senior Music Officer, which was the first position for a music officer ever created. I was appointed to that position in 1970. From that point on I was working in the music industry, and I had a great time there looking after companies from the Australian Opera through to community-based groups. We had funding for chamber music and Australian music as well as specific funds for the development of the state opera companies: there was a lot going on across a broad spectrum. I was there for four years and enjoyed it enormously, but I decided that after that I wanted to work in the field, so I left the Council to become the administrator for what was then the Elizabethan Trust Orchestra. I was there for a few years before spending a brief time in London. When I got back the Arts Centre Melbourne was being built and the state opera company was being developed alongside it, so I moved to the then Victorian State Opera to run the company for 19 years. Then I did some work at IMG as a producer of events and did some work on my own before Jeanne Pratt told me she wanted to start The Production Company. I helped her do that and it transpired that I came on board full time to work in management as well, and I've been here ever since! That's the trajectory.

What a trajectory! Through all of those different organisations, you must have seen the development of many careers - of course, the careers of performers, but also the pathways of other artistic leaders and administrators. Can you tell me what you think it takes to create a sustainable career offstage in the arts?

Well, I think you have to know an awful lot about financial management. To me, arts administration crosses a bridge between the creative and the practical and your time is spent working out how to make the creative ideas practical. And on top of that, you must be able to make those ideas work within the resources that you've got. So to me, that is the real skill of arts administration. In terms of producing art, you have to be able to make the creative work with the money and resources that are available and often times it's actually the resources that make or break the project.

How do you stay inspired when you have to work within those boundaries?

By always thinking in the future. I spend a lot of time thinking about what's coming rather than what has happened. You can learn a lot from what you've done, but the creativity is about dreaming up what comes next.

So when you're creating a show, what does that timeline look like? How far into the future are we talking?

I'm always listening to music and thinking about it and envisioning how we could stage a musical. I will study the musicals I'm interested in and think "do we have the skills required to get this onto a stage, given the resources that we have?" Sometimes the answer is no and you have to put that aside, but as I said you should always be thinking ahead, and if you feel really strongly about putting on a project, then you're planning how it'll fit together. A lot goes into that initial artistic planning. Timeframe wise, next year's musicals have been on my mind for up to three years already!

The Production Company creates incredible performances on really short rehearsal timeframes - from nothing to everything in a matter of weeks! How does it happen so fast and so effectively?

You know, that is never an obstacle. I credit the artists: you put out the challenge and they can meet it. They're aware of the timeframe, so the artist would never come to that first rehearsal with no idea of what's about to happen: they get sent all their music and parts before they start, and while it's only two weeks in the rehearsal room and one week in the theatre, if you use that time very sensibly, it works. We have, I think, developed a good technique for that timeframe wherein we're not wasting anyone's time and the work gets made quite clearly and efficiently. Some of the works we've created have been really major musicals, which is a testament to all the professionals. Today you have to be very good to make it to the top and the people we're working with are very well-trained and disciplined. It's very tricky to be at the top of the profession - the musicals being written now have a much greater emphasis on dance, for instance. In the 70s and 80s, the big musicals didn't have the dance content that musicals had in the 50s and 60s, and I think we're seeing that it's back again.

I think now there is pressure on all artists - musicians, opera singers, musical theatre performers - to have skills outside the traditional training: why do you think this is and what do young people need to know about the industry?

It's happening because the business is getting more competitive and people are becoming more brilliant! And there is much better training than there has ever been. The most important thing for young people to have is a real commitment to the industry. They really have to love it to make it worthwhile and I think it's also important for young people who want to pursue an artistic career to do so without an expectation of being a superstar or making a fortune: you do it because this is what you want to spend your life doing. Then again, not every first-rate person can make it, so I think it's important to know that there are all sorts of other areas within the industry that you can find a job if you're not on the stage. You've got to be realistic: I think I was very lucky that I figured out I wasn't going to have a career as a professional musician at around the age of 22, no matter how hard I worked, so I was able to readjust my sights and carry on. That's what you've got to do.

For young people who are interested in getting into the production side of the industry, how do you recommend approaching it?

Well as I say so often: knowledge is no burden. The more you know, the better equipped you are. Also, there are all sorts of other areas you can explore - you may have trained as a performer, so you could be great at stage management or you could try production. There are lots of career paths you can follow and try. I think my musical training gave me a very real appreciation of the kinds of commitments artists make and from an administrator's point of view it's very important to understand that so you can best support the artists in what they're doing.

You're about to start the rehearsal period for Jesus Christ Superstar, The Production Company's second show for 2017. What do these initial rehearsals look like?

There are two rehearsal spaces that we're working in and rehearsals go from 10am-6pm, 6 days a week, and each couple of days the schedule is set based on how well the last rehearsals have gone. This means the things that need to be rehearsed get rehearsed and we're not stuck on a weekly schedule that can't be moved. What we try and do is run act one at the end of the first week, then run act two at the end of the second. They're long hours but when you do your musical theatre training, this is what you're training for. It takes stamina, but by the time you make it onto the professional stage, it's in your genes!

In Conversation: Paul Smith

Fancy Me Dead is the kind of dark comedy that audiences scramble to catch on TV – full of twists and turns, complex relationships and fatal consequences. Can you tell me about how the story developed and what about the plot lends itself to the operatic genre?

The story developed from an unusual spot - the middle. While talking with the singers, Jermaine Chau and Taryn Srhoj, about what kind of show I could write for them, I told them about an idea I had where a business meeting is interrupted by two dead legs falling onto the stage, which they loved as it was a bit cabaret and a bit opera. So from there I worked in two directions simultaneously trying to figure out how we get to the legs and where we go after them. Whose legs are they? How did this person die? It was quite satisfying for me because the show has this almost mirror image built into the score in terms of motives and scenes and the idea of a reflection became really important during our rehearsal process when discussing the two main characters. The women are larger than life and they both have delusions of grandeur so an operatic score with operatic singing is the best way for them to express themselves. The intrigue, sinister intent and raw emotions are such operatic tropes. I also had these two amazing singers and had to find moments for them to show off, so there are two classic show stopping arias in the score as well.

The story line of this new opera makes comment on several major facets of contemporary society: money, gender, power and relationships. Moving forward, what do you think opera and classical music’s role can be in speaking on political and social events, and in this light what would you like to see developing composers focusing on?

Opera is unique in that it deals with musically representing many cultures but unfortunately those cultures largely come from the prism of 19th century straight white men. Of course we can work against that view in production but it imposes many limits. Things like yellow-face, and even black-face, are still commonplace at the opera, which horrifies me! Most of our art music culture is wrapped up in a system of private patrons, which I find very problematic. I know it's an impossible situation for the arts, but these systems reward and entertain a specific type of cultural norm. I would encourage developing composers to really consider where they want to sit in this system and to find ways to invite unexpected parties to the table when they can. It is very clear to me which music organisations in Australia value diversity and which do not.

This iteration of your opera, which was first presented at the Festival of Voices, features an expanded score for the Sirius Chamber Ensemble. Can you tell me about the process of re-orchestrating the piece and what it has been like working and rehearsing with the ensemble?

Having worked with Sirius before, I was able to speedily arrange the piano part. I know the players well and know what they like to do with their instruments. They are all such committed musicians too. The core players, Ian Sykes, Mel Coleman and Alison Evans, were present at the show's Sydney premiere in 2015 and Blush Opera is all about being part of a supportive music community. The colours from the ensemble have allowed the plot to thicken! Every line of text now has another element that tells the audience what is a sarcastic joke, what is a biting criticism or what is a deep regret. The singers and I are so amazed at what the ensemble and our conductor, Luke Spicer, are bringing out in the score. The show has a more complicated impact.

When you’re working on a new piece of music what is your writing style and process? Are you an avid user of any particular notation software or do you stick with pencil and manuscript?

I normally start with things that are non-musical, which might sound a bit odd! My academic research is into connections between music and other forms of art so I tend to start somewhere visual or verbal. Many of my pieces come from novels, paintings, films or TV shows and this gives me a range of words or concepts which I then want to put into a piece of music. I have two main methods when writing the music though. Sometimes I sit at the piano and play with gestures like melodic fragments, a chord, or a rhythmic figure and other times I try to be far away from the piano and use software like Sibelius: this helps me change my style so everything doesn't follow my hand patterns. Sometimes I use manuscript paper, but I often don't know how to develop the ideas since it's not my normal mode of practice - the ideas become too isolated for me.

The second university semester is fast approaching, meaning the submission of composition portfolios will be front of mind for many students. Do you have any advice for those working on finalising a body of writing to present?

I teach composition at the University of New England and one thing that we often discuss is how monolithic writing music can seem to be. It can feel like this enormous endeavor for student composers who are constantly being shown the most well known and regaled composers and it starts to feel foreign. Don't stress! Good education is about helping you do what you want to do in a successful and creative way. So try to think about what you want to achieve with your music, or what questions you want to ask with your music, and put that at the front of your portfolio. You may not have all the tools yet to do what you want to do, but you can ask for the right kind of help. Also, be ready for your portfolio to be changed. Music is not fixed and a score is not the final destination for a piece. Take suggestions on board and play with your music.

Finally, writer’s block can sometimes crop up exactly when you don’t have time to deal with it! When you’re working to a deadline, how do you push through any feelings of being “stuck” with a piece?

This is always tricky! I'm an unusually collaborative composer so I'm often working with other artists while I compose and that means the creative process is often very dynamic. I enjoy being in a space with writers, actors or visual artists. But! When I'm having trouble coming up with new musical ideas I often go back to my favourite composers and listen to their music for a while. It tends to get me thinking in largely musical terms and then helps me generate new ideas faster. My current musical crush is Dobrinka Tabakova. Whenever I listen to her music I come away with a bunch of ideas. My aesthetic is different to hers, so the ideas are always filtered through my process in the end. I guess that's just another form of collaboration.

In Conversation: The Letter String Quartet

The Letter String Quartet's next performance sees you collaborate with Richard J Frankland, who is known for his fantastic storytelling as well as his writings and music. Can you tell me about how you first met Richard and how this program came about?

About this time last year, Andrew O’Grady, Richard’s bass player in The Charcoal Club, recommended me as a string player for a concert with The Charcoal Club at The Melbourne Recital Centre. Since then I have played a few shows with Richard and we have started to develop a way of working together. I asked Richard to perform with the quartet because I knew his voice would sound amazing with the texture of the strings and I wanted to hear the stories contained in his songs in a bit of a stripped back way.

TLSQ is known for creating new and exciting works within and around the traditional string quartet soundworld, with each member singing and composing for the group. How did the ensemble come to be and how has it developed since your earliest rehearsals?

The seed of the quartet began after we had done a recording session for James Cecil (Super Melody & Architecture in Helsinki) playing disco strings. At that stage it was a trio with me, Steph and Zoe. Eventually we asked Sue Simpson to join us on violin but sadly she moved up north in 2015 so the next stop was Lizzy Welsh on violin. I suppose we have started to work out how to play with our strengths as individuals in the ensemble and as a whole ensemble. Working with other musicians and composers in the last few years has helped us to refine our sound on a technical level as we have had to work out how to play new sounds rather than follow the mould of how a string quartet should sound.

You began your training as a singer before moving into the viola - how has that influenced the repertoire you listen to and choose to perform?

My listening is very varied although I do listen to a lot of pop music and I always have. My initial experiences performing music were in bands and playing in pubs. The thing I love about playing with the quartet is the opportunity to play more dynamic, subtle and complex music. I am very taken by the idea of a perfect song but I also love really abstract and complex music.

How do you approach programming a season of works, as you are doing for the Melbourne Recital Centre's TLSQ season this year? What makes a great program?

I try and programme shows that I would like to see: I like concerts that have an element of diversity in them - maybe there is a nice tonal piece next to an abstract textured improvisation. Really, the thing that the quartet is drawn to is working with people whose music we like and are inspired by. This is regardless of style, so it often does lead to a concert programme that contains that diversity of genre.

What does a regular rehearsal look like for TLSQ? How do you structure your time, particularly leading up to a performance?

It really depends on what the content of the concert is. All of us do a lot of freelance work so sometimes it is hard to get everyone together as much as we would like. We do like eating and drinking tea and coffee during rehearsals: bonding over a shared love of eating has been very important to our progress and process! When we have enough time it is great spending rehearsals fine tuning things that are going to help us in not only learn the repertoire but, also help in building the cohesion of our ensemble playing – so taking a close look at our tuning and locking in together on rhythmic passages.

For young musicians hoping to play as part of an ensemble and collaborate with other musicians and artists, how do you recommend getting started?

I would recommend playing with lots of people and being proactive about creating your own opportunities. If there are some musicians that you think you might click with, try and create a scenario where you play together. Opportunities for further ensembles and performances often come from your community of music colleagues.

In Conversation: Jonathan Xian

Firstly, congratulations for winning 3MBS' The Talent! Can you tell us a little about the experience of being part of the competition and what it meant to come away as the winner?

Thank you! I found performing on the Talent to be so much fun and the comments I received from the judges were very helpful. Everyone at 3MBS has been super friendly as well. As several of my friends have previously performed on past seasons of the Talent, I decided that this year was my turn to try it. Honestly, the experience of performing was wonderful for me and to be selected as the winner for this season was just icing on the cake!

Performing on the radio is nothing like playing in front of an audience and there are so many things you have to be aware of that wouldn't usually play on your conscious in any other environment. What did you learn about giving your best performance live on air and what were the biggest differences to giving a traditional performance on stage?

It is quite an odd feeling when you're playing in a small, empty studio, and yet you know that your performance is reaching the ears of an indefinite number of listeners, who are tuned in from various locations. Waiting for a cue to start playing immediately at the beginning of each piece was also something foreign to me. Of course, there is the daunting idea that any slips you make will be permanently stored in digital form, which is the same for all recorded performances, but at the same time you're not worried about how you look, or other aspects of traditional performance etiquette. I was also able to invite my family into the studio to watch my performance, which made everything a whole lot more relaxed and enjoyable.

You're keeping pretty busy at the moment, studying not only a Bachelor of Music but also a Bachelor of Law at Monash University! How do you juggle the two and have you found that the way you study one influences how you approach the other?

It hasn't always been easy to juggle the two, especially before exams or important performances or auditions. Sometimes I do wish there were more hours in the day in which to get everything done! But it has taught me to study and practice efficiently, and always with an objective in mind. Having to switch between the analytical side of the brain required to study the law, and the creative and emotional side required to play music is a tricky thing to get used to. Nonetheless, it is always refreshing to be able to focus on things that are completely different, which tends to provide that extra bit of motivation.

When preparing for a competition or recital, what are your steps to feeling performance-ready? Do you have any tried and true methods of preparation?

One thing I always need to do is to have at least one practice run under performance conditions, usually a week or so before the performance. Setting up a video camera alwaysgives me a bit of extra pressure, and allows me to watch myself afterwards in order to pick up anything I may not have otherwise noticed. I've also come to realise the importance of getting enough sleep and its effect on my playing, so I try to set aside a few extra hours in the days leading up to the performance. I still get nervous right before performing, but doing these things and practising well helps with feeling bit more confident.

Between study for your two degrees and working, it must be hard to find the time to wind down! How do you like to spend the precious hours you do get to use for downtime?

On most days, I enjoy just being at home with my family, not necessarily doing anything special, but just relaxing after dinner or watching television. (I'm an avid follower of Masterchef!) We’ve also just come back from a holiday in Europe, which was incredibly scenic. When I have more time to myself, I also like to dance. In high school I was passionate about breakdancing, which I know seems terribly incompatible with the piano, and until last year I used to be quite involved with a student-run dance club called Flare Dance Ensemble. Although I'm not so involved anymore, I still find dancing from time to time to be very therapeutic, as well as a form of exercise which is both fun and involves creativity.

Finally, when you're at the piano keyboard facing a particularly tricky passage or bar, how do you tackle it? Break it down for us!

I find that playing slowly, in small sections and hands separately is usually key in working out the most comfortable hand positions to play with. It is probably also a good idea to memorise the music as early as possible, by identifying patterns in the music and analysing its structure. I find that after I am able play fluently with each hand, it then becomes much easier to reduce the tempo again and put two hands together from memory. Of course, tricky passages come in all sorts of varieties, and there is no single, universal method for tackling all of them. So I think it is important to be flexible and to design your approach based on the music in front of you!

In Conversation: Linda Stuckey

We caught up with Linda at the Arts Centre Melbourne while the Hong Kong Philharmonic were on their Australian tour earlier in 2017.

You've been with the Hong Kong Phil for over 15 years now, having started your career with them after finishing your studies. Now that you're based in Hong Kong permanently, do you get back to Australia very often?

I played here in Melbourne with the Australian World Orchestra and that was a really lovely experience, but this is the first time I've been here with my own orchestra from Hong Kong. I grew up in Sydney and went to the Canberra School of Music before moving to Manchester to do some post-grad study. I actually auditioned for the Hong Kong Phil job in London, and after winning the audition I moved and didn't look back. At the time I thought that it would be a nice first job and a great opportunity, but I’m still there 20 years later!

Were you expecting to stay on in Hong Kong for so long?

No not at all, I was very much expecting to be there for just a couple of years as I sort of made my way home from the United Kingdom. I definitely knew that it was a wonderful opportunity, but as a young music student not knowing anything about Hong Kong or the orchestra I just thought it was a little bit closer to home and it would be a great experience. And then the years just kept going along! I ended up meeting my now-husband here - he’s also in the orchestra. We have three children now and are extremely settled in Hong Kong, but I will always think of Australia as home.

You've had quite a bit of experience travelling away from home for your music - to study and then later for work. Can you tell me about your initial travels?

As a young musician in the days that I was studying, I had the opportunity to do several youth orchestra tours, which were wonderful experiences, but were always more short term kind of adventures. The biggest endeavour in my time as a student was to move to the UK to do some post-grad study, and at that time I was probably quite naive. Manchester at that time could be a bit rough and I was very aware of things like that. At the time I had some really good school friends living in London so I was very much in touch with them and I was very lucky to have family members and my parents came around at Christmas time, which helped a lot. The atmosphere around the Royal Northern College of Music was very warm, with a friendly atmosphere amongst the students and amongst staff. I never felt alone and homesick or worried about anything. I think the bigger challenge for me was feeling safe getting around on my own!

Figuring out how to get around is such a huge learning curve when you're somewhere new!

Actually, getting to my audition for the Hong Kong Phil was a pretty big challenge! I was in Manchester but the auditions were being held in London, so I had to figure out how to get myself there on my shoestring student budget. My audition time was scheduled around 10am, so I turned up at the train station in Manchester to get on the early train, and realised it was sort of the peak hour for people commuting. So it was the high peak fare time, and I couldn’t afford it! I remember standing there thinking that I just couldn’t pay for this train ticket, and I knew the cutoff time for the higher fare was something like 11am, where suddenly the fares dropped to a much lower price and I didn't know what to do because either way, I would miss the audition. I was somehow able to contact the staff members of the Hong Kong Phil to say that I was very sorry, but I wasn't going to be able to get there at my scheduled time and very luckily they said to just get on any train and come a little bit later in the afternoon. So I found my way there eventually! So really being on and managing a budget is something I quickly had to learn about while overseas.

Phew! What a story! Tell me about that audition - did the train situation change how you played?

I think I was very lucky at that time to go into that audition room with a pretty in-check attitude: of course, I wanted to go for it and knew how fabulous it would be to win, but it wasn’t a make or break situation. I didn’t have all my eggs in one basket thinking that my life depended on the outcome. I think that's the best way to go in because you’re just that much more relaxed. I mean, I didn’t have another job waiting for me and I didn’t really know what was about to happen when my studies finished but I guess I wasn’t in a situation where I was really really dependent on having to win that job. Then the venue makes a difference - this audition wasn't in a concert hall, it was in a hired venue. The maestro at the time was there, and some management people, so there was no big panel of orchestra musicians to play in front of. That’s the way the Hong Kong orchestra recruits: they go around to the many cities looking for players, record the auditions, then go back and make their decision. After playing in the orchestra for 20 years, you feel like you can almost do the job with your eyes closed and it’s not an issue, but to go into an audition and prove yourself - that is very much a skill.

So now you've done it for 20 years, what does an average day look like in the Hong Kong Phil?

It involves travelling from home to rehearsal venue, early enough so you can warm up. If you turn up on the dot, you don't have the time to unwind and prepare, so you need to be there a bit ahead of time to get into a nice calm state of mind. In Hong Kong, we would normally have two rehearsals in a day: 10:30-1:00pm, then a one-hour lunch break, then 2-4:30pm. On paper, it doesn’t look like a big day with lots of hours, but there’s a lot of personal preparation that is necessary.

And around those hours you've also got another job: mum! How do you juggle working in the orchestra and being at home with your kids and finding some downtime just for yourself?

It's a real juggle: you have to prioritise family life but still be able to turn up, tune, sit on stage and deliver as if you've got absolutely nothing else going on. You can't ever come in and make an excuse - I don't think you can ever really do that as an orchestral musician. You've really got to nail that consistency and know that you can turn up and sit in that chair and deliver no matter what has been going in the hour before you got there. My husband also plays in the orchestra and that helps - we are both on the same schedule and you get to understand the other person's work and stresses. Then there are difficulties, like us both being away from the family at the same time, but when you think about it, we're extremely lucky to be doing something we love so much! After all these years I've never had a day where I've thought "why do I have to go to work today?" There's always something new and we have wonderful colleagues who have known us for so long! When I saw that little ad saying the Hong Kong Phil auditions were happening in London, a part of me thought well, that's a big undertaking, is it worth it? And I'm so glad I did! So I would say: go for everything. If you don't turn up, you've got no chance whatsoever and you never know - they might have been looking for someone just like you!

In Conversation: Stefan Dohr

While Stefan Dohr was in Melbourne, we sent horn player and arts administrator Tim Hannah to meet him for a chat about all things horn, practicing and how sailing can help your playing.

You've had a long and varied career on the horn. What drew you to the instrument in the first place? What was it that made you want to pick up the horn and play?

In a way, I just picked up the horn and played! That's how it started - with a little hunting horn. A relative had come to visit my family and passed it around for us all to have a try. It turned out that I was the one who got the most notes out of it, so she gave it to me to keep. I had been learning the viola during that time period, and soon after I had been given the hunting horn, I had the opportunity to hear the German horn player Hermann Baumann playing a nice Christmas concert with organ in the town where I lived. I immediately thought, "that sounds better than my viola playing!"

You've also had quite a varied career in terms of the type of music that you play: solo recitals, chamber music and your role with the Berlin Philharmonic. What does a day in the life of Stefan Dohr look like?

There are never two days that look alike! Sitting in the orchestra is the most consistent routine, as it generally doesn't change drastically: there are two rehearsals a day - one from 10am to 12:30pm, then another from 4:15 to 6:45. In a week there are two days like this, then three additional concert days. The orchestra keeps me very busy, but because the Berlin Philharmonic has two principals, I only play half of the 130 concerts a year. Around that orchestral time there is more work to be done, though! I might be rehearsing new pieces with Ensemble Wien-Berlin or the Berlin Philharmonic Octet for upcoming chamber concerts, and then of course there is solo repertoire preparation. Then occasionally there is the work that goes into preparing for a residency like ANAM, which has been great fun.

Something I noticed about the programming for your first ANAM program, Fanfare & Fantasies, was that you included a number of works that were classic brass ensemble works, like the Fanfare for the Common Man, alongside works by more contemporary and living composers. How important is that kind of programming to you? Why did you make those decisions?

I thought that perhaps some of the young brass players I was working with may not yet have had the opportunity to play those classical fanfares and I do think it's quite good to get to know these pieces. Outside of those classics, I think it's important to experience working on music by yourself, like three of the brass players did with the mouthpiece piece by Zuraj (Quiet Please, for three brass mouthpieces) When you play this kind of repertoire you find out just how far you can go, how difficult it can get and ultimately, you get the satisfaction of mastering the challenge. That's what I experienced when I was playing in the Ensemble Modern. There were moments when I thought, "I'm going to die!", because we would rehearse for ten hours a day and it was all new and contemporary stuff, sometimes without traditional notation, just signs. But then to bring it all together, watching individual sounds and noises become a musical piece - that's incredible. It’s something every young music student should have the chance to experience.

Speaking of your education and your early professional years - the education system in Germany is quite different to the Australian system. Can you speak a little bit about your own training and education? Do you have any advice for young Australians that are looking at Germany as the next step in their career post-university?

In Germany you can start studying music and fine arts at a university or Hochschule conservatory when you are sixteen. So I actually never finished high school, instead going directly into studying horn. At nineteen I got my first job and thus, I didn't finish my studies either. When I heard there was a vacancy for the principal horn position at Frankfurt Opera, I went to the audition and got the job. Getting a job this early is not the usual way of things though, I have to admit.

Many things I‘ve learned simply by playing. The repertoire system in German opera houses is thrilling for someone who starts his professional life in the orchestra pit of an opera house, because you have to sight-read many evenings which is not necessarily the easiest thing for a beginner. Actually, what I recommend to students is to not only look at the university route, but to also be focused on self-education by trying out as much music as you can. I mean, you don't just have to play Baroque, Classical and Romantic. You can do contemporary, you can do pop, you can do whatever you want - try it all and play, play, play. While you play, try to identify new problems and react to them and solve them. Or course, a proper music education is essential, but in the end you can only learn how to play the horn by actually playing the horn.

Can you speak a little about the culture of the Berlin Philharmonic, your role in the orchestra and the relationship you have with your colleagues?

Some years ago, I became acting-chairman of the orchestra and it was fascinating, in part because of the demands due to the democratic structures we have in the orchestra. We don't have the usual type of an orchestra management. There is, of course, an artistic office and a general manager, but everything connected to the interests and concerns of the orchestra is managed by the chairman and by the instrumental sections themselves. It has been done this way quite successfully for more than 130 years. As an orchestra chairman, you find out how many rules there are and you realize where the money comes from and why the money comes – when it does and when it doesn't. You decide where you want to go on tour with the orchestra and sometimes have to debate why you want to go there. There are many more decisions to make as the orchestra participates in deciding about which guest conductors and soloists should be invited. Finally, as chairman you also hold responsibility for the Orchestra Academy, for the Society of the Friends of the Philharmonie, for maintaining contact with the sponsors and for the education program. You need to have very open ears and a strong determination. As much as I appreciated the insight and the experience, I decided to step down from the role as chairman after a couple of years, so to have more time for my solo projects again and to give other colleagues of the orchestra the chance to experience the position.

You're speaking there about a lot of skills that are not horn playing. How important is it for young musicians to have some of these skills, like programming and administration?

It depends on what you want to do. If you want to get a job in an orchestra, and simply sit back and play the music on your stand, then okay, maybe you don't need any more than that. But if you want to become a good chamber musician, then you have to put together programs and promote them – then you should learn as much as you can. You have to talk to people to get money for projects that you wish to develop. Even if you are in the orchestra, you can do so many things besides turning up and playing. It's good for you, I think.

It's interesting hearing from someone who has followed a more traditional career path that those entrepreneurial skills are still important.

And getting more and more important. With social media and all of these other things, it is so important that you look into it and find out what is important to you – but also, what's not important. I think the young musicians of the future will have to do that much more than my generation.

Speaking of the young musicians of the future, and the future of this classical music tradition: in Germany there is a long tradition of classical music that is ingrained into the culture, a lot more so than it is in a country like Australia. What are your thoughts on the future of classical music in this digital, fast-paced world?

I don’t see so much difference coming up in the future. I think there are rather similar structures running on slightly different and slightly faster terms. It’s true that while classical music used to be part and parcel of anybody who considered himself "educated“, it has clearly suffered from neglect over the last few decades. So it is not a system that’s running naturally by itself anymore, which is difficult, but then again there are also new opportunities coming up for promoting classical music. Basically, you have to sell something. When offering something to other people you have to generate their interest and get their attention. If you‘re passionate about what you’re doing, people will acknowledge it, appreciate it and listen to you! But if you don’t really like what you do, then it’ll become rather difficult to convince other people to like it. This is one of the very important things: you must be confident in what you do. The big advantage now is that you have all the new technology to assist you. It’s true that, like many other aspects of our lives, the classical music scene has become fast-paced, but it’s also been given many new ways to operate.

In Europe, we can definitely see a growing interest in orchestral concerts again and I would love to see a growing interest in chamber music concerts, too. It’s not happening at the moment, but I think it might in the future. Seeing an audience like recently at ANAM's Mostly Mozart concert was very inspiring. I think the audience loved it and it was great for the players to have the opportunity.

So, you do take time away from the horn to rest?

Yes! I like cooking, I like sailing, I like walking Lucky and I like spending time just with my family. I like that sometimes, especially when I go sailing, there’s no time to think about music or next week’s schedule. My brain needs little breaks in between.

Do you ever find that when you’re sailing, some of those necessary skills transfer to your music?

It does, it does! On these fast Catamarans you have to react quite quickly to gusts. Whatever comes up, you have to react quickly. Otherwise you capsize! It's the same thing for the horn: if you split a note and don’t react fast enough with your skills, you might have little accidents.

Horn is a notoriously difficult. Many players have talked about it as anything from an animal that you tame to just a tool that you use for expression. What are your thoughts on the instrument itself and your relationship with it?

I think there is a difference between the music and the instrument. How you deal with your instrument? That's about your technical ability. But to transform printed notes into the music you want to make you need a clear vision for the melody you want to play in both your head and in your ear. And if some technical problem comes your way, of course you have to solve it. That’s the idea: I’m not playing a solo because I can play it bases of my technical possibilities, I play it how I want to play it and then adjust my technical abilities based on that. I think the point is not to practice, practice, practice just for the obtainment of technical skills. The point is to express yourself by playing music and then practice to make the music sound exactly the way you want it to. Through all of this, the horn is your partner, your comrade, your ally. But unlike a string player's relationship to their instrument, I get a new horn every once in a while, so the relationship to one specific horn is always temporary.

You’ve spoken previously about practicing scales for music, not practicing scales for scales…

Yes - and how to get over changes in the embouchure and things like that. Of course you have to do your daily exercises a bit… or rather, quite a lot! Of course, that’s one point. But then the other point comes: how do I want this phrase to sound and why it isn’t sounding like it should?

You could be said to be at the peak of your career. Do you still have mentors that you go to for advice and honest feedback or do you work in an ongoing collaborative way with your colleagues?

For me, playing chamber music is the perfect exchange, because if I do something weird, someone will instantly tell me! Then, sometimes you make a recording of a concerto and you think, “oh, there are some things I should take care of again”. You listen and hear all the things you hadn’t heard while you played. Sometimes you think you've done it really well and it turns out it’s not very good at all! And orchestral playing, of course, is totally controlled by your colleagues.

We’re coming into July now, which is exam period here in Australia. Do you have any tips, tricks or ideas for how you prepare for a solo recital? What’s your method?

My advice is to play as many different things as possible and to play as many times as possible in front of people and in bigger rooms. You might sound good in a small room and then you'll go into a bigger room and all of a sudden you feel totally lost. That is a problem that can only be solved by facing it head on. In a bigger room you need a completely different control of your breath because it’s more demanding: you have to create more sound! And sound doesn’t come out easily. If you’re not accustomed to performing, it is easy to get frightened and then if you’re frightened it blocks your neck and your muscles get tense. Therefore, you should play as often as you can in front of people – anyone you can find! If it’s your parents, fine. If it’s your grandparents, fine. If it’s your cat and you name it Karajan, that might provide an extra challenge.

Music Business 101: Tax Time

As we approach yet another ‘end of financial year’, I wonder how many of you are excited about the need to get your tax affairs in order? Maybe not?

If excited seems the wrong concept, how does "resigned-to-the-fact-that-at-some-point-not-too-far-off-I'm-going-to-have-to-think-about-this" sound? The questions of how much income you earnt and which expenses you can claim as relevant deductions will surely have crept into your consciousness, at least. And good thing to, because we're at the pointy end of the financial year.

So first off, a question for you: how has your record keeping been in 2016/2017? Have you kept a copy of all your invoices that you sent out and have you summarised them into a spreadsheet or made a list? If not, abandon this article briefly and make that list. Go on.

Then there are the expenses that you can claim as deductions against your income. If you have had a job working for an employer as well as working via your ABN you may need to determine what expenses relate to which income.

Not sure how to figure out which expenses can be claimed as a business related expense? There are a few lists that will help - the ATO have one that is available here, or you can check the list available in Rehearsal Mag's Music Business Basics eBook. Whichever way you go, make sure you're keeping an expenses spreadsheet for convenience when tax time comes around. Forgot about spreadsheets this time round? Get a jump start on 2017/18 and build your income and expense tracker right now! Take a second break. We'll wait for you.

Built that tracker? Excellent. Due to the inconsistent nature of a musician’s income, the ATO has special rules regarding your ABN business. In the early years of setting up your business, your expenses may have exceeded your income, so you will be able to immediately claim the loss made, if you have less than $40,000 of income from an employer via PAYG payment summaries. It is important to keep a track of all your expenses during the course of the financial year so that they can be taken into account when preparing your tax (so thank goodness you just made that tracker, right?)

For anyone that has not lodged for a few years, it is always recommended to catch up sooner rather than later. While it may seem unimportant, not having lodged your tax may cause you problems when you want to borrow money through a bank for a large purchase such as a car or home. Then, you will find yourself in a huge rush to pull all your information together. The feedback from clients who have taken the plunge and gotten everything ‘sorted’ is always that it feels like a great weight off their minds. Some lucky clients have also found they were entitled to quite healthy refunds, which made the whole experience even more worthwhile! While no promises can be made that a refund will always be the outcome, it is always recommended to catch up and keep up to date. So go and dig out that shoe box of receipts and let's start lodging.

If you decide to lodge your own tax return via the ATO website remember that you have until 31 October 2017. After that date, it will be considered late and the ATO may apply both penalties and interest if there is an amount owing to the ATO. If you choose to lodge through a registered tax agent, you may be entitled to extend your lodgement until 15 May 2018, unless you have multiple outstanding tax returns or you lodged your 2016 income tax return late. It's really important that you check this date with your chosen tax agent, so you don't get caught out with dates!

In Conversation: Ross Edwards

Can you tell me about your first commission?

My first commission came from Musica Viva when I was a student! There was a lovely woman running it called Regina Ridge, who called me in and told me they were interested in commissioning me to write a piano trio. And she handled the situation very skilfully when I replied, “I don’t want to write a piano trio, I want to write for nine instruments including a flute and a harp!” She said, very kindly, that composers know best and I could go ahead and do that, which I did though it never got performed. Then I thought I better not be so arrogant after that!

You’ve been working with saxophonist Amy Dickson on a composition that was recently performed at the Musica Viva Festival. Can you tell me about your work with Amy?

This was the third time that I’ve composed for Amy, who is a wonderful saxophonist. On top of that she’s also very clever and entrepreneurial and, because of the limited saxophone repertoire, is creating a lot of new things through transcribing works and getting composers to write new works for her, which is where I come in. This work I did finish some time ago, actually – I had to play it on the piano a little bit before to remind myself how it went! This particular work is written for saxophone and string quartet, and the two before it were large concertos. I love writing for people like Amy, who have a great stage presence and are happy to move and dance on stage. It really brings another dimension, I believe - a part of performance that we lost over 100 years ago. When I’d written those first two pieces for Amy she said, “you haven’t got anything for string quartet and saxophone, have you?” and I said “well, no!” But I had a commission coming up from Kim Williams whom I’ve known for many years, and who is very interested in all the arts, and I thought it would be an interesting idea to do a series of songs and dances for Amy, where she could either play all eight pieces in a bracket or pick and choose between them. It has been a very special process.

When you have the opportunity to work with the musicians in the lead up to a performance, what does that process look like?

It’s a very interesting process, and one I really depend upon. Composers and performers have to get along and ask each other questions during that time. There is a great collaboration process, where we discuss different dynamics and articulations and generally try and understand each other. I think those who play my music seem to like it and they get it right in the end, but they always say, “why do you make it so difficult?” I always sort of apologise, but they get it right. Most Australian musicians are used to my quirks now – I enjoy working with sounds from wildlife and really going back to the origins of music. In the process right now, we are gradually putting it all together, and I’m very pleased with how it all sounds - even in a tiny room with no windows! When we hear it for the first time in the hall I’ll only make changes if they’re drastically needed, but I hope we’ve covered everything.

Those sounds that you’ve become known for – the ones that reference nature and insects and dance – where do those ideas come from?

I wander around sort of singing, actually. All the time! Essentially, the keyboard is the focus for me, and I have a great big board stuck up over it. As I come up with ideas I stick them up on the board, and then I can piece those ideas together to make the piece. Sometimes I move the board to different parts of the room and have a walk around to look at it. I used to wake up in the night with ideas and write them down, but I don’t do that anymore – if the idea is good, it will come back.

You are a full-time freelance composer, but you began your career by teaching composition. Can you tell me about that transition, and your first experiences as a freelancer?

I will tell you how it happened: I was teaching at the conservatorium for a time, but being in an institution wasn’t for me. I thought that I’d love to get out of there and freelance, so I asked my wife and she said okay! Then I consulted an accountant and he said it would probably be possible, so I thought I should and I did. When I announced that I was leaving I had the most wonderful feeling of liberation. Of course I’ve continued teaching here and there, but I haven’t been bound to a particular institution. I’ve learnt a lot, like when you’re looking for work you can’t always write particularly esoteric or academic material and you have to be prepared to write for theatre or film. And that is how it began – I’ve never looked back! It’s a little bit different now though, because when I was studying there were only a handful of other people, but I recently gave a lecture to 60 people studying composition!

So when the odds are stacked against you in that way, being up against so many other composers, how do you make your music stick?

Well, you can use all sorts of gimmicks that don’t last very long. I hope people don’t do that. I’ve heard some students who are very good, but even so, getting people interested in commissioning is tricky. When I first started out, even before I freelanced, there were places you could go to get support. I think then, once people thought you were okay they’d be willing to support you, and I was fortunate to get that kind of support when I was very needy. I’ve also had a lot of support from my family – I remember saying to my wife years ago when the work was not flowing in, “maybe I should go back to university," and she replied, “don’t be bloody stupid.” She is my manager and internet person – anything that’s too hard, I send to her.

That’s a fantastic thing to have – I imagine building a support system quite aside from those people who help you financially is extremely important. And that must help you when you’re dealing with that dreaded thing: deadlines. How do you deal with working to a time budget?

I’ve found that in the past if I’m working on a piece with a deadline in mind and I’ve spent quite an amount of time dealing with a particularly tricky bar, I always think “can I afford to continue working on this?” And you know, it’s often worth it in the long run! I do like to work well ahead of schedule though, because I don’t like to be in a rush. When I was working for Peter Sculthorpe he would work to the eleventh hour, and we would be copying all night until we collapsed. That worked fine for him and works for lots of other composers I know, but it certainly doesn’t work for me – I just go to pieces.

I think that the philosophy of creating something both beautiful and useful to society is incredibly compelling. But how can you measure that?

Well, there is so much diversity. I heard a work by a young woman that was absolutely beautiful, but had it been written 20 years ago it would have been tossed away. The simplicity wasn’t allowed in the 20th century, but we’re starting to accept that again which I think is a step in the right direction. On the other hand, you can write something simple that is absolutely boring, so I suppose you’ve got to have something indefinable… something that will sustain your work and move people.

How do you cope with reviews?

I’ve been both deeply ruined and highly encouraged by reviews, but I think I suddenly realised one day that it was all just nonsense. I think there’s a place for constructive commentary, and if someone has the space to do it and they’re not confined to a small column that is not going to be edited by someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing, then sure! There’s not much you can do to ensure someone will understand your work though – you can announce the concept and the composer and what they are trying to achieve, but as far as I’m concerned, you should let the people go and make up their own mind about it.

What do young composers really need to know now about creating a career in the industry?

I think it’s not just about learning orchestration, but about learning the business side of writing. I think that’s really a sign of the times – if it’s necessary, it’s necessary. I think it’s part of the industry that’s burgeoning, but it does alarm me to some extent for philosophical reasons. I think it’s important to ask what your art is for – is it to get on, is it for reputation, to improve talent? Our society is really moving into a time where we commodify art, and this is where the philosophy comes into it. Art is an investment. Once, the artist was anonymous, and art was considered a skill rather a commodity. You developed that skill until you could unveil your masterpiece proving that you had mastered your art, and that art was something useful and beautiful that society needed and treasured. That’s something we’ve lost in a way. Perhaps all of the institutionalised art machines will explode and there will be a grassroots beginning again, where teaching will be Socratic and real. I think it’s important to not lose sight of that.

Musical Partners: Alicia Crossley and Joshua Hill

Percussion and recorder is a pretty exciting combination! Can you tell me about how you met and what inspired this album of Australian works for the duo?

We met each other when recording Tristan Coelho's "As the Dust Settles" for Alicia's solo CD "Addicted to Bass" in 2011 and formed Duo Blockstix not long after that. We both have a shared love of new music and particularly like being involved in compositional collaborations so the choice to focus on new Australian compositions for our debut album was an easy decision.

Recording an album comes with a lot of planning attached, with a lot happening before you even get into the studio! Can you tell us about what you had to do in the months leading up to your recording sessions?

We had been planning our debut album for just over 2 years, primarily to give the composers time to write their works and for us to workshops ideas and pieces with all the composers. In the months leading up to the recording, we spent time fine-tuning each composition before conducting final workshops with each composer to iron out any niggling issues. The 3 weeks before our recording (or performance) date are always the most intense as we spend time focusing on our ensembles skills and building our performance stamina (each recording day was over 8 hours so we needed to be prepared to perform for a long time without losing focus).

This particular album features works from an amazing lineup of Australian composers. How did you choose the composers you were going work with and how much interaction did you have with each during the writing process?

With the exception of Daniel Rojas, we had previously worked with each of the composers as individual artists (not as Duo Blockstix) so we were familiar with their compositional style. The amount of interaction we had with each composer largely depended on their writing style/process; some composers had very specific ideas about the piece they wanted to write and only require one or two workshops, while others needed a number of workshops to develop their piece.

What has the rehearsal process looked like for the two of you? When you get into the rehearsal room do you generally have a structured plan or do things happen organically?

We would have to say our rehearsals happen quite organically and we certainly don't have a strict timetable when rehearsing. When we are preparing a program for performance, most of the work is done in our individual practise time, so our rehearsal time is spent focusing on ensemble skills such as matching our articulations, balance, and melodic/phrase direction.

Do you have any advice for young musicians hoping to get into the studio themselves to make a recording?

Making a recording is a very satisfying experience and is a bucket-list project for many performers. If you are planning on heading into the studio, be prepared for the mental and physical stamina required, which is very different to a live performance. Know how long you wish to spend on each piece (it is very easy for time to slip away from you in the studio) and have an idea of how you want the overall recording to sound. This last point may sound obvious but a microphone hears thing differently to our ears, so you should have a clear idea of how you want your recording to sound to give your sound engineer the best chance of capturing the recording you want.

In Conversation: Michael Tortoni

I’d love to hear about your musical career journey from tertiary classical studies and playing with the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra to finding your way to jazz. How did this transition happen for you?

I’ve been involved in music all my life in some form or another. As a teenager, I was in a band called Taste – we were signed to Warner and had a few hits. It’s interesting to think of what would have happened if we had kept on going with that and where we’d be now. At that time, everything was by ear: I hadn’t studied music formally in any way and I realised that I should probably start learning about it because music was my whole life. In year 12 I picked up the double bass and practiced like absolute crazy to get into the VCA. I would practice for full days! Luckily I had this very good English teacher who understood how much I wanted to make music work, and she was very supportive of the fact I needed to prioritise practicing. I knew I didn’t want to be in a rock band for the rest of my life, so I auditioned for the College and begun studying and playing classical music. I thought that would be my course – practice and study then audition for the Melbourne Symphony and make a living off that. When I was at the VCA I became exposed to jazz and that was when I really figured out how many great musicians lived in Melbourne.

At this time were you aware that opening a jazz club was something you were interested in doing?

I was aware of the fact that I had to get myself through college! I come from a big Italian family with not much money, so I think I was starting to become aware of the fact that I had to plan for the future, and that feeling coupled with the realisation that there were so many great players in the city really built my desire to build a jazz club. I was working a lot to support myself and I hadn’t found the sort of place that I thought would be satisfying to go after a gig and have a drink and listen to some good music, so I started to think “I’ll do that one day”. It became a bit of a dream. I started to look around at properties sort of vaguely and because of how expensive everything was I thought it’d never happen. Then a serious property crash happened in 1990, where property prices literally halved in one weekend. I went to an auction and nobody was bidding so I said to the agents “is anyone going to bid on this property?” and they told me no one was interested. So, since there was no auction in the end they took me to the bank and asked me to make them an offer, and I made this crazy offer and they said yes! And that was the beginning of Bennett’s Lane.

At this beginning stage of Bennett’s Lane, were you still playing classically at all?

By the time Bennett’s Lane began I had actually moved away from the classical world. I had gotten into the MSO as a casual player, but I had thought I wanted to be a soloist. I did a few concertos with orchestra as a double bass soloist, and I went and studied in Italy to see if I could make it happen, but I realised that it wasn’t really what I wanted to dedicate my life to. When I got back from Italy I decided I wanted to broaden my knowledge and get involved with different genres and play in smaller ensembles. I also wanted to do more improvisation! And then there was Bennett’s Lane. That evolution from rock to classical to jazz and all the people that I met along the way that helped Bennett’s Lane come into existence. I just started calling my friends! When Wynton Marsalis was in town in the early days I remember standing on the side of the stage when he came to perform and saying something like “I suppose you play a lot of these clubs”, and he said, “there aren’t that many clubs like this around the world”. And then goes “just stick to it, you’re on the right track.” We’ve had lots of big internationals since then.

I suppose that’s one of the really special things about a club like Bennett’s lane – you could be anywhere in the world!

I think it was one of those unique clubs. When great things are happening on stage, you could be anywhere in the world – Paris, New York, Chicago. It’s like a jazz capsule. I think Melbourne is a really special place though, it has a great pool of talent and it can really be a world class destination for music. For me it was about being focussed and knowing exactly what I wanted out of the space.

Is programming a skill that you developed by trial and error in those early days of Bennett’s Lane?

Programming is a bit like being a chef in a kitchen! I come from a performance background, and have been playing professionally ever since I was young, so by the time I got through college and established the club, it felt almost like a natural progression. My colleagues were the musicians playing for me, so it didn’t really feel like programming it all! Then I realised sort of by accident that I was the artistic director of the club, and I’ve taken that experience and skill into the Melbourne International Jazz Festival. It’s making a lot of moving parts work together – that’s the skill, I think.

How did all those skills you’d picked up from programming at the club translate into the role you have now at the Festival? You clearly have a natural affinity for the business side of the music industry – has that just been part of the process of growing up a musician?

I’ve been on the board for 16 years, so I’ve seen all of the different sides of the festival, including its evolution. My father was a grocer, and at 10 years old he used to take me to the Victoria Market and so I was watching how those transactions worked and how business was done in a very raw way. I would see how you could get there at 3 in the morning and produce was one price, and at 6am they were a different price. I noticed time decay, and how the value of things changed as time went on. That experience will stay with me forever. I really got to understand his struggles as well, and that sort of propelled me along, giving me the incentive to just go for it.

Your career has seen you make quite a lot of transitions, both in your performance career and then from musician to business owner. I’m really interested to know what it was like to move from classical music to jazz, particularly in relation to improvisation.

I think on some levels I’m still transitioning! I still try to practice daily. I think being in Taste really set me up for life because the other musicians performing with me were seriously talented, and I spent a lot of time watching them solo in an improvised way. Learning about classical music was very different because everything is written and the way you make your mark is more about interpretation than anything else. Unlocking the improvisational aspect of music is like a whole new vocabulary – you can play your own thoughts. Getting to that stage feels like a great achievement: you can play free over a structure and make it your own.

So, for people who are classically trained that would like to move into jazz, are there ways of working towards that in the practice room?

Firstly, I think if you are a classical musician you shouldn’t fear improvisation. You’ve got to really tackle it head on, because once you get it, you’ll have a great sense of freedom and satisfaction. I know many classical musicians who might not even give it a shot because they’re too scared to try, and that’s the biggest problem. If you can play an instrument professionally, you can absolutely improvise, you just need to drop your fear. Practically speaking, the more you develop your ear the better. Learning the jazz vocabulary is really important because the more tools you have at your disposal the easier it will become. Then when you’re playing on stage with a band and someone says take a solo, you’ve got all this information available to you that will help you with your decision making.

In Conversation: Celeste Lazarenko

Victorian Opera's upcoming production of Janáček's Cunning Little Vixen sees you perform the title role in the rarely-heard operatic gem. What was your first experience of this opera, and what has the rehearsal process looked like so far?

The music of Cunning Little Vixen had always been something I’ve been keen to explore, and when VO asked me to be involved I was completely delighted. The opera is so charming and quirky and the role of Vixen is such an immense challenge. Janáček writes for Vixen in small fragments and requires real vocal agility to master the tempi and tuning together. Jack and I have been working musically on the score for months. It's very detailed and intricate.

Cunning Little Vixen is a surreal story about the meeting of two worlds, both the humans and the animals and how their lives intersect. Vixen is on stage most of the show and she is incredibly physical, so for me, it requires as much training as a dancer, and so I try to attend yoga and dance classes as much as I can. She is bright and cheeky and a delight to play.

As part of the preparation I also read the letters from Janáček to Kamilla Stosslova, a married woman who made such an impression on the composer that you can't help but draw parallels between her and the Vixen. His unrequited longing for her is everywhere in the music.

You've performed roles in a great range of operas, from 17th century baroque to the contemporary minimalism of Philip Glass. When you're preparing the music of an upcoming role, what does the process look like for you before you get into the rehearsal room? Does your method differ in any way depending on the style of music?

I've always been drawn to interesting and varied repertoire. Funnily enough I think the most mainstream opera I've performed is Mozart, which is now being considered more specialized! But I like performing things that audiences haven't seen for a while and it allows for new interpretations of works. It can be exciting to reform old assumptions about opera and can let people see things in a new way. It keeps things exciting - even if it's a historical artefact - history may just teach us something new.

The process of preparation is different for each work. It always requires months of learning and I try to start that as early in the process as I can. As I get older I've realised that cramming to get a piece memorised takes so much longer and it's just not worth the stress, and so it just means careful planning to make time to do everything. It often means I'm singing seven days a week, but sometimes that's just what this job requires. That also means listening to my body and my voice to know what the limits are. As much as I like to tell myself I'm robust, I'm not a machine.

I also try to stay physically fit and I think more singers should be serious about this element too as directors become more demanding about physical performance being a requirement. Having a more holistic approach to mind/body/voice, is really important.

Cunning Little Vixen follows the Vixen's journey from youth to adulthood and the learning that happens along the way. In your career journey so far, what have been some of your biggest learnings about the opera industry? Is there anything you wish you had known when you started?

I suppose I wish I had known earlier that so much of what you do and where you end up, is out of your control.

Getting, or not getting, work depends on so many factors, so although you may have great plans for yourself, life can often have other paths and this can be truly heartbreaking sometimes. You have to be honest, this profession is tough and you may not always get what you want.

So, I think you have to learn to be adaptable and accepting of where you end up, and then be incredibly grateful for any opportunities.

And also keep your eyes forward. There are many people in the industry who will tell you where they think you belong. Be realistic with yourself, but don't take everyone's advice. Learn to have your own instinct about these things.

What are some of the biggest challenges of living and working overseas as a professional singer?

One of the biggest challenges for singers is being told that your job is international, but not having a visa to actually fulfil that expectation.

It's an amazing experience to study overseas and I will never forget my time at The Guildhall School of Music and Drama, London. But it completely broke my heart when after living there for eight years, and calling it my home, I was forced to come back to Sydney.

But going overseas is essential to your training. Being just a small fish in a big pond will make you learn new skills quickly and also give you perspective about where you are in the system of the performing arts. It's where you learn to cut your teeth.

For our readers with auditions for roles and coming petitions coming up, do you have any advice on how to make the most of your time in front of the panel?

This is, I hope, some helpful advice for singers not just in singing competitions, but for their general development.

Don’t reach for repertoire outside of your ability. There are too many people in Australia trying to push bigger and bigger rep on singers that are just not ready. Be smart and do what you do best.
Make good sounds. I know that sounds pretty simplistic, but don't get obsessed about getting it all 'right', try to keep your mind on expressing the text and colour of tone.
Try to be a real person when you're not on stage.
Be multi-skilled. If the singing is not working that week try acting or dancing instead.
Know that you may not win.
Know that being involved is the real prize.
Know that life and age will give you perspective to understand all these things so be patient.
Be realistic. Times are tough for the arts worldwide.
Be generous and help others out (that means on stage too!) It's not a disadvantage. You will probably be working with the same people for a fair chunk of your life, so don't think being selfish will get you ahead. It's naive.
Be nice to your folks - remember they were the ones to pay for all those lessons when you were young and will probably be your most attentive and loyal audience members.
Most of all - develop a good sense of humour. You need it in this job.

In Conversation: Luke Howard

This is, surprisingly, the first time you’ve played at the Melbourne International Jazz Festival with the Luke Howard Trio! Can you tell me about the trio and what you’ve been up to recently?

I have a long history of playing and performing jazz, but I guess because I’ve been away from Melbourne for so long it’s just never happened to work out! The Luke Howard Trio has been around since 2008, and I think we’re more of a bunch of people playing together now - it feels like a band, because we know how each other plays. We actually just made a new record, so there will be some new tunes at our Jazz Festival concert. We had Sing Sing for two days to put down all out tracks, and we kind of learnt them as we went because the deadline crept up on us all. When you’re working to such a strict deadline you can surprise yourself, and it was a really busy two days because when you’re recording tracks you don’t know super well it takes quite a few takes to get them to sound how you want them. When you’re recording a piece from memory it’s often the earlier takes that stick, but in this case we kind of warmed into it.

You’ve written quite a bit of new music recently, for both your trio and your solo work. Do you find that the two different styles influence each other, or do you keep them separate?

They're both pretty different, but I do sometimes recycle tunes between two. I think the deeper solo stuff that I’ve done doesn’t necessarily translate to a trio concert though, because it feels too composed. The music I write for the trio is quite composed as well, but I’m conscious of leaving space for the other chaps. We’ve become quite a bit clearer recently about which composition structures work for us because while the trio is not super jazzy, it does come from that world and it’s hard not to slip into some of those roles. In terms of my composition across the two though, things unconsciously interchange, but sometimes I have to leave one language at the door when I’m thinking about the other.

What is your relationship with the jazz and classical worlds, and how did this neo-classical/contemporary classical vibe that your solo works now sit in fit into your musical experience?

I learnt classical piano as a kid but I was more interested in improvising and making up tunes, so I started jazz at the VCA. I got super into that for a while but then felt like I needed a break, and I didn’t really have any contacts in that world so I started to look into other things to clear my head a bit. I discovered lots of those crossover artists accidentally while overseas. I think I potentially would have discovered that kind of contemporary classical world in Melbourne, but it might have taken me a bit longer to get into it. The trio must been influenced by that, because if you look at the most recent record, our style has become a lot more compositional. The contemporary classical sound world is really resonating at the moment, particularly in Europe, but here in Australia as well.

Regardless of what you’re writing, what is your compositional process? How do you get started?

Improvising at the piano is always the starting point for my compositions. My experience of harmony and counterpoint comes from a voice leading approach to playing jazz standards, which is the product of a teacher I had who also had a classical background but was performing jazz. That’s not a super uncommon transition in the piano world. He taught me about how voice leading can work in jazz harmony rather than just learning how to voice chords in the left hand. A lot of it was based on the things you learn in AMEB theory, like what notes work well together and how to double, but the difference was that I was learning in real time through jazz improvisation. It made me think about how harmony could be much more horizontal. Whether I’m in the genesis phase of a composition and just noodling around some ideas or I’m arranging something where I can break all the rules, knowing this kind of approach is a great starting point. I think if you could learn improvisation without it being tied to jazz, that would be so good for composers and performers. Eventually everyone figures out what kind of music they want to make, and that’s not always tied to a very specific style or aesthetic, so it’s good to have lots of tools that you can pull out when you need them. If I studied composition, I’d probably be better at different things, but I had jazz and that’s my starting point now. I think your technique should be better than your ideas, because then everything’s possible and you keep getting better.

Outside of compositional technique and theoretical know-how, what non-musical skills have helped you build your musical career?

There are so many things that no one teaches you at university! I think we’re sold a dram that if you practice really hard you’ll get really good and you’ll have a great career as a result. I think that dream is important, because it does make you dig deep and work hard, but the business side of the industry is important and I think I’ve embraced it a bit more as I’ve gotten older. I’ve always enjoyed admin things, because while some of it is boring, you can’t be creative all the time and I find it exciting to watch a project unfold. 50% of my non-procrastinating time is spent sending emails and chasing people up. You’re answering emails and organising rehearsals and making sure everything is going to happen when you need it to happen. It’s important to have your head screwed on about the non-musical things: show up on time, get back to people as soon as you can - being a professional is important. I think some people are scared of mixing business and arts and as a result some artists try not to make their music too accessible. I don’t think aiming for accessibility as your principal goal is a great idea, but I’m not ashamed of making music that resonates with lots of non-musicians. I have peers and friends that make music that I sometimes think is more interesting than what I’m doing, but they don’t have the tenacity in the business department. I think things are incrementally going well because I work a bit every day, and I keep showing up on time.

You mentioned not making accessibility your primary goal, but I imagine it’s something that you do have to think about at some point. How do you approach considering your audience?

Honestly, I try not to let it weigh on my mind. I think there is a bit of an expectation once you’ve had a tiny bit of success that you’ll continue making a certain kind of art, so I’m always trying to police that. I make the music I want to make. From the start I’ve been making music that has been fairly consistent and its progression has been fairly linear over the years. It’s taken quite a few years to shake out the jazz attitude that it’s not good to be simple and also to feel comfortable within my technique - a feeling that also relates to classical art music, I think. What is in fashion in academia, with some exceptions, is often not necessarily in vogue for the rest of the world, and it’s important to remember that, particularly if you’re interested in creating something that’s not in line with what you’re being taught. I mean, you just have to ask yourself why very few composers are writing symphonies. If you write something longer, it’s not necessarily going to get performed! I’m curious to see where the world of contemporary classical music goes though. Is it the equivalent of Kenny G to the jazz world or is it more than that? It will be an interesting progression. I try and listen to a lot of different music, which is something I think everyone should do. Listen to music that challenges you, and music that you don’t necessarily like very much. Listening widely is good for you.

Does the fact that you have studied improvisation change your attitude towards composition do you think? Has the focus on improvisation influenced your ability to let go of ideas that aren’t working?

I do try not to get attached to things too much, because I know how easily that can happen. At the beginning of the process I throw out things if I feel like they’re not strong, or if I’ve unconsciously created an idea I’ve already had before, which happens when you’re doing a lot of writing. When it comes to developing compositional ideas, I think one development is hard enough! I work on something for a while, then leave it, then go back to it with a fresh mind - that has become my process for writing and arranging. I think the only way I know I’m done is when I start changing things back to how they were originally - that’s a sign that I’ve started changing things just for the sake of it. When you’re starting out on a new work, I think it’s good to get something down, regardless of how good it is, because once you’ve got something you can work on it. Better something than nothing!

In Conversation: Shefali Pryor

As well as being the Associate Principal Oboe for the Sydney Symphony Orchestra, you also wear a number of different hats that see you working as an artistic director and a mentor to young musicians. Can you tell me about the non-musical skills that playing an instrument have allowed you to develop, and how working away from your instrument inform your performance and vice versa?

I think it’s impossible to separate musical and non-musical skills. Of course, the fine motor skills required to play our instruments on a purely technical level are very detailed and specific, but they would be meaningless without the ability to communicate and express ourselves. Listening, communication, problem-solving, teamwork, self-analysis, patience, perseverance, resilience… these are all crucial to being a musician, but also quite universal. I do think that perhaps as classically trained musicians we don’t always recognise how these skills that we develop and hone in rehearsal and the practice room have a much broader application than we might imagine.

What I’ve learnt from the other hats I’ve worn over the years does now colour the kind of musician I want to be. I feel incredibly lucky to be able to do what I do and make music for a living, but am also acutely aware that it takes a small army of people to get us on stage every night! So I feel that as musicians we need to engage in the processes that facilitate what we do, and understanding and contributing to all that goes into running a not-for-profit arts company in Australia is terribly important.

Working with young musicians is constantly inspiring. It never hurts to be reminded of how it felt to play Mahler or Beethoven for the first time; to see the dedication and enthusiasm of the students and the remarkable progress they make, and to play a part in bringing it together can’t help but energise my own music making. As does something like our Vanguard program, which introduces new audiences to what we do in the orchestra. To be able to connect with someone who has never previously even thought to come to a concert is incredibly exciting. When we’re putting together the programs it’s a lot of fun to be able to look at everything that an orchestra has to offer and try and see it from the perspective of someone who has zero preconceptions about what they’re going to hear. You can have a program with Berio, Gabrielli and a New Orleans funk arrangement and somehow it works, there’s something in there for everyone. It gives us a lot of freedom to play with!

What does a regular day look like for you as a full-time orchestral musician, and where do you spend the few hours you have away from rehearsal and performance? How do you make sure you're striking a balance between work and life commitments?

Every day is different, but the weeks do have a general plan of rehearsals towards the start of the week and concerts at the end. Rehearsal days run from 10-4 and there’s a general rehearsal in the morning before the first performance. For the rest of the week the time around performances is free for practice, preparation, teaching and any other personal projects like chamber music. It’s really healthy for us to keep an active musical life outside of the orchestra as well, as the energy you get from working with other players, styles and contexts comes back with you into the orchestra.

I’ve learnt (slowly) that I don’t have to say yes every time I’m asked to do something. So these days I try to make a bit more space for time off outside of the rehearsal schedule. And it’s just for the regular things, teaching, family, cooking, walking my pooch, plus I try to get out of Sydney hiking as often as I can. I also do quite a bit of long distance running which serves the double purpose of keeping me fit and helping clear my head and manage my nerves.

It’s a balance that constantly fluctuates, but in the end being a musician is who I am and I’m more than happy to have this mould the way I live my life - it’s a privilege!

You'll be speaking on the upcoming Music Love panel about creating a career in music as a female performer, and the difficulties and hurdles that one must jump to get there. What challenges do young musicians and music students face in the classical industry?

I am very lucky to have had a fairly direct path into an orchestra job, and also to work in an industry where I have never felt limited as a woman. But I know from speaking to older colleagues, or looking at an orchestra like the Vienna Philharmonic, that this is relatively new and it’s certainly not something I take for granted!

The reality is that the nature of our work is constantly changing and so the challenges faced by students will continue to change too. Where previously there was a standard trajectory of moving from university into a orchestral career, those careers are becoming broader and more varied. With a limited number of full time jobs available in the country, students are also needing to develop the skills to manage active freelance careers which very likely span musical genres and also include teaching. From within the orchestra we all wonder what an orchestral job will look like in 30 years and I’m sure this plays on the minds of younger musicians coming up now. But I’m actually constantly inspired by the creativity and flexibility shown by musicians in the pathways they pursue and the opportunities they make for themselves.

Some challenges will always stay the same though. When it comes to being a classical musician there is an investment of time in the practice room and a kind of single-minded focus that just can’t be skipped. But the resources available to students now are quite astounding; there is such an ease of access to recordings, online performances and masterclasses. Inspiration and knowledge are becoming easier and easier to find, and we need to make the most of this no matter what point in our career we’re at.

When you are rehearsing a new piece of orchestral music, what does your process of learning that work look like? Is it different to how you approach a piece of solo repertoire?

The process of preparation for orchestral vs. solo works is a little different, as the technical demands are often quite different. We work through new programs every week in the orchestra, so this repertoire needs to be learnt quickly. It’s generally (though by no means universally) not so technically demanding, but I need to maintain a good technical level to be able to respond quickly. I will start by listening, then work on any tricky bits, and spend some time making reeds (the curse of life as an oboist!!), as well as following a general technical routine to stay in shape. It varies for different instruments though; a first violinist for instance will likely spend more time working on their actual part, whereas I will work on basic maintenance and reed-making. Solo repertoire is a much longer process and works can be worked on over months, if not years. In this it becomes about immersion and refinement, really nutting out what you want to say and developing the technique to do that.

What does creating a sustainable career in the classical music industry mean to you?

Oh gosh, where to start?! A sustainable career for me as a musician is one where I continue to grow and be inspired, hopefully inspiring others and finding fulfilment through connecting with audiences, taking risks, expression and education. But this is only possible by having a sustainable music industry. So we need to engage as much as possible with the people that make it all possible, our supporters and philanthropists, audiences, educational institutions, and the management teams behind every orchestra. I want to be as excited and fulfilled as a musician at 65 as I was at 20, but to do this we also need to ensure our own livelihoods by generating as strong a relationship with the community as possible.

As a student, balancing technical practice while also trying to get out into the world to create a personal brand can be incredibly tricky. Do you have any advice for young musicians about how they can strike a happy medium between career development and putting the hours in so to progress technically?

Those hours put into technique are impossible to disconnect from the investment in a strong musical identity. The technique is developed in order to help us find our voice and share with the audience, not the other way round. It took me a while to realise this, I was always a little afraid to play what I felt in case it was ‘wrong’, but if you’ve done your homework properly then there’s no such thing! Develop a strong sense of the musician you want to be through practising, listening, taking in as much as you can and making the most of every opportunity, and then draw on all of that to try to connect with the people you play with and for. Yes, it absolutely pays to be savvy with regards to online/public presence, but I think you need to start from the point of being the best musician you can be.

This is going to vary though, depending on the kind of career that you’re pursuing. I was very lucky to join the orchestra quite young, and being a ‘member of the SSO’ fortunately has lead to many other opportunities. Orchestral career development is very much about performance on the job, or on the day of the audition, your ‘brand’ doesn’t’ really come into play. In fact I think there can sometimes be a conflict between the cultivation of a strong solo musical identity as we study and the teamwork required in an orchestra, which is why orchestral experience is such an invaluable part of musical training.

However, If you are working towards a career based on solo or chamber music projects then developing a strong public profile and marketing yourself successfully are very important. There are many in the industry who could comment with much more authority than I can on this, but I’ve seen first-hand how smart marketing can make or break small ensembles. The ensembles and players that inspire me are those that are taking risks, looking for new connections, being creative about the way they frame what they do. It’s a hell of a lot of work, but I have to trust that if we always come back to being the best musicians we can be then this is what ultimately reaches our audiences.

In Conversation: Dianne Reeves

You initially trained as a classical singer. Can you tell me about how this has impacted the way you sing jazz?

I studied classical voice when I was at the University of Colorado, and it really was the perfect foundation for my technique. I had very good instructors and teachers who taught me that having a solid technique meant you could use your voice in any way you wanted. No matter how you wish to sing, your technique should allow you to do it. I think that young singers should be able to define and refine their instrument, and while there are a lot of really wonderful teachers now who do everything, it’s important that you remember how crucial it is to have a good technical foundation.

Building a successful career in the music industry can be seriously challenging, and takes more than just a good voice. What else do you have to be good at to make it?

The industry is no longer like it was. It’s a tough game out there for you now. When I was starting out, there were a lot of options for young singers: you could do studio work, you could write songs, you could be a lot of different things. I wrote my own songs and sung other people’s songs, and it felt as if there were a lot of places I could go and do a range of musical activities. It’s not that there aren’t opportunities now, but the environment has changed. Social media has played a really huge role in the way the music industry is now, I believe, which has a lot of positives that young people should take advantage of. The industry is hard, but you can and should create your own opportunities, and be creative in figuring out a way to get yourself out there. I think this new generation of performers have a better idea of how they can promote their music, and who they’re promoting to because social media gives you face to face access with your audience.

You are constantly on the road, performing all over the world. What is it like to be away from home so often?

That’s just how it works out! It’s what you do as a musician. I always tell young people that if you love music and you give your heart to it, it takes you places! Music has taken me all over the world and I’m certainly not complaining. It’s important that every performer knows their own limits when they’re touring, so they can make decisions about when they need to take time off or have a bit of quiet time. The biggest thing for me now when I’m on the road is rest and exercise.

If you could give young musicians a piece of advice about career development in the music industry, what would you tell them?

Well, I would say learn the music and listen to the music. That’s the most important thing. You can go to school to learn about musicianship and singing, but it’s really crucial that you’re listening, and listening carefully. Then it’s about getting out there and singing and pushing yourself. You can and should define your own unique approach and sound. Be yourself!

You’re coming to Melbourne pretty soon to close the Melbourne International Jazz Festival. How do you craft a show?

I never tell people what I’m performing! Every show is unique and I pick songs as I go, which keeps things fresh and exciting for me and the audience. I have a really great band and we are co-creators, constantly changing things up and coming up with new ideas. Jazz is a living art form, I believe, and we change arrangements for different performances and we sometimes create things on stage for the first time. Jazz is and always should be alive!

In Conversation: Natalie Aroyan

Your upcoming recital for Opera Australia will see you perform Armenian and Argentinian songs alongside the acclaimed baritone, José Carbó. What is special about the repertoire that you'll be performing for this concert?

This has to be a career highlight for me, and one I will cherish forever. To be able to sing the songs from my motherland is such an honour and a blessing, and I am proud to be able to present these beautiful Armenian pieces to the Australian public. Through music and poetry, we can glimpse the Armenian people’s struggles but also their strength and triumph in the face of adversity. Performing alongside the great José Carbó is an added bonus. I am blessed to share this concert with someone of his high calibre, who undoubtedly will bring much fire and passion through his Argentinian songs.

Can you tell me about your process for learning music, particularly when working on multiple roles, as well as concert repertoire and other works? What's your trick for committing all the notes to memory?

Firstly I sit with a calendar and make a schedule for myself, and include information on what I need to learn by when, checklists of page numbers learnt and page numbers memorised. Then I take my role to my diction coach to ensure my diction is correct, which will ultimately help everything else. I then study the pieces for my role at home until I present it to my teacher and coach. As a young child, I used to recite Armenian poetry for school events, which has helped me greatly with the skill of memorising notes and words; it’s a matter of repetition and focus.

As a young artist, balancing all the different aspects of your life can be difficult - you're performing, studying music and attending rehearsals while juggling a social life and family time. How do you find time for everything? Do you have any tips for young musicians struggling with those same issues?

Over the years I have had to make significant sacrifices. It has been a difficult journey at times, but having the support of my family and my friends has been an immense help, especially as they understand my commitment to my singing career. However, I know others have it harder than me, those with children or those who live far from their families for long periods of time… It’s difficult in different ways for different people. But if this career is everything you dream about doing and if it truly makes you happy, then sometimes great success requires greater sacrifice.

Before you came to the world of opera, you studied business and IT. How have those skills helped you in your operatic career, and do you think it is important for other young artists to develop an understanding of management and business to help with their own musical development?

For me, it was a blessing in disguise. It relieved me of the pressures of making it in this industry, as I had a couple of degrees to fall back on and I never felt like I didn’t ever have other options. It also prepared me in presenting myself as a package when applying for scholarships, which played a huge part in my development. My early training was filled with competitions and study plans. I was extremely thorough in presenting my case to the adjudicators and my Marketing Degree immensely contributed to this… my programming skills, I am yet to utilise!!

Later this year you'll be performing the title role in Aida for Opera Australia! When you're performing such a role, what does your character development process look like? Do you find yourself doing a significant amount of research, or is it more about getting the character into your body?

It’s both. I will always research every role I am performing to enable me to have the greatest understanding of my character, the characters around me, and the place and period the opera takes place. This all contributes to creating a character that is believable. I then draw on my own life experiences to deliver a very real and raw performance. This is challenging but I find the process more comprehensive and fulfilling. Having studied Ancient Egyptian History and visited all the ancient sites in Egypt, finally performing Aida is a dream come true.

If you could give your past self one piece of advice about navigating the opera industry, what would it be?

I’d need more than one! Be patient but persistent. Work hard. Don’t stress. It’s ok to make mistakes. It’s ok to fail. Believe in yourself. Keep moving forward.

In Conversation: Kate Denborough

Out of Earshot sees you working with a live musician and a profoundly deaf dancer. Can you tell me about how the work came about?

I remember seeing this performer, Myele Manzanza, at the Stonnington Jazz Festival and being incredibly blown away by his performance. It was more than just music: his playing was quite choreographic, and it made me think that music could absolutely be merged with dance on stage, rather than leaving the musicians in the pit or offstage. When I met Anna Seymour, a Melbourne-based dancer who is profoundly deaf, to speak through ideas, she mentioned that she’d always wanted to work with a drummer, as percussion is a fantastic way to access music, as body language is such a huge point of the performance. So it has been fantastic to create this work about sound and silence and non-verbal communication! The focus on how we communicate with one another was intended from the outset, and we’ve really been interested in exploring body talk, touch and intimacy – all the different languages we use to express ourselves. This piece looks at the connection between bodies, sound and music, and the different forms of communication we use. Music is such an important and powerful way to express and influence mood, though you won’t get 'songs' in this piece – you’ll get volume and rhythm and connection.

What does the rehearsal process look like for a work like Out of Earshot?

Every day there is a warm up for an hour, and after that, we begin piecing things together. The first few weeks in the development phase are all about experimentation: there is no right or wrong. If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. When things feel good, everyone knows instinctively, and we ask a lot of questions of ourselves and each other. It’s constant trial and error. In those early days, there are no answers, so anything is possible. Risks can be high because there is no fear of failure. We might spend hours and hours on one scene and in the end, we just cut it, and it’s not a waste of time at all. It’s a matter of refining the material we have, and occasionally that’s quite severe. We’ve made so much more material than we can use! Initially, some people can find it hard to let go of something they’ve worked hard on, but it’s something I have really come to love.

This particular work, Out of Earshot, is all about communication – with the audience, with the performers, with the music. Can you tell me about the process of working on this piece in the rehearsal room?

There is an interpreter in the room during rehearsals, so the way we communicate with one another has had to be much clearer than we usually are. It’s been an incredibly positive experience, having to be thoughtful and respectful with one another, ensuring we’re not talking over each other. In each project we hand pick the cast for their personalities and the mix of people and skills, so the cast at the moment are really active in their contribution to the work. Each artist has their own choreographic identity, which elevates the whole process. It’s also been really fantastic having live music in the room! We can try things really quickly, and having Myele in the room has brought a completely different perspective, as he doesn’t have the same short hand as we do. It’s been incredibly interesting and has made us all shift a little bit in the way we think about our process - a lot of which we take for granted. We often demonstrate rather than speak in the rehearsal room, which has changed in this process. Myele’s thoughts have been great, and he has offered lots of suggestions and musical thoughts. Jazz musicians are listening and watching extremely carefully because of improvisation, so he has been great at reading cues from the dancers. He’s completely in tune with the them.

What was your journey from performer to director like? Have you always had a strong interest in artistic direction and choreography?

Absolutely. Even as a child I loved directing and worked on school shows and eisteddfods. I loved devising work and seeing it from an objective point of view. I did love performing, but I just liked the other stuff more. Gerard and I were both performing when we started KAGE, but then we began to change our roles and I started moving my focus to being outside of the works rather than in them. With a family, I found performing could be really challenging and self-focused, and I eventually lost interest in that. I wanted to have more of an impact, and I got that from being outside the work rather than in it. Performers have a very particular language, and as a director, your main role is to be really sensitive and understanding. Making an environment where every person in the room feels comfortable and confident is a huge part of my job now.

What do you wish young dancers knew – particularly those hoping to create their own works, whether contemporary of classical?

I have just recently been working with the third-year dancers at the VCA, and the school has a season where two of the dancers are selected to create their own works. They’re given the resources that are necessary to put on a new production, which is fantastic – I’d love to see more opportunities like that. Gerard and I just went for it – we didn’t wait for anyone else to offer us anything, we just found and made our own opportunities. I think it’s important to have a hunger for it and a real determination to make things happen. If you’re passionate – and this goes for all creative people - you’ve just got to do it. Success was really gradual, but we persisted and got some favours and eventually got some money. The biggest lesson was to ask questions. Ring up the funding bodies, knock on doors and don’t feel shy! If you see someone whose work you love, go say hello and introduce yourself. All artists have to be proactive and find other creatives they love and get mentored. Gerard and I asked so many questions, and people rarely said no. Artists want to help and mentor and guide people at the start of their journey, and having someone in your corner is really important, particularly at the beginning. Get out there and connect!

Being part of a broader festival must give you the opportunity to introduce new things to an audience who might not traditionally know a lot about what you do. What are you hoping the people who see Out of Earshot will experience?

I would like to think audience members will come with an open mind and a willingness to be surprised and experience something new. We’re trying to challenge perceptions of sound, beauty and intimacy, and we’re working with some stunning technology that allows sound to be seen. It’s a very much a multisensory piece. Music festivals are often completely inaccessible for deaf audiences, so we began thinking about how we could challenge that while also providing a really positive and beautiful environment for the audience to experience this performance. We’re not reacting negatively to the inaccessibility, it’s about broadening the experience of silence and dance and movement in a very inclusive way. We want to push against the way people experience entertainment: this piece is more than just sitting in a chair and taking for granted the fact you’ll get all your cues via aural means. It won’t be so far out of the blue for jazz audiences, but we do know it’ll be very different, and that’s a great thing! We want to attract a broad range of audiences and perhaps give them the opportunity to think and experience in a different way. That’s our genuine interest as a company: we want to pursue topics and ideas that are really important to us and that’s why we take our time in the development process. It means more in the end!

Your Questions: Deborah Humble

Embarking on the start of an international career is a challenging endeavour, and not just because of the amount of work. Dealing with homesickness, a new language and accomodation costs are just some of the points to think about before your big move. To help get our heads around what it took to make it as a musician overseas, we turned to our good friend Deborah Humble, who is one of Australia's most successful international artists, and asked her your questions about life overseas.

How do I get an agent in the UK or Europe?

If you are getting roles with companies or at least have some decent roles under your belt after college or university and if you are ready to travel in pursuit of a professional career then it may be time to find an agent. There is no formulaic answer to this often asked question. The most obvious way is to find out who the main agents are in each country (ask colleagues, coaches and teachers or consult the Deutsche Bühnen Jahrbuch which covers German speaking countries) and write to them. Some may send a reply suggesting an audition time in the future or asking you when and where they can hear you in performance, but in my experience most will not. A lot of the higher level agents would prefer to discover you and not the other way around. Nonetheless, it could be that your letter of introduction arrives on someone’s desk at just the moment they need a singer with your particular voice type, or maybe your name will stick in their mind for the future. It's ironic that without an agent it is difficult to find work, but that an agent wants to see you perform before they sign you. Remember the saying “nobody wants you until somebody wants you?” Try not to be discouraged by this sometimes frustrating process. Agents attend competitions, auditions and concerts and these scenarios will most often provide an opportunity to meet a potential agent. When you do find an agent who wishes to represent you make sure it's a good fit for you. Check their artist list and see who else they represent. Remember that some smaller agencies promise the world and then deliver absolutely nothing. It is tempting to say yes to the first offer that comes along but it is always important to ask around in order to make an informed choice. Your agent will end up being one of the most important people in your life. Put your career in reliable and trustworthy hands.

When I write to an agent seeking representation what do I send?

It's a good idea to send a short and precise letter of introduction. Agents in Europe receive many requests and rarely have time to read page upon page of information. Research each agency and personalise your letter by finding out who the exact person is who represents the singers at the same level as you. Include a good quality head shot and a full length or production photo. A sound recording is a good idea (make sure it is recent and well-recorded) and a link to your web site where reviews, recommendations and further information about performance dates and experience can be read. If you have a performance coming up you could ask them if they would be interested in attending by offering complimentary tickets.

Do you have any ideas about how to go about gaining auditions overseas? Many agents reply to email requests to say they already have too many singers on their books, or won't be holding auditions this season. Is it possible to gain house auditions without a German agent?"

You can certainly write direct to opera houses in any country. Again, I recommend the Deutsche Bühnen Jahrbuch (www.buehnengenossenschaft.de) for a list of all German theatres and the names of people who work there. You can buy the book for around €75 or find a copy in all big libraries. You may receive replies from companies relating to general or informative auditions so it is a good idea to write well in advance if you are coming from overseas. There are generally two audition ‘seasons,’ from September to December and then again from January to April, but these days opportunities can become available at any time. The summer break in Europe is usually July and August and little happens in the way of auditions during this time.

When I write to German companies asking for auditions should I write in German or English?

I think that depends on which languages you speak. I have been asked to help singers with audition cover letters in German but I always remind them that if they write a letter in good German it may logically be presumed that you also speak good German. There's not much point sending a German letter written by someone else if you can't communicate in German once you get to Germany.

When you're going overseas to a non-English speaking country to audition, how much of their native language should you already have? Can you learn as you go?"

Of course you can learn as you go, (I did), but it certainly makes life easier to have the basics covered before you arrive. All major companies will be able to conduct an audition or a rehearsal in English if necessary, but the smaller the opera house and the town the less likely this will be and a good standard of German comprehension and communication is a given. Mostly operas are cast with singers, conductors and directors of many different nationalities and a common language will be chosen in which to conduct rehearsals. Therefore the basics of Italian and French are also very useful. I recently worked in France with a Spanish director, French assistant director, Norwegian conductor and singers from China, Belgium, Sweden and Britain. Any professional musician working in Europe has to get used to an international environment and learn to cope with many different languages and cultures. Early on in my career I auditioned in Braunschweig and was asked in English if I ‘spoke’ German. After answering in the affirmative the panel then gave me a series of directions in German; ‘take two steps towards the piano,’ sing your next aria further back,’ etc obviously designed to test me. It's best never to lie about the extent of your language skills.

Which of German, French and Italian is the most important language for me to learn?

This depends on the kind of repertoire you think you will be focussing on and the country in which you are most likely to get work. If you are looking for a contract in Germany then it would be German, most likely followed by Italian and French. If you are an early music singer then maybe French and Italian first. In order to earn a decent living these days, you will probably have to work all over Europe. The advice I give to all young Australian singers is to get all three languages under your belt as soon as possible while you are studying. Once you start working there is often less time to devote to study.

In Germany, what is the difference between a Fest and a Gast contract?

A Fest contract is one where you are attached to a particular house. You receive a contract for a full year with a certain number of required roles and performances. You will live in that city, receive a monthly salary and health insurance and enjoy the many benefits of having full-time employment. If you are sick and cannot perform you will still receive your full monthly pay. Above and beyond your quota of performances you will be paid extra for any additional performances. A Gast contract means you are employed for a particular role in an opera. You will be required to be based in that city while you rehearse and perform for the duration of the contract. Most likely you will not receive any fee for the rehearsal period (which might be up to 6 weeks or more) and you will be responsible for finding and paying up front for your own accommodation. If you are sick and cannot sing you will not receive any compensation for missed performances. Potentially you will earn more money this way, but for many singers, the lifestyle does not suit and the financial risk is too great.

Do I need a regular coach as well as a technical teacher?

Yes. A teacher usually focuses on aspects of vocal technique and health such as breath control, range, vowel production, focus etc which require work and development. A coach is necessary to help you with language, style and interpretation. A coach can also help you prepare roles, help with repertoire choices and prepare you for auditions. A trustworthy ‘second pair of ears’ is vital.

What does the term ‘Fach’ mean exactly and how important is it?

‘Fach’ is a term that has been used in Germany since the end of the 19th century to help categorise voices. It generally means ‘specialty’ or ‘category’ and it is important to understand which particular voice type you are when auditioning and singing in the German opera system. Fest contracts will be described by Fach when you are auditioning. For example, a house will advertise for a ‘lyrischer Sopran/lyric soprano’ or a ‘dramatischer Alt/dramatic contralto’ or a ‘Spieltenor/character tenor.’ It is up to you to know which roles fall under these categories when auditioning. Rudolf Kloiber’s ‘Handbuch der Oper,’ written in German, is a complete manual on voice types, auditioning and roles. There are 25 different voice types described as follows: soubrette, lyric coloratura soprano, dramatic coloratura soprano, lyric soprano, character soprano, spinto/young dramatic soprano, dramatic soprano, coloratura mezzo, lyric mezzo, dramatic mezzo, dramatic alto, low alto, countertenor, lyric tenor, character/acting tenor, lyric baritone, cavalier baritone, character baritone, dramatic baritone, character bass,acting/character bass, heavy character/acting bass, serious bass.

I am sometimes confused by the different input I receive on my voice from teachers, coaches, agents and at masterclasses etc. what can I do about this?

Everyone, and I mean everyone, will have an opinion about your voice during all stages of your career. Everyone will be a critic. Some will know what they are talking about and many will not. It is important to understand your own voice and capabilities as soon as possible and to have a teacher and coach in your life whom you trust implicitly to tell you the truth. I always advise singers to listen carefully to what they are told and then decide what may be useful and to discard what is not helpful. Different suggestions will resonate at different stages of your vocal development. Try to remember that most people have good intentions when making suggestions about your voice. Also remember that a well-intentioned suggestion does not always come from an expert. As a young singer, it is difficult to avoid situations when you must sing for people such as visiting coaches and at masterclasses etc. When you are starting out and still working on your vocal technique it is helpful to find one or two people you feel work well for you and stick to that rather than seeking opinions from too many different sources.

Do you think being Australian means I will be overlooked in favour of Europeans or Americans?

No. I was quite disappointed to read a report recently which suggested that European companies prefer not to employ Australians. It is true to say that Australians may need to work harder at language and understanding foreign culture, customs and systems, but you only have to look at the large numbers of Australian singers and instrumentalists enjoying success abroad to realise an international career is absolutely possible. The teachers and opera coaches I have spoken to in Germany, France and Italy are very positive about the contribution Australian artists have to make in a European environment.

How much will I earn on a Fest contract in Germany?

This depends on the size of the house, where it is and how much funding it receives. German opera houses are categorised as A+, A, B, C and D. An average salary might be around €3000 per month. After taxes and insurances you will often take home little more than half that. Extra money can be earned by guesting, concert work and taking in extra performances above your contracted quota.

How much does an apartment cost per month in Germany?

Again this depends which city you live in. Accommodation in Berlin is very reasonable and €600 Euro per month will get you started. The smaller the city the cheaper it is. Hamburg and Munich are more expensive but a good quality apartment can still be found for under €800/900 per month. Check your contractual ‘Neben Kosten/extra costs’ for heating, water etc which can be high.

How do you deal with being away from home for so much of the year? I'm worried about being homesick when I go overseas to travel. Do you have any tips for dealing with this?"

A freelance career involves constant travel which means staying in different hotels and serviced apartments, living out of a suitcase, not being able to be involved with regular activities, seeing friends and family irregularly and dealing with loneliness. When considering whether this lifestyle is for you you might like to ask yourself some the following questions:

“Do I enjoy spending lots of time alone?”

“Do I enjoy constantly meeting new people and working with new colleagues?”

“Can I eat in a restaurant alone?”

“Will I feel comfortable in an environment where English is not my first language?”

“Can I survive without my friends and family?”

“How will I deal with long,cold winters?”

“Can I deal with financial insecurity?”

“How will my job/travel affect my relationship/children?”

Loneliness and homesickness are part and parcel of the lifestyle of a singer. Learning languages will help you communicate and becoming comfortable with your own company will help you survive in new cities. Get out, explore your surroundings and take an interest in new cultures.

Social media, Skype and free phone calls/messaging are wonderful ways to keep in touch with friends and family and find contacts all over the world.

In Conversation: Simon Tedeschi

What about the story of Enoch Arden initially captured your imagination, and how did you come across the work originally?

I was fascinated by the idea of a work written for narrator and piano - a very unusual pairing indeed. Secondly, Strauss' music has captivated me for my entire life, especially since accompanying the violin sonata, which is perhaps the greatest sonata for violin and piano of all. And lastly, because the story of a lone man seeing meaning and redemption from a cruel world was very resonant with my understanding of the world in 2017.

The work, while popular when it was written, hasn't been performed very often because of the fact that recitation and melodrama have largely fallen out of fashion, I imagine. What do you enjoy about this kind of work and is there a renaissance for narration coming?

It is a very new thing for me as well and as such, initially felt strangely antiquated and even overindulgent - until I understood that that was the whole point. Melodrama is a distillation of things that we feel every day, magnified to gargantuan levels.

Can you tell me a little bit about your rehearsal process in preparing a work like this?

Both John and I aren't overly keen on huge and laborious rehearsals and we are both very seasoned performers, and thus can economise very quickly, concentrating on what is vitally important. We started working together very close to the recording - the main issues of 'ensemble' were working out exactly how the music intersected with the text, as dictated by Strauss' score.

You will be performing this work around the country for a month. When you do so much work on the road, how do you look after yourself and balance all the projects you are juggling at any given time?

That's the eternal question for a performer. In my case, always make sure that you have healthy food on hand and plenty of rest. Right now, I'm jetlagged as hell and I'm not even at my final destination yet!

Has your process of preparation differed from how you would rehearse a work of Lieder, based on the fact you're working with a narrator rather than a singer?

Absolutely. The reading voice works at a different speed, intonation and timbre to the singers voice, and the notion of breath is certainly different. So, I felt like much more of a conductor than a colourist.

This work is extremely musically interesting and became one of Strauss' most popular works when it was premiered. What about Enoch Arden made it so incredibly loved at the time of its writing, and where does it fit in the repertory - being at the crossroads of drama, lied and recitative?

Melodrama fit into the romantic ethos perfectly - it captured the notion of human beings, entirely vulnerable at the hands of nature and dependent on their inner fortitude and relationship with the almighty. In terms of today, I feel that it is a remarkable piece of music, written by a timeless genius, depicting the interchange of romantic poetry and music that whilst seemingly of a different age, is entirely appropriate for the challenges of the world today.

You've said that the themes of the work are still as relevant now as they were when the poem was written in 1864. What about Tennyson's words allow them to stand the test of time in such a pertinent way?

Great poetry is great poetry - and even though the words and dialogue themselves are old fashioned, they have an internal rhythm, metre and depict a landscape that is as beautiful as any Les Murray or TS Eliot.

When you're learning a new work, what does your rehearsal process generally look like? Do you have a practice routine that you stick by, or does it change from one project to the next?

Changes entirely on multiple factors - how much time I have, the challenges of the piece, what else I'm learning at the time, the instrument I am using, and even my mood! But generally, the fastest way to mastery is slow practise - irrespective of the piece.

For young pianists working towards a career in the industry, do you have any advice for balancing projects and putting on your own performances?

Yes - be daring and don't listen to stuff like 'find your niche' - play the great music and play it well and for the rest of your life. And be humble.

In Conversation: Peter Coleman-Wright

Your newest record, Ballads of the Pleasant Life, focusses in on the music of exile, with particular reference to the Weimar Republic period. What attracted you to this period of writing and encouraged you to record some of these lesser-known pieces?

Nexas Quartet asked me to perform with them last year, and I wasn’t sure what repertoire would work with a saxophone quartet, but immediately thought of the cabaret style of the 30’s and 40’s. The more I looked into the music, the more I was surprised to see how much diversity there was, how many composers had been neglected because of the war and how rich and fabulous the writing was.

Can you tell me about curating the program that we hear on the recording? There is a wide selection of composers and aesthetics, and I'm interested in hearing about the research process that went into choosing and shaping the final product!

The more I delved into the Weimar period, which was so rich artistically despite the war, the more composers I found. Franz Schreker, Hans Eisler, Eric Korngold and Alexander Zemlinsky - among many others - had to flee the Anschluß and all were prodigious and brilliant talents. Each had a distinctive musical voice. In selecting the individual pieces, I played through countless songs until I found repertoire that would work well with the soundscape of the saxophone. The music of Kurt Weill and Eisler before they went to America was full of strong sentiment against the bourgeois and the plight of the worker. These worked brilliantly with the sax quartet. I added an early song by Schönberg because he was such a towering figure in music and ended up in America as well.

What does the recording process look like for a record like this? How long does it take in the studio, and is there an extensive rehearsal period prior to heading in to put the tracks down?

Each song was transcribed for the quartet by the players themselves! We worked through each song, and I helped the group understand the text. Many of the songs were in German with important messages. Once in the studio, we sang through each song many times. Our wonderful producer Andre Schrimski listened from the sound booth. After each take, we listened for intention, understanding, musicality, diction, clarity etc. We were fortunate enough to have around 5 days to do this recording, which meant that we could fine-tune and really capture the flavour and style of the music. After singing each song many times, a singer has to be careful to pace oneself so that the voice doesn’t become too tired or lose its bloom.

You've sung leading roles in opera houses all over the world, but you're just as comfortable performing contemporary art music and concert repertoire. Has your experience in preparing dramatic roles influenced your approach to lied and new music in any way?

I always wanted to be an artist without ever having to be put into a box. I wanted to be open to whatever came my way, as long as I felt I could do the work justice. I loved acting, loved text and character, which always made the vocal demands far easier. My roles have been diverse: I sang Don Giovanni over 100 times but was equally thrilled to sing roles like Detlev Glanert’s Caligula or Brett Dean’s Bliss. Great challenges in every way. Lieder and song, I believe, are vitally important for singers to perform. Recitals are all about the singer and pianist being able to take the listener on a journey and being able to convey many emotions and styles in one evening. This requires great attention to text and making sure all the technical demands are met well before performing.

For young opera singers hoping to pursue a career on stage do you have any recommendations for how they can be best equipping themselves for a performance career while studying?

It is paramount that aspiring singers learn very quickly to find their own voice. Too many singers go through the motions, having endless people telling them how to sing everything. I believe that the singers who have the most exciting and interesting careers are the ones that know who they are and what they want to say as an artist. Of course, this gets easier as one grows into roles, but it’s a skill to learn very early on. I would also add that it is crucial to really know one's own voice and abilities and choose repertoire that suits them in every way. I was lucky in that I grew up doing amateur shows and the stage felt home to me. The more one gets to perform the better and easier it will become.

Outside of musical and dramatic expertise, what are the necessary business or management skills that have provided invaluable to you during your career as an opera singer?

Time management. Make sure that there is time to work, rest, study and promote oneself. Being careful to know one's contract and what is required of you. And being financial savvy is also very important. Not wasting money on lessons that are not needed, and being able to save as much as possible for when one has a lucrative moment.

In Conversation: Connor D'Netto

This entire season of work is incredibly exciting - you’ve got Australian premieres and world premieres, and some of the best artists in the country! Can you tell me about how you planned this particular program, and how it fits within the broader season?

Argo definitely has its own style that every performance in the season somewhat works within, but each concert stands alone in terms of audience experience. Each concert sits in a different space and engages with a wide variety of artists of vastly different styles. But, in saying that, I really think if you like one concert, you’ll probably enjoy them all!

The idea for the program of Saturation was born out of a really fantastic piece by a contemporary American composer, which, as the program grew, ended up being cut entirely! I’m not going to tell you what it is because I’m saving it up for something else, but the point is that the ideas and feeling for the whole program was inspired by the feeling that I got from this one piece, even if didn’t make it to the final concert. The feelings were intense, overpowering, saturated. I’ve brought together a program of works which play off that same feeling and those same experiences and ideas. The themes also drew me to two local composers whose styles fit perfectly - Ben Heim and Tom Green - and I consequently commissioned two new works by them. It’s fantastic having both world and Australian premieres in this concert, and the two Argo commissions are particularly exciting: I talked with Ben Heim, who used to work on Argo (and co-founded it with me) and now is based in London, about commissioning a piece for solo piano and electronics, and he’s created this really cool work that takes textures of the live piano and uses live signal-processing to create soundscapes and environments in which the piano plays. The other piece we’ve commissioned for this concert is by Thomas Green, a Brisbane-based composer whose is equally at home with contemporary classical “art” music as he is with producing brilliant electronica/dubstep/Aphex Twin-esque electronic music. The new work he’s written is for flute, piano and electronics, and it’s heavily inspired by dance rhythms, using a heap of samples from the piano and flute and turning them into crazy glitch electronica percussive beats. Between the two works, and the other stuff on the program, there’s a really cool blend of electronics and live performance - they’re sometimes beautiful and evocative, sometimes they’re really heavy and emotive, and sometimes driven and propulsive.

You have a clear interest in combining electronic and live music - how did this come to be a priority, and why do electronic and contemporary classical work so well together?

I genuinely believe that there’s a style or genre of contemporary art music to suit and engage everyone, it’s just not all out there for people to know about yet. There’s so many amazing things going on with composers around the world that work in that grey area between genres, and combine elements of pop, art music, electronic, dance, experimental, etc. There are the big players - Max Richter, Ólafur Arnalds, Nils Frahm, Nico Muhly - but there are also a lot of lesser known composers doing cool things, including many contemporary Australians. A lot of them also write “actual” pop music as well, if you want to make that kind of hard definition. I think it’s about how people listen - lots of the electronic and pop music being listened to now has elements and influences that you can also hear in contemporary classical music. If you enjoy listening to electronic music and dance music, there is something for you in this space that utilises those elements. And generally, we’ve found that people do really enjoy this kind of music because it’s not a huge stretch from what they already listen to, its just that the context in which they hear it that is different. When you go to hear a gig at a club, you’re not required to partake in all the formality of the concert hall, and its often even the same when you look at the more relaxed vibe of a contemporary theatre, so we’re just trying to provide a space that's comfortable and where the audience feels like they can engage with the music with no barriers. It’s not a strategy, it’s just part of the experience we’re creating. Similarly, the electronics aren’t an add-on to draw in an audience - they work part and parcel with the music you hear. It’s in the DNA. It’s the kind of music I like to listen to, and the kind of experience that I enjoy! Honestly, I don’t spend time listening to classical music when I’m at home or on public transport. Most of my relaxation time is spent listening to electronic music. The combination with contemporary classical is what interests us, and it think its something that other audiences will definitely enjoy too.

The way you’ve approached programming has changed a little over Argo’s lifetime. What have you learnt about the process, and how do you think about crafting a program now?

Things certainly have changed from when Ben and I founded Argo to the way I’m running it now. When Ben and I began Argo, between the two of us we were essentially composing and producing the entire program from scratch. This year, I wanted to take the ideas we had created and the same kind of experience that we were giving our audience, and apply it to a broader cross-section of music. Honestly, programming a concert for me is actually much the same as composing: I start off with the initial concert inspiration and gather ideas around that, then shape them together into an entire concert experience. The whole performance is basically one large piece of music: one seamless musical experience created out of smaller musical parts. Looking at it this way really helps me focus in on the audience experience. You get to think about where the climax of the concert sits, where the contrasts are and how it’s building. These broader elements really help you fit things around that original idea. Looking out for how the audience is experiencing the concert is pretty important to me, and certainly to Argo, as we're trying to create something that’s more than just music. While all of the works are absolutely amazing and could work brilliantly in a more traditional concert setting, I’m trying to re-contextualise them in a way that’s a little more sensory. It’s a different way of experiencing a concert, and I like there being that variety of experiences on offer in the scene!

That interest in creating a multi-sensory and multi-disciplinary concert experience is really evident in your focus on visuals and other artistic elements. Why is creating an experience that is more than just music so important to you?

I’ve always been interested in visual arts, having done a decent bit of photography, film, sculpture, painting and sound art in the past. It’s always interested me to see how those artistic mediums can interact with my composition and music making. There is so much that working across mediums and genres can bring to what you do. Whether it’s simply taking inspiration from a different medium - something that artists have been doing for centuries - or actually collaborating with different types of artists to create something new, there is heaps to be learnt. We’re doing a lot of the latter - sticking all the creatives, composers, performers and other artists in a room and seeing what will happen! That collaborative process can bring about so many great ideas. I think it’s important to recognise that when we're part of an audience experiencing a performance, we take in information with all of our senses. So, as musicians, why not create something that utilises all of them as part of the musical experience? I think that’s also a really interesting point in terms of what we were talking about before - engaging with those who don’t listen actively to classical music. Creating and presenting a concert that has elements of several art forms that the audience has already experienced can be a really great thing.

Your skill in visual arts is really evident in your marketing of this season (and in fact, all of your marketing in Argo’s history!) Why is how you package your concert series so important, and what is the process like for creating things like a season’s print and digital marketing collateral?

I did all the digital and print design myself, and it took WAY too long! Several things happened a long time ago, like making decisions around Argo's fonts, which takes a bit of the pressure off, but the specific season design has kind of ambled along since October. I started out by coming up with a general formatting and style direction, focussing particularly on the formatting of text and logos, then started to work on the artwork itself. I worked on that up until about two days before the deadline for printing, and then basically decided I hated it all, so I threw everything away, and spent a whole night redoing it from scratch. I think if I could give some design-y advice: it's good to have a bit of a system for making small choices to help your work be as cohesive as possible - stuff like working to a grid or having a well considered colour pallet, for example. In regards to our colour palette, it all stemmed out of an actual piece of artwork that I saw in the Queensland Gallery of Modern Art (I am working with them towards the end of Argo’s 2017 season). I took a photo of it and selected a bunch of the colours, which became the season colours!

I think right now, when we’re oversaturated with things to see and do, good packaging and design can be the difference between someone stopping to look or continuing to scroll. It’s important to get all your marketing elements looking good. The process really doesn’t need to be intense and time consuming, it just needs to be consistent and well considered. When I was in undergrad, I got given some advice about the basics of design and marketing yourself, which was to design out the following three things items: a letterhead for invoices, letters and proposals, a business card, and a sticker. You should do them all at once, using the same image or fonts and colours, and once you’ve done that, you’ll have something to springboard off for other things. It takes a bit of practice, but you just have to do it. Believe me though, there were a lot of crappy posters on the way to what I'm creating now!

In Conversation: Kathryn Selby

Selby & Friends is one of the most instantly recognisable chamber ensembles in the country, and each season brings an exciting and diverse collection of programs. What is your programming process every year? When does it begin and how do you pick the pieces you are going to perform?

The process begins early with who the guest artists will be. From there we discuss works we are keen to either learn or play again, so it is quite a democratic process.

You are passionate about mentoring developing musicians and are currently working with the wonderful young violinist Grace Clifford. Why is mentoring important for music students hoping to forge a career as a chamber musician or soloist, and what should young musicians look for in a mentor?

Oh it’s an incredibly joyous thing to work with talented young musicians who are dedicated, disciplined and determined like Grace. They bring a great deal to rehearsals, performances and masterclasses. I believe in passing on what I have learned, it’s as simple as that. Mentoring is great for students too in that they learn enormously from those older and more experienced, especially if they get the opportunity to work with the mentor rather than just be mentored. Seeing how someone works often gives so much without having to explain. What to look for in a mentor? Someone willing, kind, experienced and that the student respects.

Initially, Selby & Friends began as a concert series that introduced children to classical music. Can you tell me about your passion for education, and what young people can get from listening and engaging with chamber music?

Chamber music is special in that it allows you to focus on particulars rather than on large forms. It is more difficult as a result as there is less to distract. For young people it is easy to introduce specific instruments and forms through smaller ensembles. Educating young people with classical music is one way to make them feel less intimidated by it as they grow older. Each person will be subject to what their friends like, their parents, the global community, so having an enjoyable experience with classical music from a young age could be a catalyst to returning to it later in life and therefore not only enriching their own lives but also those of us in the profession still out there creating!

For a concert like the upcoming 'By Arrangement', what does the rehearsal process look like for the ensemble?

It's entirely dependent on the availability of the performers – in this case, one quick pre-rehearsal some weeks ago as a read through, and then two solid rehearsals in the days immediately pre-tour.

The process of rehearsing a chamber ensemble can be a tricky one to navigate when you're starting out. Do you have any tips for running a smooth rehearsal period when there are lots of different performers involved?

Try and choose partners with whom you feel a strong affinity, purpose, and common goal. Whilst we all love music and love to play it, some people are just not cut out to be chamber music partners. It is a specialised form and requires a lot of give and take, kindness, humour and commitment. And sharing.

Aside from the artistic and technical side of chamber music making, what are the integral business skills that young performers should focus on cultivating early on?

That is too large a question to answer succinctly! Music schools, for the most part, do not teach the skills required to create and sustain a business in music. As a performer, at the very least read Music Business by Shane Simpson from cover to cover. Most important, surround yourself with people who share your vision and goals, so that you can work together and not be at cross purposes with each other.

In Conversation: Patti Austin

You're incredibly passionate about mentoring young musicians - can you tell me about what it means to be a good mentor and why having a mentor is so important as a young musician?

I think the reason I have such a passion for mentoring is because I started out in the industry as a child, and while I wasn’t really paying particular attention to the people that were mentoring me, I was shown the way by Dinah Washington and Quincy Jones. I was surrounded by this incredible array of innovators. I was really lucky that the people that formed that Great American Songbook and built upon it were the people that showed me the way. Now, it's the only way I know to be: when I’m working with someone younger and I think they’re great I say something. It's so important to say something! If my mentors saw me doing something non-beneficial they would always tell me and I’m trying to do that for the next generation. There are certain people that have an attitude about passing on information, but I don't think that makes the world or the craft get better. It's absolutely crucial to pass on whatever you’ve learnt that works. I've watched how the people that are great at what they do make decisions all my life. I’ve seen people do lots of stupid things that you want to watch and then learn to avoid, and I've also witnessed fabulous people who I've wanted to emulate. People who are successful watch others and learn from them. As the observer, you’ll find things you can’t find on your own, and you'll also figure out ways to do things better than the people you're watching. I keep looking for the smart ones and read everything I can about them - I personally love to read biographies, and I'll think about how they got from one place to the next.

You're on the road a huge amount performing around the world. How do you look after yourself, particularly when you don't have a lot of down-time?

Here’s the most important thing: when the show is over, you've got to go to your room and go to sleep. You've got to learn that! Then there are all the other things like making sure your voice is rested, you're eating right, and you're getting a certain amount of exercise. It's really important to create as much comfort around you as possible when you're travelling. Doing a lot of moving around becomes arduous because you're going through security, and people will pat you down and rifle through your stuff, and you have to sit in airports and hotel rooms and there is so much drama! People say I should write a travel book, actually. Once I get to the place I'm going though, I’m a happy camper. It's the getting there that is hardest. I usually fly alone and for some reason, I always have very bad flying-partner-karma. I'm always next to someone that snores the whole way! Whenever I get on the plane I wipe down everything because it’s a germ-ridden environment, and I make sure I'm keeping my hands clean and I'm eating properly. One of the things I do now when I travel is I try to avoid hotels, or at the very least, find rooms that have a kitchen. I’ve found that preparing my own food, and taking that extra time to look after my eating has been a huge energy booster - I feel more comfortable and I sleep better. If you feel good and comfortable, you'll have a lot more energy for the stage.

Keeping the Great American Songbook is really important to you - can you tell me about the role jazz music plays in your life, and how we can preserve it?

My father was a jazz musician, and my entire childhood was about this music. I was absolutely immersed in it, and that is something I try and tell all young musicians - you must immerse yourself in the stuff. Listen to Sinatra, listen to Ella, listen to everyone who sang this music. Then listen to the instrumentalists who were playing it. It's all about making your voice sound like an instrument - you know that's how Ella learnt to scat? She would sing improvisations back note for note and she could dictate anything she heard. You can and should learn to improvise, and the way to do that is simply to practice practice practice. Jazz is so magnificent because it's infused with elements from every genre possible - it's all in there. I’m fighting so hard for it because it’s such a reflection of all American music, and we tend to take that for granted. I honestly think it’s one of the most wonderful things to come out of America, and I don't think I'm the only one because I’m able to perform it and play anywhere in the world and there is always an audience! I find that audiences in Europe, Asia and Australia study whatever they love, so when I started doing singing overseas I noticed how well they knew what I was singing! The first time I came to Australia I was singing background for Roberta Flack, then later I came alone to sing at festivals, and both times we'd sing the classics like A-Tisket A-Tasket, and there would be kids dancing and whole families would be there singing along. It’s such a wonderful thing to see. It’s an interesting challenge for me because I want to uphold the tradition, but I don’t have to sound exactly the same as the people who made it.

We will be singing along to your favourite songs again next month when you perform with James Morrison and the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra! What is it like to perform these amazing songs from Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald?

Honestly, the part that excites me most is working with James! His musicianship is revered all over the world - all of the musicians fall to the floor and bow a lot! He’s all that and a bag of chips, seriously. To do the music of Louis and Ella with James is so profound, and I absolutely cannot wait. He’s Louis-fied and I’m Ella-fied and we're going to put on a show that hopefully Melbourne will come and rock out to!

So you want to put on a concert?

A (seemingly) simple step-by-step by Dots+Loops curator and producer Kieran Welch

1. Have the idea

It might sound like the most simple step, but for me, it’s the part that takes the longest. Everyone has different motivations or ways of coming up with a concert idea. For me, every concert concept starts with a piece I’m super excited about: the kind I just can’t stop listening to. I’ll often have a bunch of these disparate pieces floating around in my head for months or even years before I find that final piece that satisfyingly slots everything else into place like a jigsaw.

Regardless of how you come up with your concert idea, one question I’d recommend asking yourself first is “what does my concert do that other concerts near me are not doing?” If your goal is just to perform a piece you love with friends, and audience numbers aren’t all that important to you, by all means, go ahead regardless! But finding a point of difference, and being able to articulate it is integral to successfully marketing your show. This in turn will vastly help in making your shows financially viable, and it’s also a big thing most grant boards will be looking for.

2. Work out how you’re going to pay for it (or not)

This doesn’t mean you need a lot of money — some of the most engaging and exciting shows I’ve been to have been put on with a shoestring budget. However, you do need to work out how you’re obtaining the things you need to make the show a reality, like performers, instruments and a venue.

You’d be surprised at the number of things you can make happen without much money being involved — ask around and get creative! However, you do need to make sure you’re upfront with everyone about payment, and what form it’ll be in. No-one got paid much money in the first Dots+Loops shows, but I was always very clear about the financial situation. There can be reasons other than money for people to want to be involved in your projects, and I was lucky to have a bunch of great friends who were as excited about my concert ideas as I was.

Nevertheless, if you do ever want to pay your performers more than an honorarium, chances are you’ll need to apply for some grants. Grants applications may seem scary at first, but so long as you have a relatively good idea of what your project is going to look like, all you really need to do is carefully read and follow the grant’s guidelines. It’s also a skill you build up with experience — you may get knocked back a few times, but the more you do, the better you get. And always make sure to give yourself ample lead time to get everything ready, which leads me on to the next point…

3. Make a schedule (and give yourself more time than you think you need)

Figure out the major milestones involved in preparing your concerts, such as rehearsal periods, concert dates, and grant application deadlines (if you’re applying for any). Write them down. Then give yourself fifty percent more time in between everything than you think you need. Trust me: I haven’t yet had enough time to do everything in four years of putting on shows.

4. Find the performers

When booking performers, put yourself in their shoes. Why should they do the show? What will they get out of it? Again, it doesn’t necessarily need to be money (though that definitely helps), but you’ll need to make sure it’s worth their while somehow. Even just an opportunity to play a piece they’re excited about or getting a good quality recording of the performance might be enough. Again, having a significant point of difference between your show and anything else can really help interest people in your production.

Secondly, each performer brings particular skills to the table. It’s important to also consider areas they may not be so strong in, and what you can do to help. Reliability is a huge aspect: you can really assist by being as organised as possible yourself, and double checking everything with everyone involved. No matter how talented someone is, if they have a habit of bailing on things last-minute they may not be worth the stress.

5. Book the venue

Venues can make or break a concert. A fancy venue in a great location might help to entice audiences, but can quickly suck up all your budget and then some. You definitely need to consider accessibility to your audience, but beyond that my first piece of advice is to think outside the box. We’ve ended up with some super cool and cost-effective venues, just by asking around and using unexpected spaces creatively. An unusual space used well can also really contribute to giving your show a point of difference. However, you do need to make sure that the performers have what they need in the space in order to do their job properly — consider aspects such as a green room, acoustics in the performance space (can they hear what they need to?) and lighting (will they be able to see their music?).

When you do find a good venue, work to maintain a good relationship with the people who run the place. Going beyond basic courtesy in terms of communication, making payments on time, keeping the space clean, and ensuring the venue is mentioned and thanked in marketing will give the owners reasons to do well by you, and can easily translate to future discounts or preferential booking.

6. Finalise schedules and equipment (early)

It’s so much easier to find mutually convenient times for rehearsals if you book them with everyone a few months out. Once you’ve done this, put the schedule in multiple places. At Dots+Loops, we will send out our schedules via email, put them up on a Facebook group, and as a file on Dropbox. I’ll also make sure to send confirmation messages a week before the rehearsals start, and text message reminders the day before every rehearsal. Everyone is busy, expect people to forget things. It’s your job to help them remember.

Then, carefully list everything you'll need at the concert (and in rehearsals). I find it helps to visualise myself in the concert, both as an audience member, and as a performer, and take myself through the process of what I’m doing and what I’d expect to be there. Again, you’d be surprised by the amount of things you can obtain just by asking around, but always have a backup plan for sourcing any vital pieces of equipment. Also, if you are going through hire companies, make sure to get a few quotes as they can vary wildly.

7. Promote it!

For years, I was sure that there was a secret to marketing, and that I just needed to work it out to do it well. Sadly, there isn’t one. It just takes a lot of time.

Firstly, it really helps to have eye-catching promotional material and photos. Spending a bit of money to get something nice done up can be really worth it, but you can always just ask your most tech-savvy and stylish friend to help out too. Just make sure to get promotional material in a range of formats: in addition to a poster, get Facebook event banners, an Instagram square, and perhaps even an eye-catching .gif animation or video intro made up.

Social media is your biggest asset to promoting your show. Make a Facebook page and event for your concert, and attach an Instagram account. YouTube, Twitter and Snapchat can be really useful too, but it’s important to keep any platforms you use up-to-date, so don’t sign up to something unless you’ll have time to post regular updates. Keep in mind that you will likely have to spend a bit of money promoting posts on these platforms to get enough reach—we usually end up spending at least $100 on social media advertising for our shows. If you want to go to the next level, a standalone website will really help your event stand out and look professional, and platforms like Squarespace and Weebly can help you have a slick website up quickly and cheaply.

Next, work out what ticketing platform you’re going to use. Your venue might be sorting this out themselves, but if not, create your own online prebooking account. Trybooking and Eventbrite are two popular platforms for this. Though many of your audiences will likely end up buying tickets on the door, having a cheaper prebooking option can really help start to drum up numbers and interest.

Once you have all this done, write a concise and exciting blurb for your show. Describe who’s playing, why people should come, and why you’re excited. Make sure to include when and where it is, and where people can find more information and tickets. Attach photos and the eye-catching material you’ve had made up, and send personalised emails to every influential person, blog, magazine or press outlet you think might be interested. We end up sending almost fifty emails for each show. But if you want more than one in ten replies, you have to make sure to really sell your concert, and what makes it special. Sweetening the deal with free tickets (or tickets to give away) can really help too.

Finally, make use of the people around you! Almost every big magazine or website feature we’ve had has come from a friend or someone who knows someone. Similarly, the single most effective form of marketing is word-of-mouth, so get everyone involved in the concert on board, sharing the event and talking it up!

8. Look after everyone involved

Always be mindful of the time and expertise anyone else involved is giving to make your concert dream a reality, and don’t take it for granted. As the concert organiser, it’s your job to make sure everyone else can do their job as easily (and enjoyably!) as possible—whether it’s performing, running tech support, or just manning the door sales. Make sure everyone knows what’s expected of them and that you’re providing everything they need to do their job. Keep everyone up to date with schedules. Remember to thank everyone. And little touches, like bringing snacks to rehearsals, can go a long way.

Furthermore, people work better when they feel that they’re a valued member of a team, with their own degree of artistic ownership over the project. Let people help. Listen to their advice. It’s beneficial for everyone involved.

9. Be prepared for things to go wrong

No matter how well you prepare, something will go wrong. A performer will pull out a day before the first rehearsal. Your venue will suddenly inform you they’ve double booked your show, and you’ll need to find a new space in two weeks. One of your funding sources will fall through. It may seem stressful at the time, but almost everything can be worked out with a clear head, creativity, and a bit of help from your friends. Take it as a challenge. We’ve had some of the most weirdly unexpected pitfalls leading up to shows, and I’ve weathered a number of sleepless nights because of them. But in four years, we’ve always worked everything out in the end, and sometimes what initially seems like a disaster can end up producing an even better end result.

10. Take a chance!

This should probably be the first step on this list, but almost all these steps could come in any order, and sometimes end up needing to happen all at once. My point is, it’s actually a lot easier and a hell of a lot more rewarding than you’d expect—you just need to take that first step. Start turning your ideas into action, and you’d be surprised at how many things just sort themselves out. Just always keep your goal in mind, and what made you passionate enough to start working towards it. If you take any advice from all this, just give yourself a bit more time to do it all in!

In Conversation: Angela Hewitt

I love what you’ve said about making the piano sing, because you loved to perform songs and dances as a kid! How do you incorporate that philosophy into your practice and performance?

I’m usually singing for 6 hours a day. I never play a musical phrase without imagining it being sung, and I really believe that every music student should learn how to sing and dance, because that’s how all music began. There is absolutely no use playing any instrument like a machine, and it doesn’t matter if your voice is bad, so you have no reason not to sing! It helps you feel and respond to the places you should be breathing, just as dance helps you identify the strong and weak beats in a piece. Movement gives the rhythm some buoyancy which is completely fundamental to music. If you have those things you can perform: singing and dancing have become innate to me now - it’s just how I express music. When I play a Bach minuet I imagine the dance, which is very stately: the upper body is kept very still and your feet do all the movement work, then you can flirt with the eyes at your partner or audience. It's about poise: all those dances need a certain poise and elegance that can be incorporated into your performance.

As a performer, how do you stay inspired and fresh in the practice room, particularly when you’re about to tour a program of works that you’ve played before?

I never feel like any performance is routine, and like to change programs an awful lot. There are some musicians who have one recital program that they perform over and over again wherever they tour, but I’m not that way. I couldn't do it! It's important that I don’t give myself time to get tired of a program, and honestly, there's always something new you can find within a piece. Then when you're performing things are never routine - every piano is different, every hall is different and every audience is different. It's never routine. I never think "oh God not this again!". There are pieces I’ve played hundreds of times, and that in itself can be liberating.

Why Bach? What can piano students learn from studying the works of Bach quite closely?

Every pianist really must do Bach from the beginning, and I think it's fantastic to always have one in your repertoire at any given time. From Bach you learn discipline and good phrasing, articulation and coordination. You develop strength in each finger independently because you’re often playing multiple voices, which helps you learn counterpoint well, and this will help you with Brahms, Chopin, Mozart, etc. It'll help you with every composer! Bach is the best technical exercise, but it's also the best for developing musical intelligence. He didn’t tell you how to play his pieces: there is space for you to make decisions about dynamics and phrasing. People complain because there is not much there but there’s actually so much for you to do! My father was an organist who played all the great organ works, and my mother was a pianist so they encouraged me to always have some Bach on the go, and it became the formation of my technique. I’ve played every piece that he wrote for keyboard, and it’s nice to revisit them and see what new colours you bring 10, 15, 20 years on. You are changing along the way, so you bring more life or greater emotional depth to the pieces as time goes on. They are pieces that will always change as you change. The fact they don’t have markings can give you so much freedom.

You're doing a new piece in this tour - Beethoven's Sonata in F minor, op 2 no 1. How did you go about learning it?

I started the Beethoven a month ago - it’s not the most difficult one! I have my approach pretty well developed now: once I have the piece memorised, I play it for friends at home, so when I get on stage, it's not the first time to have performed it. I study on airplanes and get it into my head as well. When you approach a new piece there are so many things to consider, but something I definitely don’t do is listen to lots of other people play the work I'm learning. It's much more beneficial for me to spend time deciding on fingerings and making decisions on my own about how I'm going to play it. It's also important to note that you should never leave memory to chance - spend time identifying where you could go wrong, and why that is. You have to learn consciously.

What are your thoughts on competitions for young pianists? Do they still launch careers, and how do you deal with not placing, considering it’s more likely statistically that you won’t win?

I think it’s important to do them, but only if you're going in with the right attitude. They're a really fantastic opportunity to learn repertoire that you perhaps wouldn’t play otherwise, and perform at an international level, which is a great thing when you’re young. They also give you the opportunity to see a new country and meet other pianists which is really special. But you have to just get up and try to play your best because it is honestly much harder to play well in a competition than a concert. If you have the nerve for it, do it, but you don't have to. And remember, it’s not the end of the world if you get kicked out in the first round! It strengthens your character, which is good! Juries can range from 3 to 12 people, which means you’re going to have lots of different tastes, and people won’t always vote for you, no matter how good you are, and you cannot control what is going to happen in a jury room. Then if you do win, that’s great, but it only gives you a certain amount. Not everything is going to be handed to you on a silver platter following a big win. I couldn’t just sit on my heels and wait for agents to do stuff - when I got my first concert at Wigmore Hall, I designed the flyers and did all those extra things myself. It took me 15 years to fill the hall! I got my first record contract myself too - it's not enough to just play the notes. Young pianists need to be entrepreneurial and get out and create opportunities for themselves. The world is different now and it’s easier to have visibility through social media and the internet, but you have to be creative. Don’t ever just sit there expecting.

Building a portfolio is really important for creating a sustainable career for many young musicians now - what are your thoughts on becoming a concert pianist in today’s climate, and what other skills do young musicians really need to be working on expanding to have success on the concert circuit?

You have to be good at everything! Young pianists need to be good at not only performing, though you do have to be extremely good at that. When you walk out on stage you have to grab the audiences attention - not extravagantly, but you have to know how to draw them in and make them want to listen. You also need to be able to stand being alone in a foreign city, do your taxes, deal with agents - it’s not all glamorous. I think you have to have great inner strength, because it’s really difficult. It’s not a normal life giving 100 concerts a year, so you have to be willing to give things up. There’s a million ways to make a living though, including chamber music and teaching, so one has to realise that while very few will make it as a touring virtuoso, music should and can always be a part of your life.

Musical Partnership: Andrew Arceci and Elizabeth Hungerford

This record features a stunning selection of duo repertoire from the late renaissance and early baroque periods, with each piece centring in some way on the themes mentioned in its title - love and lust. How did you go about programming the album, and what was your research process for finding repertoire?

AA: Elizabeth and I overlapped at Peabody Conservatory-Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, MD. Mark Cudek, the collegium director, gave us Amarilli mia bella and suggested we "do something interesting with it". Several years later, and having explored much repertoire just the two of us (soprano and viol accompaniment), we decided on early English and Italian repertoire; much later came the title, solidifying the particular tracks, etc.

EH: The basic idea for the disc is already pretty unique in that we had to come up with custom arrangements for soprano and viola da gamba, and wanted the music selections to reflect that uniqueness as well. We had a few pieces we knew we wanted to include such as the incredible “Conzonetta Spirituale sopra alla nanna” by Merula, which is about the Virgin Mary, and pieces such as “Beauty Since You so Much Desire”, in which I fake an orgasm at the end of the song. A theme that could accommodate both of these pieces could really only have been one of “love and lust”!

You have a rather extensive discography that features your work both as a soloist and an ensemble member. What was the recording process like for Love and Lust, and how does making a recording differ from live performance?

AA: Risk makes live performance exciting; anything could happen! For me, the recording process is about capturing a process when together with colleagues, the recording engineer, and/or the producer. I think the album (Love & Lust) captured the performances - the sessions in London - quite well.

EH: The recording process for Love and Lust was pretty exhausting. Andrew flew to London from Boston for the week and we rehearsed as much as we could before the recording started. My house in South London is quite a distance from the church we hired to record in in North London, so at one point we decided to crash at a cheap hotel nearby in order to avoid some of the traveling. The hotel was actually converted horse stables so it was pretty bare bones, but we were just relieved to get a decent night’s rest! (I was also very newly pregnant when we recorded this disc, so between that and the jet lag, we needed the rest!) Andrew and I are both very much perfectionists. We are both happy to do the same take over and over again until it is *just right* where a lot of other people may have moved on. That being said, it was very helpful for us to be working with a producer whose opinion we trusted. If he said we had gotten what we needed, we were usually happy to leave it.

It has received fantastic reviews from a number of publications already! Can you tell me about what the purpose of reviewing is to you as a performer, and how you deal with the reviews you get, whether they be positive or negative?

AA: We've enjoyed a number of reviews from publications in the UK, the US, and Australia. If one "cherishes" the good reviews, then one should accept the bad reviews. However, it's important to remember that any review is one person's opinion. (An institution is never giving you a review, but 1 writer from that institution, and should be quoted/referenced properly.) An artist must move forward, with or without glowing reviews; that said, it's certainly nice to be lauded!

EH: As performers, we often do our best work when we make ourselves vulnerable. Andrew and I are very compatible as performers as we both aren’t afraid to put it all on the line. We’ve made some strong choices in this disc that won’t be for everyone, and we are okay with that. Ultimately, as long as we are happy with the product we produced, that is more important than any review, good or bad.

I have read that you crowdfunded the production of this CD, which is becoming more and more common for musicians and artists across the world. How did your campaign work, and what are the benefits of crowdsourcing projects for musicians?

AA: Yes, we secured the funds within several days! The majority of contributions were $25, $50, and $100 USD. We built a network of patrons through concerts, and enough people were enthusiastic about the repertoire. We've acknowledged the patrons, but would like to thank them again. We could not have recorded the album without their support!

EH: Andrew and I were definitely nervous about the fundraising process as the platform we fundraised on would not release the funds to us unless we hit our (very optimistic) goal. We knew we had a lot of support, but we were definitely overwhelmed by the response: we raised over $10K in less than a week! It was a very humbling experience that made the production of the disc even more special for us. Since we were then able to fund the disc ourselves, we were able to make all of the decisions ourselves. While this could be overwhelming for some people, Andrew and I really appreciated the opportunity to make this disc exactly what we wanted it to be. All decisions - from the repertoire, to the edits, to the cover design - were up to us. While it would be nice to have less work to do on subsequent discs, we really enjoyed the freedom we were allowed for this first disc. I would also like to thank all of the donors. We simply could not have done it without them!

Is there a similarity between your preparatory approach to contemporary music and early music? How do the two complement one another, in your experience?

EH: I never got into singing much contemporary music as my career has been almost entirely in the early music genre. However, I have sung quite a bit of jazz in my day and I find that early music and jazz are quite similar. In my experience, both genres are more about story telling and interpretation than technique. I also really enjoy the approach to both early music and jazz. While you could get in big trouble for changing even one note in an opera aria, if you sing exactly what is on the page in jazz, it is simply wrong. You are meant to make it your own thing. Look at the music, pass it through your humanity, then sing it. The notes on the page are just a guide. I try to bring the same approach to early music.

Both you and Elizabeth are alumni of The Peabody Institute - did you begin playing together during your studies? Can you tell me about your journey as musical partners, and what you've learnt about ensemble work from playing together?

AA: We performed together quite often when we were both in the UK, less the last several years due to the distance, but also familial deaths, births, etc. I was born in Boston, but lived in Cincinnati for several years, Baltimore, New York, Oxford, then between Oxford, London, and Boston; I currently live in Concord, MA. Bethie is from Seattle, but currently lives in London, England.

EH: As Andrew mentioned earlier, the head of Peabody’s Early Music Department, Mark Cudek, assigned us to work together on a piece for a school concert. He essentially put us in a room together and told us to figure it out on our own. Andrew and I had met before that day, but really didn’t know each other vey well at all. As it turns out, Mark knew what he was doing when he put us together as that day was just the beginning of a lot of music making between the two of us! It can be difficult to find collaborators with whom you can freely share ideas and experiment with in a fun, productive way, so when you find someone you can work with in that way, you don’t let them go! (Bonus if you also enjoy their company over a beer or two after rehearsal!)

What is it about early music for the voice that inspires and engages you?

EH: I don’t have a natural vibrato in my voice (really!) which is often a preferred sound for early choral music. It wasn’t until later that I learned to add vibrato (though I mostly use it as an ornament) and was then able to more confidently sing more early solo rep. However, this didn’t happen until I was well into my twenties and so I was a bit late to the game. Had I begun to formally study voice earlier straight out of high school, I would likely have ended up in a more traditional music school that focuses on opera. I am lucky I didn’t because my voice simply isn’t suited for opera! It is, however, well suited for early music. Much of this rep was written for my exact voice type and so I find it very enjoyable and comfortable to sing. I also happen to find it achingly beautiful and endlessly inspiring, so what’s not to love!

In Conversation: Tracy Friedlander

Your podcast, Crushing Classical, is all about promoting career options for performers, and helping break down some of the barriers around talking about what classical musicians can be. Can you tell me about how it started, and what sparked its beginning?

Yes! Crushing Classical started out as a Facebook page called Horn Wise. I talked about stories from my career and things like how much debt I had from music school (something I noticed that people mostly didn’t talk about publicly). As I spent more time looking around online I noticed there were many musicians who were doing some cool things outside of a job in an orchestra. That was when I decided to start the podcast, which led to the movement to talk about broadening what is possible for a career as a classical musician. And that’s when I changed the name to Crushing Classical.

What I aim to do is challenge musicians to think outside the problem they think they have, which is that there are limited jobs and too many competitors for those jobs. Musicians can choose to be the creator of their career vs. making a job in an orchestra the definition of their career. There is so much more potential and also so much more freedom. This is what I’ve been seeing in my own career in both myself and the people around me for the last 15 years as a professional freelance horn player.

What sparked the beginning of Crushing Classical was exactly this. I made playing in an orchestra the end-all-be-all of my own career, and thought that my quest for a job of my own would never end until I got one. In 2005 I left the Chicago freelance scene when I was offered a job - I was the runner-up to an audition and they offered me a per-service job with no contract, but it was full-time orchestra work. I was ready to make a consistent income, so I picked up and moved. I ended up meeting my husband, getting married, and having a daughter. That was when my priorities changed; I liked where I lived, and I didn’t want to keep searching and never knowing where I’d go next. I actually wanted to live my life. But after all the excitement of being newly married and becoming a mother, I really still wanted more in my career, but the answer wasn’t to get back on the audition path again. I wanted to contribute to the musician community. I wanted to bring value. I wanted to talk about the things that I’ve been seeing in the orchestra world for so long and that I didn’t know coming out of college. Every day more and more students graduate from music school expecting to enter a job market that doesn’t have enough jobs for everyone. I’ve seen this problem for a long time and noticed that no one is really talking about it. As I went deeper, I saw that it was only part of the problem. I also knew that so many musicians like me working professionally want more for their own careers and a conversation like this could be valuable to them as well.

As well as running CC, you are a classically-trained professional horn player. When in your career did you begin thinking about career options for musicians, and how did your own personal experiences as a practicing musician influence the work you are doing now?

I honestly didn’t start to think much about career options for other musicians until I started Crushing Classical. I recognised for a long time that young musicians are facing an even tougher job market than they did when I was coming out of school. After starting Crushing Classical, I saw that it really goes deeper than not enough jobs. The problem is that most musicians think a job is their only option. I also saw that the classical world is not changing with the times. Musicians in the orchestra world aren’t taking the bull by the horns to make changes and helping classical music thrive. There are a number of musicians creating new ensembles but the majority of the larger orchestras remain operating in the same antiquated way.

My own personal experiences as a musician influence my work greatly. Despite having a pretty good resume of professional experience, I always felt that because I didn’t reach my ultimate goal of a paid orchestra position of my own, I didn’t have a “real” career. As I reflected on it, I saw some important things about how skewed the musician point of view is about the “almighty job”. As a regular player in the same orchestra for nearly 10 seasons, I learned a lot about the inner workings of orchestras and what a job is really like on a day to day basis: things you don’t think about as you fantasise about how amazing it will be to someday get paid to play your instrument for a living. Simply put, the work isn’t sexy. It was very enlightening to see this and has definitely influenced my point of view about the orchestra world.

Can you explain what a portfolio career means, and what it can look like for a classically trained musician?

It’s common for musicians to create freelance careers that include playing a whole bunch of gigs and teaching - whether they have a full-time position in an orchestra or not. In today’s world, you cannot really be a musician on one salary or income stream. It’s necessary to take it a step further and develop skills outside playing and teaching. Classical musicians tend to make what they do their identity, so they think doing something outside of performing makes them less of a musician. The possibilities are endless. And if you’re lucky enough to create an income stream from something you love, you can say no to gigs you don’t want. For example, if you have a thriving recording business, you’ll have the freedom to turn down gigs you don’t actually want. And the truth is that turning down gigs you don’t want makes room for opportunities you DO want.

What are the skills outside of instrument mastery that are really important for young performers to learn while they’re still studying?

I personally wish I would have learned improvising, arranging and composing. I wish there was talk of learning new genres or even working on creating your own hybrid genres - which goes into the arranging and composing thing. Time spent memorising historical dates in school could be better spent learning a skill you can actually use, such as understanding technology like sound recording or video editing. And the number one skill everyone should have is the ability to enrol people in their ideas - which is what selling yourself is. When you can enrol people in what you’re up to, anything is possible. There’s an art to getting people on board with what you want to do. Think of people who created successful music festivals or programs that relied on funding or donations. Each of those people had to be able to talk to people, engage them and enrol them in what they wanted to do. This feeds directly into the importance of audience building. It’s a noisy world. There are way too many entertainment choices. If you have an idea for a great ensemble or something to present, it’s up to you to build your own audience. Classical musicians go through school not thinking about the audience. What a mistake! Gone are the days where you can only perfect your playing and emerge to an awaiting audience. When you’re in school, everything is ready-made for you. It’s a false sense of reality. Students don’t have to create anything. And then when they finally arrive in the real world, it’s a shock. Bottom line is you have to create your reality, and the first time is when you step out of school. Today’s world requires you to start creating well before you exit your degree program.

Talking about finance and money-making can sometimes be a little challenging for musicians because of the dialogue that surrounds arts practice and being a “starving artist”. How do we change that dialogue, and what do you wish all young musicians would understand about making money through their art?

What I’d like musicians to get is that you don’t have to be a starving artist. It’s not a requirement. The mindset around money is so much deeper than how much cash you have in your bank account at the moment. It reflects what you think you’re worth and what you’re willing to do for money. If you believe there’s a money ceiling and you’re only “allowed” to make a certain amount of money, you’ll create that for yourself. I can attest to having a scarcity mentality for a long time. When I auditioned for jobs with small salaries, I was confident and played well at the audition. For jobs that seemed like a crazy awesome amount of money, I sabotaged my playing.

When I first started CC, I didn’t talk about money with my guests. As Crushing Classical evolved, I brought on my contributing partner, Eileen. She’s a former musician who went into the business world. She asked me directly why I didn’t talk about money on the podcast. My only reason was that it felt awkward. After that conversation, I quickly got over it. I realized the awkwardness IS the reason why no one talks about it.

I’ve personally had enough of musicians justifying going into massive amounts of school debt (I did) with no plan of how they’ll pay it back. I know this problem exists in other careers, and it’s a glaring problem for music majors. Most are coming out of a degree program with maybe ONE idea of how they’ll make money - and six figures worth of debt. It’s a real problem. What I wish all young musicians would understand about making money through their art is there is no rule that you have to starve. That’s ridiculous. Many musicians have proven that notion wrong. Starvation is a choice and it begins with your mindset around money.

What are some of the major challenges facing young arts practitioners today, and how can they be proactive about driving their own careers?

I’d say the main challenges for everyone in the arts is how much entertainment there is available today. The internet has created constant and mostly free or cheap entertainment. Audiences are changing and orchestral audiences are dwindling. Giving people what they want would be a good place to start. Looking in other areas of entertainment (other genres of music, other entertainment industries, etc.) for ideas is another place to start. I’m looking forward to seeing what classical musicians create as the future unfolds.

Musicians can be proactive by building their own audience. Document your journey on social media. It’s a great way to build an audience that’s interested in your story. Include the highs and lows, the successes and failures. No one wants to watch a social media account loaded with next concert notifications. People want to be entertained and they love a good story - happy or sad. Keep learning, get skilled, create multiple streams of income. And of course, listen to Crushing Classical podcast on iTunes and join the conversation for even more ideas on how to be proactive about driving your own career.

In Conversation: Ruth Blythman

Silver Rain is an immersive multi-genre production, featuring projections and opera, with a score written by Ricky Ian Gordon around the words of famous American poets. Can you tell me about how this concept came to be, and what have you learnt through the process of producing the piece?

The creation of SILVER RAIN has very much been a collaborative process between myself, our director, Zac Tyler, projection designer Michael Carmody and our other performer Kirilie Blythman (who yes, also doubles as my very talented sister).

I’ve always really loved poetry and a few years ago I was working on a song cycle by Andre Previn set to Emily Dickinson poems. Kirilie told me to look at Ricky Ian Gordon’s work, some of which she had performed herself and which was also set to poetry. I fell madly in love with his music! Gordon writes beautifully for voice; the relationship he creates between the text and music is so evocative. It was like this glorious creative vortex I found myself falling into. I saw so many stunning images jumping out of the music, which urged me to discuss with Zac the concept of a show pairing Gordon’s pieces with large-scale projection; the idea just grew from there. Around the same time, I saw a show that Michael, our projection designer was working on at Dancehouse. I was really inspired by his work. I can’t tell you how thrilled I was when he was able to join the team.

I’m very happy to say that the biggest lesson I l have learnt from producing Silver Rain is the power of working with people who you really connect with. Everyone in the team is not only phenomenal at what they do but are an absolute joy to share the creative process with. We all take what we do seriously and share a lot of respect for one another but can have a laugh in the rehearsal room, too.

Your company, Release Creative, was born out of the combined skills of you and your business partner, Zac Tyler, and your passion for creating new works. How important is it for artists to be making their own opportunities to have their work heard - whether they are composers, visual artists, performers, etc. - and how do you recommend young artists get started?

Zac and I are passionate about this topic and I think it’s tremendously important for young or emerging artists to be creating work and initiating their opportunities.

Advice to get started? Here’s my three-step guide:

1) Go out and see work.

Not just works within your own genre – see comedy, dance, cabaret, straight plays, go to art galleries – you never know where the next light bulb moment might hit you! It gives you a chance to think about what you like and don’t like when you experience live performance and this will ultimately help inform your own creative voice. Plus, you’re supporting the arts! Win-win!

2) Ask questions.

Don’t be scared to admit that you don’t know everything and to ask questions of people who have more experience than you in certain areas. Sometimes the questions can seem limitless and crippling but there’s always someone or something that can shed light on a subject that may not be your area of expertise. Personally, I research a lot. I go to books, blogs and peers to find answers to things I don’t yet feel I have the confidence to tackle on my own. I also have a great professional mentor in Tim Stitz (Creative Director and CEO at Chamber Made Opera). He’s someone I know I can always go to with questions or ask advice and it allows me to go into certain situations with a different kind of posture because I’ve aired out concerns that I’ve had with someone I trust and respect. If there’s someone in the industry that particularly inspires you, tell them, and invite them out for a coffee. More often than not, you’ll find that they will be happy to give you some of their time and share advice with you if you ask them in a humble and respectful manner.

3) Just do it!

Seek out collaborative relationships with peers, take the plunge and book the venue, put the grant application in - whatever it takes to get the project rolling. The rest is trial, error and ultimately experience.

You are not only a producer, but a featured performer in Silver Rain as well. How does your performative background inform your production style, and vice versa?

Zac and I have both worked as performers and that does help inform how we approach the creation of new work and end up producing it through Release Creative. First and foremost, we talk about the essence of the project and what we want it to achieve – what makes it fascinating and thought provoking? We synchronously discuss the concepts from a producing perspective, where we think we could present the works, what kind of audience it would appeal to, if it’s possible from a financial perspective, and who we could partner with to make the project a reality. So I guess you could say the two worlds of performing and producing co-exist whenever we create work through Release Creative.

Having a portfolio career in the performing arts is becoming, if it is not already, one of the most efficient and popular ways to make a living in the industry. Can you tell me about your portfolio career, and what advice you have to young performers looking to diversify their skills?

I have a business degree majoring in marketing so I suppose that has informed how I have approached my creative career on a more practical level. I also spent the last few years working as Company Manager for contemporary dance company, KAGE (tickets to OUT OF EARSHOT on sale now). So having done that, as well as with my own producing and performing projects, means I often have people asking me what I will eventually give up to prioritise one thing in particular – performing, producing or running a company. However, I see all of these things now being inextricably linked to one another. An interdisciplinary career is very much the type of career that interests me. Any given week I could be a performer, producer, company manager, marketer or tour manager and I love that! For a performer with a portfolio career, I think the benefits are two-fold. First, having more than one string to your bow gives you perspective and makes you even more aware of the fact that your identity and worth isn’t defined by your last performance. Secondly, it means you are able to think of your own creative output as a viable business, something you - not the industry - have ultimate control over. It puts the performer behind the wheel and gives them the capacity to diversify income streams without feeling reliant on and wedded to one particular segment of the sector.

How has your background as a dancer informed your professional career as an opera singer?

On stage, I think it’s made me quite aware of my body and the bodies of the people with whom I am sharing the stage. I think it’s also taught me a lot about discipline. For instance, in a ballet class, there’s no talking. When a choreographer is in the room you always have one eye on them just in case they are ready to give you new steps or direction. I think this has very much informed what I am like in the rehearsal room and on stage. I tend to have one eye on the director or musical director and rehearsals are not a time to catch up with friends. It may sound rather cold but there is a job to be done and I do take that very seriously in the same way dancers do when they are taking professional classes or preparing for a production.

Between running your own company and running your own freelance practice, you must have had to develop a whole lot of business skills! What are some of the most important things you’ve learnt about working in the industry that aren’t to do with performance technique or the art of singing?

At the risk of making a really bad marketing joke... let's call it the three P’s: Professionalism, Priorities and Planning.

The value of professionalism is a big one and it definitely is a skill - please acquire it! Be on time, be prepared, treat your colleagues with respect – nothing we don’t all know how to do but it's surprising how many people don't do these little things that do have a very big impact on your overall 'brand'.

From a very practical perspective, I think ascertaining what your priorities are for certain projects is really important. Where does the real value lie? For instance, some projects may make a profit, some may make a loss but the currency doesn’t always have to be financial. For example, if you're performing a work to a community that wouldn’t usually have access to the arts, the currency would be accessibility and outreach. At the end of the day, as long as your financial forecasting is realistic and you end up being able to make a living from what you do, the rest can be worked out on a case-by-case basis.

Finally, the positive impact of effective planning cannot be underestimated! Every few months I sit down and put together a fairly detailed plan of what I want the next 12-18 months to look like for me as a performer and for Release Creative as a company. I then set smaller goals and this allows me to look quite seriously at what is possible from a pragmatic perspective. In saying that, I remember one of my business lecturers saying that arguably the most important thing to do in business is to create a viable business plan. The next most important thing to do? Be prepared to throw it out the window when things change because change is inevitable. Plan for what you can plan for, and embrace opportunity and change as it presents itself.

In Conversation: Oliver Mann

There's always a mixture of excitement and torture to do with the anxiety about whether it’s going to come off, but putting on this concert is a choice that I made: I had other things that I could do, but I have wanted to do these cantatas for about a year and a half. In the end, it was a matter of if not now, then when?

On eclectic programming

I listen eclectically, and while I rarely use it, I love the idea of "shuffle". As consumers of music, we have the choice to hand over our listening decisions to algorithms and listen randomly. I’ve always loved eclectic programming, and the idea that you can, in a sense, listen to things and watch things that contrast, but find a truth or common thread throughout the entire program. Genre, taste, and other associations become irrelevant, and it becomes about the energy of the works. I love the idea of people trying to communicate an idea, then boiling music down to its very core fibre and trying to find a common truth in it that makes it accessible to everyone.

On career development

The voice that I’ve been given physically has lent itself to classical music, and so the original music that I write has gone hand in hand with me developing a living out of singing. I grew up singing in a choir, my career has developed what I sing and where I sing it - and the context in which I sing has come about as a matter of necessity. Through that combination of wanting to sing and needing to make money, I’ve sung a lot in choirs and churches, as well as performing with the Opera Australia Schools tour. Singing a lot for primary school kids has been absolute heaven, and then to be able to write and perform my own stuff in clubs has been a fascinating alternative. The audiences that are the best are the ones where the people there want or need what you’re doing. Kids want to be affected and quite often it’s the same with churches. People want to be moved and elevated, which is why music making can be so joyful on both sides.

On the logistics of concert planning

I sing a lot of Bach cantatas, and I see a lot of these musicians coming through programs like the one at St Johns Southgate. I touch base with the people I see every week, and ask them how they're going and what their news is, and then they tune to 415 and bring out their weird and wonderful instruments, and we get stuck into work. When I decided to get this project going, I just got on the phone with those musicians that I work with frequently and said I’m doing a cantata, and they said great, let’s do it! As far as Mick goes, I used slightly different language: "I’m putting together a bill, would you like to play a set?" Quite often he does a 40 minute set with loop pedals creating big lush soundscapes, but here it'll be a lot more raw. We're not trying to create a fusion between the genres, we’re just contrasting and juxtaposing. We’re also having Alan Brough introduce the music - he’s very funny and lovely and a dear friend, and he’s going to put people in a comfy space. He's not going to talk about the complexities of the music, but instead just chat and make people feel happy and comfortable. It’ll be a lovely evening!

On finding a space

That is certainly another big thing: taking this music out of a sacred context. It is an important thing for me to get out of that environment, and present it in a contemporary secular setting. I love the idea of consuming music in such a modern way. People now have a choice, like we spoke about before: you can subscribe to Spotify premium, and then flick to whatever you want at the drop of a hat. You can listen to music everywhere, it has become completely ubiquitous. People can now come to a concert in a factory in Brunswick - you don’t have to go to a church in the suburbs to hear it. And this music really does deserve the same audience, and it deserves contrast.

On context of sacred works in a modern space

We live in an age where it’s hard to find a space of peace. We are compelled to touch and investigate and Google and check our mobile phones. We’re addicted to updates and news jolts, and as a result, we're getting information all the time. I was lucky in that I was maybe 18 or 19 when I had my first email address, so I haven't had the experience that people in their early 20s have now, where they've never experienced a time without being so connected. It’s conducive to anxiety and stress, but it’s subliminal, and you only realise how peaceful it is when you turn off your phone. These cantatas are about finding a happiness in death, and while that thought has no solace for me, I think it can be reread in finding a happiness in disconnect and in quiet.

On broadening your listening

Listening widely is really important because you get to see what will move you - and sometimes it's not anywhere near what you'd imagine. Some friends and I are part of an album club, where every fortnight we get together and listen to an album that none of us have heard before from start to finish without talking (if you talk you get banished). How can that kind of engagement with new music not inform your performance practice? It not only informs you as a practising musician on a technical level but it also affects your desire to communicate. That’s one of the things that baffles me about tertiary institutionalised music learning - you go through the classical music treadmill and come out at the other end with amazing skills, but you have no idea how creative you are! If you're a piano student, you’re not just good for the Chopin, you’re good for so many other things. If singers with this amazing facility sat down and come up with their own ideas, the industry could be so much wider. I'm always blown away with the facility of musicians who go through the tertiary process, and if they don’t get one of the finite amount of gigs available they lose confidence and move in a different direction. You don't need to!

On making a profit

Emotional support is really important, and financial support is almost even more so. You have to be prepared to diversify and be creative with the way you approach your discipline: expand on it, and push boundaries! It's important to be your own judge. We’re often told by someone else that we’re good enough or not good enough, but that's one person's opinion, and if you are invested, it shouldn't be enough to push you away. It’s about being versatile and saying "okay, I have this skill, I’ve aspired to this thing (for example, being a principal artist with an opera company) since I was 17 years old, but I didn’t get accepted", then figuring out your next step. You don’t need to give up. You have a huge amount of skills, so put together something new. If you don’t find the answers right away you might want to throw your hands up in the air and do something entirely different, and while it’s a matter of persevering and being passionate, it’s also a matter of being creative at how you can best use your skills. Failure can equal skill expansion if you allow yourself to think that way. Keep going.

Musical Partners: Lotte Betts-Dean and Joseph Havlat

Rehearsal Magazine: Can you tell me a little about what Messiaen's Harawi means to you, and why you decided to perform it?

Lotte Betts-Dean: We first performed a section of the work in Feb 2015 as part of a recital at the Royal Academy of Music that also included the Judith Weir we will be performing in Melbourne, Songs from the Exotic, and a beautiful Swedish song cycle by Sigurd Von Koch, Exotiska Sånger. It's a piece I had been wanting to perform, as I've always been a huge fan of Messiaen and have performed some of his songs before from Poemes Pour Mì. When we started working on Harawi we instantly fell in love with the piece and knew we wanted to eventually perform the whole piece.

Joseph Havlat: I've always been a big fan of Messiaen, but my first proper introduction came through my teacher Joanna MacGregor, with whom I worked on his 'Oiseaux Exotiques' back in 2013. I admit I was not very familiar with Harawi until Lotte suggested it - I think I had listened to it maybe once. Looking through it myself though it proved to be just as satisfying to play as his solo and concertante works. I'm basically just a sucker for thick, lush harmonies so it's right up my street. I like working on big, multi-movement pieces like this too, as it allows the span of the emotional journey to be greater and requires a lot of thought into its architecture and pacing.

RM: How did the work initially come to your attention for that 2015 recital?

LBD: It's a piece I had been interested in learning for quite a few years after stumbling upon it while researching repertoire back when I was an undergrad at Melbourne Uni. When we were offered this recital at the Academy I knew it would be a perfect choice. I had just met Joseph and was wildly impressed with his playing - especially of contemporary repertoire - and this is certainly the type of song cycle that requires a very skilled pianist. It's an incredibly virtuosic and challenging part and I had felt I had found someone with whom I would feel confident attempting it with.

RM: Absolutely! A piece like this must require a lot of trust between the pianist and the singer. I read that the work is staggeringly difficult for both performers. Can you tell me about some of the challenges it presents?

LBD: I love singing music that challenges me, both vocally and extra-vocally. This piece certainly pushes both singer and pianist and the prospect of getting it under my belt was really thrilling to me. When I met Joe I knew I had found someone I could trust with this piece- he is supremely gifted and confident, yet also surprisingly relaxed in his playing, which certainly puts the singer at ease when tackling this sort of music. Rhythmically it's extraordinarily challenging and relentless in parts, and as is typical of Messiaen, it certainly isn't a walk in the park melodically either. Some of the material is repeated and recycled in the work which makes our task a little easier, but I would say it is probably the hardest piece I've sung to date.

JH: A piece like this does indeed require a lot of trust. The indivudal rhythmic and melodic intricacies within both the voice and piano mean that a successful performance requires complete understanding of the other's part. There are no time signatures, and each bar is often a different length to the previous, so you've got to make sure that you are both feeling the same pulse, even if that is also changing frequently as well. Messiaen can be somewhat easier to perform than other contemporary music in that it is still mostly based on scales (albeit ones Messiaen has himself developed), so there is still a harmonic system that you can instinctively latch on to when thinking about phrasing, colour or even just pitching notes - it is not completely atonal. Pianistically, there are numerous technical difficulties, mainly stemming from the fact that the music is not written to naturally fit under the fingers. It's often awkward and thick, meaning there's a lot of work to be done to even play the notes in the first place, but then to properly voice each chord etc. Messiaen also likes his imitation as well, and there's frequent birdsong which appears everywhere in his works, but also directions to imitate other instruments - bass clarinet, french horn, bells etc. All this is the same for much contemporary music, but this is part of why I enjoy doing it so much. It's like putting together a difficult jigsaw puzzle.

RM: Can you tell me a bit about the collaborative process of putting this work together? What does a standard rehearsal look like for you at the moment, and how much of the work has been done away from your instruments?

LBD: Often I will do a lot of the "homework" on my own prior to the initial rehearsals, but with this piece it was different. We learnt it together, in a way. Of course there is the initial process of learning the notes- Joe was incredibly helpful (and patient!) while I polished the more difficult phrases and intervals. As we became more familiar with the piece the rehearsal process became surprisingly easy- it is very melodic in parts, and idiosyncratic to Messiaen's style, so it became more about repeating it in chunks to the point where we felt comfortable.

JH: I did a lot of work on my own simply learning notes, it's not the kind of piece you can start at the first rehearsal with no prior preparation. We'd go through song by song, only really working on the parts where we are together (there are lots of sections that are just solo piano). The method of rehearsal would change depending on the song, but usually, we would try and get it all together at once (melody + rhythm + harmony), as that was the best way to find out what didn't work, and from there build up from rhythm, adding melody and then harmony. Once we were confident in the notes themselves, we went back and thought about the structure and phrase, and see if anything needed changing from what we did instinctively. I guess the first couple of rehearsals were mostly spent on the gritty note-bashing stuff until we had that down, and then it became a little more musical and thoughtful. We learnt the first half of the piece first because we only performed that in our original recital, which turned out to be a good thing as it allowed us to internalise the first 6 songs. Coming back to it about a year later we've found it's all still there which is very reassuring.

Did approaching this piece differently by working on it together from the start change the way you were able to approach things like making musical decisions about phrasing and emphasis?

JH: Approaching the piece together is good; I like working that way because nobody feels like they're 'catching up' and it allows us both to still be flexible, which is definitely a requirement in a piece like this. On the first play through, listening to how Lotte sings a phrase, or where she breathes, or the tonal colour she uses is a great second opinion on how a song functions and is structured. The text is so unusual and imaginative that it frequently completely altered much of my view of the piano part once I'd heard them together.

What is your advice for producing and programming concerts for young performers? Is there anything you've learnt having put on your own solo recitals, as well as your performances with Ensemble x.y?

JH: Variety is what you need when programming, especially when you're working with new music. You need to keep the audience and indeed the performers on their toes. I find a theme always works well when thinking of what pieces to put together - it can be as broad or specific as you want - but you still want to have pieces linked together in some way, no matter how different they may be aurally or conceptually. For example, we recently had an x.y concert centred around the Fluxus movement stemming from John Cage, which involved a lot of theatrical music, improvisation and performance art. Before that, we've had a concert centred around chamber music that has 3 clarinets in them (because we had 3 clarinets available). I had a solo concert last year centred around folk music, where I played music by Hungarian and Czech composers that were based on folk melodies or dances, and then ended with a piece I'd written myself based on Hungarian folk melodies. I find it good to write down any programming ideas I get, whether it's thinking of two or more pieces that I think might complement each other or a theme for a programme etc.

In Conversation: Stewart Kelly

What do you see as the role of The Talent, in terms of encouraging and mentoring the upcoming solo performers around Australia?

Any opportunity for young musicians to perform is something to support and encourage. So much is learnt about a piece and your level of understanding of it, not to mention the fact that the way you react under pressure in one ten minute performance can teach you so much more that that which could be gleaned from many hours of practice. Up and coming musicians need the chance to be heard in public as much as possible, and need the chance to receive feedback from more experienced performers. The Talent does this in a special way through the medium of live radio which poses its own challenges and provides a very different but still high-pressure performance environment. The Talent helps give exposure to these promising talents while allowing them to learn and develop their playing.

Finding mentoring and advice on your playing and career is important for the entirety of your life as a musician, but completely integral in the early days: what should young musicians be looking for in terms of mentors or teachers?

I believe the most important thing is working with someone who possesses the skills to build you up both technically and psychologically. This doesn't mean someone who is endlessly positive or overly nice necessarily, but someone who understands the way you tick and understands what is required to execute at the instrument themselves. If you are wanting to be a performer, look for someone who's playing what you love and then see if you click with their manner of passing on their knowledge. Through my own studies, I've found that my best teachers were those who weren't prodigies or unusually gifted themselves. I've had one or two teachers who would fall into that category and they often struggled to explain what they were doing and sometimes even struggled to understand why I was having trouble with a certain passage or concept. Look for someone who has obtained a mastery through hard work and a true understanding of what they are doing and you will find it much easier to extract useful information from them.

Aside from required performance classes and examination recitals, it can be hard to find the opportunity to perform for an audience as a young musician. What are some of the options available to developing performers, and how important is the ability to create your own opportunities to be heard?

It's essential these days to create your own opportunities. And its never been easier! Get your phone and record something and put it online and you are on your way to finding an audience for your work. Park your ego somewhere and be prepared to do anything in your early years. Offer to go and play for nursing homes or small music clubs. Seek out eisteddfods and other competitions which can be a great chance to play in public. Contact a church or other venue and offer to perform if they will offer their space and assist in bringing an audience. The road is hard and relentless but potentially endlessly rewarding if you work hard enough.

What is different about performing on radio compared to a life performance? What should musicians new to performing live on-air be aware of?

Radio performance can be a very sterile experience. You are in this very acoustically dry studio, are given the signal and then have to play without any sense of audience energy or feedback. It can feel like a soulless environment and a rather unforgiving one. That said, it can also be very liberating, feeling like you are alone in this silent space that allows you to surrender entirely to your thoughts. Summoning the adrenaline to perform can sometimes be a little trickier. When Arthur Schnabel became the first person to record the Beethoven sonatas, he apparently insisted the record company pre sell the albums and he then kept a copy of all the names of people who had ordered on the piano during the recording process to feel like he had an audience. I love that story! In terms of a young performer approaching radio performance for the first time: remember that the crew around you are your best friends who only want to help make you sound better on air. Trust the crew that they know what to do to make you sound your best. Never forget you're surrounded by microphones and one small accident could have you unknowingly on air so always be professional and don't say anything around a microphone that you don't want the world to hear.

And the scarier bit - talking after your performance! What advice do you have for people who have never spoken live on air before?

Be yourself! It's amazing how any fakeness about you is immediately perceptible to the audience. You must be natural and just chat like you would with a group of friends. In a setting like this there aren't likely to be any trick questions or things you shouldn't know so there is no need to stress. In the particular context of The Talent, an important thing to remember is that even if you were unhappy with how you performed, it almost certainly came across better to the panel and audience so you must put those thoughts aside and leave any negativity at the door when you enter the studio so you can maintain a bright and friendly demeanour on air.

For the people listening from home, what can you take away from tuning into an episode of The Talent, even if you weren't performing in it yourself?

I think people who love music always find the deconstruction and constructive criticism of it interesting and educational. Certainly students can learn a great deal about their own instrument and repertoire but music lovers can perhaps be opened up to new genres of repertoire and ways of thinking about interpretation. One thing I often find interesting is that well read music lovers who are not trained musicians often have very finely honed ears and can identify very quickly what is really good playing and what doesn't grab them as much but often don't have the language to express why they react in this way. Hearing professionals criticise the performers can often provide revelations as to why they think the way they do about something. Of course there can also be fantastic opportunities for listeners to disagree strongly with what we as panelists thought! Occasionally there will be a great disagreement between the panelists too and that certainly makes interesting radio!

As a performer yourself, what advice do you have for the young musicians starting their performance journey?

Be prepared to fight for what you want and know that to really master what you are doing will take years and many countless hours of blood, sweat and tears. Know that there will be many, many days of disappointment and that they are the most important days in shaping who you finish up as. And know that what you are doing is important, special work that has the ability to transform lives. The world more than ever needs those whose preoccupation is on creating meaning and beautiful things...so get to it!

In Conversation: Shunske Sato

When did you first become interested in historical performance practice and what sparked your interest?

In hindsight, I see that the seeds were sown quite early on. My mother being a pianist and my father a music-lover, we had quite a collection of recordings at home, some of them on period instruments. I remember picking up on distinct and unusual sounds of these recordings, especially since my immediate surroundings at the time - living in Philadelphia and studying at Juilliard in New York - was pretty much completely absent of historically informed performers and performances. That all changed when I moved to Paris at age 19: concerts of first-class baroque musicians were suddenly within reach, luthiers selling baroque instruments a dime a dozen. I went for it full-throttle, and before long I was happily neck-deep in everything baroque. On the other hand, my interest for historical performance practices of later periods (19th century in particular) has its roots, once again, in childhood. Historical, pre-war recordings were part of my listening repertoire from an early age - for instance, for my 12th birthday, my parents gifted me a set of of Jascha Heifetz’s complete recordings, and I remember very well obsessing over his early recordings in particular. My following birthday was met with a similar CD set, but this time of Fritz Kreisler. Rachmaninoff’s recordings of his own concertos were very familiar to me, thanks to my mother. Never too early to start!

The Netherlands Bach Society – of which you are concertmaster – is currently undertaking the formidable project of recording all of Johann Sebastian Bach’s 1080 works. Can you tell us more about the project and what the experience has been like for you so far?

The project was launched in 2013 with the premise that all the video recordings would be done as live concerts, and that these recordings would be made available online, for everyone for absolutely free. Every Friday a new BWV number (an opus number of sorts for Bach) is released on the project’s website AllofBach.com - sometimes a cantata, other times an short invention for harpsichord. For us at the Bach Society it’s been an incredible privilege to do this, to have the sponsors behind us, the audiences around the world, and to dedicate our lives to Johann Sebastian. It is simply beyond me how every single work by him is so different from the next, yet unmistakably his, and always of the highest quality - and that, under extraordinary, constant professional and familial pressure! On a personal level, since these recordings are done live, it has toughened my skin considerably - it has trained my concentration levels to stay high during performances, but also it has taught me to let loose and let go, even under the threatening gaze of microphones and cameras. And listening to one’s own playing so often is the best kick in the pants one can get - it’s embarrassing and painful and informative and motivational like nothing else.

You have a young family. How do you balance your family life with your professional life, and what advice can you give our readers, many of whom are starting their professional careers, on achieving a healthy work/life balance?

In all honesty I am not sure if I have found that balance myself! Family is irreplaceable, work is enriching, and of course I want both; enter the art of prioritising. I try, wherever possible, to only accept work which I truly want to do, whatever the reasons might be. Perhaps it’s because it offers an opportunity to do something I’ve never done before, or the people involved, or even the location of the concert. Whatever it is, It has to fire me up - anything else is not worth it. Time is limited, and financial or career gain is not reason enough to deprive myself of family, a good book, time for self-improvement, or even some leisurely practicing. I see too many colleagues who fill their calendars beyond capacity, who come from and go to projects, uninspired and ghost-like. By removing the less-than-ideal obligations, one creates room for better things. And these better things will come - always.

What advice would you give to young musicians who are interested in historical performance practice but don’t know where to start?

Be obsessed! An obsession for early Italian baroque, or Schumann...whatever it is, it has to haunt you a bit, so that you will listen, read and furiously seek out till you’re satisfied. And one thing will lead to another: a keen interest in Bach will inevitably lead to the music of Buxtehude or Couperin, or what kind of political or aesthetical climate it was written in, even the technology used to make the instruments themselves… It blooms into something that goes far beyond the music itself, and that’s what I find makes it so wonderful and worthwhile. Also very important: keep doubting. Don’t just copy your teachers or role models, but keep revisiting the primary sources and forming your own ideas. Certainly where HIP is concerned, we must not forget that we are working with very good guesses, at best. It should keep us investigating and reinventing. John Cage put it beautifully: “consider everything an experiment.” Inertia in art is fatal.

You recently toured with the Australian Brandenburg Orchestra playing Paganini’s fourth violin concerto, a piece that many people have not heard played on gut strings before! Do you think perceptions of historical performance practice are changing to become more inclusive of nineteenth- and early twentieth-century music? What do you see as the future of historical performance practice?

The perceptions of 19th- and 20th-century performance practice has been a slightly slower one, and I think the reasons are both “cultural” and, alas, financial and logistical. Cultural, because for whatever reason the 19th century repertoire is still a touch too familiar, too “close” for many of us to completely revise and revamp, and dare to perform in a drastically different way. Quite paradoxically, there is more direct information available in regards 19th-century performance practice, but less willingness to experiment; the reverse, it appears to me, is true for earlier repertoire. Perhaps there’s a more comfortable time-distance when it comes to pre-Classical era music. The other issue, the financial and logistical one, is much more mundane: 19th-century repertoire often demands larger forces, larger pianos that are costly to transport, instruments that need to be specially built, and understandably many musicians or concert organisers are unable to invest so much. I do feel however in a very palpable way that attitudes, even within the past 5 years or so, have become much more open, and that we are daring to do challenge long-established ways of going about a Schubert or a Brahms. And keeping things in perspective: in 50 years, we too will have become a piece of history in historical performance practice, “in the first quarter of the 21st-century they used to do X, Y and Z…"

Making a Festival: Paul Stuart

How to run a festival, with Musica Viva Director of Sales and Marketing, Paul Stuart.

In the lead up to the Musica Viva Festival, what are your main responsibilities?

I lead a fantastic team of marketing professionals who deliver the marketing and promotional campaign for the festival. Each person has a part to play and I’m the captain at the head of the ship and I guess my main role is to set the destination, ensure we stay on course, and avoid the icebergs!

What was the process for producing the print and online marketing campaign we've seen about the festival? How far in advance did the artwork have to be made and ready?

The marketing campaign for the festival launched last August, at the same time as our International Concert Season (ICS) and Coffee Concerts series but the development of the creative campaign started in February. We use an external design agency who develops the creative in answer to a brief which is jointly prepared by the marketing and artistic teams. As the festival forms part of our Concerts activity, it’s important that the look-and-feel aligns with the ICS and Coffee Concerts creative as we’re in the market at the same time, speaking to many of the same customers.

What are the main priorities of the festival marketing?

Selling tickets really is the main priority as so much of the festival income is drawn from ticket sales and subscriptions. All marketing activity needs to have a pay-off, but that pay-off doesn’t always need to be direct. For instance, PR and media coverage is very important in building awareness of the festival which can have an impact on ticket sales but more broadly raises awareness of Musica Viva as an organisation. And whilst ticket revenue is important, we also need to sell the right tickets to the right people, which is why we offer heavily discounted student and Under30 tickets to encourage younger people to attend, which is important in terms of audience development. Increasingly for us, and many other performing arts organisations I’d say, developing a deeper engagement with our audience is becoming more of a priority so we also invest considerable resources into creating video content to give both current and new customers insights into the featured musicians, composers and repertoire.

How important is social media in getting your messages out to a broader public, and are your priorities different on online platforms compared to traditional media?

Social media is very important and the percentage of our marketing budget spent on paid social media is growing each year. We have quite active social media communities and the main platforms we use are Facebook, Twitter and Instagram, with Vimeo as our main video channel. For the festival, we use a mix of paid and organic methods in the lead-up and then during the festival we encourage our patrons, staff and artists to engage with us and each other across our social platforms which is a great way of generating buzz and excitement around the festival.

For young performers hoping to draw attention to their upcoming concerts, what advice do you have in regards to content creation and marketing?

Digital content is a great way to promote yourself and your work and it’s so cheap to produce with the advent of smartphone cameras and desktop editing software. It’s also very easy to disseminate through social media. Just make sure the content is original, tailored to the platform and short. As far as other marketing tips for a young concert promoter? Avoid traditional media and mass marketing and focus on building online and offline communities of fellow classical music fans.

Aside from your work on the festival, what does a normal day look like for you as the Director of Sales and Marketing?

I know everyone says this but each day really is different – apart from coffee which is my constant companion. The time of year also dictates where my focus will be. At the moment the big focus is the festival but also the upcoming concert tour of Angela Hewitt, as well as preparations for the launch of our 2018 concert and education seasons, both of which will launch later this year. I have quite a large team so a chunk of my time is spent in one-on-one or small group catch-ups and as part of the senior management team at Musica Viva, I also get involved in bigger organisational matters.

Making a Festival: Carl Vine

The Musica Viva Festival is almost upon us! What has your role been in the process of putting it together as the Artistic Director?

It is my job to choose all the artists and repertoire across the six main festival concerts, which sit at the heart of the four days. The process of picking the artists and the pieces they will be playing has been the result of two years of work - actually, possibly more, considering that we are already planning the 2019 festival! It’s absolutely terrific when it all comes together. I have used the same four pillars of chamber music programming that I use throughout all my Musica Viva concert programs - quality, diversity, challenge, and joy. I devised the strategy about fifteen years ago, with the idea that it would help me show chamber music as a pinnacle of human achievement. People were forgetting about the magic of chamber music, and that is what I wanted to capture.

Tell me about the work you do as Artistic Director outside of the Festival, and how that helps you plan for the four-day celebration of chamber music?

I work on the two main Musica Viva series’ - the International Concert Series and the Coffee Concerts, as well as the two festivals we run: the Huntington Estate Music Festival and the Musica Viva Festival. The distinction of having a touring ensemble like the ones in the International Concert Series is that you have a limited amount of time and repertoire choice, so over the four days I can be a little more experimental: putting together different soloists so to widen the pool of musical possibilities. This festival has a high concentration of musicians over a small period of time, featuring about 40 young artists and 25 established musicians including international performers, so an enormous range of repertoire becomes available. This is helpful because people that go to festivals want to be surprised on every level, so it’s important to make choices of repertoire as diverse as possible. Every work that you’ll hear this week has been chosen with the greatest amount of care.

What are the first steps in programming a festival?

You absolutely have to choose the marquee artists first, because that takes the longest. Every different kind of event you program for has a different timetable, and for festivals, artists usually have to be booked four years in advance - particularly if you’re getting players from overseas. We have some amazing local and international soloists and ensembles, and once I have an indication that the performers are in, I look at putting them together. The Elias Quartet and the Goldner Quartet will be working together, as will Amy Dickson and Elias, etc. It’s about creating experiences - and that is the most extraordinary thing I can do. Every concert has to be a voyage for the audience.

What have you learnt about programming through your work as a composer?

As a composer, I’ve had to consider what makes a good concert experience my entire life. When my pieces were programmed in concerts, they’d be put somewhere specific - perhaps last in the first half, or first in the second, and I’d think about the effect of that choice. The dynamics of concert presentation is really important when you’re curating a festival. It’s completely different programming for the touring International Concert Series because a pre-existing ensemble brings their own dynamic with them, and that’s what you see during the performance: them using that dynamic during the program. With this festival, I get to design the whole audience experience, from start to finish: in terms of the entire four days as well as the individual concerts. I generally approach programming in a similar way to how I approach composition - you need a beginning, a middle, and an end. It’s about storytelling and creating a journey for your audience. You want everyone to have a sense of having had a complete experience.

Do you have advice for young performers beginning to curate their own programs?

Of course, rules are meant to be broken, but generally, it is good to start with a smaller work and finish with a larger work, or going the other way - beginning with something grand then following it with something smaller immediately after. It’s about balance. You want a sense of contrast so you keep your audience surprised and engaged. It’s actually hard to make a program fall over, but I do generally like to start off with something reflective and finish it off with something energetic. You have to think about the emotional journey of your audience. That means the shape of each individual work as well as where it fits within the larger program. Ask yourself, what works either side of this work? What is the concert going to make your audience feel? Try and take a long distance view of your program, and consider how you’ll feel at the end of the concert.

Music Business 101: The Media

Seeing your name in the proverbial lights by Sascha Kelly.

Firstly, you are putting on a concert, so you are achieving more than most people.

I find a really straightforward way to start interacting with all media is to identify your motive first. Answer your own questions - why are you putting on this concert? Are you working with people that you admire? Is it the repertoire? Is it a world premiere? Have you arranged something from scratch? Is it something you’ve commissioned?

Whatever these answers are, this is the basis for your ‘elevator pitch’ when talking to media. This is your sales pitch. A common statement I hear is, ‘I’m no good at selling myself’. Well, you're not doing that. You need to sell the same reason you’ve committed to doing the concert.

So, where does this audience come from? Low hanging fruit first. Write a list of everyone who has ever asked you about your career. Your doctor, your barista, your elderly aunt, your friends at your local community radio station, your grandmother’s friends, your dog walker, your piano tuner. You spend your valuable time in the practise room, so you deserve to spend a fraction of your time asking people to listen to you. Write a personalised email to everyone in this list, or print out a handmade flyer with all the details of the concert. Give it to these individuals, and use the same format when approaching press (we’ll talk about it in a moment).

At the end of the day, we are all too comfortable fobbing each other off, but when was the last time someone said to you ‘I really want you to be there.’ I always think about it from the audience's’ perspective. They will be sacrificing at least two hours of their time (driving there, sitting through the concert, driving home... sometimes even getting a babysitter). The least you can do is invest five minutes individualising the ask. Invest in your audience, and you’ll always have one.

It’s the same (if not worse) for press - even community and volunteer positions! So how do you approach them? First, write a list of media outlets who might be interested in covering your concert. Think broadly, and don’t be afraid to stalk to steal ideas! (It’s what social media was invented for).

Here’s my list:

Community Radio: 3MBS Fine Music Melbourne, Triple R, PBS, SYN, Joy FM.

Online Magazines: Rehearsal Magazine, Limelight Magazine, I Care If You Listen, CutCommon.

Print Media (it still exists!): The Leader papers, Warcry Magazine (it’s national, but they could be interested), The Age (they have an arts section - and it needs copy!) The Herald Sun, Time Out.

Free arts noticeboards - they are surprisingly effective... and free.

So you’ve created your hit list. The next step is to go out and get em! As a prior colleague of mine used to say: spray and pray! If you get a 10% success rate of people picking up your story, you’ve done really well.

When contacting companies - pick up the phone. Most people email, and although the phone is an outdated piece of technology, it’s amazing how connected people feel to someone they’ve spoken to. If you pick up the phone, you’ll be ahead of the pack. (A handy hint - I still script my phone calls. They make me anxious, and it’s just what I have to do to get through them.) I always prioritise phone calls over emails, it’s just the way it goes.

Start seeing this as a long-term project, and start a spreadsheet. Keep track of who you’ve contacted. They might not say yes this time, but maybe next concert. As a presenter, I often keep track of people who’ve reached out for an interview, especially if we’ve had to knock them back. You are always curious if you’ve missed the ‘next big thing’.

So you’ve got an interview? Practise, practise, practise. Go back to those initial thoughts of why you’ve put on this concert, and write down the clear reasons for Why, What, Who, When, and How. Buy a friend coffee and ask them to ask you questions, and practise answering them clearly, and concisely. Don’t have any friends? Sorry. Watch Breakfast TV and try to answer the questions they ask the guests. Sadly, most interviewees aren’t Leigh Sales (though we try). Listen to the radio, or if you are especially clever, listen to previous episodes or articles written by your interviewer.

Then the rest is just good behaviour. Be on time. Radio is my performance, and I do get really nervous. A guest turning up late is my equivalent of a performer turning up after the piece starts (even though they only come in at bar 354). Yeah, it still works, but it’s not great and I’m in a bad mood.

Be prepared to be flexible. You might be fascinated by the relationship of the chord structures in bars 35 and 36, but my audience might be wondering why the cello has two holes that look like an f. Stay true to the mantra, there are no stupid questions! I try to think of an audience like that family member who asks me at Christmas how ‘the whole music thing is going’. Well meaning, and occasionally off the mark, but I need to be friendly so that Mum doesn’t give me side-eye over turkey. No matter how off your questions are, you always come off worse. Cara Delevingne got trapped with this. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XWQDGTTY6W8&t=185s

Oh, and someone asked me - how do you thank your interviewer? The honest answer is support the work they are doing. A social media share to your friends brings the program to new people and helps build our audience. Otherwise, I could count the number of genuine, ‘thanks for having me’ notes on one hand, so if you do that, you are also in good company.

In Conversation: Mary Jo Capps

With the continued talk surrounding changes to the ABC’s programming and recording services sparking controversy and speculation, we sat down with the CEO of Musica Viva Australia, Mary Jo Capps, to chat about what we can be doing to keep the radio station we love alive.

I’d like to get your current thoughts on the budget cuts and where the ABC is right now. ABC Classic FM is a hugely valuable resource for all people - young people, those in regional areas, people who cannot physically make it to a performance.

There are some really necessary changes in the pipeline, and I do believe that media shouldn’t stand still. The fact that the Classic FM model has worked well for the past 20 years doesn’t give it some inalienable right to continue as is for the next 20 years! It needs to change, but the danger with change is always throwing out the baby with the bathwater. So, you must look very carefully at who is responsible for managing the change, what the consultation process is, and who will be responsible for implementing it. If any of those elements are lacking empathy or lacking a full understanding and canvassing of all the views that may be out there, it will be a flawed outcome. That is our main concern at Musica Viva at the moment: we know how vital it is, especially for regional audiences - they shouldn’t be condemned because they don’t live next door to a major concert hall. There are also a lot of people who simply cannot get to a concert hall: maybe they can’t afford the tickets, maybe they can’t afford the time, maybe they’re not well enough to get out. These are people who also have a right to hear what’s going on.

Why is recording live music still relevant in the age of downloads and pre-prepared playlists?

Of course, you can easily just churn out music in a not particularly relevant, local way, and that is certainly a current trend. You can work on algorithms and play through a Spotify- or Pandora-style playlist, but it is not the same at all. The danger is in looking at a cost sheet and making a judgement call about the fact that it does cost a lot to record the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra doing a performance of a Brahms Symphony. The question then becomes do we really need it, or can we just go into the archives of thousands of recordings? Sophie Galaise made a wonderful comment in that regard and said “well, we can just play the Grand Final from four years ago!” It’s the same game and the same rules, so why not? That’s the sort of understanding required to say there is relevance in having a current interpretation by local performers who can be seen the next week - people can go to the hall, or read about them: they are real people. The danger right now, in change, is that it fails to consider all the important elements of being sufficiently inclusive and sufficiently aware of the impact of local content. We have to be vigilant.

As a student, it’s not always easy to see professional productions even when there are fantastic student deals available, and it’s vital for professional development to be listening to productions and performances, and broadening your own vocabulary around music making.

Absolutely, and it’s also more than just being able to hear the local voice, though that is really important. Radio in all its forms - whether it’s Triple J or Classic FM, any station - my overall concern is that people increasingly want to hear what they already know. It’s this risk aversion that I find worrying and perplexing. People discover new music - not as in contemporary music, but different music to their usual choices - through radio. Radio programs should surprise, and having been a radio producer at one stage of my career, I know how much thought you put into your music selection. You choose carefully what piece follows which, how things link, and where your program is going. It’s that idea of discovery which radio does in a way that downloaded algorithmically-driven music doesn’t – that’s so important, and we can’t lose that.

The curation of programs is so important! I have discovered lots of new-to-me favourites from listening to the radio. What about the recording that ABC Classics does - how important is that in the broader landscape?

It’s the way that young performers first get their go! Even if it’s not broadcast at prime time, it gives the young performer a calling card that they can take elsewhere - it’s been recorded professionally, in ideal circumstances, by people who care about what the sound is like. We’re already finding out how tough it is when you have sound recordists who are used to working with a rock band and don’t know how to approach recording classical music. You can’t record a pop group and a piano sonata in the same way. It’s important to have people with those skills, who have the opportunity to continue exercising their muscles. You must practice. And it’s really important that we’re continuing to make work for recording engineers to maintain their expertise - that’s critical.

There’s a huge flow on effect, isn’t there? You take away the drive home classical music program, and you’re not just taking a job from the presenter, but the whole team behind the program. It upsets the ecosystem!

The other part that I think is really important is that people listening need to stand up and say something. There is this perception that the only people actually listening to classical radio are over-70s, and that’s not true! Disrupt the perceptions. I keep saying to every taxi driver I meet who is playing Classic FM to write in and tell them that people are listening! Send them an email! It’s important that people running radio stations understand that people are using that platform in a number of different ways. There is a belief that people can be pigeonholed, and I think we should always resist. There have never been more people studying classical music, so it must have some attraction! And I would hope that it’s a two-way street - that the next generation coming through are talking about ways in which they would like classical music presented on the radio and in concert halls. It can’t just be “this is the way it is, and it will never change”. The more people speak up about what they’d like to hear, the more they’ll realise that lots of people are listening! We need to reflect the love of this music from listeners, whether they are seventeen or ninety-seven.

It goes to how we program our concerts as well. We’re excited by people who are disrupting the status quo: programming concerts in bars, and engaging popular music alongside classical music. We need to push back. Can you tell me about Musica Viva, and the effect this has on your operations?

A third of our work at Musica Viva is in regional areas, and we know how important that is to our audience members there. They don’t get surveyed, but we know how much they’re listening to Classic FM, compared to the inner city where you might have 55 stations to choose from. That sense of national connection with the regional members brings this issue very much home to us. We are particularly adamant that it remains for the time being on the FM network, rather than digital - which will immediately disenfranchise regional listeners, and keeping up local recordings. We have listeners who can no longer make it to performances, so prior to every concert we send them the program notes and tell them the date of the ABC broadcast, so they feel like they’re there, they feel a sense of connection with the performance and the audience. That has been so appreciated. They’re sitting at home imagining they’re in the concert hall with their friends. We know about the links between music, wellbeing, social connection and mental health, and this is a community of people that we want to keep well.

It’s so special that you have that kind of family feeling, as a nation-wide organisation!

I really think it’s crucial that those who can no longer, or cannot yet physically attend a performance, still have a right to engage with music and with community. That’s incredibly important to all of us at Musica Viva.

In Conversation: Caitlin Vincent

Aside from your work as a librettist, you are a professional opera singer. Can you tell me about how you became involved in the opera world, and how your passion for the written word has inspired your love for the genre?

I’ve been performing since a very early age, but I actually started out in dance rather than music. My mother was a professional dancer who started her own school when I was quite young, so I started studying classical ballet with her at the age of four. It wasn’t until I started performing musical theatre in middle school that I really added music to my life and started studying voice privately. Ironically, my first experience with opera was not a particularly good one: my parents took me to see a minimalist production of Carmen when I was nine, and I was definitely not impressed. Luckily, when I was 16, I had the opportunity to attend several rehearsals for a production of The Ring Cycle at Seattle Opera. It was an amazing experience to get a glimpse from behind-the-scenes, and from that point on, I was fully entranced by the world of opera. As an undergraduate at Harvard, I actually majored History & Literature but continued to study both voice and dance on the side. By the time I was in my fourth year, I had sung lead roles in six operas and directed my first production, all in addition to my regular studies. I think it was this combination of performance and literature that really prepared me for a career as an opera librettist, long before it even occurred to me to pursue that path.

When did you first fall in love with story-telling, and how did this translate into your current work as a librettist?

I can’t think of the specific moment when I first fell in love with story-telling, but I know I’ve been doing it in some way or another for as long as I remember, from writing stories as a small child to narrating whodunit mysteries during childhood bike rides. My father is a writer and was particularly influential on this end. . . he gave me my earliest (and perhaps most important!) training on how to craft a narrative and build believable characters. It wasn’t until I was twenty-four that I wrote my first theatrical work, and even then, it was more a matter of necessity than any sort of artistic impetus. I graduated with my master’s degree at a particularly bad time for opera in America – it was right in the middle of the economic recession, and dozens of opera companies had just declared bankruptcy or already closed, including the local opera company in Baltimore. Instead of waiting for the economy to rebound, I decided to start my own grassroots opera troupe with several of my friends from the Peabody Conservatory. My company, The Figaro Project, ultimately ran for five seasons and presented nine fundraising cabarets and seven mainstage productions, including several world premieres. But in its first season, The Figaro Project had a tiny budget, and we were really limited on where and how we could put on our first production. I decided to present The Marriage of Figaro, but I knew that we couldn’t manage a typical period production or even use super-titles. So, out of necessity, I decided to write a version of the opera designed for a concert setting, replacing sung recits with spoken English dialogue and adding a comedic subplot, in which the librettist, Lorenzo Da Ponte, suffers from writer’s block. After the success of this first attempt, I wrote another original adaptation, again designed for a non-traditional performance space: a comedic whodunit version of Don Giovanni titled ‘Who Killed Don Giovanni?’ featuring English dialogue and an obnoxious private investigator. The next year, I wrote the libretto for my first full-length opera, Camelot Requiem, to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the assassination of John F. Kennedy. In addition to producing the opera under the auspices of The Figaro Project, I also premiered the role of Jackie Kennedy. At first, my libretto writing was a means to an end, but it soon became a way for me to tell the stories that I wanted to see come to life on stage. From that point on, my work as a librettist really snowballed, and before I knew it, I was watching my operas premiered at the Kennedy Center.

What is your writing process, from deciding on a story to getting the words on paper? Is there a particular technique you engage with when writing operatic “dialogue” as opposed to prose?

I typically follow the same process for every piece, no matter the subject. The first step is always researching. Depending on the topic, this could mean a few hours reading articles on the internet or spending several weeks reading books about a specific historical figure. Once I’ve done enough early research, the next – and most important – step is writing out a detailed outline. The specific details of the outline might change over the course of the writing process, but I rely on this framework from the beginning, just to make sure I know where I’m going. My next step is to sketch out a full draft of the piece by hand. I have a particular pen and a particular kind of paper that I always use for this step, and I just sit down on a cushy chair and write, write, write. It’s one of those things where I emerge from a kind of haze several hours later and have somehow acquired dozens of pages of scrawled-out arias, duets, and trios. The next step is the editing stage, where I type up my handwritten sketch and start the long process of revision. I usually revise individual numbers first, finalizing and polishing the narrower emotional arcs of a single aria or duet. Then, I move on to the larger numbers and then the full scene and finally the full act, constantly revising the narrative arc and making sure the pacing feels right. After I’ve done enough revisions that I’m confident with the pacing of the piece, I usually do one or two final read-through/revision. This is the brutal ‘red-pen’ stage, when I cut out all superfluous language, answer any character questions, and so forth. Then, it’s off to both my father and my husband for quick reads and then I send the draft along to the composer for his or her thoughts. Depending on what they say, I might make some additional revisions, or we’ll shake hands, so to speak, on the finalized draft, and he or she will start setting the text.

In terms of writing operatic ‘dialogue’ versus prose, the primary difference for me comes down to simplicity and length of lines. When a sentence is going to be sung, you have to consider the kinds of timing delays that inevitably come with music. Unless you’re writing a patter aria à la Gilbert & Sullivan, you can pretty much guarantee that anything sung will be substantially slower than it would be if spoken. Plus, the composer might choose to take additional time with certain words, certain notes, or even decide to repeat an entire phrase. So, the longer and more complicated a sentence, the more likely it will have issues of clarity and audience comprehension. As Mark Campbell, one of my mentors and a truly brilliant librettist, once told me: “Never use thirty words when you can use five.” So, for every line I write, I try to find the simplest form, deleting superfluous words, revising and reordering. . . anything that I can do to simplify without losing the meaning that I want.

Do particular stories have more operatic potential? How do you gauge this?

Certain stories definitely have more operatic potential. This doesn’t necessarily mean that an opera has to have a major dramatic event. . . an opera can just be about a group of people sitting in a room and still be amazing. I think the key element comes down to emotional weight and the human element behind the story. If you think about the classic components of opera – internal monologues in aria form, unrealistically long death scenes, massive ensemble numbers where everyone is singing in asides – the emphasis is nearly always emotional, focused on how a character is reacting to an external (or internal) situation. So, let’s say you read about a very dramatic event, such as a hostage situation, and you decide that you want to write an opera about it. The situation isn’t enough for a good opera in itself: it’s simply the background scenario. It gives you the ‘how,’ but it doesn’t give you the ‘who,’ the ‘why,’ or the ‘why do we care.’ You need to add interesting characters with unique motivations (the ‘who’), establish a specific conflict to drive the events of the narrative (the ‘why’), and then find a way to relate your story to modern-day audiences (the ‘why do we care’). Once you have these in place, you have a story with operatic potential.

What effect does your work as a singer with knowledge of how an opera comes together have on your writing. Do you find yourself writing for your own voice, or voices you know?

When I’m writing a libretto, I don’t write for any particular singing voice or even think of specific music. Instead, I write for the personality and inflection of the character that I’m inventing. This can translate into the kind of vocabulary he or she would use, the length of his or her sentences, and the kinds of rhythmic inflections he or she would use, and even just overall style (for example, would an overly-romantic character use particularly florid language?). Beyond considering the personalities of my characters, I also take a lot of care with the rhythm and phrasing for each line to make sure that it will be easy for the composer to set. This often means that I’ll sprechstimme a particular line out loud, just to make sure the phrasing is what I want. If the rhythm or phrasing feels jagged or unnatural, then it won’t set well and definitely won’t be sung well.

Because of my background as a singer and director, I do have a good sense of stage logistics and what does and doesn’t work when it comes to staging a scene. I always include specific stage directions in my libretti, just so the composer and the stage director have a sense of what I was intending when I wrote the text. The stage director may end up deviating from these instructions when the piece goes on stage, but it’s important that he or she understands the original context. I also try to consider the practicality of the piece that I’m writing. Opera companies don’t have unlimited budgets, especially these days, and it’s important to design a libretto that can produced with a budget of $5,000 or a budget of $500,000. Obviously, there are certain stories that need a bit more money for sets and costumes, but as a librettist, it’s important to be cognizant of what you’re writing and how you’re writing it. You might want to write the libretto for an opera on Mars, but if it’s too impractical to be produced, then it doesn’t matter how good it is.

How do you deal with writer’s block? What methods do you have to overcome this, particularly around deadline days?

I don’t really experience writer’s block in the traditional sense, or at least, I don’t perceive it in that way. For me, if I get stuck with a certain text, then I attribute it to fatigue or insufficient research. Whatever the cause, the key is not to panic. If it’s an issue of fatigue, my strategy is to close my computer and go do something else, whether for an hour or for a few days . . . however long it takes for me to recharge. I find that when I take this break – and most importantly, give myself permission to take the break without feeling guilty – I’m able to resolve the issue the next time I sit down to write. More often than not, my mind is continuing to work even when I’m not writing and just needs time to find inspiration again. This is why I end up with bits and pieces of all of my operas written as notes on my iPhone…after a day or two on break, I’ll be waiting in the grocery line and suddenly a phrase will pop into my head and inspire a whole new aria.

If the block is more a matter of insufficient research and not knowing what to write, then there’s not much to do except go back and do the necessary studying. Especially when you’re writing a work about a historical event or a historical figure, you really can’t take shortcuts with the research. Otherwise, you’ll just end up returning to that first step anyway and wasting time when you could be writing.

In terms of deadlines, I try not to put myself in a situation where I’m struggling to make a deadline at the last minute. That kind of rushed writing isn’t the most enjoyable experience and also doesn’t necessarily produce very good work. As soon as I get any deadline from an external commissioner or composer, I create my own internal deadline (usually a week or so beforehand) and really try to hold myself to that date.

What advice do you have for young writers interested in learning how to write compelling dialogue?

Writing for song or opera is really a matter of experimentation, trying out different voices and different styles, all while trying to create a genuine ‘character.’ Art songs are a great avenue for this because they’re much more condensed than a full-length opera and provide an opportunity to write a relatively narrow dramatic arc. Another good exercise is to experiment with a certain scenario (for example, a woman at a job interview), and write several different versions of the scene, each time using a slightly different personality or background for the main character (for example, a woman who really wants the job versus a woman who doesn’t want the job; a woman who has been out of work for several years versus a woman who was just fired unfairly from another job, etc.). This really helps in terms of shaping different kinds of characters and exploring various quirks and nuances in any given personality. Once you start hearing the voice of your specific character, you can then tap into his or her motivations and flaws. Once you have created several well-rounded characters, each with their own reasons for reacting in certain ways, you just let them go and hear what they have to say.

If you could give your younger self some advice on the industry, what would you say? What do you wish you'd known at the start of your career?

The biggest issues that I’ve had in this career have been related to the practical concerns that result from the collaborative process, namely communication. Early on, I found myself in situations with the potential for conflict, either with my commissioner or my collaborator, but I didn’t address the issues early enough to resolve them. Part of this was due to a lack of confidence, but also to my uncertainty about my authority as librettist and whether the role of a librettist allowed me to say ‘no’ to the composer or commissioner. The answer to this, of course, is ‘yes.’ But it was difficult to get to the point of comfort with standing my ground, especially when I felt that a collaborator was in the process of damaging or undermining my work. One great resource that I wish I had employed earlier is a collaboration agreement, which clearly outlines the expectations and roles for all parties involved in a work. This ranges from issues of royalties and fees to copyright ownership to more creative concerns, such as whether a composer can revise the libretto without informing the librettist. This way, everything is clarified before the creative process even begins, and both the librettist and composer have recourse in case the collaboration starts going south.

In Conversation: Aura Go

Going back to the beginning, can you tell me about how you met Tomoe Kawabata and your initial experiences of playing four-hand repertoire together?

Tomoe and I met as students at the Australian National Academy of Music in 2007. I clearly remember my first impression of her - she was intensely preparing Tchaikovsky's first piano concerto for a European tour and even through the practice room doors I could tell she was a formidable pianist. We became close friends during our time at ANAM, constantly having discussions about many different aspects of music and playing. We loved trying to discover the essence of great performances, regularly giving each other feedback and experimenting with different approaches to playing. These discussions were incredibly beneficial for both of us and formed a strong basis of our duo today. We began playing four hand repertoire for fun at ANAM, but for some reason didn't get around to launching our duo properly until we were living on different continents!

What is your rehearsal process like for a concert like Resonances? How often do you practice together in the lead-up to the performance, and what shape do those rehearsals take?

Tomoe lives in Melbourne and I am currently living most of the year in Helsinki, so logistically it is impossible to rehearse as often or as much as we would like. But we also find our shorter, more intensive rehearsal periods immensely productive and rewarding and we meet as often as our schedules allow. For Resonances, we had originally given ourselves a three-week rehearsal period, but that became a bit shorter due to our newly-acquired (very old) second piano needing a complete overhaul by a technician before it was playable! The piano duo is one of the most challenging forms of chamber music. The immediacy of the piano's attack requires a high level of precision in order to play together, but that is just the tip of the iceberg. In fact, worrying about the precision of attack can easily lead to vertical playing and can restrict musical freedom, which is much worse than having unsynchronized chords! Paradoxically, this kind of boring, vertical playing for the sake of precision actually makes precision more difficult to achieve. The challenge (and also the fun part) is to achieve complete unification of musical ideas and to develop our listening to such an extent that the playing can be spontaneous and free without worrying about being "together". This is what we are striving for in our rehearsals.

Different repertoire and the specific problems we encounter in our playing call for different rehearsal techniques, so we have a very flexible approach to our work process. We like very detailed work, but as the concert approaches it is also very important to play through whole pieces and the whole program to get a sense of the larger shape of the concert. Recording our playing and listening back together is also an important part of our rehearsal process.

You return to the Melbourne Recital Centre in 2017 to perform three completely different programs with Tomoe, kicking off with some incredibly beautiful works from Japan. Can you tell me a bit about your three-concert series for the MRC, and in particular how you came up with these innovative and compelling programs?

We are really excited about the programs we've put together for our MRC series! We wanted to give audiences three completely different, distinct musical experiences through three programs that explore some of our favourite aspects of duo playing. The programs also reflect our broad musical tastes. We both love playing Mozart, so we decided to give ourselves and the audience a treat by ending the series with Mozart's joyous sonata for two pianos. We also love playing contemporary music and works that are seldom performed. Our first concert contains five first Australian performances of Japanese music that we find delightful, challenging and rewarding to play. Our second concert, "Through whirling clouds", is full of evocative sonic landscapes by well-known composers like Debussy and Ravel alongside wonderful pieces by Judith Weir, Germaine Tailleferre and Carlos Guastavino. Programming takes a lot of thoughtful planning and imagination and we find it a thoroughly enjoyable process. In programming for this year's series we discovered a wealth of other repertoire that we were not able to include, so we have a long list of pieces we would love to play in the future.

The music you have programmed for Resonances: Music from Japan is incredibly evocative and full of colour, some of which has been heard on your record, Five Rocks in a Japanese Garden. What was the recording process like for this particular CD, and what are the different challenges in recording music compared with live performance?

Recording Five Rocks was quite demanding! It can be stressful enough recording solo piano pieces, but recording with two pianos on a tight schedule in a studio environment poses many unique difficulties. And then there are the unexpected challenges. I remember the stress of recording the first movement of Ikebe's "A couple of butterflies". Both pianos play rapid repeated notes in unison in the highest octave on the piano. We realized after one take that one of the pianos was falling in pitch. So on top of the tight schedule, we had the pressure of needing to nail it quickly because of our rapidly mounting tuning bill! Having said that, we had a lot of fun putting that recording project together. It's great to have some distance from a project to really be able to appreciate it for what it is - it is a snapshot of how we played those pieces at that particular time. Coming back to the repertoire now, so many things have changed. Recording in a studio is a completely different experience and requires quite a different mindset from performing a live concert. When playing concerts, it's important to be in relationship with the space you are in - the ears must be finely attuned to listen and react instantaneously to the sound as it's being created in that specific acoustic. But in recording, this can be deceiving; what you hear in the space might not be what is being picked up by the microphone. And if one is sensitive to sound in space, recording in a studio with no feedback can change one's perception of timing and musical expression quite considerably. I don't mean to sound negative about studio recording as it can be highly rewarding. But for me, nothing beats the experience of live performance: hearing sound come to life in a shared space, in that moment, never to be repeated. There's magic in that.

For young pianists hoping to start performing four-hand repertoire, how do you recommend they get started? Do you have any recommended repertoire for duos starting out?

I would recommend grabbing a friend and jumping right in! It's a great way of getting to know repertoire, improving sight-reading skills and having fun. Once you start playing four-hand repertoire (as distinct from two-piano repertoire) it will quickly become evident that there's a lot more to it than you might initially think. Each of the four hands has a different role to play (and these roles can change constantly within one piece) and creating a natural and effective balance requires careful listening and practice. The pedaling in four-hand playing can also be a feat of coordination, as one person must pedal in a way that works for both players and their individual musical material. To start off with, I would recommend the Mozart four-hand sonatas, any of Moszkowski's four-hand pieces and some of the lovely French repertoire like Debussy's Petite Suite, Ravel's Mother Goose or Fauré's Dolly Suite. It can also be very good practice to read four-handed arrangements of symphonies. You could set aside some time every week with a friend to read through some four-hand repertoire and also get to know the symphonic repertoire and their composers more deeply through the four-hand arrangements.

Do you have any advice for young pianists starting their tertiary level journey at the moment? Is there anything you wish you’d known when you were beginning your performance career?

I could share two suggestions for young pianists starting tertiary studies. First, expand and develop your imagination! It is very easy to get trapped in a narrow, goal-oriented mindset when it comes to mastering the technical aspects of playing. But what really makes a powerful, moving performance is the richness of the performer's imagination, and the strength of the connection between the imagination and the physical body in order for sound to come vividly and spontaneously to life. Listen to great performances, go to concerts, soak up as much as you can. Observe how and why it can be possible for vastly different interpretations of a piece of music to be successful - what is it that makes them work? It's very important to realise that learning a piece of music, making a sound on your instrument, is a creative act! There is no right or wrong in music, but there are more or less successful or compelling performances. Start observing why this is, and keep your mind and ears open. Secondly, play chamber music! While you are at uni, find like-minded colleagues and form ensembles. I can't stress enough how important it is for pianists to play with string players, singers, wind and brass players; what you will learn is invaluable. Apart from that, you will get to play some glorious repertoire!

I have learnt so much from the (often messy, unpredictable, frustrating) process of learning all the things I think I know now, so I don't wish I could have known anything earlier. I believe that we all come to know things from our own experiences, in our own time. If I ever get to the point when I feel I know everything I need or want to know, it would mean there is no longer any point in being alive!

In Conversation: Aled Jones

Congratulations on your new album! It's such a special concept - combining the original tapes of you singing as a boy with your current voice.

It is a really unique way of me revisiting my past. I made 16 or 17 albums as a boy, and honestly, at the time I didn't go back and listen to them, so this was the first time where I really listened and appreciated the work that had gone into them I suppose, from all the people involved in the process. I actually felt really proud of what I'd done as a kid, so it seemed like the perfect opportunity to try and build something on top of it. But you don't know if it's going to work until you're in the studio, really. I knew what harmonies I wanted to sing over the original recordings, and I'd worked on the arrangements, but it really takes getting into the studio and hearing both voices - the old and the new - come together to know that it actually makes sense. It was a concept that might not have worked, but it was actually the easiest recording session I've ever had. Somehow everything just dropped into place, and it felt like the first time. 30 years had gone by, but I was still the same person, and all the emotion and phrasing was the same as when I was a kid.

Out of all those albums you'd recorded and songs you'd sung as a child, how were you able to pick the repertoire?

All of the songs I went with were those that meant a lot to me, and they were also the ones that I really genuinely wanted to sing as an adult as well. It's kind of like my life on one CD, and it pulls in all sorts of pieces. When we were going through all of those early albums there were tracks from England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales, so we tried to include as many as possible, but we did have to cut a few that didn't quite fit. The songs that made it through are really special to me.

How did those original records come about? When did you start singing?

Well, everyone in Wales sings! If you don't sing then you recite or you dance, but most people sing. I have found music in everything from a really early age though, and my parents will tell stories which make me sound like a complete weirdo! When I was 2 or 3 and getting my hair dried, I used to hum along to the noise the dryer was making. I would make up songs as the bath water ran too, while I listened to music programs on the BBC. As a kid, without really thinking about it, singing was just the same as breathing. When my voice changed, and I started school at the Royal Academy, I lost that feeling though, and I think it's only been in the last 10 years that I've felt it again - knowing that my voice was there and feeling comfortable with it. I've really enjoyed singing so much more in the last 5 years, maybe because of feeling a bit more secure. I think that comes with getting older. I absolutely went through that period at school when everyone would hang outside the door to your practice room listening and judging, and it doesn't feel good. Having been through all that though, I finally feel that now I'm happiest when I'm singing again.

I think everyone goes through that period while they're studying in some way or another. It's easy to lose your spark!

Absolutely, and when I was studying I was doing well academically - winning prizes and competitions - but when I was 21 or 22, while I knew how to sing a song my voice wasn't doing what my mind was telling it to do because it was just too young. That's why I left the Academy after three years to go to theatre school, because I knew I had to do something different. I studied straight theatre and musical theatre and got taken apart and rebuilt. I really loved that work ethic and the ethos of the place - you had to get out there and be real.

Working across so many different genres must have given you a lot of tricks for managing performances. Can you tell me about what your process is like before you go out onto stage?

I'm a typical singer, really. A little paranoid! I tend to warm up a bit before soundcheck, and usually sing the same song, a hymn that I know so well it's in my muscle memory. It's a piece that starts gently and builds up to a big moment, which naturally helps me go through all the motions. After the soundcheck, I tend to not sing much until maybe 20 minutes before going onstage. Then in those final moments, I'll sing something similar to the piece I'm opening the show with, so I know that the part of the voice I'm about to use is ready. I think that more than anything it's a mental thing. I'm always apprehensive before I step on stage, but I think that's adrenaline now! I also don't plan what I'm going to say between songs which is what keeps it fresh and exciting for me. I try not to be too precious about my voice now because it's not realistic to have a silent day in my work! I have had to do lots of radio and television on days of performances, and that can be hard when you're tired, but it's real life, and I believe in getting on with it.

It's so interesting that you don't plan anything you're going to say! I imagine your broadcasting career has helped you to develop that ability to talk on the fly?

So much! And also I quite like the idea that there’s an element of danger in it, which then people spark off. I have lots of fans in Britain who will come to every concert, so if I am reeling off the same stories all the time, it’s really boring for them. I really want people to come my concerts and be moved and have a great experience because of the music, but I also want them to laugh and have a good time! Life's too short to be glum.

When you're travelling, do you have a specific way of looking after your voice?

I try to rest as much as I possibly can! Sleep is a pretty good thing. You don't have control over everything though, and so I'm not precious about things. I do try not to go to noisy restaurants if I have to sing, though, because you just spend the whole time shouting. I also don't really drink alcohol unless I don't have a gig for days. I think more than anything though, it's about keeping your mind fresh and not being too bothered by things. Keep it light, in all aspects.

Keeping it light is such fantastic advice, across so many parts of not only this industry but life! What is your advice to people taking auditions, and perhaps not being successful in securing the part?

What’s meant for you won’t pass you by! I really do believe that if one door closes, you have to make sure another one opens. And that doesn’t mean going home and crying into your pillow, even though it can feel like that's all you can do. You move on. I’ve had loads of flops, and loads of albums that haven’t sold anything. And all you can do is go "oh well, there we go" and get on with it. It’s all about keeping it real, keeping it honest, and having that energy and that drive to keep going, keep going, keep going… Because eventually, it will happen. I’m a great believer in the fact that the effort you put in is repaid at the other end. So when people say ‘oh Aled Jones is a crap singer’ I say 'fine!', and I know that I’m not going to please everybody. It’s impossible to. But as long as I am being honest to myself and trying the hardest that I possibly can do, then sod the ones who don’t like it.

It can be a real challenge when you're studying to remember all of those things!

I think it can be really hard for musicians. When I was at the academy we had these practice rooms underground, and there’d be people in these little booths 12 hours a day, practicing and practicing and practicing. But I think the days of going into a conservatorium and just practicing your violin or your voice, your flute or your oboe, and nothing else, thankfully have gone, or at least are going. People are learning all sorts of other skills, and of course, the more strings you’ve got to your bow the more chance you have to succeed. And also the more chance you have to a healthy life. It's important to remember that you're more than just your instrument. Even if you're a singer! And actually, the more strings you have to your bow, the better your music is: it’s the equivalent of the more experience you have, or the more read you are and the more exposures you’ve had in life, the better actor you are. It’s the same as a musician, you know. You might have the greatest technique in the world, and you might have the greatest voice in the world, but if you haven’t got the the brain or the heart or the soul to go with it, then for me, it's not worth doing.

Our Rehearsal Room: Erin Helyard and Jane Davidson

Given that there are many extant musical works which tell of Christ's Passion, what inspired you to tell this story through a musical pastiche?

EH: The story of Christ’s crucifixion has inspired composers for centuries – these settings are responses by Pergolesi and Handel. This pastiched setting is very much in keeping with how Easter celebrations were conducted musically in the eighteenth century.

JD: At a personal level, I’d always been struck by the beauty of Pergolesi’s Stabat Mater and had thought that it would be fantastic to enact the powerful narrative of Mary’s grief and loss around the Passion of Christ as a movement and vocal project. I first had the opportunity to do that 15 years ago in the UK, at an anniversary event at Sheffield Cathedral. I then re-staged it for theatrical spaces and toured it with an opera company in Portugal. So, the Stabat Mater has had a number of previous imaginings. I also performed it in Winthrop Hall in Perth. But, the opportunity of returning it to a cathedral is just thrilling. The work belongs in the dramatic visual and acoustical space that constitutes a cathedral.

How did you select the works that make up Passion, Lament, Glory?

EH: The Pergolesi was one of the most performed works of the eighteenth century and had a profound influence on the musical development of countless musicians. We counterpoised Handel’s well-known choruses from Messiah with an early masterpiece from his days in Italy: an exquisite Salve Regina.

JD: The detail of this project is in the title: Passion of Christ, Lament of Mary, Glory of the Resurrection. In the Stabat Mater, the work’s soprano and alto roles are split between 12 talented female performers - a number that, of course, has a certain Biblical resonance. I had always conceived of these 12 women as a close community, like twelve female disciples, supporting Mary and her loss. Essentially, I am drawing out the powerful female narrative – even though that’s not something we immediately think about when we consider Christianity today. Erin and I picked Handel's Salve Regina together. It was a perfect choice, highlighting the powerful and central figure of women in all cultures. ‘Hail Mary, queen of mercy’ also reflects the powerful historical significance of Mary as an icon in Early Modern European Christianity. Handel’s Messiah is probably the most iconic piece of Baroque music. To deal with the Passion of Christ, I’ve taken three choruses to explore the mass emotions of the group and the power of collective emotional experience. The way I have staged this will hopefully have a powerful impact on the audience. It attempts to lessen the distance between emotions spectated, emotions performed and emotions experienced.

Can you tell us about the Centre of Excellence for the History of Emotions? How does Passion, Lament, Glory contribute to growing knowledge of emotional behaviours throughout history and the ways in which they change over time?

JD: The History of Emotions is a fascinating field. Looking at the thoughts and feelings that underpinned historical actions really gives a far greater insight into how the people of the past did what they did. Clearly, humans have lived and thought in different ways over time. We do have some ideas about what meanings Baroque musicians ascribed to their works, and attempting to carry some of this meaning to modern day audiences has been the driving impetus of the Early Music Movement. What I am trying to do in this performance is take the historical goal of moving the affections of the audience using the powerful music, but also ask the performers to centralise their emotional intention through clear and strong felt and physical gestures. This performance is juxtaposed with the Centre of the History of Emotions' collaboration with the NGV in a new exhibition entitled ’Love: The Art of Emotions 1400-1800'. In that, you will see this type of potent Early Modern European emotion as depicted in all kinds of images: religious love, motherly love etc. Our project works with this knowledge and multi-faceted representations of love as an emotional state, which of course involves grief as well as joy.

Passion, Lament, Glory features aerial artistry to complement musical storytelling. In your opinion, what impact does combining artistic disciplines have on audience engagement, as well as the experience of a work for both performer and audience?

JD: It is interesting that the past couple of years has seen many enactments of Baroque religious music in theatrical spaces. The Baroque oratorio tradition has been to perform the works unstaged in churches, but the works themselves have such theatrical content. For me, adding staging has the potential to clarify the narrative. I wanted to follow a couple of specific historical lines, firstly, the fact that I initially conceived of the work in the county of Yorkshire which has hosted Medieval Mystery Plays since the 1300s, with York Minster being a key performance site. So, there is a very long tradition of acting in religious sites in Europe. Secondly, and specifically in relation to the aerialist, there was a custom in sixteenth-century Germany where, on the feast of the Ascension, an image of Christ accompanied by angels and the Holy Spirit was drawn up through the tower. So, the aerial spectacle is based on historical precedents.

This piece will be performed by the entire vocal faculty of the Melbourne Conservatorium of Music. Can you tell me about the joys and challenges of working with such a large cohort?

EH: The vocal department at the MCM is one of the best in the country, with some of the best students I’ve ever worked with. They are diligent, professional, and hard-working. One of the hardest aspects has been timetabling these large rehearsals, but it pays off in the end.

JD: No challenges, just joys of discovery and development. Though the past week has been pretty exhausting!

In Conversation: Antoinette Halloran

You are no stranger to this fiery title role - tell me about your relationship with performing Tosca, and how the character has grown with you since you first performed her.

I have to say, the way Puccini heroines are written is so complex and divine. Every time I come back to them it feels like it is the first time I have met them. Technically it is wonderful to revisit them as part of the terrain has been traversed, but I fall in love with these women anew when I meet them again. For different reasons! This Tosca here in Perth is a woman I haven’t met before. I think she is closer to the woman Puccini would have envisaged (I hope she is!) She is more real and quixotic and loveable than I have played her before.

What is your rehearsal process for preparing a role like this one compared to a role that is brand new to you? What are your priorities when looking at a score that you’ve sung before?

Well, it is important not to etch yourself a groove with the last performance of a role but to allow the new challenge to take on new improvements in technique. And also allow yourself to be open to new ideas from each director and conductor. How dull to just do it the way you did it previously! This production has Stuart Maunder as director and Brad Cohen as conductor, so I would have to have rocks in my head not to want to explore all the artistic ideas they have to offer.

If I have sung the score before, I will know which sections need more time to prepare and what to take to my teacher for help. I would only want to move forward with a role. The moment I feel that I haven’t improved on the last performance I know that will be the time to step away from the artform.

You are well-known to Australian audiences as an accomplished performer of both operatic and musical theatre roles. How do you balance the two, and are there ways you look after your voice when performing one or the other? Do you approach them differently technically?

I have to say, it depends on the role, not the genre. For example, when I sang Johanna in Sweeney Todd for OA I had to be a saint and keep my cords pristine and fine-edged to sing Green Finch and Linnet Bird with the finesse of a soubrette. Yet when I sang Mrs Lovett for VO and NZO, I was possibly the last girl on the dance floor at the bar that didn’t even have a dance floor! Mrs Lovett allowed me to be husky and seedy: it may be the same musical, but the role determined the discipline. That is not to say it didn’t involve discipline to sing Lovett – just a different, less precious kind. I am a huge believer in technique. A good vocal technique can turn a performer into a chameleon and crossing genres is no big deal, really.

How do you look after your body and your voice when you’re travelling so often for work? Do you have some tried and tested methods for keeping well before an interstate or international performance?

I am a yogi. I will seek out a yoga studio and maintain my discipline, which has helped me enormously in this rather erratic and unfair game that is the arts in Australia. It has kept my mind freer of the B.S that can accompany what we do. It has allowed me to feel good about myself in a subjective world. I love what I do, but we all need to have perspective and distance. Yoga gives me this. Namaste!

As a young singer, moving into the professional world can seem daunting - can you tell us about how you approached this transition, and how you dealt with the pressures that come with being a young person in a daunting industry?

It’s that old chestnut I am afraid…. if you can think of something else you would rather do – then do it. If you have something to fall back on, you will fall back. Those of us that persevere are usually the ones with the inability to want to do anything else with our lives. The fire of performing drives us on. I waitressed and pulled beers and wallpapered my bedroom with my rejection letters at the same time. But I took what tidbits came along and persevered. It’s hard. I am glad I stuck with it.

What do you wish you’d known when you were starting out about life as an opera singer?

That it would rule my life! My first singing teacher told me that art was a very jealous mistress, and she has turned out to be so. Art stripped me of my marriage and has taken me away from my loved ones. At the moment, art is making me jump four meters from a parapet above the stage onto a small foam pit. Art makes me constantly feel inadequate and small, and art is irrational and quixotic. Not unlike Tosca! But I love her and I have pledged allegiance to her. And I adore everyone else I meet who has done the same. I would have it no other way. As Tosca says – I lived for art.

In Conversation: Tim Stitz

Between 8 and 9 has stemmed out of a major international collaboration - can you tell me about how your relationship with Sichuan began?

It actually started way back in 2014. I’d been talking to my colleagues about our desire to do an artist-to-artist exchange in Asia for a number of reasons, but particularly because of the importance for Australia to be looking to our neighbours to have an authentic dialogue. At Chamber Made Opera, we had previously done artist-to-artist exchanges or collaborations before, so it didn’t seem impossible! We began to speak with Wang Zheng-Ting, who is a master of the Sheng - an instrument like a mouth organ, it’s absolutely amazing. Once we’d started our conversation, we received some travel money from the Playking Foundation at Arts Centre Melbourne, whose remit is to look to Asia to develop partnerships and projects. We went for the first time in July of 2015 to begin our collaboration, and selected the four artists (two vocalists and two instrumentalists) that we’re working with now! It was incredibly interesting to experience the Conservatorium in Sichuan, as it is really one of the centres of world musics: teaching both Western and Traditional musics. This project has really emanated out of the Conservatorium and the dialogue we’ve had with them over the past two years. The Sichuan Conservatory is actually the Sister University to the Melbourne Conservatorium, and both institutions have offered a lot of good faith and support to us and this project.

What has it been like - logistically and artistically - working across countries and languages?

I think we always wish we had more time! It takes a lot of money getting the eight people involved into a room, after paying everyone their fee and putting up the travel costs for half of the artists! Of course, it’s not as expensive as it would be to work with artists from the UK or Europe, but it is really important to us that everyone gets paid properly so it takes some serious resources. What we ended up doing was going for a two week trip to share musical and artistic ideas. We were working with four languages really - Sichuanese, English, Mandarin and music. Doing an international collaboration where there is a language barrier means the music becomes the common language in the rehearsal room. We also began to use the language of improvisation. The conservatorium model - not just in Asia but all over the world - prioritises accuracy: you’re good if you get every note right. What we tried to do was break down some of that, and allow all of the musicians to make mistakes and try new things. It takes quite a lot of time to translate and understand concepts in real time, but it means all of the artists are really part of the process. Last year, we managed to scaffold some time together again thanks to the support of the Victorian government, which we really used to create this new work, Between 8 and 9. We’ve built this project to be part of a wider artistic exchange, so in the future, it may be seen in many different iterations.

This particular project, Between 8 and 9, brings together culture, sculpture, electronics and voice. Can you tell me about the experience you’ve built for audience members?

Between 8 and 9 has been inspired by the process of meeting four artists from Australia and four artists from China, in a really physical way. Initially, the meetings were around a table in Sichuan - a place that is known for their tea houses, just like Melbourne is known for its cafes. The process of meeting around a table may seem superficial initially, but it’s actually more about sharing where you come from, what you think about, and what it’s like to live where you live. These meetings around different tables really informed the genesis of this work. When audience members come into the space, they’ll be seated at a table with one of the performers. It’s extremely intimate, and a really special experience. This piece sits at the intersection of theatre, design, and performance, which is something that Chamber Made Opera is really passionate about. We’re really interested in where the voice fits into these sorts of works, because for us, opera means work where multiple art forms come together - which may not be the traditional definition of “opera”, but makes complete sense if you break down how an opera is built. We invite audiences to be present, and participate, in a way. It’s not necessarily active participation, but we do actively try and build a relationship between our audience and performers. It has to be engaging.

Your role as CEO and Creative Director of Chamber Made Opera is really multi-faceted. Can you tell me about how you came into this position?

To be honest I never really planned this! If you specifically want to be a performer or an arts manager, you might have a bit of a path planned out, but this has happened quite organically for me. I studied music at high school, and I really wanted to be an actor, so while I did lots of university theatre, I did the “right thing” and got a commerce degree. I didn’t love it, but in hindsight, it’s been incredibly helpful, especially in running a company. I loved being involved in student theatre, and I’m so glad that I had experiences in making my own work and being part of Australian writing. I was ready for a new challenge, so when I thought “okay, I’ll give this a shot” and tried Chamber Made Opera, I was really lucky to get to work with the previous Chamber Made Opera Artistic Director, David Young. He is such a great artist and producer, and working with him felt like a tutelage and I learnt so much. Working as a producer is amazing, because it’s an opportunity to help artists realise their ideas, and I’m definitely still very much involved in the creative process. I love being in the rehearsal room and am in it perhaps more than other producers. When thinking about your own career, I think it’s great to have an idea of where you want to end up, but I’d definitely recommend being open to the idea that it might play out differently and you’ll get just as much out of it.

Do you have advice for artists looking to have their own work produced?

You have to be good at lots of things, and I think it is really important that all artists - whether you’re a solo musician or a producer - should be able to manage application writing, finance, marketing, etc. A select few artists will have management, but being an independent artist means you need to know how to do everything for your business. When artists approach me about their work at Chamber Made Opera, I want them to have done their homework, and hopefully to have seen what we’re all about. I get so much mail from people who think we’re a traditional company, and it’s just not a good use of your time as an artist! So once the artist knows that we’re the right fit for them, I’m looking for people who are really passionate about their content. It’s also really okay not to have all the answers because that’s what we’re here to help with. Of course, it’s important to be able to sell your project, but it’s also about being able to engage in a discussion and work with artists in a collaborative way. We work with lots of emerging artists, from jobbing musicians to arts managers, and we always get them to help out a bit with admin - grant writing, processes, database work - because even if it’s boring sometimes, it’s so important to your personal artistic development. We’re a small team too, and we get so much done because we're each doing the jobs of six people! Be okay to help out with all the moving parts, from the bump-in to the strategic plan.

In Conversation: Corrina Bonshek

Your work Song to the Earth will be premiered by DeepBlue and Michael Askill at the upcoming Bleach* Festival on the Gold Coast, which will be performed by many local young high-school-aged musicians. How important is it to involve young people in new music?

I made a conscious decision to work with this age group because these kids are the next generation of performers coming up in this area, and I’d like to see a lot more interest in new art music on the Gold Coast. When the kids perform, the parents come along as the audience. So, by involving the young performers, I’m indirectly building a broader community and capacity for new art music in this area. I hope that there could be a thriving new music scene here in the future.

This is actually the first time I’ve worked with high-school-aged musicians. Fortunately, my music collaborators DeepBlue and Michael Askill are very experienced. Under Michael Askill’s guidance, we have the two young percussionists improvising variations on a set of stylised bird-call transcriptions from local birds in the Gold Coast and Northern NSW areas. DeepBlue have the young string players improvising cicada sounds in addition to playing the scored music.

For many of these young performers, the idea that you can compose in relation to the sounds in your backyard is pretty new. I hope it inspires them to stay involved with new music.

This piece explicitly invites audience interaction, by allowing the audience to walk amongst the musicians during the performance. Tell us about the genesis of this composition - what was your inspiration?

I’ve been obsessed with the image of birds flocking for a number of years, and yearning to write a piece for a large ensemble that explored this pattern in sound.

Then last year, I saw John Luther Adams’ Sila: Breath of the World performed as part of Brisbane Festival. Adams has written several works that are site-determined; the musicians are arranged in space according to the performance site and the audience gets to wander amongst them.

I had one of those lightbulb moments where a whole bunch of ideas came together: flocking, the spatial arrangement of musicians, outdoor performance on the Gold Coast, and cicada sounds in a chorus of string ensemble tremolos. These ideas eventually resolved themselves into Song to the Earth, which has 39 musicians arranged in a kind of mandala-like arrangement. The musicians pass notes around the space in a kind of spiralling, swirling chorus.

What's the appeal of premiering this work at Bleach* Festival in particular?

Bleach* Festival is the biggest multi-arts festival on the Gold Coast. The whole city comes out to experience arts and culture, often in outdoor locations. The audiences at this festival are curious and open to new experiences, so this is a great way to expose contemporary classical music to a new audience.

For Song to the Earth, I’m fortunate to be partnering with director Meredith Elton who is premiering this piece as part of her community-engaged, multi-art form show called Inherit the Wind.

There is a phenomenal community spirit amongst artists on the Gold Coast. I’m really enjoying composing for this show and being part of a larger creative team that includes dancer/choreographers, installation artists, sound designers/electroacoustic composers, and lighting designers.

You graduated from Western Sydney University with a PhD in Contemporary Arts in 2007. How has your formal institutional training helped (or hindered!) your compositional process and thoughts?

For me, doing a PhD was like doing an apprenticeship with a master craftsperson. I needed that one-on-one training to get proficient with my tools. I had a very supportive composition supervisor in Dr Bruce Crossman, who encouraged me to develop techniques that really connected with my musical voice.

That said, I had difficulties too. I split my PhD submission equally between a musicological thesis and composition portfolio. I spent the last two years of my PhD finishing my thesis with no composing at all. At the end of it, I had massive composition block. It was like I had forgotten how to compose. It actually took me around two years post-PhD to really get back into writing music, and re-find my compositional voice.

One thing that helped was having mentoring from Dr Chinary Ung. He gave me heaps of quirky, reassuring advice and some new skills for planning large-scale works. One that still makes me laugh is his comment that ‘80% is good enough’, and ‘feeling like a failure is a part of composing’. His irreverent teaching style helped me loosen up, become less of a perfectionist, and take more risks in my music-making.

Song to the Earth, and its upcoming performance, have been funded by the Generate Program: an initiative of the City of Gold Coast through the Regional Arts Development Fund (RADF). You've also previously received many other grants and awards including the Australia Council for the Arts - Skills Grant and the Parramatta City Council Heritage Grant. What was the process of securing that funding like? How important is external funding to the arts? Do you have any tips for readers who may be applying for funding?

The big upside to spending years upskilling in musicology was that I learnt how to craft a persuasive argument for grant applications. I also got comfortable with that whole writing/rewriting thing that you have to do when you are zeroing in on what you truly want to say.

My tips for applying for funding are to give yourself plenty of time to write and rewrite, get feedback from supportive friends (they don’t have to be musicians), and to go for grant programs that you have a genuine connection/fit with.

It takes a lot of effort to write an application. But the act of writing one, for a project that you are passionate about, can be galvanising. I recently applied (and was unsuccessful) for a New Work Australian Council for the Arts Grant. But writing the application prompted me to talk with an ensemble that I might not have approached otherwise. This, in turn, led to a commission and festival performance (irrespective of not getting the grant). So it was a worthwhile process even without being awarded funds.

Plus it's important to remember that there are other ways to fund your big dreams like crowd-sourcing and even sponsors. Take the route that is best suited to your skills and abilities.

You're a composer and event producer, you've previously tutored and lectured at university level, worked in online marketing, and co-founded Australian natural health business Better Earthing. How do you manage your work-life balance? How important is it for twenty-first-century musicians to be able to "wear multiple hats"?

I’ve always worn multiple hats, and when I look around at my fellow composers they are all doing this too – either by teaching, performing, or having a day job in another industry like myself.

Frankly, it’s very difficult in Australia to earn a living from art music composing.

Once I accepted that, I decided that my other job needed to be one that was enjoyable, paid me well enough so that I could work part-time hours, and left me in a good headspace for composing. For me, that job was online marketing.

Since starting Better Earthing (with my husband), I’ve done so much more composing. I put it down to having flexible work hours, being my own boss, sourcing great help, and having the ability to juggle workload according to the demands of the moment.

But I don’t have work-life balance at the moment. My life is basically music-work and marketing-work with some sleep, meditation and nice meals thrown in. Interestingly, my composing colleagues seem to be doing this kind of crazy work-life juggle (or the work-work juggle). Personally, I can’t sustain this long-term. So I’m dreaming of a four-hour marketing work-week, with plenty of time left for music projects, friends, and relaxation!

Finally, is there any advice you wish you'd heard when you first started out as a professional musician?

Yes, there’s so much! But one key learning point for me has been to put myself in surroundings that support my music-making. For me as a composer, that’s composing in the morning (ideally before I check emails), in a quiet, distraction-free room with a nature view. I also like to spend time in rainforests, ideally with really big trees, as this frees up my mind. When I relax in this kind of environment, good music ideas pop into my head. My advice is to pay attention to the circumstances in which you do your best work and then create or find a space with these qualities to do your most important thinking in. That could be composing or working out how to pitch an idea to an ensemble, festival, or funding body.

Musical Partners: Andrea Katz and Nick Dinopoulos

Rehearsal Magazine: Hi Nick and Andrea! How are you both going? I’m really excited to start this conversation, and look forward to sharing your story with the Rehearsal Magazine readers! To get started, how did you meet?

Andrea Katz: It was my first day as Acting Head of Voice at Monish University. Merlyn Quaife had invited me to replace her while on long service leave, and on that first day I heard a knock on the door and this cheeky 18 year old comes in and tells me how to manage my schedule! The situation hasn’t changed much since…

Nick Dinopoulos: I wish I could deny the audacity of these claims, but it’s all true! They were some pretty fantastic initial coachings though which laid some very important groundwork.

RM: How soon after those initial coachings did you both realise you'd found a good musical partner?

ND: Ah, that is interesting. Andrea and I didn't really start working together as colleagues until several years later. I'd taken some of her classes at Uni, and always asked her to play for my practical exams, but the relationship was still very much one of teacher and student. It was probably not until we got to The Opera Studio, no?

AK: Yes, by then I had started dreaming about Songmakers and 'collecting' singers. First to say yes was Merlyn Quaife, of course. Then Sally-Anne Russell joined after our Resonate recital in Sydney. I'd been nurturing Nick and checking his progress and by 2011, I thought he was ready. It was a big ask for someone so young but an important part of creating the group was to 'pass the torch’, so to speak.

RM: How did you feel in those first few rehearsals for the newly formed Songmakers, Nick?

ND: Petrified. I was 22 years old, just out of Uni, and rubbing shoulders with some serious industry heavy-hitters. I remember almost barely being able to sing! Luckily I knew the repertoire really well, but it was a little while before I began to really trust myself in rehearsals.

AK: It was a very steep learning curve for Nick, but he always rose to the challenge. It was fascinating to watch him interact with the other singers, avidly drink up the experiences and grow in bouncing leaps right in front of us.

RM: What are some of the things you have learnt from being in Songmakers, particularly aside from technical music learnings?

AK: As Artistic Director, I've had to learn all sorts of skills: programming, planning rehearsals, securing gigs, dealing with last minute illnesses and cancellations...but the biggest learning curve for me has been (and still is) letting go and trusting the fabulous artists I have as colleagues. Humanly and musically they always deliver and I can absolutely trust the outcome will be outstanding.

RM: What about you Nick? I imagine Songmakers was quite pivotal for you as a professional musician - what skills has it helped develop that you now rely on in your everyday life as a singer?

ND: Apart from always having new and interesting music to learn (and needing to schedule practice to be able to keep up with it all!), being a Songmaker has brought me closer to the audience and closer to the composer. It has also deepened my commitment to the art of recital singing itself, and it is continually inspiring to be part of a group of industry leaders in this field. But perhaps most significantly, I simply would not have had a career without Andrea's support. The life of an artist is by no means easy, and she has encouraged and challenged me every step of the way.

RM: Absolutely! Nick could you tell me about how your career has diversified since learning with Andrea originally? You are not only a performer, you are a teacher and an artistic director! How do you manage and balance those different parts of your career?

ND: I've taught since the very beginning, actually. Conducting and programming came a little later, but I started working at the Australian Boys Choir back in 2007, and was invited onto the staff at Monash University in 2014. I've also taught privately, been a chorus master for many different projects, worked in a number of schools, and have been the resident vocal consultant to the National Youth Choir of Australia (and also on the Board) for the past three seasons. In terms of keeping up with it all, the answer is very careful scheduling! Prioritising the most important tasks for the week and keeping a pretty comprehensive to-do list is pretty much the only way I cope, but I absolutely love the variety. There are equally as many gratifying aspects to rehearsing as there are to performing as there are in teaching, and they all inform each other.

RM: Andrea, you are also balancing being both a performer and a teacher. Can you tell me about how you got into teaching initially, and how you manage the two aspects of your career now?

AK: I started as a tutor as part of my scholarship with the Rubin Academy in Jerusalem. Very soon after that began, I was engaged by the New Israeli Opera. Coaching is very much a form of teaching but also encourages you to learn a lot of other elements that are essential when working with students: lots of patience (I can hear you laughing Nick!), 175 different ways of explaining something, how to influence without talking, the list is endless! After so many years of experience the time required to achieve something has distilled itself to a minimum and now I find myself looking for more engagement to keep myself motivated!

RM: Being able to explain things in lots of ways is so important! When you work with young singers, what are the first things you talk about? What are the things you teach that are absolutely necessary for developing artists to know?

AK: To listen to the composer. I can still hear my teacher Alex Tamir in Israel saying to me: 'don't help him, he knows best!’ Everything you need as a musician comes from the score. It is like a code, you have to decipher it and that will fill your development years with hours and hours of research analysis, guessing, pondering...It's wonderful!

RM: Tell me about your preparation - when you're performing a new piece of music, what is your process? Especially those things OTHER than note learning!

AK: I first read the piece and get my own feel for it. Parallel to technical work (repetition, slow practice et al) I like doing research about the composer, historical period and the piece itself, if possible. If working on a newly composed work it is really good if I can have a session with the composer in person or via email. A lot more is discovered during rehearsals of course.

RM: Absolutely. Nick do you have a similar approach?

ND: I certainly do - Katzy's taught me well, after all! But in addition to what Andrea has mentioned, a word of warning: listening to recordings can be wonderful, giving you a lot of information and speeding up the learning process, but it can also be dangerous! I think it's much better to start from scratch each time, developing your own sense of the piece and what you want to say. You have to trust your artistry of course, and while there are often conventions attached to canonical works, at least that way you can offer your audience something refreshingly different.

RM: Across the country, a whole new class of young singers and repetiteurs are starting their tertiary level education. What do you wish you'd known about your careers when you were both starting out? Do you have any words of advice you wish to share?

AK: I didn't get a lot of sound advice about careers and how to manage them when I was a student. I had to go on the quest all by myself and started over 3 times before landing in Australia. I'm still learning and reckon I will keep learning till the end! I don't regret doing it this way, but I do wish somebody had taken me by the hand at least some of the time. My advice to young people is, besides practicing, to go and talk to different people in the industry and look for all the answers you need. Don't be shy!

ND: I never knew that, Andrea! I guess there's no substitute for experience, but it makes sense that you've passed so much of that on-the-job experience on to me and so many other singers. In terms of career advice, the thing about being an artist is that you absolutely have to love it. All of it. The ups and downs. The funny ins-and-outs. Essentially, don't do it unless you have to! The only other thing I want to say applies slightly more generally: never devalue the power of listening. No matter who we are, we can all strive to talk less and process more. When presented with new stimuli or a new piece of information, it's in our interest to go away and really try to get inside that person's head and understand where they might be coming from. Sometimes what others have to say can be confronting, but if we take it away and process it calmly (even if we don't agree with it), we can deepen our knowledge and broaden our experience.

In Conversation: Daniel Hope

Can you tell us a bit about your experience of working with Max Richter on Vivaldi Recomposed?

In Spring 2012, I received an enigmatic call from Max Richter. He said he wanted to “recompose” the Four Seasons for me. I asked him what was wrong with the original. "Nothing", he said, "it’s perfect". And he explained that his problem was not with the music, but how we have treated it. In his opinion, the piece had become part of our turgid musical landscape. We are subjected to it in supermarkets, elevators or when a caller puts you on hold. He told me that Vivaldi’s music is made of regular patterns, and that connects with post-minimalism: one strand of the music he composes. It was time for a new way of hearing it, and that it felt like a natural link. I must confess that I could never get enough of the original, but playing and living with Max’s version made me equally keen to revisit the original masterpiece.

You've mentioned your memories of experiencing Vivaldi as a toddler. How has your relationship with the composer developed and changed over time?

I would say I am still completely fascinated by Vivaldi. Over the years I have been lucky enough to work with historically informed performers, such as Kristian Bezuidenhout and Christopher Hogwood. They both taught me a great deal about the continuo possibilities in Vivaldi, but the biggest change came when I was appointed Music Director of the Zurich Chamber Orchestra. I found myself in front of this wonderful orchestra playing the piece I’d first heard them perform four decades ago. And then I realised how these musicians were so energetic and enthusiastic in the way in which they expressed their understanding of Vivaldi. I felt our performances of The Four Seasons were a revelation in terms of the colours we produced, the tempi we took and the details that emerged. After performing the concertos for the third time together, we decided we’d be mad not to record them. Yes, there may be a thousand recordings of The Four Seasons – and legendary recordings among them. But I realised I felt finally ready to add our interpretation to them. It was either now or never!

For Seasons consists of music spanning a tremendous period of time. What was the process of selecting music for the album, and how did you find compatibilities with works that are seemingly worlds apart?

I tried to create a mosaic in music and images of what the seasons mean to me, as well as pieces that match my feelings for the months of the year. There’s a modern message here, which is about the cohesive expression of time and life cycles. Those familiar cycles are being broken left, right and centre at present throughout our world. This is my way of marking time: my time and our times.

There are works directly associated with the calendar, including arrangements of Aphex Twin’s Avril 14th, “June” from Tchaikovsky’s The Seasons and Kurt Weill’s September Song, while others convey the atmosphere of a given month. Other connections are more subtle. The Roman month Februarius was named after the Latin term februum, which means purification. I have long been fascinated by Rameau, not just as a composer but as a historical figure. In 1735 he composed Les Indes galantes, based on the 1725 meeting between native American Indian chiefs and King Louis XV of France, the aim of which was to have them pledge allegiance to the crown. I find Rameau’s “Danses des Sauvages” far ahead of its time and yet its poignant message is singularly current. There’s a reason behind every track.

How has your relationship with Yehudi Menuhin contributed to the way you work and perform today? How important is having a mentor for young musicians?

Yehudi Menuhin is the reason I became a violinist. As he used to say, I fell into his lap as a baby of two. We were closely connected until his death, and there is hardly a passage in all of the great works for violin where I don’t stop for a minute and think of Menuhin. Supporting young musicians is vitally important. It’s our responsibility to pass on what we learn to others.

When you play so many concerts in a year, how do you continue to find inspiration and keep an element of spontaneity (for you and the audience) in performance?

Playing the greatest music in the world with some of the greatest musicians and partners. Doesn’t get any better.

Finally, many of our readers are in the very early stages of their careers as instrumentalists. Do you have any advice for young musicians and developing artists about pursuing a performance career?

1) Take all concerts VERY seriously – no matter how small
2) Take advice from your mentors
3) Make time to practice
4) An engagement is important, but the re-engagement defines the career
5) IF you are 100% sure you want to make music your life: NEVER give up.

A Composition Recipe: Sam Colcheedas

Usually in a recipe, the first thing you do is pre-heat the oven. This is not one of those recipes. There is no need to venture to the market to retrieve wild field mushrooms or Mongolian goat cheese. No, no. The only ingredient you’ll need for this recipe is an open mind and the expectation for the unknown. The below recipe depicts my creative process for the composition of a recently finished piano work, titled A wayward zephyr, in March of this year.

Step 1: Preheat the oven t-... - Okay so now that I'm being serious... These steps are ones that I have only walked myself once or twice. Composition for me is quite foreign and the act of putting musical thoughts onto paper is one of the more unorthodox things I’ve done in my musical escapades so far. Any musician is used to reading a note on a score, and then playing that note on their instrument. The task in going from point A to B is relatively straightforward. Intuitively, doing the reverse and going from point B to A should be as simple as playing a note, then writing it down, but I regret to inform you that it is not. Of course, you are able to write down whatever notes you want, but justifying why you have put them down is the part that begins turning the creative cogs and puzzling the most inventive minds.

Step 2: Your skeleton - Whilst it is tempting to go full speed ahead and start writing down ideas, creating the skeleton of your first composition is a key part of the compositional process. This allows you to look at the big picture and plan for what lies ahead. I often get caught up in minuscule and irrelevant musical ideas that don’t relate enough to the skeleton. Having a clear idea of your story and narrative allows your mind to run wild with ideas whilst not getting too sidetracked. I started out with a detailed skeleton for A wayward zephyr and within a few hours was already re-writing my structure and ignoring my well-thought-out narrative. This was an important lesson that leads us to step 3.

Step 3: Abandoning your skeleton - It is a risk to go against all of the previous structure you have established. By all means you may stick to it, but I’ve always believed in intuition and trusting yourself. If you’re forcing ideas to spring to life, or developing a motif against its will, then it’s time to take a step back and approach your work from a different angle. Remember those ‘irrelevant musical ideas that don’t relate enough to the skeleton’ ? You got caught up in these ideas for a reason. You were drawn to them, and since you are no longer constrained to your structure, rejoice! Rejoice in the concept of abandonment and different angles. You make the rules, and you’re most certainly allowed to break them.

Step 4: Developing your ideas - Once you are content with the direction you are going in, it is highly recommended that you write down any ideas that you have, even if they are nonsensical. They may not seem relevant at the moment, but I assure you, they will be viable for future use in your composition or other projects. Thinking in a linear frame of mind restricts your creativity and creates blockages that make it difficult to manoeuvre your narrative’s pathway. Putting too much thought into how you will get to the next step may cause more strife than you bargained for. Allow your mind to wander and allow yourself to explore what doesn’t work well, so you are led towards ideas that do point you in the right direction. I have found that you achieve quite a lot away from the piano. Sleeping, walking, eating: all of these things allow your subconscious to work away in the background while you focus on other tasks. The next time you return to your pencil and paper, seemingly out of thin air you will pluck ideas that fuel you to venture further and deeper into the unexplored possibilities of your composition.

Step 5: The dreaded, yet inevitable, road block - It sometimes comes out of the blue. It creeps up on you when you least expect it. It recognises that you’re in a rhythm, and it wraps itself around you, blocking your vision. The direction you were going in is now questioned and any efforts you make to justify moving forward are futile. This tap on your shoulder that contradicts your next move, sardonically whispering ‘really, that’s what you’re going to write next?’, is a necessary part of the compositional process. It allows you to review what you have already written and logically think about getting past this minor inconvenience. Embrace the awkwardness and the frustration! Ironically, in writing this step, I had major writer’s block. Poetic justice? No. Frustrating? Most certainly.

Step 6: Accepting your indecisiveness - Unsure whether you’re satisfied with the finished product? Are you still thinking about whether bar number 67 fits properly? These are all questions that chime the bells of indecisiveness and perfectionism. Musicians are known for meticulously spending hours upon hours on a single bar of music in amongst a sea of hundreds more. Perfecting your composition is sometimes a lifelong endeavour, but it shows your passion for being an artist of sound. Whatever imperfections lie in your cacophony of notes don’t hinder its quality. These imperfections make up your efforts and your willingness (or reluctancy) to be human. Leading up to the premiere performance of A wayward zephyr in the middle of March this year, I am still making changes and edits. It has gotten to the point where it is becoming an obsession. An obsession for change and an obsession for what is ‘right’ one day and ‘wrong’ the next are tell-tale signs of madness. (Really, I think every true musician is a little mad anyway.) Always leave a window open for change; you never know when you’ll need to climb through.

Step 7: The beginning - So, you now have your final product. A story told from beginning to end; a story that you have conjured up and put into more than just notes on a page. You started with a blank canvas and created a piece that mirrors your inner workings and thoughts as a musician. Being able to communicate through sound takes courage, conviction and determination. Embrace the emptiness of those unwritten bars and forgotten melodies. They will eventually all lead you to bigger and better things that form the beginnings of even the most sumptuous ideas.

In Conversation: SPIRAL

While they were in Melbourne to see the Philip Glass Ensemble perform Koyaanisqatsi, SPIRAL joined Rehearsal Mag for a chat about all things minimalism, collaboration and how playing Glass' early works made them a stronger ensemble.

Joshua Winestock: SPIRAL kind of started out of our obsession with Philip Glass. Will Hansen began getting people together for a Philip Glass ensemble, so there were a whole bunch of us on different instruments starting to play. We were a really oddball ensemble: we had lots of keyboard players and our roster would change from week to week depending on who was available. We tried to rehearse as often as possible, and that was our existence for the first year.

Rehearsal: Were you performing?

JW: We performed twice that year and just Philip Glass' music. Both of our concerts were at the Sydney Con for our colleagues, and preparing for those performances really bound us together as an ensemble; the seemingly simple pieces are actually very specific technical and ensemble exercises. Will, who put us together in the first place, would have to nod his head to indicate the changes, and if one person got out it became chaotic. Those rehearsals really forced us to find out what our musical identity was, and how we were going to progress as an ensemble. It forced us to think more about our sound and how we wanted to deliver our music.

Will Hansen: After that year, we had a discussion and kind of thought, we've run out of early Glass pieces, so why not do something else? Some of the music that we play now is still classic minimalism, but the pieces we're each writing for the ensemble are a little more genre-bending because we want our work to appeal to an audience of young people, like us. At the moment you go see contemporary classical music and it's still a pretty formal process of sitting down and watching the concert. I don't think there's anything wrong with that, but I do think minimalism benefits from audience interaction and encouraging the people watching to engage in a relaxed manner.

JW: It can be a really personal experience, listening to this kind of minimal music. We are really an ensemble of seven composers, and like all composers, we're trying to get our pieces played, so as a group it seems like a course of great integrity to play our own works. As well as just being intellectually involved in the process as composers, we want to be involved at all stages, and be responsible for the work we're putting out into the world. Really, we think it's the solution to not having any performance opportunities!

Josephine Macken: We've been slowly discovering the importance of the physicality of producing music, so as much as composers work in solitude coming up with these esoteric ideas, there's a lot of weight and significance behind actually picking up an instrument, creating sounds and blending as an ensemble.

Rory Knott: As a group, we're creating a space where it's very easy to experiment and try things that may not be successful the first time we do them. I don't think that there's necessarily enough interaction between composers and performers, particularly at the early stages of workshopping, which is hard because if you're a composer you have to be figuring everything out yourself. We want all the choices that we make surrounding our music to reflect this too, so our choice of venue for this gig works really well. Previously we've only performed at the university in what is naturally quite a formal setting, so this venue [The Red Rattler], which hosts rock bands and experimental ensembles, is a really great place to reinvent the wheel. It's cool to play for an audience that's interested in hearing new music that's not necessarily related to the contemporary classical genre at all.

JM: We've heard from people who have no connection to the institution, but have picked up on what we're doing because of this venue. It's great to have that kind of outreach and to have our music heard by a diverse range of people with different musical tastes and preferences.

Rehearsal: So how has this particular concert been programmed?

WH: It's a mix of classic minimalist works and new works. We're opening with China Gates by John Adams to establish the mood and get everyone chilled out, and the rest of the program includes works by some of us! We have three new pieces in this performance: a work by Josh for the full ensemble, a work by Rory for the full ensemble, and a work by Sarah who has written a piece for solo double bass.

JW: It is really important to us that we all have an opportunity to write for our own ensemble. When I first brought my piece to the group, they approached it as performers and learnt how to play it, and once they'd learnt the notes we all workshopped it together, and they brought forward ideas and suggestions, and that process was so valuable to me as a composer.

WH: That workshop stage is absolutely crucial to us - both for the performers and the composer - because unlike playing in a symphony orchestra, which is like "here's the music, learn to play it", we get to feel a sense of community and help create the new piece together. The time we spend workshopping each piece has actually really sped up our entire process and made us more efficient as a group.

JW: Because we are doing this collaborative process of workshopping with every piece we play, our identity as a group has begun to influence all of our individual compositions, and we're helping to develop each other's compositional style, which is really gratifying.

WH: Minimalism as a genre has really bound us together as well, and I think that because it has really laid the foundations for a lot of new music today, it's influenced all our styles significantly and brought us together as a stronger group.

JM: We owe a lot to the artistic community as well, because a lot of performance spaces are open to bringing new styles new artists in, who don't necessarily have a heap of experience. It's fantastic to see these spaces thrive on supporting the work of developing artists. We definitely use the space that we're performing in to help dictate how we program. We're really interested in the building a context around the works we play and considering how each piece might come across in say, a concert hall as opposed to a bar.

WH: Absolutely. We still feel that there is a culture of politeness, and a bit of a social stigma around going into a concert hall as an audience member - like, sometimes I want to burst out in applause after every movement of a work, but you just can't. I think because it's our basic desire as humans to express our emotions, it's really important to us that our audience can do that when they feel like it. So working in different venues is really important to us as an ensemble.

Rehearsal: What's your rehearsal process been like for this concert?

WH: Unlike last year, when we had a pretty strict rehearsal schedule, this concert has been a bit less formal. We've been rehearsing a bit at my house, and how we structure it our sessions has been basically just an hour for each piece. The whole process of workshopping the piece and getting it together by talking about it is really beneficial to us. At the moment we're rehearsing together every day.

RK: We've been beefing up our rehearsal schedule as we've gotten closer to the performance. We normally do two rehearsals a week, because we've simply found it super necessary when playing this type of music. It's a bit like playing period music: you have to know the style and work really hard to get it technically correct. Our discipline comes from practicing that early Glass music; we would play each piece for fifteen minutes, stuff it up, and then start again. There was so much persistence. It was like physical exercise - you have to build up your stamina.

JM: We were shockingly bad at the start! We sometimes didn't even last fifteen minutes playing an hour long piece! We were five minutes in and we'd be out of sync or have intonation issues and have to recalibrate and give it another try.

WH: The amount of blending and the amount of ensemble awareness that we've developed has shot us a year or two ahead rehearsal-wise, though, so it's been so worth it. We're able to tackle new pieces now with a much better technical understanding, thanks to playing those Glass pieces for a whole year. Now that we've developed a tighter ensemble, we're keen to start supporting up-and-coming composers by performing their works and workshopping their pieces with them, just like we've done for each other. We're looking at commissioning a couple of works pretty soon and continuing to support the connection between composers and performers. Generally, someone gives you a piece, you play it, and it's done, and we want to help made sure that composers get more out of their work than just that.

Rehearsal: So ensuring that each piece you perform has some kind of longevity and life of its own is important to you as an ensemble?

JM: We want to be able to say more than "we can play this piece in a concert for you". We really want to have this strong set of works written by us and others that we can champion over our time together as an ensemble.

JW: Longevity is a really good word, because if a piece has a potential lifespan of more than one concert, it can take on a life of its own, and that's really what all composers want to see, isn't it?

In Conversation: Yebin Yoo

2016 was a year full of performance accomplishments for you, as a semi-finalist in the Dorcas McClean Travelling Scholarship for Violinists, finalist in the Open Instrumental Australian Concerto and Vocal Competition, as Young Performer of the Year in the Abbotsford Convent's Music in the Round, and, most recently, as the winner of the Gisborne International Music Competition and the 3MBS's The Talent. What was your experience like during The Talent?

Last year’s experience of The Talent is still extremely vivid. The competition helped me to find my own, individual voice – to form an interpretation from personal experiences. The peaceful but also extremely professional atmosphere encouraged me to explore the hidden depths of emotion and seek higher levels of intellect. More emphasis was on the music being created, making the whole event very inspirational and enriching. The jury’s feedback immediately following each performance invited the competitors to explore ideas beyond one’s boundaries – an individual and notable feature of the competition.

I would see The Talent more as a platform for young musicians to grow and share their music than a competition. In its duration, I felt like I could always express my musical ideas and emotions freely; this freedom certainly helped me to shape a performance with spontaneity and imagination. Unlike any other performances I have done, I was able to utilise nerves for creativity and expression. The live broadcast was another special aspect of the competition – the audience was simultaneously at the other end of the radio. This stimulated me to deliver a clearer and stronger musical conviction so that my ideas could reach the distant ears.

My first round performance in particular was the most memorable; occurring on International Women’s Day, I celebrated the music of Australian female composer Margaret Sutherland. I truly admire her works in their unique identity and capacity to mirror the spirit of nature. Seeing women breaking through the musical industry, especially in the domains of composition, is meaningful as I’ve grown up seeing the industry almost male-dominated. The collective musical experience of The Talent will prevail for a long time.

How do you prepare for competitions, such as The Talent and the Gisborne International Music Competition? Does your mindset change from the beginning of a competition to the finals?

As stressful and exhausting preparations for competitions can be, this pressure and challenge is what has helped me to improve significantly. Competitions have a high demand for repertoire and to have every piece assembled into the best condition is an enduring process. I like to think of this preparation period as a marathon - it is a test for endurance, resilience and mental strength.

Every day I strive to take a step further and view the music with ‘fresh eyes’ in hope of finding new discoveries and innovations. As with any performance, I also try to treat the piano or orchestral score like the bible. The understanding of the other parts escalates the learning process.

Throughout competitions, the atmosphere intensifies towards the finals. However, I personally feel the complete opposite, sensing more stress at the beginning of the competition and less as I progress through. The closer to the finals, the more I am able to focus on the music, perhaps as I am more familiar with the environment and have a clearer perception of what to expect. Ultimately, competitions serve as new opportunities and doorways for musicians and should be a place to express one’s soul. I always endeavour to set music as the central focus of any competition and try to contemplate on how my performance will offer the audience an emotional journey and spiritual connection.

You are a full music scholar at Firbank Grammar School, and you also study at the Australian National Academy of Music with Dr Robin Wilson. How do you balance your music and academic study, as well as a social life and down time?

Well, it is certainly very difficult but as I enjoy music, my music study acts as a relief from academic study. It is a special privilege to perform with the Australian National Academy of Music orchestra and to learn from Dr Robin Wilson; I am constantly surrounded by inspiration, making music feel more like an entertainment than a study. Music can also be therapeutic in that I can pour all my emotions into the music and immerse myself in a world away from reality.

In more general terms, I tend to focus more on the effectiveness of present and rather than getting too particular about systematically balancing study and down time as a matter of time. I like to think of my leisure time as having a mutual dependence with study, as appropriate doses of rest can be very beneficial.

You have mentioned that you started playing the violin when you were eight; quite late by some standards! What has helped you to become so successful so quickly?

I am so thankful to have so many incredible people in my life; the immense support of my family, my incredible teacher and mentor Dr Robin Wilson, ongoing inspiration John Curro and many more. However, it has been God who has been my biggest supporter, helping me to advance through my shortfalls and failures and place greater importance on the enjoyment of music. It was from these shortfalls that I learnt the real meaning of music – a special language that can deliver indescribable emotions. I think that trying to express these feelings in an honest, open way to the audience enhances any performance experience. I believe that the ability to express extreme depths of emotion comes from an experience of spiritual connection and faith.

Do you have any tried and true practice tips for other young musicians?

Yes, I think that a very important part of practice is mental analysis. The thinking process of practice should be problem-solving and logical, and it is critical to find the roots of any inaccuracies or mistakes, hypothesising possible causes and experimenting solutions. A high level of concentration is required of such practice and it is something to be continuously worked on.

When there is a high demand for repertoire, I rely on interleaved and non-linear practice, where a passage is polished briefly and is visited numerous times a day (rather than once or twice). This type of practice forces the brain to recall more actively and is far more effective in the long-term. It produces more myelin, an element of the brain that deals with speed and precision – particularly helpful for musicians.

I also cannot stress enough on the importance of performance practice. The execution process during performance practice is in a different dimension to one in the practice room. Even during the early preparation stages, performance practice can be very valuable, it is like a reflection of how well you practiced!

If you could travel back in time and choose a different instrument to play, would you? What would it be?

I have never doubted my choice of instrument - the violin has something truly special about its timbre - something very soul-ringing. At times I feel as though my violin has its own feelings, temper and spirit, and the magic in the music is only created when I connect and become one with it. It is the warmth and vocal qualities of the violin that makes it so special and spiritual!

It is also very interesting how unique each violin can be from one another, where it be more masculine or feminine, each has its own personality. It is because of this individuality that the violin can capture so many different images, sounds and emotions; the sound world is limitless and challenging. In this way, I think that the violin encourages one to keep developing and maturing both as a musician and a human being.

In Conversation: Fiona Menzies
Following the announcement of the Australian Cultural Fund’s Double the Score campaign, we sat down with Creative Partnerships Australia’s CEO Fiona Menzies to talk about funding, relationship management and getting your work out there.

Creative Partnerships Australia administers the Australian Cultural Fund, alongside running workshops and mentoring for musicians. Could you tell me about what CPA does on a broader scale in supporting Australian musicians?

Creative Partnerships Australia has a broad remit that is, at its core, centred around encouraging Australian artists to seek out corporate sponsorship and individual donations, and supporting them in that process. There are some amazing opportunities for young artists and musicians in this country, and our goal is to continue growing the pie of funds that they have to work with. We work across a few areas - speaking with businesses, philanthropists, arts organisations and the artists themselves to help each party be better at finding and maintaining relationships with one another. Many people from both sides of the equation - both the artists and the potential supporters - don’t know how to find each other, or don’t feel comfortable approaching the person they’re interested in supporting or being supported by, seemingly out of the blue! We try to help them understand how the the person they are asking is thinking, and therefore how they can approach them. We work to help artists learn how best to pitch to private donors and then, once the pitch has been made successfully (hopefully!) how they should continue to build their relationship with their sponsor. It can be really little things, like remembering to thank them, or bigger ideas about how to best nurture their relationships. It’s important to me that artists understand that they need to operate like a business. They are no different to doctors or plumbers or shop owners. In lots of different professions, people work individually or in small groups, and artists need to know how to operate as a business. It’s absolutely crucial.

How early in your musical journey or profession should you be thinking about these big business ideas?

From the time you’re studying at university you’re forging ideas about the practice you’re running. For example, you may want to be a soloist as well as, perhaps, in some kind of ensemble like a chamber group or an orchestra. You may also want to work as a freelancer and work with different groups of people throughout your career. When you’re studying you absolutely should be thinking about your ideal practice - whatever it may be - and as part of that you need to be thinking about how it’s going to be funded. Start thinking straight away about the kind of commercial opportunities that are available, and whether you could be working to receive government funding. University is a really great time to start building relationships as well, with other musicians and the community that is supporting the arts. Start developing those relationships as soon as you can, and, if possible, get private donors who are interested. The earlier you do it the better, because as you progress and build your practice you can take them on the journey with you. Good business practice is to always have more than one funding source, and this is something you should start thinking about as early as possible. If, for example, you’re in the business of making ballpoint pens, there’s no point selling to one retailer, because as soon as they go broke you’re out of business. If you’re selling to six businesses and one goes bust you’ll take a knock but most likely you’ll be okay. There are relatively good government funding opportunities in Australia, but it’s in your interest as an artist to have other options!

Can you tell me about the Australian Cultural Fund, and why that was set up?

The Australian Cultural Fund was set up in order to provide a mechanism through which donors can give funds to individual artists with a tax deduction, which usually is only a possibility when you give to an organisation with Deductible Gift Recipient (DGR) status. Creative Partnerships Australia has DGR status; we’ve created it so the donor gives their donation to us and we make the decision to honour their preference and pass it on to the artist of their choice. The ACF has actually existed for more than decade, but we only digitised in 2015, which has made the whole process a lot easier. The website has been constructed to be as easy as possible for both the artists and the donors, and we’ve seen the number of donations and the value of donations increase dramatically as a result. You have to make it easy for people to give, so all you have to do on the website as a donor is search for the project that you’re interested in, then fill in a small amount of information. We really believe this is a facility that artists should know about and access for their projects, because it does make it simple for their patrons to support them. The other thing about the Australian Cultural Fund that is really important to us is the fact that it is a democratic process of funding that is helping people move away from the notion that only highly wealthy people can be philanthropic. It may sounds cliché, but it really doesn’t matter how much or how little you give because you’re contributing to something that is greater than what you could do with your own funds. Everyone can help, and every contribution counts.

The Art Music Fund, run by APRA AMCOS, is a really great platform for young composers to develop their own projects - what about that particular initiative attracted you at Creative Partnerships Australia?

One of the things I love about the Art Music Fund is that the recipient of the funding has to have two performances lined up, which is absolutely terrific. I think it’s also really important to be supporting the creators of new work - the composers, the writers and the choreographers, rather than putting all of the focus on the performers. This fund works because it allows people to support the makers in a really sustainable way, where you are seeing a project eventuate into a live performance rather than helping fund a work that never gets performed. It’s important to us that we’re supporting the creation of works that get heard by audiences, and not just heard once but heard multiple times. We think it’s a really fantastic program, and APRA has committed to putting that money in, so I think it will be clear to people how good the project is and therefore help increase the amount of funds. The Fund is never limited by the amount of talent needing support - rather, it is limited by the amount of money, so therefore if we can make an extra $8000 we can help the Fund support one extra composer. I think that makes the entire process really compelling to us.

Can you share some tips on applying for grants in general?

Three things -

Read the guidelines thoroughly: What you’re putting in has to meet the criteria, I can’t say that enough. Don’t skim read through the terms. We recognise how hard it is to forge a life as an artist, but people do often throw proposals in for everything without putting in the time it takes to get it right.

Ask questions: If you can, ring the potential funder and ask them your questions. Don’t be scared to ask if your project idea is hitting the mark; it’s absolutely worth your time to have that conversation. People generally like having that conversation, because it makes their job easier in the end. Whether you’re in the government or the private sector, you receive zillions of applications, so it's in your own interest to cut the ones that aren’t relevant. Don’t let this happen to you! Make sure you can’t be cut.

Get people to read it! Before you press submit, get someone completely unrelated to read your application. It’s easy to slip into jargon, or to assume certain bits of knowledge, particularly as a musician, so if you can get a friend or relative outside the industry to check that it makes sense, that’s really good. People are willing to help!

What do young people and artists need to know about the general state of philanthropic and business support for artists in Australia, and how can they best harness the available opportunities for funding?

I would say that business support is quite hard to get, though not impossible. However, it is more focussed on organisations rather than individuals, so finding out about philanthropic support is an easier start. Philanthropy in the arts is absolutely growing, and you’d be silly not to jump on that bandwagon. It does take time and effort, but it’s worth being part of. You do have to put time into cultivating and managing your relationships often over several years, because people aren’t just going to hand you their hard earned cash. In terms of harnessing these type of relationships, you need to start by looking for people who share your passion. It doesn’t matter whether your passion project is creating new work or performing Elgar, you will find someone who shares that love, and that’s where it all begins. When you’re cultivating these relationships it’s important to remember that when someone wants to invest their money, it is of course because they love it, and if they love it they generally know a lot about it. Never assume that your supporters have no knowledge. They want to engage in the art form that they love, so you as an artist need to really respect that. Also, keep them informed!! If you’ve got something coming up - perhaps a performance of a work your funder helped make possible - make sure you let them know. Being fully engaged makes a huge difference.

CPA runs a significant number of events and master classes for artists to get a handle on the business and fundraising side of artistic practice - can you tell me a bit about the mentoring program that you offer?

Absolutely - we offer free mentoring from each of the state managers, which is something you can easily get involved in through the website. They will chat with you and see where you’re at and give you some hints about what you should be thinking about. You can structure it as a one-off chat, or you make more regular appointments. I think as an individual artist it is a really great opportunity to chat with someone and bounce ideas off them. Each of the state managers have a broad understanding of the industry in different ways - some were practicing arts workers while others work for corporates running sponsorship programs. I can’t encourage people enough to ring or email and ask us questions. We always prefer to be asked, and it’s true that there is no such thing as a dumb question. If you’re keen to get involved with the courses run by CPA, the easiest way to find out about what is coming up is through the eNews!

Your Mentors: Tinalley String Quartet

In 2017, Tinalley's programs will centre around the literary works of Leo Tolstoy, one of the greatest writers of all time. What is it about his words that have inspired composers for so long?

I think inspiration (for composers and artists alike) is stirred by things that are passionate, evocative and relatable. It strikes me that Tolstoy's novels have all of these qualities; the (often epic) story unfolds amongst very real, 'human' characters as nature takes its course on their lives. I can imagine that narratives such as these would be irresistible to composers - his greatest epics are almost Wagnerian, and the stories always capture the imagination. Tolstoy was also acutely aware of music's power to influence human emotion, and his novel 'The Kreutzer Sonata' tells of a jealous husband driven to murder under the influence of Beethoven's violin sonata. This, in turn, provided inspiration for Leos Janácek, who was so affected by the passion and tragedy of the story that he wrote both a quartet and an unfinished piano trio based on its subject matter. It's a wonderful example of both art forms and their ability to inspire yet more wonderful art!

As a quartet, you have performed the most well-loved works of the genre as well as brand new commissions and collaborations, both of which offer their own unique challenges. This first program sees you focussing on three masterworks of quartet writing - what have you found to be the challenges in presenting pieces that are standards in the repertory compared to working with entirely new writing?

I think there are undoubtedly challenges with both, but there is a certain weight that you carry when performing the masterworks in the quartet repertoire. Not only are they so well known, but there is a history of performance (that all of us inherit as musicians) that can be both a blessing and a curse. New works, on the other hand, present both the fear and the excitement of the unknown. Where we have to sometimes guess the intent of a composer with older repertoire, and with new repertoire we often have the composer as a very present voice in exactly how he or she may wish to have things executed - which can be both wonderful and slightly limiting as a performer! The string quartet is a medium that many renowned composers were incredibly intimidated by, so the craft of the writing in many of these cornerstones of the repertoire is extraordinary. Ultimately, both require the utmost skill and preparation.

Each member of Tinalley juggles ensemble rehearsals alongside a combination of work in major orchestras, teaching, and artistic leadership. What is the process of structuring your rehearsals around your other commitments, and how do the other parts of your career inform your ensemble playing?

We simply wouldn't be able to exist without being incredibly organised. Planning our schedules happens between 12-18 months ahead, with the understanding of our respective workplaces, and a lot of flexibility from us all individually. It means we are all exceptionally busy most of the time, but it's the price you pay to be able to do what we love! There are a lot of emails, balancing repertoire and time that we have, and ensuring we are all incredibly prepared when we meet to rehearse! For all of us, this will mean time away from home at some point, and a decent amount of travel. But the best part is being able to have work that is constantly making us better musicians, and incredibly varied. It means meeting as an ensemble is always a joy, and we value it all the more.

There is a myriad of tasks - both artistic and administrative - that come as part and parcel of playing in an ensemble. How do you delegate the jobs that fall outside of rehearsal and performance? Who does what?

We all have grown into various tasks over the years that we either excel at, or have learned to do over our time. Without management, all of the day to day runnings of the quartet are left to us, and I should say largely to our powerhouse inner voices Lerida and Justin (absolute superstars the pair of them)! Then, other tasks we try and divide accordingly. It is hard, and we are always trying to achieve a better balance!

As a young quartet, you had the opportunity to work with some incredible people who became mentors to you as an ensemble. Why is mentoring important for young performers?

When you start playing chamber music, it is rare that it's with the intent of 'we want to be the next St Lawrence String Quartet'. It's more often that you might play a concert together, then play another concert together....and before you know it - you're preparing for competitions, and study and you've created a life for yourselves. But it's unlikely that you'll know exactly what that life is going to entail, or how difficult it will be! We were so lucky to have incredible mentors who were able to guide us along the way - helping us navigate the harder aspects of being in an ensemble that sometimes have very little to do with playing your instrument! As a result, giving back some of the time and generosity that we received as a young ensemble has become a real passion of mine (and Tinalley's). It's a tough career, but a wonderful one - sometimes you just need a little helping hand to guide you along the way.

To have a successful chamber ensemble, you have to do more than just play the notes really well. Can you tell us about some of the business skills that you've had to learn that have helped make Tinalley the success it is?

I can safely say we had very little idea of the skills we would need to create what we have at the moment. Most of that has been by learning on the fly, the generosity of a few wonderful people, a sometimes insane amount of time not spent on the instrument, and a healthy mix of sheer blind luck and very hard work. Website building, promotional materials, tax, scheduling, writing copy, social media management, donor building, grant writing....you name it - we've had to learn it. This isn't something you are often told when you're at university!!! And in our industry, we are in the same market as organisations that have up to 30 people doing these many jobs. In our case - it's just four. It is hard, but there is a sense of incredible pride to see what we've created after all these years, and I'm so lucky to have colleagues that do this with such incredible professionalism.

For Rehearsal readers who are just getting started on their journey into chamber music, what initial advice do you have about setting up an ensemble?

This will be hard, but it will be one of the best things you ever do as a musician. It will be many hours of work both on and off the instrument, but if you are surrounded by a great group of people (as I have been) then the world is your oyster. Ask for advice wherever you can, be organised, and make a priority of seeing the 'long term view' for your group. The thing I see so often these days is ensembles setting themselves up purely for the benefit of going for competitions (and hopefully being successful). Try it the other way around. Set yourselves up as an ensemble, establish wonderful performances, study lots and then make the competition just another performance. It is just one aspect of a wonderful journey - not the end game. The best reward, however, is knowing that chamber music will enhance your skills as a musician - the best orchestral players I know (and soloists I might add) are all wonderful chamber musicians.

In Conversation: Hang Massive

The handpan or hang (not hang drum) is a convex steel drum played with the hands and tuned with multiple notes in a diatonic scale. After the viral success of their online videos, Hang Massive are some of the worlds best known hang based musicians. They are currently on a global tour.

When did you first start playing the hang? How did you come together as a duo, and how did the hang facilitate that?

Danny: I first started playing the hang in 2006 when the instrument was very new and almost unknown. I had been living in India in the winter for many years and that is where I met Markus. When we first met we started jamming with me playing hang and Markus playing Djembe and when we returned back to Europe that is when we started playing hang together. That was in 2010. We played in the streets for some years and that is where our style and sound came about.

Your music blends acoustic and electronic music in a unique way. From where do you draw inspiration?

Markus: We draw inspiration from all of the different genres of music that we have enjoyed and loved throughout our lives. We bring different elements of this into the way that we play the hang. We also draw deep inspiration from a relaxed way of being and from the spontaneous nature of reality.

Can you tell us more about Balanced View? How does your music reflect its principles and teachings?

Danny: Balanced View is the most incredible of teachings and something that has been a part of Hang Massive since the beginning. Both myself, Markus and Victoria, who will also be performing with us on this tour are very much involved with this lifestyle. Balanced View is an ancient teaching and message that is now brought forward by the founder, Candice O’Denver. Candice is a formal lineage holder of the Nyingma Lineage. The basis of the teaching is deep relaxation in all moments regardless of circumstance. This is something that when practiced can bring about incredible results and it is from this space and vantage that the music that we create comes forth.

Distant Light is your first studio album, following two albums of live recordings. How did the process of recording in the studio change the way in which you envisaged the final product?

Markus: We took this opportunity to bring many new flavours together and to fuse them with the incredible sounds of the hang. The process brought many new possibilities in terms of recording technique and production styles. It was great working with Morgan Davenport who produced the album and the combination of us all together was really fun and we loved the results.

Finally, do you have projects coming up that you are excited about? Can you tell us more about these?

We have so many exciting things happening this year. In the next months, we will release and electronic fusion album with our great friend J Rokka from the UK. The album features a range of incredible styles and massive tracks. We will also start recording a new Hang Massive album in Sweden in the early summer before heading off on a massive tour of the USA and Canada before returning back to Europe for another tour run there in the Autumn. Many exciting things to come so keep an eye on the website and FB page to stay up to date.

In Conversation: Adam Simmons

Your upcoming concert series 'The Usefulness of Art' spans multiple genres and incorporates the sounds of objects as well as instruments. Can you tell me about the conception of this idea, and your inspirations for building a show in this way?

I have always enjoyed playing music from a broad range of genres - on a practical level, it has just been a consequence of trying to cobble together enough work to survive as a musician. But on an artistic level, having experience and understanding of different genres, instruments, mediums, musicians, teachers, cultures, whatever, have all helped influence my music in one form or another. I remember my father gave my sister and I a turntable when we were probably around 5 or 6 years old, plus a bunch of less precious albums that we were allowed to play. These included Howlin' Wolf, West Side Story, Yes, Tom Jones, and something from the Mickey Mouse Club. But once I was allowed to access the real collection, I was listening to the likes of Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Art Ensemble of Chicago, World Saxophone Quartet, Elton John, The Beatles, Captain Beefheart, Buddy Guy, Philip Glass, Anthony Braxton, Glenn Gould, Steve Young, and Albert Ayler. Many of these artists are extremely diverse in their approach and their output. For me, this diversity seems to just be part and parcel of developing and exploring one's craft. Only later on did I come to understand that it was maybe the exception rather than the rule.

"The Usefulness of Art" is something that I have conceived to help bring together some of my various threads, whether stylistically or by way of my broad network of colleagues. I have identified several aspects that inform each of the works, though maybe explored in different forms. So, rather than present each one separately, by performing them within a larger series, I hope it will help develop and frame the works as a cohesive collection.

As an artist in our current political climate, the "usefulness" of our work is often called into question. What are your thoughts on the use of art on a broad scale, and how is this depicted in your concert series?

Reading Auguste Rodin's thoughts about "The Usefulness of the Artist" while studying helped give me some reason for becoming a musician, by naming "useful all that gives us happiness". But after many years of performance experience and a mix of formal and informal research, I am now of the firm belief that art is a vital part of our humanity. It is something which helps build community through expression and sharing of our diversities, leading to better understanding. Art helps develop empathy, it helps to communicate beyond verbal language, and it can help to physically form different and new neural pathways. Yet, in the current political climate, I feel the usefulness of art is measured solely in terms of the financial benefits it brings - this is most evident in how we now talk about creative industry and creative economies. This has been exacerbated by cuts to various arts institutions and federal arts funding cuts over recent years.

I might be grumpy about stuff, but I don't know how to change things. I am a musician, and not a very influential one - if I choose not to put my music in Spotify, no one is going to care. So my response has been to work from a positive place and do what I do, which is compose and play music. It may be to a small community, but if I can help an audience understand the value and necessity of art in their own life through an actual art experience, that is within my capacity to achieve.

What I would really like to do is build a community through this series. Not just an audience, but a community. It might not be that everyone comes to the gigs, it might just be through someone reading this article that the community grows. But words only get so far - it is the doing, the experience; that is where things are transmitted, transformed and understood. Each concert will take a willing listener on a journey - even tonight, one of the musicians at rehearsal remarked she was reliving all of the emotions in a physical way from the premiere performance which was nearly a year and a half ago. And in this way the artists themselves will also by necessity become part of the community through their performances. This is not a gig to just clock in and out of - I ask a lot of both audience and performer alike, but it is about going on a shared journey and enjoying the adventures that pop up.

You often use toy pianos and other toy instruments in your work, and you have spent a large portion of your career teaching. Has working with children influenced your performance and composition, or developed your ideas on creativity in any way?

Yes, in some ways, teaching and working with young children have influenced my ideas, yet that's not where the influence for using toys came from. The main thing that I think I have perceived from my various interactions with young children is that they are open to all kinds of music when young, which slowly narrows as they grow. One thing I have seen is my own kids happy to watch Hi-5 on television, but they never asked to listen to it as music - instead, they would ask for the "sleepy music" (Kind of Blue by Miles Davis) or "the pussy music" (Debussy) or the ballet music (more Debussy or anything classical). From this, I take away the belief that if music (or art) is engaging, then it will connect on some level at whatever age - and that it is actually incumbent upon us to expose our youth to quality arts experiences. One thing I have seen in Europe is how the CD collections in people’s homes can be extremely varied, especially in contrast to homes of the general Australian populace. Imagine if our culture encouraged sport and art, instead of forcing a dichotomous wedge between them?

Teaching is something I could talk about for quite a while. But let me just say that while it is not my focus, it has played a vital role in my own development and I have come to understand the great value of transmitting knowledge to others, young and old.

The toys actually came from working in 2001 with Motoko Shimizu, a fellow resident at Music Omi (USA). It was part of her practice, and it was just a natural extension for me from the kinds of explorations into extended techniques that I use on my conventional instruments. They certainly have been useful in expanding my opportunities to share music - in part because it opened up the chance to play for young children, but more because the use of toys helps to open up the minds of adults. Toys bring a sense of play, of fun, of nostalgia, as well as opening up the possibility that the listener might actually be able to do the same thing - and indeed, I have often given toys and party supplies to the audience, allowing them to become partners in creating soundscapes and musical experiences.

Can you tell us about how you came to music, and what made you realise that pursuing a career in the arts was what you wanted to do?

Well, I'm not sure I had much choice - my father is a sax player also, self-taught but with big ears and a whole lot of passion. My mother was not a performer but I do remember long sessions where I think she would improvise loosely around certain pieces she had learnt as a child. Friends of my father would come around and they'd be sharing their latest vinyl acquisitions, getting excited, swearing, drinking wine and pumping it up loud on the AR speakers. As I mentioned earlier, we were given a portable record player to use as we liked. We would watch Countdown together religiously on a Sunday night, but we'd watch Young Talent Time also. Music was just always there.

In terms of actually playing music, I first dabbled in a snippet of piano with my mother's guidance, but I gave up when I had to do two things at the same time. Later in Grade 2, there was the option of beginning recorder, which I did. Choosing to do it helped immensely as in Grade 3 it was introduced to everyone as a compulsory instrument. While everyone was struggling to learn the basics, I was going home and memorising the song for the next day. This set me up for my first "real" instrument, clarinet. I wanted to play sax and had been mucking around on my father's soprano sax, but my teacher, Peter Russell, suggested that clarinet would be a better place to start, should I one day wish to play both. To cut a long story short, I then added saxophone to my repertoire when I began high school and flute towards the end of year 10.

Though, while I enjoyed music, I didn't seriously consider that I would ever be good enough to pursue it as a career. My dad introduced my to Keith Wilson, a saxophonist and teacher (he taught me my first blues scale that got me improvising), to talk to me about being a professional musician. I thought that if I was really lucky that I might be able to become a music teacher, but even that seemed out of my league. I fully expected to go into maths or physics - the theoretical and experimental stuff, mind you - and I could have, but I decided to try music first with a fallback option. As it happened, I just kept on going...

For young performers interested in being involved in multiple different ways of making art, what advice do you have on diversifying and creating your own opportunities?

As Henry Rollins would say, "Do it!" Especially when you're young. There are artists like Eugene Ughetti or Aviva Endean that have quizzed me about these very issues when they were younger, and whether they used my advice or promptly ignored it, they certainly have embraced a wealth of experiences and created strong identities for themselves. NY saxophonist Ellery Eskelin is one who definitely helped influence my thinking in this regard - about the need to develop one's voice, not just try and be someone else for each gig. But don't be in a rush - make sure you do learn along the way - and continue to do so.

I will just add a note of caution though... play appropriate to the gig, don't impose your ego upon the music, but instead explore how the music can draw the best out of yourself. Each different gig simply offers the opportunity to explore different perspectives of your playing. Slowly this can help you maybe understand the core of what inspires you. Finding myself suddenly knee-deep in the visual arts world a few years ago was extremely daunting, but I slowly understood that the accolades my work was getting came because of my decades of musical experience informing my visual work. At this point, in the same way that playing toys made me feel I was a musician, not just a woodwind player, I was now an artist, not just a musician. I have learnt from various collaborations that artists of different artforms are often dealing with the same concepts, so in a way it made sense but it was still a revelation.

On a more practical note, it is a matter of simply making contacts, building networks, being seen. Going to gigs and listening to people is vital - they may be the gigs you end up doing or the people you end up playing with. Become part of your community, and you will build your community at the same time. Do not be afraid to approach your idols - some people can be difficult, but most of the good ones are not and will happily chat with someone who is genuinely interested in their work. We are all but human.

When you were beginning your journey as a musician and an artist, what do you wish you had known about creating an artistic career?

Going back to being a young kid and thinking I couldn't possibly make a profession as a performing musician, I wish I'd known that there are all kinds of options and possibilities. I am not saying it is easy, but with the right attitude and some flexibility, it is actually more achievable than I had ever thought. I am not famous, but I have played in major festivals here and overseas, I've travelled to numerous countries to play music, and I've performed with some astounding musicians, including some that I listened to on records as a teenager. I am not rich in a financial sense, but I have a wealth of life experience that I never thought possible.

And be patient. Just because you have obtained your university qualification with flying colours, do not expect that to mean anything in the real world! There are already a whole lot of fabulous musicians out there that may be struggling as well! Find your feet, learn about the broader musical community and make connections. With a proactive attitude, a willingness to be flexible and a commitment for the long term, you can get there.

In Conversation: Ensemble Three

Your next performance, Aussie Electric, will feature new Australian works commissioned by Three. Do you find collectively there is a difference in performing new works by living composers to those of the old masters?

We are all committed to performing and commissioning new works. It’s exciting to work with composers on new pieces and to help bring them to life. In most cases, we are involved in some workshopping of ideas with the composer, either in person or by sending scores and audio files. In the process we gain a greater understanding of the composer’s methods and aesthetic while at the same time feeding in some ideas of our own.

As far as we are aware our group is the only one of its kind. Trumpet, trombone and guitar is not an ensemble combination we’ve heard anywhere else, and this makes it an exciting prospect. Most composers are fascinated by the combination and how it might work. The pieces we’ve received are very eclectic and use the ensemble in a variety of ways.

How does your approach change when preparing to perform brand new commissions compared to standard repertoire?

We don’t really perform much standard repertoire! We have done concerts of music from Spain and Latin America, including well-known pieces. In these cases, we’re usually making all the arrangements ourselves so this is quite a different process. Taking a new piece from a commission all the way through to first performances is a rewarding process and often very challenging. One challenge we are negotiating in the current Australian Electric program is working with technology. The first piece, by Fay Wang has a pre-recorded soundscape that the audience hears and also a click we hear in our headphones to ensure we coordinate with the backing track. We need to make sure this is working well and that we are in control of the many changes of sound effects and instrumnetal changes throughout the piece. We now play amplified all the time to enable a consistent balance between the instruments. Loop pedals are also used in a couple of the pieces.

What is your rehearsal process like as an ensemble when preparing for a recital like this?

We are able to take advantage of the facilities at the Melbourne Conservatorium of Music so we rehearse together at work. We’re all full-time lecturers which means we have to schedule performances so they fit in with our teaching responsibilities. Our upcoming concert at the MRC on Feb 23 is just before classes begin for the year. When we tour overseas, it’s usually in the middle of the year during university break.

You are all active musicians and lecturers. How do you balance the different musical areas of your lives?

Balancing different areas of our lives is always a challenge. The key is to have the energy and enthusiasm for the musical task at hand. We are all academics with a strong commitment to music performance and to creating new and interesting possibilities for us as musicians. In fact, as full-time lecturers who come from a full-time performing background, performing is of the utmost importance to us as it informs the way in which we teach and structure our students’ education.

Do you have any advice for small ensembles starting out?

Join forces with players you respect and enjoy working with. Some of the most innovative ensembles on the scene today began as groups of friends in school or in the community who really wanted to make music together – eighth blackbird and Sō Percussion both began at school, Roomful of Teeth formed at a music festival, International Contemporary Ensemble formed as a group of like-minded friends who wanted to perform together. All of these groups have gone on to do amazing things. Your fledgeling group can approach composers to work with and suddenly you have a unique, intriguing endeavour.

Trumpet, trombone, and guitar seems like an eclectic combination of instruments - can you tell us about how Three formed as an ensemble?

We followed our own advice to the previous question, and are really glad we did!

What is your rehearsal process like as an ensemble when preparing for a recital like this?

We are able to take advantage of the facilities at the Melbourne Conservatorium of Music so we rehearse together at work. We’re all full-time lecturers which means we have to schedule performances so they fit in with our teaching responsibilities. Our upcoming concert at the MRC on Feb 23 is just before classes begin for the year. When we tour overseas, it’s usually in the middle of the year during university break.

You are all active musicians and lecturers. How do you balance the different musical areas of your lives?

Balancing different areas of our lives is always a challenge. The key is to have the energy and enthusiasm for the musical task at hand. We are all academics with a strong commitment to music performance and to creating new and interesting possibilities for us as musicians. In fact, as full-time lecturers who come from a full-time performing background, performing is of the utmost importance to us as it informs the way in which we teach and structure our students’ education.

Do you have any advice for small ensembles starting out?

Join forces with players you respect and enjoy working with. Some of the most innovative ensembles on the scene today began as groups of friends in school or in the community who really wanted to make music together – eighth blackbird and Sō Percussion both began at school, Roomful of Teeth formed at a music festival, International Contemporary Ensemble formed as a group of like-minded friends who wanted to perform together. All of these groups have gone on to do amazing things. Your fledgeling group can approach composers to work with and suddenly you have a unique, intriguing endeavour.

Trumpet, trombone, and guitar seems like an eclectic combination of instruments - can you tell us about how Three formed as an ensemble?

We followed our own advice to the previous question, and are really glad we did!

What is your rehearsal process like as an ensemble when preparing for a recital like this?

We are able to take advantage of the facilities at the Melbourne Conservatorium of Music so we rehearse together at work. We’re all full-time lecturers which means we have to schedule performances so they fit in with our teaching responsibilities. Our upcoming concert at the MRC on Feb 23 is just before classes begin for the year. When we tour overseas, it’s usually in the middle of the year during university break.

You are all active musicians and lecturers. How do you balance the different musical areas of your lives?

Balancing different areas of our lives is always a challenge. The key is to have the energy and enthusiasm for the musical task at hand. We are all academics with a strong commitment to music performance and to creating new and interesting possibilities for us as musicians. In fact, as full-time lecturers who come from a full-time performing background, performing is of the utmost importance to us as it informs the way in which we teach and structure our students’ education.

Do you have any advice for small ensembles starting out?

Join forces with players you respect and enjoy working with. Some of the most innovative ensembles on the scene today began as groups of friends in school or in the community who really wanted to make music together – eighth blackbird and Sō Percussion both began at school, Roomful of Teeth formed at a music festival, International Contemporary Ensemble formed as a group of like-minded friends who wanted to perform together. All of these groups have gone on to do amazing things. Your fledgeling group can approach composers to work with and suddenly you have a unique, intriguing endeavour.

Trumpet, trombone, and guitar seems like an eclectic combination of instruments - can you tell us about how Three formed as an ensemble?

We followed our own advice to the previous question, and are really glad we did!

In Conversation: Eighth Blackbird

The Blackbird's cellist, Nicholas Photinos on the business of chamber music.

What is it about new music, and the celebration of living composers, that inspires you personally and as a sextet?

So many things, among them: the joy of creating something new; to be unburdened by past interpretation; and to be free to express music of our time, that often incorporates and is informed by so much of today’s vast musical language and expression.

For young people interested in becoming involved in chamber music, how would you recommend they get started?

For me, nothing is as fun as making music with other people. My earliest experiences took the form of group Suzuki lessons, but when I was only a little bit older, maybe 7-8, this meant playing simple pieces with my Mom or other kids my age. I fear this might be unusual, as I know a number of musicians who didn’t play chamber music until high school - I even went to college with a pianist who hadn’t played chamber music until she got there, which blows my mind. So to get started - first of all, don’t be afraid, no matter what level you are there’s someone else at the same level, though if you’re smart you’ll try to play with people that are better than you so you can learn quicker. And then just go at it - start with simple things, listen to recordings to get an idea of how it goes; you can even practice with recordings before you rehearse with people.

When curating programs, what are you looking for in the compositions you perform, or the composers you commission?

We play works in a number of different styles, and we talk a lot in the group about having a “voice.” It’s not even that something has to be completely “new”-sounding or incorporate some novel sound or technique, but rather that they sound authentically like them, and like no one else, in the language that they use. When curating concerts, we think in terms of balance - what’s a beginning piece? What’s an ending piece? Maybe we don’t want these two pieces on the same program because they sound the same or leave you feeling the same.

Is keeping “classical” music relevant something you are interested in, or is that simply a byproduct of the work you do?

Classical music will always be relevant insofar as it’s about the human experience. It’s like Shakespeare, it’s just waiting for you to crack it open. But it’ll still be there in a hundred years, a thousand years. We do enjoy the relevancy of the classical music being written today in that it can take its influence from any music from any time and especially our own, including pop, rock, jazz, rap, whatever, but that was true of other eras as well: look at Turkish marches in Beethoven’s music. But we’re not striving necessarily to keep it relevant.

This year, you will launch The Blackbird Creative Lab for emerging artists, as part of the ensemble’s educational output. What crucial things do you hope to pass on to the young musicians involved, and all developing performers you work with?

A big part of why we wanted to start our own initiative like this is to impart so many of the things that we didn’t learn when we started out. Some of this is performance-based, like involving memorisation, choreography, stage movement, lighting, and set design. And some of this is production-based, like how to manage project development, budgets, fundraising, contracts, and many other administrative tasks that are so crucial to making our art happen. This is what we hope to develop in the Lab, as well as through lectures and workshops through our residencies at schools.

You work on movement and choreography with young ensembles – why is the way performers move on stage so important for their communication?

Besides the fact that much of what an audience hears is through their eyes, whether they realise it or not, is the fact that so much is communicated between musicians through movement. In coachings, we often say that the music begins from the moment you first walk on stage, and especially from the first cue you give, which sets the entire tone of what you are about to say musically. With more specific movement and choreography, we try to give new tools for the musicians to communicate the music better, which can often be achieved through such simple means as two people that have a melody together to stand next to each other, or for someone that doesn’t play for a while to recede to upstage. This visual communication of the music is the basis for most of our music, and is especially important for new music, when the audience is usually hearing something for the first time: that extra visual aid will help them get so much more out of the piece.

Can you tell us a little bit about how the rehearsal process for a new commission works for Eighth Blackbird? What happens between receiving the piece and putting it on a stage?

Before we rehearse, we study and cue our parts extensively, so that we know who to listen for at any given moment, how to come in after a long pause, and how the piece is going to fit together. When we do begin rehearsal, it is usually slow at first, often with metronome so we can figure out how it sounds together correctly, then we gradually remove that crutch. By this point, hopefully we are gaining a better understanding of the structure and pacing of the piece, and begin to fine-tune build-ups, dynamics, balances, and smaller details that help shape the piece. We then almost always do a “pre-premiere” of the piece, sometimes just inviting a few people into our studio to run the piece and get some feedback. This usually involves the composer.

Being part of an ensemble takes more than just musical skill and theoretical knowledge. What have you learned regarding the business side of running a successful chamber group?

Too many individual skills to list here, but one of the biggest takeaways was don’t reinvent the wheel. Almost everything you can think of that needs to be done has been done by someone, somewhere, and can be retrofitted to suit your situation. Contracts, grant writing, budgets, donor letters, marketing pieces - find people that have done these things and borrow, retool, and deploy this administrative work to fit your project, and save the creativity for the artistic product.

During your Australian tour, you will be performing a brand-new composition by Sydney composer Holly Harrison. Can you share a little about the piece?

Holly’s piece, Lobster Tales and Turtle Soup, takes its title from chapters 9 and 10 of Alice in Wonderland. I think the written directions in the piece say it all - frenetic, wild, mischievous, heavy, even sleazy is written at one point of the piece. The piece has a lot of mean funk and groove, yet doesn’t take itself too seriously either.

Can you share something you wish you’d known when you started Eighth Blackbird?

I’m tempted to say that I wish I’d known that it would all work out in the end, but then would we have worked as hard? Would we have earned it? I think any mistakes we made, we made for good reasons, and we learned more from living that mistake than if we had known about them beforehand.

In Conversation: Bianca Gannon

Tell me about Four Reds in Dark and the multi-sensory experience you’ve created.

Four Reds in Dark is an immersive multi-sensory experience combining sound, light, movement and taste. It features myself and Jeremy Dullard on gamelan, Adam Simmons on woodwinds, Bronwyn Pringle's light installation, and dancer Ade Suharto. This synaesthesia-like experience is a chance for the audience to bathe their senses in colour. Alluding to distinguished artist Mark Rothko’s immersive painting Four Darks in Red, this event transports its audience to a new intense yet meditative realm. Through the power of the gong and the other-worldly resonance of the gamelan, my music fuses with the lingering notes of the specially created and site-specific drink Four Pillars in Red Cocktail. Similarly, Adam, Jeremy and Ade gently penetrate the red haze created by lighting technician Bronwyn. These four artists together become the Four Reds, and will enhance one another in new, enlightening ways.

What is it about creating synaesthesia-like experiences that engages and interests you as an artist?

Everything is connected. Realising these links, however tenuous or intense, really engages me. It's somewhat natural for me to think about music in terms of its relationship to other creative forms, such as visual art and food. I love visual art and food almost as much as I love music, so I'm always thinking of ways to marry the three. Creating a multi-sensory experience, rather than a 'traditional' concert, is equal parts self-indulgent and generous; I want to share and create something special and all-encompassing for the audience to immerse themselves in.

Can you tell us about how you discovered gamelan, and what the process of learning it was like?

I first learned about gamelan through ethnomusicology modules at university. Looking back, what we learned was pretty detached from what I've since experienced in Indonesia but nevertheless I was hooked. Since then, I've continued to listen to gamelan, especially Balinese gamelan, as it combines all the things I love in music: syncopated rhythms, persistent repetition, and meditative and other-worldly tunings and qualities.

While studying at Cardiff University I was aware that there were active gamelans in other parts of Britain, but as it was just such a foreign and intangible culture to me, and for many others in that part of Europe, I hadn't considered that this was something I could become a part of.

Fast forward five years and I had just moved to Dublin, where Central Javanese gamelan has just been set up; they were looking for members so I got stuck in. As a lonely solo pianist, I really enjoyed making music communally. I was also really drawn to the resonance of the instruments and the tuning. These aspects made the simplest of tunes magical. In this gamelan, like many Javanese gamelans, we used a simple notation system with numbers representing pitches, and dots for rests.

After about a year with that gamelan I had the opportunity to study in Bandung, West Java on the Indonesian Arts and Culture Scholarship. This is by no means a straight-up gamelan scholarship, which I only learned once I arrived there. At first, I was disappointed and tried to create as many opportunities as I could to learn gamelan in my free time. But these 3.5 months living in Bandung a deeper understanding of cultural context, which is vital to anyone learning another tradition and something I'll continue to learn for a lifetime. I gained so much invaluable insight into all things not strictly gamelan related, from dance, language and martial arts, to pop music, to social cues, to lifestyle. All of these are things which inform how gamelan is practised and performed. It was one of those situations where, with hindsight, I am now so glad that things hadn't worked out at all how I expected.

I then moved to Melbourne 2.5 years ago which very fortunately has a handful of different gamelans. I joined Gamelan DanAnda, a community gamelan, who play various different Balinese music styles and instruments and ensembles, from Gong Kebyar (flashy, syncopated, modern orchestra) to Gender Wayang (to accompany shadow puppets) and Rindik (soft bamboo instruments and flutes). Led by the tireless Jeremy Dullard, a Balinese music specialist, this is a very dedicated group who rehearse together up to three times a week. Eventually, everyone learns all the instruments and all the parts to our repertoire. This is a really nice way to learn as it helps with learning cues and creating smoother interlocking between parts, which is a huge part of Balinese music, and also improves ensemble playing in general.

Most of our learning is done aurally, through a lot of repetition. As in Bali, you grab a mallet and just try to follow along. If we have a gig coming up and someone needs to learn a part last minute, we use Javanese notation for simpler parts and western notation for those who can read it. We are also very lucky that Jeremy has created isolated parts for us which sound really good and are a very effective and pleasant way to learn parts, even while cooking dinner! All of these things help to memorise the music and to internalise not just one part but how all the parts fit together.

While most of what I know about repertoire comes from Jeremy and Gamelan DanAnda, I learned most about technique and cultural context from the source: study trips to Gamelan Cudamani in Ubud. Performing next to some of the world's best musicians as a total novice in important temple ceremonies giving Ngayah (an egoless musical offering to the gods) is the most beautiful thing I've experienced musically. I strongly recommend the Cudamani Summer Institute in July each year to any musician or dancer of any level seeking immersion into another culture. Emiko Susilo and Dewa Berata at Gamelan Cudamani do it really well!

I've also been trying my hand at gamelan from Cirebon, which is its own unique culture in Java. Michael Ewing, a Cirebon language expert, generously leads Gamelan Putri Asmara - possibly the only Cirebonese Gamelan outside of Indonesia. Here we also learn aurally and we also get to frequently rehearse with dancers, which is such a luxury and a treat to watch. While I'm still very much a beginner at Cirebonese Gamelan, so much background music from my time living in a very active arts centre in Bandung was subconsciously internalised and now helps me to learn Cirebonese Gamelan.

The various gamelan activities have led to my experimentations on mixed Balinese gamelan with loop pedal; this feels like the natural next step in processing the information I've absorbed. The repetitive nature of looping lends itself very well to Indonesian concepts of gong cycles, layering and interlocking parts, so it's helping to consolidate previous knowledge as well as give me a platform to create something new. While I haven't received any formal cultural approval for this project, I feel that Balinese music has always pushed boundaries and is constantly evolving in highly innovative and modern ways while still respecting tradition. This is what I am striving for. However, it is a huge learning curve! I'm completely new to using technology in this way.

You are also a composer, pianist and piano teacher. Can you tell me about how you manage your overarching artistic practice, and how each individual activity inspires the other if you find that to be the case?

Like most freelance musicians I'm somewhat used to over-stretching myself - going from rehearsal to teaching, to other rehearsal, to grant application deadline, to starting a composition, to private practice, to performing, to going to other people's gigs, sometimes all in one day (okay maybe a weekend - but still...!). The variety is great, but not always being able to get stuck into one thing and the lack of downtime is not ideal. Some people do it really well but I don't think it's an easy life to balance. As I'm pretty early-career I tend to say yes to everything and never have a proper weekend, but I definitely crave and need better work-life balance.

I earn my living from teaching, and one of the things I enjoy most about it is making music with my students - sometimes that's playing a notated duet together, but what I love most is improvising with my students. This usually happens in an organic way - they'll be telling me something interesting they did at the weekend or how they've had a bad day at school, and I'll say "what does that sound like" or "let's make some music about that" and we'll start to improvise. The students often have great ideas and I'll give some guidelines to draw on and usually set up an accompaniment on the fly, and together beautiful and interesting and heartfelt music is created. Even if that particular musical material doesn't find its way directly into my compositions or improvisations, I feel that these very creative and expressive moments created together are truly enriching as a musician and as a composer.

In your work as a composer and a pianist, you often focus on free improvisation - can you tell us about improvisation and its importance in being creative in art music?

Improvisation is a relatively new thing for me. For me, it's the biggest release that music brings me but unfortunately it hasn't quite found its way into my compositions yet. My compositions tend to be somewhat rigidly structured and lack the energy of freedom and spontaneity that improvisation tends to embody. It's something I'm working on - making more open compositions and more structured improvisations. So much of making music is about putting in countless hours before getting any tangible results; while the same can be applied to improvisation, there is an aspect of instant gratification with free improvisation and I think that's great. That's why in my students' first piano lesson I always get them to improvise. It's very powerful to create music without over-thinking it - it forces you to be really present and engage with your environment in real time, and helps you to process any musical and non-musical material you've come across both consciously and unconsciously. I also notice that after my students improvise they then automatically interpret their set repertoire with much more passion and expression.

What have you learned from developing and executing your own shows?

I've learned so much from being mentored by Adam Simmons, as part of New Music Network: LAB. He has so generously taught me many things about promotion, balancing budgets, booking venues, musicians, touring etc. etc. that I wish I'd been taught at University but am only just learning now. From the beginning, he has always looked at the bigger picture asking "where do you want to be in ten years" and "so how will you get there". He's encouraged me to have my fingers in many pies - and each one has been rewarding in its own right and had a knock-on effect for this show. Everything is connected.

Adam has shared so many nuggets of wisdom with me always at just the right time. This week's mantra is "focus on what it is and can be, and not what isn't and can't be".

I've also learned that you really can't start early enough. There are endless tasks in curating and producing an experience, and unfortunately that eats into time spent on the music, so the sooner you start the better.

Finally, it's been really beautiful to learn what a supportive community the Melbourne arts scene is. People have really blown me away with their encouragement and help with Four Reds in Dark, so I've learnt that reaching out leads to stronger partnerships and new and vital perspectives.

In Conversation: Vikingur Olafsson

Your debut album with Deutsche Grammophon is in honour of Philip Glass' 80th birthday on January 31st. You've recorded before on your own label Dirrindi Music. Based on these experiences, were there any notable differences in the recording process?

There is something very indy about where I come from, Iceland, and so it was quite natural for me to start my own record label when fresh out of college. I learnt a lot from having full control over everything - and that also means having to do so much work on top of the piano playing. So I very much enjoyed working with Deutsche Grammophon on the release, and probably appreciated their excellent work more as I know that SO many things can go wrong in the process of making an album.

The artistic side of my first DG record - the choice of music, the planning of where to record, on what instrument, with what sound engineer (what kind of sound we were looking for), what repertoire - all of this was mostly in my hands but also in close dialogue with the brilliant Christian Badzura from the A&R at DG. We are very much on the same wavelength and he brought some great insights and ideas.

A year ago, you performed Glass' Etudes with the composer himself, alongside three other pianists. What's it like playing for the composer of the works you're performing? How did you manage the pressure of that performance?

Actually, it's not as difficult as one might think. I guess it varies from composer to composer but my experience from working with living composers has been very good - they are all very open to experimentation and finding new ways to listen to and play the music, and Glass is certainly no exception. In some ways, it can be very freeing for a performer to work with a brilliant living composer, compared to reading a 200-year-old masterpiece of Beethoven's from the printed page. It's easy to get the feeling that the classical scores are a bit set in stone, so to say, that a mezzo forte in Beethoven cannot be altered into a forte for example. However, there is no doubt in my mind that an openness to re-think the music, to be free in it and to always seek new ways of playing it, has been the case with the great composers throughout history. After all, composers like Beethoven, Bach and Mozart were all the leading improvisers of their time.

Your performance programs in the past have included Bach's Das Wohltemperierte Klavier and Chopin's 24 preludes; your Birdsong program featuring Rameau, Ravel, and Messiaen; and your Fleeting Images program which "dances on the borders of the tangible and the intangible, somewhere between seeing and hearing." How do you respond to the idea that minimalism is starkly different from these works - do you approach minimalist pieces differently to other genres, or are there more similarities than at first glance?

When I started to learn the piano etudes of Glass, I saw a lot of repetition on the printed page, and I didn't quite know what to make of them at first. So I began repeating them over and over to memorise them - or internalise them, so to say. And by repeating them I soon realised that there is no such thing as repetition in music, not as long as time continues to move in a forward direction. One cannot step twice into the same river, and we never hear the same music twice, even though the chords look to be the same on the page. And that is, to me, the key when it comes to interpreting and listening to minimalism. We are not treading the same path, but rather travelling in a spiral, always finding new perspectives to look at the same object. I approach this style pianistically much like I would approach Bach or Chopin, aiming for absolute transparency of texture, layered sound and rhythmic vitality, so in that respect it's not that different from the old masters.

You're Artistic Director of Sweden's Vinterfest and the Reykjavik Midsummer Music (which you yourself founded). You've also been involved with many other eclectic projects, such as working with Björk, the classical music television series Útúrdúr (Out-of-tune), and in 2014 playing Scriabin’s Vers la flamme on a floating stage in the middle of Lake Vertigo, with an interruption by a helicopter! How do you balance your time between these projects and practising?

It's a constant battle, but it's a fun battle to fight. I am always trying to tell myself that now I will do fewer things, have more time for myself, etc. Maybe one day I will actually manage to do that, but in the meantime, I consider myself lucky to have so many interesting things happening.

Finally, many of our readers are pianists thinking about their future careers. Do you have any advice for them that you wish you'd had when you were starting out?

Alfred Brendel told me a few years back (when I was worrying that nothing much was happening in my career) that I should be patient as "it takes 15 years to become famous overnight". It had been that way for him. That was very good advice. I think that if one is open and sows good seeds, the time will come when they will all start to bloom simultaneously.

St Georges' Series: Chris Nankervis

I’ve been so fortunate as a pianist to have had some wonderful teachers, mentors and experiences. I’m simply bursting to share some nuggets of advice with you, as well as reinforcing them for myself! I much prefer the number eleven to ten, so here are “11 Invaluable Musical Lessons”.

A better rhythmic acuity will make you a much better musician.

It is surprising to discover how much of a piece of music just falls into place when you can really feel the pulse with every part of your being. Of course being able to feel this consistent pulse takes practise, so work on it daily!

A musical line is played legato by the ear, not the fingers.

At the piano, it is possible to play a legato line WITHOUT using legato fingering! Use the pedal, focus on shaping the musical phrase, and the result can be better than a literal finger legato. I understand if you don’t believe me. But I dare you to try it with octaves!

Never stop searching for the sound you want.

I can recall countless depressing times I felt I was so far from emulating the glowing, resonant sound of my teacher. There are so many complex little combinations of movements that go into producing a particular sound that, naturally, it takes A LOT of experimentation over a period of time. Once I was told to go and put on 15 kilograms to improve my sound at the piano – this is rubbish. Disabilities aside, there is nothing about your body that is hindering you from producing a pleasing sound. It takes perseverance, curiosity and a keen ear. There will be breakthroughs, I promise.

A good interpretation should make complete sense to you.

If a passage seems forced or unnatural because you are trying to do as the score, your teacher, or stylistic convention tells you, there is more interpretative work to do.

There are always better technical solutions.

We know that a good technique requires relaxation of the muscles that are not necessary, but sometimes it takes a psychological “trick” to reveal exactly how few muscles are necessary. Problem solving can help very difficult technical passages become much more manageable. Often something so simple as grouping the phrase in a different way helps dramatically. Sometimes the most counter-intuitive methods are the best. For example, pianists: if two hands are leaping, try letting the hand that has less distance to cover go first!

Injury due to playing your instrument can be totally avoided.

Injury among musicians is very common. However, if playing your instrument is causing injury, you need to change something about the way you are playing in order to avoid it! There is a healthy way to play and, for the sake of your body and longevity of your career, I urge you to seek this out.

If performance nerves are attacking you, go further into the music.

The issue of memory in performance, in particular, is a source of anxiety for performers. If a moment of insecurity catches you during a performance, immerse yourself deeper in the music. If a memory lapse occurs, or a wrong note, move forward like a ship.

Play plenty of chamber music.

Some of my best lessons have been learnt rehearsing and performing chamber music. Provided you don’t hate the other member(s) of your ensemble, it can be endless fun. And relax – memorisation isn’t required.

Play works by living composers.

Playing contemporary works by living composers can be so rewarding for performers, composers and audiences. Less familiar works can be particularly thrilling. These are exciting times; there is a staggering amount of wonderful music that is begging to be heard. And relax – memorisation isn’t required.

Love criticism.

I need to remind myself of this constantly – it’s got to be about the music rather than your ego, so learn to celebrate criticism that isn’t malicious.

It gets better.

The life of a musician is not easy to navigate. You have to be resilient yet vulnerable, systematic yet flexible, confronting yet conforming. As a young musician, of course I deal with feelings of insecurity from time to time. During those particularly challenging times, I make it my mantra: it gets better. We must remain optimistic – so much depends on it.

Backstage Pass: Recording Siegfried by Deborah Humble

There is nothing quite like the excitement and anticipation that an opening night generates.

Backstage is a veritable flurry of activity. Hundreds of instrumentalists warm up their instruments, singers vocalise in dressing rooms and corridors, administrative staff check that everything is ready to run smoothly. Agents and management staff are in town, sponsors and supporters come to give their well wishes and partners and spouses turn up from around the globe to share the evening with their loved ones. It is a unique atmosphere; one that is entirely different from the rehearsal period and one that is integral to the performance process.

So what do you do if your on-stage entrance is three and a half hours after the first notes have been played? Ever since I’ve been singing the role of Erda in Siegfried that question has posed something of a dilemma. Do you come prior to the performance to soak up the excitement and get into the mood of the evening? If you choose to do that how do you spend the next three hours? Waiting around for that length of time can be difficult. In that case, do you skip all the preliminaries and turn up ready at your designated call time? The trouble with that is that it can feel like you have missed an important part of the evening. Here in Hong Kong we are being accommodated very close to the concert hall. I decide to arrive before the concert starts to say hello and ‘toi, toi, toi’ to colleagues and to listen to the opening bars from side stage. Then I go back to the hotel to dress and prepare myself before returning again three hours later.

When I arrive during the second interval everyone has settled into the evening. Orchestral players are receiving professional shoulder massages before they launch into the final act. Boxes of apples, bananas and sandwiches have been laid out should anyone feel like an energy boost, and tea, coffee and bottled water are in abundant supply. A performance of this opera takes over five hours and everyone needs to stay energised and hydrated. The atmosphere is more relaxed now. The performance is going well and the audience seem to be enjoying the presentation.

We repeat the same scenario for a second concert three days later; the break in between performances has given everyone a chance to recover physically and vocally. There is generous applause at the end of both concerts, as well as a sense of understanding of what focus and stamina is required for a presentation of this nature.

Following the final performance there is a celebratory dinner at the Intercontinental Hotel for singers and management and their guests. It is a chance to talk and relax together, eat and drink, and get an idea of what the next days will bring. The live performances are over but now the patching sessions for the recording begin. The recording engineer for Naxos, Philip Rowlands, puts together a schedule that will begin the following afternoon. We will all return to the concert hall over the next few days to sing our parts again, giving the engineers at least a few options for putting together the best possible CD.

When recording and re-recording Philip says he is looking out for 'the same things which might concern a conductor: timing, pacing of the vocal line relative to the orchestra, and then, to a degree, interpretive aspects.’ Pitch is a main concern, and is often, according to Philip, ‘related to the quality of the sound. It is probably of less importance to a conductor whose main concern will be ensemble. As a producer, however, I take more notice of pitch for the simple reason that the recording lasts forever, whereas a concert performance is transitory.’ The recording process is an intricate and complicated one. Singing and playing excerpts from a score, sometimes out of context, can be very difficult. So too can trying to recreate the same tempi, the same conditions and the excitement present in a performance. ‘It is important,’ says Philip, ‘to understand an individual singer’s psychology in order to be effective in getting the results desired. My personal approach is to allow an artist to have their own vision and interpretation and to tread carefully when I feel there may be an aspect of the musical intention which hasn’t been delivered fully of effectively in the performance. Another major vocal concern is fatigue. There’s a physical limit to how much and for how long a singer can give, unlike with instrumentalists. Although, there are limits there too!

'I try to take on board the political and practical circumstances of the situation at any given time. Will I get away with asking for this? Is this the right time to tackle the issue of tempo or will it push the tension, which I sense starting to build, too far? Is it better to now address some technical orchestral issue now in order to give the singer a chance to cogitate and rest? Should I say this section is now covered even though it could be better? Shall I answer that question in such a way that an element of doubt lingers in the hope the singer will want to try it again? Language and diplomacy are important. Last year during the patching sessions for Die Walküre I was asked by the conductor Jaap van Zweden “You mean it’s out of tune?” My response was, “I wouldn’t say it’s out of tune but it’s not quite in tune.” This caused giggles from the orchestra, but that can be a help sometimes.’

At the end of several days of patching Philip has several takes of most of the music to choose from. He will now go away and edit the recording before the Hong Kong Philharmonic Ring operas come out in about ten months. This is quite a herculean feat for such a project and is, as Philip puts it, ‘the direct result of my own eagerness to edit the material and Naxos’ desire to release as soon as possible. Roughly speaking it takes me a day to edit ten minutes of music, maybe less. I expect Siegfried to take around twenty-four days and following that there will be further rounds of editing once the artists have had a chance to listen.’

From the perspective of the artist, it is gratifying to know that something you have created will have longevity. Many sources comment that the recording industry is dying as more and more people choose to download their music and move to digital technology. There is certainly no financial benefit for the artists. Naxos, a dominant player and market leader at the budget end of the recording market pays no fees to the singers and instrumentalists. Thus it is the recording itself that becomes the reward, a small legacy of sorts.

Suddenly, our job here is done. It’s time to pack the suitcases once more. It is always strange to think that in just a few hours this group of artists who have come together to create music from all corners of the globe will be going their separate ways. It’s an odd feeling, the feeling of real melancholy that accompanies the end of a job like this one, but one that I have gotten used to over the years. It helps to know that it’s a feeling that lasts only a few days. The creative cycle of highs and lows, the camaraderie of being part of a great, family-like team one day and of the sometimes crippling loneliness that follows, the travel and the excitement of new places and destinations and the routine of in-between are all parts of being an artist. But if we could have our time again I know of very few artists who would change anything. I wouldn’t, that’s for certain.

Spotlight: APRA AMCOS Art Music Fund

We spoke with composer and APRA AMCOS' Art Music Specialist Cameron Lam about the commissioning grant, writing a great application and being inspired by different artistic disciplines.

What is the APRA AMCOS Art Music Fund? How did it start and what is its purpose?

The Art Music Fund is a commissioning grant drawing from a pool of $100,000 to support Australian and New Zealand composers creating a new work that has a plan in place to secure multiple performances, recordings and/or broadcasts.

The Art Music Fund launched in 2016 and it has been my absolute pleasure to administer it from its inception. I believe in addition to providing important financial support to our composers in a time where funding sources are highly competed over, the fund also moves focus into long-term planning in a genre that often only gets a premiere of a work before it is shelved.

How far along in your composition career do you have to be to apply for this grant and be successful?

I spoke at the Sydney Conservatorium, Melbourne Conservatorium and Monash University last year about APRA AMCOS and the Art Music Fund, and no matter how early students were into their composition career, my advice was always the same:

You. Should. Apply.

There are a few things you’ll need for your Art Music Fund application:

A plan – What do you want to write? What are you going to do with it? How are you going to do that?
Presentation partners – Who have you built relationships with that will help you create and present your work? This could be performers, broadcasters, festival organisers, record labels, publishing companies, artistic directors of ensembles and venues.
Recordings of previous work – We want to hear what you’ve done and understand how you work. If you’ve organised performances and recordings before, tell us about it.
If you don’t have these ready yet, set them as goals for future projects and funding applications.

As a young composer, what are the benefits of receiving support from APRA AMCOS?

The stability of a commission fee cannot be underestimated - having the time to just focus on creation is gold in our industry.

Recognition is another major benefit. We keep an archive of our Art Music Fund recipients and the commissioned work on our website and feature them in articles and promotional materials regarding the Fund. The Australian Music Centre (AMC) also promotes the recipients.

As a bonus, you’ll also have me as a contact point, checking in at regular intervals to see how your work and your planned presentations are progressing.

Beyond the Art Music Fund, APRA AMCOS supports composers in a multitude of ways. As well as collecting royalties on your behalf, we help you build networks and develop skills through events, panels and in conversation sessions.

Our Professional Development Awards (PDAs) are also something young composers should be across. We run these every two years, with cash and prizes up for grabs. Classical composers who have been successful in the past include 2016 Art Music Fund recipient Alexander Garsden (2013), Peter McNamara (2015), Alex Pozniak (2011) and Melody Eötvös (2009). We’ll be calling for PDA applications in March, so keep an eye out!

The Art Music Awards, which we present with the AMC, are usually held in August each year and are another way we recognise outstanding work across the composition, performance, education and presentation of Australian art music. Nominations are open now if you want to put something forward!

If you’re not already a member of APRA AMCOS member but are keen to learn more, visit our website or drop me a line.

Can you tell us about the breadth of the projects funded in 2016?

The 12 composers commissioned in 2016 cover a good amount of art music’s amazing diversity and are a mix of emerging and established talent. The full list of composers and compositions can be found here but some examples include:

Dan Thorpe’s [false cognate] for bass flute and electric guitar/viola to be performed both locally and internationally.
Sandy Evans’ Bridge of Dreams which fuses her jazz-based compositional language with the Indian musical structures of her co-writers to create a large-scale work for solo sax, big band, and Hindustani quartet.
Cat Hope’s new Electric Concerto for theremin and the Decibel ensemble.
Samuel Holloway’s new piano trio to be written for extended presentation by the NZTrio.
Liza Lim’s new large-scale work for Klangforum Wien to be premiered this year in Germany.
If you are lucky enough to be successful in securing funding, what is the process from there?

Lots of emails from me.

Honestly though, there’s a bit of paperwork up front to get the money out to you, then it’s a matter of moving onwards with your proposed plan – writing your work, locking in your proposed performance dates and ticking things off.

I’ll be in contact pretty regularly to make sure everything’s in order. You have up to five years to acquit (depending on your proposed activities), and I’ll be on hand to walk the recipients through that process as well.

As a composer yourself, do you have any tips for young composers hoping to apply this year?

Be brave. Make those phone calls you’re nervous about, ask the questions you need. Talk to the ensembles you love and people you admire, make plans and lock everything in – everyone’s been a young artist before too!
Start now. This is a big application. It requires lots of thought, planning and most importantly other people’s confirmations. Don’t leave this to the last minute.
Read the guidelines. Make sure you’re ticking all the boxes, print off a copy and write all over it - make sure you understand everything!
Secure other funding. As a commissioning grant, the Art Music Fund only covers the costs associated with composing the work. Ensure the other costs in your plan are covered by other grants or funding sources.
Maximise your return. The crux of the Art Music Fund is getting as much as you can out of creating a new musical work. Are you recording your piece? What more can you do with that recording? Who else could play this work?
Proof your work. Make sure you haven’t missed sections. Spell check and get someone else to read it. Are your dates correct? Does your budget add up?
Email me. Confused about something? Shoot me a line at clam@apra.com.au. That’s what I’m here for!
In your personal practice, you often collaborate with artists outside the musical form. What have you learnt about art music from collaborating with different mediums?

There are a million ways to approach any problem. When you boil it right down, a visual artist, choreographer, a filmmaker and a composer have same job: Make something new.

It is incredibly inspiring to see how an individual artist tackles a problem within their field and the innate biases of their particular medium – especially when you can empathise with how difficult the creative process is.

I’d like to think this gives me a greater appreciation for the depth and diversity of art music and its composers/sound artists. Much like differing mediums, seeing people draw from classical, jazz or electronic art practices creates incredibly unique and powerful music - which we’re very proud to be supporting.

When you were starting out on your composition journey, what do you wish you’d known about funding and money-making from your art?

Make the most of what you get, and what you make: Utilise what you have (performances, recording, capital and time) to try and push yourself forward. Build a body of work to showcase and present yourself.
Meet people and have interesting conversations: At gigs you love, projects you work on or run, or industry events – the people you ‘click’ with will be your network, the people who support you and can help you.
Most of all, keep trying: Funding is highly competitive and victories in that field are hard-won and to be celebrated. But not getting funding isn’t the end, and doesn’t mean your project isn’t good – use the conversations you’ve had to build your relationships, revise and critique your application to improve, and re-apply.

In Conversation: Lotte Betts-Dean

You’re currently working with Rubiks, who are well-known and well-loved for their innovative and engaging programming. You have experience performing a diverse range of music, from early music and oratorio to opera and non-classical. What draws you in particular to contemporary art music?

Contemporary art music has always been a big part of my life - growing up with a composer father meant it was part of my upbringing, and I have always felt comfortable with that kind of music, and those sort of sounds. I was also part of the Gondwana Choirs as a kid, who often commissioned Australian composers, so I guess I came to it at a really young age, and have felt at home there ever since. It is one of my absolute favourite areas of perfomance now! I think people often feel put off by "new music" because it feels foreign compared to the other things you hear in concert halls - classical, romantic music. As a listener, it might be a totally different sound world, but by approaching contemporary classical music as a performer I can see all the parallels between it and all other forms of music. Like improvisation, which is a huge part of new music - there are clear ties with Baroque performance practice, so it isn't actually as far removed from "classical" music as we might initially think. There's just not a huge distinction for me. There's also something really refreshing about performing a new commission, because there's nothing to compare yourself to, no performer to try and emulate. When you're working on something that hasn't been heard before you have the opportunity to leave your mark on something brand new, and all the artistic choices about interpretation and characterisation are up to you. You get to be at the forefront and make the piece what it is.

What is the process of putting together a new work like? Are there differences between how you would prepare for a commissioned work and, for example, a role in an opera?

It's actually really similar, perhaps more so than one might think, especially in a program like this one. Rubiks' program for tomorrow's concert Second Self is incredibly dramatic and theatrical, playing on ideas of identity and understanding oneself. Because of these thematic ideas, the music is really dramatic, almost operatic, and I can approach it artistically in that way. Obviously it's a concert setting, so rather than portraying the character operatically and dramatizing it on stage, it's more intimate and there is space to explore things more in-depth musically. We'll be performing a work by Jacob TV, which involves large sections of interviews with Marilyn Monroe, where I lipsync along with her. It's a lot like being an actor in a play! In terms of process, it's different for each new piece I might come across. It's always helpful to discuss it with the composer and librettist, and of course with the other performers, to see how each musician is wanting to approach it. Then, vocally, it's a matter of experimenting with the material to see what techniques might be most appropriate for the work in question.

You perform around the world, but reside predominantly in London now, where you perform often. Can you tell me a little about being a performing internationally, and about the differences you've noticed in contemporary music between London and Melbourne?

I'm based in London, so a lot of my performances happen there, but it's so fantastic to come back to Melbourne and be able to do my own thing, and put on a recital of music that I'm interested in. In terms of contemporary classical music, London has a bigger scene, but it's a bigger city with a larger population. I don't think there's much of a difference in appetite for new music in London than in Melbourne. Having moved away from Melbourne, it's become clear how incredibly vibrant and exciting the culture is here, and how much is happening and developing. I think there are fantastic things occuring in Melbourne, especially to do with repertoire choices and programming across the board - there's lots of things bordering on being non-classical, which absolutely opens up the accessibility of not only contemporary art music specifically, but classical music overall. This repertoire includes so many sounds from other genres, from electronic to rock and pop, and it's bridging the gap between two soundworlds. I hope this brings in more young people and introduces new audiences to diverse composers, both new and old. In London, I sing with Ensemble x.y, who I approached to join after hearing a fantastic concert, where they performed David Bird's 'Series imposture', which Rubik's will actually be playing tomorrow as an Australian premiere.

As a vocalist, what does performing in several different genres mean for your voice? Do you have to approach works differently depending on techniques?

There are slight differences in technique between the different genres, and I get a real kick out of that challenge, to flip between styles. I've really been able to explore the limits of the voice, and that's something you can't play with as much if you are only singing in only one way. I personally enjoy exploring different styles as part of my performative experience, not only because I think it stretches me a performer, but also helps grow the voice. Sometimes people don't realize how flexible and versatile the voice can be if you are singing with good technique. Of course, things can go wrong, and you need to know your instrument and its limits well- but good singing is good singing across all genres. There is a common misconception that one can mistreat your voice in order to perform contemporary music, but that's not the case at all - if you are singing well, keeping things in check, and warming up and down properly, there is a lot of freedom in what you can do with the voice. I really believe that performing in different styles helps keep the voice alive and fresh and flexible, and for me, it's part of maintaining a vibrant and varied practice.

From your experience so far, what skills outside of technical proficiency and stage presence do young singers need to develop to succeed?

Language is really important for singers, and it's imperative to be as proficient as possible in as many languages as you can. French and German and Italian are crucial for singers, and you absolutely need the basics at the minimum as a foundation. Even if you can't hold a conversation, if you get an ear for listening to other languages and mimicking the sounds, you'll be less afraid of trying a song in Swedish, because you can make good estimations of how things will sound. People will notice a willingness to throw yourself into the unknown as well. I'd also like to stress musicianship. It's often overlooked, which is surprising because it's so necessary. It's really left up to the singer, so you have to take it upon yourself to learn to sight read and understand complex rhythms. Once you're across this, nothing is not an option. I think you have to equip yourself with the skills that mean everything becomes a possibility. Also I think right now you have to become proficient in marketing and social media. That is a product of the time we live in, but I can't see it changing anytime soon. If you want to sell tickets to your concerts, you need to be able to market yourself in an attractive way to get people interested. That's crucial for all young musicians. You also have to employ a lot of courage to break boundaries and step outside of your comfort zone. In this day and age versatility is really crucial, so you have to have the guts to give things a go, and keep trying.

You are often putting on performances of your own volition - can you tell us a little about how this works, and if you have any advice for young musicians hoping to do the same?

People take for granted the connections that are forged when you perform with other people. It really is the easiest way to make things happen. If you take the time and chat with people as you go, it's amazing the things you might find you have in common that you didn't know before. You might find someone with the exact same recital idea, which will turn into an amazing concert. Nourish those connections and that network, because it will be fundamental for developing your own platform. Personally, I am still performing with people that I met in my first year at university! I competed in the National Liederfest in my first two years of undergraduate study, and got to know Ian Lowe who runs the program who has helped me set up several recitals in Melbourne since. It's also really important to be open about what you would like to achieve, and what your ideas are, because nothing is impossible and if you are upfront with people, they will be more willing to help see through your idea. There is a lot of support out there, but it's up to you to seek it out.

In Conversation: Erica Bramham

You're embarking on something you term The Song-Chain Project, where you compose, record, and share a new piece of music every day for a whole year. Tell us about the genesis of the project - how did you form the idea?

The original idea came from a New York-based musician, Emily Hope Price. She’s a cellist, vocalist and composer, and completed her own song-a-day project called the 365 Project, which I found really inspiring. I had been thinking about the issues I was facing in my own creative practice, and this paragraph in her preamble to the project did a pretty good job of selling the idea to me:

“I’m incredibly excited with what the project has already done for me: a realization that I can create anything. With so many days and opportunities to create something new, how can I possibly hesitate or over-edit? And I suppose that’s what I want to teach myself: there are no limits and sometimes you just have to let things be what they’re going to be.”

The other side to the idea was giving people a reason to engage with my music, which is an awkward hybrid of jazz, folk and experimental music. I released an album last year, and that really opened my eyes to the challenges of trying to market music that doesn’t fit nicely into one box. So instead of trying again with a second album, this project seemed to fit better with the way we are engaging with music and content in our current social-media-dominated environment.

How is this project different from, or similar to, what you normally do as a professional musician?

I am a freelancer, so my career as a musician is made up of a few different arms. The bulk of my income comes from teaching and performing at weddings and other corporate and private functions, but because I don’t really derive an income from writing and performing my own music it can often take a back seat. This project is a way of forcing me to find time for my own music, and the skills I’m gaining by stretching myself with each composition will feed back into my teaching and professional performance work.

A key feature of The Song-Chain Project is that each song follows on from the next, by beginning with an element of the previous song (maybe a theme, texture, rhythm, lyrical idea...). How has this helped you address those issues all musicians face in their own creative practice, like creative blocks, motivation, and self-criticism?

One thing I have always found difficult in my own practice is getting started. I can procrastinate for hours, days or even months before finally sitting down to work, but whenever I do sit down I enjoy myself and wish I’d started sooner. The periods of procrastination are usually made worse by feelings of guilt for not working, and are often brought on by not knowing where to start or being overwhelmed with possibilities.

This guideline I’ve set myself for the Song-Chain Project addresses getting started, although once I do start working creative blocks and excessive self-criticism are still an issue. I’ve found the longer I can keep my personal judgement out of the process the better, and using composition or lyric-writing exercises to work with the starting material really helps. It’s much easier when you are approaching the work from a problem-solving perspective, as your mind is focused on how you can use the available materials, rather than whether what you're making is any good.

You're a composer and performer, and this project is obviously going to take up a lot of your time for the next 12 months! In terms of time management, how do you balance the needs of your professional musician life while still maintaining a good work-life balance?

Life as a freelancer is one of peaks and lulls in terms of workload, which is something I’m still getting used to. I’m just coming out of a quiet period, thanks to the summer school holidays, and that has left me plenty of time for this project. I have no idea yet how I’m going to cope once I’m back to my full teaching load, and I’m honestly quite nervous. The time I have each day to devote to this project is going to fluctuate, and so far the best way I’ve found of managing it is just to work with whatever time I have available, and give myself permission to create something small, simple or half-finished on the days when I only have an hour or two to spare.

In terms of work-life balance, I am doing my best to keep this project on the “life” side of that equation. I first thought that if I could get each song done in the morning it would leave me free and unburdened for the rest of the day, but that mindset was making me treat the songs like an unpleasant chore to get out of the way as quickly as possible. I felt guilty on the days that I didn’t get it done first thing, and those feelings made me more reluctant to sit down and get started later in the day. I honestly enjoy the composition process, so I’m trying actively create a mindset where I can sit down to work whenever I feel like working and for as long as I feel like working, and whatever comes out in that time is enough for the day.

You've been doing this project for almost a month. What have you learnt so far - about the project, and about you yourself?

I have been pleasantly surprised by the response to the project from people who have told me it is inspiring them in their own work, or helping them think about the issues they face in their own creative practice. One friend suggested that I had created a little community around the project that he could plug into when he wanted, and I thought that was a really nice way of thinking about it. There is a tendency for artists to hide the dirty or difficult side of our work, and I’d love to open up more discussions about that side of our practice though this project.

So far I’ve discovered that the most difficult aspect of this project is not the composition, but the recording and sharing aspects. The time it takes to record, edit and upload each video, and then share it across my social media platforms is often just as long as, or longer than, the time taken to compose the piece of music. I am also having to be quite careful about how much of myself I invest in social media. Sharing each day’s work on social media keeps me accountable to an audience, but I have started turning off my phone for a few hours after I post each new song so that I don’t get caught up in what kind of reaction it gets.

You studied at the Victorian College of the Arts. How did your studies help you (or hinder you!) in getting to where you are now?

I came to music study relatively late in life; I was 28 when I started my undergraduate degree. Before that I had been writing and performing mostly solo, but I had a lot of frustrating holes in my music theory and technical knowledge, and was terrified of performing with other musicians. I went into the VCA hoping for a solid block of time to devote to practice, and to gain experience playing with other musicians. My original intention was to return to my previous career as a web developer once I’d finished study, but I quickly discovered that I enjoyed music much more than web development. Being an older student I was particularly aware of the need for an income once I graduated, and so as well as studying I spent the three years of my degree laying the groundwork for a career as a freelance musician.

The biggest thing I took away from the VCA was a huge shift in my creative mindset, which I am really grateful for. I went in with a very narrow idea about the kind of music I liked, and the kind of music I wanted to create, and came out far more open. There is quite a strong focus on free improvisation in the jazz course at the VCA, and I discovered this was something I really loved and it has become a large part of my practice.

Finally, many of our readers are starting out on their professional music careers, or thinking about what those careers are going to entail. What advice do you wish you'd been given when you were younger - or what would you give to your younger self if you had the chance?

I am probably not much farther along in my own career than many of your readers, so I am still wrestling with many of the same questions. One piece of advice I wish I’d been given when I started studying was that I was already good enough, that I already had something unique and interesting to offer, and that study was a chance to build upon those foundations. It’s so easy to fall into self-destructive behaviours, comparing yourself unfavourably to your peers and musical idols, or to the picture of success presented by your institution or industry. I think a lot of musicians (myself included) spend too much time trying to become the kind of musician we think others want us to be, rather than figuring out the kind of musician we want to be and working towards that goal instead. I know now that I’m not going to be the next world-class improvising jazz vocalist, but I’m OK with that because I’ve worked out what is important to me about the music I make and that list of features has led me down another path.

2017: A Landmark Anniversary for West Australian Opera

Thoughts on the fiftieth anniversary of WAO from Artistic Director, Brad Cohen.

In 2017 West Australian Opera celebrates our fiftieth anniversary year. We are the only opera company in Australia who continue to perform under the same name, in the same theatre, with the same mission, since our founding. And that mission is to serve the people of Western Australia with opera of the highest standard.

In our history, these are the elements which have persisted. But around and within us, a lot has changed. What opera even means is being questioned in a way which would have seemed incomprehensible to management and audiences in 1967. Our first company production was Carmen, which in many ways is the ultimate “operah". Or is it? Might it not be a great forerunner of the musical? Every single number is a hit, there is dancing and influences from “low” musical genres like the Habanera, there is speaking between musical numbers - so it sounds to me much more like a musical than an opera.

What “opera” means is constantly up for re-definition. Since Monteverdi, opera has been an ongoing experiment, in seeing how many foreign bodies and styles it is capable of assimilating. And it seems that there is no upper limit to just how much it can absorb. The idea of opera is like a virus - it changes shape and definition with each passing generation. One irony in the current perception of opera is that it is often lambasted for being hidebound, “high” art, irrelevant. In some ways it has been taken hostage by established values of status, consumption and extravagance. But throughout its history - expressed in manifestos and operas by Gluck, Wagner, Berlioz, Britten, and other composers - it’s been the subject of intense cultural conflict, the site of its own culture wars. One of the challenges of my job as an Artistic Director is to balance two roles - that of custodian and that of reformer, honouring this long tradition of renewal from within. Opera is in a state of constantly shifting balance, and in the current environment, where the National Opera Review has been published, it’s a great time to look afresh at what opera offers our Australian culture.

I advocate three strands for this offering. I believe that we should nurture Australian artists, whether singers, directors or conductors, in a long-term sustainable perspective on their careers. We can do this through promoting Australian productions (as in Tosca and our new Opera Conference Merry Widow this year); casting Australian and local artists (in 2017 at WAO we have not one international imported artist); and most fundamentally, telling stories about who we are as Australians through new work. Last year we revived Ian Grandage’s The Riders, and although 2017 is a year for celebrating our custodianship of the core repertoire, we have new pieces in the works for 2018 and beyond.

I cut my teeth as a performer with new opera, at the Almeida opera festival in London in the early 1990s, where I conducted the premiere of Powder her Face, as well as new operas from China, America, and South Africa. And this involvement in new music continues to inform my work on the ‘standard’ repertoire, which I love equally. But let’s not forget - all repertoire was once new! And this is the lesson I learned working with new music - there is no hard and fast distinction between traditional and new music. Tradition should sometimes be exploded with new perspectives, newness can have its influences drawn out through interpretation. Each connects with the other in a ceaseless dialogue. And it’s this dialogue I want to celebrate in 2017 with West Australian Opera, in our anniversary year. We celebrate opera as an artform which starts from the simplest proposition - the human voice singing stories - and which proliferates into some of the wildest, most intense corners of human emotion. As opera practitioners we’re part of a dynamic tradition, not just in a museum. My mission is to carry on the experiment, to refract our contemporary sensibility and Australian-ness through the rich store of operas both new and old.

2Backstage Pass: Performing Siegfried by Deborah Humble

There are more surtitles used in Act 1 of Siegfried than in an entire performance of Tosca.

This statement, delivered during one of the Wagner symposiums here in Hong Kong, makes it absolutely clear to us performers as well as the potential audience, just how much music there is to get through during the few days allocated to orchestral rehearsals. It is an amazing statement when you stop and think about it. Nonetheless, there is no sense of panic regarding the task ahead, only a sense of what must be achieved and the realisation that the next few days will be long ones. Thankfully it is a team effort and there are particular structures in place to make sure everything runs smoothly.

Maestro van Zweden leads the way. He is supported by two assistant conductors who continually provide feedback to the singers regarding rhythmic details, language corrections, tuning and balance. They give the conductor suggestions regarding the orchestra’s playing: the motive in the horn could be louder in that bar, the woodwinds need to come down in this bar, have you considered a different string sound for that section? Together with the recording engineers from Naxos who are also making copious notes in huge photocopied scores, they listen very carefully to the overall balance from different areas in the auditorium. Microphones are placed correctly for the singers at the front of the stage and music stands are strategically positioned.

Volker Krafft, language coach and assistant conductor, says the most interesting part of the project is “working with an orchestra which has never played the Ring Cycle before. It’s a big challenge for me to help Jaap van Zweden create the specific Wagnerian sound language he requires from the players, and to make a concert and symphonic orchestra turn into an opera orchestra.” The Maestro himself concurs and tells us that no matter what the orchestra perform and play in the 12 months between the Wagner operas, they must recreate the same sound world as they did previously. It’s no easy feat when there are so many guest instrumentalists (mostly from Europe) augmenting the orchestra’s regular numbers.

The Wagnerian orchestra, normally housed in a theatre pit, is positioned on stage for these performances. No matter how many times I am involved with Wagner’s music, there is always a moment of complete astonishment when I see the massive instrumental forces together in one space. The stage is completely utilised. “No room for a big frock in this show,” quips one string player as I walk between them to take my place next to the conductor. And he’s right. There is barely space between the instruments to enter and exit the stage. I am sure I am not the only singer who has wondered how, when set against such amassed power, the human voice could possibly prevail. And yet it does. The orchestral music is composed in such a way that is both soloist and accompanist. One of the great misconceptions I have encountered in developing singers is that one must always sing Wagner ‘forte.’ There are passages of great tenderness and beauty in Wagner and, whilst a singer must have a certain kind of voice to tackle his music, one must learn where to conserve energy and vocal strength when taking on the big roles.

Performances of opera in concert almost always lead to some kind of debate about whether it is a successful and engaging experience or not. Some operas seem to lend themselves to this format better than others, and the sheer length of Siegfried and the fact that we are performing with scores and without any specific direction or interaction with other characters makes me slightly nervous. Will we be able to hold the audience’s attention for over five hours? Here in Hong Kong the local audience will never have seen or heard this music live. To help them follow the story a synopsis will be projected alongside the surtitles in both Cantonese and English. Over the course of the orchestral rehearsals I can see the concert ‘communication’ between the singers develop instinctively; a look here, a gesture there. Each character lends itself more or less to ‘acting.’

Regarding the delivery of ‘Erda’ I decide that that the drama is present in the stillness of the score, that ‘doing’ less is best. When Wotan first wakens the Earth Mother, Wagner instils the musical moment with great weight and ponderousness, showing the character’s reluctance and confusion with sustained and heavy chords. With Wagner the ‘direction’ is often inherent in the score; there is drama in the tempo, drama in the language, drama in the orchestration. As a singer, it has taken me some time to understand and be comfortable with the power of stillness in the delivery of this role.

No matter the extent to which a singer decides to ‘act’ his character, there is a different feeling when you perform with an orchestra right there with you on the stage. You have the feeling of being surrounded and supported by sound and of very much being part of the musical whole. Without costumes, lighting and dramatic restrictions it is possible to notice things in the musical texture that you might not notice in an on-stage production. The singer can focus completely on the act of ‘singing’ and putting relevant emotion into the delivery and poetry of the text. As I am rehearsing the beginning of Act Three I am reminded just how powerful this music is. The orchestra in full force and the brass section playing at capacity literally make the stage vibrate beneath my feet. It’s very exciting and I can’t help but turn around in order to take in all that is going on behind me. The conductor smiles in my direction and I know we are thinking the same thing; it’s a lovely moment of musical connection and there is a great feeling of musical empathy and synchronisation when the person leading the proceedings is just centimetres away.

At the end of each day of orchestral rehearsal, the musical staff have a meeting and prepare the next day’s schedule which is sent to each singer by e-mail. It’s a slightly disjointed process; we are not rehearsing the opera in sequence and, because of the amount of music to get through, there is no formal Sitzprobe (orchestral run through) before the first performance. Soprano Heidi Melton arrives from her previous engagement with only one day to rehearse the scene between Brunnhilde and Siegfried, sung by New Zealand tenor Simon O’Neill. At the top of the profession, performance commitments and travel logistics very often dictate rehearsal programming. Raff Wilson, Director of Artistic Planning, says “it’s been a privilege working on casting these parts. The big roles like Wotan, Siegfried and Brunnhilde are titanic. There are only a handful of people in the world who can sing them. These are roles that singers tend to ‘grow into,’ and which they often also ration out in their singing schedule. So getting the right singer at the right time is a matter of both skill and luck. The challenge of bringing the right forces together at the right time mean that our whole organisation has been working on these performances for years.”

The planning seems to have paid off in this instance. The cast of international singers is a particularly fine one. With the last notes of Act Three dying away on the final day of orchestral rehearsals, there is a moment of tangible silence before the maestro puts down his baton. It is a moment of tacit acknowledgement of everything that has been achieved and a moment of anticipation of the performances to come. The ground work has been done.

Singers and musicians now have a day off before the opening night. Each artist will have a different routine; some will do nothing but rest, avoiding speaking and socialising, others will carry on as normal. However one chooses to spend the time, it is imperative to stay vocally and physically healthy. Hong Kong is often clouded in smog, and, if we can believe what we read in the papers while we are here, the amount of pollution blowing down from China over the city makes it one of the most hazardous and toxic periods for years. The many people wearing masks in the street to avoid inhaling the pollution and stop the spread of disease is sometimes an unnerving sight. Warning signs in the concert hall dressing rooms alert artists to Avian Bird Flu and other illnesses and how best to avoid them. The buttons in the elevators backstage are disinfected every hour. A further challenge is living in a hotel room for over three weeks where the windows can’t be opened. It is a completely air-conditioned environment, totally devoid of fresh air, which can be very dehydrating.

These challenges aside, everyone arrives fit and healthy for the first performance. There’s an air of expectation and excitement about. The preparation is about to pay off.

In Conversation: Fiona Campbell

Having studied in Perth, and performed with the West Australian Opera a number of times during your career, what does being part of their 50th-anniversary gala concert mean to you?

WAO has always been a part of my performing life. Even when I didn't live in Perth, they would fly me back from London. I was a young artist with the company over 20 years ago and my first professional gig was at Opera in the Park in front of twenty thousand people. So it seems like the perfect fit, we've really had an enduring relationship over the years and I am thrilled to be a part of it and help them celebrate this impressive milestone.

This performance is a celebration of opera favourites and the life span of the WAO up to this point. What is a favourite memory of working with the company?

So many great memories with this company! But one of my favourite roles for them would have to be playing Cherubino in Neil Armfield’s production of Marriage of Figaro (photo above from this production). It was the perfect combination of a well-balanced cast both vocally, dramatically and musically which made magic on stage and has continued to be an endearing winner in the eyes of the audience.

You have experience not only as an esteemed recitalist and performer but also as a radio presenter. What initially drew you to the radio?

It is such an excellent medium to connect with people authentically and intimately. Most people are listening on their own, not in a group, so it really becomes a one to one connection over the airwaves. People get to know me off stage and it is a powerful way of drawing the public into this world of music and performance, uncovering some of the mystery and making them feel comfortable with the art form, not intimidated by it.

You are passionate about music education - tell us about the improvements you would like to see made to the way music is taught and spoken about in the media, particularly in relation to opera.

We are all musical beings, we are all born with a voice and singing it is the most natural thing in the world. Music is a fundamental part of being human. Therefore yes, I believe and know from experience and through the work I am doing in disadvantaged schools, that music should be a core subject. The science comprehensively supports what musicians already know; music is good for you, it makes you feel good, it improves cognitive ability. Opera is a magnificent extension of something completely natural and is something to be thrilled and delighted by. Similarly, kicking a ball around the oval as a kid, can over time, develop into being a professional soccer player. Not everyone is capable of being a professional, but we can all admire and aspire to the brilliance that is displayed during a performance, on stage or on the field. My blue sky vision for Australia would be that every child sings a song every day, a new one every week. In this way, over time, opera would be seen and celebrated in the media for the marvel that it is.

What is your process for learning music when preparing for an opera, especially when you spend so much time on the road performing across the country?

Time management is the key! I look at my diary across the year and work out when I have to start preparing and practicing for any given performance. I can have half a dozen projects on the go at any one time. If it is repertoire that I know and have performed often, the muscle memory allows me to revise and polish up to performance standard reasonably quickly. If it’s a new work, then it will take much longer, both learning the dots and preparing properly.

For young singers hoping to get started in the opera industry, what skills outside of technical proficiency do you recommend cultivating?

Being professional, personable and innovative in your approach to the industry at all times.

What recordings couldn’t you live without (classical or otherwise)?

Ella Fitzgerald sings the Cole Porter songbook and Bach’s St Matthew Passion directed by Nikolaus Harnoncourt plus Mozart’s Marriage of Figaro with Sir Simon Rattle, oh! and the Bach Cello Suites, Beethoven late string quartets and his Violin Concerto…and Ravel string quartet No.1… Sade, Madeleine Peyroux, Renee Flemming and, and and….

When you’re not on stage or preparing music, what do you love to do?

I love spending time with family and friends, eating fabulous food, watching movies, bush walking, reading, boogie boarding and surfing, although I don’t seem to do that often enough these days! Enjoying life basically and appreciating every moment.

In Conversation: MSO's Cybec Composers

On the day before the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra’s Cybec 21st Century Australian Composers Concert, Megan Steller sat down with this year’s featured composers Ade, Cassie, Connor, and Stephen at Blondie in Melbourne’s Southbank for a coffee and a chat. Over an hour, they talked commissioning, getting started as a composer, making your own opportunities and working with the MSO. Find out how to hear the rest of the conversation at the bottom of the page.

Megan Steller: So you have just two rehearsals in this process? Is that stressful, or is that part of what it’s like?

Ade Vincent: It’s a bit stressful but we knew that was the case.

MS: All these little issues like typesetting, I guess you just need to be all over before you go in.

AV: That’s it, we have half an hour each, per piece, and it’ll be the same tomorrow, so you don’t want to be spending any of your rehearsal time on little things like that.

Connor d’Netto: But I guess in terms of typesetting and things like that, we had a good proofreading from Alastair McKean, the librarian for MSO - we sent him drafts months ago and he tore them apart, and there were pages and pages of things to fix up, so that was useful.

AV: That was very useful - how many pages did you get?

Cassie To: He was like ‘there’s not many!’ and the document had like, four pages.

CdN: It’s okay! I think we all got that!

CT: I had just finished all the parts, and the next day he sends me “good job!” and I had all these changes.

CdN: I was doing the parts the day I got back from London.

MS: When did this process start - when did you get accepted and then have to submit your work?

CT: Around April or May?

MS: So the pieces that you have written, are they works that you began prior to being accepted into this program, or were they written quite specifically?

CdN: They were written pretty specifically. My piece is called Singular Movement and it’s exploring setting each of the parts of the orchestra in its own musical trajectory and evolution It’s not extra-musical in any way, it’s more like one part is going from the foreground to the background, and one other part is going from long sustained drones to smaller and smaller rhythmic values across the section of the piece. One goes from structured to textured and ephemeral and then having all these different layers across each other which slowly progress throughout the piece. There are no big sudden changes, but throughout the way the musical ideas develop across the piece, there’s a lot of variation in musical language.

MS: How did you get to the piece you have now? Did the idea come to you suddenly, or was it more of a process?

CdN: It kind of just worked out that way! I didn’t go into the piece with any specific aims, the only kind of aim I had, which didn’t end up happening at all, was that I wanted to write a piece that was a bit more dark and broody. My recent writing has been a bit more meditative and minimal, so it was a challenge, and that didn’t happen. I came up with a structure of a piece that I liked, and it so happened to be this and I stuck with it and that’s it.

AV: Mine’s called The Secret Motion of Things which I took the title from the Francis Bacon novel, New Atlantis, and it’s exploring my fascination with artificial intelligence. It’s heavily programmatic: we stand on the edge of building AI, and we don’t know what will happen. It’s such a great unknown and the consequences are so potentially vast - that whole area fascinates me. So, I tried to write something that starts with an air of mystery and then develops a sense of urgency and relentless momentum. I tried to make it stylistically a little bit more avant-garde, maybe not avant-garde - a lot of the music I write is pop and electronic music, so in a totally different sphere to this kind of things. I thought right, this is only my second orchestral piece, so for the context, I would write something that was quite different to what I usually do. I pushed it a bit more towards an orchestral new music kind of sound, and it hasn’t really ended up over there, it ended up sounding like my music with a little bit of that kind of flavour.

CT: My piece is called The Reef, and basically it’s about the demise of the Great Barrier Reef. So something I’m quite interested in is environmental issues and conservation, so I’ve been trying to put that into my music. This is the second time I’ve done it, so basically, the idea is the piece starts with how the reef was - colourful and vibrant, and as the piece progresses it goes to where the reef is now - dark, it’s dying, it’s eerie when you’re underwater, things are dead. And then it ends with an urgency to do something about it!

Stephen de Fillipo: My piece is called Static Anxiety, and it sort of came about through interacting with my mentor - we get given a mentor through this process, so it came through extensive discussion with him about the kind of music I enjoy writing, and focusses on a lot of sporadic intensity, before falling back into smoother more languid lines. So it’s about this interaction before moving into something more delicate. Not necessarily in a pretty way.

MS: When you’re composing a work like this, it seems like you often start with an idea that ends up being deviated away from as the writing process happens. As composers, how do you manage your expectations in that sense? Does it feel okay to move away from the initial idea?

AV: I think it really depends on what the end goal is. Here, you have the luxury of being able to follow your nose stylistically, and we all started with a preconceived idea of what the piece would look like. I know Cassie and I write to briefs a lot of the time doing commercial writing , so you don’t have much room to move there - you have to hit the brief - but with something like this we’re writing to a brief that’s self-imposed, so you have freedom to change that brief, and I’m sure that happened to all of us. Mine’s changed quite significantly throughout the writing process, but we have the luxury of being able to do that. Is that what you found?

SdF: I do a lot of performance as well and have close collaboration with the people I’m singing with or writing for, but with this, it's completely the opposite because I’m in a different state and I can’t physically communicate with the people who are going to play my piece. So, in that sense, it’s a process of writing that doesn’t really have a face. Which is a bit hard at first, but it’s coming from a totally different idea. Instead of writing a piece that represents the relationship I have with the individual musician, my piece focusses more on the relationship I have with the person I’m working with, so it’s a solidification of the ideas I was talking to him about rather than the actual musicians. So now I’m in a process where I’ve had one listen to the piece run through and some things work and some things didn’t. Now I’m cutting back and working out what the players are comfortable with, and then working from there.

CdN: I guess for me it really depends on what you’re writing the piece for. As you said, there’s a difference between writing art music and commercial music. For me, I approached this as a straight commission with an open brief and I had the ensemble, the time limit and that’s about it. I had the freedom to change as much as I liked, and in a way, I planned the piece and its structure, and basically stayed within it, but the kind of idea of the piece evolved. In a lot of other projects I do, if I’m writing for a specific context, like maybe the program or the way it’s going to be performed - which happens in the concerts I organise (Connor runs the Brisbane- based concert series, Argo) where there is a specific place in a program my piece needs to fill - then even though there is freedom, there is not as much flexibility. I don’t necessarily find that straining, it’s almost more of a challenge to do something creative and come up with something within the context. That’s something else to explore.

CT: All I knew at the start was that I wanted to do something about the Great Barrier Reef, so the story of my piece kind of evolved as the piece evolved. As I was writing it the ideas came about. I guess it depends on the type of idea like if you have a technique that you want to explore or something, that’s a lot more limiting than a story. I had quite a lot of freedom to shape things - whether I wanted to have emotional impact or I wanted to look at developing a soundscape.

CdN: It’s funny you say that - a story being much less limiting than a technique - because I find the exact opposite! I don’t often write programmatic works, and I find even though having a structure is by definition limiting, I don’t find that limiting because if it doesn’t work, no one knows you’ve deviated from that structure but you. On the other hand, when you write a program, you kind of need to aim for the experience to be what the program says.

CT: I’ve definitely had it not work, for sure. And then it’s really like ‘this is not what I wanted’.

CdN: Yeah. And I use extra-musical imagery as influence or inspiration, but I don’t usually put it down on paper for everyone to read because that’s mine. For me, it’s almost as interesting to see if I write ‘String Quartet Number 1” on the piece and then someone in the audiences listens and says “I really felt this”, any of their nuanced experiences of the piece is just as valid as the way I may have written it.

MS: Moving away from the Cybec program, I’d like to know your feelings about being an Australian composer right now - what that means to you, and more broadly in the context of what being a professional composer means, and balancing writing with study or teaching or other work.

CT: I finished my undergraduate degree at the Sydney Con in 2015, so I’ve had a full year of figuring it out. There’s a lot to academia but I don’t think it was entirely for me, so I’ve gotten into a lot of commercial music - television, advertising, podcasts - and personally I like doing that because it’s a challenge! You have to fill someone’s brief, and it can be really hard because you never know what you’re going to get. I just did one where they wanted funk rhythms, something jazzy. So that’s how I’m trying to make money, doing the commercial stuff. For me, the art music stuff is food for my soul. It’s funny, I do that to be an artist. Realistically though, it’s extremely difficult to be a composer. Lots of people supplement with teaching or commercial work. In Australia, there are opportunities but you have to find them. The good ones are really competitive, and I guess that’s the same anyway. I recently did a workshop in Alaska, and we had some composers from New York over there and they were describing how vibrant the contemporary classical scene was. It did seem like they had a lot more going on. It’s challenging - you have to really want to do it. I don’t think you wouldn’t willingly put yourself through the stress if you weren’t passionate about it.

MS: When you talk about there being more opportunities in New York, is it more about funding and government or cultural support, or places to be part of and see the new music?

CT: Definitely live performances. The way they were talking about it, it seems like there were more performers keen to be involved, and it can be hard to find people here. I think in Australia there might still be a bad reputation for new music. Or maybe just music in general. People ask you what you do and you say “I write classical music” and they’re like “Mozart?” or something generic. I think it’s changing and getting better, but it’s tough. I think we can all agree on that.

CdN: In America, there’s a really great culture for new music and contemporary music. Self-organised or performer driven. There are lots of things happening, and there are lots of opportunities to do stuff. There’s some amazing groups - Eighth Blackbird, Bang on a Can, Kronos Quartet - those groups whose sole thing is doing new work. There aren’t as many in Australia. There are some amazing ones, though - you have Plexus, Ensemble Offspring, Kupka’s Piano, and Argo is doing that too - but there’s not a huge amount. I haven’t done much commercial music but I’ve been doing almost completely art music, and I do supplement myself with some teaching, but not heaps anymore. You just have to get yourself out there, and that’s the most difficult thing. Whether that’s meeting people in the foyer after concerts and shaking hands, becoming friends then sending them your music, or entering competitions. Or cold-emailing people! You might not get an email back, but until people know your name nothing is going to happen. The big thing for me is, though there are not a heap of opportunities waiting for you - Cybec is an absolutely amazing program, though - the best thing you can do as a young composer, especially while you’re still at university is create your own opportunities. I organised a concert for myself and three other composers in my second year of undergrad at university, a concert of our own music. You start there - you’ve had music performed and maybe some people know your name and things may happen, or you might get a recording of that which can be useful. I loved it, and I’ve kept doing it. Creating opportunities for yourself is really important.

MS: You’re also creating opportunities for performers, who will hopefully catch the new music bug and keep doing it!

CdN: Absolutely. I’m really happy this year that rather working on just my music, I’m commissioning a bunch of new works by other Queensland-based composers. But it’s absolutely about getting yourself out there. When more people know your name you can start building different things and seeing which opportunities come your way.

SdF: A lot of institutionalised learning doesn’t prepare you for being a freelance composer. It’s amazing to get your pieces performed, but you need more than just one-off performances. Doing this kind of programs has helped me meet people, which has helped bring in some work, but a lot of my income is derived from teaching and performing, not the writing. I feel like perhaps there should be more new music in regular programming, maybe on a chamber music level.

CdN: Most of my orchestral works have only been performed once. It’s really difficult.

MS: What do you think should be taught to composers at a tertiary or post-tertiary level about functioning as a freelance composer? Stuff like networking and commissioning?

SdF: I think grant writing - teaching composers how to make their projects happen. Institutions are theoretically focussed, so you get lots of lessons on research writing instead, which isn’t necessarily interchangeable. I feel like there’s a lot of fending for yourself you have to learn! There could be more focus on the opportunities that will help you get out there on your own.

CT: At uni, there are people visiting, and you can write something and have it workshopped, but when you leave those opportunities aren’t so accessible.

MS: And the musicians aren’t at your fingertips anymore?

CT: I guess you have to work on building those relationships while you’re there. But the performers are also in the same position - they’re not yet established, and they’re making their own opportunities. You can give each other a platform.

AV: It’s extremely difficult to make a living as a composer unless you do commercial and or performance and or teaching as well. I don’t know that I know anyone who is doing that except for people who are at the top of the game. I don’t necessarily see that as a bad thing, because from a personal point of view - I do a bit of teaching at uni, some commercial stuff, some art music stuff and some songwriting - they all inform the other. Teaching at uni makes me a better composer. The stuff I get from my students! It’s a two-way street and I think that’s extremely valuable. The commercial composing makes me a better art music composer and vice versa. The danger is that you become a jack of all trades and a master of none, and I understand that that’s not for everyone. But my experience has been that it is extremely hard, but if you’re in the privileged position of piecing together a living from doing all those different things, which it seems like we all are, that’s a wonderful thing. It’s no mean feat to make that a reality - there’s lots of musicians who work full time and it becomes more and more of a hobby, so if diversifying like that means being a composer is still your main thing, it’s great.

MS: Absolutely. I’d like to touch on commissioning and how you think we can encourage more young people into commissioning and performing new works.

CdN: Make friends with composers!

AV: That’s so true because most of the work that you do is repeat work like it’s the same people.

CdN: Or it’s your network. If you ask your friend if you can write them a piece and they’ll perform it, doesn’t matter if they’re not paying you that first time round. Your other friends will hear it, and maybe they’ll get you to write them a piece. Or you pitch to a friend that you’ll write them a piece if they’ll help you write a grant application. Then you both write the application, and if you get it then you get paid, and if you don’t get it you still get a performance which is also good. You have to start somewhere.

Baroque And Roll: Sydney Baroque Music Festival by Hannah Spracklan-Holl

For many young musicians, camps and workshops are a highlight of our pre-professional development; everyone knows about post-camp blues! Rarely, however, is there a workshop that is entirely devised, planned, and run by students. The Sydney Baroque Music Festival is one such workshop, in which I recently participated for the second time. To combat the post-camp blues, I spoke with festival founder, director and participant Meg Cohen about taking the plunge into historically informed performance, the challenges of creating your own festival, and the future of period performance in Australia.

What is the Sydney Baroque Music Festival?

The Sydney Baroque Music Festival is an entirely student-driven initiative bringing together young musicians from all over Australia who share a passion for early music. The concept for this festival was to bring together the next generation of period performers from around the country. In creating the festival, I envisioned a dynamic environment in which these musicians could share their passion and craft with audiences.

The annual event sees musicians rehearsing a diverse program for one week, in preparation for a public concert.

This is the fourth SBMF, and has grown from a small group of Sydney musicians to this year’s 18 musicians from Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, Perth, Adelaide, and Canberra. The festival has been mentored by players from Australia’s leading baroque ensembles, including the Australian Brandenburg Orchestra, Ironwood and Pinchgut Opera. This year, the festival orchestra was mentored by the Muffat Collective.

How did you become interested in period performance?

Completely by accident! As a first year undergraduate music student, I was shoved into the anonymous crowd of the choir, and, seeking any opportunity to avoid this inevitable boredom, I landed myself a place in the Early Music Ensemble (the only group which would reply to my desperate emails). I found myself in a supportive environment full of intelligent, interested students and teachers, and my love for this performance style quickly grew.

The aspects of period performance that particularly appealed to me were the challenges of spontaneous problem solving and the freedom from a set interpretation of the music. I really enjoyed the collaboration that took place in rehearsals, in which everyone had the opportunity to contribute to the process of interpreting and performing the music.

What distinguishes SBMF from other period performance development workshops in Australia?

It’s free! I think it is so important to keep this festival accessible to any musician who wishes to take part. SBMF prides itself on its collaborative approach to learning – everyone has a voice here – which is also quite different to other programs available. To my knowledge, it is one of only a few baroque orchestral workshop operating in Australia.

I like to think of period performance as 'scholarly performance'. Do you think this is true and how does the rehearsal process for SBMF reflect this?

I would definitely agree, that while a period performer does not necessarily have to have read all available treatises by Leopold Mozart, Geminiani, Tartini and so on, there is a required level of understanding of the concepts and principles of these major works. Once all performers understand these principles, the performance of the music can make sense to all who are involved with performing it (much like a group of dancers, who, once knowing the steps, can move seamlessly together).

Over the course of SBMF, we first worked on collectively agreeing on all these principles, and then applied them directly to our repertoire. The Muffat Collective were vital here – their knowledge and expertise guided us through this process. In the first days of rehearsal, we spent a lot of time talking through the music, trying to understand the structure, style, and expressive elements. Once this was established, it directly influenced our approach to specific dance movements, and the instrumental techniques we used. A valuable lesson learnt was how to apply the principles thoughtfully and appropriately, so that what was happening in the music justified our choices – a dotted figure in a dance movement is so different to one in an overture.

How do you see the future of period performance in Australia, and how is SBMF contributing to this?

Baroque music is a burgeoning field of study for young musicians in Australia. It is exciting to be a part of such a fast-growing entity, and to see high-level ensembles forming all over the country. There has been a distinct trend of Australia’s brightest period performers seeking education elsewhere, and the knowledge that they bring back home to share with musicians of my generation is, I believe, the perfect foundation on which to build on that and form a strong baroque movement in Australia.

Australia is pretty good at meeting the performance education needs of its young musicians, but unfortunately for period performers, there are only a small selection of programs on offer. And most of these cost a pretty penny. This is where the Sydney Baroque Music Festival comes in – here is an opportunity for young baroque musicians to work with some of Australia’s best, on important repertoire, in fantastic Sydney venues, and all for free. I like to see the future of SBMF as an important stepping-stone for these young musicians into professional performance careers, perhaps the same way that the Australian Youth Orchestra provides for young ‘modern’ instrumentalists.

Postcard from Malaysia by Daniel Carison

Recently I returned from a three-week long engagement in Kuala Lumpur, where I was working with the Malaysian Philharmonic Orchestra in their production of Die Zauberflöte. The experience was most enlightening.

As a Melbournian, you could be forgiven for thinking that you live in one of the most cosmopolitan cities in the world. But as I discovered, Kuala Lumpur is a rapidly developing city with the food, culture and history to rival any great city in the world. One thing that any visitor will notice in KL is that shopping and shopping malls are prolific throughout the city; they are a hub of activity, full of shopping tourists and people trying to escape KL's oppressive heat and humidity. Like most countries, western cuisine is everywhere. But it is the local cuisine and dishes that are the real winners in KL. For no more than a few Australian dollars one can enjoy a plate of food from the markets overflowing with Nasi Lemak, Char Kway Teow and many other local delicacies. While KL is fairly tropical, it is clear that the influence of the overlapping Malaysian, Chinese and Indian districts and their distinct culture and architecture has shaped this city. Even the Melbourne coffee snob is well catered for in KL as Melbourne-inspired coffee houses pop up more and more frequently.

For a city that is primarily made of up Malay, Chinese and Indians, the practices and traditions of Western art and culture have certainly permeated their way throughout KL. I’ve been known to groan about the state of classical music, particularly within Melbourne. But when one travels to a non-western country you come to realise how fortunate we are to have the vibrant scene that exists in Melbourne. While classical music still remains a fairly niche market, it is undeniable that there is an immensely passionate group of artists, creatives and concert-goers within KL. The Malaysian Philharmonic was formed in 1998 and has been working tirelessly since its inception to develop an audience and culture around classical music within Malaysia. What immediately struck me about the Malaysian Philharmonic was the quality of both the orchestra and concert hall. Comprised mainly of international soloists (many of whom are Australian), the MPO form one of the most outstanding orchestras I’ve had the pleasure of working with and listening to. The Dewan Filharmonic Petronas centre is a state of the art concert hall that is equipped with one of the best acoustics for classical music you will find. From the outset, it was clear to me that the MPO is devoted to producing art of the highest quality and creating an experience with every concert they produce.

For an orchestra that primarily focuses on concert repertoire, Die Zauberflöte was a very different kind of project for the Malaysian Philharmonic. With music by Mozart and a libretto by Schikaneder, Die Zauberflöte has been a successful opera since its conception and remains one of the most popular operatic works in the world. However, this production surprisingly marked the first performance of Die Zauberflöte ever in Malaysia. It is a classic tale of light conquering darkness, the search for meaning and of course, love. The work features a full range of characters, voice types, arias and folksong, dialogue, elements of magic and magic realism, audience interaction, and singers and actors playing instruments on stage; the list goes on. Simply put, there is something in this opera for everyone. In a country where little opera is performed, Die Zauberflöte forms the perfect gateway for anyone to experience an opera for the first time and leave the theatre feeling compelled to return. After each performance audience members seemed inspired and elated, and many also commented on how they would now attend more opera after experiencing Die Zauberflöte.

The process of putting the show together was rapid and intense. The cast, director, conductor, musicians, technicians and creatives had only one week to put an entire opera together. Because of the time constraints, it was very important that my preparation prior to arriving in Kuala Lumpur had been thorough. It is almost as though one must be ready to adapt and perform the work from day one of rehearsals. You have to know your stuff and have made the necessary discoveries about the work before you get on the floor. The inherent challenge with this is that sometimes you will be performing the role for the first time, as I did in Die Zauberflöte. As a first timer, I discovered new things each time I sang the role but also had to convince my audience and colleagues that performing the role was as natural as drawing breath.

Working with colleagues is a big part of Die Zauberflöte, primarily because it is an ensemble work and all the characters interact with each other at least once in the opera. Because Die Zauberflöte is such a standard piece in the operatic repertoire, it’s likely that the singer playing Tamino in one production will have a completely different set of ideas and choices than the Tamino you work with next time. Thus, the entire cast were faced with the challenge of getting to know each other’s working style in a very short time in order to create chemistry and compelling drama on stage. Fortunately, this cast of Die Zauberflöte was filled with incredibly experienced singers, some of whom had sung their respective roles over 200 times. As a young singer surrounded by seasoned professionals, I was mesmerised and inspired by the poise, finesse and dedication of these performers.

As this work was semi-staged it meant that certain stagecraft elements would not be employed in the production. But, given the significance of this production, the MPO created as large a scale production as they could manage. The concept of semi-staged is ambiguous. While it doesn’t suggest a completely staged production involving all the moving parts you would see in a theatre, it also doesn’t suggest a concert-style performance. Thus, the first few rows of seating were removed and the orchestra were placed on the ground to make way for the action taking place on stage. I was nervous when I heard the orchestra would be on the floor, but because of the fantastic acoustic of the concert hall and wonderful direction of Guillaume Tourniaire, both singer and orchestra were able to blend seamlessly. In this production, we were very fortunate to collaborate with the fantastic singers of the Kuala Lumpur City Opera chorus. The group was formed in 2012 and comprises local Malaysian singers as well as some Australians living in Kuala Lumpur. To complement their relatively static musical role, the chorus in Die Zauberflöte were dressed in blacks, which was very visually effective on stage as it contrasted greatly with the full costumes of the principal cast.

I played the role of Papageno in this production. Given the nature of the role, I had some idea before I left that playing Papageno would mean being prepared for both the physical and vocal demands of the role. Papageno provides comic relief in the show and contrasts with the larger cast of noble characters. In this production, I made many of my entrances through the audience. Consequently, I found myself running onto the stage and then immediately singing. This proved to be a great test of both my fitness and vocal technique. It became clear to me from the outset that my rest during this busy period was going to be critical, and I was dependent on sleep which was, unfortunately, often hard to come by. Rehearsals would take place in the afternoon and evening and often didn't end until after 10pm.

Papageno was originally performed by the librettist himself, Schikaneder, and is the folk singer of Die Zauberflöte. Unlike the other characters, Papageno simply cannot get away with just singing beautifully, and must have a vast library of vocal colours. This was vocally taxing, particularly in the dialogue where I was required to yell, grumble, whisper and manipulate my voice and then immediately sing. I faced a number of other challenges during the show which put my ability to the test. Two such examples both involved the use of my mouth. The first challenge was learning how to play the pipes, a trademark of every good Papageno. In theory, it’s quite simple and in practice, it’s not incredibly difficult. However, while I was pushing to have the pipes from day one of rehearsals, they didn’t arrive until halfway through the final dress rehearsal. This meant on opening night I hadn’t had a chance to play the pipes with the orchestra, nor had I had the time to get to know my way around the instrument and practice singing and playing together. The second challenge came in act one when Papageno is punished by the three ladies for telling lies and has a padlock placed over his mouth which inhibits his ability to speak. The lock used in the show had a pacifier attached to one end which I would bite down on to hold into place. Again, this seemed simple in theory and practice. However, in this production I had to keep the padlock in my mouth for roughly ten minutes while I sat on the edge of the stage during Tamino and the Queen’s arias. By the time I had to sing again, my mouth and throat were dry. This was something I was able to overcome only slightly by ensuring that I actively produced saliva while I sat and waited on the edge of the stage.

I think one of the greatest things I learnt about playing a new role is that you only truly know what the role requires of you when you finally experience the pressure, anxiety and intensity that comes with performing in front of an audience. It is possible to rehearse things to death, but rarely possible to simulate the experience of performing the role in that high-pressure environment, especially when it is a role debut like it was for me. With every production and performance of any role, you learn exactly what is required of you and how to do it better and better each time.

Although I was only a visitor in Kuala Lumpur for a short time, I felt a sense of sadness when it came time to leave what is a truly fantastic city. While it may have a smaller output of classical music and opera than what we can expect in Melbourne, Malaysia is rich in outstanding music makers and passionate advocates who are working tirelessly to establish a strong musical culture. I was inspired by the singers of the Kuala Lumpur City Opera chorus whose vibrant energy was palpable on stage and contributed to creating such a successful show. The Malaysian Philharmonic is undoubtedly one of the best orchestras in the world and Malaysia can be very proud to have such a world class group. All I can say is if you’re every visiting or find yourself in KL, don’t pass up the opportunity to hear this wonderful orchestra. I’ll certainly be looking for an excuse to head back.

Backstage Pass: Rehearsing Siegfried by Deborah Humble

Every once in a while a contract will come along which makes you glad you decided to become an opera singer. You’ve stuck it out: the training, the language learning, the endless auditions, the money spent on coaching and lessons, the travel, the hotels, the nerves, the critics, the competitions, the closet-like dressing rooms.

I arrive in Hong Kong on a Saturday afternoon in January to begin such a contract. One of the highlights of the Hong Kong Philharmonic Orchestra’s 2016/2017 season are concert performances of Siegfried, the third opera in Richard Wagner’s epic Ring Cycle. Siegfried was composed between 1851 and 1871 and had its premiere in Bayreuth along with Das Rheingold, Die Walküre and Götterdämmerung in 1876. Under the direction of Chief Conductor and Music Director Jaap van Zweden, the Hong Kong Philharmonic, recognised as Asia’s leading symphony orchestra, is undertaking the entire Ring Cycle over a period of four years.

It is a first for Hong Kong, and, right from the beginning of this project, there has been the sense that this is a very special undertaking. Raff Wilson, Director of Artistic Planning, explains that these performances form the centrepiece of the Maestro’s Hong Kong tenure. “The Ring is a massive project by any measure,” he says. “The challenge of bringing together all the forces required at the right time mean that our whole organisation has been working on these performances, in some cases, for years.”

The project has an even greater significance as all four operas are being recorded by the Naxos label for commercial CD release. This increases the orchestra’s reputation and reach, not only within Asia but worldwide. “For many people around the world this will be the first thing they hear the Hong Kong Philharmonic perform,” says Mr Wilson. The Philharmonic's performances of Das Rheingold, in which I sang Erda in 2015, and Die Walküre, recently included in The Guardian’s ‘Best Classical CD’s of 2016' list, are already on the shelves and have received critical acclaim.

For the next three weeks I’ll be performing and recording with an international cast which includes several colleagues I know well and have worked with before. The Wagner ‘family’ is a fairly small one, and one of the nicest things about being involved with this particular repertoire is that the same faces pop up in all corners of the globe.

The job begins when a driver collects me from the airport. I am shortly dropped off at the Intercontinental Hotel in Kowloon, which has an amazing, panoramic view of Hong Kong Harbour and is just a few steps from the concert hall at the Cultural Centre. Presentation of a Ring Cycle, even in concert format, is a huge financial undertaking for any opera house or orchestra and often requires support from a number of patrons. Since 2006, the Hong Kong Philharmonic's principal patron has been Swire, a company who have provided the largest sponsorship in the orchestra’s history. Swire, along with the Philharmonic, are committed to promoting artistic excellence in Hong Kong and to enhancing the city’s reputation as one of the great cultural centres of the world. In addition, the Ring Cycle project has received financial support from the Hong Kong government, and is thus well funded.

As I am unpacking two large suitcases full of everything that an opera singer requires for almost a month’s stay in a hotel room (pot noodles, long life skim milk, tea bags, instant coffee, duty free red wine, portable speakers, CD player, humidifier, sound reduction headphones, the list goes on), I receive a ‘welcome to Hong Kong’ message from the orchestra administration. This message includes the news that the arrival Matthias Goerne, alongside whom I sing at the beginning of Act Three, has been delayed by a day; I am thus not required for rehearsal tomorrow as planned and am given a reprieve. I plan to spend the day resting, recuperating, and trying to beat the jet-lag.

I spend the evening doing what many travellers do when they arrive at a new destination: exploring. First I wander the hotel, its restaurants and cafes, its pool, spa and business centre, before walking around the neighbourhood. I remember the area quite well from my previous visits here; I find the local supermarket, coffee shop and train station, as well as buy an Octopus travel card, with relative ease. On the way back to the hotel I stop by the concert hall to admire the laser light show which occurs nightly around the harbour. The Cultural Centre here may not be as architecturally impressive as the Sydney Opera House, but the view across to Hong Kong Island and its vertical skyline is as impressive as anywhere in the world.

I fail miserably in my attempt to stay awake until a ‘reasonable’ hour and fall asleep at 7.30pm. As a result I am sitting up watching House of Cards on my computer at 3.30am and am at breakfast before the buffet is even open. I’m not the only one. This is how colleagues meet for the first time; bleary eyed, before the sun has come up, comparing jet-lag stories – very glamorous! Twenty-four hours later, regardless of how anyone is feeling, rehearsals begin.

Putting on an opera in concert requires a different rehearsal schedule to a fully- staged production. Time that would normally be given to the drama becomes extra time to devote purely to musical detail. The Philharmonic have already been rehearsing without the singers for some time prior to our arrival, so things are well underway. Maestro Jaap van Zweden works with orchestra and singers separately in the beginning, with the singers also joined by a pianist, assistant conductor and language coach as we work through the opera act-by-act and scene-by-scene. It’s a long opera and there’s a lot of music to get through so the process takes nearly an entire week.

This is the 'discussion' stage. There is a lot of stopping and starting in order to discuss everything from tempi, phrasing, pronunciation, language, dynamics and orchestration to the importance of harmonic progression, chromaticism and the understanding of various leitmotifs. Maestro van Zweden welcomes input from the singers and tells us his personal ideas regarding the score. At this stage it is an inclusive process. Single phrases are sometimes repeated several times until a result is found that works for everyone. Every singer is either German or very experienced performing in the German language; however, everyone is aware that this opera is being recorded, so there are small intricacies that need extra careful attention.

This is where the important job of the language coach comes into play. Volker Krafft, a répétiteur and language coach at the Staatsoper Hamburg in Germany, is fulfilling these same roles for the complete cycle in Hong Kong as well as being one of two Assistant Conductors. “The function of a language coach,” he states, “is to listen to the singers in the piano and orchestral rehearsals and give them notes regarding their pronunciation of the German language. That’s why the person who fulfils this role should be a native speaker who also knows something about singing. In individual sessions at the piano I try to make sure the singers manage to combine the correct pronunciation with their individual way of singing. The language coach/répétiteur is also there to make sure all rhythms and notes are correctly sung and to ensure the dramatic intent of each word comes across.”

Ultimately it is the unity of words and music in Wagner’s works that make for successful understanding of the whole. Every element of language is expressive, as well as being connected with every instrumental colour and every modulation in the work.

“Languages are so important in the international world of opera,” says Volker. “Not only the phonetics, which can, to a certain extent, be learnt and taught by good coaches, but also the ability to communicate in different languages is crucial.” He also believes that immersion into the cultural background of the music is very important. It is indeed hard to imagine singing Wagner successfully without at least some understanding of the historical and political background surrounding the composer and his music. This education is an ever evolving one for a singer and Wagnerian roles are always a work in progress. Some colleagues here are singing these long Wagner roles for the first time, and are learning to adapt to the many details that will change throughout the rehearsal process.

To end the first week of rehearsals there is an Education Programme and open day. The public are invited into the auditorium to witness the rehearsal process and I am delighted to see a number of very young people taking part. This involvement is part of a wonderful initiative by the orchestra entitled the Young Audience Scheme. This particular open day includes an introduction to the story of Siegfried through a demonstration by musicians of some of the more unusual Wagner instruments such as the Wager tuba. Late last year local children were encouraged to participate in the Siegfried Creative Art Competition by presenting their unique vision of the story of the opera in the form of visual artwork. The entries are being displayed as part of an exhibition in the foyer of the concert hall and in a dedicated published booklet. It is so important to encourage the next generation of opera goers and I very much admire the staff who invest time in these kinds of outreach programmes in order to make opera which is perceived as heavy and difficult so much more accessible and understandable.

There is a great deal of spare time when one rehearses a Ring. No matter which character you sing, there are many rehearsals for which you are not required. It’s important to be independent during these long weeks away from home; with few cast members, the challenge is how to spend long hours alone. Of course, there is always sightseeing to do in a foreign place; however, it is important to balance activity with rest. If you are lucky enough to have continuous work then you also need to schedule time to learn your next role. This can be difficult when you are living in a hotel away from access to your regular teachers and coaches.

Publicity also takes time. It is an important element of careers in the current cultural landscape and the centrality and development of social media and the internet means that singers can maintain high profiles if they so wish. Most major companies have their own publicists who may ask singers to be involved with various press opportunities during their contractual engagement and some singers have their own private publicist. While publicity is important, it is also a large commitment. In my first week in Hong Kong I spend no less than six hours on publicity commitments including local radio interviews, answering questions for online publications and interviewing both over the phone and face-to-face.

One thing I like to do on my days off is to go into the hall and spend some time listening to the music being rehearsed and, in particular, to watch the conductor. As a guest singer it's rare to have had a lot of experience working with one conductor, and one way of becoming familiar with their gestures and communication is to watch from the audience. It’s also a good way to get to know the acoustics of an unfamiliar venue. Perhaps one of the biggest advantages to doing this is to begin to identify with the opera as a whole. If you have one of the smaller roles and are only present at rehearsals when you are involved, it can feel like a very disconnected experience. It is always possible to pick up a few tips too. In the Wagner world there will always be a colleague around with more experience who is happy to pass on the benefit of their expertise.

At the end of the first week of rehearsals everyone seems relaxed and happy. Things are progressing nicely and going according to plan. We are told to enjoy our Sunday rest day and return refreshed for the orchestral rehearsals which will add another exciting dimension to the proceedings. So far, so good.

All About New Music: Tilde Festival 2017 by Jessica Lindsay Smith

Somehow all of the city heat gathered itself at Testing Grounds on Saturday. In between keeping cool by drinking chilled beers and shielding under umbrellas that belonged to an art installation at the venue, festival-goers were enjoying the massive amount of music at the Tilde New Music and Sound Art Festival. There were 12 hours of music to be exact, in three performance spaces, alongside installations and the constant chatter of audiences. You read that right. 12. Hours.

The space abounded with music. An eight channel fixed media installation accompanied the entirety of the festival, including music written by Alice Bennett and Vincent Giles, the power couple behind Tilde.

After six days of hard core composition workshops and classes at the Tilde New Music and Sound Art Academy, half of me was excited for the festival and half of me was feeling overloaded. I was keen to just sit and let the sounds wash over me, a luxury which I got to enjoy a little bit. But as the festival photographer in the afternoon, not a lot of my time was spent relaxing.

I had a lot of fun doing the festival photography. It gave me a great excuse to talk to people and I was lucky to hear little snapshots of every performance. With its pink and steel grey colour scheme and industrial performance spaces, Testing Grounds was a perfect frame for the wild array of improvised, notated, electronic, and acoustic music and sound art that the festival contained. Dare I say, there aren’t many places you can hear gamelan with loop pedal and microtonal acoustic guitar in the same festival.

At 7pm, I caught some of Phoebe Green’s performance in the White Box performance space. It was a virtuosic journey that took on the seemingly impossible task of performing Iti Ke Me by Pierluigi Billone, an intricate piece which calls for an alternately tuned viola and which only a handful of people in the world know how to play. In addition, Pheobe's love of commissioning new works was celebrated through her performance of Lisa Ilea’s CRANES. What was most striking about Phoebe was the honesty and rawness in her playing and her captivating persona on stage; she demanded the audience's attention and held it for the entirety of her performance.

The flow of the day was intriguing. I particularly loved the casual nature of the outdoor spaces in which audiences came and went, chatted freely about what they enjoyed, and, in the classic festival fashion, drank boutique beer and ate gourmet hot dogs.

My favourite performance of the day (although there was so much I loved) was Thea Rossen’s performance of Aphasia by Mark Applebaum, a highly choreographed piece for hand gestures synchronised to prerecorded sound. Aphasia explores what the experience might be like for someone suffering from aphasia, a neurological condition caused by damage to language centres of the brain. The tape part was a collage of transformed vocal sounds, often overlapping and weaving amongst one another. The visual aspect of the performance was extremely striking and really got under my skin; I don’t remember breathing at all during the performance. As the piece came to an end me and my fellow audience members let out our breaths and applauded Thea’s skills and theatrics.

I got home at midnight worn out, with tired ears, a lovely sandal tan and a camera full of photos. Needless to say, I am taking a break from new music for the next few days. I want to process what I’ve heard.

In Conversation: Shania Choir

It's their prerogative to have a little fun: the Shania Choir on singing, community and the Queen herself.

What is it about Shania Twain's discography that made you honour her with an a cappella choir?

She is queen! Shania's music was such a strong voice for a lot of us when we were growing up; we have fond memories of singing along to her in the living room and sassing anyone that walked past with her tunes. There's rarely an artist that has been as successful as her (she just got awarded the Billboard Icon award last year!) and we think she's worth all the honour.

How did the choir actually start - what was the aha! moment?

Shania Choir started as the brain child of Amateur Hours creator, Laura Imbruglia. For AH's launch last year, she had the brilliant thought to pull together a bunch of friends for a once off, hilarious a cappella choir in wigs and four-part harmony. Peopled seemed to love it as much as we did, so we thought, hey, why not, let's do it more!

It's not an easy task to set up a choir from scratch - what did you learn during the process?

So much. The brunt of the responsibility has landed on the shoulders of Alex Morris, who is one of Australia's top choir masters, conductors and arrangers. He skilfully turned Shania into a choral dream and we couldn't be luckier. One of our favourite things we've learnt is how to position choir members next to each other so that each voice blends as perfectly as it can into the next. We've also learnt how much people love Shania - it's ridiculous. It's like we've just validated everyone's 90s renaissance and we're more than happy to do it!

What can the audience expect from this concert experience?

Think drag, leopard print, harmonies, sass, and occasional awkward dancing. One thing they might not be expecting is to come away having learnt a bit more about Shania's life. We've weaved some short monologues in between each song to highlight her incredible journey to fame.

Shania Choir is proof that choral singing does not have to revolve around obscure works. For young singers interested in getting involved in group singing, how do you recommend they get started?

The first bit is easy - ask. Post on Facebook, or ask your friends who else might be interested and go from there. I think it all starts with an idea and a goal - once you've got that, it's easy for people to get behind. I'm sure that at least half of Shania Choir's success (if any) will be because of the name.

Can you share your favourite Shania songs?

That's hard! They're all so loved, but perhaps I'd pick 'Don't be Stupid' and 'I'm Gonna Getcha Good'.

Music Business 101: Grant Writing by Naomi Johnson

1. Check the Criteria

Starting off with the big picture, and even before you start thinking about your wonderful project, check the grant criteria. You want to make sure it's the right grant for you and your project, but also that you fit what the funding body is looking for. It would be a shame to start writing, then realise that you're over the age limit of 25, or that the grant is actually only open to current students. Do you fit the bill? Does your project sound like what they're looking for?

2. Read Everything

Many grants will have a document or web page that lists the eligibility criteria, the questions you'll have to answer in the application process and any supporting documentation you're going to need all in the one place. With others, you might have to search a little further. Either way, it's best to start by reading everything and making sure you've got your head round both the process and the amount of time it's going to take you. Some funding bodies will also publish lists of previous grant recipients and their projects, so why not check out past success stories while you're at it.

3. Write With Passion, and Clarity

Funding bodies want to support projects that are going to succeed, and one of the best ways to show that is to be really passionate about that success in your writing. It's great to get excited about your project – that's one of the things that will really make your application shine. Make sure, though, that you balance this with a strong fundamental plan. Is your project explained consistently? Would someone who might not have a background in music understand it as well? How about your mum/sister/uncle? Sometimes the grant assessors won't know what a Pierrot Ensemble is, so write in a way that clarifies specialist terms and ideas.

4. Word Limits are there for a Reason

This might sound like a bit of a silly one, but it's true: if the question asks for a specific number of works, that's a good indication of the level of detail the funding body wants. If you've answered a 400-word question on how you're going to give back to the community with only 50 words, then you probably need to re-think whether your project is going to meet the eligibility criteria. Because one of them is probably to do with community engagement! Within 10% of the word limit is probably a good strong answer. Remember, you want to use all the space you've got to sell your awesome idea.

5. Make the Budget Balance

Some grants will ask for a proposed budget for your project, and its imperative that budget balances. Some funding bodies won't even consider your application unless it does. Making it balance means that your total income including the grant will exactly equal your total expenditure on the project. This doesn't mean you have to know exactly how much you're going to spend on printing programs or anything, just that you've done your research about how much it is all likely to cost. You need to list everything, including performance fees, travel costs, and then smaller things like sheet music purchases if you plan to spend your grant money on that as well. On the other side of the sheet, you should also list all the assumed sources of income, things like ticket sales, donations, other grant funding. Remember that 'personal contribution' is a valid income source if it makes the budget balance!

6. Ask for Advice and Feedback

And ask for as much as possible. It's important to make sure your application says what you think it's saying, all the way from the big ideas to individual sentences and the best way to check that is with someone else's eyes. There are lots of ways to get feedback: have a coffee with a friend just to chat about your project, seek out someone who has previously got the grant and pick their brains, and finally ask someone to proofread your application. If you've got a friend who's applying for the same grant, all the better; proofreading each other's applications will probably help you see weaknesses in your own. Some funding bodies might offer feedback themselves before the application is due. If so, it's definitely asking ahead of time what they think.

7. Practice

Many say that grant writing is an art, and in some ways it's true. You need to be good at expressing your ideas clearly and passionately, showing that your brilliant project will be successful no matter what. The first time you write a grant application it will probably feel like pulling teeth, but like any skill it improves with practice. For every application you write, whether it's successful or not, you're honing your skills for the next one. With practice, you'll become increasingly good at articulating your ideas, knowing what the funding body is looking for, and hopefully getting your fantastic projects up and running.

In Conversation: Kanen Breen

On setbacks, cabaret and telling stories with opera.

You’ve been called an ‘accidental opera star’. Before you joined the Victorian State Opera Chorus, did you ever envisage yourself as an opera singer?

Never in my wildest dreams! First and foremost, I consider myself an entertainer, and I am very comfortable being labelled thus - certainly, I am perhaps best known for my association with the operatic stage, but I have always regarded my capacity to sing opera as a 'special effect', that is, an ASPECT of my skill-set rather than my raison d'ètre.

It thrills and delights me to be surrounded by and immersed in the talents of others, whatever it may be that they excel at. I learn (steal) from my colleagues all the time, whether they be an international operatic superstar, an unknown comedian or a cabaret chanteuse on the skids. Humans fascinate me, those who are drawn to the theatre especially. I am an introvert (really, I am) and my greatest pleasure in life is watching how other introverted performers variously overcome their natures and transform themselves into showbiz spectacles.

You star alongside Meow Meow in Victorian Opera’s upcoming work ’Tis Pity: An Operatic Fantasia on Selling the Skin and Teeth. How would you describe the work?

It's a mash-up, dream-like, a fantasia; part song-cycle, part vaudeville, part circus, part opera. In examining the human body as a site for pleasure, for punishment and for profit, we are freely crossing genres, musical forms and influences. Meow, Cameron Menzies (director) and Richard Mills (composer) have created a twisted history of sorts, which moves through times libidinous and straight-laced, debauched and despotic. Working girls and boys have been both reviled and celebrated across history; there's an obvious correlation between the flesh business and 'the show business' which ’Tis Pity toys with through an extravagant marriage of music, dance, and theatrical spectacle.

How does the creative process differ between ’Tis Pity, where you are one of a cast of only two, and a work with a much larger cast?

There's a lot more space in the rehearsal room for a start! Meow and I are joined onstage by three knockout dancers who perform many different story-telling functions across the breadth of the show. So there are five of us onstage plus a 35 piece orchestra and conductor, all breathing life into the stories being told. The pleasures of rehearsing a brand new piece are innumerable; no rules, nothing is a mistake yet, everyone is pulling in the same direction. A small cast like this one, full of mad-cap energy and inventiveness generates an exciting momentum and there's time for everyone to have a voice. Cameron is great at harnessing the ideas being tossed about, giving them reason and form, or telling us when they're shithouse!

’Tis Pity appears, on first glance, to be quite unusual in the current Australian opera landscape; an operatic cabaret of sorts. Do you see opera and cabaret as synergetic art forms, and how is this reflected in ’Tis Pity?

Absolutely yes! I adore cross-pollination! With myself, Meow and an orchestra onstage, we have the capacity to shift from an epic symphonic sound-world into intimate, hushed introspection and everywhere in between. Meow's got great vocal chops so she can ride victoriously over the top of a thumping band one minute, and break your heart (or your balls) the next, with a whisper and a smile. Opera and cabaret alike are sensational means by which to explore the personal within the political.

You’ve been part of opera in Australia since you joined the Victorian State Opera Schools Company. How has opera in Australia changed since then, and how do you see the future of Australian opera?

Opera is alive and well but is its audience? Shows like ’Tis Pity, which combine classical and contemporary sound worlds are an excellent means by which to reinvigorate the ears of an existing operatic audience whilst also enticing newer and younger bums (and ears) onto seats. If I knew how to secure, or even predict the future of opera in Australia, I'd be a VERY wealthy man! Opera itself hasn't changed since my first days, but the world has. We live in an age of instant gratification, more so than ever before, so opera is now competing with iPads and Netflix and cheap thrills at the touch of a button. Adapt or die, I suppose. There will ALWAYS be a place for the spine-tingling virtuosity of the human voice in full flight, but the form in which it is presented requires constant re-examination. Victorian Opera has prioritised this type of exploration since its inception, which is an enormously satisfying journey to be a part of.

Rehearsal Magazine is for young artists and music students – what do you wish you’d known when you were starting out as a performer?

NOTHING is permanent! Good times come to an end, bad times will pass. Managements come and go, you will fall out of favour inexplicably and opportunity will come knocking when you least expect it. You have to be prepared to ride out some storms if you want to dance on the rainbows. See change as opportunity - a chance to evolve and re-invent.

The older I get, the more I realise that mental and physical health are interdependent- treasure your physical health. Don't burn up your capital, don't take yourself for granted and hopefully your emotional well-being will fall into line.

How can young singers and artists get started in making their own performance opportunities?

Persistence, daring and a willingness to fail spectacularly and often. These are three ingredients which served me well as I set out on a career in the entertainment industry. Failure is a short-cut to self-understanding and nothing teaches you what you're made of and what you really have to offer like having to rebuild from the ground up. If your talent is resilient, you will learn through knock-backs and disappointment that there really is no such thing as a backwards step, only detours, re-routes and hopefully some scenic tours on the road to wherever you’re supposed to be.

Learning to Sing: The Boite Singers' Festival

As a non-singer who has spent a considerable amount of time working with and listening to professional vocalists, I am (perhaps surprisingly) uncomfortable with my own voice. So while I love to attend choir concerts, I'm not so quick to put my hand up to participate. When I found out about the Boite Singers' Festival, a three-day event full of workshops and performance I was thrilled by the line-up, but not so excited about the participation aspect. While I am an active soloist in my own living room, my confidence stops after belting out "It's Raining Men" to absolutely nobody in my pyjamas. I was once an excited choir girl, but my days in the Australian Girls' Choir are long over. So, this weekend presented me with a challenge - turn up and chicken out of actually singing, or give it a shot and learn something about my voice (and myself) in the process. Here are five things I figured out:

You look sillier if you DON'T sing.

Being in a choir is a lot like being part of a sporting team. I'm imagining this, as I haven't ever been part of a team sport, and believe if I had I would have been put down as the seat warmer from day one, but I digress. Playing a sport and being part of a choir is all about the team that you're in - how you support them, and how much heart you give it. Luckily for me, this first introduction to choral singing as an adult was not a competition, and there was nothing for me to do but abandon my fears and sing like I meant it. I learnt from experience pretty quickly that being shy and humming through pursed lips was not going to get me far in the Melbourne Georgian Choir, after hanging back in the first song to "'observe". Don't go to choir practise to "observe". It's like going to McDonald's to have a salad. Ain't no good. You'll look like you don't know what you're doing (which you might not, but don't let this stop you), or you're not enjoying yourself, which is pretty much impossible when you're singing, I've realised.

It's more fun singing with other people than singing alone.

Though I'm not averse to singing along with the radio when I'm alone, or with people I'm very comfortable with, singing with a group of strangers is not something I would generally be up for. Not willingly anyway. It's up there with public speaking; death would be preferable, or at least more comfortable. But there's nothing like singing slightly out of pitch next to someone you've never met before to make a new friend. (Apologies to all the "new friends" I made.) Genuinely though, singing in Andrew Legg's gospel choir was one of the most uniting experiences I've ever had. I got to not only speak but sing with people I would otherwise never even meet. And when I say sing, I mean really sing. And clap. Joy happens when you sing with other people, and it's not quiet. It's funny how careful we get about self-expression, and showing how we feel, when really, there's nothing better or more freeing than singing as loudly as we can.

It doesn't matter how good you are.

"We riff on life" said Ray Charles, and riff on life is exactly what we do. Life is messy and complicated, but there's no need to overcomplicate your singing. You don't have to be destined to become an opera singer or the next Mariah Carey to explore, use and develop your voice. In fact, it's the only instrument we all share. Not everyone has the time and patience to conquer the French Horn, but everyone has the capacity to sing a tune. It matters that you put all of your heart into it, and throw away your insecurities. Your nerves about whether or not you sound good can wait for another day. Sing with your truest voice, and you will be greeted with a whole lot of other true voices. There is little time for pretence when you're singing with people you don't know - they don't know anything about you except for how much you're putting into your singing.

Passion over pitch.

It's not about how good you sound, or how well you can read the music, which is a tough pill to swallow when you've spent your whole life learning about the "correct" way to make music. It turns out, enough voices singing the same thing sound pretty good, even without formal training. There is a special quality about singing in a group of other people who aren't there because they were paid to be there - a kind of unity that only comes from being in the exact same mindset as the person next to you. No one is ever going to pay me to sing, and the people either side of me aren't going to be hired for the next big Broadway show either, but we're all there because we have something we want to express, which makes us sound pretty good regardless of our untrained voices. Not only is our technique based purely on making the happiest sound we can possibly make, we're also trying as hard as we can to make up for the fact that we're not award-winning. And the more you sing, the better you get.

Gospel music values the voice you bring to it.

Studying music at university teaches you about right and wrong, and that there is such a thing as a perfect performance and you are not there yet. Well, you may be there. I certainly was not. Singing in a choir with a large group of people from different ethnicities, with different life experiences and different ideas of what is good and what is not, taught me that there is no such thing as a perfect sound in this world. There is a good sound, and it's your sound.

I left the Boite Singers' Festival with a bunch of music, some inspiring conversations spinning around my mind and a huge grin plastered on my face. I'm still not a confident vocalist, and won't be hitting a stage near you anytime soon, but I'm itching to give singing another try. I'm excited about how easy it was to participate when I finally let myself enjoy it, and I'm ready to sign up for a choir (as long as it's unauditioned...). How's that for a new years resolution? Sing more, worry less. Will you join me?

St Georges' Series: Lachlan Dent

Not long after finishing university, I realised I was ‘out of the jurisdiction’ of all of my teachers and finally free to explore ways of approaching cello technique that were previously unavailable. After trawling through many treatises on string playing and investigating the teaching philosophies of some well-regarded performance coaches, I decided to prioritise the physical sensation of playing over the sound produced. In practising, I changed my primary goal from ‘sounding good’ or ‘getting it right’ to making everything about the experience ‘feel nice’. I kept myself honest through this process by knowing that, if I cheated (and allowed small amounts of unnecessary tension to creep in during difficult passages or moments in practice), then this effect would probably result in greater tension and therefore errors in performance.

For about two or three days, I felt that I sounded significantly worse than I had for many years prior. However, the most major issues were around moments that had been the most likely to fail in performance. I therefore stopped considering these issues to be ‘slips’ and instead began to realise that the processes or concepts behind their execution were faulty. Thus began a long process of trial and error, examining the functioning of the human body and the cello.

This process was emotionally painful at first, until I realised that the cello and my body were both giving me the clearest feedback I could possibly ask for; it was simply a matter of learning how to listen to and interpret that feedback. Essentially, what I had discovered was that, by remaining free in my body-use and not trying to interfere with the outcomes of my understanding of cello playing, I’d found that my best teachers could be the instrument and my body.

Many breakthroughs and realisations followed in the subsequent weeks and months, often on close to a daily basis. Before much longer, I genuinely enjoyed being wrong. A mistake of any kind meant that a window into my next major discovery had likely just presented itself. Further, a substandard result no longer occurred because ‘I hadn’t worked hard enough’ or ‘I wasn’t good enough’, it was simply the outcome of my understanding of the cello (which I became always willing to improve or refine). Likewise, on the rare occasions that I would take a day or two off practice, errors upon resuming weren’t really from ‘being rusty’, so much as my muscle memory no longer compensating for a faulty concept. Changing ‘bad habits’ had become much less of an issue too; when I accurately understood the causal relationship between a certain process and its outcome, I found myself preferring the version that worked well. During this process of exploration and discovery, I found that knowing what doesn’t work can be just as valuable as knowing what does work.

As I continued to practice and explore in this way over several months, I developed a greater awareness of my body and an increased sensitivity to the ways in which it ‘wanted’ to move. This increased my physical efficiency substantially and other people’s feedback (both musicians and non-musicians alike) started to change dramatically; suddenly I was a ‘natural’.

In hindsight, this has been a process of transformation and exactly the right thing for me to do. When I first started down this path, however, it felt like a major leap of faith; the gravity of the platitudes from my time as an ‘educationally institutionalised’ cellist was strongly present. Ultimately, I realised that I had to take responsibility for my own playing and that I would need to question everything I’d been taught. It is my hope that more musicians can start to feel the benefits of working in this way. I’ve found it to be far more rewarding than my previous ways of practicing, and my standard is much higher as a result. Similarly, pain issues I’d had in the past have no longer been a problem. My ultimate technical goal, by the way, has always been to reach a level of proficiency where the technical considerations of any given piece of music are a non-issue, so that the music and its performance can be at the forefront of my mind.

A final note I should add is that by the time I’d started working in the ways described above, I’d had a background of Alexander Technique lessons for several years. Other systems, such as Feldenkrais, may be equally good, but I’ve had no experience with these. Alexander Technique lessons helped immensely with my body use and awareness and could be useful to musicians finding themselves interested in, or having difficulty, employing the processes I’ve described here.

In Conversation: Eva-Marie Middleton

Your upcoming performance for Fringe World Perth sees you and a small chamber ensemble performing lieder by Mahler and Wagner. Tell us how the idea for this production came about.

Whenever I finish a show I like to take some time to experiment with what my voice has become capable of during the production (the voice is constantly growing and changing and surprising me). I finished the OperaBox production of Strauss’ Ariadne auf Naxos in September 2016, in which I played The Composer, and did my usual experimenting, during which I came across the Mahler Kindertotenlieder. Not only was I surprised by how my voice could now handle the music, the subject matter struck me. While it is literally about the death of a child, I found myself reading into it a lot about losing childhood in general. This is particularly pertinent in a world where we constantly see pictures of children in war zones on TV and refugee children on boats; even just seeing how fast children I know grow up in contemporary Western Society. This idea of lost childhood spoke to me a lot.

I then started thinking of another piece with which to pair it. I had learnt the Wagner Wesendonck Lieder years before, and been ready to perform them a couple of times with various orchestras around Perth. However, other programming demands had forced a change: One of these turned into a performance of Strauss's Four Last Songs, so not a change for the worse, but I still hadn’t had a chance to perform the Wagner. While the Wagner isn’t about a literal death as with the Mahler, there is a certain philosophical nature to the songs, a coming to terms with life in all its aspects, which I thought worked alongside the Mahler. Again, my voice now felt so much more at ease with the music that the pairing just made sense.

I approached a couple of friends about this idea, and I think the most important part in my decision-making process was that no one said the idea was stupid, so I went ahead! I had already found an arrangement of the Mahler by an American arranger for piano, oboe and French horn (and voice of course), so I decided to make my own arrangement of the Wagner to match. I always had in my head the idea that I wanted to do something more akin to a one-person opera than a traditional lieder recital, so I brought a director on board. They have helped a lot in shaping the show, particularly with finding that line between an explicit narrative while also leaving enough space for audiences to insert their own interpretation.

What drew you to this repertoire?

I love late romantic repertoire above all for the musical form itself. Listening to Mozart is lovely, but every line is tied in a nice little bow of dominant-tonic cadences which feels very different to my experience of life. There aren’t neat episodes in life, but instead one event falls into the next and into the next and you might not find any resolution for a long time. The extended harmonies and long drawn out phrases of this romantic repertoire just speak to me so much more of real life experience. What’s more, singing this repertoire feels like slipping on an old glove that fits perfectly, whereas it tends to feel like a squeeze to fit my voice into earlier repertoire. Certain voices fit in certain places, and the long expansive lines of the Mahler feel natural to me. It was a very strange feeling the first time I ever sang any of this music, a sort of homecoming to a home I didn’t know I had, but which felt right.

Dream of Childhood's End looks at the loss of childhood in contemporary society. What are your thoughts on music as an opportunity for people to play in a world where our focus is on 'busyness' rather than taking the time to enjoy things?

Music gives us permission to do things that we don’t get to do in real life. Everything is deeper, the stakes are higher, the emotions all consuming, the palate is richer. It’s a place where any thought pushed aside by everyday life can come to fore, that we might wallow in it and explore its every facet. As life gets busier it is important to have these safe opportunities, to give ourselves permission to explore the deeper questions. I think that’s true of all art forms, but music has a way a moving beyond the limitations of language and expressing the inexpressible. Even though I’m singing words, the pitch, the dynamic, the accompaniment, all the musical elements add a greater meaning to it than the simple literal translation.

Fringe festivals tend to offer comedy, cabaret, and other music genre performances more frequently than classical music. What is it about this particular production, focusing on classical music, that makes it so suited to Fringe?

My favourite fringe festival experience was from a few years ago where I went to a dance performance. It took place in a tiny room which seated no more than 10 people. The two dancers were within a hands-width of my face. They danced on a sort of scaffold, a couple’s dance exploring different stages in a relationship. It was amazing, confronting, touching, and everyone left knowing they’d shared something intimate and unrepeatable. That is my perfect fringe experience. Yes, fringe often has comedy and cabaret elements, but that’s because those genres are very good at creating that intimate, edgy fringe feel. At its heart, I feel fringe is about something that breaks the mould, that’s a bit on the edge. That is certainly what we are doing in this production. It’s in no way a traditional lieder performance. There’s lots of moving and singing in amongst the audience. There’s talking to the audience. It has that in-your-face feel which is so vastly different to mainstream classical music, with its clear divide between audience and performer. The subject matter is also so contemporary, as a commentary on life in the early 21st century, that it is entirely fringe appropriate.

How would you recommend getting started with chamber music outside of university?

There is often a real feeling of division between singers and instrumentalists. At university, you might not see them much as you’re taking different electives. In opera, you do most of the rehearsal process without the orchestra. They might quickly introduce the singers at the Sitzprobe, but they won’t introduce all the orchestra members, and it’s at a point where your mind is 100% on the performance, so you never feel like you’ve bonded with orchestra members. OperaBox has been really trying over the last couple of shows to break down that divide, to have more social events with singers and orchestra together but it is hard.

With that in mind, I have to say that one of the best moments in producing this show was the day I had to call the instrumentalists. I had a spiel I’d come up with to explain who I was and how I knew them through whatever show we’d done together. Yet, as soon as I got them on the phone, I never needed to say it. They all knew exactly who I was, and were all eager to be involved. For me it was a bit of an epiphany that there shouldn't be a divide between instrumentalists and singers; we’re all musicians in it together and all wanting to find opportunities to challenge ourselves as artists. Once you have that mentality, then chamber music becomes no harder to organize than a small vocal ensemble. In terms of tips: Get to know the instrumentalists in any show you’re doing, as much as you can, and just ask them if they’re interested. You’ll be surprised!

This production is a clear example of musicians coming together, making their own opportunities in forging their musical careers. Do you have any tips for our readers who might be interested in doing this as well - any advice you wish you had before you started?

1. There’s no right or wrong time to do things. I used to feel bad that I wasn’t doing solo things when other people were, but it just wasn’t the right time for me personally. There’s no advantage to running before you can walk, and you can’t miss the boat so to speak, so just be ok with when you feel you’re ready.
2. Always take note of how other events are organised. Making your own musical opportunities is a combination of musical skill and organisational skill, and we’re often very good at having musical role models but not organisational ones. Join committees, notice the leadership behind different choirs and orchestras, ask questions of people, soak up all that experience as well so that when you come to do it yourself you’re not trying to reinvent the wheel.
3. Just ask people. The worst thing that can happen is someone says no, but then again they might say yes.
Treat people as you want to be treated. In the arts money is tight, and yet sometimes it is fellow artists who are lax on paying people. When you can, pay promptly, pay early, show other artists that you value them. That respect goes a long way.
What can audiences expect from this performance?

This show is an immersive experience. Come expecting beautiful music, but also expect that music to be all around you, right up close and powerful. Expect deep emotions. The show has moments for the audience to reflect on their own childhood, on their own loss, on how we all have that common suffering of leaving childhood behind, never to return. Expect to be taken on that emotional journal. Above all, expect to leave feeling that we have all shared this intimate experience together, never to be repeated.

In Conversation: Vincent Giles & Alice Bennett

What made you start the Tilde Music Festival, and what is the philosophy behind it?

At first it was a desire to offer something akin to, and loosely based on, the European festival/academy/summer courses (Darmstadt Ferienkurse für neue Musik being the most well-known), because such things were unavailable in Australia despite quite a healthy interest in new music amongst performers. But the culture is definitely different, and so is the art, so we grew to accommodate and represent the diversity of practice here in Australia, and so now we try to present a snapshot of active interest/practice within Australia (and a little beyond).

There are a few personal philosophies: the first is that the program is not 'curated', per se, rather it is aesthetically restricted and we accept applications from anybody. These applications are then peer-reviewed by a panel of between three and four people and ranked based on aesthetic suitability, logistics, and a few other things. This has a couple of implications: the first is that it's about as fair a system as we can create, because it removes potential programming and personal biases, which in turn tends toward reasonable gender equality to date (it has fluctuated in this regard, but sometimes this can't be helped). The other thing that this process allows is for new ideas to be tested out; they do not necessarily need to be complete at the time of application, and this can be very freeing for artists and very exciting for us. The second is that the festival, as we see it, exists for the scene/culture of art music in Australia, and is driven by those who are involved in that world in some form, making it very grass-roots and community-driven. The third thing is attempting to lower some of the perceived barriers to art music, and to bring it well out of the concert hall. We hope to change perceptions of how these works can be presented.

The Academy is a more recent addition to Tilde: why is it important to encourage young musicians to collaborate, and what are the highlights of the week this year?

The academy this year is now looking at being focussed on composition at a fairly high level. The academy was in fact one of the primary original motivations for starting Tilde in the first place, and is crucial to our long-term vision. The highlights this year are, for me at least, having composers Liza Lim and Chris Dench tutoring composition, with Liza doing one-on-one lessons and requesting that we donate her pay to the Asylum Seeker Resource Centre, which is absolutely wonderful. If your readers do not know either of these composers, then they should certainly investigate. I'm not a biographer of Chris, and have only known him a little while (though known of him for a number of years), but he is one of the first generation of British composers associated with what became known as "new complexity", though like any music of any kind, mass-categorisations like that do no justice to the work itself, which I find absolutely wonderful. Liza's music is equally wonderful, and utterly different, though I would (hesitantly) say that she draws upon a similar lineage -- at least in part -- in her work. Her work is rich and complex and dramatic, and I still quite strongly remember the two performances of her works by ELISION Ensemble at BIFEM, and more recently a solo KOTO performance of another of her works at the RMIT Gallery -- a more varied set of three works you could not ask for. It is wonderful to have such accomplished composers in one place over a week, offering whatever they can to our composition students.

The question of collaboration is an interesting and complex one. I'll have to speak as a composer rather than as an organiser, and please forgive the potentially rambling nature of my reply. The kind of trite and obvious answer is that collaboration is inescapable in a very literal way -- even if you play in a rock/pop/jazz/whatever band, and you feel as if you're not contributing to the song/music writing process, collaboration is necessary to actually make music in the first place, and the same is true with ensemble performance in art music. But collaboration as a composer and as an instrumentalist, I think, can take on some subtly different meanings, or perhaps implications. In my own work, and looking back in recent history, a lot of my favourite pieces have been composed for specific people and their idiosyncrasies with their instrument(s), and my least-favoured of my own works are kind of "generic" for certain instruments. This requires collaboration, because as a composer, I must come to know and understand a performer -- their tastes, their style, their musical ideas and interests, and their personal values -- in order to really understand how to write compelling music for them to play. This process often involves testing ideas out, to which the performer(s) might respond with suggestions, and so forth, which refines ideas. So while the ultimate shape and content of the piece is still the composer's, developing it is a collaborative effort. History would point to Berio's Sequenzas as a great example of exactly this. However, more thoroughly collaborative efforts are important, where composition may be more loose (structured/free improvisation, for example), and requires active participation by all performers/composers, and in such a situation, the role of performer/composer becomes irrelevant.

So, with that as an introduction: why is it important? To my mind, some of the best works in modern repertoire have been made with some degree of collaboration between composers and performers, and certainly more open approaches to group music-making is entirely a collaborative effort. While the Tilde Academy has some of this kind of collaborative work built in, this year a lack of performance enrolments has meant that we have had to make other arrangements. Nonetheless, collaborations between people foster a type of creativity that is not elsewhere available, and facilitating a space and time in which people from various disciplines can come and meet and discuss ideas and plan future collaborations or collaborate in the present or whatever, that is immensely valuable and will lead to, I dare say, much more great art being made.

2017 will see the fourth Tilde Festival - what have been some of the major learnings for you over the past years?

Relying on public funding is not the way forward for sustainable artistic practices. It's great if you can get it, but it is far too unstable, particularly amplified with the instability of our politics over the last six-to-ten years. The other, less cynical thing that has been of great learning for me (and Alice too, I would say) is solidifying personal philosophies that have wound their way throughout the festival. This is something that reflecting on the processes and what we value and how to make it happen and so on has allowed. Also trying to do everything gives you high blood pressure, but relinquishing control is sometimes impossible.

You do not specifically curate submissions for the Tilde Music Festival, so what is your process for putting together the program?

We use a peer review process. After review the applications are ranked, programmed, and revised down the list as applicants confirm/reject their involvement until the program is filled with confirmations. I should say too that applicants are required to submit various information about their proposed project/program, along with a CV, tech requirements, and so forth, prior to the review process.

What (and who!) can we expect to see in the upcoming festival?

Lots! I mentioned Laura Chislett earlier, she will be performing an hour-long recital of flute music from various composers, most of which is pretty gnarly and difficult stuff. Local violist Phoebe Green will be doing a long recital of equally difficult solo viola repertoire. There are a couple of installations/installation-like performances using computers and technology. There'll be a food truck. There's some electroacoustic work, some free improvisation, some less-free improvisation, all kinds of things. The program is huge -- I think from memory there will be about 24 performances over 12 hours. There are people coming from Queensland, New South Wales, South Australia, possibly New York. One of the things that has always excited me since we started doing it was the Tilde-specific collaborations, which is a separate call to the projects call, where we put together interested parties to make some work at short notice and present it. There'll be three or four of those on the day too, which all kinds of people! The website has the full lineup and all that kinda jazz. But there's no jazz...

For young musicians and composers interested in submitting a project for 2018, how do you recommend they get started putting together their ideas and planning their piece or installation?

2018 is under-wraps at the moment, so I'll answer in a specific sense and then in a more general sense. Regarding Tilde, the best thing to do is hop on our mailing list (at the bottom of our website), through which calls get announced. That and Facebook.

With regard to getting ideas together, planning a piece, and so on: If people are thinking of doing something for the festival it never hurts to get in touch with us directly outside of the calls to discuss things well ahead of schedule, particularly if not so confident with technical setup or the space or aesthetics. It has certainly been the case where we have rejected people not because of bad work (which thankfully is a very rare occurrence) but because it's very good work with completely the wrong aesthetic focus. So if in doubt, like with most things, just ask! And ask with plenty of time. The rest is really just about the idea though, we are open to proposals for unfinished ideas, especially because once accepted, there would be time to finish it, and personally I like things rough around the edges -- there's character there. The more information an artist has about a performance/space/etc. then the better-equipped they are to deal with it; for example, someone proposing a 48-channel immersive sound installation with 6 subwoofers in a completely dark space at midday in the middle of Australian January right next to City Rd in an open space? Not quite the right fit, and likely to have the council swoop down and kick Testing Grounds out due to Southbank being a residential area! Whenever an artist is dealing with an installation on-site, it's worth asking about site limitations.

But really, just do things! Ask for feedback if necessary, and then put in the proposal when the calls are up. I would like to mention that it is important to seem professional, so even if the idea is not fleshed out -- say that the idea is not fleshed out, but detail how you imagine it would work, what it's aesthetic and conceptual ideas are, that kind of thing. Be sure to have a suitable CV (something Alice and I really want to run a workshop on...), and try to remember that Tilde is a community organisation and not Rod Laver Arena with bajillions of dollars in funding (we have none).

In Conversation: Geoffrey Williams

What about songwriting as a method of storytelling interests you? What can song do that the written word cannot?

It's music that interests me. And that's an understatement! I seem to have an affinity with music. Music without words speaks to me, conveys emotion. It's the interplay of melody, harmony, the timbre of instruments that just does it for me. I remember as a kid, the songs I heard on the radio (yes, I'm that old!) created colours within me that words on their own didn't. The words then seemed incidental, a vehicle for the melody and harmony. But now I write, I realise that all elements of the song need to tell the same story - melody, harmony, and words. Having the extra element of words in the soup makes for a better flavour!

Do you find songwriting helps you express the things you can’t say, and how do you approach writing about personal experiences?

Not only songwriting but singing other people's songs helps me express things I can't say. Writing songs based on personal experience, which is the bulk of what I write, is an interesting and tricky process. Trying to be objective is very hard and I'm lucky that my partner is a musician and songwriter. She acts as a creative springboard, an extra pair of eyes and ears. I try to capture the feeling of what I want to express and add details that are true.

What is your songwriting process? How do you get started, and what comes first - music or lyrics?

There isn't enough space on your magazine to have the full answer to this question! Lol! It's so varied. I have created a 'Tap your Creativity - Lyric writing' course soon to be available on Udemy, which helps people to generate their own lyrics using tools and techniques that I have gathered through trial and error in my years in the music industry! So what comes first, music or lyrics for me? Either can come first, it depends what sets me off. Because I feel a natural affinity for creating melody I tend to spend more time crafting lyrics. I use a looper to work up ideas, improvising from an initial stimulus into a fuller arrangement and testing ideas on the fly. I love it!!

You’ve written about your understanding of failure for Roland – why is it important that artists fail, and how do you harness this experience in a positive way?

Trial and error is one of the most important factors that dictate any kind of growth or progression in our world. It's impossible to learn something without first making a hash of it, that's where you get an idea of the parameters and find what adjustments you need to make. Risk is one of the mothers of innovation. Seeing life and creativity as long sequences of experiments leaves you open for some wonderful 'mistakes' to happen!

In your recent performance with Boite - Windrush – a huge amount of people joined together to sing traditional and contemporary songs, and share in your story. What is it about singing that brings people together and helps build communities?

There's something special about singing together; finding where your voice fits in the communal harmony is very powerful. It's proven to be good for you. It's also lots of fun. The choirs that I run are 60% filled with laughter. Find and try out a local choir that has a similar age group, that sings material you like!

Can you bust a myth for us - do you have to be a “good” singer to join a choir? And if you’re not a confident singer, what else do you get out of joining a choir, and singing in a group?

Being a good singer is very useful for being in a choir. It often depends on what sort of choir you join. I run 2 community choirs and there are strong singers and not so strong singers. I've found that after a while of singing in a choir, the voices start to meld together. It's a great place for the not so confident singer to build more confidence. It can also broaden your social network.

You’re sharing your expertise in songwriting classes in the upcoming Boite Singers Festival. How do you encourage new songwriters to start their writing journey?

Well, as I see it, the only difference between me and a songwriter starting their writing journey is time. I've just been doing it longer. Persistence is important. Trial and error is important. Enjoyment is important. And if you want to write great songs, listen to great songs and let your yourself travel away to some distant land where your imagination can create.

In Conversation: Rhodri Clarke

Who, or what, has been a great musical influence in your life?

Two years after starting piano lessons, at the age of 10, I was invited to be a chorister in my local village church choir in (old) South Wales. In the same year, the choirmaster, knowing I was a piano student, offered me the opportunity to take organ lessons with the church organist, a lady called Dorothea Packwood. On our first meeting, she was 89 years of age. Despite her considerable and understandable frailty, she gave me a solid foundation in organ technique and was particularly rigorous about legato playing and articulation on the organ. A couple of years into our lessons, she sadly passed away; the previous year, the Queen awarded her an MBE – she had been organist of the church for 70 years that year. Following her death, I was asked by the church to be the joint organist of the church which meant playing every Sunday evening or morning most Sundays of the year. As I used to play hymns, anthems and psalms accompanying the choir, as well as solo organ music before, during and after the service, it gave me wonderful experience in choral accompaniment, following a conductor and playing in front of an audience. The year after, I began playing for weddings and funerals at the church, which at the time I found incredibly nerve-wracking but gave me enormous confidence as I increasingly found I could control the nerves. I don’t think I ever ruined anyone’s special day.

What composers or musical situations do you most enjoy? Do you prefer to play alone, or with people?

I love all forms of piano ensemble work, whether it be an instrumental duo, trio, lieder, opera accompaniment, so I suppose I have a preference for this work over solo playing. There wasn’t really a point at which I decided this but I have always been passionate about the collaborative forms of piano playing. The question I have never been able to answer is whether I prefer or would specialise in working with singers over instrumentalists or vice versa. For me, I love getting to know new repertoire and also working on multiple styles/genres simultaneously. Being able to rehearse a Beethoven cello sonata, Ibert Flute Concerto, some Schumann lieder, teach my student a Bartok piano piece then dash across town to perform Brahms' violin concerto is a great day. I don’t think I’d want to lose any element of that.

What were your first experiences of accompanying?

As I mentioned above, around the age of 11 or 12, playing for church services, weddings and funerals as a church organist was my first experience accompanying. While the repertoire was not always the most demanding, playing the organ really does put one’s multitasking skills to the test, with feet pedals, changing pistons, pulling out stops, often with one hand crossing the other on an upper/lower keyboard. All this before you think about playing in time, watching the conductor, leading the singers... I suppose it also gave me the first understanding that leading is just as important as following when it comes to accompanying. As a later organ teacher said to me, referring to the congregation when playing hymns, “listen to them and you’re stuffed!”

On piano, my first experiences were in high school where I did a huge amount of accompanying. As well as regularly playing for the Junior and Senior choirs, from the first year of high school, I was invited, and always accepted, to play for the school drama productions, performing the role (I later realised) of repetiteur. Around the age of 15, somehow my school arranged for me to shadow the repetiteur at Welsh National Opera for their Madame Butterfly production. They even let me play for a rehearsal although I felt overwhelmingly out of my depth.

Are there differences in the ways you approach a score, depending on whether you are playing alone or in an ensemble?

As I spend so much of my time accompanying and playing chamber music, it’s probably fair to say that this influences the way I look at any score, whether it’s a solo piece, an instrumental duo, concerto with orchestral accompaniment or lieder. Even when I’m learning/performing solo repertoire, I tend to still view the work as an ensemble; there just happens to be one person guiding the music, rather than two or more. This opens many possibilities for shaping the musical narrative, creating interesting tone colours and textures. So, I don’t think there are necessarily differences in my approach because a work happens to be a solo work. It’s more that each work will bring particular challenges which each need to be approached in a particular way. An example that springs to mind is the accompaniment of Schubert’s Erlkönig which needs something like an Olympic training regime to build up the stamina for the undulating right-hand octaves. But, going back to the question, the one big difference between solo and ensemble repertoire would be the practice process. For solo repertoire, the practice time is also your rehearsal time and you can make creative decisions in a unilateral way. For ensemble repertoire, as well as your personal practice time, you have the rehearsal process itself, which requires you as a performer to have great flexibility in your approach to tempo, dynamics, phrasing, musical interpretation etc. as well as being as prepared as you can be for the rehearsal. Something that worked well in your practice may need tweaking, altering or throwing out altogether once you’ve rehearsed with the other players. I believe it’s a vital part of collaboration to have the ability to constantly reevaluate your musical ideas and interpretation. Even if you believe very strongly in a particular idea or interpretation, you owe it to your fellow musician to try out their ideas and experiment.

What advice do you have for students who are interested in getting started accompanying?

Do lots of listening to recordings. Always follow the score as you listen. This will help you to get to know the piece as a whole both in terms of the harmony, solo/instrumental part and structurally. Listen to the accompaniment part and notice how the vocal/instrumental line is being supported.

Sight reading - In the beginning, choose repertoire which is manageable (classical sonatas and concertos for example).

Simplify writing for orchestral reductions. You don’t need to play all the double octaves. Use a recording to understand the sounds/colours you are trying to recreate from the orchestral part. Very often it’s appropriate to leave out whole lines, or simplify patterns to make them less technically awkward etc. Sometimes playing all the notes, even if you can, will sound way too cluttered for the orchestral sound the composer had in mind.

Sing (yes, sing) the vocal/instrumental line at the same time as playing your part. Choral singing can be very helpful with this. At first, singing while playing is challenging but absolutely worth the effort. Develop the technique of “living through” the solo/instrumental part so that you have the sense it is playing constantly in your head as you play the accompaniment. A good way to start this process is to play that part with your right together with the harmonies or bass line in the LH. Knowing the solo part as well as possible is vital for effective accompanying.

Balance and shading – notice how the timbre/projection of the instrument/voice changes in high/middle/low registers. These things may influence your dynamic range, which parts you leave out, phrase shapes etc. The age old question “Am I too loud” should be ever present, but I prefer to think in terms of support i.e. am I giving the right support at any particular moment, whether it be a stronger bass, softer treble, clear phrasing to support the vocal phrasing etc. Think of your accompaniment as an ever-changing organism, continually adapting to the contour of the music.

Do you have any pre-concert rituals, or does it change depending on the circumstances of the performance?

I hate to be so conventional but it’s usually bananas. At least two (especially for longer performances).

One of my unwanted rituals is to roam the concert hall searching for a chair of lowest possible height. I know it sounds ridiculous but I sit as low as it’s possible to sit at the piano and a normal piano stool rarely winds low enough. I’m sure people think I’m crazy but at least I’m in the category of Glenn Gould, if only in that one respect.

I do two things which usually help. Firstly, lying flat on my back doing stretches and then lying still for a while.

Also, if there’s a piano in the warm up room I have a strange habit of picking a song (usually a very cheesy pop song) which has nothing to do with the music I’m about to perform and busking my way through that. “I will survive” is the one that springs to mind but it really could be anything. Most likely this wouldn’t work for everyone and may even be totally catastrophic if you try it, but I find it puts me in a relaxed frame of mind and clears my mind of anything negative.

What is the hardest thing about being an associate artist, and how do you deal with that?

Undoubtedly for me, it’s the constant balancing act of time management. Although there are many challenges (musical, artistic, administrative), I find I have to be constantly vigilant with planning my schedule to ensure there is sufficient time to learn/practise repertoire, especially getting to know the work as a whole rather than just the accompaniment. Also, planning time to fit in practice and rehearsals when there are multiple projects coinciding can be very challenging. The most important thing for me is never to compromise the level of preparation for any one project so that I can always offer the best possible musical experience to the particular musician I’m working with. Getting this balance right has been a long learning curve right back from my school/student days. Learning to say no is vital.

What have been some career highlights for you, as a collaborative artist or vocal coach?

During my final years of study at RCM in London, I was incredibly fortunate to be invited to join a group of Venezuelan musicians through an English cellist friend of mine who also played in the group. The chamber ensemble was called Bolivar Soloists and specialised in original arrangements of Latin-American music from Venezuela, Brazil and Argentina. Over the course of six years, as well as becoming close friends we performed together in the UK, France, Germany, Austria and Spain. As well as being highly trained classical musicians, they were also amazing improvisers and taught me an incredible amount about the folk traditions of Latin-American music and the complexity of the diverse, exotic rhythms from that part of the world. The highlight came in 2010 when we were invited by the Mexican tenor Rolando Villazon, to record a disk of Mexican folk songs for Deutsche Grammophon, and to undertake a promotional tour of Mexico; a huge honour and wonderful experience.

In 2007, as part of a tour with a Welsh male voice choir, I performed at Carnegie Hall. In that concert, I accompanied the great bass-baritone Bryn Terfel. It was very special to meet and perform with him, particularly in such a prestigious venue.

Through Bolivar Soloists, I was introduced to the double bassist Edicson Ruiz, who has to be the most gifted musician I ever met. Edicson became a member of the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra at the age of 17, a fact which still astounds me. Another career highlight is a recital I gave with Edicson at the Berlin Philharmonie which included a piece composed by Efrain Oscher, the leader of Bolivar Soloists, double bass concerti and piano solos by Ginastera and Liszt.

How important is it to connect with the person you are performing with, off stage?

Honestly, I find it much easier to perform with musicians I like and can connect well with outside the rehearsal/concert situation. This is especially true for me in chamber music where having a rapport with your fellow musicians is so beneficial for being able to create a sense of fun, spontaneity and symbiosis. When you don’t have that, of course you have to always be professional. You cannot possibly click with everyone you meet, but in my view, there’s no substitute for a natural respect and spirit of friendship. It’s easy for the audience to see when this is happening.

You play for both instrumentalists and singers of extraordinarily high calibre. Is there a marked difference between how you work with singers, from how you work with instrumentalists?

In the case of how I work with musicians in general, the keyword is adaptability. It’s possible that there are differences in the approach with singers and instrumentalists but as there are so many other variables from situation to situation, for me the lines are usually quite blurred. It usually comes down to how much the spirit of collaboration is there and your approach varies depending on that.

While at university, piano students must practice technical work, and a heavy repertoire for examination. How would you recommend working in accompanying practice amongst that?

Firstly it’s about organisation. For any skill in life, it will usually only improve if you devote regular time to it. Even if it’s a small fraction of the time you spend on solo repertoire, it has to always part of your regular practice schedule if you want it to improve. Also be realistic about the repertoire you choose if time is an issue.

Know that accompaniment is an important part of your piano training. Many of the techniques you practise when accompanying inform and support your solo playing. For example, developing the ability to think harmonically through the piece, sight reading, absolute rhythmical integrity and understanding breathing to help with phrasing, breathing at the start etc.

University is filled with opportunities to accompany: informal recitals, your friends who play other instruments, choral groups. Arrange informal get-togethers with your friends and play through repertoire. Sheet music is so easy to get hold of. Many instrumentalists and singers love having the opportunity to try things with piano and you’ll learn a lot very quickly. Hands on experience as often as possible will help not only with your piano accompanying but your overall musicianship and listening skills. In terms of fluency, it’s good to prioritise clear rhythm and not stopping i.e. leave out notes if necessary.

As I mentioned above, listening to recordings/concerts and paying attention to how others accompany is a great way to learn. You can tie in with your own solo concerto repertoire by learning the accompaniment for your concerto, recording it, then play along with yourself.

What repertoire is on your bucket list at the moment? What would you love the opportunity to play?

Solo repertoire-wise, in a more popular vein, it would be Rachmaninoff’s Third Piano Concerto. This year, I’m performing it (as the orchestra) in the 2 piano version with David Helfgott in several European cities and would love the opportunity to perform the solo part with an orchestra.

Also, I’ve always been drawn to the music of Messiaen, initially through his organ music, but have always wanted to learn the gigantic Vingt regards sur l’enfant Jésus. It’s a fascinating set of 20 scenes which represent a massive achievement in 20th Century piano writing.

Chamber music-wise, it would be all the Beethoven piano trios I haven’t performed, which is embarrassingly too many of them.

Vocally, I would love to work on Oedipus Rex, an incredible work from Stravinsky’s neoclassical period.

In Conversation: Jakab Kaufmann

Jakab Kaufmann is a successful bassoonist from Sydney now based in Europe. He trained as an orchestral musician and a conductor in Sydney before moving to Basel where he studied early music at the renowned Schola Cantorum Basiliensis. Now living in Bern, he has established himself as a freelance musician working with ensembles and orchestras in Switzerland, Germany and the UK, playing on both modern and historical instruments. One of his upcoming ventures is a new, innovative production of Rameau’s Pygmalion with his colleagues in the London-based Ensemble Molière. James Hancock from the Tait Memorial Trust asked him about his work and this exciting new project.

How does an orchestral musician make the leap to specialising in early music, particularly after studying to be a conductor?

While I was studying conducting at the Sydney Conservatorium, I was asked to play baroque bassoon for the early music ensemble’s performance of Gluck’s “The Pilgrims to Mecca.” I’d never played this instrument before and I thought it sounded horrible, but once I braved the potential embarrassment of playing in front of other people I discovered the incredible resonance within an ensemble. I started playing more and more and learned to love the difficulties of playing such a different instrument. There seemed to be so much to learn and enjoy from playing music on an instrument so distantly related to the one I’d previously dedicated my life to.

Like so many Australian musicians you decided to move overseas. I am interested to know why you chose Switzerland? Was it your first choice?

I decided a long time ago that I wanted to move to the German-speaking world and in 2011, I attended a summer school at the Humboldt University in Berlin. I spent a month there improving my German and I still have a soft spot for that city. My path changed however and while I still entertain the idea of returning to conducting someday, my goal quickly refocused on being a well-rounded musician in whatever form it took. I flew to Europe in 2013 and travelled around, doing masterclasses on both modern and baroque bassoons, and visiting different teachers until I decided Basel and its famous Schola were perfect for me. It’s a very international school with a great balance of academic research and performance-based projects. The community is very positive and creative, which lead to some great friendships and fantastic opportunities.

The UK can be quite a distant world to the continent without the right connections. How did you begin to work here?

I attended the Dartington International Summer School’s Baroque Orchestra Programme with a scholarship in 2013. The environment there is so open and relaxed that it’s conducive to amazing opportunities. I made friends with many different musicians there, including established professional musicians who have been able to organise projects with me. In addition to various audition processes, I’ve also reconnected with a lot of friends from Sydney who have moved to the UK. The life of a freelance musician is very much dependent on who you know, and luckily, some lovely people have helped me get my name out there.

As a founding member of the young early music group Ensemble Molière, could you tell me about your work and the repertoire you play?

We first played together in this combination in 2014 at the Dartington International Summer School, and the first piece we played was the “Deuxième récréation de musique” by Jean-Marie Leclair. That experience made us realise that we worked well as an ensemble and that we all wanted to play more French music. Since then we’ve gone on to perform concerts in Brighton, Graz, Bruges and Utrecht, as well as more regular concerts in London. We were lucky enough to participate in the Brighton Early Music Festival’s Early Music Live! Scheme in 2015 and we were invited to return for our own concert in the 2016 Festival. We’ve expanded our repertoire and recorded our music, and we’re always looking for opportunities to push the boundaries of the modern-concert programme.

French music retains an element of mystery today, and I was curious as to why you think we don’t see enough of it on today’s concert programmes?

When you study music in English and German-speaking schools, French music before Debussy rarely gets a look in. The truth is, Paris has played a more important role in music than Vienna or London at various points throughout history. For example, in the Middle Ages, the French-speaking world was essentially the musical centre of Europe. That changed with the printing press, the migration of Netherlandish musicians to Italy, and of course, the reformation. However, the French court at Versailles was an incredible force for artistic support and the “French Baroque” led to some of the most unique music this world has ever known. Because of the rivalry with the Italians and the influence of kings like Louis XIV, French musicians played very different instruments in a very different way. The wind instruments were built in another way, the string players used different bows, and the keyboard instruments had their own designs. The performers would also use very individual ornaments, which some composers like Couperin took the time to write down with full explanations. The music itself is sometimes harmonically dissimilar to the German high-baroque masters that people tend to think of and it can also feel more static than the repetitive patterns of the Venetians like Vivaldi. I think this is why performers have, in the past, neglected the nuanced and delicate sounds of France. The good news is that French music is constantly being rediscovered!

Your upcoming project at festivals in London and Brighton will see a new take on French Opera. Could you tell me a bit about the project’s background?

As our first large-scale project, we wanted to explore a genre that is not commonly addressed by chamber groups but is incredibly important to the French Baroque: Opera. Rameau’s greatest contributions to music include his solo keyboard works, his theoretical writings and his many operas. The forces required to perform them are so large that most opera companies don’t stage his works too often. As a result, his music doesn’t get heard often enough. We thought we would bring one of his shorter operas, at 45 minutes, to the people through a more accessible medium with a smaller ensemble on stage. Rameau’s Pygmalion is based on the original Greek legend of a sculptor who falls in love with his own creation. Most people today would be more familiar with the George Bernard Shaw version which came much later, and led to the even-more-popular “My Fair Lady.” We’ve teamed up with artist Kate Anderson and director Karolina Sofulak to present a live performance of the opera with animation and simplified surtitles, so as to make it accessible and enjoyable for everyone.

I would be interested to know about what stage the project is in? What are your plans for such an ambitious undertaking, how are they progressing and how can audiences help?

We’re still at the funding stage which is looking very promising. We will be applying to the Arts Council for a grant to make the project happen once we’ve secured enough funding from other sources. We’ve started a crowdfunding campaign to collect an initial investment of £3000 by 9th January. This would show the Arts Council that we have support from both the artistic and wider community for this project. We’ve been offering rewards ranging from Thank-You tweets right up to private concerts in peoples’ homes. If you’d like to contribute, the crowdfunding site with a video explaining the project can be found here: http://www.crowdfunder.co.uk/ensemble-moliere. Any help is always appreciated as we’re very passionate about getting this project off the ground and onto the stage.

Sydney Chamber Opera's Renaissance Polymath

The tormented life of famed Renaissance mathematician, physician and astrologer Girolamo Cardano is the subject of Sydney Chamber Opera’s newest opera Biographica, with the concept and music by acclaimed Australian composer Mary Finsterer and libretto by Tom Wright. Cardano, who is known for his book Ars magna (The Great Art; or, The Rules of Algebra) which is an integral text in the history of mathematics, has an equally fascinating personal life away from his medical prowess - including jail time for a heresy accusation, the loss of his teaching position and the execution of his son. Jack Symonds, SCO’s artistic director and the conductor of Biographica, explains that the “the fundamental question for all productions is ‘why is this an opera, rather than another form of story telling?’, and the answer for this particular work is that the story of this brilliant Renaissance man would not be the same without music”. Specifically, without Mary’s music - which combines technique and palette from the Renaissance period with modern extended technique and instrumentation, telling the story of a unique genius in a way befitting to his character: of his era, but timeless. The larger thematic devices found in the libretto, ideas of immortality, fate and wealth, are operatic from the first, and Mary’s music helps portray Cardano as more than just a historical figure, which is what this story could be like without the music, according to Symonds: “This is not a history lesson, it’s an understanding of the period as Cardano saw his own life.” An imaginative and vibrant score is fitting for the complex life lived by this exceptional figure. Symonds “cannot think of illustrating a historical figure” without this type of care towards the music of their era. Opera offers something to bold and eccentric stories that other platforms cannot: the music suspends your belief, and lets you imagine how life was in the eyes of the protagonist played out on the stage in front of you.

This particular story has been playing on composer Mary Finsterer’s mind for longer than SCO have been around. “I knew she was writing the piece”, says Symonds, “and so we started discussions on the finer details - how many singers and instrumentalists we’d use. This piece could be remade for any scale, it’d work as a grand opera and it’d work as a one man show. We’ve hit somewhere in the middle, with five singers, an actor and eleven instrumentalists.” The players in question include some of Australia’s finest vocal talents as well as new music champions, Ensemble Offspring. “The sound world of Biographica could only be contemporary, and Mary has taken full advantage of the extensive skill set of the Ensemble. She’s included specific extended technique, but also given the instrumentalists the space to live within a comfortable tonal world”, explains Symonds. “There is unique balance in this work between gestures and harmonic ideas from the Renaissance period in which the story is set, and a feeling of pushing musical boundaries”.

Despite the small cast, this story involves “lots of characters”, which makes the whole work feel “quite epic”! When putting together a brand new opera, from Symonds’ experience, the process can go one of two ways: “The first is where every little detail is on the page, or alternatively when the composer presents a bit more of a blank canvas - where there is scope and room for singers to become the characters, and create their stories”. The latter is how the process for Biographica has presented itself, and across the five-week rehearsal and production period, each creative was given the opportunity to grow and become the parts they embody. “One of the most exciting parts of this kind of compositional approach is that you get the opportunity to see the singers become the people they are playing, using their instinct and intuition. Mary has also been extremely encouraging of the singers to add their own ornamentation and explore the breadth of their individual characters, musically”. The singers themselves - Jane Sheldon, Simon Lobelson, Andrew Goodwin, Anna Fraser and Jessica O’Donoghue - “come from different musical backgrounds, but each have the fascination with and the ability to perform new music without being specifically locked into the contemporary repertoire.” They are each “exceptional actors, as well, and have become the Renaissance characters wholeheartedly”. Mary’s writing involves tightly-woven quintets for the singers, so “much of the learning process is them not only becoming the people they’re portraying, but becoming a unit - something that requires flexibility, and an understanding of several genres.” Leading Australian actor Mitchell Butel portrays Cardano in a speaking role - a new challenge for the Sydney Chamber Opera, taken on by theatre director Janice Muller in her first opera production. “She has developed so many new works, so she absolutely understands what it means to bring things to life for the first time, and knows the reality that things need to be thrown out and reworked multiple times”, says Symonds. “Producing a new opera has a lot of elements and it can be unruly work. Things change daily, and Janice has an amazing way of dealing with the seemingly ever-changing terrain of a new work. It’s been incredibly insightful.”

The priority of Sydney Chamber Opera since its debut production of Symonds’ Notes From The Underground in 2011, is to “balance new Australian composition and production with an interesting selection of international opera to showcase the place that contemporary opera production has in the world”. The company has quickly developed a name for innovative and industrious programming, attracting a fresh audience to the world of opera. Now residents at Carriageworks, who are known for championing a diverse range of contemporary works, SCO’s voice is encouraging the growth of Australian opera. The mission of the company is to give a good breadth and representation of where chamber opera is in the world, highlighted by the fact that their 2017 season involves this epic world premiere by Finsterer alongside a work that epitomises 20th century chamber opera - Britten’s The Rape of Lucretia. They are also developing several new works to be premiered in 2018.

Appearing as part of the Sydney Festival, Biographica promises to thrust its audience into the mind of an exceptional man, accompanied by music that speaks from him directly - “music reflecting the piercing beauty of the Renaissance much like maniera painting: rich, florid, bold.”

From The Organ Loft: On 2016 by Edwin Kwong

The year of 2016 is rapidly drawing to a close, and I thought it would be appropriate to reflect on some of the things I’ve learnt throughout this year and offer some (hopefully good) advice from my experiences.

January

For much of January, I was travelling overseas and got to play a number of different pipe organs in that time. Each encounter was enriching in its own way, and I’m grateful to have had the opportunity for those experiences. However, much of that would not have happened had I not reached out to a number of different organists, some of whom I’ve never met before, and asked to have some playing time on their instruments.

Takeaway of the month: If you want to make something happen, just give it a shot! The worst that can happen is that it doesn’t pan out – which is the same outcome as if you didn’t try at all. In the infamous words of Shia LaBeouf, just do it…

July

I performed in Wellington, New Zealand at the end of July, in the Cathedral of St Paul. The cathedral possesses a wonderful and historical instrument, having existed in various forms since the late 19th Century. Coupled with the cavernous acoustic of the building meant that making music there was an absolute delight. Sadly, that instrument there was greatly damaged in the recent earthquakes in New Zealand, and the exact instrument that I played will unfortunately never be heard again, at least in the same context.

Takeaway of the month: Value every chance you get to play music, publically or privately – whilst my example is on the extreme end of things, you never know what life might throw at you next.

August

I was asked to perform at the Melbourne Town Hall for a solo concert in mid-August and had to think long and hard in planning my concert programme. Striking a balance between performing works that you enjoy, showing off your skills/your instrument, maintaining musical integrity, as well as entertaining your audience is not easy by any means! But I believe all of those are important factors when planning any recital, and must be considered carefully.

Takeaway of the month: To varying degrees, musicians are always entertainers in some form – keep that in mind when you perform, and your audience will probably like you!

October

During this month, I somehow ended up playing for five funerals and two weddings in three weeks. It would be unheard of for anyone planning such important events to not include music within them – the reason of course is that music provides comfort and joy to people at all stages of life. Whilst events such as funerals and weddings are obvious examples, perhaps even a recording of you performing a piece of music online might provide these feelings to someone who might have stumbled upon it by accident one day.

Takeaway of the month: Do really make every note and every phrase count when you play – it might not always matter to everyone, but it could to someone, and that enough is reason to give it your best effort!

December

As a church organist, the period from the end of November until late December is, inevitably, incredibly busy due to the Advent and Christmas rush. From the beginning of Advent until Christmas Day, I organised and played for 11 different services, and it was without a doubt exhausting! But in the midst of that hectic period, when it would have been easy to go into auto-pilot mode and just get it over and done with, one particular moment really stood out and reminded me that what I’m doing really is an incredible privilege.

In the arrangement by Sir David Willcocks of the final verse of the famous hymn “Hark! the Herald Angels Sing”, there’s a particularly spicy diminished chord at the beginning of the phrase “Word of the father” – despite having played the hymn for the umpteenth time by Christmas Day, that particular chord without fail, gave me tingles down the spine every single time!

Takeaway of the month: It’s simple - find something that gives you tingles down the spine too, and do that thing!

Of course, it’s easy to theorise about these things, but none of it can happen without all the background hard work that we all need to do, no matter how young or old we are. So, consider that my message for all the other months I didn’t write about: put your head down, and work, but have fun whilst you’re at it!

In conclusion, thank you all so much for reading my various musings in From the Organ Loft in the past year. I hope it has been informative, or perhaps thought provoking, or maybe even funny (as you chuckle at my geeky obsession with the wonderful instrument that is the pipe organ). Have a wonderful 2017, and I hope to see you at an organ recital at some point next year!

In Conversation: Carl Vine

Do you think that your compositional background influences the way you approach your roles as Artistic Director at Musica Viva and the Huntington Estate Music Festival?

I definitely think of every concert as a composition that needs to take the audience on a journey, but that approach is available to everyone - not just composers. Programs for Viva’s International Concert Season necessarily require a good deal of input from the performers, and my job for these programs is more to ensure consistency of content than to “design” programs from the foundation up. However when I devise programs for the Musica Viva Festival, or the Huntington Festival, I really get a chance to create cohesive concert experiences, and my compositional training is definitely useful.

Musica Viva recently launched the Hildegard Project - what is special about this initiative, and why is it so necessary in our current artistic climate?

In 2016, male composers represented by the Australian Music Centre outnumbered female composers by three to one. There is no reasonable explanation for this disparity except an arbitrary gender stereotyping of the profession. The Hildegard Project aims to attack the stereotype by enhancing commissioning and performance opportunities for female composers.

You are one of Australia's most celebrated composers, with an incredible output. What keeps you inspired?

I am inspired by the music of others, and by the way that audiences derive sustenance from music they haven’t heard before. The whole process of making music verges on the mystical, and if a composer can’t be inspired by that then they should find another job!

How has the composition scene changed in Australia during your career, and how can young composers harness the system to make it work for them?

When I started out 40 years ago the support from the Federal Government for all of the arts, including composition, was many times greater than it is today, and there was a horde of opportunities that simply don’t exist any more. Society in general is now infinitely more focused on commercial activity, at the expense of interest in “fine” art, and young composers must carefully consider the clear division between creating original music and having a sustainable career. It seems that the chance of uniting the two is increasingly unlikely.

What are your thoughts on composition competitions and their necessity in promoting developing composers?

I’ve never done well at composition competitions, so they haven’t been much use to me. But if the competition is a good one, with a well-respected jury and some concrete professional performance opportunities at the other end, then this can only be good for your career.

What advice do you wish you'd received about creating a career out of composition when you were starting out?

Occasionally I regret not having spent more time studying overseas and establishing stronger links with musical environments in different parts of the world. But if I’d done that then I would have missed many of the most formative periods of my life, and would not be the composer I now am. My advice to others is to write music that you are passionate about, and work out how to survive afterwards.

Double Depresso Excerpt: Susan de Weger by Ben Turner

I am chatting with Susan De Weger, a horn player originally from Queensland. You studied horn at the Queensland Con, and the reason why I thought you would be a great guest is you've done a variety of different things in your career so far, and you're a big advocate for things like innovation and entrepreneurship and you've worked all around the world with a variety of different projects. What are some of the projects you've done overseas before you came back to Australia?

Well, the reason that I'm interested in helping musicians find new pathways and new ways to lead flourishing lives is because I was a musician who had to leave music at the end of my undergraduate degree. I was completely locked down into thinking the conservatory was the end point and something magical would happen when I graduated, and like for most of us this was not the case, so I ended up moving out of music altogether and having a business career because I was never going to win a job in an orchestra. I'm a competent player, but the commitment and talent and sole focus it takes to be at that level was not who I was, and not who I am today. So I couldn't see any other pathways for me - the only thing that the music school presented as a success or an outcome out of my training was a job in an orchestra, and that wasn't going to happen for me. So I ended up walking away from music because I couldn't see any way forward. I began working in a big Tool Event Management company here in Australia, which was still a very creative job that pulled on the things that I'm good at like communicating with people and organising. Then I moved to the UK with my husband - he's in IT and had a very successful consulting business here in Australia. We moved to England for me to do my Tool Management job, but we could see that there was a bit of gap in the market for the sort of business he had here in Australia. So I jumped across and helped him grow that business. I was general manager of the business, which looks after all the back-end of the business, and he managed the front-end. He had all the credentials on the software that the clients wanted to see and then I ran the back-end of the business, and we grew that to a pretty successful enterprise over a couple of years. All that time I hid the fact that I was a musician.

What was that experience like?

It was really challenging! It was a period of 16 years where I was really conflicted about what my musical identity was, because my story was that I'd failed because I didn't get the job in the orchestra, so there were very few people I spoke to at that time when I wasn't being involved in music who I was open to about the fact that I was a degree-qualified musician. That was a really tough time actually, just keeping that locked down - the self-belief and identity that I am a musician. It's who I am but it's not what I'm doing right now. That was a really challenging period of about a decade and a half. And then we sold the business in England and came back to Australia with our young family, and at that point I really needed to work out who I was and what had happened to me because I just couldn't continue to live a life where my musical story was that I was a failure. I just couldn't live with that anymore! Because I had had success in other areas of my life, and I thought, I know how to apply some of the skills I've got to do different things, so what happened with music? Am I really just a rubbish horn player?

It's interesting, those thoughts, because they're something that's prevalent in music education. The dialogue around having those thoughts and talking about the reality of pursuing a career in the performing arts field - what should I think about this? What are the thoughts that I should be having if I want to move away into another field?

Is it okay for me to think about not being a performer? There are two thoughts out of that, one that musicians aren't just performers - all musicians do many things, though we only see the performance part. And that it's okay to train as a musician and derive your income doing something else and still call yourself a musician! We don't see that story being put in front of us very often. But there's lots and lots of very high-level musicians with day jobs as doctors and engineers and they are very fulfilled as musicians, and they are in control of their creative output and their involvement. Those who are struggling to try and carve out a full-time performance career are often not connected to the joy of their music - they're taking gigs that are not that satisfying because they "need the money", and so I see a real disconnect between those who are deriving their creative success out of high level music making and those who are really struggling to find a sense of balance between great creative output and internal satisfaction about the 'who am I and what am I doing', and control over what they're doing too! In a full-time freelance professional life there's often little control in having to take everything...

Exactly - you have to pay the rent and the bills are coming in...

Right, and instead of building that ownership of your creative output you're forced into taking everything. I have a rule of thumb for gigs: it's got to be great people, great charts or great money and if it does two of those three things it means I'm really happy, and very occasionally it's three of those three things! If it was all about the money, as in being paid to play equals success then I'd be taking a load of gigs that aren't very satisfying and wouldn't make me feel good. Having come back as a mature student and doing a graduate performance degree in my 40s, I've been able to work through this and think well what does being a professional musician look like for me? Am I going to be able to build income streams to support myself and my family? How am I going to be creatively satisfied? How am I going to have a good impact on the people around me and be a positive musician who is really happy and excited every time they pick up their instrument?

You mentioned that you came back to study the horn in your forties in Melbourne at the Melbourne Conservatorium of Music, and alongside that I noticed you have a sentence on your website that says you're "healing your musical identity". What did you mean by that in relation to studying again?

When I came back to Australia, like I said, I needed to work out and unravel what had happened. When I finished my undergraduate studies I kind of slammed a door on Susan as a musician and I needed to work out who I was. Am I a musician and what's that going to mean? I had let two people's verdict on my playing on one day be my internal story about who I was. I let them telling me I was no good be the truth and I couldn't live with that anymore - I needed to own it again and be able to say success for me is this and I control it, rather than let success for me be something uncontrollable like winning a job, because there are too many variables in that. So it was a long process over that eighteen months of working out all the inner work. What does success mean for me? How am I going to balance high-level creative output with deriving an income? Because it's difficult to live indoors and eat food from playing your instrument. We're a small country, we only have eight full-time orchestras, it's pretty hard going! So I'm not going to be able to connect my sense of fulfilment as a musician or my success to other people booking me a gig.

In Conversation: Peter Knight, Australian Art Orchestra

Nicole Lizée is known for bringing pop and music video cultures into the concert halls often reserved for Western “Art Music”, and audiences of many genres are drawn to her work. What is it about her art that keeps her from being pinned into one genre, and makes it so engaging for all audiences?

Nicky always seems to be working into the spaces where genres and disciplines meet, and so am I, which is probably why this is a fruitful partnership. Her work is influenced by so many things but the result always sounds like a personal mode of expression – a synthesis of influences rather than a ‘mash-up’. I think that’s one of the things that really distinguishes her as an artist.

This concert is a response to the screen culture of the 80s and 90s – what captivates you about the videos of this period? How do they translate today?

Well, I grew up in the 80s and 90s, it doesn’t feel like that long ago to me. Some of these videos (particularly the pop ones from Karappo Okesutura) feel like old long lost friends, and others really make me cringe! But apart from those kind of historical associations, I think what’s interesting about Nicole’s treatment of these materials is that she asks us to notice things we probably wouldn’t otherwise see (or hear). There’s something quite tender and intimate in her responses and she mediates our experience of them. It’s very different from just watching an old episode of Twin Peaks for example.

Why do you think audiences are drawn to concerts that play on nostalgia for periods like the 80s and 90s? Do you see genuine engagement, tongue-in-cheek appreciation of “kitsch”, or something else entirely?

I think another of Nicole’s extraordinary abilities is that she is able to be kind of light but also very serious. And I don’t really think she is being tongue-in-cheek or just ironic much at all. There is nostalgia there I guess but more than that I think she really finds the beauty, interest and structure in these songs, videos and movies. I think she is driven by a genuine interest in them, she finds things in them that really fascinate her and then she communicates that through her music.

Sex, Lynch and Video Games sees you collaborate with exciting Canadian pianist Eve Egoyan. How do you choose who you collaborate with, and what comes first – the program, or the artist?

In the case of Eve, we wanted to program David Lynch Etudes and Eve was the commissioner. Someone suggested we include her in the program and it was a case of wonderful happenstance.

Egoyan is called “an artist whose medium is the piano”. This description seems like an appropriate way to describe the entire Australian Art Orchestra, as artists whose mediums are their instruments. What are your priorities in regards to bringing new art to audiences?

Well, that’s a really nice observation because it does align with what I’m trying to achieve with the AAO, so it’s great that it comes across like that. And we have pulled together an absolutely amazing group of musicians who are flexible and creative, and who are also able to play whatever is put in front of them, it really is a great privilege to play with these people. As far as bringing new art to audiences: I like to try to make work that draws people into an experience of something new. First and foremost, we want to make great work, work that has a ‘reason for being’, but beyond that I want to develop new audiences for the kind of work we are wanting to make. As I mentioned earlier, I’m interested in meeting points: between cultures, genres, disciplines, technologies, improvisation and composition, and so on. This seems to have resonance in terms of contemporary Australia and feels important in the sense of where we are socio-politically. So it’s important to me that we are communicating with people; that we are drawing people into the fold.

You’ve been the Artistic Director since 2013, and the ensemble continues to break down exciting genre barriers. When you’ve got so much scope, how do you decide what you program?

I guess I’m really looking for things that align with the ideas I’ve already mentioned. And it’s good, I think, when we can make things happen as an organisation that you couldn’t do without the structural support we have at our disposal. Commissioning Nicole Lizée is a good example of a project that is ambitious and that expresses something distinctive about the here and now.

Practically speaking, I tend to have a few balls in the air at once and everything is dependent on schedules, availability, interest from presenters, and funding. When these things align around a potential project or idea then things can happen.

We’ve spoken to several young composers recently about how they use improvisation in their composition practice. Why is it important that young classical musicians learn to improvise and collaborate?

Improvisation is a great vehicle for collaboration and most of the musicians in the AAO come from improvising backgrounds. This is one of our strengths and one of the things that sets us apart from other ensembles. Improvisation is key to the success of the incredible cross-cultural collaborations the AAO has become well known for such as Crossing Roper Bar, with traditional songmen from Arnhem Land, Into the Fire with Carnatic master, Karaikkudi R Mani, and Water Pushes Sand, with musicians from Sichuan. Paul Grabowsky (the AAO’s founding AD) realised way before most that collaboration with musicians from neighboring Asian cultures and indigenous Australia is key to our collective development. He also realised that improvisation was key to the formation of meaningful collaborative cross-cultural partnerships. This was a hugely important vision, I think, and one I really try to keep in focus in how I think about the AAO. It’s also one that I try to spread and encourage: I reckon all musicians should improvise and that we should also try to break down the barriers between classical and ‘other’ musicians: we’re all musicians! These old silos of genre and style, and the fact that we are separated into them for the purposes of education is kind of ridiculous and anachronistic. I try to do my little bit with our Creative Music Intensive residency program (held in Tasmania each September) where we invite musicians from all styles and from different cultures and we certainly encourage musicians from classical backgrounds who are open to new ideas.

For our readers who haven’t been involved in creating music in this way before (through improvisation, collaboration, etc.), can you offer any tips on how to get started?

Start with a cup of tea!

Seriously, conversation and connection are vital. Beyond that, it’s a case of finding your own process. Mine is a combination of improvisation, recording, reflecting, composing, workshopping, re-recording, refining, editing, throwing out…

And it’s important to trick yourself out of your habits. Try to find a way of picking your instrument up like it’s something you’re unfamiliar with, if you can do that it will also change the way you listen. Listening is important!

5 Questions for Seong-Jin Cho

If you could give your younger self any advice about practising and performing, what would you say?

I'd tell myself to take more risks. I'd be a little more adventurous with my musical ideas, and maybe try to be a bit more spontaneous and unpredictable.

You've just recorded your first Deutsche Grammophon album, with works you describe as your "dream repertoire": Chopin's Four Ballades and his first Piano Concerto in E minor. In 2015 you won the International Chopin Piano Competition. Would you say Chopin is your favourite composer to play? What is it about these works, and Chopin generally, that you find so compelling?

Chopin is definitely one of my favourite composers, if not my absolute favourite. Chopin's music is very special - it speaks in a language that is very easy for the human soul to comprehend, and that's why I like it so much. It's always heart-warming to listen and to play his music.

When did you decide that you wanted to pursue a career as a concert pianist, and what inspired you to stick with it?

I've wanted to become a concert pianist since when I was a child - I've loved playing the piano ever since I was young. It was my source of joy and relief, and I've always loved the sound of the piano, so that's why I chose to stick with it.

You travel a lot to perform, and seem to have to learn a lot of repertoire in a small amount of time! How do you keep up a good balance of work and life pursuit, especially when being a pianist means working alone a lot of the time? What are you favourite non-musical activities?

I have to try to not think about how stressful it can be sometimes, but it's definitely an enjoyable process. I just kind of go with the flow - do what I need to do in the moment, and see what happens. I love to swim. It's a very relaxing activity, and it's probably one of the few sports that a pianist can do. I also love visiting museums, going to concerts as they're often a great source of artistic inspiration.

A lot of piano students read Rehearsal Magazine, many who are studying for recital examinations. Do you have any go-to practise tips for young musicians?

Practice with a "just never give up" mindset. There are always going to be obstacles, but as long as you continue to believe in yourself and work hard for it, things will eventually come your way.

Demystifying Music Technology: Media Ventures by Christopher Steller

How times (and technologies) change

It seems appropriate this month to talk about scoring for video, with the announcement of an upcoming tour from film scoring giant, Hans Zimmer. Over the last few weeks Zimmer has announced his Scoring Masterclass training sessions, which will begin in 2017, (https://www.masterclass.com/hz) and a tour, including Australia, also in 2017 (the Facebook announcement video has had 59,000 views as of this moment). If you haven't heard of him, check the 'music by.....’credits of the next movie you watch....or possibly the last half dozen or so.

Oh, I can't tell you the secret to his success, but maybe some comments about his technology use and methods.

Zimmer adopted computer music composition in its early stages, relying on sampled instruments for creating his musical ideas.

His early composition work utilised large numbers of hardware samplers - mostly the Roland S-760 rack-mount unit - in those earlier days the samplers were connected via SCSI to relatively small hard drives for storage, and the S-760 was quite unique with its attached monitor for editing instrument samples (the market at the time was fixed on Akai and their ubiquitous S-Series rack units.)

Zimmer was a huge fan of the early ‘PC-based’ NemeSys Gigasampler, one of the first disk-streaming sampler packages (samples don't load into RAM, they are read straight from the hard disk). Gigasampler went through quite a few years of development and ownership, ending its days with TASCAM as GigaStudio3. Zimmer had commissioned the development of a software shell that could have multiple versions of the Giga software playing simultaneously, allowing him the ability to play his orchestra parts with several computers - one with Steinberg's Cubase providing the note information to the others streaming orchestral samples with Gigasampler.

And what do you do when your work load needs more orchestral variations? The LSO sessions: preparing parts and getting the symphony orchestra to play exactly what he wanted to record and develop in his own customised sample library. Simple!

Zimmer's current system revolves around a Cubase setup and orchestral samples manipulated by a custom touch-screen controller. If you look at the image of his setup, you'll notice the layout with a weighted keyboard controller, touch-screen, and displays for DAW software (arrangement page & mixer page). If you search for more images via Google, you see more screens for video monitoring, so the process of scoring synchronises smoothly with the images. A good example of a comfortable and ergonomic working environment.

This isn't about replacing the orchestra (as I've pointed out in previous articles), it's about creating a convenient and comfortable working environment for composition in this medium when you are serious about your craft.

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Well, it's been an interesting and exciting year for music making, with some sad points along the way with the loss of many of our musical heroes, but as we welcome the Christmas season, it's time to plan for 2017. I hope you've enjoyed sharing my research and endeavors, and I hope you have a good break. Stay creative, and keep in touch.

In Conversation: Duo Amythis

You have been performing together since 2009, while pursuing solo careers at the same time. How do you balance your solo and duo careers?

We tend to have periods when we play more solo, and periods when we play more duo. Lately we've been performing almost only duo concerts, because the program we recorded has been met with a lot of success. Previously it varied. In 2013 we both played almost only solos, then in 2014 it was more or less balanced, as we repeated our old solo programs and learnt a new duo program. Since mid-to-late 2014 we've been playing almost exclusively duo concerts. Perhaps next year we'll play more individually, perhaps not. It depends mainly on what professional demands we receive: if we get requests for duo concerts then that's what we'll play. We both maintain a solo program though, so any demand for solo recitals can be met. Of course, other chamber music is always present, such as the concert Harold performed in Melbourne with flautist Lina Andonovska in 2014.

What have you learnt about working together as a duo that you wish you’d known when you started?

Just how much work it is! During tertiary studies, chamber music is considered a sort of support subject to the more important business of being a great musician. The result is that rehearsals are often kept to a minimum, and the standard is accepted as long as it is good enough. Everyone learns their parts, they play a few times together, make sure any cues have been decided upon, and head out onto the concert stage.

We've learnt that in order to meet professional standards as a duo, you have to rehearse just as much as a soloist practices...and it's exhausting work, far more so than normal practice, because there's a whole other person there, a whole complex mess of variables over which you have no direct control!

Communication becomes absolutely central. You have to understand each other's aesthetic goals perfectly, otherwise the result will be two soloists playing together, rather than a duo expressing the music as one. Having said that, contrast and dialogue are also important. Contradictory attitudes have to be nurtured. A duo that is too homogeneous doesn't necessarily stay interesting for the length of an evening recital (all depending on their choice of repertoire and program order of course). It's a nightmare! ... But very rewarding!

Together you have performed around the world. It can be tricky getting off a plane and jumping straight into performance mode - how do you manage this?

To be honest, if as a musician you can't jump into performance mode for a concert, then you've got to work on your planning. We used to over-book our travels; I remember once recording with a septet all day in Sydney before travelling to Canberra for an evening recital. Last year we drove all day one day for a concert the following morning. Of course the concerts tended to be fine, but was it worth the risk? What if the guitar was damaged in the flight? Air travel always involves heavy lifting, which really should be avoided the day of a concert.

We always allow time to get over jet lag on long flights, we avoid travelling any great distances the day of a concert, we don't teach or sit in juries on concert days. We see this as part-and-parcel of being professional. Of course you could over-book yourself and probably be all right, but it's not worth the risk of a concert with which you are not happy, or worse yet, with which the audience is not satisfied.

When did you each first hear the repertoire for guitar duo, and what continues to draw you to the genre?

Harold's first duo experience was Tim Kain and John Williams live on stage in Canberra. Véronique's was the Caputo-Pompillo duo in St-Truiden (Belgium). For us, a guitar duo has all of the colours and beauty of a solo guitar, but with far more possibilities. Some repertoire is practically unplayable on one guitar, and works brilliantly split across two. Great compositions for guitar duo always make the best of both instruments at once, and could not possibly be adapted to solo guitar. Other non-guitar repertoire that sounds wonderful on one guitar can be even more beautiful, or at least different, on two. More notes can be included to create fuller resonance, melodies can be sung in different positions, for different colours, unshackled by accompaniments that can only be played with a barré in a single position, for example. The extended possibilities are the real draw-card of a guitar duo, and the wider range of colours.

When preparing new duo repertoire, do you initially work on your parts alone, or do you start that process by playing together?

We tend to play mainly together, even at the beginning when things have to go slowly. This is an advantage when changes need to be made, as creative decisions like this should be made together.

For our readers interested in pursuing chamber music, how do you recommend they get started?

Find people you like, because you'll be spending a lot of time together! Don't compromise on your own artistic vision, but remain open to that of others. Communicate! And when someone else is trying to express their ideas, listen, try it, be open, try to express their vision in your way, learn from each other and create an interpretation together. And then play a lot, book as many concerts as you can. Just like as a soloist, you'll learn more from one performance than from a whole month of practice. Just play! If there are competitions, do them, because whether or not you win, the preparation will improve you. Get lessons, from guitarists as well as non-guitarists. Outside input is vital to questions of balance and colour in particular. Aim for perfection. If a cue isn't perfectly together, repeat it 20 times until it is, and then another 40 until you're sure it will be every time.

Who inspires you, as a duo?

Other duos we like are the Duo Melis, the Assads, and of course the Williams duos with Kain and Bream. The Bream album is fascinating, because the personalities of the two players are so different and so audible, yet the duo works. The Melis duo are the pinnacle of togetherness, a phenomenal example of what can be achieved. The Williams-Kain duo and the Assads are both inspiring not-only for their playing, but the way they build the repertoire. We'd love to build up a repertoire of new pieces like that. Some of the earlier performances of the Katona Twins have inspired us as well, just so, fun, exciting and exuberant!

How do you go about choosing repertoire, and is the commissioning and performance of new compositions (as you did on your debut album The Journey) part of your general practice as a duo?

Strangely, the harder we look for new repertoire, the less we find, but not looking we often stumble across great music. We've done countless arrangements that we've never played, and own huge quantities of scores that we'll probably never perform. And then after a concert by Möller, we spontaneously bought one of his pieces and were performing it four months later to great acclaim. We are no more interested in playing only new pieces than we are in repeating old ones, we believe in balance. We want both, and always include both in our programs. The program as a whole is the important thing: an unbalanced program of great music reduces that music's quality. It's a slow, continuous process that can't be forced.

What can your audience expect at your concert for the Melbourne Guitar Foundation on December 17?

A mix of music, some of which some audience members have heard at our last show, and some of which is new. One piece is brand new, the world première of a piece Harold wrote last year! The other pieces that are new to Melbourne are not new to music, with masterpieces by Vivaldi and Bach, that just never get old. We decided to include the Möller, as it's a feature of the album and still only rarely performed. And of course some Spanish classics, because what's a guitar recital without a little stop-off in Iberia!?

From The Organ Loft: In Conversation with Simon Mavin by Edwin Kwong

I recently had the chance to have a chat with Simon Mavin (Hiatus Kaiyote, The PutBacks, Swooping Duck) over breakfast at a café in Brunswick. Simon performed on the Melbourne Town Hall Grand Organ with the kora player Amadou Suso, and the bansuri player Vinod Prasanna, as a part of the closing event of the Melbourne Festival on October 23rd. I had the opportunity to introduce Simon to that particular organ, so we talked about his impression of it, as well as his thoughts on all things music.

Asides from your main projects, Hiatus Kaiyote, The PutBacks, and Swooping Duck, are there any other projects you are involved with at the moment?

There’s a bunch of little projects, but nothing that’s sort of a main thing yet! At the moment, I’m just based in the Melbourne music scene, making as much music as possible really.

The readers of Rehearsal Magazine are usually students at both high school and university, so could you tell us briefly about your educational background?

I did my Bachelor of Music at Monash University, and finished in 2005, but I was actually there for four years! In high school I did Year 11 music in Year 10, and Year 12 music in Year 11 – so that pretty much covered the performance side of first year university. I got into uni first year doing classical at the time, but once I got there I didn’t want to play classical anymore, and got into jazz instead. So I had to complete first year performance subjects again – it was really bizarre! It ended up extending my course an extra year, but to be honest, it was actually pretty good, because all I had to do in my final year was performance. I just played all year, which was great, and I got the highest marks of my class because I just had so much time to work on my performance! I really think it should be more common.

For sure, performance opportunities can be pretty scarce sometimes with a lot of university music students, which can be a bit discouraging.

Yeah, I mean I only know a handful of dudes in my course – literally three or four people who are still playing regularly, maybe less. The rest are probably teaching, or have gotten a real job(!).

People often joke about musicians not having a “real job” – but I mean for musicians, music is literally their full-time job, plus their life!

You’re running a small business by yourself – no one told you that at uni! That really should be curriculum in university degrees. I just don’t understand. They’ve got this idea of creating virtuosic musicians, and creating musicians with no place in the world. It’s insane! You walk out of the door, and you’ve got no idea how to get a gig, how to sell yourself, how to make any money…

That leads on quite nicely to my next question actually – did you struggle between finishing your degree and establishing yourself as a musician?

Well, I just wanted to be a performer from the get go! I just wanted to play gigs. I didn’t care, I wanted to do any gig! I actually did two weeks of a teaching degree – you know, your family wants you to be stable – so I went and did this course, and after two weeks I quit.

I made that decision to be a performer when I quit that teaching course. I had a part-time job, quit that, and decided that I was only going to make money off performing. I went on youth allowance for about a year, whilst I was trying to scrape together gigs and get myself going. Then after probably about 12 to 18 months, I got to the point where I was playing enough regular shows and somehow weaselled my way into the Melbourne music scene. And before I knew it, I was playing in 10 to 15 bands, doing 4 or 5 shows a week – everything: jazz, blues, rock, reggae, funk, pop, Latin music, whatever! People would throw me gigs, and I’d just say yes.

I suppose that was probably an incredible education in itself?

Oh absolutely! In my head, that was the concept of a musician. I didn’t see it as being a classical musician, or a jazz musician, or a pop musician. I just wanted to be a musician, who just appreciates and loves all music. Completely open. It’s always been my approach.

In a way, Hiatus Kaiyote is kind of the epitome of that concept – we can sort of go anywhere, and do anything. That was something that everyone in the band is very aware of: that the project can be pushed in any direction.

So if you were to talk to musicians coming out of uni – what would be your advice on what they should do, or shouldn't do?

Just do whatever you’re feeling! I don’t think you can be told what you want to do – you can be shown certain things, but you have to aspire to do what you want to do. The things that people are best at are the things that they can already hear in their head. Just do whatever the hell you want! It’s a simple concept. The greatest musicians do it.

Sometimes it seems like institutional education can box you in a little bit – that you have to be either a classical musician, or a jazz musician, or whatever.

Yeah exactly! For me, it was the whole concept of being a motherf*cker. That was the word, and probably still is the word going around. Like “oh my god that dude is such a motherf*cker, he can play so good!”, and then you’re like I want to be a motherf*cker too! What does that even mean? It totally distorted my reality on what I wanted to become, as a musician. It’s still buried in the back of my head – that I still want to be a motherf*cker, but I’m never going to reach it, because it’s an endless pursuit of this future me. It’s never going to happen!

Definitely, you can’t just play a certain way or like how some famous musician played a particular piece. You have to interpret it yourself too.

If all the composers came back to life, they’d probably be like “What the hell are you doing man? Play it however you want to play it!”

Like, if Herbie came to a gig, and saw me play one of his pieces, and I played it exactly the same as him – he’d probably slap me in the face. Make it yours.

Speaking of jazz – how did you find the transition between classical and jazz?

Well, I wasn’t the most amazing classical player, I didn’t really treat it that seriously. I had a fantastic teacher for about 12 years though! He really taught me how to play the music, but didn’t really teach me theory. So whilst it was great on one hand, it really set me back because I didn’t know anything about chordal harmony, chord-scale relationships, voicings of chords in general! My whole concept of theory was quite bad really. So I practically had to start from square one again. It was tough. The first year that I started playing jazz was a really difficult year; I worked my arse off! It was the hardest year I’ve ever had, I think.

And going from being a solo player to an ensemble player would have been a big leap too?

Yeah I did some things with other people before, but not that much. Then all of a sudden I’m in bands, and playing in ensembles with people. That was the big element that made me fall in love with music a lot more than ever before.

From playing with other people?

Improvising with other people. I can still remember the first moment I improvised with someone else: it just blew my mind! Literally, tingles down my spine – like the best drug in the world.

With improvisation, you have to be really open – you can’t have any stoppages. If you have any confidence issues that are coming across in your playing, if you have negativity – all these things change the way you communicate with the other artists. And when you’re completely open with each other, that’s what I'm talking about. It’s the most beautiful thing. That was the most interesting thing about this performance too, with Amadou and Vinod.

You had to learn them on the spot I suppose?

Yeah! I didn’t know these guys and had never played with them before – and we had to do a half an hour improvised set. So the only thing that I was thinking about was being as open, as positive, and giving them as much love as possible. I didn’t really care about the music to be honest. Because [the openness and positivity and love] was number one, and once that’s activated, the music just comes. That’s been my attitude to live performing for the last 10 years. Because back then I was playing so much live music, and performing with so many bands, that I can really tell when things weren’t working well, or when things were working well – and that was the reason. It’s incredible!

I remember doing this gig with this band, and we had a show in Byron Bay. It was an older band – and there was this staunch, negative vibe that was emanating from the older players, who had been the founding members of the band, to the newer players. So I just started smiling, and was giving everyone so much love, trying to flip it around. Then everyone just gradually came around, and it was great! Changed the whole dynamic of the gig.

Would you say that applies between the performers and the audience as well?

Absolutely. I mean the audience can definitely feel your feelings, I think. It’s an incredibly simple concept, but the amount of musicians that don’t think about that – how it affects the relationship with the music and what you end up producing, it’s amazing.

How did you approach your gig at the Melbourne Town Hall? It was your first time playing a pipe organ – an instrument that’s both incredibly familiar and completely different at the same time to what you’re used to.

I was sh*tting myself! It was a heavy gig. I always get nervous before improvisations, because I have no idea what’s going to happen. This one was tough because there were a lot of variables. When I was preparing for it, I just tried to improvise and get comfortable with this ridiculous instrument.

I mean, with your own setup, with multiple keyboards, synthesisers and various presets, it’s probably a lot like a pipe organ.

Absolutely, synthesisers are totally the modern-day pipe organs. It’s identical. It’s exactly the same concept – pretty mind boggling that the concept is so old.

I was chatting to a well-known concert organist lately, and he said that was also his approach to learning a new instrument – just improvising away, whilst trying out the different stops to learn their characters.

That was totally my concept! But after three hours, I was just like “oh my god I’m dizzy!” There’s just so much possibility… what do you do with all of it? It’s an insane instrument – there’s nothing like it!

Would you say then that the range of possibilities available on a pipe organ is what interested you the most?

Probably just the sound of the organ really, there’s nothing like it. Especially an instrument of that size and calibre. The sound could be so gentle, and then so thunderous too. But one thing that really astounded me was the sound of the room as well. Being able to hear the sound swell and fill the room, and the reverberation. That was quite incredible. It’s quite a difficult question actually, because pretty much everything was fascinating about the organ. I’d love to go back and record on it!

Behind The Ring: Part Four - Götterdämmerung by Greg Eldridge

By the time this last article is published, the Dress Rehearsals will be as good as done and The Melbourne Ring Cycle 2016 will be preparing for its official opening nights.

Contrary to the usual perception, this is often a time of deceleration rather than a sprint to the finish line – for the directing team, we’ve done all we can technically and dramatically and for us it’s a case of watching the first performance in the theatre just like every other member of the audience. Gone is our ability to stop and shape a movement, to ask for a nuance in a reaction, to try and just nudge the action a little more towards stage-left. Now, we take our (rightful) place amidst the sea of other opera fans to watch the performers breathe a full life into the world that we’ve spent the last three months making together.

The last few weeks of stage-orchestra rehearsals have allowed the singers to combine their movements on the stage with the need to fully sing out, and the final dress rehearsal for each show is an opportunity for that combination of drama and music to be practised in front of a living, breathing audience. By the time we get to the first performance, each performer will have been on stage several times – this process is designed to get everyone so used to the performing conditions that opening night won’t feel like the first time…although there’s something special about an opening night that means nerves will be out in force.

This is one of the trickiest times for the directing staff – we sit in the auditorium and watch the rehearsals and take notes. Often, this means making a note of every time someone is slightly out of position or made a dramatic choice that didn’t quite work, or if we saw a way that a scene could be improved. We will then go away and distill these pages of notes into the three or four most important details (“please can you stay downstage until after they finish their aria”) or concepts (“remember that this first scene is all about trying to impress her”). Unlike plays, which regularly have notes calls where actors and directors can discuss the rehearsal, most opera companies give singers time off after stage calls to rest. This means that any notes must be given in the hours prior to the next performance. From a Rheingold rehearsal on Monday, then, we may have to keep our notes until Friday morning when they’re next on stage – then we’ll see the singers in dressing rooms before they perform and pass on our observations. Once the shows start for real, this pre-performance ritual of doing the dressing room rounds to check in and give notes will continue with the assistant director who ‘maintains’ the show once it’s opened.

The stage rehearsals have also seen the introduction of that most important audience-communication device: the surtitles. Projected above the stage, these provide a rough translation of what is being said by the characters playing below. Of course in wordy operas like these, literal word-for-word translations would be impossible to achieve – the audience has only a moment to shift their gaze up to the screen above the stage to read what’s going on before switching their focus back to the stage action. There are many schools of thought about surtitle translation – some think that the text projected should be literally what the performers are saying, others think that a more poetic paraphrase makes it easier to understand what’s going on. I have written before about how uncomfortable I am when surtitles are deliberately mistranslated in order to hide the fact that the director has decided to depart from the original words and impose their own concept on a piece, making a nonsense of the text that is actually being spoken. How many directors would dare to have a character an English-language piece say ‘here I am in my car’ when they arrive riding a bicycle? Yet, to their discredit, some inexperienced or clumsy directors will stick to their interpretations despite being contradicted by the words being uttered on the stage.

The arrival of the orchestra also means the introduction of full costume, wigs, and make-up, and many of our notes from the production desk reflect thoughts on these elements. While in rehearsal we have had important items (Siegfried can’t be rehearsed without his sword and his horn, after all!), it’s only once we get to this part of the process that we see performers in their full kit of costume with all their hats, shoes and coats and with all the wigs and prosthetics that are required to transform them into their characters. As always, there is some tinkering around the edges, especially for performers who are new to the production, and often these conversations revolve around wigs. These hair pieces often look very different up close to the way they read in the vast space of the stage, and there are adjustments made to several wigs as we progress through these rehearsals. Luckily, with a generous amount of stage time, we are able to see every costume iteration several times and so we have the luxury of being able to try out a couple of options – and seeing them in their proper context – before having to make a final decision.

This is also the time in the rehearsal process for the directing team to start working in earnest with covers (also known as ‘understudies’). In this Ring Cycle, every character has a cover, which means that in the event of illness or emergency there will be someone who has been rehearsed into the role and could go on to allow the performance to occur. It is our job to rehearse the covers for the shows so that they know the staging requirements and the interactions required of them should they be called on to perform in someone else’s place. In effect, this means that we will be rehearsing each opera twice – once for the principal cast and once for the covers. It’s during these rehearsals (held whenever there is a spare moment between stage rehearsals) that we will determine whether the covers would be capable of performing the entire role if required, or if they would be better suited to singing from the side of the stage with an assistant director ‘walking’ the role. Several of these covers are also performing other roles in other operas in the Cycle, and so there is an enormous amount for them to learn. We’re scrambling to fit in all the rehearsals before we get to the opening night of each opera, but with some clever planning (and a couple of 3-session days for the directing staff) we can squeeze it all in.

The cover calls represent their own challenges in terms of directing. As is to be expected, every performer will have a slightly different idea of intention or motivation behind their character. What makes sense for one Brunnhilde, for example, may be at odds with another Brunnhuilde’s view of the character. For covers, who are being rehearsed in order to ‘fit in’ with the other principals in a performance, there is a fine line between allowing an appropriate amount of personal freedom in interpretation and ensuring that that freedom doesn’t adversely impact the other singers who have rehearsed the scene a certain way. Covers rarely meet the other principals they will be performing with unless they have to go on, which means that it is our job to guide them through the actions and reactions that the other performers will expect to see them have on stage. In a scene with only two characters, for example, there can be a certain amount of freedom for a cover to put their own stamp on the role, so long as they are in the right place at the right time for certain key moments. In large ensemble scenes, however, or in scenes with very specific lighting, the best option can be to be a little more insistent on certain blocking. It is up to each director, of course, how they navigate this problem. My own experience has been that being clear about when something is set in stone and must be adhered to, and when there is an opportunity for a bit of ‘play’ is the best way to allow covers to feel that they have been given a structural foundation for each scene while not feeling railroaded into giving someone else’s interpretation of a role.

Ring Cycles are an important part of the operatic repertoire. Not just because they are massive in size and scale, although they are. Not just because they are a costly spectacle which showcases some of the greatest music ever written, although they do. But because the emotional power of this series of operas is unlike anything else. The sense of connection to the characters across four days’ journey with them is immense, and there are unique vibrations to be felt in the air as 100 instruments all play at once, or as 60 voices cry out into the theatre, or as singers who have been on stage for nearly five hours seem to suddenly take it up a notch and sing higher and louder and stronger than before. This is true experiential theatre. Theatre which stays with you long after the final curtain. No wonder some people become hooked and travel around the world to experience these overwhelming sensations again and again.

One of the great privileges of working as a director in this field is that I get to bear witness to the births of characters over weeks of rehearsal, of experimentation, of trial-and-error. In this sense, I too am an addict. It has been my enormous pleasure to work alongside literally hundreds of people across all departments and all facets of the theatre on this project, and I am very grateful to have been able to make my debut at Opera Australia working on this Ring Cycle with some of the finest interpreters of these roles to be found anywhere in the world.

As I stagger towards the finish line of my time on the production, I’m reminded of one thing: if we trust the work we’ve done over the past 12 weeks, everything will be fine. If we start to fiddle unnecessarily or shower performers with notes or suggestions for improvements, we’ll start to undo that good work. Now we put our trust in the actors. Hojotoho!

- Greg

A personal note:

There are many influences behind people’s decisions to follow their passions, and I’d like to acknowledge one of mine. While I was at university (studying performing arts & law, and not sure which I wanted to pursue), I worked as an usher at the Arts Centre Melbourne - there is such a beautiful symmetry in being able to make my Opera Australia debut in the theatre that I worked at for so many years! Along with being paid to see hundreds of shows of all different genres, I met a lot of wonderful, inspiring, creative people who were also working front-of-house and who collectively influenced me to make the theatre my home. In particular, a man named Bruce Wapshott was hugely important in guiding me towards understanding the vital importance of the Arts in society and encouraging me to find my own voice to add to the chorale of theatre-makers and story-tellers. Not having been home for six years, I was so excited to share my adventures with him and to thank him for all his help at the formative stages of my career. Sadly, he passed away the month before I arrived in Melbourne. He was an enormous influence on me and dozens of others and I’d like to thank him now in print in a way I wasn’t able to do in life.

‘We are the music-makers, and we are the dreamers of the dreams’

Behind The Ring: Part Three - Siegfried by Greg Eldridge

The stage rehearsals are here. After 6 weeks in the rehearsal studio, 12 months of planning, preparation and meetings, and 3 years since the first performance of this Cycle, we’re in the State Theatre in Melbourne, ready to throw everything we’ve done in the rehearsal rooms onto the stage.

The stage rehearsals bring their own special kind of magic that isn’t possible in the confines of the rehearsal room. Suddenly, after weeks of being figuratively (if not literally) staring up the noses of the singers, the directing team is perched at the production desk about half-way back in the stalls and we’re able to see the full height, width, and depth of the set and its surrounds. The stage sessions are (almost) always my favourite part of the production; there are many worse places to be in the world than nestled in the red velvet comfort of the State Theatre. For me, there’s nothing quite as exciting as sitting bleary-eyed late at night in an otherwise empty theatre, and staring at the set as the all-important, yet subtle, nuances of lighting are achieved.

Now our hard work in the rehearsal room can be transferred to the full glory of the stage, which means, in part, ceding control over to the tireless Magicians of the Theatre: Stage Management. While Stage Management is always present in rehearsals, forever taking notes, tweaking schedules, poised with a prop or costume piece 20 seconds before we realise we need it, now they are in their element. On each show is a Stage Manager who is in overall control of the stage, a Deputy Stage Manager who calls the lighting, revolve, and fly cues from the prompt copy score (also known in some theatres as the ‘Show Bible’ – probably a more fitting description of the omniscience of the SM crew) and Assistant Stage Mangers who provide support in each wing, ensuring each performer enters in the right spot at the right time with the right things.

Each opera is given stage time, broken down into Stage-Piano rehearsals (the ‘director’s rehearsals’, used by us for spacing, practising scene changes and fixing lighting) and the Stage-Orchestra rehearsals (which are the domain of Maestro and the music staff, bringing the full company of musicians together). We’re currently in the midst of the Stage-Piano calls.

Seated at the production desk are representatives of the technical departments that make the show run – the lighting desk houses the designer and the programmer, whose computers operate the lights, making full use of the lighting rig above the stage, the additional lights rigged along the rail of the orchestra pit and below the dress circle, and follow spots (or ‘domes’) operated by specialist crew from above. Next to the directors’ desk (with its superfluity of scores, notes, bits of paper and, of course, cups of coffee!) is the Technical Desk, where the technical and production staff oversee all the non-performer elements of the show. During each stage-piano, an endless flurry of questions comes from our side of the desk to theirs – ‘Can the curtain mechanics be quieter than that?’ ‘Is it possible to have the flames any higher?’ ‘Is the revolve dead on centre?’ - all part of the vital elements of a modern production.

Throughout the Stage-Piano rehearsals, we stop every now and then to correct things on the stage. Particular bits of blocking that worked well in the smaller dimensions of the rehearsal room now look awkward, or are not framed quite as well as we thought now that we can see it in the proper space. Tama and I run up and down the various levels of the theatre to make sure that sight-lines are clear, checking to ensure that the little additions and changes that have been made to the stage shapes don’t cut any of the audience out of the action. On the production desk is a microphone that’s hooked up the front- and back-of-house sound systems – the God Mic. It’s from here that Neil will sometimes call a halt to rehearsals as we make adjustments to the set or to positions on stage. The Music Staff are kind enough to allow us some time to make these corrections – they know that once the orchestra arrives it will be their turn to run the show and we’ll be relegated to taking silent notes from the desk.

With the arrival of Stefan Vinke (playing the not-insignificant role of Siegfried) we’re scrambling to rehearse him into his scenes in the moments before each entry on the stage. He has a spectacular memory and usually a once-through in a rehearsal space on the side of the stage is enough to remind him of the context and emotional temperature of our staging for each scene before he goes on. A veteran of several Ring Cycles, it is incredible to see him searching through the various productions he’s done before he lands on the memory file for this production. A quick talk-through, a moment to remind him of the props and dangers in the scene we’re about to do (“make sure you’re clear of the revolve for this section because it will start to spin really fast…”) and then he’s on stage and performing like he’s spent the last month in rehearsal. I suppose an incredible memory must be an important pre-requisite if you’re to jet around the world from production to production. Such is the life of the itinerant heldentenor.

Neil will leave the production by the time we get to the Stage-Orchestra rehearsals, so we’re making the most of his time with us to get his final thoughts on bits of staging. It’s not unusual for a director to leave midway through a revival, although Ring Cycles are such a big undertaking that it’s useful to have Neil around to clarify things. He’ll return for the last couple of performances, but from here on it’s up to us to make sure that everything we’ve set so far makes it through the rest of the stage rehearsals.

The stage rehearsal stage is also the time when tempers are most likely to fray, as the weight of the past 2 months starts to catch up with everyone in the pressure-cooker environment of these last few rehearsals. We have to be careful to let piano rehearsals run as much as possible to let the performers get into the swing of each scene – these are such big roles, not just musically, but also emotionally. With characters that have to live through such enormous swings of sentiment, we have to ensure that we allow the performers an opportunity to practice the pacing of that aspect of their performance. In this sense, emotional stamina is as important as vocal. This is also our opportunity to test whether what has been created in rehearsals translates successfully to the stage. These rehearsals are our last chance to correct and to nuance our work before the focus shifts to the marriage between orchestral sound and staging – we have to get it right.

Demystifying Music Technology: Plugin Wars by Christopher Steller

When Steinberg (the Cubase people) introduced the VST plugin way back in the distant past, I'm not sure that they had any idea of what they were unleashing for the world of computer-based music. Before VST, when you purchased your PC software for recording you were locked into all of the features of your chosen audio workstation, for better or worse.

And then there was Virtual Studio Technology (VST)! The ability to add plugins at your discretion (or when finances permitted), in a format that was compatible with your Cubase software. Okay, there was that problem to begin with - you needed to be using Cubase.

The VST plugin format has become extremely popular, especially in Windows-based software, but is also used in cross-platform products, where OSX is supported.

Avid's Pro Tools introduced their own plugin format (RTAS and then, more recently, AAX), as did Logic when they went Apple Mac only with their Audio Unit (AU) format.

Some DAW software is clever enough to recognise VST and AU format plugins, including Presonus Studio One, Ableton Live and Bitwig Studio.

When Propellerhead entered the plugin market with an update of Reason a few years ago, they decided on their own format that would integrate with their already complex (but very stable) system, called RE (for Rack Extension). These plugins have to be able to patch back and forth with the basic functionality of Reason, which is something I really appreciate about this amazingly modular DAW. Devices and plugins can be patched into each other giving levels of control and audio flexibility not found in other DAWs.

When you are downloading and installing plugins on your PC, the installer will give you options for what you want to install, especially on Mac, VST/AU/AAX. Only install what you need for your system/DAW.

Several software companies have introduced shell programmes, called wrappers, that allow you to use VST plugins in AU format, and vice versa, giving access to more possibilities for your music making.

So, when you are purchasing plugins for your DAW, you need to read all of those boring ‘system requirements’ that tell you how powerful your computer needs to be (some plugins are 32-bit and are not compatible with newer 64-bit operating systems), what version of operating system is supported, and how much hard drive space is needed (especially important if you are installing sample player plugins that have a very large library included, for example, the Key Stats for Spitfire's Symphonic Strings).

Get Hatched with Ensemble Offspring
The Hatched Academy has been running since 2014 and has seen some incredible musicians pass through the program. What was the catalyst for you to set up the Academy in the first place?

It was really just reflecting on the huge amount of joint expertise myself and all of our musicians have built up over the years with highly specialised musical and interpretative skills, as well as the fact that there are very few post-uni study opportunities for emerging artists who want to go down a more adventurous musical road.

Skills like project development and marketing aren't often taught in music at university but form a large part of the work you do as an instrumentalist and composer. Can you tell me more about the practical skills offered through Hatched Academy?

We have just returned from a week down in Bundanon working with our Hatched Academy students (we like to refer to them as ‘hatchlings'), work-shopping the composer’s new works and playing with and giving lessons to the performers. On the practical front of making it in the music industry, the four participants had daily sessions with me themed around programming, marketing or funding, and we just chatted and they shot lots of questions at me. I also set them some ‘homework’ for the week, which was to budget out and write blurbs and press releases for a program or performance that they would want to put on in the future. So in a way, this really turned into a critique on a mock funding application, the point being that hopefully with this increased nous and insight they will have more success with finding funds to put on their own shows into the future.

What can successful applicants expect to get out of a year in the Hatched Academy? What is the balance between practical components (performance outcomes etc.) and business skills?

Because each year we accept different instrumentalists (this year we had two cellists for example) and they tend to come from differing backgrounds (for example Mar Rapp is from a more jazz improvised music background, and David Moran, more classical), every year it is a matter of developing a program that really gives the most to each individual. We try to cater to their needs and stay lithe so that they can really benefit from our huge range of experience and expertise.

Has the development and ongoing success of Ensemble Offspring influenced the program?

Yes, very much so! I think now we have the confidence to give advice in a way that we probably wouldn’t have 10 years ago. 20 years in the industry is a long time in Australia - ensembles come and go but we have stuck in there, and you do tend to learn a great deal from just sticking in there and always striving for the best.

What does it take to be a Hatched Academy participant?

We are looking for artists under 30 who show vision, innovation and excellence in their chosen field: people who think big and dream big, but have the substance behind them to really make it in this challenging musical climate.

Behind The Ring: Part Two - Die Walküre by Greg Eldridge

Auf der Erde Rücken wuchtet der Riesen Geschlecht
On the Earth’s surface dwells the race of Giants

- Wotan, Act 1 – Siegfried

The first time working for any company is a bit intimidating - make sure you get signed in, get a pass, meet a thousand people and try to remember exactly who does what. I’ve arrived in Sydney for the first month (!) of rehearsals, which will take place in The Opera Centre studios in Surry Hills. In London, I’m used to everything taking place in the flash of an eye (a week for a revival of Tosca, 10 days to get together a Traviata, perhaps 3 weeks for a new production of Così) so I’m looking forward to a process that will span 6 weeks in rehearsal studios, then a further 6 weeks on stage before opening night.

I’m waiting in reception to meet Roger Press, the Sydney-based associate director who I’ve been in contact with regarding schedules and rehearsal breakdowns. For this revival of The Ring there will be 2 assistants working alongside Roger - myself and another freelance director Tama Matheson. The others have worked at the company before – I’m the only new kid on the block and I’m hoping that my knowledge of the operas will make up for my ignorance about the structures and processes of the company.

Every theatre and every company has its own ways of doing things – in London, schedules for the next week must be handed into the office in hard copy with red pen alterations ready for publication each Friday morning, while Opera Australia prefers emailed corrections to draft schedules that are made public each Thursday. It may not seem like a huge difference, but for a production that involves 20 principal singers, a full chorus as well as extra choristers, actors, dancers and around 70 volunteers (not to mention music staff that have to be distributed to appropriate rehearsal rooms, and allowances made for coachings and understudies) and then balanced around the needs of other shows that are rehearsing at the same time, I’m keen to make sure I have everything written down so that I get everything in on time and to the right person!

Denk’ich dann Wunder zu wirken
So I plan wonders to accomplish
Alberich – Scene 3 Das Rheingold

This first week of ‘rehearsals’ is just for the directing team. In a large meeting room in the OA headquarters, the three of us sit down and watch the archival recordings of the 2013 performances. We are watching different video recordings to the ones I had been sent in London and based my notation on, and so it is interesting to see how the show developed from the dress rehearsal (which I had been watching) to the second performance (which we were now going through). Shows must be allowed to live and to breathe and to grow, and so it’s heartening to see that the performers seem to have been allowed to follow their instincts and ‘play’ on the stage, rather than slavishly following ‘blocking’ that may have been set earlier. There are many ways to put on a show, and in parts of the commercial theatre world (and, indeed, in parts of European opera practice) there is a school of directing that demands total rigidity in revivals - ‘Yes, I agree that it might feel better to embrace the other character on the stage-right side of the stage, but in the book it says you’re a foot further to stage-left, so please can you move there instead’. While of course there has to be some allowance for factors like lighting (it’s no good reacting ‘truthfully’ if you’re in the dark!) and safety (‘perhaps you could consider making that speech a touch further downstage so you don’t get hit by the moving scenery’), my experience has been that performers are likely to achieve a much greater level of spontaneity, energy and intimacy if encouraged to work within a framework and develop their own reactions to a scene. Pleasantly, it looks like this will be the case with this revival.

As we work through each opera, we take time to compare notes and review technical documents to ensure that we’re all on top of the problems that were encountered in the original run, the solutions that were found, and the ways that those decisions will impact the revival. It is inevitable that concepts and effects that were conceived years in advance in the vacuum of a design studio will be subject to several iterations as they are experimented with on the stage. ‘The original idea was for more pyrotechnics to be involved here,’ says Roger as we look at a scene from Siegfried, ‘but when we got to the stage we found it didn’t quite look as we’d expected. So they got cut.’ Having previously directed shows in bigger theatres, I know the feeling of having to compromise on an idea that I’ve grown very fond of when it suddenly runs into logistical (or, in some cases, physical) hurdles. In an undertaking as grand as The Ring, I’m sure there have been several big concepts that didn’t make it past the design presentation phase.

It takes us three days to get through the material for the production. Already, there is a growing sense of camaraderie among the assistant team, and this is further reinforced by time spent together during that most necessary of all theatrical occasions – the coffee break. Roger and I have several friends in common, including some from London who have travelled to Australia to revive shows that Opera Australia has imported from Covent Garden. Tama, it turns out, is a kindred spirit who shares my love of words and literature and altogether it seems like we’ll be able to complement each others’ skills and temperaments. Next step: the start of rehearsals with singers…

Gäste kamen und Gäste gingen…
Guests came and guests went…
- Sieglinde, Act 1 – Die Walküre

Neil Armfield, the original director, arrives at the start of the ‘proper’ rehearsal period. I had known his name, of course, from his years of work in Australia and had been an admirer of his work since having seen his production of Exit The King at the Belvoir St Theatre. He had also recently directed the film version of Holding The Man, which I thought was a deeply moving adaptation of a play I loved. I was interested to see what his rehearsal style would be.

I have worked with directors who span the gamut of leadership styles. Quiet collaborators, beneficent dictators, egomaniacal despots … each able to create wonderful works of art, despite using completely opposite means in their creation. It becomes clear from the first that Neil is a contemplative director, happy to let the performers follow an instinct and then set about exploring options that navigate them closer to the original stage shapes. What is perhaps most remarkable is that Neil is juggling his Ring Cycle revival with his co-stewardship of the Adelaide Festival, whilst also planning his next production in America. I have seen directors balance such heavy workloads before, of course, but not with Neil’s constant sense of calm.

The international artists are due to join us at different points in the rehearsal process. Amber Wagner (Sieglinde) joins us ten days into the rehearsal period, followed by Lise Lindstrom (Brunnhilde) who arrives shortly after her. We won’t get to see Siegfried (played again by Stefan Vinke) until we get to the stage rehearsals. It’s not unusual to have singers join late in the process, although it can make it difficult for relationships to form. There can be a big difference, for example, between having a couple of lovers rehearse together every day for a month as opposed to only meeting each other at the dress rehearsal, although with a tally of Ring Cycles in the double-digits the experience Stefan will bring to the production will surely outweigh his late arrival.

It is, however, impossible to rehearse a Ring Cycle without a Siegfried, and so David Hamilton has been engaged by the company as a ‘rehearsal cover’. He will learn the role (all 7 hours of it!) and rehearse with the other principals all through the 6 weeks of studio rehearsals until Stefan arrives to take over once we get to the stage. It’s a tremendously difficult job to learn every note, every word, every interaction, every bit of blocking and every intention with the knowledge that you’ll never get to perform the role. Without him, however, we’d be unable to adequately rehearse the other principals and would be in real danger of not being ready come stage time. The rehearsal cover is therefore one of the most important – and unsung – parts of the rehearsal process and is to be gratefully acknowledged.

These first few rehearsals are a little bit humbling – I remember as an opera-goer in Melbourne (before I had really decided that I wanted to follow the Arts as a career) being struck by the Opera Australia performers, and here I am a decade later working one-to-one with them. I may have worked with some major international names – Kaufmann, Terfel, Netrebko, Gheorghiu – but there’s a strange flurry of butterflies as I enter a rehearsal room with Fiebig, Arthur, Youl, Hislop and Fyfe. Obviously that teenage me hasn’t been as completely buried as I thought!

Under normal circumstances, a production might be expected to rehearse for 11 sessions a week – 2 3-hour blocks each weekday and a single session on a Saturday. For a project of this size, however, that won’t be sufficient and so we’ve had several 3-session days worked into each week’s schedule, as well as having 2 sessions on a Saturday. This leaves us with Sunday to snatch what rest we can in between planning and preparation for the rehearsals to come in the following week. I’m enjoying the freedom to spend a Sunday morning wandering around Sydney – a city I don’t know particularly well – but I can tell that this gruelling schedule will soon start to wear us down. Illness and exhaustion are going to be big factors in this rehearsal period unless we can find the right balance for the singers.

The least glamorous part of working internationally is the accommodation. Destined as we are to be spending 10 – 14 hours a day in rehearsal, the hotel room becomes a sterile home-away-from-home with half-unpacked suitcases and unfamiliar furnishings the only comforts to stumble back to. There is a great joy, therefore, when Tama and I are able to walk back together, discussing the day and planning the weeks ahead, and then retire to our rooms to have a cup of tea and talk about something completely different – philosophy, Restoration poetry, Tinder … it’s all up for discussion and helps to provide a break from the onslaught of never-ending rehearsals.

Was ist’s mit den ewigen Göttern?
What is it with these eternal Gods?
- Brunnhilde, Act 1 – Gotterdammerung

I have worked on relatively few Wagner operas; a Ring Cycle in the UK, a production of Tristan und Isolde at the Royal Opera and now this Ring in Australia. What has struck me about them all, however, is the personality that seems to be an integral part of the Wagnerian singer. In the Longborough Ring it was Rachel Nicholls, Jason Howard and Mati Turi, in the ROH Tristan it was Nina Stemme, Stephen Gould and Sir John Tomlinson, and now in rehearsal here it is Lise Lindstrom, Amber Wagner and James Johnson.

There’s something about these singers that makes it a joy to be in the room with them. Perhaps it is that they spend their working lives recreating the most epic stories in existence, perhaps it is that they play character arcs that transcend ordinary human experience and (often) end in either physical or philosophical death – whatever it may be, there’s no question that these helden singers are the most lovely people to work with. Forever approachable, always charming, gracious and humble, they seem to like amiable mirrors of the often conflicted characters they portray on the stage. Whether it’s receiving a naughty smile in rehearsal, or sharing a joke while waiting for the revolve to be spun back to its preset position, there’s an energy and an intellect in the room that makes coming to rehearsal a thing to be looked forward to.

It will be an exciting thing to see the transfer of the show from studio rehearsal to the stage and to watch how these high-spirited artists transform themselves into the tragic, complex and driven characters of the piece.

Behind The Ring: Part One - Das Rheingold by Greg Eldridge

In the month leading up to opening night of Opera Australia's epic Neil Armfield production of Wagner's Ring Cycle, assistant director Greg Eldridge is taking Rehearsal Magazine readers behind the scenes.

12 months before rehearsals

It’s the email with the subject line that every jobbing director loves to see: “Enquiry for future season”. I’d met with Lyndon Terracini (Artistic Director of Opera Australia) while he was on one of his frequent trips to London and we’d talked in the bar of his hotel about the possibility of me returning to work in Australia after my time as Jette Parker Associate Director at the Royal Opera. It had been 5 years since I’d uprooted and moved to London, and I was keen to find a means to come back home for a time.

So, from that meeting in February 2015, here it was in October and I’d finally received an email from Joanne Goodman (then Senior Artist Manager) to ask me to hold dates. I was in the middle of stage rehearsals for my production of The Lighthouse at the Royal Opera, so there was a lot going on, but there’s a secret joy that never diminishes whenever an offer of work comes in (Public Service Announcement – spread happiness today by making me an offer of work!).

The offer is to assist Neil Armfield (original director) on the revival of his 2013 production of Der Ring des Nibelungen (better known as The Ring Cycle). My main responsibilities are to be the third and fourth operas in the cycle – Siegfried and Götterdämmerung (each in excess of 5 hours) – as well as working on parts of Die Walküre. I had worked on a Ring Cycle a few years previously, assisting Alan Privett in the Longborough Ring conducted by Anthony Negus, and had found it one of the most intense and amazing experiences in my career.

The Ring is the biggest undertaking in opera, and it requires a lot of rehearsal time to get through all the studio, stage-piano and stage-orchestra rehearsals and so the company was asking for me to be in Australia from the end of August 2016 until the end of November – all up 14 weeks. The opportunity to return home for a decent amount of time and to work with the company I’d grown up watching are very strong pull factors, but it is a long time to give up being in amongst the theatres in London. As always with big projects, there is a bit of an existential crisis – would I be forgotten if I left my adopted home in the UK for 3 months? I’m just about to direct my fourth production at the ROH, is it the right career move to return home as an assistant or would I be better served to stay in Europe directing in my own right? Then again, how many opportunities would I have to return home, especially to work on one of the greatest projects in the operatic world? I asked my colleagues at the Royal Opera what they thought would be best. I asked my friends and family in the UK and Australia what they thought. I weighed up the financial consequences, the emotional arguments, the logistical implications.

I said yes.

9 months before rehearsals

My Christmas present from Opera Australia arrived in a nondescript brown box. It was delivered to the Staff Directors office at Covent Garden, where my desk is already overflowing with documents relating to Jonathan Kent’s Tosca which is being rehearsed over the Christmas break. Inside are all the things that make a director’s heart leap (apart from stationery – sticky tabs and highlighters make everything great). As is my usual practice I’ve asked for blank scores for each opera, copies of the archive recordings that are made of every production and the stage management and staff director notes from the 2013 productions.

Although the exact duties expected of directors in revivals varies from show to show, the broad principals are the same – it’s our job when we’re leading the room to recreate the spirit of the production as it was when first presented, using the original staging as a starting point. This requires an intimate knowledge not just of the opera itself but also the intricacies and details of the original show.

Directors’ scores are a little different from a singer’s vocal score. In addition to the vocal lines and text, our single-sided scores need to carry at a glance the detail of the movement, thought-progressions and technical information required to present a complete picture of the role. It’s not enough for us to merely say ‘and then you exit stage-left’; we have to know that the singer ‘exits stage-left, but has to be careful because of the scenery change being prepared in the wings, then has three minutes to swap over wig and costume and will then re-enter on the other side of the stage in a different emotional state as during their time off-stage their character has learned important new information’.

The rule of thumb for directors’ scores is that the information should be clear, legible, and able to be picked up by the next person who revives the show without needing any further explanation. To that end, I take great care with my scores. Characters’ vocal lines are highlighted to enable sections to be easily identified, literal translations are written above the text in the event that the next person isn’t fluent in the original language (and, let’s face it, Wagner’s poetry is written in language archaic enough to confuse even native speakers!). There is also technical information (lighting cues, revolve speeds and indications of when bits of scenery are flying in and out), as well as quotes from the original director to help in the interpretation of parts of the text. Finally, there are coloured tabs to indicate entries, exits, new scenes and important technical effects (watch out for the fire!).

It takes a lot of time to prepare scores fully – the last time I did a Ring Cycle it took over 100 hours to have everything written in and ready for rehearsals; I’ll be spending time working on my scores around other projects over the next 9 months to make sure everything is in place.

1 month before rehearsals

I’m just about to board a plane for Australia! It’s been a whirlwind couple of months leading up to this moment – I’ve just returned from Italy directing a new production of L’incoronazione di Poppea, having travelled there hours after the last performance of a new Il trovatore at the Royal Opera, which had occupied the last few weeks. I had enough time to come back to London and pack before (finally!) leaving the grey British skies for the promise of an Australian summer.

In between these other productions, I haven’t neglected my Ring Cycle preparation; I’ve been coaching with music staff at Covent Garden on each of the operas I’m working on in order to get under the musical skin of the piece. I’ve also been going through line-by-line, word-by-word with Dominik Dengler the chief German Language Coach in London and a veteran of several Ring Cycles. The result has been lots of notes, many discovered nuances and a greater understanding of the narrative of the cycle.

I’ve also been paying close attention to the DVD recordings of the first production from 3 years ago. Every major opera house makes these kinds of recordings, usually from a single fixed-point camera located at the back of the auditorium, which are used to document the staging of each show. Although these recordings are quite good at giving a wide view of the whole stage, they are not high in definition and so when there are lots of people on stage it can sometimes be a case of following the ‘white blur’ as they move about the stage in amongst the other blurs. It’s also a really useful way to see which of the original staging ideas survived the transition from the rehearsal studio to the stage. Often assistant directors are run off their feet during the stage rehearsal process and so these recordings can help bridge the gap between what has been written down in the book and what ends up taking place in performance.

Never one to miss the chance to do a show, once I arrive in Melbourne, I’ll spend 2 weeks directing a new production of Trouble in Tahiti before heading to Sydney to go into lock-down ahead of the start of Ring rehearsals. The last 12 months have been a lot of time spent by myself with the technical diagrams, video recordings and hundreds and hundreds of pages of music. The next step will be to meet the team I’ll be spending the next three months with and to begin the process of actually getting the action from the page onto the floor.

On the Road with Beilman and Tyson

Currently halfway through their month long Australia tour, Benjamin Beilman and Andrew Tyson are creating duo magic across the country, thanks to Musica Viva. We had the opportunity to sit down with the young performers prior to their Melbourne performances.

A month long tour is nothing to be sneezed at. It requires resilience and good humour - two traits violinist Benjamin Beilman and pianist Andrew Tyson have in bucket loads. Settling into Australian life, they inform me that they’ve been trying the local cuisine. “We had pavlova in Newcastle, and we’re trying all the different types of Tim Tams”, laughs Beilman. No word on their Vegemite appreciation yet. The young performers (Beilman is 26, Tyson, 29) met at the prestigious Curtis Institute in Philadelphia in 2007 or 2008, where they often heard each other perform in masterclasses and concerts. While they didn’t begin to play together until more recently, they consider their similar pedagogical backgrounds a point of real strength that provides a solid foundation for their playing. Learning with father and daughter super-duo Claude and Pamela Frank during their time at Curtis allowed them to get to know one anothers playing, and after both being taken on as soloists with the same New York-based artist manager, their paths appeared destined to cross. Beilman was “looking for a recital partner", and someone he could spend a lot of time with while touring, and "Andrew was an obvious choice”. Their individual styles often overlap, allowing them to create the type of exhilarating duo music they love. This is no soloist-accompanist relationship. Every note is imbued with the character of Beilman and Tyson’s fiery collaboration in which each performer holds his own.

2016 has been hugely successful for the pair already. They began the year at the Musée du Louvre with a performance of an all-Mozart program, and continued their tour in concerts across Paris and later, in London’s stunning Wigmore Hall. In Australia they present a new program, including some of the works that have already brought them major success already this year, such as Mozart’s famous Sonata no. 35 in A Major, K.526. His last major violin sonata, Mozart’s A Major suits the pair perfectly - it highlights both violin and piano in equal measure, offering both “soloists” lines of depth and musicality and inviting a conversation between the two. When choosing the program for their current Musica Viva tour, Beilman notes that it was designed to play to both performers’ “individual strengths as soloists, and their strengths as a duo”. These strengths lie in their ability to understand each other as artists without communicating with words. “We come from a shared tradition, and a shared aesthetic, so we can show our intentions through the way we play”, says Beilman, “Very often in concerts we’ll do things spontaneously, and it’s more about how we react to one another. In a tour like this where we’re playing the same repertoire in multiple different venues, it’s important to do things differently every time - working off the aesthetic of each stop, noticing audience reactions”.

This tour, which spans just under a month, sees the pair perform in venues big and small -everywhere from the Elizabeth Murdoch Hall to the Armidale Town Hall in Northern New South Wales. The program of four pieces is one that “can be reinvented” from performance to performance, and it’s important to Tyson not to “simply recreate what worked in a previous performance, because you are inevitably going to get a lesser knock-off version of it, or it just won’t work at all”. A lot about what works for Beilman and Tyson in concert (and a factor that has been heralded multiple times already by reviewers of their Australian tour), is their ability to communicate wordlessly on and off stage. “Your mindset is always different between concerts, and you have to be responsive. We haven’t been copying ourselves, we’ve been experiencing the music differently every time” says Benjamin. When we spoke – straight after their performance at the City Recital Hall in Sydney – they immediately commented on the new feelings the works had presented: They were slightly more introspective, and more emotional. It is a special ability to allow the music to present itself in an entirely new guise each time, requiring a particular courage and confidence in your musical partner.

“What is special about the duo concept is you don’t have to be as homogenous as a string quartet or a chamber orchestra. It feels like composers want two strong equals playing together or off one another”. The pair, after studying together under the Franks, split up to travel and study elsewhere: Benjamin in Germany, Andrew across the country at Juilliard. It is important to both Beilman and Tyson to develop their own strong, individual musical connections, so they can not only deliver the demanding technical ability required of much duo repertoire, but understand the music on an intellectual and emotional level.

This level of understanding is at least partly due to their acclaimed individual solo careers. They chuckled when I asked them about time management, and staying on top of note learning – while they’re on this tour, there’s no rest and recuperation between performances. Beilman reminded me that although they are performing many evenings while in Australia, they have to be working on completely different projects in the morning. Tyson will be flying to Hong Kong and then Switzerland at the end of the tour, while Beilman will return to the US for another series of concerto performances. “Time management is incredibly important”, says Tyson. He uses a countdown application on his phone to remind him of looming performance commitments. “It’s easy to think a concert in February is ages away, but then you plug into the app and see it’s only 100 days away…” It changes your thinking and reminds you to get on with the job at hand. “It’s helpful to listen through pieces that I need to perform, to familiarise myself with them if they are new or remind myself of them if I’ve played them before,” Tyson suggests, “especially when on the road”. There is a lot of time spent on buses and trains moving between venues, which is an excellent time to get into note-learning.

This note-learning strategy comes in particularly handy when learning contemporary music, a form which both Tyson and Beilman take very seriously. “We have both commissioned a few pieces, and often play the music of living composers”, Tyson told me, before we discussed Musica Viva’s exceptional program for female Australian composers, The Hildegard Project. Jane Stanley’s piece, Cerulean Orbits, is “extremely powerful” according to Beilman, and they were fortunate to workshop it with her earlier in the year in London to get to know her style, and so she could hear them perform together. It feels tailored to Beilman and Tyson now, and it rounds out their current program.

It is important that young performers “listen to as much music as they possibly can”, say the pair, when asked about what they have learnt as a chamber ensemble. “Don’t just listen to chamber music, listen to everything: symphonic music, operas, lieder and listen to all sorts of performers. I think listening to a bad performance can help too, so don’t just listen to the historically great performers.” For Beilman and Tyson, performing music is like delivering a gift. “My advice for when you are performing is to remember that never are people wanting to hear you make a mistake - they are on your side and they want to hear great music,” says Beilman. “If you are performing in an exam, think in a different way. Think about how you are delivering someone’s music to them. You’re a channel. Offer them your music.”

Getting Your Analysis Muscle In-Shape With MMASS by Hannah Spracklan-Holl

We spoke with MMASS' Matthew Lorenzon to get the scoop on the upcoming Summer School in Melbourne. Read all about it, then get your ticket at the link below!

For those who don’t already know, can you explain what MMASS is?

MMASS is a week-long party with an intensive lecture series on music analysis attached. People come from all around the world to drink coffee, eat croissants, and nut out musical structure in the neo-baroque surroundings of Benvenuta at Medley Hall. Most importantly, it is a celebration of thought. One of the biggest lies we tell ourselves is that Australia is an intellectually unambitious country where active things like learning stand opposed to passive enjoyment. This affects our view of music, which is relegated to the realm of passive consumption. In reality, so many Australian know the pleasure of asking questions and finding answers. We know, as Carl Sagan put it, that “understanding is a kind of ecstasy.”

On a more serious note, we teach subjects that Universities might not have the budget or student numbers to teach. We want to expose performers to analytical tools that will enrich their understanding of the music they play, that young musicologists can use in their postgraduate studies, or that composers can use when creating new music.

For a music analysis newbie, some of the topics covered at MMASS, like general deformation and advanced techniques in post-tonal analysis, sound a little bit scary. Is MMASS accessible for beginners?

They’re exciting, not scary! All enthusiastic learners who can read music will enjoy the school. Each course covers both basic principles and sophisticated examples that get the whole room talking. Nobody will absorb everything, but you will leave with an idea of what is possible in music analysis. Courses in mathematics and the sciences do this all the time. It is understood that students won’t grasp everything, but they get to see fleshed-out applications of theories and can read up on them after the course.

How is the Summer School different to the Winter School, which took place earlier this year?

The summer school runs for a whole week and includes five long courses and a series of keynotes. It’s an absolute analysis-fest covering repertoire from the baroque period to today and participants have access to the entire program. The Winter School on the other hand is a very focussed event that looks at one particular work for one day.

What on the program are you most excited about?

Given the gender imbalance in the music analysis scene I am very excited about our female lecturers, Catherine Falk and Natalie Williams. Williams is an excellent composer and music analyst who has been working at Indiana University and who has returned to Australia as a lecturer at the ANU School of Music. She brings a wealth of expertise on contemporary music and I can’t wait to hear about her research specialty, twentieth-century counterpoint.

Falk is one of Australia’s most distinguished ethnomusicologists. Given music analysis’ traditional focus on western art music, I think it’s great that so many people ask me to include lectures on non-western musics. This is of course a sensitive area and our first step in this direction is Falk’s keynote on responsible speech about musics of the world. We still have a long way to go to achieving gender parity at MMASS, but I am encouraged by the amount of excellent papers by women in the student symposium.

Richard Cohn is back as well from Yale and is following up his course on meter from last year with a full five-lecture course on chromatic harmony. Everyone’s thrilled to have him back!

What sets MMASS apart?

In comparison with other academic events the stand-out feature of MMASS is the warmth and camaraderie among participants. The lecturers sit in on and contribute to each other’s courses and get into great debates with each other and the students. Even though it’s a lecture-based course, there is very little sense of “us and them.” This atmosphere spills over into the evenings where we have a reception, dinner, and student micro-symposium. The micro-symposium is after the final lecture on Thursday and last year I was amazed (should I have been?) to find that almost everyone stayed on after a long day of lectures to hear the student papers. It’s that kind of supportive environment that makes me want to do this every year!

Demystifying Music Technology: The Difference is in the Detail by Christopher Steller

Having just completed a project involving nineteen piano pieces, the majority with accompaniment, I had plenty of opportunities to try different sampled or modelled instruments for the various virtual ensembles.

Using modelled instruments in Wallender's WIVI gave me very satisfying results, mainly due to the smooth transitions between dynamic regions and the response of the instruments. The one thing lacking for me was the mechanical and performance noises produced by the player. I'll quickly explain before your mind goes in the wrong direction.

The breathiness of the flute, or the clicking of the bassoon's mechanics, for example, are all part of an intimate performance. The harder edge produced in a sound when accents are needed, is another example.

The basic sampled instrument sounds of a DAW may cater to this, but not often. A multi-sampled, velocity switched instrument will have various layers to emulate different dynamics of playing, so playing technique needs to be refined for the purpose of accessing these layers.

In my last project the parts were already played into Cubase, and because the original player didn't have access to the same sound library, the parts were not as accurately played to utilise dynamic layers. Unfortunately, this meant that certain opportunities were missed when it came to the expressiveness of the accompaniment. The beauty of working with MIDI is that the problem is easily fixed!

If you look at the image of the Cubase Key Editor (or Piano Roll in other DAWs), you can see the played notes on screen, and their relevant velocities along the bottom. If you select the pencil tool you can redraw these velocities with a quick stroke, or drag the top of the velocity line up or down to hear the various layers available. You can also adjust note lengths on this screen.

When I'm working with this screen I like to loop four or eight bars and adjust velocities on the fly, listening to the results in context on the the next loop around.

Remember! If you are presenting an audio version of your composition for the consideration of a listener/investor/collaborator, spending some extra time on making sure the accompaniment works well with your main instrument (and sounds realistic) can make a big difference.

From The Organ Loft: The Compulsive Recitalist by Edwin Kwong

I was recently chatting to Michael Fulcher, the Director of Music at Christ Church South Yarra, and he noted that my teacher, Thomas Heywood, seems to be a ‘compulsive recitalist’. Since he performs dozens of recitals each year, both within Australia and in his multiple concert tours overseas, I’m more than inclined to agree.

However, it made me think about my own concertising habits – am I a compulsive recitalist too? Evidence would certainly suggest so: so far this year, I’ve performed in 15 recitals and concerts, with a few more coming up over the next few months. But why do I feel the need to give so many concerts, sometimes at the expense of my own sanity?!

Mostly, I think I just have a tendency to over share – at least musically anyway! I enjoy the challenge of preparing for a recital, and sharing with the audience works of music that I think are absolutely beautiful, or new works which they might not have heard before. So far this year, I’ve given the Australian premieres of organ works from New Zealand, France, and Italy, with plans to introduce a collection of modern Icelandic organ works and a set of variations by an American composer next year.

It gives me immense joy to create and share music with others, and that joy is especially magnified when members of the audience inform me afterwards what kind of emotions were stirred up within them after hearing a particular piece of music that I’ve just performed. I’ve had one gentleman come up to me after a recital earlier this year, on the verge of tears – remarking to me how moving my performance of the Adagietto from Mahler’s 5th Symphony was. It was most certainly a very emotional experience for us both!

But I am certainly compulsive in my concertising: in fact, I get anxious if I don’t perform a recital for too long, and this is coming from someone who plays every Sunday at church! However, as I have remarked in previous articles in From the Organ Loft, there is something unique to playing organ repertoire. For violinists, cellists and most other instrumentalists, they play music on the same instruments for a long period of time. But us organists have the unique challenge of having to adapt to new instruments and new buildings often on the go, and having to adjust our musical choices accordingly. Unless I am playing on the same instrument, there is no such thing for me as having the same musical experience, even when playing the same piece of music!

So for an organist like me, being a compulsive recitalist never gets dull. Even if I perform the same programme multiple times, as long as I am playing on a different instrument it is a brand new experience all over again. Essentially, it’s never Groundhog Day for organists!

Perhaps then the real question is – why am I so compulsive in feeling the need to perform concerts? I think it is something to do with the fact that the organ has the largest range of repertoire for any instrument. Aside from the incredible wealth of original organ works, there also exists an incredible variety of transcriptions from orchestral works, to solo pieces for other instruments, to chamber works. There is never a shortage of music for an organist to learn. As someone who loves to gobble up information and knowledge in my daily life, it is then no surprise that I love to compulsively learn new pieces of music consistently. And as a bit of a showman from time to time, it is no surprise either that I enjoy showing off all of the new music that I’ve been learning to audiences.

I really do strongly believe in the healing properties of music, so whenever I perform a concert, it is not only to satisfy my ego, but it is also an act of service to those who take the time out to listen to my offerings. So if you are a musician, I hope that you will offer something meaningful to an audience, no matter how big or small, soon; and if you are a prospective audience member, I hope that you will go and satisfy a musician’s big ego in the near future.

In Conversation: Fiona Jopson, Soprano

You have just returned from Perth after making your role debut as Ariadne and Prima Donna in Richard Strauss’ Ariadne auf Naxos – can you tell me about the rehearsal process?

Before flying to Perth I had spoken with our director, Kathryn Osborne about her vision for the project. This allowed me to do some character work with my acting coach in Melbourne to find the physicality of each character to then be able to layer and dive in with whatever was asked of me in production calls.

I arrived in Perth on August 3 and went straight into music calls the next day for the first 2 weeks. The entire cast by this point has learnt and memorised their music. This was the first time I met the cast, our repetiteur Ryan Davies and our conductor Christopher Dragon. As this piece is ensemble driven this part of the process is essential for building rapport with your conductor for his musical vision and with your cast mates before heading into production calls on August 21.

Production calls were a lot of fun. Our director Katt allowed us to be playful to discover our characters and the interactions with each other on stage, which strengthened our ensemble. During this time I really got to know the Ariadne auf Naxos team. They are some of the most amazing people and artists I have met!

Once we made it to the theatre on September 4, was when things really amped up. This is the point where you have to be adaptable and take risks. Lots of changes occur during tech rehearsals – stage directions, change in characterization, adjusting so that you are able to see the conductor wherever you are on the stage, musical changes and balance in the theatre. Also during this time you receive notes/feedback from the director and the conductor to assist in correcting mistakes and to improve your overall performance before opening night.

Being in the moment was so important through this process. This production for me was the most gratifying experience – singing and acting. The OperaBox Ariadne auf Naxos team during this entire process, have been so passionate, supportive and have become like family. I have been so lucky to make new friends!

This is only a small snap shot of the process up to opening night!

Having recently made the jump to working as a full time freelance opera singer, can you tell me about that decision, and what has changed for you since making it?

This was a decision I had been thinking about for a while. There was a lot of fear about all of the things that could possibly go wrong. A really dear friend of mine kept reminding me that it’s down to ”what do you want”. In that moment I made the decision to jump all in to being a full time freelancing opera singer. Two hours after resigning from my job I was booked for a gig – this reassured me that I had made the right choice.

Having won the prestigious Herald Sun Aria, among other awards, do you have some techniques that you rely on when going into a competition? How do you tackle your nerves?

Nerves have been and still are a constant battle. There was a point that stage fright was so bad I couldn’t perform. This was a turning point for me and I went back to basics – concentrating on my singing technique to improve and develop it so that it was even more reliable and gave no room for any doubt each time I stepped onto the stage. This is something I keep doing everyday. I’m still human and I get nervous before going onstage….It is a mental game against yourself. Trust in yourself. Trust that you have done the work.

I really think it is an individual thing on how you deal with nerves as we all handle nerves differently. It’s part of everyday life making sure to look after your body and mind – massages, reading, meditation, walking, getting plenty of sleep and so on. In the weeks leading up to the Herald Sun Aria I also tried something new – hypnosis.

As a soprano working in both lead and chorus roles, you must have a lot of music to learn at any given time. What is your method to stay in control under the work load?

It’s always important to breakdown into pages of music needed to learn into the time (days, weeks, months, etc) you have before the engagement - Concentrating on what is happening first and then moving onto the next. Source the music you need, then move onto sourcing a translation that you relate to, write the translation into the score, speak through the language, coach that language – especially if you don’t speak it. Then sit at a piano and learn your notes & rhythm to work up to singing into the tempo that is written. It is then time to go and work with an accompanist/vocal coach to really settle it musically and to find your phrasing. Then memorise. Once you get to your first rehearsal you are well prepared and are then able to do what is asked by the conductor. Even when rehearsals and performances are happening you are still constantly refining and discovering. This is only the music side. If you are in a fully staged opera you have character work and research to do as well before the first production call with your director.

You will be heading overseas towards the end of the year – do you think it is essential for young opera singers to get to Europe or the United States to further their career?

It’s important for singers to travel and experience opera outside of Australia to broaden your view, musical tastes and languages, which is essential for what we do.

It doesn’t matter if you choose to have a career here in Australia or overseas. Experiencing the language and culture of other countries is extremely beneficial in our artistic development and understanding the operas and the roles we sing, as we never stop learning.

What are your favourite roles to sing?

At the moment I love singing Ariadne but I also have a real connection with Versimo repertoire, Puccini and Verdi. I have been lucky enough to sing Mimi in La Boheme and I am currently preparing to sing my very first Verdi role in early 2017.

There are so many roles I am wanting to sing – Tosca, Cio Cio San (Madama Butterfly), Manon (Manon Lescaut), Suor Angelica, Elisabeth (Don Carlos), Leonora (La Forza del Destino) and the list goes on

What advice would you love to have received when you were starting out as an opera singer?

I recently watched an interview on YouTube with Cheryl Barker and her advice, which came from her teacher Dame Joan Hammond is - “The slowest road is the best road” and I really believe this to be true, especially for a singer with a dramatic voice. These voices take time to mature and you have to be smart about the choice of repertoire you sing and what is it appropriate at the time.

I am also a big believer of a time, place and reason for things in life.

After Ariadne auf Naxos, what is keeping you busy in 2016?

I’m off to Scone, NSW for some rest and spend time with my family before heading off to Europe in late October. I will also be preparing my next role, which will be in early 2017.

In Conversation: Tinalley String Quartet

As you discuss in your program note, Beethoven’s life and music has become a fixture in the lives of many music-loving writers, programmers and directors. We have heard his melodies in everything from cult films to television advertisements, and yet his own words are very rarely considered. What inspired Tinalley to use Beethoven’s letters to put together this fascinating new look at the man we all think we know?

Letters, like music, are an amazing tool of self expression. I think it's something we've lost a little as a society; when was the last time that any of us wrote a letter (that wasn't a two line text message) that really allowed people to have an insight into who we are?! Beethoven's correspondence allows us to truly see how he lived, the struggles he faced, and the man that exists behind such remarkable music - the juxtaposition of this against his quartets makes for an incredibly moving musical journey. We were lucky to develop the idea with Anna Melville for the 2011 Beethoven Festival, and we've decided to revisit the concept in our series this year.

The exceptional John Bell will be portraying Beethoven, by reading his letters as you perform movements from his string quartets. What stylistic decisions have you and Bell made to help develop this complex character through both words and music?

It's unusual for us to be performing many single movements from quartets as opposed to entire works, however I must say that it's a really eye-opening experience in understanding the quartets when they rest amongst the letters. It really gives us an idea of where Beethoven's mind was at the time he composed each and every note we're playing. Similarly, John Bell gets to hear the music of the man he is portraying! Whilst there's nothing specifically stylistic that we've decided, it's undoubtedly true that our interpretations are being influenced by the words we hear.

You begin the program with Mendelssohn - a composer greatly influenced by the works of Beethoven. What stood out to you about the Opus 13 Quartet when programming?

The Op. 13 Quartet was composed by Mendelssohn in 1827 (the year of Beethoven's death) and as such, it is a truly wonderful compositional homage. There are echoes of Beethoven's late quartets throughout the work, yet it is still truly 'Mendelssohn' in every way - a remarkable feat for an 18 year old! On a personal note, the Op. 13 is a quartet very dear to Tinalley - we performed it extensively following our win at the Banff Competition in 2007, and toured it extensively in both Europe and North America. Having 'lived' with it for a long time, we knew it would be the perfect pairing for 'Beethoven's Letters'.

Does the program follow a chronological trajectory, and do the dates of the chosen quartets correlate with the dates the letters were written? How did you go about choosing the quartet movements for the program?

The letters and music are mostly chronological, with one or two exceptions. Each movement was chosen to reflect either the mood of the letter, or the time it was written - so essentially it's true to the 'life' of Beethoven, both in words and music.

Tinalley Quartet is known for their exceptional collaborations with artists of different medium and genre. Tell us about how you came to know John Bell, and the process of collaboration for you as an ensemble.

We've been incredibly lucky to work with some remarkable artists as a quartet, and this year is no exception (having worked with Lior at the start of the year for our first series program). In thinking about who we could work with on Beethoven's Letters, we needed to find someone who would essentially be the 'voice' of Beethoven, and as such we wanted someone who could bring incredible gravitas to the role. We thought asking John Bell would be a dream - and it turned out to be a dream come true when he said he'd be interested in working with us!

‘Speak less than you know’ comes from Shakespeare’s King Lear - can you explain the importance of literature to music in your experiences, and why you chose to highlight the Bard in this way?

A few years ago, when we first began putting together our quartet seasons in Australia, someone had mentioned we should have a 'tag line' describing us as a quartet (for marketing). It seemed like an odd thing at the time, but we came up with the notion that having toured and performed all over the world, the world was, in fact, our stage. So - 'the world is our stage' became our 'line'. This was essentially a variation on the phrase from Shakespeare's 'As You Like It'. From that, we ended up basing all of the names of our series concerts drawing from Shakespeare...we have as much endless inspiration from him as we do incredible quartets to play!

You have been working together for over 10 years now. How has your creative process developed since you began playing as an ensemble?

2016 marks our 13th year as a quartet - it seems like both a lifetime ago and yesterday in some ways! I think the thing that we notice most is our ability to get through a huge amount in a short space of time now; working together for as long as we have means that many musical things happen very naturally without the need for extensive discussion! But I think the best part is that our values haven't changed much at all. We still love playing together after all this time, and still love the music more than anything.

Demystifying Music Technology: Wallander Solves The Case by Christopher Steller

(If you've never seen Kenneth Branagh in this role, just forget this title ever existed)

Work continues on the piece I'm composing for my virtual piano/violin/clarinet trio, but I'm still experiencing problems with the clarinet instrument that I've been using. When the clarinet is playing a legato part, it has a nice smooth attack, and blends well with the other instruments, but when it needs to play a quick flurry of notes the upper layers of the sampled instrument don't have a quick enough attack. Unless a sampled instrument has a very comprehensive range of layers (i.e. Gigabytes of individual recorded notes), you will occasionally encounter this problem.

An alternative solution to sampled instruments would be to use a physically modelled plugin, but finding one to do the job is another problem.

I remembered meeting a software instrument developer in Anaheim at one of the exhibitions I attended some years ago, who had developed a virtual instrument that emulated a sound environment and a range of brass and woodwind models. Arne Wallander, of Wallander Instruments, was demonstrating his software at the show, using a computer, keyboard and Yamaha BC-3 breath controller (which allowed him to introduce extra expression into the performance of the instrument by blowing).

I contacted Arne and asked about the product, and he directed me to his WIVI plugin - after downloading and installing the software, which was a painless process, I began to explore the sounds.

You can select the sound environment that the instruments will perform in, with theatre, church or recording studio the basic choices. At the front of the stage is the ‘listener’, so all instrument positioning relates to that spot.

Clicking on the ‘+’ button at bottom right opens the instrument list (I downloaded the orchestral & band brass, and woodwinds & saxophones), and after selecting an instrument from the list it appears on the stage in an appropriate position, which can be changed by dragging to a different location. If you are playing your keyboard while you drag, you will notice the reverb effect changing, more reverb as you move away from the listener. You can even change the direction that the instrument is playing with the red arrow - towards the ‘listener’ or facing the instrument away.

The bottom right section of the plugin gives you the choice of input device, which for most people will be the mod wheel and velocity option - this choice allows you to control playing expression from these two controls. For those fortunate enough to own a BC-3 breath controller from Yamaha, this option allows you to add breath control to your instruments,giving a more natural feel.

If you are a brass/woodwind composer I strongly urge you to visit Arne's site and listen to some of the demonstrations he has available. He has also developed virtual instruments for iPhone and iPad, so a more portable format, plus a unique instrument package to work seamlessly with Sibelius software, which I may explore at another time.

Enjoy your music!

In Conversation: Argo Presents Illuminae

Illuminae is based on the best-selling sci-fi novel of the same name. What about the story captivated you as composers, and how has the text translated into a major work?

Connor: As part of this collaboration with Brisbane Writers Festival, a few months back they were going to send us a selection of texts for us to choose from and base the concert around it. There was a selection of Australian and New Zealander poets, and this. At first, having read its blurb but before reading the book, I thought this would take too much work to do justice – it sounded like it really did want to be written into a full-on opera or dramatic stage work, and that would be way too much work for the time we had. But, after we read it, passing the one book between the three of us (Ben, Patrick Murphy and I), we knew we had to give it a shot regardless. The writing has such an epic sense of scale, with much of the narrative conveyed through the captains logs of star cruiser fleets, military transcripts and the like, contrasted with the intimacy of characters' thoughts, journals and dialogue. There is scope for anything and everything in the book, so it gave us a chance to really shape the narrative of the concert around how we've selected text from the book.

Ben: Yeah I really enjoyed both reading the book and translating it into music. My opening approach was to look at it as if I was scoring a film of the book. This basically involved developing a cohesive sound world to compose the music out of. A combination of analogue sounding synths, complex soundscapes and lush strings is what ended up eventuating. Then the ideas had to be pushed, unlike in a film score, into the realm of live performance. This was when I developed the idea of conducting with my right hand while controlling the electronics with my left hand (3D motion tracking is so much fun to work with). I also have a click which I can bring in or out to have tempo-synced synth along with the live music.

The story has elements of classic opera themes – love, death, betrayal – but set on an unknown planet in the distant future! How does your instrumentation and the inclusion of electronics place your audience in an alien land, while still reflecting the gravity of the themes?

Connor: It's funny, we've been calling this concert a "surround sound space opera", but truth be told, there isn't actually any singing! So many reviews of the book referred to it as a space opera or something similar, and we kinda just took that on. But it's just as you said, it does reflect on such operatic themes and exists on a similarly operatic scale. When looking to translate this all to music, the combination of electronics with a string orchestra was the perfect fit; the synths and electronics give it a biting, futuristic edge, while the strings provide the emotional depth and foundation to the narrative.

Ben: Yeah to me this concert’s instrumentation has a great dichotomy between experimentation and emotion. I absolutely love using electronics because it allows me to create sounds and textures that nobody has ever heard before, but at the same time, nothing beats the nuance and emotion of a human performer on an acoustic instrument. I often use a combination of electronics and solo instruments in my own works but this is the first time that I’ve been able meld a larger ensemble with electronics in an effective way.

The novel was written by Melbourne authors, and the performance features leading Australian soloists. Was showcasing Australian talent a priority for you when putting together this concert?

Connor: I think showcasing Australian talent in many ways is a given - we work with local artists and exist in a community of like-minded and enthusiastic people. It's really fantastic to see so much talent coming from local soil. I was super excited for Argo to be brought in on this project by Patrick Murphy, cellist of the Southern Cross Soloists, and to be given the opportunity to take the lead. It was also great to work with the Brisbane Writers Festival, which is itself an amazing showcase of local talent.

Argo produces events that are not simply performances, but experiences. What can we expect at Illuminae, as audience members?

Ben: I think it will be a multi-layered experience that people can approach in many different ways. Some people will enjoy shutting their eyes while getting lost in another universe - the sound design is very immersive and hopefully people will be able to follow the plot along. Other people will prefer to watch the musicians and the setting sun. And finally all the technologically minded people will be trying to work out how exactly I am managing to gesturally control electronics, trigger synth patches, conduct and fire off voiceover clips all at once, as will I...

Connor: Any concert at twilight in the Red Box at SLQ (State Library of Queensland) is a really beautiful experience, too. The stage is surrounded on three sides by glass and juts out over the Brisbane River, giving you views of the water and the city beyond. And as the sun sets, you can see its reflection on the windows of the buildings and in the water, so that alone will be pretty special!

As composers, what about literature and the written word is inspiring for you? What books have influenced your music the most?

Ben: Literature is incredibly inspiring for me; it’s the art form I’m most into apart from music (that is excepting film, but I always see my videographic work as an extension of my music). I believe words are incredibly powerful in terms of the sheer emotional impact they can have and the way people can connect and relate to them instantly. Whenever I write vocal music I always write the text myself in order to express myself through both mediums.

In Conversation: Greg Eldridge, Director

As part of the Jette Parker Young Artist Programme (and subsequently being an Associate Artist) at the prestigious Royal Opera House in London, you’ve had the opportunity to work with some incredible singers and directors. Can you tell us about a moment that took you completely out of your comfort zone?

There have been so many – but one of an assistant’s key jobs is to know the show so well that if a performer is missing from rehearsal, we can walk the role so that we don’t lose precious rehearsal time. This means that I’ve been (un)lucky enough to carry flaming barrels onstage in a performance , have a swordfight with Bryn Terfel and be ‘drunken whore #3’ in a scene with Jonas Kaufmann!

What are the major steps you undertake before heading into the rehearsal room for the first time? Do you have a general method, or does it change depending on the production?

It varies depending on whether I’m leading the rehearsal (as a Revival Director or Director) or whether I’m supporting the rehearsal (as an Assistant Director). In both cases, an absolute knowledge of the show is essential, which means knowing the text and the music (of course) and where every person on stage is meant to be (which can be a challenge with big chorus shows of 100 people on stage, each doing something important). Then there’s knowing the details of the production – not just ‘then that character moves downstage-left’ but why they need to do that. And also all of the other background of the piece – what the opera was based on (and having a knowledge of that particular play, novel or historical figure), what the composer was trying to say to the audience at the show’s premiere and the details of the composer’s relationship to the librettist and the subject matter. There’s a lot to get through, and for a big show I’d take several months to prepare so that I’d be comfortable leading a rehearsal with international-level singers.

What about the operatic art form keeps you engaged?

The epic scale. Unlike an Ibsen or a Chekov where the choices a character makes can have far-reaching consequences for their immediate community, most opera is about characters caught in situations where decisions have far-reaching ramifications for everyone. This is part of why I think opera is such a perfect ground for thrashing out big universal ideas, and why it continues to be such a popular form of theatre.

Next up for you is embarking on one of the biggest operatic productions of all time - Wagner’s Ring. The production is bringing you home to Australia. What excites you about being part of this large scale production?

I love the Ring – this will be the third time I’ve worked on a Ring Cycle (the first 2 being in the UK) and I really can’t wait to get started. There seems to be such a veil of snobbery around Wagner in general and the Ring in particular, and when I first got a contract to work on the Longborough Ring in 2010, I thought it was going to be too dense and difficult and lofty for me to be able to make sense of. But the truth is that it’s a masterpiece of storytelling and creates such a compelling and atmospheric world. People have said that they can’t imagine sitting through it because of its length (and I used to be one of them!) but it’s really more like binge-watching a series than watching a really long movie. I’ve totally sat down and watched 4 or 5 Game of Thrones episodes in a row, and so I think audiences are again becoming used to sitting down and investing in a world for hours at a time. And the similarities between the Ring and GoT don’t end there, either!!

What are the challenges in reworking operas that many audience members know intimately?

I think the great challenge with opera, as with other theatre forms whose stories have been around for a long time (Shakespeare, Moliere, the Greeks) is that there are 2 groups of people in an audience – those that know the stories really well and are coming to see your interpretation, and those who are there to experience the story for the first time. I think the really big challenge is in trying to tread a line between the two so that the story is clear enough for people to be able to follow while also trying to offer your own insight into the piece that doesn’t swamp (too many of) the original intentions of the playwright/librettist/composer.

You’ve been in London, and all over Europe for several years now. Does the Ring Cycle mean you’re spending a bit of time in Australia? What would you like to see happen in the next 5 years in the Australian operatic landscape?

Yes – I’m so excited to be back home for the first proper stretch in ages! This year will be my first Christmas at home in 6 years, and I can’t wait to spend it in a proper Aussie summer rather than staring miserably out of a cold, grey window! The Ring is the biggest undertaking in the operatic world (17 hours over 4 nights) and so there’s a lot of rehearsal needed! All in all, this revival starts production (staging) rehearsals in August - although there will have been months of music coaching before that – and will finish its run of performances in December, so there’ll be plenty of time for me to remember the joy of Tim Tams and Vegemite!

I think opera in Australia is on the verge of breaking into a new paradigm – there are so many very talented performers, musicians, directors and designers who are desperate to perform and so more and more I think the focus will shift to the smaller-scale works which really give cast and creatives an opportunity to tell honest and intimate stories. In the UK there has been for some little time a thriving fringe and festival scene which has helped keep opera at the forefront of the theatrical vanguard, and while there must always be a place for large-scale presentations of grand works, I hope there will be an increasing presence of smaller companies who are pushing to tell stories that the bigger companies just can’t.

How can young people go about being involved in the production side of opera? What skills are essential to a young director?

The most important thing for me before I began pursuing a professional career as a director was to see as many things as I could. While I was at university I worked as an usher at the Arts Centre Melbourne, which has 3 indoor theatres as well as serving the Myer Music Bowl and over the 5 years I was there I would have seen in excess of 1000 performances from ballet, contemporary dance, opera and theatre to rock concerts, comedy events and festival pieces that were amalgams of several disciplines. And each one –whether I loved it or hated it – taught me a little bit more about my craft, about why a certain lighting state worked and why another didn’t, why a pause made an audience laugh one night and not the next, why a stage shape worked brilliantly on a large stage and why a bit of set just didn’t quite work in a smaller theatre. I also think that the most important asset to a young director is the ability to observe. I’ve assisted many directors – good, bad and indifferent – and for each of them my method was the same: I tried to ascertain what they wanted (from the performer, conductor, designer) and then observe how they set about achieving it. That taught me such a lot about how to interact with people and, crucially, the things that I would put my foot down about in my own productions.

As with all roles in the arts, productions come with good and bad reviews. How do you deal with feedback, whether positive or negative?

I think there’s a big difference between reviews and real feedback. Reviews are a double-edged sword – some of them can absolutely provide you with feedback, but only if you know and trust the expertise of the person making the comments. The rise of the blogger-reviewer has led to a vast number of sites where people of varying degrees of experience, knowledge and understanding have free reign to say whatever they like and it lives as a permanent archive of a critique of your work. I’m certainly all for discussions about works and interpretations, but there are very few people I think are truly qualified to call themselves ‘critics’ in the truest sense of the word. Feedback from people I trust is one of the most important things in my professional life and feedback from people whose expertise I question is one of the least.

When you are involved in a casting process for a production you are directing, what do you look for in an audition? What stands out to you?

In the big houses, directors are rarely involved in casting as it takes place several years ahead. When I do attend auditions, I try as much as I can to make them a workshop rather than a stand-and-deliver. Not only do I get tremendously bored in those situations, but I think the real test of whether someone is right for the part comes when I work with them to see how open they are to new ideas, how excited they are to play, how capable they are when I throw different things at them rather than them just presenting their one ‘good’ audition aria or monologue. It’s usually someone’s attitude when we start to play rather than their technical ability that I remember (…and here’s a big secret – I’m really terrible with names, so I tend to draw a caricature of people on their audition forms so I can remember who they are … my contributions in casting meetings tend to be ‘I really loved Moustache Face but I was concerned that Flower Dress was a bit too hesitant’..!!)

REHEARSALmagazine is site for developing artists. What advice would you have loved to receive during your first directorial position?

I wish someone had told me that the director doesn’t have to do everything. I had this idea in my head that directing a show meant leading the production from the front in all areas, but the biggest lesson has been that collaboration is essential. That means finding the right design team, the right stage management, the right company management to support both the project and the way I like to work. Once I have these elements in place, the trust is already established and when I delegate things I can be secure that everything will be cared about. I think the hardest thing was that on my first shows I felt that I had to love the show the most, whereas now I’ve found that if everyone is on board for the right reasons, we’ll all care equally about every part of the show that falls within our responsibility.

What differences have you found between working with European opera companies and Australian opera companies? For young singers and directors planning to study and work overseas, what should the be prepared for?

There’s certainly a lot more work around in Europe, mainly because there’s a stronger operatic tradition both in mainland Europe and the UK. One of the great disadvantages in Australia is that we’re so far away and so it’s harder to get an immediate appreciation of references and situations in operas that are second-nature to Europeans. Anyone can sing ‘O mio babbino caro’ beautifully, but it wasn’t until I went to Florence and walked along the Ponte Vecchio that I really understood the imagery that was being used. The flip-side is that all of the Australians I know who are enjoying careers in Europe (and there are many) are routinely celebrated for their work ethic.

It’s a super-hard business to get into and requires massive sacrifices both from you as the artist and your loved ones. I sometimes give talks to groups of young directors in the UK, and one of the things I tell every session is that it’s important to find the ‘mafia’ that will best support you wherever you go. In my case, I was able to use the ‘Australian-mafia’ to club together with other Australians and we’d all look out for each other and help each other along with everything from finding houses to getting jobs. Just like directing, working with a good team is going to help you get further faster than slogging through by yourself!

From The Organ Loft: Improvisation by Edwin Kwong

In today’s classical music tradition, improvisation no longer plays the huge role it once did. It is extremely rare to find an improvised piece of music within any mainstream classical concert, except possibly as an occasional encore. Yet, it is still very much the bread and butter of a church organist. It is no secret that the organ is inextricably linked with the Western church, but very few people, churchgoers or otherwise, know what a church organist actually does. That is however the topic of discussion for another time – I’ve decided to make improvisation this article’s focus.

Whilst supporting congregational singing is at the heart of every church organist’s job, improvisation is also a significant part of the job description. The amount of improvisation that an organist is required to do of course varies, as different churches have different requirements, and different countries have different traditions. But at the very least, we are required to improvise music to fill in otherwise silent gaps that inevitably exist in any service. On the other hand, in the French tradition, the organist improvises for the majority of the service – with the most extensive improvisations often occurring before and after the service.

An organist will often draw on themes from the hymns/chants of the day to build their improvisations from, but it is not uncommon to find an organist exercising their sense of humour within an improvisation by including secular/popular themes in it. Whilst organists certainly can, and will as that article demonstrates, use popular music as themes for improvisation with various aims, concert organists without the constraints of the church do often use such themes in recitals to entertain their audience, as this video of Olivier Latry improvising on Hedwig’s Theme from Harry Potter demonstrates.

A good amount of creative inspiration is of course needed for a successful and interesting improvisation, but preparation and education are also key components. Going back again to the revered French school of improvisation – during his time at the Paris Conservatoire, Marcel Dupré would not admit students into his organ class unless they could accompany a Gregorian plainchant, improvise a verset on a plainchant, improvise a fugue in four voices, and improvise on a given theme spontaneously. This required the student to have an extremely sound knowledge of music theory, especially of the relationships between all the keys, and counterpoint, as Monsieur Dupré particularly valued the importance of contrapuntal writing.

Much of these skillsets are still required in churches all around the world, and you will often hear organists improvising for anything they’ve been asked to do (quite often this request will come in just before the service starts, leaving them with little time to prepare!). In fact, improvisation really is at the heart of Western classical music. The great Johann Sebastian Bach was first and foremost renowned as an improviser in his day, and there is the popular story that he challenged the famous French harpsichordist Louis Marchand to an improvisation duel in Dresden – but the contest never took place, since Marchand had fled before the contest even began, as he realised that he was in for an embarrassing defeat! Indeed, many of the greatest composers were also great improvisers, such as Handel, Scarlatti, Mozart, Beethoven, Chopin, and Liszt to but name a few.

Unfortunately, improvisation doesn’t have the same archaeological record as written-down compositions do – and this might have contributed to its decline in status within the Western classical music tradition. But I would argue that it ought to be a part of musical education again, as being a musician is not simply about interpreting, but also about creating. Perhaps not all of us have the creative spark to sit down and compose a sonata, but with adequate education, all of us certainly have the means to sit down and improvise, maybe even on the theme of Old MacDonald had a Farm!

Writing An Excellent Programme Note by Jess Crowe

What makes a good programme note? Here’s a handy guide to help you get started.

The purpose of a programme note is to give your audience a little background information on what you’re playing and who wrote it. It doesn’t have to be super dull though. Your job is to make it interesting.

How you go about writing a programme note also depends on how many words you’ve got to work with - and sometimes it can be tougher to stick to 100 words than 1000. The more restrictive a word count, the harder you’ll have to work in cutting down what you include. The most basic programme note needs to include something about the piece you’re playing and the (probably) dude who wrote it. Really good programme notes point out the cool, interesting stuff about your piece – like the story behind its creation. The best programme notes demonstrate that you’ve put some thought into what you’re writing, and include a bit of yourself.

First and foremost: programme notes don’t need references. While some of you may see that as a license to copy/paste, don’t go yoinking from Wikipedia just yet; that’s a massive cop-out. You’re better than that. Also a quick google will immediately show what you’ve done - think of the shame people. The SHAME.

The first thing you should do is sit down and listen to a recording of your piece - here’s an excuse to find your favourite version, kick back and enjoy. While you’re listening, write down any parts that are noteworthy – for example, the quirky instrumentation, the beautiful melody line, the interesting harmony, or just a section you love in particular, and why.

Next up, find a bio of your composer. Grove Online should be your first stop to get the complete picture, but there are some other handy places you should look too. The Classic FM website (http://classicfm.com/) has some convenient composer summaries, and yes, you are allowed to look at Wikipedia - just don’t copy it! Resist the urge! These simpler summaries are written in a more informal conversational style to Grove, which I personally find makes it easier to understand the situation behind your composer and the piece, and therefore writing your own summary that much better. A quick google should leave you with at least three or four good bio’s: your job is to summarise them in your own words. Once again, here's where your word limit becomes an issue - sometimes your summary can be a paragraph, other times you'll need to cut it down to one or two sentences max.

If the piece you’re playing is somewhat famous, sweet! You should also be able to find a bunch of info about it online, similar to the composer bio’s. You’d be surprised at how many pieces of music have a hilarious story behind their conception: for example, I recently wrote a short programme note for Debussy’s Rapsodie pour orchestre et saxophone. Apparently, Debussy was commissioned to write it, took the money, and then just...forgot about it? For several years? Who does that?! Debussy, apparently. That kind of anecdote is fantastic for a programme note. If the piece isn't famous, or maybe brand new, and you can't find a lot written about it, here's where your own experience of the piece can play a bigger role. If you can contact the actual composer and ask them about it, great, but that's obviously not always possible.

If you’ve followed along this far, your note should include a nice bio of your composer, a cool summary of the piece - what it is, how it was written if that’s at all noteworthy, maybe something about its structure - but the end of your note is a chance for you to put your own stamp on it. The stuff you wrote down when you listened to your piece? Bring that out here. Make this part a kind of “listening guide” for the audience; give them aural landmarks to listen out for. Is there a particularly violent climax in the third movement? Did the composer rip off a famous children’s tune? Is there a sudden surprise inclusion of the kazoo? Let us know! That way, when the audience is reading your note before hearing you play, they’ve got even more reasons to keep listening to you when you’re onstage.

Of course, this is just written from my own experience. If any of you have any questions about writing programme notes, or any suggestions for ideas I haven’t covered here or your methods if they differ, feel free to leave a comment, or even get in contact with us here at Rehearsal by emailing rehearsalmagazine@gmail.com! We're happy to help.

Postcard from Zürich by Campbell Banks

In a tunnel underneath Zürich International Airport, as you and your fellow shower-craving, be-cankled travellers are shuttled from terminal to baggage claim, flickering images of an archetypal Heidi burst onto the walls as cowbells jangle lazily. Startled out of your grumpy long-haul obliteration, your senses will awaken just in time to process a Swiss flag somersaulting into the air to the yelp of a yodeller’s yahoooo. Sallow, I-need-to-be-alone faces crease into uncertain laughter, as all nervously await the longed-for end station.

I didn’t make that up, stitching stray pieces of Swiss cultural paraphernalia together in a fiction. It really does happen, and that driverless train – which is likely to be your first impression of Zürich - embodies a certain distilled essence of the nation, Switzerland in the proverbial roasted chestnut shell. What can be gleaned from that under-airport journey is true of much of what you will encounter: stunning technical achievement, smooth functioning of the mechanical, cleanliness, efficiency, luxury in the everyday, folksy traditions, awkward humour and unsettling nationalism. It’s all there, if you knew to look for it. I moved to Zürich in 2007 and could only think of the film Children of Men, with its propagandising train windows and its Clive Owen. I can’t be certain what prodded the association, but I’m fairly confident it wasn’t because Clive was there.

Or maybe it was. It’s so long ago that it’s impossible to be sure what stirred the dust of my memory that day. Much has changed, in any case. At that time, I was dialling home in phone booths (remember those?), navigating a maze of numbers and codes and automated robo-voice condescension, a process so frequently maddening that I very infrequently suffered it (sorry, family). In the years since, I learned that for a returning Swiss traveller, those emblems of the national character are like a welcoming embrace, as comforting as a pot of molten cheese sponged dry by crusty bread or a steaming, sweet Glühwein, clutched between gloved or grateful hands on the rounds of a Christmas market in cold, grey December.

I have reached for the guidebook clichés there, but the ease of their imagining will not detract from the experience in real life. In most cases, your mind’s conjuring won’t even come close to the reality of Switzerland’s jewels. The Alps are unfathomably majestic, imposing and primordial, a genuine exemplar of the phrase awe-inspiring. The spring waterfalls that flow down them will charm and captivate, the snow a retreating spectre as you wind along impossibly scenic roads. You’ll wander wooded hills, paths dotted with rudimentary gym equipment; encounter and be mesmerised by Bambi (she has a gaze that stops the beat of time and heart); glimpse friends encircling open fires (legal), grilling Bratwürste and guzzling Bierflaschen (also legal); and discover unlikely vineyards clinging to hillsides, accompanied by the gentle clang of nearby cowbells. It is, truly, a spectacular land.

However, you venture there not as a tourist but as a music student, and it won’t all be smooth lake-bound sailing. For a nation so famous for the clockwork operation of its public transport and its, um, clocks, its bureaucracy is surprisingly convoluted, many-tiered and slow. Gradually I came to understand this as a symptom of Switzerland’s general economic protectionism, inserting employment strata where other countries streamline them. A positive for the workers, no doubt, but a concern for the foreign student sweating on the prompt processing of their residence permit.

Suspicion is an attitude you will encounter too often and that coveted permit (or as you will come to know it, your Ausweis) will be vital in allaying it – mostly because it states that you won’t be staying forever. As fond as I am of Switzerland, an honest account of an outsider’s experience there cannot hide from its rather unsubtle xenophobia. The famed train system - a faithful friend you’ll take for granted until moving countries and realising your loss - will be the site of most of your exposure. Teams of uniformed ticket inspectors regularly sweep through the carriages on a choreographed truffle hunt, stern-faced impersonators of Tommy-Lee Jones in The Fugitive, seeking that elusive passenger with a forgotten or invalid ticket. Once found, the theatrics can escalate rapidly and they will struggle to conceal their glee as they demand your permit and call the Migration Office. Or, waiting at train stations, you’ll feel cowed by or indignant towards political posters that scream at you from billboards, cartoons of comically obvious sentiment ensuring that nothing is lost in translation.

I don’t mean to frighten you, or to furrow the brows of my Swiss friends who are reading this with a rising sense of betrayal. Anyone who recounts their time lived abroad or tells tale of their wide travels will usually gloss over the negatives, aware of the privilege and good fortune inherent in their experience. I do tread that path ordinarily, but acquired knowledge is useless if not passed on. Any relocation involves challenges, whether from Australia to Switzerland or Hobart to Brisbane or even Carlton to Fitzroy. Securing an abode, cracking into cliques, contending with the new and uncomfortable; these are common difficulties, found anywhere. After a year in Melbourne, at the gently rumpling age of 31, inserting myself into established social circles is still a tremendous challenge, and that’s despite the celebrated openness of Australians. Moving isn’t easy.

For Zürich-specific advice: apartments tend to operate on a hand-me-down basis, with departing tenants nominating their successor to the realtor. As a shiny new inhabitant this will be a major obstacle, so opt for a room in a student house (Studentenheim) at first, they are easier to obtain and more conducive to quick social inclusion. To befriend the Swiss, try and try again to learn the language. This is the secret to getting through their coconut shell defence and finding the generous and loyal friend within. Finally, don’t be alarmed when you notice a stranger staring unwaveringly at you on a bus, train or footpath. Yes, your quizzical reaction is correct; it is weird and unnerving, but harmless. No Swiss person could ever suitably explain this trait to me, it’s just one of those things. Don’t take it personally and don’t try to win, a curious Swiss grandma cannot be defeated at this game. Simply look out the window and enjoy what is sure to be a lovely view.

And of music? What should you expect? I found a generally higher level of technical proficiency and an abundance of quality instruments; was shocked by undeveloped sight-reading skills and Bachelor students with no orchestral experience; felt gratified by the high concert attendance and genuine enthusiasm for being a musician; and took pleasure in the exposure to the many famous soloists, beautiful concert halls and lavish opera houses that you will have access to. Oh, also, there is Alphorn music. Be prepared for that.

Ultimately, a universal truth still applies: don’t choose a country or an institution to help you improve; choose a teacher. If that crucial relationship fails to nourish you sufficiently, you will be frustrated and unhappy no matter the beauty of the panorama, the warmth of the buildings in winter, the array of chocolate, the beer bought at a newsagent and drunk on a train, the proximity to Rome or Paris or London, the makes-sense-of-everything white Christmas, the salted footpaths, the bags of freshly roasted chestnuts on a sub-zero morning, the deserved reverence of the potato, the first birdsong in spring, or the dear and deeply missed friends you’ll make.

Still, that choice is your responsibility; for the rest, Switzerland has as much to offer as anywhere. Years later, you might just find yourself in a tunnel under an airport, smiling reassuringly at a flummoxed passenger, and chuckling to a sensibility you came to know and be fond of, if not quite understand.

In Conversation: Brenton Spiteri, Tenor

We were lucky enough to catch the busy Australian lyric tenor, Brenton Spiteri, between engagements recently. One of the most exciting young singers in Australia at the moment, Brenton caught us up on his current projects, and told us about his affinity for a cuppa.

You’ve got plenty of engagements coming up in Australia. Tell me about some of them?

Currently I’m in Sydney preparing for Sydney Chamber Opera’s next major work, Notes from Underground, after the novel by Dostoevsky. I am performing the lead role - an unnamed man struggling with feelings of anxiety and resentment for the world around him. The role has cleverly been split in two. The older version of the man looks back on his life, and the series of events that led him to withdraw from society, while I, as the younger version, live through these events for the first time. Anyone familiar with the novel will be able to tell you that this is a dark work, and that the man is not a sympathetic protagonist. He is deeply depressed, angry, paranoid and resentful. Luckily the beauty of the work is that it does not stress his self-pity in any way. He experiences some moments of dark humour and some very real, awkward social encounters. He is also a vulnerable and deeply yearning human. As with all people, these qualities co-exist with his uglier side. Despite his many flaws, his humanity is fully drawn and explored by the music and words. I hope to do it justice with my portrayal. The music is some of the most demanding that I have ever learned. Whilst this is scary, it is also good to know that the intensity of the character has been accurately captured in the musical score.

You’re also performing in the 2017 season in Opera Lyon. How did you become a part of the studio there?

I spent some of the money I won in the 2012 Herald Sun Aria final living and studying in Berlin for the first few months of 2015. Whilst there, I heard about the Opera Lyon studio. They were traveling through several European cities holding auditions and I decided to give it a go. I remember feeling very happy with how I sang on the day. However, I think that “always expect the unexpected” is a good rule of thumb when it comes to auditions in general, particularly in Europe or the US where you will generally be one of several hundred candidates. It can be difficult to get noticed, and it is therefore best to keep an open mind. When Opera Lyon hired me, it felt like the culmination of a lot of hard work and a sign of progress in what I was doing.

How did you go from being a student to a professional musician?

I would have to pinpoint my first audition trip to Europe as a significant experience for me. It was an amazing, overwhelming trip, and I came back more determined than ever to make something of myself as a singer. That year, I lived and breathed my art form. I confronted every question I had ever had about singing, and every vocal insecurity that I had ever tried to sweep under the carpet. I tried to really fix my technique and fully engage with the spirit of the music that I was singing without holding back. I also began to realise how necessary it was to value my own opinion. Young singers often have information and advice heaped upon them. This is great. I certainly wouldn’t have been able to develop without the input of many teachers, coaches and mentors, particularly those I was connected with through the Melba Opera Trust, where I was a scholar for 3 years. But ultimately, learning to sing is the process of finding your own voice: not just your literal instrument, but also the voice inside your head that simply says “you know how to do this.” At this time, I was also teaching in a private school and singing a lot in competitions, auditions, several choruses and solo projects. I didn’t realise it then, but getting through that year was a huge achievement.

It wasn’t until 2015 that I really became aware of the transition I had made. When I came offstage after the opening night of Sydney Chamber Opera’s Fly Away Peter, I was immensely relieved. This was such an important performance for me. It had been my largest and most challenging role to date. It was very difficult music and an intensely physical production. I had to play ten different characters and sing some notes I had never sung in public before. Everyone was a little stressed going into it, because it was such a large and difficult work, and absolutely everyone had invested a lot of emotion and artistic energy into it. The amount of talent and passion involved in creating that show was phenomenal. I came offstage and realised that not everyone could do what I had just done.

Obviously though, there will always be qualities that I am aspiring to in my technique and performance, regardless of how happy I am with my singing, or where I’m working. I don’t think I’ll ever stop being a student. I still have a great deal to learn and I suspect and hope that this will always be the case.

Why did you choose to go overseas?

For me, going overseas just always seemed an exciting prospect. I did a lot of performing as a child and this was true even back then. I came from a pretty small suburb in Melbourne’s west and taking my singing overseas and seeing parts of the world that would challenge me was always something I wanted to do.

Do you find it difficult negotiating commitments between Europe and Australia? In what ways? (both professional and personal)

I’ve had a very fortunate run so far in that sense. Most of my work has lined up very conveniently for me to balance my time between both places, and my life is currently full of people who support me in whatever choice I make. But yes, pros and cons lists are starting to feature a little more if I’m trying to decide between two things. Most of the time, there is a pretty clear answer when trying to decide what to do, and if not, there are plenty of people I can speak to in order to solve the problems. I’ve also traveled to different cities in Australia to perform, and of course, there are some generally difficult questions when it comes to spending so much time away from home. Is a place still home if you’re only there for a month every now and then? Don’t you miss all the important people in your life? Don’t you want to settle down and really commit to your indoor soccer team one day? The answer to all of these questions is yes, of course; but on balance, there are so many amazing things about singing as a career and I couldn’t be happier or feel more fortunate in what I’m doing at the moment.

Do you believe it’s essential for up and coming opera singers to go overseas for further study?

Opera has its roots in European history and culture. I definitely gained a lot of knowledge about opera from going overseas, not just from my private studies and watching performances, but simply from walking the streets, eating the food, studying the art and architecture and generally feeling the sensations of taking part in another way of life. I actually have never studied overseas at an institutional level, but I’ve done a lot of independent studies with mentors and coaches from all over, and I’ve studied German and French in Germany and France quite intensively as well as traveling through Italy. This is going to sound like an odd observation, but I’ve been struck time and again by the fact that these languages aren’t just a weird combination of sounds that we can condense into phonetic symbols and rules – they’re actually living, coherent words that people use every day to communicate. It can be easy to subscribe to the ‘rules’ of diction and forget that every time we speak, we spontaneously choose the words that we use depending on so many factors such as how we’re feeling, who we’re talking to, where we are, what sort of background we’re from. This then informs how we pronounce them and the inflection we use. It should seem no different to the audience when we’re on stage. Observing different languages in action is a great, active reminder of that fact. This isn’t to say that studying pronunciation and diction is a waste of time. I’d actually argue the opposite- that we should spend more time studying, even our very own language, and even if we travel overseas to study.

What are your favourite roles to perform/favourite music to perform?

I absolutely adored singing Tamino earlier this year with the State Opera of South Australia. I’d had the prospect of singing this role dangled in front of me a number of times previously and it had never worked out for one reason or another. To finally get to sing it, and for such an important Australian company, was the best feeling, especially as it was the exact right time for me, vocally, to be cast in the role. I was as thoroughly prepared as it was possible to be, but I was still nervous and awestruck for the first part of the rehearsal period, being in a new city and having this opportunity at long last.

You also perform new music. Why is this important to you?

The new works that I’ve been associated with have been very challenging and stimulating to be a part of. I certainly love performing music by dead guys, but there is a certain magic in the air when you sing the work of a composer who is in the room. It’s also a great chance to grow the voice without the pressure that comes when thousands of singers before you have sung the same role. New music is important, because without it, old music would not exist. It’s important to create works that speak to our time - what is happening in the world right now, the stories that we want to see on stage, the politics that we want the theatre to unpack and explore. It’s not for me, nor for anyone, to judge what people should and shouldn’t expect when they go to the theatre, but what I would like to do is take part in works that resonate with people and pave the way for discussion, and of course, in which the singing is exceptional, powerful and moving.

What advice would you give to aspiring opera singers?

You never know what’s going to happen six months from now. Get used to that, and start to work with it. You can make so much progress in a short period of time, you can achieve things you didn’t think were possible, and your fortunes can change in the blink of an eye. Don’t work against the clock, work with it, and appreciate what you’ve got instead of focusing on what’s to come. Nothing is fixed. This is both scary and comforting.

What’s coming up for the rest of 2016?

The rest of the year will be busy and exciting. After wrapping up Notes I’ll be briefly back in Melbourne to perform a program of Ravel and Sondheim works at the Melbourne Recital Centre on August 25th with outstanding pianist Eidit Golder and the Melbourne Art Song Collective. Then I’ll sing Rossini’s Stabat Mater for the first time in Napier New Zealand. At the end of the year, I will join the touring casts of Victorian Opera’s The Pied Piper and Cendrillon, before re-joining my colleagues in the Opéra Lyon Young Artist Program next year.

When you’re not busy with music, how do you spend your downtime?

My downtime activities are pretty boring, to be honest with you. For someone like me, singing takes a lot of energy, so in my downtime I like to try and restore that energy with a combo of walking, watching TV, cooking or hanging out with my dogs. Also my friends and family. I should probably put them before my dogs I guess.

QUICK 5:

Haydn or Hindson?

Having just perfomed in Pinchgut Opera’s Armida, I’d have to say Haydn.

Beyoncé or Bernstein?

Both. How could I choose between Halo and West Side Story?

Cocktail or cuppa?

I’m unreasonably passionate about hot beverages, particularly tea, so I’ll say cuppa.

Opera or orchestra?

Opera for me, because I need to keep working or the government will start taking my stuff.

A timely one: Pokemon Yellow or Pokemon GO?

I barely understand what Pokemon GO is and I have no idea what Pokemon Yellow is, so I’m probably not qualified to answer.

From The Organ Loft: Preparing for an Organ Recital by Edwin Kwong

As I sit here in the Pravda Café in Wellington, New Zealand, I’m admiring the fantastic Soviet themed décor around me, whilst simultaneously confused by the music of Diana Krall and Eva Cassidy playing in the background – it doesn’t seem like music the Politburo would have approved of... But more importantly, I’m also thinking about what extra preparation I need to do for my upcoming concert in the beautiful Cathedral of St Paul, and I’ve realised that an organist’s concert preparation is unique amongst musicians. Hence, I’d like to share with you the process of how I, like many organists around the world, make an organ recital happen.

All musicians have similar things we are mindful of as we prepare for concerts: whether we’ve studied the score carefully enough, what particular markings we need to make to remind us to take extra care around certain tricky passages, our body postures, and so on and so forth. However, due to the fact that pipe organs can differ from each other drastically, and they are inherently heavily influenced by the acoustics of the building they are located in, organists have a few additional things that we must be attentive to.

An integral part of the preparation of an organ concert involves the organist carefully selecting the stops they will use for each piece of music. However, there are always a few complications along the way. For starters, some composers do not write down what particular stops they require, and so the organist is left to using their own good taste and scholarship to work out which are the appropriate stops to use. However, no two organ stops are exactly the same, even if they have the same name, or were built by the same organ builder! Moreover, as I alluded to before, the building it is located in is an incredibly significant factor – to the point where some organists call the acoustics of the building “the most important organ stop”.

In my current situation, the Cathedral of St Paul here in Wellington possesses one of the most incredible acoustics in New Zealand, and possibly even the Southern Hemisphere. In this cavernous space, there is a 7 second acoustic, and subsequently, I must make my articulation more detached so that the music can be heard clearly. Whilst other musicians may work out the articulations they wish to use for each piece in advance, an organist can only have a general idea of it and must alter it to match each organ and each building.

Here in Wellington, I will be playing music by Richard Madden (New Zealand), César Franck and Pierre Cochereau (France), and Giuseppe Verdi (Italy). In selecting my programme before I came here, I had to research the specifications of the instrument and listen to recordings to become more familiar with it, so that I can choose the appropriate repertoire. Indeed, it is perhaps unsurprising that I have chosen two French works – particularly the Cochereau, as his renowned improvisations at Notre Dame de Paris depended as much on the famous organ there as its incredible acoustics, which I hope to recreate here in windy Wellington.

Playing the organ brings a myriad of challenges, but for the same reason it is also one of the most rewarding instruments to play. Once an organist has reached a certain standard, it is essentially a passport for international travel – as I’ve been finding out recently! Organists are also often fluent in multiple languages (though mostly limited to organ-related jargon and technical terms!), as we need to read composers’ instructions in various languages, as well as, for example, deciphering how a fagott stop is different to a flageolet stop!

Overall, preparing for an organ concert is a real labour of love, involving hours of practice (most often in the wee small hours of the night) and preparation, occasional foreign language translation, rapid adaptation to a foreign instrument, and sometimes even a bit of organ maintenance! It is always a challenge, but it is also always one that I welcome and very much enjoy.

Reviewing Reviews by Vanessa Nimmo

We all know what to do with a fantastic, 5-star, out-of- this-world review. But what about the middle ground? Or even the dark pits of someone who really, really didn’t agree with what you were doing?

Notice the word ‘agree’ in that last sentence? Any review, whether good, bad or indifferent, is someone’s opinion. That opinion is influenced by what you did on the night, but it is also influenced by what the reviewer saw yesterday, last week and last year; how they felt on the day; if the venue was uncomfortable; and so on. Humans have cognitive biases and art is subjective. Nobody’s opinion, whether they think you are a rising star or a plummeting comet, is the final word on what you do. (Just in case you are wondering, you are the final word on what you do.)

So let’s never read reviews again, right?

Well, not necessarily. The thing is that while a review is an opinion, it can also be immensely valuable for you. At school and University you have the opinions of your teachers to help guide your development. Development doesn’t stop once you leave Uni (at least you hope it doesn’t). Just as with teachers and mentors, an informed reviewer can be a great resource for you. Imagine how many shows and performers they have seen over their career – far more than you will ever have time to see as you are busy practising and performing. Therefore, you have an opportunity to use their opinion to help you grow.

As with any feedback, when you are considering a review as potential advice, take into account the background and interests of the reviewer. Reviewers often have a genre they are accustomed to discussing and may not know how to talk about your work if it falls outside of their regular programming! Also consider the aims of your work. And if you take a good long look at the review, then a good long look at your work, and decide that you completely disagree with the reviewer’s opinion, that is ok. But it is also entirely ok to take on board fair criticism as you continue to grow and develop both your work and yourself.

(And this may seem obvious but I’ll say it anyways: if you are working with kids, read the review in full yourself before you let them read it. Also consider banning the reading of reviews until the run of the show is completed – for any age!)

Traditionally, reviews communicate what your show is about to people who might consider seeing it. Indeed, some people won’t see a show they haven’t read about, so eschewing all review platforms comes with some potential for financial peril, especially for self-produced artists. But this role of the reviewer also gives them a much greater understanding than you can ever have of the audience experience of your show. This can help you to improve the experience of your audience, as well as to identify and market to potential new audiences.

So in my opinion, when you get your next review, you should think about how you can make use of this potential advice from a critical friend. Or don’t. It’s entirely up to you.

In Conversation: Cameron Menzies, Director

You are about to embark on directing Mozart’s Cosi Fan Tutte in London and you have several large-scale Mozart productions on your resume already. What are you looking forward to in this coming process?

Yes, this is my fourth production in London over the last three years. Last year I directed Le Nozze di Figaro and Lucia di Lammermoor, and in 2014 Don Giovanni. I will also direct a new production of Die Zauberflote for a tour of China at the end of the year, so I have quite a relationship with Mozart. Embarking on a new production of Cosi Fan Tutte is very exciting as I have never directed it before. I very much enjoy working on these Mozart/Da Ponte masterpieces as they are so full of great text and music to build and shape into a performance. We have an exciting cast including Australian Soprano Anita Watson as our Fiordiligi. I am very much looking forward to finding the balance between humour and poignancy in this work. I see some moments in the opera as very three-dimensional, which are then, through the genius of Mozart and Da Ponte, transformed into moments of I think pure clowning. I find the process of moving between these seemingly opposing genres a wonderful treat to create. Cosi comes with its own challenges as does any piece, but finding this edge will be an exciting part of putting this production together.

What are the major steps you undertake before heading into the rehearsal room for the first time? Do you have a general method, or does it change depending on the production?

I think there are two parts to this: the process before rehearsal and then the process during rehearsal. First of all, my own preparation needs to be undertaken. A lot of personal learning and planning needs to be done before the first day of rehearsal - I need to intimately learn the work that is being produced. I tend to learn the opera that I am directing from memory; this is just something that I personally do so that I know I am across all aspects of the piece. Then, a concept and design process happens with the creative team, which usually consists of the director, set/costume designer and lighting designer. A design or concept is created by this team and is then presented to the producing company for approval, and then the executive producer, production manager and stage management team all set about creating the production. All of these months of work take place before the first day of rehearsal can begin. My method of preparation is pretty much the same for any piece I direct. I like to immerse myself in the piece and then sit and learn it. I also tend to do a lot of historical research on relevant themes surrounding the work. Once rehearsals have started, my process is always slightly different depending on the work I am directing and the artists I have on the floor. I generally work through from start to finish in very broad strokes to get a feel for the shape of the piece. I find this gives the cast and the music team an idea of where we are heading. I then usually spend the rest of the time refining the production, making sure the pace is right and the storytelling is linked to the text and the music. It is a very detailed process that I slightly modify and respond to differently for each production.

Mozart continues to be a favourite on stages globally - what is it about his music that gives these operas staying power?

You’re right, these works by Mozart do have such staying power, and I think it has to do with the beautiful marriage of the text and the music. For me, these pieces have thrived on the stages of opera all over the world because the music is so very accessible and the story lines are so very inviting. We are cleverly thrust into action from the very start of most of these works; for instance in Figaro, we find an excited couple at the start of a very important day: he is measuring a room with absolute glee and Susanna is fixing a hat for her to wear to her wedding... All very exciting to be thrust into that world. Immediately the music tells us where we are and what is happening in the world, and this focuses us from the start and takes us on the journey with a wonderful pace. Similarly in something like The Magic Flute, we are again thrust into a storm with a giant serpent attacking a man who is being defeated… No time for long introductions, just straight into exciting action. I feel like the pace of the drama and the comedy linked with the music is a big reason why these pieces continue to resonate so well with audiences.

What are the challenges in reworking operas that many audience members know intimately?

This is interesting. To rework or not to rework… I’m not sure that everything needs to be reworked. I feel that pieces definitely need to be freshly found and tailored to the cast that are performing these roles, and that the world of the production needs to be cleanly and clearly defined (be it in the original period, or set on the planet Mars as an example), but I'm not sure about the reworking of a piece. There are challenges associated with both sides of this argument; as opera audiences are diversifying, it is a challenge to pitch a production that will satisfy a long-time audience and a newcomers audience. I think my job is to remain true to the composer and the libretto, and find what I believe they were trying to say and bring it to life through my imagination and innovation. Now, that doesn’t mean all in strict period or all contemporary settings , but I do feel like some operas are reworked to breaking point. Directors of opera repertoire with works such as Cosi need to operate as interpretive artists pulling the piece up off the page. Working on a new opera commission is a different thing altogether, but with repertoire I feel that no matter where you have set something it needs to be followed through and executed very cleverly and cleanly from the text and music.

You have a background as both an actor and a musician, meaning an understanding of many genres. What strikes you about opera, and keeps you coming back?

Yes, I trained firstly as an actor and then as a musician through the Victorian College of the Arts. This does give me a unique understanding of genres and has allowed me to work across opera, music theatre, theatre, film, and even into documentary film-making. However, opera keeps calling me back because for me it is the most heightened form of storytelling that I have access to. I very much enjoy working with the musical and emotional blueprint that a composer delivers to a story, and I love playing with the sense of time in opera, i.e. are we in real time or poetic time? The stories as well in opera need to be condensed in a way that they become so juicy that it is a joy to create them. There is also the collaborative nature in opera between so many artists that I find very appealing. Working with the insights from the conductor, music staff, designers, singers, orchestral players and artisans on a piece and being able to pull all these ideas into the service of one production is a thrilling thing. It takes a small city to create an opera on any level, and I enjoy working with a team very much in this way.

Tell me about your first experience with opera.

My first operatic experience was probably through my father playing LP’s on the record player at home. However, my first live operatic experience was at about age 12, when my father took me to see a production of Australian Opera’s Lucia di Lammermoor at the Sydney Opera house - this was part of a subscription that he bought for us. That year we also saw Il Trovatore and The Magic Flute. I loved these productions very much, they were wonderful and a world I have never seen. I probably always knew I was headed into the arts (apart from a few years where I was going to be a vet), but I never thought opera would be a part of my career. I am so happy that I have been able to bring opera into my life, and to make it my career both here in Australia and overseas is such a blessing.

Does practical knowledge in acting and singing help shape your understanding of the artists you direct? Are you better equipped to understand operatic characters?

The very short answer to this question is undoubtedly… Yes! I was trained by Hayes Gordon, a highly skilled actor, teacher and mentor, over four years at the Ensemble Theatre in Sydney. Hayes trained directly with, and was a great colleague to, acting giants such as Lee Strasberg and Sandford Meisner. My acting training allows me to break down acting into its smallest parts to help singers meld their acting into the music. My acting training also provided me with a way of diagnostically looking at someone’s work, and finding ways of tailoring it towards stronger choices to bring it into line with the production we are creating. Similarly, my musical knowledge and ability to read and analyse a score puts me in a strong position to not only justify and communicate my decisions dramatically but musically as well. My knowledge and experience as a performer gives me a rare insight into what a performer is going through, and helps me to guide them through rehearsals. I think it also gives me a clear insight into operatic characters, helping me to find their motivations and flaws.

How can young people go about being involved in the production side of opera? What skills are essential to a young director?

There are many outlets for young people wanting to be involved in production. I think that it is wise to approach youth theatre companies or amateur and pro/am companies that will take on young people to give them a taste and experience for what it is like. There are a lot of youth programs attached to opera companies now as well - it would serve people looking into this type of experience to write to companies and very politely put yourself forward to observe or even second or intern. Sometimes companies reserve these positions for people studying at a tertiary full-time level, but it can't hurt to ask. I think it never hurts to politely express an interest in something and ask to see what might be available or on offer; they can only say no, and they know you for next time. But tread humbly in these instances.

Young directors of opera need a huge understanding of a lot of things: languages, music, acting, operatic hierarchy, protocol and etiquette in the rehearsal room, what different rehearsals are designed for, how to work with a chorus as opposed to working with principal artists, history and varied periods both musically and dramatically, and theatre style to name a few. I also as a young director set out to find out about what each part of a company does and how they work and what vocabulary they use. For example, wardrobe use very specific language, as does the production team and music staff. I’m definitely not saying I can do each and every one of these highly skilled jobs, but I tried to learn their language so I was able to communicate with them quickly and clearly, and have an understanding and a respect for each element of an opera production and company.

As with all roles in the arts, productions come with good and bad reviews. How do you deal with feedback, whether positive or negative?

I have a very healthy relationship with feedback and press. I believe everyone is entitled to an opinion. It doesn’t sway me much either way to be honest. It's nice if you get a good review, but if you start to believe the press or reviews I think you’re in trouble.

REHEARSALmagazine is site for developing artists. What advice would you have loved to receive during your first directorial position?

Hmmm this is a tricky one... I'm reminded of an article that I read in a German magazine when I was working at the Deutsche Oper in Berlin in 2008, that talked about the craziness of the ‘Regietheatre’ in Germany over the last two or so decades. Loosely quoted it said: “These young directors have to remember that the real genius in the room is actually Wagner, Puccini, Mozart, Strauss or Verdi…”

From the Organ Loft: An Interview with Rex Roxburgh by Edwin Kwong

This month’s column deviates from the norm a little, in that it is in the form of a brief interview with Rex Roxburgh, the GAP Organ Scholar at St Paul’s Cathedral Melbourne, and Gap Student at Trinity Grammar School, Kew. I first met Rex in the incredible Eton Choral Courses in July 2013, where many lifelong friendships were formed for me, and it just so happened that he decided to come halfway round the world to Melbourne for his gap year! He has been in Melbourne since September last year, and was a regular performer this past semester in the Melbourne University Series of Organ Concerts (MUSOC). Rex has just completed his gap year, and will take up an organ scholarship at St Peter’s College, Oxford later this year, where he will read for a degree in music.

Could you describe how your musical journey first began?

One of my earliest musical memories with my maternal grandfather was sitting at the baby grand Steinway in his sitting room as he was teaching me to play chromatic scales. My grandfather was a fantastic pianist and a close friend of Claudio Arrau. As a result, my mother loves music and we almost always have classical music on, whether it's in the car or around the house. It's just something I've grown up with.

What made the organ your instrument of choice?

I actually started the violin and then the piano long before the organ. However, I felt I was drawn to the organ during my time as a chorister at Winchester Cathedral due to all of the amazing choral and organ music present there. At first, I didn't have time to fit it into my school timetable with chorister commitments, two instruments and sport, but I practised at home on the weekends between my occasional lessons. At Stowe School, the organ really became my first instrument and it was great to have free reign on the four manual Rushworth and Dreaper organ!

What would you say is your most memorable musical experience thus far?

Without a shadow of a doubt, my fondest musical memory was on a tour of the East Coast of the US with the Winchester Cathedral Choir. We sang Sir William Walton's Coronation Te Deum and Sir James MacMillan's Laudi Alla Vergine Maria (two of my favourite choral works). The Walton especially stands out as the Trompettes en Chamade used in the organ accompaniment are spine-tinglingly good, and those fanfares are just breathtaking.

What were your duties in your role as the GAP Organ Scholar/Gap Student at St Paul's Cathedral and Trinity Grammar School?

I worked four days a week at Trinity Grammar School, where I'd accompany rehearsals, play for chapel services, do administration and generally be an extra pair of hands in the department trying to be as useful as possible. At St Paul's, I sang or played for five or six services a week. I accompanied the choir regularly and sang bass whenever I wasn't on the organ bench.

How does Australia compare with England in terms of the culture of the arts and fine music?

I can't properly compare the two as I lived in remote rural Gloucestershire and obviously the arts and culture there is slightly different to a city like Melbourne! Despite the vast distance between Australia and Europe/America, I'd say Australia copes well and has a pretty vibrant culture of arts and music. Obviously it could be bigger, more popular and widespread but where isn't that the case? I thoroughly enjoyed my brief stint too in the second fiddles with the Heidelberg Symphony Orchestra and I've come across lots of amateur ensembles and groups. I'm actually going to see Prokofiev's The Love of Three Oranges at the Sydney Opera House tonight so I'll report back on the opera scene in Australia next time!

What is the one thing you are looking forward to the most about studying in Oxford?

There are so many things that I'm looking forward to at Oxford. However, I can’t wait to study music in great detail and have rigorous intellectual debates with people and tutors who feel the same way about music as I do. Tapping into the libraries and resources that I'll have at my fingertips will be tremendously exciting too.

Finally, what's your plan for the future?

Who knows?! As far as I'm aware, I don't think my career will be in music. I'm certainly going to keep it up as a passion and serious part of my life but I don't think it'll be my career. To be honest, I haven't given it a great deal of thought but I've still got three years to mull this one over!

What I Learnt: La Mer Winter Intensive by Jess Crowe

It was eleven degrees in my bedroom when my alarm went off at 5.30 Saturday morning.

Eleven.

Degrees.

This was inconsiderate, bordering on rude. It snowed the day before in Ballarat though, so I suppose it wasn’t surprising. In what universe does someone willingly get out of warm comfy bed at 5.30 on a Saturday morning into eleven-degree air?

This one, apparently. And all because of Matthew Lorenzon’s comments about brioche.

Full disclosure: I went to the Music Analysis Summer School when it first ran in late 2015, so I knew what to expect from anything Matthew had a hand in organising: that is, extreme awesomeness. But I had no idea who Dr Roy Howat was. Probably because when it comes to my major, musicology, I’m generally terrible.

BOY DID I LEARN

After braving black ice on the road driving to the train station, nearly slipping over twice walking to the platform, snoozing to Deadmau5 on the 6.12 train (look it works for me okay?), finally inhaling whatever largest warmest caffeine-based beverage I could find at 7.45, and awkwardly killing time for an hour, I got to Medley Hall and received a nametag – always a plus for someone like me who forgets names as soon as they’re told to her.

(there are probably some of you I’ve done my entire undergrad with whose names I don’t remember – it’s not you, it’s me, and more than anything it’s just sad, honestly)

There was more coffee. A good start.

And almonds. Also good.

A little after 9am, we got started. The focus of the day was Debussy, particularly a proportional analysis of La Mer. I love Debussy – French Impressionism is the bomb, so I was pretty pumped. Tired, but pumped. If I’d done any of the pre-reading (HA!) perhaps I would have seen it coming.

~*~*~*~ FIBONACCI NUMBERS ~*~*~*~

~*~*~*~ FIBONACCI NUMBERS EVERYWHERE ~*~*~*~

If you harbour a secret (or otherwise) passion for numbers, go read Dr Howat’s book Debussy in Proportion. Everything we spoke about is in there. It will blow your mind.

As a non-practising pianist (I mean that so literally, I don’t play anymore because I can’t play anymore because I don’t practice), I still learnt more about playing Debussy, and even Ravel, in a couple of offhand comments from Roy than I possibly ever have. No offence to my fabulous previous piano teachers of course, but to be fair, he did write the book on it (The Art of French piano music). If you are an actual pianist, who actually physically touches a piano regularly, and who plays any French piano music, read this book. I can’t speak for our readers from other institutions, but it’s in the Melbourne University library catalogue. You have no excuse.

There were many more fantastic moments throughout the day – donuts, more coffee, delicious sea-themed chocolate chip biscuits, proximity to Lygon St for lunch…and yes more music stuff. Look, I get that I’m someone who is genuinely into analysis, and it’s not necessarily a topic for everyone. But even if you concentrate on performing, what we discussed had huge ramifications for the understanding, and therefore playing, of this kind of music – that’s what analysis does. There is something here for every type of musician. I cannot recommend this project enough; if you are even slightly interested in being a well-rounded muso, you just have to go to one of these. Who knows what they’ll cover next? Go like their Facebook page. Attend one of the sessions. Find out. There will probably be one later this year. We’ll probably plug it to remind you. Go to it. GO. DO IT. YOU WON’T REGRET IT.

Join us. There are pastries.

In Conversation: Kieran Welch

You're a classically trained violist who has been DJing from a young age. What's the appeal for you personally in working with different musical genres?

Growing up, I was always interested in both classical music, and more "popular" or contemporary kinds of music like electronica and indie rock. But in searching for a way to combine these two musical areas of my life, it seemed like they were surprisingly incompatible. Nearly every combination I could find of the two worlds was more for novelty's sake—composers "uplifting" techno or whatever into a classical composition, but in a way that was patronising and not really understanding the other world at all, or a DJ sampling a classical composition, but in a really unimaginative and obvious way.

However, during my Bachelor of Music, I discovered a bunch of musicians and composers doing just this, but in a really effective and non-hierarchical way—people like Nico Muhly, Missy Mazzoli, Björk, Olafur Arnalds and Max Richter, or closer to home, composers like Robert Davidson and the Argo crew, Connor D'Netto and Ben Heim. One of the most important was here in Brisbane, when Chris Perren asked me to become a part of a new band he was forming called Nonsemble. Coming from playing in successful math rock band Mr Maps, and organising rock gigs in Brisbane for years, Chris was really interested in combining this background with more classical aspects, particularly the notation and instruments. We've released two albums and an EP, performed everywhere from big music festivals and clubs to galleries such as Tasmania's MONA and more classical concert halls, and of course we will be presenting Chris' third major work for the band at Dots+Loops Recomposed.

Since then I've been working hard on sharing this "post-genre" approach to music with as many people as possible. Importantly, the combination of genres isn't just about the music itself, but how it's presented and marketed. As an example, at Dots+Loops we use set times more like a rock gig, with roughly half-hour sets, and as much break in between. We also make sure to use spaces that allow for a relaxed, social atmosphere, letting people grab a drink, chat, and digest the music in between and after the live performances.

I think there's so much to be gained for all involved by being aware of and combining aspects of different genres in new and interesting ways, and for me, it's one of the most obvious ways for music drawing from the classical tradition to stay relevant, innovative and connected to today's society.

Some people think traditional classical music has a bit of an attitude problem when it comes to other genres. What would you say to this? Do you agree?

To some extent I would agree. Classical music has an incredibly rich and long history to draw from, and centuries of phenomenal works of art from people who really considered what they were doing, or really pushed the envelope. But in our current postmodern world, filled with so many different musical traditions and genres, I think this lineage can cause some classical musicians to look down upon or trivialise music from other, newer genres. I think this is to everyone's detriment. Just because a genre is newer, has a different approach, or different musical goals to music from the classical tradition, it isn't less artistically "worthy". I think there is so much to be gained by the classical music world in properly understanding and engaging with other worlds of music, and vice-versa.

You've described Dots+Loops as finding the perfect middle ground between a traditional classical concert and a club gig. What is it that lead you to start this genre-bending series?

Finally finding all this great post-genre music I mentioned previously, and realising that there was no-one really sharing it in a big way here in Brisbane. Finding the right style of venue really helped too – we started off in a fantastic warehouse space in a more industrial area of Brisbane, which was a perfect fit for the show. The first show was a real concept concert based around the idea "from the concert hall to the dancefloor". We started in a more classical idiom with a Philip Glass string quartet, then in-between with the premiere of Nonsemble's "Go Seigen vs. Fujisawa Kuranosuke", before finishing with a DJ set of music conceptually following the rest of the concert, but with more of a focus on electronica, techno and IDM. It went so well, and the feedback from audiences and performers was so positive, that this has informed a lot of our shows since. It seems like a nice "full circle", so to speak, that our seventh show two years later will now be seeing the premiere of a new major Nonsemble work.

I'd imagine putting on concerts like this takes a great deal of support, in many areas. Do you receive any funding or grants? What was the process of achieving that like?

It takes a lot of support, but I'm very lucky to have an amazing network of similarly minded people to help out, particularly Nonsemble's Chris Perren, Flora Wong, Sam Andrews, and other friends and mentors such as Brisbane musicians Patricia Pollett, Joe Fallon, Ben Ellerby, and the Argo crew: Connor D'Netto and Ben Heim.

I'm really proud that up to this seventh show, we covered all costs solely using ticket sales, helped out with the support of our local community regarding things like borrowing instruments, and some amazing musicians generously giving us their time and effort. However, the one thing we couldn't do was pay the musicians as much as they deserved for the commitment, enthusiasm and skill they gave us. Hence we were lucky enough to secure a Brisbane City Council Creative Sparks grant for this coming show, and while it still won't allow for a full professional wage, it gives us the means to give everyone involved a financial thanks for their involvement (and gives me security to know I won't be thousands of dollars in debt if the concert did go belly-up!). Increasing this amount to give back to the musicians and composers is one of my primary goals for future concerts, but it's not easy.

Have you found a different kind of audience attends Dots+Loops compared to other more traditional concerts?

Most definitely. Whereas traditional classical concerts see their demographic spike at somewhere between 50-65 years old (at least according to the latest ABS statistics), a huge amount of our audience are young people between 18-35 years old. We still have a number of older people too though; we're all about inclusivity. We also tend to get a larger spread of social groups too – people who identify with a number of different musical worlds.

One of the best things I can hear after our shows is a concert-goer, who may not have been to a more classical concert before, expressing how much they took away from the concert. I am really glad to say this has happened a number of times. But the best thing about our concerts is seeing the same people returning to each new concert, forming a new community based around the shows and music we're presenting.

On a related note, but this time regarding the performers, many of our artists come from the classical music world, and have never played the style of music or in the kind of venue we use before. However, pretty much all of them end up having a fantastic experience, and find they can connect with the audience and music in a completely different, and often more fun way.

This will be your seventh show so far. Is there anything different about this concert than the previous in the series? What are you looking forward to most about it?

It's our biggest so far, and in a slightly different style of venue too at Queensland's Gallery of Modern Art, as the warehouse-style venues we normally use couldn't fit the Vivaldi Recomposed orchestra. However, it's a spectacular new space for the show, and I can't wait to see how the audience and musicians find the experience. More than anything though, I'm so excited to finally be able to perform one of my favourite pieces of music ever, Max Richter's "Vivaldi Recomposed", with such an amazing group of musicians, and to present one of my new favourite pieces of music to the world for the first time, Chris Perren's "Fibreglass Forestry". That might sound like a stock response, but I'm honestly so stoked to be playing both of these pieces!

What can an audience expect from this concert that they won't be able to get anywhere else?

A different way of enjoying different kinds of music. Hopefully, regardless of their musical backgrounds, everyone who comes will find certain aspects of the show familiar, but others quite different to what they're used to, and that's the most exciting part. I think another important aspect is the social one. Though the music is the focus of the show, especially for me, it's never the sole reason people come to a concert, and by giving people time and space to mingle and chat, we also find that they can discuss and appreciate the often quite new and unfamiliar music we present much better. Finally, we work hard to ensure everyone—from the audience, to the performers, to the composers—feel like an equally important aspect of the music-making and enjoying process, and I hope this helps everyone feel more involved and connected to the music.

And finally, one much less professional question: what's the best (worst) viola joke anyone's ever told you?

I think many of my friends live in fear of a lengthy, passionate rebuttal to any viola jokes directed at my instrument; as such I thankfully haven't heard too many recently! Perhaps a favourite might be "Why are viola jokes so short? So violinists can understand them".

Demystifying Music Technology: Diving In by Christopher Steller

I've been thinking about a piece involving acoustic instruments (which is not my regular direction), so in this article I'll focus on composing and realising a composition for myself (if that's okay with you).

I was inspired by a conversation with Stefan from Plexus, so I've decided to use piano, violin and clarinet as my virtual ensemble. The challenge will be to choose and blend the virtual instruments into a realistic performance of the composition, so that listeners will hear my intent without having to do too much explaining.

My working system is a MacBook Pro with a second screen, which allows me to have the arrange window and piano roll on the big screen, and the score on the MB screen. A nice layout for this type of work. My mini keyboard (KORG Microkey 37) and a mix controller (nanokontrol2) for adjusting individual volumes, and providing transport controls (start/stop/record), plus a basic audio interface and headphones, complete the setup.

When I begin any of my compositions, I like to have the basic instruments accurate from the outset, so that I can concentrate on the music - if something doesn't work in the mix, I can drop it and try an alternative. I’ve written the basic piano figure and allowed it to loop while I choose the right piano. I'm using Logic Pro on this occasion, and the piano selections are very good, but I prefer the UVI Plugsound Pro classical grand - it has a roundness and realism that sits well in a mix.

The violin from Plugsound Pro works very well in all playing styles, but their clarinet only works well in legato playing - the attack is too slow for quick arpeggios and trills. After investigating some more alternatives for the part, I decided on the Logic ’clarinet+' for the job - it has a better attack.

As a side note here, you will find that the more expansive orchestral sample libraries (e.g. Garritan or Miroslav Vitous) have a more elegant solution for the problem I am having. The libraries are usually very large, like 20-30 gigabytes of samples, because they are set up as layers for different playing styles, which are accessed via standard MIDI controllers. When you are emulating a violin part you can switch between a staccato, legato or pizzicato layer by adjusting the modulation wheel on your keyboard. When I want to switch to a pizzicato style I will need to set up a separate plugin preset - if you prefer the above alternative, be prepared for the cost involved.

With a modest sample library to choose from, I'll have to settle for the cost-effective way.

Now, back to the piece. I want to begin the piece with a constant, and I'm working in 6/4, so I'll rely on the piano to provide a repeating pattern that creates a rhythm and allows me to weave harmonies and fills with my other instruments. My violin and clarinet will alternate roles during the piece, providing melodies and rhythmic alternatives to the piano part.

As I said earlier, the violin can successfully alternate between staccato and legato parts, but I'm still having an issue with fast clarinet lines so I will need to adjust the attack of the sound in real-time so that my clarinet player can keep up.

In my next session, I'll begin building the parts and adding the alternate harmonies and fills. Stay tuned!

Where Music Meets Politics by Alice Tovey

You. Nerd. Stop composing that string trio and start composing for the new world.

Music is an inherently political act. Sorry if you think you’re some kind of a-political musical genius, creating pointillistic pieces in a vacuum, but that’s simply not the case. Whether you’re John Cage, raging against the machine with the sound of silence, or Bizet, unapologetically fetishising foreign cultures with sexy, sexy habaneras, you are but a product of your time, you magnificent cog in the machine you. Your musical and lyrical choices are a direct result of your surroundings, and will be frozen in time like a musical Neanderthal for future generations to tear apart with the ice pick of knowledge.

But, if all music is political, what happens when you create music with the intention of being political?

I and my cowriter, Melbourne composer and wearer of amazing hair, Ned Dixon, have had a lot of labels slapped on us in our short time on the musical comedy scene. Feminist, atheist, activist, bitch, naive, Queen, nihilist. Going into the game, we had no intention of being anything other than two musicians who enjoyed making people laugh. We’re both painfully aware of our early 20s, middle class, Caucasianness. That’s why we were so surprised with the strong response to our work. Our audience wanted us to say more. To be more political. To commentate on the global situation. To be a voice for the disenfranchised Australians who are licking the wounds left over from the Rudd/Gillard/Rudd/Abbott/Turnbull years.

No pressure.

A lot of questions spring to mind as to whether you’re smart enough or capable enough for the job. I’d be lying if I said my own insecurities about being this character didn’t make me deeply anxious. But, in the wake of it all, you kinda have to swallow your fear, shove your balls to the wall and go for it.

Dying is easy. Comedy is hard. Musical comedy is harder.

There is no easy way to go about composing a political manifesto that will engage and enthrall audiences. It’s not something that can happen overnight.

Anyway, here is a five-step guide to becoming a revolutionary comedy composer.

Know Who You Are

Be unapologetically yourself. Do you think Donald Trump sits there, worried that he’ll hurt someone’s feelings before he spouts his hateful rhetoric? No. He should, but you should not! Inevitably, you’re gonna feel the need to censor yourself at some point. Whether you’re afraid that people won’t like your opinion, or you’re afraid that you might offend someone (what if your Mum listens to your music? She raised you and now she’s hearing you belt songs about jacking it onstage. Sorry Mum*). As long as you feel like your writing is the best reflection of you, keep going.

Know Your Audience

We live in a generation of people screaming their opinions into the digital void for all to see. Know when to yell and who to yell at. Most likely, your audience is going to agree with what you’re saying. They’ve paid for a ticket/downloaded your album/followed you home from work because they agree with you. Getting angry at them for the problems that other people, who are not your audience, are inflicting on the world won’t solve anything. Yes, talk about the dum-dums ruining the world. Yell about them. But remember, your audience are not those dum-dums, so be kind to them.

Read More

My friend Rachel has the best test for assessing dudes who are trying to pick you up: ask them what they last read for pleasure. Not something that they had to read for school, I’m talkin’ about the last time they rugged up in their trackies and read a goddamn book. When you start writing political music, people will often sneer at you and say “pfft, what do you know?” Show them what you know. Read the paper, watch a documentary, scroll through twitter. Know what’s going on.

Talk to People Who Offend You

I’m not saying you should be grabbing beers with Nazi sympathisers (unless you’re into that. Who am I to judge?), I’m saying that listening to and understanding the opinions of those you disagree with will enrich your own understanding of the world. Once you realise that the opinions of those who lean differently to you are not evil and are backed up by their own system of logic, you can intelligently assess the good and bad parts of that political ideology. Sticking your fingers in your ears and yelling “la la la” while someone explains why they don’t believe in climate change won’t make them stop being a jerk. It just kind of makes you a jerk. Mashing two jerks together doesn’t create a good thing – just look at the Kardashians. Be the better person and let the jerk explain their wrong opinion to you. Then you can plan a careful strike.

Don’t Be a Wanker

Don’t take yourself too seriously. At the end of the day, if you’ve made people think and made people feel, you’ve done more than your job. Don’t think by writing one smart song about the Liberal government that you’re Russell Brand and you’re going to dismantle the class system (I wish he would just go back to telling jokes about his penis. That’s all I want. I digress).

At the end of the day, I’m a musician. I’m a social commentator. I’m not Jesus.

*Seriously, sorry Mum. One day, I’ll go to Law School and get a real job. I mean it.

In Conversation: Allison Wright

Ahead of her concert, kammervolk, we caught up with Melbourne-based composer and freelance musician Allison Wright to find out more about her process in setting up a program and organising a concert, and how she balances a passion for both classical and pop music. To buy tickets, click here.

Your upcoming concert, Kammervolk, features collaboration with poetry and artwork. What do you value about utilising several different modes of art in one performance?

Collaborative art is what excites me the most at the moment. At the core of it, it’s just this idea that every art form is a contribution to a greater whole or experience. As a performer, I’ve always preferred playing in large productions than in symphonies or recitals. I’ve been lucky enough to play in some spectacular productions for the ballet and the opera in Melbourne over the last few years, and that’s inspired me a lot!

There are several world and Australian premieres in Kammervolk - how have you gone about curating the selection of music in the program? What were you looking for in the compositions you have chosen?

The whole idea for this concert started when I was in peak binge-listening mode for yMusic’s 2011 album ‘Beautiful Mechanical’. yMusic are a New York based genre-bending chamber group who commission and record local composers’ works as well as touring with big contemporary acts such as Björk, Sufjan Stevens, the Dirty Projectors and Ben Folds. Each member of the group is a soloist in their own right, and I’ve always been a fan of their trumpet player C.J. Camierieri, having listened to him while growing up on Sufjan Steven’s earliest records. I was absolutely stoked when Judd Greenstein gave us permission to do the Australian premiere of his work ‘Clearing, Dawn, Dance’, because not only is it my favourite piece from the album, it represents a lot of what I’m interested in, in terms of genre-bending (also it has a really great trumpet part!). After getting the rights to perform Judd’s piece, the rest sort of fell into place. I am exceedingly lucky to have a hugely talented group of friends who are interested in this kind of music and leapt at the opportunity to be involved as soon as I mentioned it.

Obviously commissioning and performing new music is important to you - did this stem predominantly from your own composition practice, or from your experience in performing new works?

A little bit of both to be honest. There needs to be new music, and that new music needs to be played. I’m excited about forging real relationships with LIVING composers.

In your composition, ‘Two Chapters From The Same Story’, you bring together poet Jacob Sutherland and artist Minna Leunig. How did you find each artist, and what drew you to their art?

Jacob and I have been close since middle school, and we’ve been talking about collaborating since we became friends. His poetry comes very naturally to him and it’s so image-conjuring, which is perfect for collaborating with. There are some very beautiful nostalgia-producing lines in his part of Two Chapters, and I really tried to capture his sense of timing and space in the music to match. I’m also rather blessed to call Minna a close friend as well, and I’ve been in love with her art since we met a few years ago - actually through Jacob. There’s a real sense of innocence and positivity in her drawings, and I love that they feature a lot of the natural world.

The relationship between pop and classical music is a point of interest in this concert. Can you tell me about your relationship with each genre, and how they work together in this program?

My love for pop music comes from my passion for producing electronic music. Like a lot of other classically-trained musos out there, I used to believe that pop music was just a bunch of easily-generated computer nonsense with not much creative energy or skill. Then I tried making it myself. I was very wrong. Now I have an unbelievable level of respect for well-written and well-produced pop music. It’s a whole different art form. It takes a huge level of skill to create something simple that doesn’t sound naff. And mixing, don’t get me started on mixing. That’s a complex science. As a performer though, my interest in genre-bending repertoire comes from wanting to dissolve the high and low art divide, and wanting to play music where I didn’t have to count 200 bars’ rest. Judd’s piece - and most music written in a similar vein - is incredibly energetic and has very little rest time for all musos. It requires a huge amount of stamina, but it’s incredibly fun. I’m really excited (and very humbled) that I’ll have another opportunity to play music like Judd’s just in a few weeks at the prestigious Bang on a Can Summer Festival in Massachusetts, USA.

This project is in collaboration with The Boite, an association known for bringing to life a diverse selection of folk and world music. How does Kammervolk fit in to this selection?

I have been going to Boite concerts since I was very little. They host everything from Klezmer music to Flamenco with live dancers, all-male comedy choirs (anyone heard of the Spooky Men?), Celtic spoken-word nights, and people who can shred on a Bouzouki a la Van Halen. Recently they’ve been talking more and more about youth programs, so when I pitched the idea of a collaborative art chamber music concert to the Boite’s director Therese Virtue, she jumped right on board.

Tell me a little bit about the process of organising this concert: what challenges have you faced in putting together a program of this magnitude?

I started planning the logistics of this concert in January mostly with mind-maps and half sentences written on the back of napkins. Over time that progressed to diary entries and roughly 150 note entries on my Macbook about everything from potential musician lists, composers I might ask to be involved, types of cake to serve at interval, lighting rigs, stage presentation and what length of HDMI cables I’d have to buy. I think I initially underestimated just how much planning and preparation needs to go in to mounting a project like this, but I’ve been incredibly lucky with the level of support and advice I’ve been getting from my friends who work in the industry. Actually, I’d like to take this opportunity to thank the incredible team at the Boite, the guys at Rubiks Collective for their support (particularly Jacob Abela, who’s had to hear about all my dilemmas at all hours because we live together), Sascha Kelly at 3MBS for agreeing to plan promotion with me on her birthday, and Bayden Hine & Tilman Robinson for their industry advice and comedic relief from their absurd voicemails. See you on Saturday!

In Conversation: Matthew Lorenzon, MMASS by Hannah Spracklan-Holl

What is MMASS?

The Melbourne Music Analysis Summer School. We invite inspiring lecturers to dig into the music they love with an equally enthusiastic audience. We run a week-long summer school in November/December and smaller events throughout the year.

Why did you start the MMASS?

Because I had an all-too-common experience. I encountered some thorny analytical problems in my doctorate and remade the wheel trying to solve them. Thankfully, I was saved by teachers outside the university system. They were stacking shelves in libraries, selling CDs, or moving into completely different fields. I wanted to help share their expertise with others in a spirit of adventure and exploration.

What's exciting about music analysis?

That's like asking why brioche buns are delicious. Actually, brioche buns are a good example. Once you identify that brioche buns are delicious because of their high butter content, you can double down on other delicious comestibles like croissants. You might realise what's so great about foods you didn't even know you liked like kouign amann (hint: it's the butter). But analysis isn't always normative like this. You might decide you don't like butter at all, or that you prefer lard, or the way fats combine with sugars at high temperatures. But you need to know what butter is in the first place to make these comparisons or indeed to criticise the prevalence of butter-laden treats on our bakery shelves. Likewise, music analysis helps the listener make connections across vastly different repertoires and critically explore their musical universe.

For music practitioners things get even more interesting. Without a nodding acquaintance with the different branches of music analysis performers and composers can waste time grappling with problems for which there are already well-trodden lines of inquiry. Basic questions like "something changes in this bar but I don't know what it is. How should this affect my playing?" and "How did the composer make this piece?" can benefit from a knowledge of musical structure. And discovery doesn't always start with the ears. Music analysis reveals elements of a work that you may only notice after learning about them. This is particularly the case with large-scale form, which people don't usually map out in their minds. We provide a course in Schenkerian analysis—despite its old-fashioned reputation—specifically because of its epiphany-inducing properties.

What makes the MMASS unique?

Ultimately, music analysis is about developing and sharing insights and this is the focus of our unique content, format, participants, and atmosphere. We recognise that music lovers appreciate a diverse range of musics and our summer school reflects this, covering repertoire from throughout the common practice period and lectures by living composers. This year we are also pushing back before 1600 to include more early music.

Interest is found in detail, so it's not surprising that people get bored in introductory music theory courses that cover too many basic skills in too little time. Instead, our lectures ramp up pretty quickly from basic skills to high-level analyses. That way the class sees the end-point of analysis in problems that require real creativity to solve. If you get lost along the way, no big deal. We provide thorough reading lists for you to study afterwards and there are plenty of opportunities to talk with the lecturer and other participants over coffee and at receptions. There's no assessment, too. We expect our participants to be self-motivated and take away what they need.

Our participants are diverse a mix of students, lecturers, performers, composers, and music fans. This creates a positively bubbling atmosphere of shared inquiry. It's great to see lecturers from one course asking questions alongside students in another. We hold our courses in the salon of Benvenuta at Carlton's Medley Hall instead of a lecture theater to encourage the exchange of ideas. Generous catering further helps our participants feel relaxed and welcome.

Music analysis is a terribly male-dominated space and this year we are actively increasing the proportion of female lecturers in our summer school. I guess being small and agile we can just do that!

The focus of the MMASS winter intensive is La Mer. Why this piece? How do you decide what work(s) to study?

For our winter intensive we are flipping the summer school's format. The summer school courses are dedicated to specific techniques, which are then applied to numerous works. In the winter intensive we focus on one work through multiple lenses. Not all works respond to multiple lines of inquiry, but the early twentieth century is particularly rich with contenders as composers strained the boundaries of tonal harmony and experimented with form, meter, and rhythm. Debussy's La Mer is exemplary in this regard, with its radical experiments in form that were first proposed by Roy Howat in his 1983 book Debussy in Proportion. Howat's analysis of La Mer has evolved further over the years and we are so lucky to have Howat himself deliver our La Mer winter intensive. We also wanted to find a piece that would be of equal interest to performers and musicologists and Howat's research cuts perfectly across these different fields. As a renowned pianist and the editor of much of Debussy's piano music for Durand's Complete Debussy Edition, Howat will extend his theories on proportion in La Mer to the performance and editing of Debussy's music.

How would you convince someone who thinks music analysis is extremely boring to come along to the MMASS winter intensive?

I'd talk to them about music! Chances are they think analysis is boring compared to their enthusiasm for playing or listening to music. But we're all music analysts, whether we're arguing about the right place to use baroque ornamentation, comparing different conductors' interpretations of Beethoven symphonies, or the best way to develop a chord in a new composition.

From the Organ Loft: Getting There (Sort Of) by Edwin Kwong

When I began brainstorming for my column this month, I wasn’t really sure what I should write about, so in my typical manner of procrastination I jumped on Facebook. After a bit of mindless scrolling, I came across an article about the incomparable legacy of Johann Sebastian Bach. For those who know me personally, they will know how incredibly significant the music of JS Bach is to me, so the article was an easy read; I agreed with pretty much everything the author said.

Digging around the music section of the all-encompassing BBC Culture website, I read about men who sang like women (countertenors, or as I prefer to call them, m’altos – man altos), and about what makes the perfect Bond song (supposedly when the singer is a powerful woman; the evidence seems to back this up). But then a headline jumped to my attention: The Worst Singer in the World. Naturally, my overwhelming sense of schadenfreude prompted me to click on it, even though I knew there was only one person this article could be talking about — the infamous opera singer of the early 20th century, Florence Foster Jenkins.

In the history of bad singers, Florence Foster Jenkins stands heads and shoulders above all others. It makes complete sense why Bach is remembered and celebrated today; his genius is unparalleled. But why is Florence Foster Jenkins remembered, to the point where there is even a Hollywood feature film depicting her life? The author of her biography, Darryl W Bullock, suggests that we remember Jenkins because she wasn’t just a cheap laugh; amidst all her musical flaws, she was an eminently likeable person who had a sincere passion for music.

These two qualities of Jenkins' – her evident lack of musical ability and equally evident passion for music – give me a convenient segue back to the organ (to which this article, I must admit, has less of a link to than usual). There are many incredibly talented organists around the world, but there are just as many, if not more, who are not quite on top of their craft. I myself used to be a quick and harsh to judge, but after reading the article on Florence Foster Jenkins, I had a change of mind. Organists are perhaps some of the most passionate and nerdy people in terms of our dedication to our instrument - we are all serious geeks (just ask any of my friends and they will happily confirm that for you). Many organists, amateur or professional, continue to play into their seventies and eighties, long after everyone else in that age bracket has moved onto the likes of lawn bowls and bingo… All jokes aside, this level of dedication is unparalleled. While some of these amateur elderly organists might not be the greatest players or musicians, should we be so quick to judge? Even if the result isn’t entirely desirable, is the intention not the more noble part? If the act of creating music brings joy to these organists and to their listeners, should we not applaud them rather than to criticise so harshly?

Hence, to relate my article with the theme of REHEARSAL in May and June, Getting There, I’m going to humbly suggest that the present participle form of the phrase is the key to our musical journeys. Florence Foster Jenkins was getting there. Well-meaning amateur organists are getting there. Little children who have just begun learning to play an instrument are getting there. We’re all getting there. Has anyone ever gotten to the mystical land of 'there'? Perhaps Herr Bach has. But for us mere mortals, actively attempting to get there is all we can do – and that is entirely okay! To seek perfection is rather foolish, in my opinion. In an oft retold anecdote, the legendary cellist Pablo Casals was asked, when he was in his nineties, why he continued to practise every day. Casals supposedly replied (with debatable veracity) “Because I think I’m making progress.”

Florence Foster Jenkins too, was making progress. Slow progress perhaps, but progress nonetheless. She brought joy to her audience with her genuine passion for music; according to the actress Meryl Streep, who is playing Jenkins in the current biopic about her, “The idea of finding joy in what you’re doing… [is] something everybody can understand”. So, perhaps I was wrong. Maybe we can get 'there' after all. If we can find true joy in performing music, whether at home to ourselves, or on stage to a packed concert hall, or in a lonely organ loft to a half-empty church, then maybe we are already there.

Postcard from St. Petersburg by Alexandra Tchernakova

All countries have their stereotypes. People say it is wrong to stereotype, but stereotypes don’t come from nowhere and they are often somewhat close to the truth. Taking lessons at St. Petersburg Conservatory is no different. Expect a blunt and direct teaching style and lots of unnecessary paperwork. And expect a rich, traditional musical culture with Rachmaninoff, Tchaikovsky and Prokofiev taking centre stage. And expect to be inspired - the Conservatory is opposite the infamous Mariinsky Theatre. The musicians and composers who have studied at this conservatory and gone on to the theatre and then further afield is inspiration enough to get you through a tough day of lessons.

Deciding to move to St. Petersburg came from my Russian roots and wanting to learn the language that my mother’s side of the family all spoke. With a population of around six million people, the step up from Bristol in the UK (around half a million) didn’t go unnoticed but I was excited and ready for the ‘big city life’. This city is amazing. Everything is 24/7 - you can find a shop or restaurant at any time of day. Every night of the week you have a choice of concerts, operas and plays to go to. (You can often wangle a free or hugely discounted ticket by flashing your Conservatory badge.) For a foreigner, living here is cheap and people are generally very helpful and friendly towards foreigners. The city is absolutely stunning and you will never run out of new places to explore. Furthermore, post-Soviet Union Russia is fairly young and opportunities for young people are numerous and exciting. Young people here (in general) are creative, independent and original, which creates a vibrant, dynamic energy for the city. I was lucky enough to find a great apartment on Air BnB with five other twenty-somethings, who introduced me to lots of their friends and helped with making connections in the city.

Moving to any new place is never easy, and the best piece of advice I can give is to be open-minded without being stupid. Luckily, I already had some exposure to Russian culture which cushioned the blow slightly; however, there is a big cultural difference and it does take time to adjust. To the native-English speaker, Russians might initially come across as brusque and rude at times but this is completely unintentional and should be taken with a pinch of salt. The food also takes getting used to, and my father is lovely enough to keep me topped up with care packages of English tea, marmite, balsamic vinegar, and parmesan amongst other essentials.

My professors at the Conservatory are all varying degrees of crazy - but which musician isn’t - and they are all hugely talented musicians who really know their stuff: classical music. I have three different teachers for Solo Piano, Vocal Accompanying and Chamber Music and they are all wonderful and very supportive if you work hard and show commitment.

(This was after spending my first semester with a piano teacher whose teaching style was miles from what I needed or was used to, meaning I lost all direction and purpose in my playing. Don’t be afraid to speak up and ask for other options if you are not happy. I stayed quiet for the first couple of months, thinking that I just needed time to adjust to the teaching style before realising that adjustment or not, I wasn’t improving and had lost lots of my passion for the art. Speaking to my chamber music teacher was the start of a complete turnaround and my new teacher is one of the best.)

There are often concert opportunities around the city and it is easy to find a space if you want to organise your own concert. Practise rooms are, of course, a problem. (I am yet to hear of a music conservatory or school where this isn’t a problem.) I ended up joining the group of early-risers who go at 7am in order to guarantee a good three or four hours of practise time before all the rooms are taken up with lessons or lectures. However, the rouble is low and buying a piano here is not completely out of the question - I found an upright piano for free and it will cost me around $50 for delivery and $200 to get it into a good working state.

Unfortunately, having come straight from four years of studying at the University of Bristol in the UK (where music is constantly developing and electronic music and jazz are both at the forefront of the music scene), I have been slightly disappointed by the fixation on classical music and lack of interest in contemporary or modern music. The Russian public is generally still quite close-minded when it comes to new music - acoustic or electronic. I am certain this will change in the next ten to twenty years - St. Petersburg and Moscow are currently changing and evolving at an overwhelming pace, though it does mean I sometimes pine for the forward, outside-of-the-box thinkers I was surrounded by in Bristol. However, if anything I look at this as a positive as I feel that I can take my experience from the UK and make a change to the music scene here, having been exposed to musical ideas there that are still foreign to many in the city. In this sense, I feel that foreign musicians can and will have a very positive impact in this city. The future looks promising and exciting and I want to be a part of it.

Demystifying Music Technology: The Equalizer by Christopher Steller

Denzel Washington will not be making an appearance in this episode, and there will be no reference to using power tools as projectile weapons. My final part of explanation for the mixer channel strip will cover the section known as equalisation or the ’EQ’.

Home music systems often contain the ability to alter the tone of your music with treble and bass adjustment controls, which give a general increase or decrease in these areas of the sound (known as shelf EQ). In our DAW mixer channel the EQ is a lot more precise, using a device called a parametric EQ. You have the ability to select a frequency to control, decide how much of a chunk around the selected frequency you wish to change, and then decide whether you want to increase or decrease this frequency. The three parameters available in this process are frequency selection (kilohertz or kHz), gain (decibels or dB) and width (or Q).


One important thing to remember is that EQ is not just used to increase a tone or frequency of a sound - it can be used to remove unwanted clicks or squeaks, smooth out screechy instruments or vocals, or help blend two instruments that have very similar tonal characteristics (by removing some of those characteristics from one instrument so the other can stand out).

Within a DAW you are at an advantage over a traditional hardware mixer because you can have as many virtual equalisers as you want, and from an old school point-of-view the Reason channel strip in my previous article is perfect for the long-time user.

The EQ section of the more traditional looking Reason channel strip contains 4 bands or 4 different frequencies that can be altered in your sound: HF for High Frequency, HMF for High Mid Frequency, LMF for Low Mid, and LF for Low Frequency. To hear the effect of the EQ we’ll use the HMF: by increasing the gain of the dB knob by a small amount and then turning the kHz knob up and down, you will hear the results of adding gain at selected frequencies. By turning the dB control anti-clockwise, you will be decreasing the gain of the selected frequency - sweeping with the kHz knob now will result in a removal of tone at the selected frequency.

When you are working within Apple’s Logic, the Channel EQ plug-in gives you a visual representation of how it affects your audio across the frequency spectrum, which is great for professionals and first-timers.

If you have an audio track of an individual instrument or voice that you can experiment with in Logic, add the Channel EQ to the track and open it while the track is playing. When you move your mouse over the plug-in you will notice there are several colour-coded bands of EQ, so you have a lot of control here. Move over the horizontal line and you will see coloured circles appear - click and drag the circle near the 1k (kilohertz) point and move it around. You will notice the numerical settings for that point (which are also colour-coded) changing as you move: visual and numerical feedback, simultaneously, is a good thing. Now it’s critical listening time: drag the circle around slowly to hear what is happening - if you increase or decrease the gain of a frequency (vertical movement) you will hear a change in the tone of the track, and then by sweeping the circle left and right (horizontal movement) and listening carefully you can pinpoint highlights in the sound of the instrument. NOTE: at this point you can understand the importance of a good audio system to listen to your work - you need to hear the details of your editing.

In terms of the frequency bands of the Channel EQ plug-in, the four middle bands are parametric (as described earlier), the two outer bands are shelf EQ, affecting broader areas of the upper and lower sound, and the furthest left and right bands are filters (we won't worry about these now).

If you want your cellos to have a bit more bass, you can increase the low end of the recording with EQ. If you record a piano that has a squeaky sustain pedal, it is possible to soften the squeak by finding and decreasing that frequency area, but at the cost of anything else that occurs at the same frequency.

In studio terms, here are some ideas for enhancing a particular quality in an instrument:

+ Bass drum – bottom 50-120hz / boxiness 400hz / basketball sound 1khz / attack 2.5khz
+ Snare – fatness 100-240hz / boing 900-1khz / attack 5khz / snap 10khz
+ Rack toms – bottom 200-540hz / Ring 900hz / attack 5khz
+ Floor toms – bottom 90-120hz / attack 3-5khz
+ Cymbals – clang 200hz / crispness 7-10khz
+ Electric guitar – fullness 240-500hz / bite 2.5khz / edge 4khz
+ Acoustic guitar – fullness 80-120hz / body 240hz / presence 2.5-5khz
+ Piano – fullness 80hz / body 240hz / honky tonk 2.5khz / presence 5khz
+ Bass guitar – bottom at 60-100hz / string sound 700hz / snap 2.5khz-3khz
+ Vocals – Fullness 120hz / boominess 240hz / presence 5khz / air 10-15khz
+ Organ – Fullness 80hz / body 240hz / Presence 2-5khz
+ Horns – Fullness 120-240hz / piercing 5khz
+ Strings – Fullness 240hz / Scratchiness 7-10khz
+ Conga – Bottom 100-160hz / ring 200hz / slap 5khz

Postcard from London by Sam Sakker

I've been working at the Royal Opera House for almost two years now as a Jette Parker Young Artist, or what I like to call, an ‘apprentice divo’. This involves singing small roles, understudying big ones and watching how the Royal Opera House juggle multiple grand operas and ballets at the same time. Over the course of a year they put on approximately 150 performances of about 20 different operas. Some of these are brand new works, a large number are new productions, but many are revival shows like my latest show Tannhäuser, which was first staged in 2010.

Tannhäuser is a Richard Wagner opera written in the mid-1800s, steeped in the heights of nineteenth-century Germanic Romanticism - being a composite of a number of Thuringian mythologies and histories. It’s a behemoth of a show featuring big, bold and beautiful music with an orchestra of about 100, a chorus of 80-odd, dancers, and a bevy of singing knights, virgins, and harlots. Compared to some of Wagner’s other works Tannhäuser is a short 4.5 hours spread over three acts with a couple of refreshment breaks. The story is a parable for the strength of spiritual love against the lure of carnal desire following Heinrich Tannhäuser, a Knight of the Wartburg and Minnesinger (twelfth-century German poet/singer), as he struggles to forsake Venus’ charms and rekindle his relationship with the pure and chaste Elisabeth. There’s also a love triangle between he, Elisabeth and his fellow Minnesinger, Wolfram. Oh, and a singing competition between the knights about the nature of love (some might think a little outdated in the age of Tinder but the tunes are really catchy).

This genre of opera is a completely different kind of beast than I am used to because everything is all so enormous with such a large orchestra and chorus, so the solo voices needed for the piece have to be just as robust and durable. Subsequently, the people who sing Wagner sing A LOT of Wagner because their physiognomy is built for it. I'm a big boy myself at 1.9m tall and *cough**splutter* kg, but here I am looking up to half the guys in the cast, literally. Many are taller than I and some even by a full head - burly with big voices to match.

My character is Heinrich der Schreiber, Knight of the Wartburg and Minnesinger who, as the name suggests, is great with a pen. I come as part of the set of Minnesingers who find Tannhäuser, bring him back to the Wartburg to reunite with Elisabeth and reinstate the singing contests. I sing a lot, but only ever doo-wopping with the others - but as they say, ‘there are no small roles’ and I take preparation seriously. I've read a few different Wagner biographies, and as he is both composer and librettist of the piece it’s really important to know why he’s made specific choices textually and musically.

Funnily enough, there isn't much written about the illustrious Heinrich der Schreiber, so I took the time to write my own history and back-story to carry with me throughout the show:

I'm the youngest of the Minnesingers with a mother and sister in the Wartburg, my father died when I was young, and he had been a Minnesinger himself (hence why I became a singing knight and why I look up to all the others). I fancy Elisabeth but only from afar as I'm aware of her relationships with Tannhäuser and Wolfram.

Of course this was just something to offer director Tim Albery in the studio, and things were developed by him and in collaboration with my fellow singers.

The rehearsal process of this juggernaut was quite speedy because it was a revival show. We had two weeks in the studio to block and work the three acts, with another week and a half to coordinate everything on the stage. Maybe it sounds luxurious, but when one is layering in lighting, tech work, orchestra rehearsals, dance rehearsals, costuming and makeup, understudy rehearsals, all on top of one another across a 4.5 hour show, even with hundreds of top professionals involved time disappears very quickly. In fact, just because of the nature of the piece and the time constraints of rehearsals, it wasn't possible to run the entire opera until the final dress rehearsal. This kept us on our toes and I think brought some extra excitement to the show for our first audience.

In any case, after a couple of days rest we were all set to open on April 26 to a full house of Wagnerites and I can’t wait for the rest of the run.

In Conversation: Argo

The space in which you’re performing seems to play a large part in the music you program. Tell me about how you decide on a performance space, and consequently, how you fill it.

Ben:
It’s more a case of discovering a space rather than deciding on it I believe. We find interesting venues and look into if it would be feasible to produce a concert in them. For the filling of the venue we just look at any ideas the venue gives us and work out how we could imagine the concert looking and sounding.

Following on in that vein - what comes first, the performance space or the compositional process?

Connor:
The performance space comes first. It really does shape how the whole concert comes together, what musical textures/ensembles/ideas are appropriate/will work, an extra-musical influence, the logistics. The venue also gives each concert a unique character, which we want all the aspects of the experience to also have.

Argo prioritises performing world premieres at every concert - what are your individual writing processes? Do you come together to write in a collaborative way, or are all the pieces written separately?

Connor:
It's a bit of a mix of both. At first it starts collaboratively, and very focused on the space – we spend some time there, discuss the kind of ensembles we'd like to work with or would work in the space, the musical and textural ideas we have, spatial and performance-related ideas, like where we might place musicians, how the surround setup might interact with the space, etc. After brainstorming all the ideas we would like to work with, we begin to plan out the entire program as a whole, as a single musical journey: planning how different textures will connect from one to the next, which ensembles/performers are involved when, where we will be drawing the audiences attention towards and how sound will move throughout the space, the contour and proportions of it all, etc. From there we divide the program into more manageable sections/movements/interconnected-pieces, some to be worked on individually, and others in close collaboration. For example, for our first concert of the year Meditations, in Music for Large Spaces, a work for two pianos separated by the length of the cathedral, we worked in close collaboration - splitting off to write small ideas and sections, then working them into the work as a whole together.

In terms of my own compositional process, once I have the initial starting point for a work, be it a musical or textural idea, its context within a program, an extra-musical influence, or the premise for a commission, I improvise (on piano) to get a feel for ideas, textures and the character of the work. When I’ve collected together some material, I develop a clear structure for the work, proportioning it out and making some decisions as to tempi, keys, etc. These are all flexible, but just give some more direction to the process.The bulk of the writing process is split in two: at the piano, and at the computer. Each day that I’ve set aside for writing (I like to set aside entire days, if I am so lucky to have any), I write at the piano, pencil on paper, during the day. In the evening, I take what I’ve written that day, input it as it is into the computer, then edit it.

Ben:
My compositional process is extremely eclectic and hard to nail down. When writing for acoustic instruments I try to create emotional content without thinking too much about how it may interact with the electronics. I guess I work quite traditionally, thinking about musical ideas then writing them out on paper (with LOTS of shorthand). The most important thing to me is to have a complete version of the piece in my head that I just close my eyes and play through. Whenever I get too bogged down in finding the right notation for an idea or trying to figure something out on an instrument myself I return to this.

With a background in classical music, what strikes you about electronic music - and keeps you wanting to push boundaries related to form and genre?

Ben:
What strikes me about electronic music is the sheer power offered by the unlimited possibilities for new sounds. Every day of my life I could sit down with my computer and some gear and create a sound that nobody has ever heard before. While you may argue that a violinist might do the same thing in the way they perform, I would counter that the violinist always has a context for their creation whereas with electronics everything can be a fresh discovery to some extent. As far as pushing boundaries, I don’t really think I go out of my way to push anything on purpose, I just make the music I want to and it sometimes just happens that way, because I like things that involve some very traditional elements and some very progressive elements at the same time.

What is it about the combination of acoustic instruments and soundscapes that draws you in? What captivates you about the combination?

Ben:
I think about it as kind of like an extension of the natural world. Every performance ever has occurred within a soundscape of some kind, dictated by context, period and even the shape of the room it is performed in. For example, St John’s cathedral, where we did our Meditations concert, had an incredible natural soundscape comprised of traffic noise being warped and transformed by the cathedral’s immense organic reverberation. My work simply stems from wanting to extend and control the soundscape that acoustic instruments perform in, and create some of ideal sound world for the music to occur in. Its really captivating because it lets you evoke moods and emotions in the audience from the moment they enter a venue - you get this kind of “metamusic” in which the performance can take place.

What inspired you to start Argo, and begin programming and developing your own shows?

Connor:
Ben and I have been good friends for years, having studied music together at UQ. We’ve always enjoyed working together, brainstorming and bouncing ideas off each other, looking over each others work, giving advice and helping edit and redraft, and we came to work out that not only were our musical styles very compatible, but also that we both held some pretty similar (not to mention ambitious) ideas about many aspects of music and art. Last year we thought to test the waters on collaborating closely on something, to put together a concert experience of all our own works. So we formed Argo, to organise such concerts, to collaborate on writing and performing our works, starting off with a concert in the University of Queensland Art Museum in collaboration with their exhibit Light Play. The concert, surprisingly enough also called Light Play, was a huge success, and things have just gone on from there, this year launching an entire concert series!

What can an audience expect at Flow?

Connor:
Well we don’t want to give too much away... Let's just say we want you to "fall down the rabbit hole” with us. It’s going to be a surreal experience to fit a similarly surreal venue: underground in Brisbane’s iconic Spring Hill Reservoir. Think complex and constantly shifting soundscapes, musicians appearing from all around the depths of the reservoir’s many maze-like chambers, and music for classical guitar, electric guitar, and violin cello duo, amplified and manipulated in surround sound. Also afterwards there’ll be some cheese and wine, provided by our friends over at Musica Viva, that’ll be fun too.

From The Organ Loft: The Role of the Organ by Edwin Kwong

The pipe organ – in my opinion, the most unknown well-known instrument in the musical world. Now what exactly do I mean? Well, it is quite rare to find someone who has never heard of a pipe organ before, within the Western world at least, whether or not they have any musical knowledge or experience with classical music. This is because of the ubiquity which the organ once had, and still does to a lesser extent, in Western society – present in many of the major events of one’s life: weddings, funerals, graduations, the list goes on. However, it is largely unknown in that most people will also never have actually listened to a pipe organ in concert - it is simply background music. It is a tragedy to me for such a wonderful instrument to be relegated to a mere supporting role.

In a recent article by music critic Thierry Chervel in the German newspaper, Die Welt, he noted that early encyclopaedia entries noted that instrumental music before Bach was an “eine Sprache ohne Vokale”, or “a language without vowels”. Whilst obviously we now know that is entirely untrue, I think that phrase is rather applicable to the world of the organ today. The language of the organ is an inimitable one, and whilst this has created a unique niche and interest for the organ amongst the pantheon of instruments, it has also perhaps limited access from the wider public to it. The increasing unfamiliarity of non-organist composers with the instrument, particularly in Australia, is also problematic. Whilst it cannot be expected for composers, or the public, to be familiar with every instrument within the classical world – I believe that an adequate level of musical literacy should comprise a good knowledge of the pipe organ.

For such an awesome (in both senses of the word) instrument to be propelled back into the mainstream classical world, we not only need organists to speak out and advocate for the instrument, but also for composers to take note of the endless possibilities that the organ can offer them in terms of creative expression. The body of classical music is expanded every single day, with new music composed for many instruments – so why ignore an instrument which has been so critical to music in the past, and which continues to offer such an astonishing range of possibilities?

In the high-pressure and volatile society we live in today, fine music should be valued more as a curative solution to the stresses of modern life. Organ music in particular, has long been associated with the induction of strong emotions for centuries. It is not by chance that it is the designated instrument of the Christian church – research has shown that infrasound (sound below the range of normal human hearing, 20Hz) may stimulate feelings of awe, “chills down the spine” or even fear. It is interesting to note that the notes between bottom C to E of a pedal 32ft stop, or C0 to E0, have frequencies between 16.35-20.60Hz. Therefore, it is not surprising at all that listening to organ music, especially when it involves the lowest range of notes, can be a moving and sometimes even cathartic experience for many people. Indeed, our preoccupation with bass began long before the arrival of modern electronic music…

By way of remarking upon the exceptional character of organ music, it is important that composers should put themselves in the shoes of an organist when composing for the organ – as much as organists enjoy a challenge, there are limits to our multitasking abilities, and to our instruments! So here is a message from this organist to all the composers, young or old, out there: learn about the organ, and write music for it! It is much like learning a new language – challenging, but incredibly rewarding. The tonal palette of the pipe organ is unbelievably wide and highly variable from instrument to instrument, and arguably is only second to a symphony orchestra, in terms of being the most immersive musical experience.

Please don’t hesitate to contact me if I have stimulated your interest in composing music for the ‘King of Instruments’, I would be very happy to chat to you about organ music, and perhaps even to perform your work!

Postcard from Singapore by Bethany Nette

Hello from Singapore!

I have recently completed my studies at the Yong Siew Toh Conservatory of Music (YSTCM), and I wanted to share with you the story of my experiences in Singapore and also offer some advice for students considering studying music overseas.

After graduating high school in Melbourne, I auditioned for the local conservatories and also YSTCM. Though I was successful with all auditions, YSTCM offered me a full scholarship. Before accepting, I researched what life would be like in Singapore and decided the challenge of studying overseas and breadth of opportunities that the YSTCM degree offered was all too good to resist. So at 18 I moved to Singapore. Now four years later, I'm so glad I took the risk. My experience in Singapore has opened up the world to me, with YSTCM providing me opportunities to study and perform in Asia, America and Europe.

I have not only studied Western classical music, I have also had the opportunity to experience traditional music of other cultures – particularly South East Asia. A particular interest in community engagement developed in my senior years and I’ve been privileged to receive training by world class practitioners.

Singapore is an international hub, and rightly calls itself a cultural 'melting pot'. The Arts are generously funded and popularly supported along with a strong focus on nurturing innovation, creativity and entrepreneurship. While studying in Singapore, I have had the chance to watch world-class orchestras and trumpet players from around the globe who perform at Singapore's prime Arts precinct, the Esplanade.

I faced two main challenges in living overseas: developing a support network from ground zero and overcoming the 'culture shock' of moving to a new country. Once I started at the Conservatory, the support network developed naturally. YSTCM is a highly multicultural school with students from over 22 countries, and it's also a very small conservatory with only 200 students. I had no problem settling in as all the students were in the same situation as me (having just moved away from their own support networks back home) and before long I had learnt everyone's names and it felt like a family.

The 'culture shock' of moving from Melbourne to Singapore was immediate. I was unused to the bustling (but very efficient) 'MRT' transport system, and experienced myself as a minority in a highly diverse population. However, this sense of 'shock' was quick to fade as I realised I was the one who had the issue with being different, and I just had to let that go. I soon learnt the flow of moving about in large crowds and now it is just second nature.

Singapore's business language is English, so it's easy to make myself understood – though I've found on occasions I've had to alter my accent to be more articulate (get rid of the Aussie slur) to be clearly understood. Getting around has been easy too as most of Singapore’s signage is in English, though it also caters for Chinese, Malay and Indian.

The biggest thing I've learnt about studying abroad is finding a sense of home within myself. When moving around a lot, with no direct emotional support network, I've needed to find methods to cope and the most effective method for me is just feeling present at where I am and letting go of the need to be somewhere else, like 'home'. The other most influential thing I’ve found, particularly when I've been involved with community outreach projects such as Baltimore's 'Orchkids', is to look beyond social and cultural differences and appreciate everyone's possibility for greatness.

My advice for any music students considering studying abroad is to throw yourself fully into all the new experiences and opportunities that arise, because that stretches you out of your comfort zone and allows you to adapt and grow not only musically and professionally but also personally too.

Take Note: Scholarships by Jess Crowe

To give us the inside info on how you get a scholarship, and what you do with a scholarship, and what a scholarship even is, we have collected some brilliant insights from Summer Bowen, Samantha Wolf and Alejandro Téllez-Vargas, as well as some information from the VCA & MCM Scholarships Office to help us out. Let us know about your experience, or if you have any questions in the comments below!

Summer Bowen

My first semester at MCM was rewarding but financially challenging. Moving from Queensland to Melbourne for study used up my savings, Centrelink took two months to process my student allowance claim, and I was working long hours to make ends meet. I took out a short term loan with the Financial Assistance Office (another helpful initiative!) for textbooks and sundries, but I didn't have a desk or bed for most of the semester. My grades were good but I knew I wasn't doing my best work.

I applied for five scholarships through the university website. The application documents were time-consuming but not too difficult to prepare: a detailed financial circumstances report, a CV, biography, and a cover letter to the board. About a fortnight after the closing date I received a letter from the Dean confirming a scholarship! To accept, I had to sign and email an agreement on the terms and conditions, a recipient questionnaire, editorial release form, a bank details form for the funds transfer, and finally a thank-you letter to the benefactors which I wrote with intense gratitude.

This particular scholarship (the MCM Faculty Arts Victoria Creative Scholarship for Disadvantaged Students) required that I submit an annual progress report with my grades and an overview of my study expenses. The funds subsidised my travel costs to uni, textbooks/readers, scores, masterclass and eisteddfod fees, vocal coaching, a VCA intensive and XL Arts development courses, performance physiotherapy, Feldenkrais and yoga classes, and assistance with daily expenses like rent and internet bills when necessary. It gave me some space to breathe and fully commit to my study, and made an incredible difference to my life.

Samantha Wolf

I’m fortunate enough to have been awarded two scholarships through the Melbourne Conservatorium: the Cassidy Bequest Trust Scholarship, and the Alan C. Rose Memorial Trust Scholarship. The Cassidy Bequest was awarded on the basis of academic achievement and financial need, so the application included financial information as well as academic records. I tried to be as detailed and honest as possible with my financial information. I tend to underestimate variable expenses, so it helped to look through my bank statements and find out what I actually spent on things like groceries, transport and incidentals. The figure I put down was what I would spend in an average week. I also detailed my personal circumstances as they applied to my financial position. For example, if your parents are unable to support you, or if you’ve had to leave your support networks to move to Melbourne, it’s important that you include that in your application.

The Rose application was quite different. This scholarships supports projects with demonstrable benefit to the community. The application involved a detailed event proposal and budget, in addition to academic results. Even though I had a clear idea of what I wanted to do, it still took a couple of weeks to figure out the exact details and put it all in writing, so make sure you start well before the closing date!

I started my proposal with headings drawn from the scholarship criteria: background (a paragraph about my interest in the area), project summary (1-2 paragraphs about what the project will actually be), objectives, performance and research goals, community contribution goals, professional development goals, expected outcomes, timeframe, budget, and key stakeholders. I began with a couple of dot points and gradually wove them into paragraphs. I made sure that I included outcomes that were specific and measurable – not just “I want to put on a new music concert”, but “I want to commission four new chamber and electroacoustic works from four early- to mid-career Australian composers”.

For the budget, I included not only the projected cost, but also a detailed breakdown of how I came to that figure. I started with the most obvious things – room hire, artist fees, personnel, equipment and marketing – then worked down into the smaller details. For example, instead of having one figure for the total venue cost, I broke it down to the per-hour hire fees for the performance, rehearsals, bumping in and out, and staffing costs (at least one front of house manager and one technician, for a minimum 3-hour call per day). I ended up contacting a number of prospective venues and obtaining detailed quotes. My ideal venue’s figures were the figures I put into my application.

It’s worth mentioning at this point that the Rose scholarship, and most grants, are designed to fund part of a project, not the entire cost. You should apply with your ideal budget, but make sure you have a workable contingency plan if you don’t receive 100% of what you asked for, because you probably won’t. This is frustrating, but it’s also a valuable learning experience. As a working artist, you will face obstacles and setbacks in your career. Think of this as an opportunity to hone your problem-solving and lateral thinking skills!

In addition to the proposal and budget, project-based scholarships require you to show why you are the best candidate to realise the project. In my case, this included work experience, volunteering, student concerts I’ve organised, industry contacts, as well as academic achievement, skill and passion. I basically treated it like a job application, and outlined how I would utilise my attributes to make the project a success. Don’t be afraid to talk yourself up!

Alejandro A. Téllez-Vargas

As an international student (Mexico), scholarships have allowed me to pursue my academic interests outside my home country. I was fortunate enough to receive a Fulbright Scholarship for International Postgraduate Studies at the United States of America. With this scholarship, I studied a Master’s Degree in Piano Performance at the University of North Texas (UNT), one of the largest faculties of music from the U.S.A.

Every year, approximately 4,000 students from 155 countries around the world receive this scholarship to study and conduct research in the U.S.A. It covers partial (sometimes complete) tuition fees, airfare, a living stipend, and health insurance. In addition to all its benefits, the Institute of International Education (IIE) assists students who are awarded with their application processes.

In contrast with other international scholarships, prospective students need to apply for the Fulbright scholarship before getting an admission offer. After I was awarded, I provided a list with six universities to the IIE. They applied on my behalf and I simply had to travel to do my auditions.

When I got a couple of offers, I chose UNT because I had really good chemistry with my piano teacher. Plus, UNT has one of the best music libraries from the U.S.A. and the best jazz program from the northern hemisphere (UNT has nine big bands and stages one opera per month!) While this is a highly competitive scholarship, it is also the best option for international students interested in attending an American University. If you’re interested in finding out more about this scholarship, feel free to contact me! (alextellez@gmail.com).

Edwina Buckley: Scholarship Officer – VCA and MCM Scholarships Office

Current or future music students should look at the Faculty of the VCA & MCM scholarships website (http://vca-mcm.unimelb.edu.au/scholarships), which has a full listing of awards, scholarships and prizes provided by the Faculty, including those for which an application is not required – these are all based upon results and are given at the end of each semester. While we cannot offer assistance with proofreading or writing applications, we are happy to help with specific eligibility queries or concerns. There is also a Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ) section on our website for general and common queries, and I run a Scholarship Application Information session each semester (at the start of each application round).

Once students have a look at the application they will see that it is actually very straightforward – there are no tricks to the form! Most of it is taken up with personal information (contact details, academic history, budget details if the scholarship is for financial need) and then has between 2-3 free text questions about what makes this applicant stand out (for example, what makes you a compelling candidate for this scholarship? How would you use the money?). These questions allow the committee to get a sense of your qualities and to show how much thought you have given to using this money.

Our applications are all standardised as well, so once a student has applied for one scholarship, they will be well placed to easily apply for other ones. We strongly encourage all students to have a look at what is available and to invest the small amount of time it takes to apply. Winning a scholarship not only provides a financial boost but also is an indication of recognition by the Faculty. It is also a meaningful addition to a CV to list your scholarship achievements. If in the end you are unsuccessful in receiving a scholarship, the University Financial Aid office may be able to help (http://services.unimelb.edu.au/) – they provide financial advice and assistance in the areas of housing grants, short term loans, budgeting and financial aid.

Demystifying Music Technology: Adding a Touch of Realism by Christopher Steller

The Virtual Ensemble Takes Shape

When you watch a performance by an ensemble of any size, you do tend to become used to instrument positioning - violin on the left, cello on the right, piano positioned depending on the size of the group and the stage setup. With a larger number of musicians, you might consider a percussion section, with tympanist towards the rear on the right (I'm still talking about the audience's perception), violas slightly off centre to the right, and so on.

Creating your virtual ensemble when you are composing on a computer will mean that these instrument positions should be considered if you are aiming for a level of realism, or familiarity, in your final product.

So what are the factors involved in a listener’s perception of a musical group?

When you have a number of tracks recorded for your trio, quartet, etcetera, you can then utilise the features of the DAW mixer that can achieve this realism. The pan pot that we talked about previously can give you stereo positioning of your musicians - select your violinist and pan the track to the left around 45 degrees. Do the same with your cellist, except make it 45 degrees to the right. Your piano should stay in the centre for a small ensemble. Woodwind and brass are generally sitting further back in a larger group, and this can be achieved several ways - the simplest way is to turn the volume fader down on an instrument that is further away from you, the listener. Genius!

So, panning and volume can give you the layout of your entire orchestra.

To add further realism to your overall sound, you can add a virtual auditorium or concert hall to your production. Reverberation or reverb is the collection of reflections or echoes that occur in a large space, and all of the current DAWs available offer some form of simulated room space in the form of a reverb plugin. When you are working with reverb, you can apply it two ways: you can insert it on an instrument channel, which means it is only used by that instrument, or my preferred method, which is to set it up on a buss or FX channel. This method means that you can use the reverb on every instrument in your mix, which means providing more positioning information to your musicians. If you apply more reverb it sounds like the instrument is further away, less reverb it sounds closer.

Most modern reverb plugins use a method known as convolution to simulate the size of a room, which basically means that someone has taken a sampling of the reverb in a particular space (yes, you can obtain impulse responses from famous auditoriums and cathedrals from around the world), so you can recreate very specific environments for your mix.

This is an important aspect in the overall sound, as different performance spaces can change the tone of a performance quite dramatically. The stone of an old church will have a very different reflective quality to a modern glass and tile restaurant that has put more detail into the visual aesthetic, rather than the aural.

When working with reverb, experiment as much as possible, and be subtle.

In Conversation: Shoestring Opera

Ahead of their Melbourne International Comedy Festival season, we talked to Matthew Toogood, the artistic director of Shoestring Opera, about the upcoming production of Offenbach's Le 66, and the freedom of staging a rarely performed opera.

What made you choose Offenbach’s Le 66? It is a little known production in Australia - what drew you to it?

When searching for repertoire for Shoestring Opera Melbourne there are a number of criteria that I look to fulfill. Firstly it must be a chamber piece; I'm not keen to reduce a full opera down to diminished forces. Though I have still revised the orchestrations for both Le 66 and our previous production Rita, thankfully I haven't had to sacrifice any original essence of the piece. Secondly the setting and narrative have to grab my interest - an audience will not be convinced if they are not engaged. At the moment we are looking at presenting comic-operas in order to build our audience base, but in the future we would be keen to branch out. Finally at the moment we work on a profit-share basis, so the cast is best kept to only a few singers, in order that everyone is compensated for their time and performance.

Jacques Offenbach is perhaps the greatest exponent of this repertoire of opera-comique. Almost unknown to even the greatest Offenbach fans, Le 66 belongs to the period when Offenbach was writing for the Théâtre des Bouffes Parisiens (Salle Lacaze). In 1855 Offenbach obtained a licence from the Parisian Authorities for the use of this 300-seat theatre, located at Carré Marigny near the Exposition Universelle (1855). So successful was his venture that from 1855 to 1859 he premiered over 16 of his own theatrical works at the Salle Lacaze. The licence however (extending to his second theatre, Salle Choiseul) restricted the productions to a maximum of five characters on stage. So it is that 'Le 66' premiered at the Salle Lacaze on 31 July 1856 with a cast of three.

What freedoms do you have in producing a work that isn’t well-known? What challenges?

The original french libretto (written by Pittaud de Forges and Laurencin (Paul Aimé Chapelle)) follows the travels of two tyrollean buskers travelling to Strasbourg. Upon meeting a colporteur (pedlar) near Stuttgart, Frantz learns that he has won the lottery with his ticket "66". For Shoestring Opera Melbourne's production I have translated the French libretto from scratch, since there appears to be no English translation written, and modernised the language without distracting from the original setting or storyline. Though the narrative has been tightened and 35 pages of dialogue cut down to 7, one plot flaw that I have intentionally left in as per the original, is the absurdity that while his wife lives in Strasbourg, Berthold is travelling first to Tirol to inform his wife's family that he isn't dead. Why he wouldn't want to tell his wife first seems rather absurd, but hopefully adds to the comedy of the piece.

A time-consuming procedure is certainly re-writing the orchestrations. Though I haven't actually had to change much, there was no score. Hence I had to source original individual parts, which were hand-written and full of mistakes and whole sections missing.

Finally simply getting an audience along to see a piece that they have never heard of is a challenge in itself. We rely a lot on word of mouth from people that go and see the show. So repeat performances are worthwhile if we can afford to produce them. For Rita we only had two performances, but people enjoyed it so much, that they actually came back to see the second performance!

Tell us about the humour in the show - what makes this the perfect operetta for the Melbourne International Comedy Festival?

We aim to keep our shows around the hour mark, which works extremely well for audiences perhaps not as accustomed to sitting through a 3.5 hour dramatic opera. As part of the Melbourne International Comedy Festival this fits the format of most other acts in the festival and hopefully will attract a greater audience to a different genre of comedy.

The comedy is derived from quite a simple plot line, absurdities and stereotypes. Our tyrollean buskers are dressed in dirndle and lederhosen, the characterisation of the pedlar is akin to a sleazy used-cars salesman, our set of the Blackforest in Germany is created by numerous borrowed Christmas trees, and there are some extremely funny musical devices within Offenbach's music. Even the orchestra at the first rehearsal was in stitches!

You have worked extensively in opera as both a repetiteur and a conductor. What drew you to the working in opera originally?

I was mostly drawn to opera around age 20. I liked the collaboration and efforts of numerous forces in order to even stage an opera - backstage hands, orchestra, singers, chorus, set builders, costumes, makeup, and finally the cathartic response one experiences as an audience member watching it all unfold. As a pianist practicing alone all day, I think I yearned for collaboration and shared musical experiences.

What about being a pianist and a vocal coach helps you prepare for your role as an opera conductor? Are you better equipped to understand the score, or help the singers?

Absolutely. There are of course conductors who conduct opera without really knowing much about the voice, but in my experience it becomes very one-sided and un-organic. When a conductor knows how to breathe musically, the singer feels very comfortable, as if the conductor is really "helping" them do their best. It gives the singer on stage the freedom and flexibility to take risks and create something even more special on stage.

I approach conducting opera on a similar level as accompanying Lieder. If the composer has done their job well, the text gives the drama, the pace, the breathing, the phrasing and from there you work on accuracy, ensemble, direction and balance.

What can your audience expect at your MICF performance of Le 66?

At Shoestring Opera Melbourne we are keen for audiences to enjoy themselves and feel relaxed watching a piece of live professional music-theatre. In being part of the Comedy Festival we hope to appeal to both regular opera-goers and entice a greater audience to the world of opera. We are extremely keen therefore on making the experience very accessible. Our ticket prices start at $15 for students (including tertiary), which is less than a movie ticket - and less than 4 coffees! Not bad for a live opera! The setting at the Athenaeum Theatre, upstairs in the Comedy Club, provides a very relaxed environment, whereby audiences are free to grab a drink from the bar while they watch, and they are close to the action - no need for opera-glasses!

In being a "shoestring"-sized group, our concept is to get back to basics - singers communicating through voice and character a narrative in an intimate and informal setting, but at a professional level. The need for lavish sets and costumes is superfluous when an audience is convinced by the performers themselves.

From the Organ Loft: The Organs of France by Edwin Kwong

France. Lots of people love it for many reasons, but for me, there are three: it has great food, a beautiful language, and an enviable organ music culture!

France has produced an amazing number of well-known composers since the Middle Ages, but great compositions for the organ did not originate from France until the Romantic period. The main reason for this is that, like England, organ building in France languished far behind its German and Dutch contemporaries. Without the right tools to play around with, composers naturally could not do much.

That all changed when the great organ builder Aristide Cavaillé-Coll began building new organs in his inimitable style. He constructed what became known as symphonic organs – instruments capable of evoking a plethora of tonal colours, much like a complete symphony orchestra. Two of the greatest composers of the Cavaillé-Coll period, César Franck and Charles-Marie Widor, both remarked on the whole new world of musical possibilities that his organs brought forth – and indeed, much of my experiences in France share the common link of Maître Aristide Cavaillé-Coll.

Franck on discovering the new Cavaillé-Coll organ at the church of Saint-Jean-Saint-François-au-Marais: “Mon nouvel orgue? C’est un orchestre!” (My new organ? It’s an orchestra!)

Widor on composing for Cavaillé-Coll’s symphonic organs: “For this new instrument we must have a new language.”

The pipe organ has a reputation for being stuck in the past – and perhaps this is a fair assessment, as there are many within the organ community who see new modes of expression or innovation as an unnecessary diversion from what has been normalised as acceptable practice. However, I strongly believe that just as we organists remain rooted in the grand tradition that we inherit, we should also be very aware of the world we inhabit today and learn how to adapt our art for the modern world, both musically and socially.

The Past

I thought it would be useful to split this article into three distinct sections – as I certainly had a glimpse into the past, present and future of the organ in France in the short time that I was there.

The first organ that I visited in France was in the Basilica of St. Denis. The basilica is extraordinarily historic for two reasons: almost every French monarch in history has been buried in the crypt of the church, and the organ of the church is the first that Aristide Cavaillé-Coll ever built. Pierre Pincemaille, the organiste titulaire (or primary organist) is one of the great guardians of the French organ tradition. He improvised with ease at the mass I attended on a Sunday morning, though the same cannot be said of my attempts at singing the hymns of the day in French…

To shift from the alpha to the omega, I also had a chance to visit and play one of Cavaillé-Coll’s last great projects, the grand organ at the Abbey of St. Ouen, Rouen, in Upper Normandy. Widor once described this incredible instrument as the “Michelangelo of organs,” and it is often the object of veneration for many organists around the world. This instrument’s connection with the past is astonishing – since it was completed in 1890, it has not been altered, and even the manuals are original. This means that I’ve played on the same keys and pedals as Widor, who inaugurated the organ on April 17th, 1890, as well as other esteemed organists who have played this great instrument, such as Louis Vierne, Albert & Marcel Dupré, Maurice Duruflé – the list goes on!

Not many instrumentalists can say they have played the music of its composer in the same building, let alone on the same instrument which the composer him/herself played on. Indeed, this is one of the greatest privileges of being an organist.

The Present

Moving on to the present – perhaps one of the most recognisable organists today in France, as well as around the world, today is Olivier Latry, one of the three organiste titulaire at Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris. He is recognised worldwide as a supremely gifted concert and liturgical organist and improviser, so it was a great privilege when he allowed me up to the organ loft at Notre Dame with him during Vespers and evening Mass for Epiphany.

The organ console of a French organist looks drastically different (and cleaner) from a typical Anglican organist’s – usually an Anglican organist will have various hymn books, pieces of music, and loose sheets of paper strewn everywhere; a French organist needs just one hymnal with only the melody notated. The rest of the service is entirely improvised.

To watch Olivier Latry improvise was really quite similar to watching a magician perform – I was amazed and astounded, but I didn’t really know how it happened! The effortless creation of musical ideas and transition between styles (from French classical, through romantic, into modern) by Latry was incredible, and absolutely inspiring.

The Future

Looking towards the future of the organ in France, I believe we are in good hands – especially with a younger generation of organists such as Thomas Ospital leading the way. Thomas is the co-titular organist at the central Parisian church of St Eustache, and I had the great pleasure of meeting him whilst I was in Paris. He demonstrated the organ, masterfully, to two of Olivier Latry’s students at the Conservatoire national supérieur de musique et de danse de Paris (CNSMDP) and myself. Again, the improvisational powers of a French organist were on full display as Thomas played with boundless energy, demonstrating the capabilities of the 8000-pipe grand organ.

To wrap up this article, as well as my three-part series on the pipe organ in Europe, I’d like to once again extend my sincerest gratitude to all those who aided me in my journey, and those of you who have read my ramblings thus far. I strongly urge you all to attend an organ recital near you in the near future! It is a wonderful instrument capable of an incredible range of musical expression - indeed, an instrument carrying centuries of history, but supported by the passion and devotion of its torchbearers, and it never fails to capture my imagination.

Postcard from Japan by Marty Hicks

At the risk of sounding overly spiritual, I came to Japan primarily with the intent of embarking on a musical journey – admittedly with not much direction besides that. If you have an obsession, you often don’t spend too much time thinking about why you have it and what you’re going to do with it – it’s there and it keeps you occupied; it gives you something to look forward to. I ended up with an obsession for Japanese music of all shapes and styles, so I was naturally drawn to the desire for more knowledge about it, of being closer to its origin. This kind of abstract justification, however, isn't quite a concise enough answer for the hordes upon hordes of Japanese people I meet here in Tokyo whose first question is inevitably, “Why are you studying music in Japan, of all places?” – tinged with a kind of endearing incredulity, and a smattering of gratification. “Don’t people who study music usually go to Vienna, or America?”

Why Japan, indeed?

After a few years studying Japanese as a second language, it came to occupy the same sort of position in my life as music had. Perhaps because I often found myself practising the language like I would practice music: drilling vocabulary and grammar patterns every day like technical work, listening to Japanese radio and watching Japanese movies while imitating things like intonation, accent and speech patterns – its sound began to seem like music. When I spoke Japanese it often didn't feel like I was talking in another language, it was more akin to making music; I was essentially making and replicating sounds I had learnt from things that I had heard and memorized, and rearranging them so that I could express what I wanted to express.

When I began to delve into the world of traditional Japanese music, I felt like those two spheres of my existence began to overlap – the role that the language played in the history of the country’s music, and conversely how music helped refine the characteristics of the language and its mode of expression, were very interesting concepts to me as a musician and composer. To satisfy these parts of my burgeoning curiosity, I began looking into funding and other ways to study Japan’s music in the country of its origin.

The Monbukagakusho (Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports, Science and Technology) scholarship, commonly referred to as the MEXT Scholarship, offers a minimum of two years financial support for anyone wishing to undertake research in a Japanese university. Airfares for a return flight as well as tuition fees are waived, and they also offer a monthly stipend of ¥144,000 (equal to about $1750AUS) and an optional six-month language training program. It’s an ideal way to fund study and research in Japan, but as it’s a scholarship funded by the Japanese government and awarded to thousands of people around the world each year, the application process is a rigorous and stressful one. I applied in 2014, and throughout the year I was put through three initial screening stages: a written test in both English and Japanese, an interview with representatives of MEXT from both Japan and Australia, and finally an application for a ‘certificate of provisional acceptance’ into the universities I had designated. Upon passing the first two stages, you are advised to nominate three universities that can accommodate your research theme, and if possible, contact the professors that could act as supervisors for your research. This proved to be the most awkward and time-consuming part of the scholarship application process; the application form itself is tens of pages long, and it is a requirement to send three original copies to the three designated universities, with a plethora of other official documentation such as academic transcripts, referrals from past professors and employers, and passport-like photos of yourself with very strict geometrical guidelines. As most of the application can’t be made digitally, I spent a long time waiting for the packages to get passed around between countries and approved (there ended up being some sections I hadn't filled out properly). Paired with frantic calls to the Japanese embassy in Canberra where a member of the Education department reassuringly guided me through the maze-like process, it ended up being quite a while before I obtained the necessary documentation required to complete the application successfully – but it happened, and I was flown to Japan in April 2015.

My university of choice was the Tokyo University of the Arts, which boasted an enormous reputation as the most prestigious arts university in the country. They had a rather lively traditional music department into which I was enrolled as a ‘non-degree research student’, under the supervision of a shamisen performer from the tokiwazu school. Hoping to earn my Masters degree while on the scholarship, I endeavoured to find out how to enter the department as a full time student, only to learn that I had to undergo another series of exams, including an audition on a traditional Japanese instrument, which was naturally an impossibility for me. I became a sort of strange anomaly within the department – a jazz piano player from Australia who, for some reason, wanted to study traditional music, but was a complete beginner.

The time I spent with my supervisor, however, a distinguished kabuki (traditional Japanese theatre) musician and bearer of an Intangible Cultural Asset, was an experience I’ll not soon forget. A kind and open-minded man with a flair for cheeky humour, he was keen to bridge the gap between the ever-ageing styles of traditional Japanese music and modern music, and even went as far as to organize and feature me in free-improvisation sessions with other students from the department. His wealth of knowledge inspired and fed my creativity, and he pushed me to keep pursuing my interests, never directly asking me “Why Japan?” like so many other people had.

After another rigorous battle with mountains of forms and paperwork, and then an exam and interview in Japanese, I was lucky enough to be offered a place in the Musical Creativity and the Environment department at TUA, and am due to start my Masters course in earnest from this April. There I can continue to unearth the hidden secrets of the bizarre music that Japan has been producing since the eighth century, and continue to follow this strange path my interests have been leading me down. Thanks to my experiences at TUA thus far, I am being exposed to music that can really only be heard in its purest form in Japan; and so my instinctual reaction to the “Why Japan?” question has often been, why not Japan, a country with such a vast and florid history of music? Spending the majority of your life pursuing your passion might result in a few inquisitive glances, but after all, the path less travelled is often the most interesting one.

Demystifying Music Technology: Putting The Musicians In Their Place by Christopher Steller

This isn't an exercise in dressing down or humiliating your virtual ensemble. I'm actually going to delve deeper into the functionality of your DAW software and introduce some basic concepts of those functions.

In a traditional recording studio everything revolved around the mixing console, and for a very good reason: it controlled everything! The musical performances were all routed through the mixing console, and then sent off to an external recording device (multitrack recorder). After all of the recordings were done, the individual tracks were fed back to the mixing desk, where the production team would decide the overall balance and tone of the piece (the mixdown). After that's done, the stereo mix was sent off to be mastered, so that it was perfectly presented for pressing to vinyl or CD.

The steps can all be reproduced within your DAW software, with a little bit of research and an understanding of the reasoning behind the steps. Even if you are only recording or emulating a small ensemble, the mixing process is a make or break step in the overall result.

If you look at a mixing console for the first time, many people immediately comment on the complexity of the whole thing, and often make remarks such as “you’d need a pilot’s licence to operate that thing”. However, if you look closer, you'll see that the knobs are arranged in strips, with a microphone plugged in at the top, with the audio signal going through various stages until it reaches the bottom, usually ending with a fader for volume. Looking from left to right, this is repeated multiple times, depending on the configuration of the mixer, i.e. 8, 16 or 24 channels, etc. If you know what one of these channel strips is doing, you know what all of them are doing.

Okay, so what is this channel strip doing? There will be many minor variations to this description, but we’ll describe a basic channel and run with that for the moment.

Just below the input there is a knob called gain or trim - this determines the input volume of the audio source, microphone or instrument. If the signal is weak you turn it up. Following the gain section is the EQ section - this is an important process because the sound can be equalised with complex treble and bass controls to make the sound blend in better. The next section is commonly marked as the AUX section - it has auxiliary audio paths to extra devices such as echo and reverb effects, which can be blended back into the track. Further down below the AUX section is the ’pan pot’ - a potentiometer is the technical gizmo that a knob is sitting on, and this one is designed to give you a left to right panorama to place your instrument in the stereo mix. So the panoramic potentiometer (pan pot) allows you to place the first violins in your mix on the left, with your violas roughly in the centre, and your cellos on the right. Finally, you see the volume fader, which allows you to make cool wave patterns on the mixing console when you do publicity photos for your studio (or balance the levels of each individual instrument in your mix).

The virtual mixer in your DAW software has many advantages and disadvantages to this arrangement: you only get a channel strip when you create a track, so if you only have four tracks, you only get four channel strips - simple. The disadvantage is fitting all of the features of a channel strip an on a computer monitor. Each different DAW has its own way of dealing with this problem, with buttons to hide the EQ and AUX sections to avoid clutter on the screen. This is one of the reasons most studios use two or three monitors.

The most realistic channel strip in my software DAW selection is in the Reason mixer - it is based on a famous English mixer, and is the most intuitive to work with. Logic, Cubase, ProTools and Studio One have variations on this with their own variations of drop-down menus, or opening/closing sections.

That is definitely enough this time. Next up we’ll talk panning, EQ and effects.

International Women's Day with Making Waves New Music

Today, on International Women's Day, we caught up with Lisa Cheney and Peggy Polias to talk about their bonus playlist, celebrating the incredible female composition talent we have here in Australia.

Here's what they had to say:

"We're so excited to have brought together over 5 hours of music by women composers for International Women's Day 2016. All of the included amazing works in this special playlist derive from our monthly playlist releases, since Making Waves' commencement in January, 2015. As Co-Curators and women composers ourselves, we're very proud to use this opportunity to pay special homage to talented and tenacious women forging their own unique voices around us in the Australian contemporary music world. We're constantly asking ourselves what we can do in our playlists that supports the #PledgeForParity.

I pledge to ...

> help women and girls achieve their ambitions
> challenge conscious and unconscious bias
> call for gender-balanced leadership
> value women and men's contributions equally
> create inclusive, flexible cultures

This playlist is in no way an exhaustive representation of the number of amazing women creating music in Australia. In fact, we feel we’ve barely even scratched the surface! The curation of our content relies heavily on composers submitting their recordings to us via our website. If you know of someone who should be included in this list, male or female, perhaps it's time to give them a gentle nudge of encouragement to get in touch with us at Making Waves! With this in mind we ask that you take the time to get to know the work of a composer below and share this playlist with your friends, students and colleagues.

According to author Rosalind Appleby (2012) in Women of Note: The Rise of Australian Women Composers, Australia has been leading the way in gender balance in composition. “The figures continue to grow: in 2011 the AMC recorded women making up 25 per cent of composers or in real terms 146 of 585 composers are women.” Here at Making Waves we're so excited about the thoughtful and high-quality work we're seeing from so many Australian colleagues, regardless of gender, and we've made it our mission from the beginning of the project to strive not for the "75-25" benchmark, but for gender parity in our curation. We're thrilled to note that this goal of ours aligns with the campaign theme of International Women's Day in 2016: #PledgeForParity."

The Art of Song: A Conversation With Andrea Katz

What was your first experience with live music?

I was born in a musical family. We go back some 5 or 6 generations of string and woodwind players, conductors and impresarios so I was surrounded by music even before I was born. I am the only pianist and I like it, it makes me the black sheep of the family.

Who or what has been a major influence on your music making?

I’ve always loved literature and some great books have punctuated my musical development: Jean-Christophe by Romain Rolland taught me all about Romanticism and French decadence, Decameron by Boccaccio ( a bit naughty at age 14) introduced me to Italian prose, but probably the most relevant was The Glass Bead Game by Hermann Hesse, with its idealistic society ruled by music and chess and its wonderful descriptions of meditations through Bach’s music.

There have been some musicians too!! My piano teacher in Paris Vlado Perlemuter, a great pianist and pedagogue heir to the Schnabel and Cortot traditions and my piano teacher in Israel, Alexander Tamir, who introduced me to the great art of piano duets.

Working with conductors has given me a great insight into the mind of symphonic and operatic composers and working intimately with orchestras has molded my approach to tempi, musical pulse and especially colours and nuances.

When did you become involved in collaborating with singers?

Back in Israel when I was a student I had to play for lessons (singing, viola, flute, conducting) as part of my scholarship with the Rubin Academy in Jerusalem. A friend asked me to play for his audition for the Opera Company in Tel Aviv and I left the theatre with a contract in my pocket!

Obviously there is a difference between working alone and working collaboratively. What do you enjoy about each? Do you have a preference?

I like music in company. I’m not very good when left alone with too much time! So having rehearsals and the responsibility that it entails keeps me ticking and practicing. That said, sometimes I make a commitment to play solo or a concerto with orchestra so I don’t forget what it feels like.

Does your approach change when preparing solo work, compared to ensemble work?

Not really. After so many years working with orchestras I tend to orchestrate every piece of music in my head thus I always play ensemble, even with myself!!

How do you prepare for a performance? Do you have any pre-concert rituals, or does it change depending on the circumstance?

I do believe in visualization so I try to practice with the venue and audience in mind. By the time the concert day arrives it is not too much of a stretch to get to the actual place and perform.

What is the hardest thing about being an associate artist, and how do you deal with that?

It very much depends who you are working with and how much you want/need the concert. The higher the level of performers the fewer problems you have. Once you have built your own reputation it is also possible to say no to engagements you know will be problematic.

With a group like Songmakers Australia the most difficult thing is scheduling rehearsals. I’m very fortunate to have fantastic singers in the ensemble but they are also some of the busiest people in the industry.

What have been some career highlights for you, as a collaborative artist or vocal coach?

I do approach every performance as a highlight. I think it makes you aim higher and higher and also puts you in a frame of mind to have fun as well as play well.

If I have to name a few I’d say my first Winterreise with baritone Jonathan Summers, a fabulous Sydney Symphony fund raiser event with violinist Gill Shaham, a concert version of the Ring Cycle for the Sydney Festival with Elizabeth Connell as Brunhilde.

We are celebrating our fifth year with Songmakers and many of the concerts have been highlights for all of us. To name just a few: The Sound of Silence for Port Fairy Festival, Viola Romance with Brett Dean, Piazzolla The Seasons for Peninsula Festival and many others.

How important is it to connect with the person you are performing with, off stage?

It is not necessary to be friends off stage to perform well together but I’ve developed close friendships with many of the artist I shared performances and many of them endure a long time after the last concert.

If you play well together chances are you think and love similar things.

What advice would you give young pianists who wish to begin accompanying and collaborating?

First of all get some scores and sight read! It is a great skill and even though there are teaching methods to learn it (it is compulsory at the Paris Conservatoire!) there is no better way to do it than to really thrash some Schubert songs in the sanctity of your living room.

Then get yourself some singers and instrumentalists and have a go. Volunteer to play for choral rehearsals, befriend a conductor and even if you cannot play for them ask to sit in rehearsals with your score and get a feel for the different colours of the orchestra.

Read a lot and try to learn a few foreign languages if you are going to work with singers.

Most of all HAVE FUN!!

From the Organ Loft: England, and the Church Music Tradition by Edwin Kwong

In the second instalment of this three part series about the great tradition of European organ music (and by extension, choral and church music, which I place greater emphasis upon in this particular article), we travel to England, home to the wonderful tradition of Anglican music, which is still continued in many Australian Anglican churches today.

English organ and choral music has an extensive history, but perhaps counter to expectation, not all of it was entirely illustrious. One starting point for this brief journey into English organ and choral music is the Tudor period. Whilst the Christian church had been established in England as early as the 2nd century AD, there were no particularly well known English composers for the organ and choir until the Renaissance period. The three large Choirbooks (Eton, Caius, and Lambeth) from early Tudor England, however, document some of the choral works of a few of these criminally under heard and underappreciated composers – such as Peter Philips, Robert Fayrfax, John Browne and Walter Lambe. English choral music mostly suffered from a dearth of quality composers after the Renaissance – perhaps with some notable exceptions such as Henry Purcell and George Frederic Handel (a German!) – until the Romantic and Modern eras, and so was not regarded highly at all for over two centuries.

On the other hand, English organ music and its composers have almost always suffered from a lack of attention, and for the pipe organs themselves, a lack of quality, up until the Romantic and Modern eras as well. After the flourishing of the English Renaissance keyboard composers from the Virginalist School – including William Byrd, Orlando Gibbons, John Bull, and Thomas Tomkins – there were no significant English compositions for the organ for the next 200 years or so. Not only was this due to a lack of composers for the instrument, but also because of the tardiness and hesitance of English organ builders to catch up to contemporary continental organ construction practices, leading to a lack of appropriate quality organs on which to perform complex music. Indeed, many English organs did not have pedalboards until the 18th century, making the performance of many works of the great North German and French Baroque organ schools impossible in England. Without going too much into the historical details of English organ and choral music, it is sufficient to say that there was a period of incredible revival in the late 19th and early 20th centuries courtesy of a great number of fantastic composers, and it is now held in very high regard.

Many of the great English cathedrals and churches are famous worldwide, such as Westminster Abbey, St Paul’s Cathedral, and the chapel of King’s College, Cambridge. I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to visit all three places over December and January, and had the chance to play the great organ at St Paul’s briefly. Similar to Germany, the organs and musical traditions in many English cathedrals, and indeed in these three places in particular, all have an incredible history behind them.

The current organ at St Paul’s Cathedral has been altered many times over the course of the cathedral’s history, from the first organ built by the German organ builder Bernard Smith in 1694, to the current incarnation after the major rebuild by Noel Mander in 1977. Again, the emphasis I wish to place on the significance of these pipe organs, and organ music, is that they are part of an unbroken tradition – a living and flourishing one today! Whilst I was playing the organ at St Paul’s, I used one particular stop on the Great manual which has been preserved from the original Smith organ from 1694 – a wonderful example of this continuing tradition. Indeed, it is this Smith organ that Felix Mendelssohn would have known and played when he visited St Paul’s in 1837. There is an amusing story which was told by a contemporary witness that Mendelssohn played the final pedal solo from Bach’s Prelude and Fugue in A minor (BWV 543) for so long, apparently, that the gentlemen pumping the organ blowers were instructed by the Verger to stop, so that he could go home after Evensong!

A better known example of the English musical tradition is the annual Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols at King’s College, Cambridge. Every year on Christmas Eve, millions of listeners around the world tune in to BBC Radio 4 to hear the broadcast of the service, and hundreds of devoted listeners line up outside the beautiful chapel hours before to ensure that they will be able to attend. Last Christmas Eve, I was able to cross this particular item off my personal bucket list, as I joined hundreds of others in lining up for the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols. The service begins at 3pm, and although I arrived at around 8am, I found myself already one of the last people to be admitted onto the grounds of the college! Upon speaking to others in the line, I soon found out that many had been there since as early as 6am, and some of the most devoted had even camped out in front of the college over night…

The inclement weather on that particular day in Cambridge made the queuing process much more strenuous than usual, but I must say that it was magical when I was finally admitted into the chapel just after 2pm, as the organ scholars began to perform music by Messiaen, Bach, and Karg-Elert. The format of the service has remained unchanged since 1919, and sung services have been a part of the current chapel building since 1536. The Renaissance rood screen in the chapel, which still stands today separating the nave and altar, was erected by Henry VIII in the 1530s and now houses a part of the organ. As the service drew to a close after the first organ voluntary, which was Bach’s In Dulci Jubilo (BWV 729) as is the custom, one of the organ scholars began to play the second organ voluntary, ‘Sortie on In Dulci Jubilo’ by David Briggs, a former organ scholar himself at King’s and now a renowned composer and concert organist. In the 500th year since the completion of the chapel, it seemed apt to me that the service finished with a composition from a former King’s student.

To the average person, sometimes classical music can appear a little too esoteric or unapproachable. But occasionally, a piece of classical music will break through this barrier and enter public cultural awareness. The Hallelujah Chorus from Handel’s The Messiah is certainly one such piece of music, and I had the great pleasure of watching and hearing the Westminster Abbey Choir perform this in the Abbey. To be able to hear the Messiah in full from one of the world’s finest choirs, in the place where Handel is buried, was a truly mesmerising experience. However, to bring your attention back to the organ, I was able to attend an organ recital by Matthew Jorysz, the then-organ scholar of the Abbey and current assistant organist, on the last Sunday of December. For the Abbey nave to be packed with people intent on hearing a recital of organ music on a cold English night was nothing short of impressive. It certainly caused me to reflect upon the status granted to not just organ music, but perhaps music in general in English churches and society, compared to a rather different status quo in Australia. Whilst it certainly helped that the recital took place in such a famous venue, I noticed that many people that night were there purely for the organ music.

We have a long way to go yet in this country in terms of reviving the position of organ music within the classical music realm, and restoring the consciousness of the public about organ music. But I’m confident that we will get there – it seems to me a logical conclusion that such a grand and versatile instrument could certainly not go unnoticed for too long!

Postcard from Chicago by Joshua Dema

Boarding the plane on September 1st 2015 was one of the most intense experiences of my life. The long flight ahead would be the bridge between life as I knew it and the unknown. I had mixed emotions; I felt a crushing sadness after saying the final goodbyes to my friends and family, and I was nervous to leave my comfort zone. But I also felt great excitement about the prospect of moving overseas to study a Masters of Music at the DePaul University School of Music in Chicago.

Moving overseas to study is, I think, an extremely personal journey for each person. Although I don’t intend for this to be a step-by-step guide, I hope my experiences can shed some light on studying overseas.

During my undergraduate studies at the Melbourne Conservatorium I developed the desire to travel overseas to further my music education. Studying overseas always seemed like the greener pasture of a tertiary music education; although I loved studying in Melbourne, there are many more orchestras and summer music festival opportunities in America, and the schools here have some of the most world-renowned teachers on faculty. In addition, I was lucky enough to participate in the MIMIR chamber music festival twice in Melbourne, and once in Texas. These experiences helped me to connect with teachers from America. After having lessons with these teachers and talking to them about my further education, I realised it was possible for me to undertake a Masters overseas.

So, now that I had a goal to study overseas it was time to pursue it! Applying for a Masters overseas is like having a part time job. Seriously. There’s the stress over learning audition repertoire, making pre-screening tapes, taking auditions, and preparing transcripts. In addition, you have to figure out how to live overseas too. The amount of paperwork, online forms, and trips to the American embassy I had to complete was time consuming and stressful. Sometimes I wanted to give up, and continue in my comfortable lifestyle that I had maintained over my undergraduate, but something kept me going.

When I went overseas to audition, I was able to get a “feel” for all the different schools. Each school that I visited had a slightly different musical focus. In addition, every teacher is different. For those who are seeking a new music school, finding the right private teacher is the most important thing. You will spend hours with them one-on-one, and you have to feel confident that you will be able to learn from them. During my audition trip, I had lessons with all the teachers from the schools I was auditioning for, and I was able to figure out which school and teacher was best suited to me. I began to have a good idea of which schools I wanted to go to the most.

So after I completed my application and auditions, and nervously waited for two months, I finally found out I was accepted into almost all of the schools I applied for. At this point I was confident that moving was the right choice to make, even though I knew it would be difficult leaving home. I’m happy to say that after five months of living here, Chicago has become my second favourite city in the world (next to Melbourne of course!). Although I am currently battling through sub-zero temperatures, I am finding Chicago to be a fascinating and exciting place to be. The classical music scene is enormous and thriving; I have access to a world class Symphony, and the chamber music here is incredible too. I’ve met some great musicians and been able to show some old friends around a new city!

Studying a Masters in music is challenging in ways I didn’t expect. Initially I thought that it would just be an extension of undergraduate, but it’s so different. In some ways I’m more dedicated to school here, because for the first time I feel like I really chose to do this. In addition, the Masters academic coursework has made me realise how important music theory and academia is in creating a successful and well-rounded musician.

However, I’ve learnt the most about my cello playing and chamber music skills. When I moved I thought that my musical creativity would magically increase as my technical capabilities improved, and I would finish my Masters ready to “be a musician”. I was wrong. I now know that success doesn’t “automatically” happen. Even if you are at the best school in the world with the best teacher, everything is a choice; my success will come from my constant desire to pursue knowledge and excellence.

I’d like to quote an address given by Joyce Didonato at the Juilliard School, as I think it accurately summarises some of the realisations that I have had.

“Commit to the JOURNEY, and not to the outcome. The outcome will almost always fall short of your expectations, and if you’re chasing that elusive, often deceptive goal, you’re likely in for a very tough road. THIS is the glory and the reward of striving to master your craft and embarking on the path of curiosity and imagination, while being tireless in your pursuit of something greater than yourself.”

So ultimately, my choice to study Masters in Chicago is just one step in a greater journey. While it’s only one step, I have learnt more in six months about myself and music than I could have ever imagined. If you see a study trip overseas as part of your journey in music, my advice is to research as much as you can to find the right school for you, talk to your teachers and colleagues who may have done it before you, and then if you’re absolutely set on it, don’t let anyone stop you from going for it!

Demystifying Music Technology: The Virtual Ensemble Part II by Christopher Steller

As I continue researching various aspects of the modern composer's tool kit, knowing the budgetary restraints of early adopters of the technology, I thought I might take a closer look at the basic software DAWs (digital audio workstations) and their bundled sounds. The main contenders in this area are Cubase, Logic, Pro Tools, the less seen Performer, and the more recently popular Studio One. If you are looking at Ableton Live or Bitwig Studio as more traditional compositional platforms, then you're in the wrong place - these are both designed to trigger and beat-match audio loops, and if you don't use them for that purpose, then you are wasting their main features.

All of the DAWs mentioned above come bundled with plug-ins, many of which are designed to produce usable sounds, whether in the form of synthesised tones or as samples taken from real instruments. We are more interested in these sample playing devices, for the sole purpose of emulating the instruments required in our compositions, so these are the target for this piece.

Steinberg's Cubase is bundled with Halion Sonic SE, which is a cut-down version (3GB of samples) of the full VST plug-in. It has a comprehensive selection of sounds, like all of these bundles, not really specialising in any one genre. The selection of orchestral sounds is adequate, but the solo instruments need some extra processing to get some realism out of them. You may need to consider updating to the full version to have a better selection available.

Apple's Logic (which uses the Audio Unit plug-in format) is bundled with a sampler called EXS24, which has quite a good selection of usable sounds, and a good number of free downloadable instruments, as well.

Avid's Pro Tools (which uses the AAX format) uses Xpand2 as it's main offering, but also has the Structure Free sampler. This basic sound set doesn't allow for too much quality in the small ensemble area, being slightly better for emulating larger groups. The full version, Structure 2 features 37GB of samples and is USD$150. Pro Tools has an excellent grand piano plug-in, well worth a play.

Presonus Studio One (which can host both VST and Audio Unit plug-ins) is bundled with Presence XT, and the Professional version has 14GB of sounds. I have had some very pleasing results with the orchestral sounds here.

If you decide to go down the path of building your own sample library, here are some interesting links to consider. The first suggestion would be to download the free Native Instruments Kontakt Player Free - this allows you to purchase any instrument sets from their library to suit your needs.

http://www.native-instruments.com/en/products/?search=allkontakt

These next two packages are a great (and economical) way to get started:

http://www.uvi.net/en/orchestral-composer/orchestral-suite.html

http://www.uvi.net/en/orchestral-composer/plugsound-pro.html

From the Organ Loft: Germany, and the Importance of Bach by Edwin Kwong

Welcome to From the Organ Loft!

I will be penning an article monthly for this brand spanking new column - I hope to demystify some preconceived notions that you may have about the pipe organ, whilst also educating you about this incredible instrument that I love, and perhaps letting you all in on some tricks of the trade!

Each article will take a different shape - over the next 3 months, I’d like to show you the incredible history and the flourishing tradition of European organ music in Germany, England, and France.

During my travels around Europe over December and January, I had the chance to visit Germany, and for a week I travelled to the four cities of Leipzig, Eisenach, Freiberg, and Dresden.

Leipzig is a city with a long history of musical connections. It is where Johann Sebastian Bach worked for the last 27 years of his life, where Richard Wagner was born, where Felix Mendelssohn established the first music conservatory in Germany, and where Gustav Mahler worked for 2 years. Whilst Wagner, Mendelssohn, and Mahler are all veritable giants of the classical music world, they are all perhaps more closely linked to other places (Bayreuth, Britain, Vienna). But Bach stands alone in his contribution to musical life in Leipzig, and in his unique association with the city.

Whilst Bach needs no introduction, perhaps his organ music might. The typical musician will no doubt be familiar with works like the Well Tempered Clavier, or the St Matthew and St John Passions (premiered at the Leipzig churches of St Thomas and St. Nicholas respectively). But his organ music is largely only familiar to organists and organ aficionados, which is a real shame because one cannot attain a complete grasp of Bach as a composer, nor as a person, without knowing close to what amounted to almost one-fifth of his entire musical output.

So it was fortunate that I was able to attend a concert at St Thomas on the very first night that I was in Leipzig, presented by Daniel Beilschmidt (organist at the University Church of Leipzig) and his ensemble Capella St. Pauli. Musically, Leipzig is quite a conservative town – the denizens of the city enjoy, expect, and are used to Bach, Buxtehude, Schütz and their contemporaries; hence this concert was a particular curiosity to me as the program was a mixture of quite modern organ/vocal improvisations, and Renaissance and Baroque vocal and instrumental music from around Europe, as well as Peru! It was a most refreshing and interesting concert. As I am friends with Stefan Kießling, the assistant organist at St Thomas whom I stayed with in my time in Leipzig, he very kindly allowed me to play on the two organs of the church after the concert: the Bach organ (built in 2000, in the style of North German Baroque organs), and the Sauer organ (built in 1888, a fine example of German romantic organ building by the famous firm of Wilhelm Sauer). Naturally, since I was at ‘Bach’s church’, I had to play Bach – it was a dream come true! And complete the experience, all of the musicians from the concert, Stefan and myself all went to the pub next to St Thomas for a beer (or three) afterwards, of course!

Over the course of the next few days, I attended two more organ concerts – the first at the Hochschule für Musik und Theater (founded by Mendelssohn) featuring organ students studying church music, and the second at the Peterskirche with local organist Konstantin Heydenreich. Whilst perhaps in Australia, the music of Bach may feel a little disconnected from our daily lives, in Leipzig it is a unbroken continuing tradition, and it was evident by the centre stage that both his music and his influence on music took in both of these concerts.

And so, in a kind of pilgrimage and to further understand who Bach was not just as a musician, but also as a person, I went on a day trip to Eisenach, the birthplace of Bach, where I visited the Bachhaus – located only minutes away from where Bach’s childhood home would have stood, as well as the Church of St George, where Bach was baptised. Through the thoroughly informative exhibits at the Bachhaus one can get a glimpse into what might have shaped Bach as a person. To me, it comes down to his unshakeable Christian faith (as evident by the phrase Soli Deo Gloria – to the glory of God alone – which he wrote under his manuscripts), and the incredible suffering he endured during his life (orphaned at the age of 10, the sudden death of his first wife, and the deaths of many of his children as infants).

During the weekend of December 12th and 13th, I visited Freiberg and Dresden where I assisted Stefan Kießling at the organ console for his concerts at the two cities. The great organ at the Mariendom in Freiberg was built by the renowned organ builder Gottfried Silbermann in 1714, who was a contemporary and colleague of Bach. Whilst there is no record that Bach played on this organ, there is no doubt that Bach played and tested many of Silbermann’s other organs, and was extremely familiar with them. The remarkable thing about this particular instrument is that in the 302 years since it was built, it has not been significantly altered, and remains mostly in its original condition. And so to hear Stefan, who is in a way a successor of Bach, perform his music on an organ similar to those he might have played, was a revelation.

The organ music of Bach is incredibly significant for organists and musicians alike, for both stylistic and educational reasons. Thus, to hear it performed by musicians in the tradition of Bach, in the city where he lived and worked, was a marvellous thing.

At the Bach revival concert which Felix Mendelssohn gave at the age of just 20, at St Thomas, Leipzig, on August 6th, 1840, he performed a chorale prelude from the collection known as the ‘Leipzig’ Great Eighteen Chorale Preludes, named for the fact that they were written in Leipzig between the years 1741-1750. This chorale prelude, on the hymn “Schmücke dich, o liebe Seele”, or “Adorn yourself, O dear soul” is incredibly moving, and prompted Mendelssohn to confess that, if life were ever to deprive him of faith or hope, this one work would restore both. Robert Schumann, after hearing Mendelssohn’s performance of it also praised it highly: “as priceless, deep and full of soul as any piece of music that ever sprung from a true artist’s imagination”. I could wax lyrical about the incredible ingenuity of Bach’s music, especially his organ music, but I do think Mendelssohn and Schumann both say it much better than I ever can – so I’ll leave you with those to ponder.

Postcard from British Columbia by James Robert Littlewood

A lot has changed in the last five months. I have made new friends, made music with a lot of different people, discovered new musical interests, and have become much more motivated. Perhaps the only thing that hasn’t changed is that I am just as vulnerable as I was when I left the airport in August; I was terrified. I had no idea what my semester abroad would entail, and I knew no one. What I discovered during my studies at The University of British Columbia, with the help of my conducting professor, is that it’s okay to be vulnerable. In fact, it’s better than okay – it is essential to music making.

Music is a universal language used by humanity to connect with one another and our identities. What I learned by taking my conducting fundamentals class is that in order for a conductor to communicate effectively with an orchestra, they must be vulnerable to emotions and ideas to create a genuine musical expression. Upon this new discovery for me, I realised that I could apply this concept to my trombone playing, and even the way I relate to people. Until that moment, I couldn’t understand why music was so important to me. When people ask why I have pursued music this far, I now tell them that it allows me to be a part of a dialogue whilst putting myself completely on the line, which is a remarkable feeling.

During my semester in Canada I realised that it was this feeling that I had been missing – not only in my music making, but also in life in general – and I began to chase it. I’ll never forget the rush of learning to ski at Whistler Mountain, canoeing on the beautiful green and blue lakes in Alberta, the beautiful trails I hiked, performing for and working with a brand new set of colleagues, and removing myself from my comfort zone and meeting many people. I took calculated risks and put myself out there, making my exchange experience something incredible.

I feel like I stumbled into this semester abroad by accident. There was no profound reason why I chose to go to UBC to study. All I knew is that I wanted to study in North America and it seemed like UBC was the best option out of what was presented to me. Perhaps foolishly, I didn’t do a lot of research into who I would be studying with. But this was definitely a happy accident – the professors I had were some of the most inspiring and encouraging teachers I have had. I also had no idea that the School of Music had a thriving low brass community, full of fantastic individuals whose enthusiasm for music was contagious. It is sad to leave such a wonderful group of musicians, but it is great to have musical connections across the globe and I have no doubt that I will be back in Canada soon.

A lot can change in five months. I left home wanting to “live deliberately” (as Henry Thoreau put it), and I did. Although this is just one anecdote of someone’s time abroad, I hope it encourages any music student who was hesitant to go on exchange to seize the opportunity. I will admit, it is not easy to take step out of one’s bubble – but as a musician it is a good thing to take risks and be vulnerable.

Demystifying Music Technology: The Virtual Ensemble by Christopher Steller

I recently read the article about composer Danny Elfman, linked from the Rehearsal Magazine website, and his approach to writing ’scary music’, and it prompted me to delve into the composing methods of some of the best known film score composers. It's a big step from where we might be as students of composition, but it gives us the opportunity to explore possible directions for the future.

In my first article I wrote about the concept of using your computer to realise your compositions: in this situation I'm referring to the ability to hear an approximation of your piece in a realistic context, using instrument samples.

Notation programs, Sibelius, Notion and Finale, are fantastic for visualising your scores in a presentable way, and these packages also come bundled with a library of instrument sounds sampled from various sources. When you've written several parts and selected appropriate sounds to hear them played back, you might begin to understand why the more prominent film composers use a professional digital audio workstation (DAW), such as Cubase, Logic, ProTools, etc to build their compositions, rather than a scoring program, as these tend to play the parts literally, rather than interpret as a musician would. The quality of the results also relies heavily on the choice of sample libraries they use.

When you start to listen and evaluate a library of sounds that has been bundled with a DAW, you'll choose favourite sounds that work immediately for you and usually discard the rest as soon as you can find better alternatives.

In 2015, one of my students (learning to use Steinberg Cubase), decided he wanted to turn a number of his piano compositions into a recording, which became an extended project for his learning path. He and I discussed the pieces he would work with, and decided to expand some of the pieces into arrangements with accompanying instruments such as cello, oboe, French horn, and some violin and viola, with an occasional tympani build.

I've worked with tracks in the past using string ensemble emulations, but never such an intimate ensemble, so it was quite a learning experience for me to hear the quality and realism (or lack thereof) of these sampled solo instruments. After many hours of auditioning sounds from my various hard drives, the majority of the arrangements were completed using instruments from my Plugsound Pro collection, created by a French company, UVI. Not up to the quality of some of the much more expensive libraries used by the professional film composers, but pleasing to the ear when used carefully.

Taking my research further, I visited quite a few websites of the ’big name’ orchestral sample libraries, and was amazed with what is now available. I'll leave the browsing to you, but here are a few Google references: Vienna Symphonic Library, Garritan, Spitfire Audio, Miroslav Vitous. I've also included some links at the end of the article. Many of the developers use Native Instruments Kontakt player plug-in as a playback device for their libraries, so they will be compatible with the major DAWs.

In researching Danny Elfman, his scoring credits include Alice in Wonderland, Batman, Batman Returns, Dark Shadows, Dick Tracy, Edward Scissorhands, Hulk, Men in Black, Planet of the Apes, Spider-Man, Mars Attacks, and Mission Impossible, as well as TV themes including the Simpsons and Desparate Housewives.

To realise his scores, Danny’s main sequencing machine is a Mac Pro computer running MOTUs Digital Performer DAW software. There are two slave PCs (Windows 7) each running Vienna Ensemble PRO as a host. All audio outputs of the PCs are routed via MADI to another Mac running Pro Tools. The majority of his orchestral library sounds are Vienna Instruments Collections with the Vienna Instruments PRO player. His assistant created some custom patches for a Lemur tablet that control some of Danny’s Vienna Instruments. Using the Lemur, Danny switches between different articulations, fades between vibrato/non vibrato patches, velocity crossfades and more.

Taking the whole virtual orchestra to its extremes, composer, Hans Zimmer, decided to get exactly what he wanted in a sample library by hiring the LSO, and directing them to play what he wanted to record. If you don't know Hans Zimmer's work, his credits are probably thrice the number of Danny Elfman's. Hans uses a system based on Steinberg's Cubase DAW software, with a customised sample player for his library, and a touch screen controller for adding performance gestures and other nuances.

If the technology route is not for you, fear not, as you can still use manuscript and an orchestra, the way John Williams does.

My next research project will be Australian composer, David Hirschfelder, and if we’re lucky I can get some thoughts from David on his approach to scoring for film.

Links to some interesting reading and references:

http://www.keyboardmag.com/gear/1183/orchestral-sounds-roundup/48460

https://vsl.co.at/en/News/Artists

http://www.garritan.com/

http://www.ikmultimedia.com/products/philharmonik2/

Summer Goal Setting with Susan de Weger

With the summer break stretching ahead, there’s no better time to refine your goals for 2016 and beyond.

Goals are the driving force behind your music career. Fortunately, musicians are familiar with the power of setting and achieving goals and have the physical and mental stamina to maintain focus over a long period of time. This mindset is what drives your technical and artistic development. You can experience that same amount of improvement in your career using defined goals, commitment and accountability.

Before we dive into defining achievable goals, take a step back and evaluate whose goal is this? Don’t be swayed by what is considered the top of the profession, listen to your inner voice. Does this goal represent your values? Values are the principles that you live your life by. They are the essence of who you are. The more you align your goals with your values, the more you will be motivated to work towards your goal. Does this goal use my talents and strengths? Think beyond your musical ability to skills that apply across the working world.

Be honest as you answer these questions, the only way to develop goals that are achievable and rewarding is to understand who you are and what is of value to you.

‘If you don’t know where you are going, you’ll end up someplace else’ - Yogi Berra, Legendary Baseball Player, Manager and Coach

DEFINE

Try this exercise in defining and refining your goals. Grab a pen and paper and write down five things you would like to accomplish in your performing arts career.

Next, rank them in priority.

Then cross off everything except the number one goal.

Now refine your goal into a clearly defined vision using the SMART goal process.

Specific What specifically do I want to accomplish?
Measurable How will I know when I reach my goal?
Attainable Is is it possible for me to reach this goal?
Realistic How realistic is this goal in the context of my life?
Time In what period of time will I accomplish the goal?

Here is a non-SMART goal “I will play in concert class more often” and here is the SMART version “I will memorise the Italian Concerto by J.S. Bach and perform in concert class on 01/05/16”

Specific This goal is focused on a specific piece of music.
Measurable You have achieved this goal when you have learned and memorised the piece.
Attainable It is attainable as long as you think that you can do it, this is a subjective test.
Realistic Given your life context, is this goal realistic.
Time You have set a time period of 4 months.

Now rewrite your number one goal using the SMART method:

COMMIT

Make a list of specific actions that you could pursue, starting today, towards that goal.
How about sourcing the sheet music and a reference recording for the piece, both easily done from the air conditioned comfort of your sofa.

Next make a list of potential challenges, identifying internal and external obstacles. ‘The music might not be available’ or ‘I’m not very good at memorising”. Simply writing down these perceived barriers will start you clarifying those which could be genuine challenges vs those which are convenient excuses. You’ll be surprised to see how many ways you can brainstorm to overcome potential challenges. Having the confidence to conceive solutions is the key to problem solving.

BE ACCOUNTABLE

A study undertaken by Dr. Gail Matthews at the Dominican University of California confirms that that a whopping 70% of participants who sent weekly updates to a friend reported successful goal achievement. You can read a short article on the study here which also contains a link to the research summary, it’s fascinating.

One of the secrets to staying on track is to team up with someone who supports and encourages you as you pursue your dreams. It’s important to remember that you can be a valuable support to your peers and colleagues in the same way, and helping others will support your self-esteem, psychological well-being and social connectedness.

Identify someone who is also pursuing a goal, even if it’s not in the same industry. Set regular meetings with your accountability partner and allow each other 15 to 20 minutes to share the progress you’ve made with your goals and the challenges you are facing.

GET BUSY NOW

5 Minutes Think about whether your number one goal is really YOUR goal?
30 Minutes Rewrite that number one goal and nail the SMART process.
1 Hour Identify an accountability partner, call them and set up a coffee date in the next
14 days Follow up with an email sharing in detail, a goal that you are working towards.

In Conversation: Making Waves

In the past 10 years, the internet has created a dramatic change in the way we approach music making. It has revolutionised the way we work, build scores and record performances, the way we publicise ourselves and our work, and perhaps most dramatically the way we listen. At the beginning of 2015, Peggy Polias and Lisa Cheney, both experienced composers in their own right, joined forces to create the new music website Making Waves - to play upon the potential for expansive listening that the internet offers us. Seeing the importance of getting new compositions heard, but without a platform to do so, Polias and Cheney set about creating a way to expose developing and established composers’ work, in a way that removes the stuffiness of a concert hall and prioritises the ease of listening and availability of music. Therefore, Making Waves functions to support both sides of the musical equation - the composer and the performer, and the listener: each now with a new place to discover or contribute.

The internet, according to the duo, is an invaluable resource for young composers in particular - in part due to the strong and active presence held by the Australian classical music community on social media platforms and forums. After university, with the absence of enforced masterclasses and time for workshopping, the internet becomes a hub for idea sharing and creativity. Having your music listened to and commented on online offers some of the camaraderie left behind at the conclusion of a degree - giving composers a space to trial ideas and share new work. Listening and “curating” online also creates a well needed space away from the constraints of a concert hall. Rather than fitting ideas into a particular set of requirements - type of performance space, instruments available, etc. - online listening platforms like Making Waves work to fit individual composers, with no boundary to creativity. If the sound can be created, it can be heard. They do all the heavy lifting that usually surrounds a traditional concert - promotion, curation and publication, fitting each composers’ unique voice into a playlist full of contrasting and complimentary sounds - perfect for composers looking to explore their peers’ work, and an accessible platform of discovery for interested listeners.

Making Waves is advocating for Australian composers and listeners, choosing composers young or old, experienced or developing, all of whom can submit one or two of their songs to be included in an appropriate playlist. Listeners can expect a curated mix of music, specifically arranged by thematic material or instrumentation. Engagement of listeners and composers is extremely important for Polias and Cheney, who believe that the best way to develop ideas and explore new sounds as a composer is to receive feedback from the listeners. This system is advantageous as it offers composers the opportunity to watch their listeners interact with the music.

Demystifying Music Technology: The Other Bits Of Recording by Christopher Steller

In the previous article I talked about the various types of recording equipment, from hand-held portable recorders to laptops with an audio interface of some sort. The hand-held recorders have built-in microphones, which is tremendously convenient for the user, but when we are using a laptop with an audio interface, a microphone is an integral part of recording acoustic instruments or voice. And so, we venture into microphones and their use.

There are many different microphones available, purpose-built for different jobs, and ranging from several hundred to many thousands of dollars. When you are looking to buy (doing your on-line research, of course), certain types become apparent, but they can be broken up into several groups. Every microphone is described by type and use - for example, a dynamic or condenser microphone with a particular type of polar pattern. A dynamic microphone is best described as durable and reliable - great for the rigours of live performance, or in a situation where very high volume levels are involved, such as recording a trumpet or a bass drum. They are often held by a singer, giving them something to do with their hands, or mounted on a stand for instrument mic’ing. The type of microphone you might see a rock band singer swinging around his head onstage, while the sound engineer freaks out completely at the back of the auditorium. The industry standard for this type of microphone has been the SM58 by Shure (since the 1960s)- by no means the only dynamic microphone available, but definitely a popular choice.

If you are in a more controlled environment with the intention of recording your performance, such as a studio or rehearsal room, your choice of microphone may be very different. Condenser microphones are more sensitive, with delicate components, and require power to run them. This power comes from the audio interface or mixer that the microphone is plugged into, and is supplied through a standard microphone cable (with 3-pin XLR plugs at both ends). If you look more closely at the audio interface when you plug the microphone in, you will see a small switch next to the socket labelled ’48V’ or ’phantom power’. When this is switched on, the unit will supply power to the condenser microphone through the cable. These microphones are usually held by a shock-mount, to prevent handling noise.

I mentioned earlier that each microphone has a polar pattern, which is best described as the area around the diaphragm (the recording element of the microphone) that it will hear. Some microphones are designed to hear both in front and behind them, some in a 360 degree field around them, others just what’s in front of them, all by how their polar pattern is designed. The cardioid pattern allows the microphone to hear what is directly in front of it, and not hear anything behind it. In the case of the standard dynamic mic, the best way to record is straight into the top. With a condenser in a shock mount, the diaphragm is pointing towards the side of the microphone (called side address), so you should be pointing towards the brand logo on the side for ’best hearing’.

For recording acoustic instruments, the pencil condenser microphone allows you to target the ’sweet spot’ of the instrument, if you want more emphasis on the body of a cello or the plucking of a guitar’s strings. For the purpose of recording in stereo (we have two ears, after all), these microphones are offered as matched pairs to give a realistic stereo feel to a recording.

I've jumped around quite a bit in this short article, attempting to cover various aspects of microphone technology and technique, so if you encounter specific issues with your recording work, drop me a line via the Mentor page and I'll help where possible. There are numerous resources available via the Internet for microphone placement techniques, probably far too many, in fact.

For the string players among you, here’s an interesting article to give you some idea of what’s involved: http://www.soundonsound.com/sos/apr99/articles/recstrings.htm Images used are from manufacturer's websites

In Conversation: Patrick Togher

As a young singer, at what point in your career should you be looking into exterior management?

A young singer should secure management as early as possible – any manager is better than no manager. Don’t be discouraged – mangers/agents are notoriously picky about adding artists to their rosters. Occasionally, an artist forms a loose association with a manager which then turns into full representation.

DO NOT make the mistake of thinking self-management will save you money. It won’t. Any artist who (voluntarily) manages himself has a fool for a client.

As a singer yourself, what attracted you to the role you now play as an artist manager?

I was invariably fascinated by off-stage machinations to the point where I actually preferred ‘covering’ roles to singing roles. Most unusual for an artist to say that, I know.

What are the key skills needed, for a young person interested in pursuing a career in artistic management?

Workaholism and shamelessness.

You should be a good talker and you should love artists. If you are currently an artist, make sure that performing is ‘out of your system’ before stepping into the world of artist management. Your role is to make others shine.

How has your background in professional operatic work helped, or perhaps changed your understanding of what your artists need?

It has been highly beneficial – but not essential. Understanding the emotional vagaries which attach themselves to a) the process of performing; and b) surviving as a performer in this fraught industry has been of help to me as a manager and to my artists as clients. However, I do think a love of the art form and a determination to champion the cause of the working artist are more important qualities for a career in artist management.

What skills are most necessary to develop on graduating from a university degree in singing?

Real-world performance skills. A singer will learn an immense amount from each performing experience – large or small. This is why folks like me have toiled to preserve the ongoing availability of performance opportunities for Australian artists.

How can we equip young singers to better manage themselves?

Should a young singer fail to secure representation, he/she should:

try to form an association with an artist manager in the hope of future representation
spend their money wisely
pursue appropriate performance opportunities
try to ‘enjoy’ every musical experience rather than fret too much about the future
explore avenues for the procurement of a foreign working Visa e.g. through patriality etc.
talk to other singers…but be discreet. NEVER disclose to another artist any terms or conditions which have been negotiated for you.
How important is the early development of business skills, not only for singers, but for all musicians?

Important. If sensible financial habits do not come easily to you, then attach yourself to someone who has the right instincts – parent, partner etc.

What would your advice be to singers putting together an audition package? What do you look for in your clients?

What I think of an artist’s abilities is less important than what those who write the cheques think. First question I have always asked myself over the past 17 years – “will Moffatt/Simone/Hickox/Lyndon hire this artist?”

Always sing your party pieces – don’t ‘try things out’ in audition. Have 3 brilliantly polished arias. Choose arias from roles which you are ready to sing. Create the character when you audition but neither overact nor move around too much. Stillness can be the most dramatic of moves.

Oh…and anything you can snare of yourself on video…do so.

What sets apart a good biography and a mediocre one, for any instrumentalist or singer?

Look at my website – all our bios are written in a house style. Interestingly perhaps, I use Wikipedia as a source for spellings of foreign works, capitalization etc. etc. E.G. Die tote Stadt and Le nozze di Figaro do not look right – but they are.

What can young musicians do to improve their own biography writing?

Create a template and follow it. Limit your prose bio to one A4 page.

Recording and Releasing Your Music by Leah Blankendaal

t’s been five years since Syzygy Ensemble began making music together. During this time they have become well-known supporters and champions of new Australian music. They’ve developed close relationships with composers such as Brenton Broadstock and Gordon Kerry. The dynamism and the strength of their artistic vision has been praised and recognized over again.

Now, at what seems like the natural time in their creative process, Syzygy are releasing their debut album. Called Making Signs, it is both a symbol of the group’s creative journey to this point, and a product that they can look forward with. Syzygy flutist Laila Engle and I recently sat down together to discuss why releasing an album was important for the group at this stage, and what steps were involved in the process.

Planning First

“It was really important for us at this point, after five years together and numerous broadcasts on radio, to have something that we owned and that we could use to share our work,” says Laila. This gave the group a sense of direction about what it was they wanted to say, and whom they would ask to write works for. “In any endeavor like this it’s important to ask yourself what you want to say and why pick this music,” she says.

Funding

Once a clear creative plan has been created, the next step is to find the funding for such a project. A combination of private philanthropy, prize and grant money has provided Syzygy with the ability to make this album. “Gordon Kerry’s piece was commissioned by Julian Burnside, facilitated through Creative Partnerships,” says Laila. Conversely, Brenton’s piece was the result of the Albert Maggs Prize for competition, whilst Creative Victoria supported the recording of the album. The trick to securing this funding came through the artistic planning. By having a clear idea of what the project was trying to achieve, Syzygy were able to target grants that suited their needs and skill sets.

Recording Process

The recording process is one of the most costly parts of releasing an album is the recording studio. For art music in particular, costs can blow out when specific instrumentation is required. “One of the criteria we needed was an excellent piano. We went with a pretty new place called Ginger, run by Jim Wyatt. It’s a small space, and he has a great instrument that we were able to use. We actually became aware of that space through young composer Luke Hutton asked us to do a session there to record one of his pieces.”

Editing and Mastering

Following the recording comes postproduction. “The mastering and editing process really depends on how involved you want to be. Because we’re an artist run group we wanted to have a lot of input, and to involve the composers. Because of this though it really blew out on the timeline! So that was certainly a learning curve,” she says. “Next time we would allow more time to go back and forth with feedback. Fortunately we had access to very high quality engineers.”

Printing and licensing

Before printing the album, all recording artists need to submit their program to Australian Performing Rights Association (APRA). “In Australian recording artists have to pay a licensing fee. You submit a license to APRA so that the composers get paid,” she says. “Once this is submitted APRA generate a quote for the license of the music.” With printing also comes artwork. “We went with an image painted by Brett Dean’s wife Heather Betts, who is a very high profile artist. It was particularly generous of her to let us use that image and it was consistent with what we wanted project – high quality Australian art.”

Launch and sales

Syzygy have chosen to launch this album independently. This means that CDs are available only directly through the ensemble. Currently, it is not available for digital download. The reason for this ties in with the ensemble’s love of live performance. “A launch is important because it generates excitement. Most CDs of this nature will be sold at concerts. Our relationship with our live audience is important to us, so by having a launch and allowing our audience first access to the recording we respect that relationship.”

Australian Women in Composition by Leah Blankendaal

There has been a considerable trend recently to engage women in art music composition. In 2016 the University of Sydney will commence their National Women Composers’ Development Program. Similarly, Musica Viva launched The Hildegard Project earlier this year.

Professional development programs such as these are important for addressing the representation of women at elite levels of art music composition. Another way this discrepancy may be addressed is by giving young composers – men and women – access to the wealth of strong female role models who are currently working within the industry. With this in mind, here are four remarkable women making waves in Australian art music, offering their advice to those about to embark on the composition pathway.

Alice Humphries

Alice graduated from the West Australian Academy of Performing Arts with a Bachelor of Performing Arts (Honours) in Jazz Competition in 2008. She has recently submitted her Masters in Composition at the University of Melbourne. Recently she’s been working on learning electronics through music. “Working on scores has been great, but I do miss the immediate creative satisfaction of jazz,” she says.

In offering advice to young composers, she has a clear message. “Just keep writing!” says Alice. “And finish things. For instance, just the thought of putting together my own band and doing a gig was terrifying, because you continually have that thought that says ‘I’m not good enough’. You’re never going to be ready, you’re never going to be good enough…if you’re waiting for this moment where you decide ‘now I’m ready to put on a gig, to apply for that grant, to do that program’ the moment will actually never come. You’ve got to just do it anyway.”

Katy Abbott

Katy a prolific and accomplished composer. She lectures in composition at the University of Melbourne and has had works performed by Halcyon, The Song Company, The Adelaide Symphony Orchestra and The Melbourne Symphony Orchestra. Her body of work includes orchestral, chamber and vocal music. In offering advice to young composers, Katy says the same thing. “Be reliable. Plug away. Don’t rush (your music or your career), take and make opportunities – there are some incredible professional development programs currently out there.” She is particularly passionate about finding an audience for new music.

“I can almost draw a timeline tracking how my commissions / opportunities have emerged through connections around the piece I have been currently working on,” she says. “For example, I was working with Adelaide Symphony Orchestra in 2009 when Mark Gaydon, who is Principal bassoon, asked me to write a solo bassoon work which ended as an amazingly fruitful collaboration…For me this demonstrates the power of connections. I make a point about being easy to work with and spending time making sure the music is right ready for rehearsal.”

Jessica Wells

Jessica is a Sydney based composer and arranger. She was recently involved in the Victorian Opera’s Seven Deadly Sins, a composers’ development project, run in collaboration with cabaret singer Meow Meow, Orchestra Victoria, Symphony Australia and the Tasmanian Symphony Orchestra. She also runs Jigsaw music; an orchestration and arrangement business that works with film companies to score prepare film scores.

Jessica stresses the importance of having high quality work samples and a portfolio that represents what you can do. “I get maybe two or three emails a month from people asking to work for me and it’s hard, because there are a lot of talented people out there and you can’t hire everyone,” she says. “One mistake I see regularly is poor work samples…simple things like formatting in [notation software] Sibelius. At the end of the day, you need to stand out, so it’s about the quality of your work. You’ve got to compete and you’ve got to strive reach those high levels.”

Anisha Thomas

Anisha graduated from Sydney University in 2014 with a Bachelor of Music (Hons) in Composition. She completed her Honours study with Sandy Evans, during which time she explored the confluence of Hindustani and Western art music traditions. Recently she collaborated with a South Indian dancer on her piece Nayika, which explored the cultural expectations of a woman in marriage. Anisha stresses the importance for young composers to make their own musical opportunities. “The learning never stops – you’ve got to keep persevering,” she says. “There’s this amazing visual metaphor of an iceberg that relates to success, where under the surface there is this process of hard work, failure, sacrifice, more failure, hard work, progress etc. Then you come to the come to the tip, the bit that’s visible above the surface, and that’s success.”

Demystifying Music Technology: Recording Equipment by Christopher Steller

Imagine a more elaborate title for this tutorial, such as: “Recording your rehearsals”, or “Recording your performances”, or just “How to record”. There are so many possible scenarios for, and reasons for, recording, that I decided to stick with the basics, and explain it all in parts.

Where to start? If you don’t have a computer, or just don’t want to use one for the recording process, you can use an app on your smart phone or tablet (several companies make add-on microphones to improve the quality), or you can use a purpose-built hand-held or mobile recorder, with built-in microphone/s, such as those made by Zoom or TASCAM, etc. These examples are truly mobile because you don’t need to have a power point to plug into. Once you get back to base you can transfer your recordings to a computer (it can be someone else’s), for further editing/CD burning or e-mailing.

On a quick side note here, think about recording quality as well: if you are recording a rehearsal for personal reference, using an MP3 format is fine, and it takes up less hard disk space. If you are using the recordings for future employment, using a WAV or AIFF format is a better way to go - and professionals can often tell the difference.

If you want to step up to a more elaborate system for better quality, or multitrack recording for more instruments, then you will need to look at a laptop computer and an appropriate audio interface (and a microphone or two - more on those at a later date). These audio i/o boxes are designed to provide instrument or microphone inputs in the form of an add-on box, connected via USB/FireWire/Thunderbolt, which work with software on your computer, designed for the purpose. They also have better quality stereo outputs and headphone outputs than your computer, by itself.

My personal experience has pointed me in the direction of several brands that I prefer, and because I’m a Mac user I’ve tended towards FireWire devices. I’ve been using a Presonus Firestudio Mobile on my MacBook, which has two microphone inputs - great for a soloist or duo, or a stereo recording. For a larger ensemble, I’ve used a Firestudio Project, also from Presonus, which has eight microphone inputs.

Several of my students have asked advice on purchasing an interface (Windows users), and we have had great success with the Steinberg UR-series USB interfaces. They come in one, two, four or eight input versions, and have proven very reliable and also sound great.

This review will give you an idea of what I look for in an audio interface:

http://www.australianmusician.com.au/steinberg-ur44-audio-interface/

There are, now available, several Thunderbolt and USB3 interfaces, from Universal Audio, Zoom, Presonus, Focusrite and Resident, which I haven’t had an opportunity to test. I’ll try to remedy that with some help from the local distributors.

So, in this computer-based audio recording realm, we need to consider:

the number of simultaneous parts to be recorded;
the type of audio interface format required for your computer (USB2, USB3, FireWire or Thunderbolt);
the software needed to record/compose (Logic, Cubase, Pro Tools, Studio One, etc.), and deciding on the basic requirement or compatibility with your musical collaborators.
SPECIAL NOTE (boring but necessary): When dealing with computer hardware and software, it is important to understand the details of your current operating system in Windows or Mac, whether the devices you are considering for purchase are compatible with that OS, and when it is necessary (or otherwise) to look at updates to your software.

When you connect a device to your computer a software utility, called a driver, is used to tell the computer about the device, and how to communicate with it. If you have the latest El Kapitan or Windows 10 OS installed on your computer, you can almost guarantee that the audio interface that you purchase will not, I repeat, NOT have drivers in the box for these. Always check the device manufacturer’s website for compatibility notes or driver updates before installing anything.

There have been many occasions when I’ve had customers or clients call in a panic to say they are in the middle of recording a project and the computer no longer recognises the audio interface. After investigating the situation, I usually find that Mr Apple has offered them a free update to their computer OS, and they’ve decided to accept his kind offer. This means that any drivers or utility software installed are no longer compatible with this new OS, and the computer can’t see the connected devices.

Working with this technology is not always easy, but with some careful planning and some good basic advice, satisfactory results are easily achievable.

Next time I'll talk about microphones and the recording process.

Reviewing the Reviews

We asked Stephanie Eslake, the editor of CutCommon Mag, about what she looks for in a review - whether she's reading review submissions, or writing them herself. Here's what she told us:

The three things I look for when considering a review for publication are

Setting the scene.
It can be tough to imagine what a concert sounded and looked like without having attended. So it's important for a reviewer to take the reader on a journey. Don't just tell us that the horn was out of tune, or the strings sounded great. Force us into the experience. Make us relive the occasion, make us feel transported into the concert hall. Here's a beautiful introduction from our reviewer Lucy Rash, who wrote about a Melbourne opera gig. Not only does it set the scene, but it includes key information while doing so:

The first thing I notice about any production is its audience. A delightful cohort of immaculately dressed punters buzz about the foyer of Melbourne’s State Theatre for the season opening of Opera Australia, and the opening night of its production of Rigoletto. Conversation is flowing, champagne is being downed, and crisp dinner jackets adorned with the freshest of flowers are getting about like it ain’t nobody’s business. The esteemed costume designer Tracy Grant Lord steps past me on her way to the auditorium. So tangible is the warmth of the atmosphere here that I’m sure she has tailored this too.

Honesty.
If you don't like something, don't be afraid to say so. But tell us why. If you thought the balance was off, why was it? What do you think was the cause, and should something have been done differently? If the acoustics were terribly mismatched for the ensemble, we need to know. If all the negative aspects are filtered for fear of offending, it's not worth reading. That said, it's very important to be respectful - and constructively critical. By sharing both positive and negative aspects of an event in your review, you will grow confidence as a writer, you will be honest with your audience, and you will be providing a credible opinion that may actually help an ensemble or musician grow. Samuel Cottell reviewed a performance of Wagner's Tristan und Isolde by the SSO, and expressed his mixed opinions with eloquence:

Isolde, performed by soprano Christine Brewer, soared above the orchestra in full force. Brewer took some time to warm up during the first act, but by the second was executing lines with vivid emotion, exploring all that Wagner set out for his singers. Her final moments on stage in Act III (the famous Leibostold) were performed with a powerhouse of emotion and sensibility, the only shame being that she was at times drowned out by the orchestra in front of her.

Personal Voice.
A review might include all the information we need to know as readers, but it will lose its strength without a distinct personal voice. While it's pretty easy to make a list of what you hear and see, I also want to get a sense of who you are when I read. Because ultimately, that's what breathes life into any piece of writing. Ben Nielsen's introduction to a review of Opera Australia's performance of Tosca is simply bursting with character:

“Have we seen this before?” a man mutters to his partner, in the ill-timed quiet of Act I. While I might usually turn my head to shush him (and almost consider doing so when he proceeds to noisily unwrap a boiled sweet), this time I suppress the urge to respond, “Yes, we have all seen this before. The entire summer season consists of revivals”.

Some things to try before you start reviewing:

Read reviews.
Read as many reviews as you can, and know the style of the publication for which you'll be writing. If it's conversational in tone, like many magazines are, then you'll need to match it. A review in a newspaper might be more formal in tone, and the amount of information you can introduce may also be restricted by space limits in print. Writing reviews for online magazines affords a lot of creative freedom in this way. So know the character of the publication, and know the audience.

Listen to music.
Listen to past recordings and YouTube videos of live concerts featuring the works you're set to see. You'll have a greater idea of the different approaches musicians might bring to the work, and when you become familiar with the elements in a piece it's easier to make your own judgement in the concert hall. You'll pick up little elements you may never have thought to consider.

Write as much as possible.
Grab a CD out of the cupboard, chuck it in your player, and just write what you hear. It isn't for any publication, it's for you. It's important to become comfortable with your own words and confident in your style, and this can only come from regular writing.

While it may seem the primary reason you're reviewing the concert is to let us know how the music sounded, the importance of describing the non-musical aspects shouldn't be underestimated. I once attended an incredible performance by the Tasmanian Symphony Orchestra as part of last year's Dark Mofo festival, and I was so inspired by the visual experience that it provided me with plenty of material to write about and share with readers. The event took place in the Federation Concert Hall and featured Gregorian chant by candlelight (yep - it was stimulating). What a night it was! The singer was dressed in a "ghostly white gown" and had delivered her melody from behind the orchestra - how unusual. At one point, it seemed the audience collectively held its breath until the end of the piece when the conductor's arms, "poised in the air, finally collapsed and released us".

These simple observations aren't musical at all. But they do add colour to a review. When you open your eyes as well as your ears, the entire concert experience will become richer - not only for you, but for your readers.

On 4'33'' by Aidan Maizels

Perhaps the most discussed piece of music of all time (The Rite of Spring and Dark Side of the Moon are probably the other contenders), is John Cage's 4'33". Whether it be as the butt of jokes amongst performers regarding recital timings, or as a springboard for debate over what constitutes music, noise or sound art (if indeed there is a difference), everyone has an opinion on this piece.

Most discussions on the piece seem to centre around it being one of the first examples of 'ordinary' noises used in a piece of music, as well as how Cage's inspiration for the piece came from proving that pure silence is impossible. The discussion will then usually amble into the topic of anechoic chambers and how people would be interested to go into one to see what it would be like, before a bombardment of anecdotes about people who have gone in them ensues.

But it has been 63 years since the piece was written, and now more than ever, with relentless street buskers, the seemingly mandatory ownership of iPods, and a higher population density (more of other people's noise for you to enjoy), surely the idea of silence being unachievable is more obvious than ever, and thus makes this piece superfluous? Yet we keep coming back to discuss it...

I believe the reason we do is because Cage demonstrated far more than he intended to with this piece. Whilst nowadays the concepts of non-silence and noise as music are seen as fairly commonplace, there are still many aspects of the piece that remain relevant, yet unaddressed.

I recall one of my professors saying how he would've liked to have heard the piece without any prior knowledge about it, to see if his opinion would differ. This made me think back to when I first heard about the piece, how it was to be performed, what sounds would usually be heard during performances, and I clearly remember my first impressions.

I felt that one point of 4'33" was to highlight the sometimes ridiculous performance practices of classical music (how many 18 hour opera cycles do I have to write before I can clap between the movements again?). The other point that immediately occurred to me was the idea that no matter how technically or musically superb the performer's part was in performing the music, there were always extraneous events that would interfere, making the 'perfect' performance impossible (at least as far as the performer's control is concerned).

By taking away what is meant to be the key element of any musical performance (the music), Cage not only highlighted the extraneous sounds that may interfere negatively or positively with a live performance, but the extraneous traditions and practices that are drilled into performers and audiences without any questioning of why it is being done.

And even though the performer(s) of the piece essentially do(es) nothing, there are still furious debates about which version is the 'best' or 'most definitive' (another tutor insisted that the London Symphony Orchestra's version was mind-blowing and a must-listen). I personally believe that such discussions surrounding the piece further add to the joke that isn't the piece itself, but the way that music is treated within different cultures. With this piece, Cage used the absence of music to remind us of what exactly it is, and highlighted our obsession with the embroidery (rather than the material) of what we think of as music.

Demystifying Music Technology: An Introduction by Christopher Steller

In amongst the virtuosity and traditionalism of working in music, we have to take some time to squeeze in the necessities of working in today's world. Musical communication relies on modern gadgetry as much as any other form of “communication”, where you need to relay your ideas in any number of different formats - audio files for rehearsal notes, manuscript files for performance, or just sending a show reel to a prospective employer for a gig.

Do you want to record your rehearsals for self-evaluation or to document progress? How do you realise your compositions or arrangements in a practical format that doesn't involve paying players while you are still experimenting? Just making your scores look more professional in a notation programme can be a daunting task without the right tools.

Technology. There, I said it. Desktop or laptop computers, audio interfaces, software, iPads or tablets, microphones, tuners, even the best metronome for the job. That's why we're here.

Some of the areas I'd like to cover in upcoming tutorials include ’the does and don’ts of turning your computer into a recording system’,’how to record your rehearsals’, ’using sounds in your music software to hear your compositions’, ’utilising different audio file formats for different situations’ and ’what notation software types are currently available’. If you have any other questions about using any music-making technology, feel free to ask.

Owner's manuals are often not very friendly, which is why YouTube is filled with video tutorials. Manuals too often assume knowledge, or a familiarity with the technical jargon associated with equipment. Fine if you've been dealing with it for years, but mind-numbingly confusing for a novice.

To get started, we'll introduce the components required to turn your computer into a recording system, with the questions you’ll need to answer before you can set foot out the front door:
1) Will my computer be adequate? - check the requirements of the software you are considering
2) Do I need to record my voice/instrument or more than one simultaneously? - how many microphone inputs will I need when buying an audio interface?
3) Will I need a microphone? What sort of microphone? How many?
4) How will I hear the recordings? Headphones, speakers?
5) Do I want to use a music keyboard to enter notes, or will the qwerty keyboard be adequate?

That's enough to get the ball rolling. We’ll talk again soon.

Mastering the Class by Daniel Carison

Author's Note: It should be noted that the ideas and opinions expressed in this article are my own and have been established through experience and are in no way definitive. The following is an opinion piece that aims to assist all musicians, presenters, performers and spectators in understanding the difficulties that are experienced regularly in master classes. I aim to equip participants with some skills that will allow them to get the most not only from their masters, but from themselves.

Master classes - whether you like them or not, they are, as a musician, an experience that you will most likely encounter often throughout your education and career. It may be as a spectator, a performer or possibly even a presenter. Any musician knows that the 'Master Class' is common place in the classical world. Put very simply, a master class is a class presented by an expert in a field to students of that discipline. The birth of the master class came with Franz Liszt who famously invented the practice when he was invited to give classes in piano in Weimar in 1869. However, use and or frequency of the words ‘master class’ remained non-existent until the middle 20th century and it wasn’t until the 1980’s that the term developed relevance in regular literature. This data explains, in part, the trend of master classes becoming a regular part of the musical curriculum during the 70’s and 80’s. Today, internationally the ‘master class’ is standard practice at the university and college level and also at the professional level within young artist programs in opera houses around the world.

So, if master classes are so ingrained in the musical culture, what should we seek to gain from them? Let me start by saying that I’m not a great advocate for master classes and find that they can often be hit and miss in their usefulness. But as a performer I have come to accept and respect their relevance in the industry. I believe that master classes have a place in the musical curriculum for two large reasons. The first is educational as you would expect. They are designed to be a platform for students to work with performers and educators who are at the top of their game professionally or have had very successful careers. These presenters are ‘masters’ of their field and have acquired knowledge in special areas such as language, style, performance practice etc. which they impart in their teaching. Just as Liszt would have had expert knowledge of not only his own music but of so many other composers of his generation, so too must we have researchers and educators sharing this knowledge with future generations of performers. For this reason masterclasses become a wonderful way not only for students to gain access to critical information, but it also allows musicologists and researchers a platform on which to share their knowledge and encourages musician to engage in a healthy collaborative process. One of a few flaws with the practice is that great performers who often crossover into teaching don’t always make the best teachers, just as some great teachers don’t make the best performers. The assumption that someone who knows ‘how to do’ must know ‘how to teach how to do’ isn't always founded. In my experience I have seen some presenters attempt to teach young singers by telling them what to do, but not equipping them with skills to achieve this in their own body and sound. We shouldn’t draw a complete distinction between performers and teachers because there are and have been great performers who have made fantastic teachers. But it’s important to be discerning between those who teach by accommodating for each individual's learning style, and those who teach to sing like they do or as they were taught when they were learning.

The second reason that master classes have rooted themselves into music education is because they make for effective public events for donors, sponsors, scouts and large music organizations to generate support and hype. Often the intention of a master class can be determined by the people in attendance. I am grateful to anyone invests their time and money into the arts and particularly the classical musical industry, and often it is the connections that larger organizations have that allow for such great artists to come and present.

Below is a guide that is designed to assist musicians (particularly singers) in preparing for master classes. The guide is also useful for teachers, presenters and performers of all disciplines.

A Guide to Mastering the Class:

1. Select repertoire that shows your best qualities - Correct repertoire selection is not only important in the case of a master class, but it is at heart of your development as a musician.

When selecting repertoire for a master class it is important to do your research on the person conducting the class first. Find out information about their careers as musicians and what their specialties are. For example, if the person giving the master class is renowned for their excellent diction and knowledge of French and French repertoire, then picking something French. If the master is known for being a wonderful teacher of Lieder and German repertoire from the romantic period, it may not be so wise to bring baroque aria. This isn't exactly a rule of thumb, as many of the people giving master classes will be very versatile musicians with knowledge in various areas, but you will get a lot more from the presenter if you pick repertoire that they have an intimate understanding of with regards to style, language and performance practice.

You should pick music that exemplifies your best qualities and reflects your present stage of development. There are few factors to be taken into account with this point. Age, voice-type and the orchestration of the music are but a few very important elements to consider. It is important to think in the present and select music based on the type of voice you have now, not the one you may have in 20 years. If you sing with the voice you have now you will be able to develop it down the track, but you can't develop something that isn't yours. Voices age and develop at a different rate for everyone and you can't force yourself into being suitable for certain repertoire. To give you an example, when I was studying in my first year of university I performed Sarastro's aria 'O Isis und Osiris' from Mozart's Die Zauberflöte. At the time I may have thought that I was going to be Bass and upon reflection, I couldn't have been more wrong. The aria (while it may have been singable for me) did not show off my voice to the best of its abilities and thus I didn't get the most from myself in that particular instance. This wasn't an example of a piece of music that reflected my age or voice type.

When it comes to opera, oratorio and orchestrated Lieder and Art song, ensure that you also examine the orchestration of the music. Sometimes it pays to think and ask yourself if you were to be accompanied by an orchestra, would your sound be able to carry over the orchestra to the back of the auditorium? Observing orchestral scores is a great habit to get into and will be discussed further in the next tip.

Pick music that challenges you while still taking into account the above factors. Make sure that those challenges are realistic and with hard work can be overcome.

Exercise caution in your choices and always consult your teachers, because while some music may be singable, not all of it will show your best qualities. You don't want the presenter to question why you are performing something.

2. Prepare thoroughly - Audiences are very perceptive and often it is quite clear when someone doesn't know what they're singing about. Fortunately we live in a world where there is an abundance of information at our fingertips that once wasn't available to young aspiring singers and musicians. Nowadays we have access to all kinds of historical information, videos, interviews, recordings and other resources whereby there simply is no excuse for not knowing something when it comes to your work. Depending on the individual giving the master class, not being able to answer standard questions about your repertoire or how you have prepared the work can be the difference between a slap on the wrist and being asked to leave. Strong preparation is vital to your self- preservation as a musician and as an artist.

Everyone prepares differently, so if you have your own style and like working that way, by all means continue. If you are completely unsure how to prepare hopefully some of the following tips will be useful.

Research the composer and the work in as much depth as you can. Knowing more about the work and where it came from can only ever help you have a clearer idea of how to present. Here are some things to ask: When did the composer write the work? Why? Was it a social or a political commentary? Was it personal? Who is the poet/librettist? When was it performed? These questions are groundwork and depending on the work, there are many more you should be asking and answering

Pull the score apart line by line. Ensure that you write out both a literal and poetic edition of text for your reference. It's not enough to know what your singing about, you must know what you are saying word for word. Many people will ask for a literal translation and you want to be ready when it happens. Once people do this it is often incredible how quickly a performance develops character through a simple understanding of the text. Suddenly the work has more colours, variation, emphasis and the poetry comes out.

Study the orchestration and the score. As mentioned earlier, knowledge of the orchestration is vital in selection of repertoire, but great composers leave so much information on the page, a lot of which is removed when works are reduced to a piano and vocal reduction. Identify in the score where you can take your cues from. Ask yourself; what instruments are being played at this point? How does this texture effect the mood and my choice of vocal colour? Is there any instrument I should listen out for to find my note? How is the music telling the story and what instruments are being used to do this? Composers often also leave details such as stage directions and performance notes.

Listen to recordings. You should never attempt to learn a piece through recordings and there is an endless list of reasons why this is the case, but when you are studying a work, listening to recordings of fantastic musicians and artists can help us understand the power of interpretation. The possibilities are endless and comparing the musical choices of great singers will help you decide how you want to present the work. Remember this is something to do when you are immersing yourself in a work, you should never attempt to copy or mimic.

Learn the work properly and intimately. If you learn something correctly, it will stay with you like that forever. If you learn and practice in mistakes, they can be so hard to remove. Be patient and allow your brain you absorb the information gradually. You will have to develop your own method of learning and practicing music, but if anything can be said for singers, it is that you can never prepare your text too well. I encourage everyone to learn their texts in as many ways possible by turning it into a dramatic recitation, writing it, speaking it casually and of course singing it.

These are only some of many more tools that can and should be employed in your preparation. It is also important to remember that when you step up to perform the master may ask you about everything pertaining to your work. They may also ask you nothing. But remember that all of your research informs your performance and your interpretation. I believe the most ideal situation you can have in a master class is when you perform and your master doesn't feel the need to ask you 20 questions about the work, because it was already clear how much you knew by the way you performed and how much of that information you shared with the audience.

3. Have a clear idea of what you want to work on - Provided you have prepared well, it should be clear what you feel you need or want to work on. I recall a master class I performed in during my second year of my undergraduate studies. I performed Zueignung from Strauss' 8 Gedichte aus "Letzte Blätter". I knew the work very intimately and after my performance I asked, "What do you want to work on in this piece?", a question which I not only had no answer to but hadn't even considered. After this revealing experience I made the executive decision not to get up and perform unless I had a clear intention as to what I wanted to get from the class. This is also comes back to the first issue of selecting music that your presenter may have an extended understanding of. Always go in to a master class wanting to work on something that perhaps only that person can help you achieve. For example, if you want to induce more line in your German Lied, make this something to work on with a German presenter who will help you achieve this without sacrificing the text.

4. Be prepared to take risks – A masterclass when run properly should be a relaxed and open- minded environment (similar to that any other lesson with your teacher) where you can experiment. Of course it is important to have made educated decisions about how to approach your music going into the class, but more often than not, presenters respect and appreciate when performers will take risks in their performances and induce some individual artistry. Within good style and taste don’t be afraid of making the work your own and being as expansive as possible with your colours and dynamics, because you can peg it back later on.

5. Be diplomatic and reasonable – Not all classes will have a relaxed mood and not every presenter will be easy to get along with. This is one of the reasons that it is very important to prepare your music well. You don’t want the presenter to be spending both your time and their time correcting mistakes. The presenter may criticize you for a number of reasons and it as that point that I always encourage you to be polite and humble. In my experience I’ve seen great battles unfold between singer and presenter and the outcomes have been quite destructive. Ultimately, the battle is not worth it. This isn’t to say that you shouldn’t be confident and stand by your musical choices; it is more about keeping an open mind and avoiding becoming offended if you are challenged. If and when you are ever faced with this problem, it is important to remember that this particular moment is transient and once you walk off the stage, you are not obligated to agree with what you have been told or take it with you into the future. This is can be said for almost every learning encounter you have. As a musician you will be told many things throughout your career and it is your job to be discerning and chose which information you will hold onto as you develop and what you will politely leave behind. Remember you are in the business of working with others so being polite and avoiding confrontation is very important in self-preservation.

6. Don’t get wound up in what your peers/spectators might be thinking – One of the nerve- wracking aspects of a master class is the audience factor. A master class isn’t exactly a classroom where you always will feel completely safe to make a mistake, but it’s also not a fully-fledged performance where an audience will simply listen without analysing. As mentioned earlier, often master classes are filled with your peers and there can sometime be a competitive element that intensifies a situation. In the world of scholarships and young artist programs, some master classes can be filled with scouts, sponsors and donors, and if you are the recipient of a scholarship it can sometimes feel like there is a weight on your shoulders to deliver and prove yourself as a worthy investment. As hard as it may be, one must separate themselves from the background distractions that often deter us from giving our best performance and simply focus on the job at hand. Remember that you decided to perform in the master class to pick the brain of your presenter, not that of your peers. You are the only person responsible for your development. What is going on in the minds of your audience does not determine what you can achieve. While I was studying I spoke with some colleagues who admitted to never singing in a single masterclass during their degree. Always remember that you are enough! Getting up and performing in a masterclass and being prepared to have your entire performance and technique deconstructed in public is a brave thing.

7. Don’t take yourself too seriously – Everyone has bad days and one of the greatest mistakes musicians can make is to seek perfection from every performance they give. Be embracing of the fact that you are always learning as a musician and that it is often very useful to have a less positive experience every once in a while to keep you honest and motivated in your work. Think of every experience as an opportunity to learn. Be patient and always think about how you can take what you learn into the next performance, lesson or session in the practice room.

8. Pace yourself - Take your time. Don't feel the need to get up and perform at every single opportunity that presents itself. Remember that observing can often be as useful as participating. When you aren't performing you don't have the added stress that can come with being judged by everyone in the room and in some cases, you may take more away from a class than you think. In my study, I have seen many instances where my colleagues got up and performed the same works week after week, and in some instances year after year and yet, their performances had not developed. Now, I fully support the idea of collaborating with as many people as you can, but I believe this has a limit to its usefulness. It is possible to be overloaded with information from your coaches and teachers and they will all have a different view on how you should perform your works. Being over-coached on one work and taking every piece of information that you are given as gold will not allow you to develop your performance. Ultimately, people can get stuck in limbo where they no longer have clear decisions made about how to perform their work. The performance can become dry, over analysed and inconsistent. Good artistry takes time (lots of time) and you need to go away and experiment with what you've been told from the first coach before you can hope to please the next one.

As musicians we never truly finish learning, especially when it comes to a piece of music. With that in mind, don't rush. Leaving a work to rest and sit in your folder for while doesn't present us with closure; rather it presents us with opportunity. The opportunity to return to a work anew and make it infinitely more interesting than we ever imagined.

Discomfortable: A 30 Day Challenge by Susan de Weger

Editor's Note: We challenge you to play for someone, or document your practice/composition preparation in some way for 30 days. If you would like to get involved, show us pictures of you performing for your family and friends! Post them on our Facebook page or hashtag #myrehearsalroom on social media. We'll be doing it too - and we can't wait to see what you do with this challenge!

30 People - 30 Consecutive Days - 30 Different Locations

Last year I embarked on a 30-day solo performing challenge to see what impact this fast track approach could have on my crippling performance anxiety. Performing for 30 people, on 30 consecutive days, in 30 different locations. This is the first time I have publicly shared this project, and I do so in the hope that this journey might inspire you to think creatively about strategies to make a different in your life if you are facing similar challenges.

Performance anxiety has been a constant companion in my musical life. As a student, for years I avoided the discomfort and chose not to perform on my own, unaware that the cost of avoiding failure was that the thoughts of "I'm not a good enough player" easily spiraled into "I'm not a good musician", then onto "I'm not a good person". Attributing uncomfortable experiences to personal deficiencies comes at a high price. So, after completing my degree, I walked away from music. Broken and lost, musically, for 16 years.

Having found my way back to music a few years ago, I was ready to see how this older and wiser version of my musician self could address the challenge. I approached this in the same way that we prepare large scale, challenging compositions; breaking it down into smaller, achievable sections. I chose to take a small step towards a big goal, every day, for 30 days.

I was keen to learn about the neuroscience of conscious self-monitoring to find out about how I could better manage those negative thoughts. This TED talk featuring Dr Charles Limb is a great introduction to how understanding your brain can improve your performance state of mind:

"I think for art and for high-level flow states, the ability to suppress your own brain may be one of the real hallmarks for what makes somebody great, I think kind of the ability to get out of their own way - not just musically but neurologically" - Dr Charles Limb

I was also prepared to fail. I was failing at performing anyway, so what difference would it make if I fell flat on my face in front of someone, every day, for 30 days.

Here is my unabridged journey, transcribed from handwritten notes every day:

Day 1 - 16/04/14 Performed for Nicholas: Not nervous but hesitant. Good focus but needed great engagement. Second run much better. Need to work on making the second run the first run.

Day 2 - 17/04/14 Performed for Anne: Not nervous, just excited. Good focus, a little wandering. Great statements, musicianship really good. Anne says I gave her my fear, that I looked fearful as if I did not want to put the Horn to may face. I need to give joy and love, to share this!

Day 3 - 18/04/14 Performed for Sue: Tired, not nervous but very low energy. Energy focus on giving, not on fear. Some good playing, technique suffered from general fatigue.

Day 4 - 19/04/14 Performed for Bruce: Felt very small. Small sound, small musical gestures. Not much performing happening, just playing I can work on this for tomorrow. Big sound, big gestures = big result. Mild physical discomfort which I noted but didn't affect the exercise. Playing in a range of acoustics is really valuable. Play a few more notes and hear it in the room before starting. No more playing today, just listening and singing.

Day 5 - 20/04/14 Performed for Brandon: Watch facial expressions. Stay focused. Don't show the thinking on my face. Record and watch this. Staying centered should help as there is no space for self critique. Same for the assessment; keep it post performance, not during. Not nervous, no physical discomfort. Very tired, sloppy playing and not the sound required due to fatigue of mind and body. Practice centering every time, and drill the routine every time.

Day 6 - 21/04/14 Performed for Elijah: No fear or hesitation coming across initially. Self critique happening through the pieces. This is a big challenge to break and replace with better thoughts under pressure. Bigger gestures needed so that in performance they are enough. Phrase marks helped, possibly the visual of the phrasing gives the mind a good focal point. Practice more extremes. Louder/Softer/Faster.

Day 7 - 22/04/14 Performed for Anthony: Bigger gestures but they could be bigger. Small sound, combination of fatigue and room acoustics. Felt very comfortable. Continue to work on the the biggest sound first then everything will build from there. Comfort level = high. Performance = not undermined by nerves. Practice needs to be bigger.

Day 8 - 23/04/14 Performed for Kara: No physical discomfort. Excited about the challenge of BIG gestures. Worked on playing BIGGER and smoother in the practice room. Much bigger and better sound with a convincing delivery. ENJOYED some phrases! Little amount of critique through the piece, not really negative assessment but moments where focus was not on being bigger but where things had not gone as planned. Continue to be bigger, continue to play with trust and belief (not hope) and continue to make a statement.

Rest Day - 24/04/14: Well earned!

Day 9 - 25/04/14 Performed for Roman and Ryan: No physical discomfort. Excited to practice the great feeling of control and to make a musical statement. Very minimal negative judgement of thought and facial expressions. Need to work on passage so as to play with trust and not hope. Be even bigger in the practice room. There only needs to be trust. I understand how to prepare.

Day 10 - 26/04/14 Performed for Dave: Great warm up at home. Couldn't quite get to this level of comfort and control. A little nervous, but great focus and presence. No judgement, no learning, just playing. Work on bigger gestures - more time in the practice room. And not just playing to the acoustics of the room. Play to the back row of the hall. Think only of this - not technique or judgments.

Day 11 - 27/04/14 Performed for Phoebe: Well THAT happened. Performance did not go according to plan. Couldn't get beyond the fact that the sound was not what I wanted. Lots of stops and starts even with trying to stay centered. I chose to interrupt rather than continue. Perhaps my intent to impress Phoebe rather than practice my performance was a higher value. Allowing my attention to be on the judgement of others completely derailed the performance. Be mindful of this and make more conscious choices. Attention and intention, especially if circumstances are challenging. I cannot avoid failure, but i can work to improve consistency. Better at failing means better at performing fearlessly. I am proud to have taken this, in the moment and now, with an interested detachment. No judgment of critique. Just a curiosity of what to learn from this. Failure to try is failure to learn. This level of thinking and trust is a victory beyond anything I could have played through the Horn.

Day 12 - 28/04/14 Performed for Rob: Good chat beforehand. Lips feeling sore and not the sound I want but felt ready to play with heart and mind. Played with good focus and intent, no judgment, kept looking forward and thinking forward. Felt very comfortable, happy to be performing. Work on attention to the in breath, this drives all else.

Day 13 - 29/04/14 Performed for Don and the Horn Class: Played without warming up after a long chat. Focus was coming and going but felt committed to the music and spirit of performance. Played only to the small room, need to work on this. Playing to the best of my ability is playing to the back of the hall. Feedback was not to close my eyes, it pulls everything inside. Work to keep my eyes open especially when things are not going as planned.

Day 14 - 30/04/14 Performed for Saul: Take the concept of the insolent old school Russian teacher, it should be so easy, do I really need to demonstrate it to you! Experiment with levels of laziness, let everything drop forward - no pushing emotionally or physically. Try an extreme relaxation of attitude, of the need to control. Try a lack of sensitivity, of emotion, of physicality. How far can I take this relaxation?

Day 15 0 01/05.14 Performed for Jess and Grad Class: Not nervous, good focus, some expansive playing. Enjoyed filling the room with great sound. Thoughts of "this is too easy!". Physically very comfortable, enjoyed filling the hall, not the ideal musically but confidence with great dynamic contrast. Very focused on the moment, concentration in a good place. I enjoyed this!!

Day 16 - 02/05/14 Performed for Megan: Felt comfortable, good musicality coming from this place of enjoyment.

Day 17 - 03/05/14 Performed for Kevin: Felt physically great. Easy to stay in good focus. No inner judgment, no facial contortion, but also no performance. Need to work on not just the Horn, maybe caring about the Horn a little less and a bit more about the showbiz.

Day 18 - 04/05/14 Performed for Katrina: A great performance! Felt a little nervous but retained only what was important in the present. To care a little less and relax into the sound and the music. Played beyond the room (cats computers, boyfriend) with confidence, calm and belief. A great strong softness of mind and body!

Day 19 - 05/05/14 Performed for Stuart: Great Mozart! Felt excited, relaxed and happy. Thoughts were to stay loose physically - shoulders, torso and embouchure. Great musicality and sound. Clear mind and great clear focus before starting. Happy Happy Happy Days!!

Day 20 - 06/05/14 Performed for Monica and Anthony: Felt a bit bored. Delivery was ok, satisfied with sound but not excited or enthused to perform. Sleep related? Not nervous, just detached from the audience and not in the mind space to perform. So a respectable effort but not much of a performance. Physically weary. Need to work on thinking excitedly before the performance about making a statement. Music is the first principle and most important, NOT the circumstances or situation.

Day 21 - 07/05/14 Performed for Anton: Wow. Eyes open!! Take the personality from the performance and leave only the music, a beautiful statement. This is the way ahead. To be of the music and transcend the self. So easy, so peaceful, so powerful.

Day 22 - 08/05/14 Performed for Sarah: Great sound, great phrasing and mood. A little nervous but the physical distraction (not discomfort) could be harnessed to use the hormonal balance to good effect. No eye closing or shutting out or shutting down. Detached observation when not going to plan, but no pull through of thoughts to future notes.

Day 23 - 09/05/14 Performed for Ella: Oh boy, not great today, mild hangover and tired. What a negative effect that combo. Has derailed the whole day, mind and body suffering. A big lesson in self-management and consequence. Struggled with the discrepancy between what's in my head, what I now expect to come out of my Horn, and the sound I could hear myself making. I chose to let this rule my thoughts and action. Ella said if I hadn't stopped she wouldn't have known, so my facial expressions and body language are faculties well under my control!! I can choose great self care, of mind and body. I can choose to continue performing when the quality gap is there because nobody but me knows.

Day 24 - 10/05/14 Performed for Jackson Family: Felt excited, looked forward with great expectation to performing for friends in an intimate environment. Great control over sound, dynamics, felt quite easy. Very nice lyrical playing with a great sound. A fun performance experience.

Rest Day - 11/05/14

Day 25 - 12/05/14 Performed for Sydney and Brass Class: Eyes wide open - transcend self. So powerful, so easy.

Day 26 - 13/05/14 Performed for Isaac
Day 27 - 14/05/14 Performed for Russell
Day 28 - 15/05/14 Performed for Julia
Day 29 - 16/05/14 Performed for Sharron

The Take home:

On Day 10 I realised that my concept of fear and failing had shifted when I got back in the car, having not played well, and felt nothing. At that point I understood that practice doesn't make you perfect, but helps you stop thinking that you have to be. Through repeated opportunity to practice being discomfortable, I understood that I can perform with thoughts and feelings of fear and self doubt. I can acknowledge in the moment of performance that I’m experiencing those emotions and continue with the greater purpose of sharing the gift of music.

Here’s a wonderful quote from Elizabeth Gilbert’s Ted talk about fear and creativity.

“You have to recognize that fear and creativity are conjoined twins. And what I see people doing in their lives is they're so afraid of their fear that they end up trying to kill it. And when they kill it, they also kill their creativity because creativity is going into the uncertain, and the uncertain is always scary. And so what I've had to figure out how to do over the years is to create a sort of mental construct in which I make a lot of space to coexist with fear, to just say to it, hey, fear, listen, creativity and I - your conjoined twin sister - are about to go on a road trip. I understand you'll be joining us because you always do, but you don't get to decide anything about this journey that we're going on. But you can come. And I know that you'll be in the backseat in panic but we're going - mommy's driving. And we're going anyway. And you just take it along with you. And that seems to work for me.”

TED Radio Hour Where Does Creativity Come From

Go: Make something happen.

Grab a pen and sheet of paper and brainstorm how you can take small steps to tackle a big problem. Journal your ideas and draft a detailed and achievable plan to create these new habits. It’s important to journal daily through your project and that these notes include clear directives for what to improve in the next step of your journey. If you find it difficult to stay motivated, share your plan with a friend and make yourself accountable to them every day.

Postcard from London by Daniel Thomson

Finally, we have some sunshine and warm weather! After this winter and spring I had almost forgotten what it was like to wear a t-shirt and shorts. I moved to London 2 years ago for so many reasons, but the weather does not get a mention! While I am soaking in as much sun as I can here, it makes me think back to why I moved. I have found it challenging both personally and professionally, but I have achieved a lot in this short time. In this city that can feel like it is bursting with people and ambitions, it’s nice to step back and look positively at what you have accomplished.

Looking back, at university I was exploring what I like to sing. I was mostly into historical performance practice and chamber music. Sometimes solo with lute or harpsichord, with a small instrumental group or vocal ensembles with each singer on individual lines. After I finished university, I worked freelance in Melbourne for a while until I felt I needed a change. I wanted to work with more musicians my own age, broaden my understanding of historical performance and travel more to places around Europe where the music I love originates from. I also wanted to try working as a freelance tenor without having another job on the side. With no language barrier, I knew London would need to be my base.

I saved up as much as I could over 3 years to cope with the expensive rent while I was looking for work. I travelled to Dartington International Summer School in Devon, UK and made as many contacts as I could. Then finally in 2015 my partner and I moved together. It was the most surreal experience hopping on the plane out of Melbourne. I was moving somewhere to start completely from scratch. No study or jobs lined up.

It was the most challenging thing I have ever faced.

Moving was a particular challenge for my relationship. We were both entirely out of our comfort zone, but we had committed to moving to another country together. The pressure was immense. In the end we found (surprise surprise) that communication was the key. Once we started to talk about the difficulties we were facing and what we were feeling, we didn’t feel so much like fish out of water. You will always be surprised at who is around and willing to help. There are so many Australians living in London already that I had more of a support network than I realized. All you have to do is make the effort to get in touch.

It takes some time to build up a new network from nothing, especially in the niche of “Early Music”. It is so easy to get frustrated with a lack of rewarding work and waiting for the snowball to roll down the hill. Thankfully, London has a lot going on. Through emailing directors, I sang in a church service three days after I arrived. Sometimes you have to remind yourself that you are basically running your own business and that it takes work and time for it to grow.

If you are willing to put your name forward, maintain a positive attitude and work hard, you can get on the right people’s radar. I am constantly seeking out instrumentalists to plan recitals with and directors I can audition for. Some good recordings and a performance CV have been essential. Also, I can’t tell you how many times you have to tell people “it was so great to work with you, do let me know if you need a tenor”. Cringe, I know, but necessary and totally genuine. I truly do love working with the fantastic musicians here and I’m always looking for more opportunities.

It’s an amazing thing to be able to say that all of my work here has been from the effort I have put in networking. Being a freelance singer can be a varied and exciting job. Since moving I have deputized in at least 50 different church choirs and vocal ensembles including Westminster Abbey choir and the Tower of London. I have settled into a regular position at the beautiful church of St Bartholomew-the-Great, the oldest church in London. I am in an ensemble of my peers (soprano, tenor, recorders, lute, harp and viola da gamba) called Lux Musicae London where I get to sing some crazy divisions and get nerdy and enthusiastic about rhetoric in singing and instrumental playing. I also regularly get to sing with one of my idols, soprano Dame Emma Kirkby, in Dowland Works. I am about to join them for an artistic residency at Hawkwood College in Stroud. Fingers crossed the weather stays nice!

These gigs outside of London can be a blessing sometimes. Leaving London occasionally helps keep me grounded. With the high-pressure sight-reading work and sheer density of people in this city (the tube at peak time is quite an experience) it can become overbearing and you need to take time to look after yourself. Thankfully as musicians, we work in a job that brings new friends and new experiences constantly. I have started a part-time Master Diploma in Switzerland at the Schola Cantorum Basiliensis and I enjoy splitting my time between London and Basel. I can’t believe that in 2 years I have been lucky enough to have worked in Switzerland, Germany, France, Italy, Spain, Belgium, the Netherlands, Denmark and Canada and I’m about to go back for some concerts at home in Melbourne. I have always loved travel and that is one of the things that drew me to singing music from many places around the world.

What I can safely say now is that I love living in London. I will be here for quite some time. Although I can’t wait to visit home. By the time you receive this, I will already be in Melbourne performing with my friends and colleagues in Ensemble 642 and the Woodend Winter Arts Festival. I’ll make sure I take time to have brunch every day though!

Postcard from Connecticut by Isaac Shieh

Standing alone in Terminal 8 of JFK International Airport at 2am in the morning, separated from the rest of the Maverick Brass Quintet and with no way of communicating with them, two thoughts came to my mind:

1) I have made it to the great nation of USA
2) It’s going to take some serious effort if I want to be reunited with the rest of the group

In many ways, our trip to America is similar to the journey Frodo in Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings: namely, that it took a very long time to get to the destination. From the moment the pilots announced an emergency landing at Sydney due to an oil leak, we knew we had on our hands a story for the ages. By the time we got to our hostel at 4 in the morning, I was, more than anything, relieved to not be sitting on a plane. We attacked the jet lag head on by cramming in as many tourist activities as possible during our two days in the Big Apple, which may have resulted in some public napping on the subway and in the baseball stadium...

Being very sleep deprived and slightly out of practice were probably not factors that would make a successful start to a six-week residency at the Norfolk Chamber Music Festival, but at least we could say we made the most out of our time in New York!

Flashback to 10 years ago, I remember the first time I listened to a brass quintet play was when I first got a CD of Empire Brass playing a selection of Renaissance and Baroque music. Back then, I had no idea what chamber music was or even what a brass quintet was! But what I do remember vividly is how I sat next to the CD player and thought: “this is really cool!” This memory, while it has had very little influence on my musical upbringing, struck me as being special when we found out that the first coach we were to work with at the Norfolk Chamber Music Festival happened to be one of the players from Empire Brass; my introduction to brass quintet music.

It's not often you get to meet one of your childhood idols. It's rarer still to have the opportunity to spend time and learn from them in such an intensive yet exhilarating environment of music making. So far, the three weeks we have spent with the faculty members and fellows of Norfolk Chamber Music Festival have been incredible and eye-opening. In particular, our coaching sessions with Scott Hartman and William Purvis have been invaluable. Not only did we improve individually and as an ensemble, we were able to receive a wealth of musical ideas as well as professional experiences from world class musicians. By having the opportunities to interact with like-minded people, I have been intoxicated by the sheer passion for chamber music making that surrounds Norfolk. For me, it is rare to have the chance to witness intimate chamber music making at the highest calibre in such a close proximity, and in many ways, it has simply been a humbling and inspiring experience that motivates me to become a better musician every day.

‘Great moments are born from great opportunities’ - Herb Brooks

From our first performance of Bernstein’s West Side Story to our recent performance of Hillborg’s Brass Quintet, I knew I am part of a very special festival that will have a lifelong impact on me as a musician, and I feel very privileged and humbled to be able to spend the six weeks with four of my closest mates. The Norfolk Chamber Music Festival, with its rich history of world class music making, is unique in many ways. To play on the very same stage that Antoine Dvorak, Sergei Rachmaninov and Percy Grainger have performed on many years ago is an incredibly surreal feeling. Not only that, to have the chance to live and work alongside members of some of the best string quartets as well as chamber musicians around the world is something that is beyond my wildest dreams. Undoubtedly, the festival has given me the ability to improve as a musician no classroom or practice room can provide. In the space of three weeks, I have improved immensely as a musician; gaining a far better understanding of the intricacy of chamber music making. But most importantly, the Norfolk Chamber Music Festival has united like-minded musicians under one purpose: the strive for the pinnacle of chamber music performance; to allude to the powerful memories or sensitive emotions shared by the musicians and the audience.

Postcard from Connecticut II by Isaac Shieh

Standing in Terminal 7 of the JFK International Airport seven weeks after arriving in the United States of America, a very different thought has come to mind as I depart for Melbourne. Clouded by a sense of poignancy, it's hard not to reminisce the fond memories I shared at Norfolk with my new and old friends.

Flashback to the start of the festival, I didn't really know what to expect. Slightly intimidated by the sheer talent and calibre of the other fellows, I set out to just try to perform my best and learn from the amazing musicians surrounding me. As the weeks went by and I got to know everyone better, I realised that I have truly fallen in love at Norfolk; with the music, the place and the people. I was no longer intimidated by my new friends, but instead had found that our shared love of music had created a bond that in turn had helped create friendships.

One of the highlights of the festival was the opportunity to perform Dvorak’s Wind Serenade with my fellow wind musicians at the Festival Gala. While playing with the Maverick Brass Quintet is immensely fun and rewarding, it was a breath of fresh air to work with different musicians and play at a softer dynamic in general. I felt incredibly privileged to have shared such a special experience with my new found friends, united by our love of creating chamber music that is both exciting and delicate.

The two weeks with Allan Dean, former member of the New York Brass Quintet and our coach for the remainder of the festival, has also been absolutely surreal. Combining his wicked sense of humour with sophisticated musical ideas, he brought the very best of us both as individual musicians and as an ensemble. Through his engaging tales and precise musical directions, I gained a far better understanding of the intricacies required for a chamber ensemble, especially a brass quintet, to succeed and perform at its peak. While technique and musicality play an integral role, it's the affect of the music that truly makes performances memorable and powerful. To have the privilege of sharing the emotionally poignant images evoked by David Sampson’s “Morning Music” was simply unforgettable for me, where for certain instances music transpired above words as a means of expression.

Leaving the Eldridge Barn for the last time, tinged with sadness, I never imagined how difficult it would be to say goodbye to everyone and leave the festival and return back to Melbourne. I guess I had prepared myself emotionally for the end of the festival, since it would also be the last event I do with four of my closest mates before relocating to the United Kingdom, so I think what caught me off-guard was the realisation of leaving all the close friends I had made in the six weeks I have been at Norfolk. Not only have I had the opportunity to get to know other like-minded, young and talented musicians from around the world, I also bonded with them on a deeply personal level that rose out of the intensive nature of the Norfolk Chamber Music Festival. I think the fact that I was so emotionally affected on the last night is a testament to how significant those friendships mean to me. While it's incredibly poignant to part ways with them, it's comforting for me to know that every one of the fellows of Norfolk Chamber Music Festival will go on to have successful careers and we are likely to cross paths again in the future. After all, it's not really farewell, but more like “see you later”.

I will always be grateful for the experiences I had at Norfolk Chamber Music Festival. I would like to say a sincere thank you to everyone involved in the six-week program. To Melvin; for an incredibly successful season that was bounded by freshness and energy in his first of many seasons as director of the festival. To Jim, Deanne and Ben; for making sure everything at the festival ran so smoothly and successfully, and ensuring that my time at Norfolk was stress-free and enjoyable. To Belinda, Iris, Alisa, Noa, and Sean; for being the best interns who went above and beyond their duties, and for being amazing friends that became such an integral part of the program. To Jeff; who cooked amazing meals day after day that didn't help with my intention to lose weight. While I did manage to shed off a bit of fat, I am fairly certain it had nothing to do with the food and more the “two-and-a-half hour hike” (it's really only a 15-minute walk) between the festival ground and the place half of Maverick Brass Quintet were staying. And finally and most importantly, to the fellows of Norfolk Chamber Music Festival; for all the fond memories and moments we shared during the six weeks in Norfolk. From the laughters to the tears, you have all made my time in the United States so special and unforgettable, and this is without a doubt the best Summer of my life.

Mind Games: John Beder by Madi Chwasta

Tell us about Composed - why did you decide to create this documentary?

Oddly enough the decision to start research for Composed came about while eating fish and chips on Degraves Street in Melbourne. I was living in Australia and working in IT, and by chance was catching up with an old friend I knew from my time as a classical musician. Before leaving the US, I had spent a number of years studying and performing as a classical percussionist pursuing a career as an orchestral musician. I’d received a Bachelor’s degree in music performance but since then had done little in the way of performing. One major factor in the decision to move away from music was my experience with stage fright. I’d first encountered it when I was around 18 years old and never really knew how to talk about it with other musicians. In the midst of this conversation, we discussed how strange it was that anxiety wasn’t talked about more openly. In the early stages of filming, the more musicians I spoke with the more I realised that there was an industry-wide consensus that as a community we desperately needed more conversation.

What is your personal experience with performance anxiety?

My earliest memories of performance anxiety didn’t come until just before uni began. I had been a big fish in a little pond up until then and believed I was making sufficient progress as a percussionist and musician. Suddenly at 18, I was exposed to people playing at an incredibly high level who’d been studying for years longer than I had and I was terrified to be left behind. My hands would shake or my heart would race when performing for peers and that feeling unfortunately followed me to many auditions and rehearsals. Determined at first to succeed, I buried myself in practice and though the hours were there, I wasn’t doing efficient practice and wasn’t addressing my anxiety. Looking back now it all makes perfect sense: the causes of my anxiety are clear, but whilst in it I was left confused, angry, and depressed that I couldn’t perform on stage as I did in the practice room. Eventually that depression left me with a bitter taste for music and I decided to pursue another passion: filmmaking. I’d love to say I left performance anxiety with music, but it’s something I face in daily life as well. Today, after the last few years of being a student of both my own and others anxiety, I feel a deep sense of relief knowing all the ways I can start to feel better when faced with panic and that I am not alone.

Performance anxiety is a taboo topic amongst musicians - why do you think this is the case, and how difficult was it to get musicians to speak out about their experiences on a public scale?

As musicians we often tie our music making to our identity as individuals. For many of us it was the first way we were able to describe ourselves to others. “The musician of the family” is something I heard a lot growing up and loved having some way to separate myself from others. As this label is reinforced by others and ourselves, it makes challenges seem monumental and a threat to that identity we’ve so carefully built. Admitting any challenge you face can be difficult but when no one else seems to be struggling with it and when it threatens our identity (and sometimes our livelihood) we often choose silence over asking for help.

When casting Composed it was very difficult to find musicians willing to talk about their performance anxiety. Many expressed sincere gratitude that the film was being made, but could not agree to be on camera. I should mention that none of the responses were because the musicians I ask didn't battle with performance anxiety, but instead because they didn't feel comfortable talking about it. Fortunately, through networking and persistence, we found the kinds of folks eager to change this conversation and happy to share their struggles and successes to help others.

Did the process of creating the documentary change your perspective on anxiety and it’s “solutions”?

This is a great question, and yes it most certainly did. When leaving music I remember feeling like a weight had been lifted, as I’d no longer need to endure these high-pressure situations. No more auditions, no more recitals. Ironically, the most anxiety I’ve ever felt was actually during the making of this film. It didn’t take shape in physical reactions like shaking hands, but I was racked with mental anxiety about making a good film. I’d never made anything like this and the more we’d talk to people, the more pressure I felt to deliver something they could be proud of. People would express gratitude for making a film that wasn’t even done yet! It was torture for a lot of those months and many, many times I felt like giving up. What changed my perspective, which can be applied to anything we create as artists, is that this film does not reflect the person I am today or tomorrow. Composed represents my abilities as a filmmaker on Oct. 1st 2016 (the day we finished the film) and everyday since I’ve evolved and learnt things to help create the next project. This idea has been incredibly freeing and gives way to an excitement about making movies for the foreseeable future.

As someone who also has music performance degree, how did you end up in filmmaking? Were any of the skills you developed as a musician useful in creating this film?

I switched over to a focus in filmmaking in my last year and a half of undergrad at Boston University. A friend had lent me their video camera to document our semester abroad in London and was fascinated by how I could combine a love of music with moving images. I started auditing film classes and even had my senior recital include a 20 minute short documentary I’d made about an audition with the Boston Symphony.

Shortly after graduating though I put down both music and filmmaking to start paying some bills. It wasn’t until I was living in Australia six years later that I worked up the courage, and funds, to try making a feature film.

In the end, my time as a musician had a major impact on my ability to make this film. We sometimes forget all the skills we take away from studying something like music! For years I spent between three to six hours a day practicing and watched as my abilities improved. Sounds simple enough, but knowing what we’re able to accomplish when we putting in that kind of time and effort is a gift that shows up anywhere hard work is required.

You’ve been travelling around the world touring Composed. How have audiences responded?

One thing I’ve found incredibly interesting is the difference in reaction based on location. As far as I can tell it’s always positive but in some cases we’ve realised that our screenings might be the first time anyone’s even heard the words “performance anxiety”. Many times people will say thank you and express how up until seeing the film they had no idea others felt this way. In the UK and Ireland we could tell that this was very much still a taboo subject whereas in the US some schools have started to address it in their curriculum on a more regular basis. Even with the variance in discussion, people tend to compliment the scope of the film as they find it’s really not just for those debilitated with anxiety, but for anyone who wants to feel more confident in life’s stressful situations.

More musicians are beginning to speak out about their performing experiences. What would you like to see happen through a broader discussion about performance anxiety?

For me a big focus is getting schools to acknowledge that this is an issue and to offer more in the way of resources to students. A handful of schools in the US are offering access to performance coaches and are teaching their students how to run themselves like a small business, how to build a website, how to take care of their bodies and protect against injuries, among others, and I hope that this becomes more of the norm. Music schools have survived for far too long just following the same routine of training musicians for a very narrow set of futures. Many seem to be wearing blinders and don’t see that their students need more to prepare them for the ever-changing scope of what it means to be a professional musician.

What’s next?

To quote my favourite comic book growing up, “with great power comes great responsibility”. Before making Composed I had no idea if I could deliver a film or even tell a story effectively. While I’m still learning, making Composed showed me what’s possible with a film and how much good you can do with it. The next project will likely be a story we feel a responsibility to share. Social justice, climate change, and American politics are just a few of the areas where we’re doing research for future projects.

Look After Yourself: Getting Smart About Hearing by Siobhan McGinnity

Being a practicing musician has helped my clinical practice by providing me with industry knowledge of the situations, expectations and risks that are relevant to performing and rehearsing. I’m also able to be empathetic to the musicians that I see as I know what their day to day looks like so can understand how they use their hearing for their work. Knowing about what musicians’ ears go through from first-hand experience has allowed me the space to design tools and research in a more targeted and active way than someone learning about music-making as an extension of their audiological practice. For me, it’s the foundation.

When I was younger, I began my experience of making music by playing classical piano as many kids do and of course then the impact on your hearing is relatively minimal because your practice sessions are short and not particularly loud. Now I play in an amplified setting (as Magnets) there is more to look out for. Sometimes just fifteen minutes of playing is enough for you to have hit your daily noise threshold. And it’s not just contemporary musicians working with amplification that are susceptible: classical violinists can experience left sided hearing loss due to the closeness of their instrument, and brass players and percussionists are vulnerable as well simply because of how loud their instruments can get. There’s no point fear mongering – not all musicians face the same selection of hearing issues – but if music is part of your life it’s important to be aware of how you’re using your ears.

I think it’s important to have self-awareness when you’re practicing and performing on stage, whether that be in a concert hall or a pub. Try and remember when you last got your hearing checked, if ever! We often speak about the importance of going to get our teeth checked regularly at a dentist, but not so with our ears. That doesn’t actually make much sense, particularly when your hearing is part of your day job. I think it can be easy to lose perspective on volume when you’re not checking in and consequently, we often play much louder than necessary. Our ears get tired throughout a gig, and we can find ourselves turning up the volume to compensate. If you’re in a band or just rehearsing solo, there are some really practical things you can do to, like starting off your practice sessions a little softer and remembering to tilt your guitar amp towards yourself so you can hear the high frequencies. And you can go to an audiologist to get your hearing checked out! People often put it off because they think they’re going to get a worst-case scenario result, but more often than not, things are tracking okay. During that initial consultation, I usually work with the musician to make a management plan where we discuss how they interact with sound and volume, and usually they don’t have to come back for another check-up for a year or so.

One of the most common problems that face musicians and their hearing is tinnitus, which often stems from over exposure or injury. If you go into a sound proof booth the chances are you’ll hear some kind of noise and tinnitus is where your brain makes a mistake and locks into that sound so you hear it consistently. For some it can be quite emotional experience, turning on our fight/flight response which can make it more noticeable. If you are struggling to deal with any kind of noise like this, I think it is crucial to seek support and have a session with an audiologist where you can get some more information and work on a management plan. I have gone through the experience myself and now I lecture about it and see patients struggling with it: I know that everyone’s experience is different but a good first step is to sit down and acknowledge the issue, then find a way to manage it.

Tinnitus doesn’t affect my music making but it does affect the way I experience music. If I go to a really loud gig and don’t wear earplugs I know that I’ll have restless sleep for a few nights because of the constant noise I’m hearing. So now, if it’s going to be loud, I just wear the earplugs. There is some stigma around tinnitus in the music industry and I think we all need to make a concerted effort to move past that – refusing to wear earplugs is not a badge of honour! I think it’s really important to be proactive in our own hearing choices and support others to do the same.

Hearing loss and tinnitus do not have to be a barrier to enjoying and participating in music either. I’ve seen musicians lose their hearing and continue to make incredible things and I’ve watched people born with hearing loss become amazing artists. I think as parents and as spectators the most effective thing we can do is not to project the stigma that it’s not possible and look at how young people interact with music so we can help them continue to do that in a meaningful way. I also would never tell young people to just turn their music down: it’s more important to get smart about your hearing. If you want to listen to music all day every day that’s great, but invest in good headphones that block out the background noise, because you won’t want to listen louder if you can hear clearly. I always say that it’s important to think smarter, not harder about your hearing.

My Rehearsal Room: Samantha Cardwell

My name is Samantha and I identify as hearing impaired. I was born with a bilateral sensory-neural hearing loss and I wear hearing aids full time. I am also a musician. I started learning the clarinet when I was in Grade 5 and chose the instrument because my mother used to play it so we already had one in the house. I had been begging my parents to allow me to learn the keyboard for a few years before that, so I was super excited to be given the opportunity to learn the clarinet and took it in my stride. I am currently studying a Bachelor of Arts/Bachelor of Teaching (Secondary) with one of my teaching areas being music. I am very focused on creating an inclusive classroom for any students interested in learning an instrument.

Initially, when learning the clarinet, I did not think about how I heard other musical instruments or other sounds - I certainly wasn’t as self-aware as I have grown to be. Therefore, it did not really affect my choice of instrument, as it never crossed my mind. Luckily for me, I can hear every note on the clarinet. As I developed my options for career paths, I taught myself the saxophone and flute as being able to play other woodwind instruments is an asset when you want to become an instrumentalist of any kind or a music tutor. Other instruments that I have been learning, or have taught myself, include violin, ukulele, bagpipes, piano, guitar, bassoon, oboe, trombone, and I also sing.

At the moment I play in many community ensembles and I have also played for school productions. I play the clarinet and bass clarinet in Grainger Wind Symphony. I also play the clarinet, alto clarinet, bass clarinet and alto saxophone in two different CLASAX Ensembles (The Clarinet and Saxophone Society of Victoria) and I am a member of the Victorian Region Scout Band and Whitehorse Showtime Band on flute and clarinet. Apart from those regular ensembles, I also help out with bands that want or need more instrumentalists for competitions and also help to tutor high school students for large statewide concerts and music camps.

To me, music sounds like music. It sounds no different to what anyone else can hear, except sometimes it’s a little soft. The comparison I like to make is to imagine that my level of hearing is similar to a candle in the middle of a dark space; that light doesn’t reach the corners of the room. Meaning, that I cannot hear absolutely everything in those corners, but with my hearing aids I can hear the vast majority. But also, as with candlelight, you can’t always read well by it, hence, I will be able to hear anything ‘in the light’, but sometimes it may not be as clear as it could be. To play music as well as the next musician, I do have to work more than twice as hard, as I'm not able to hear absolutely every little nuance and sound that comes out of my instrument.

To help with my hearing loss, I visit an audiologist regularly who fits me with the most up to date hearing aids available to me a the time. Also, my friends are very accustomed to looking at me now when they speak as I rely heavily on lip reading to fill in any gaps that my hearing does not pick up.

Everyone’s hearing loss is different so one person’s hearing loss could be more in the high range, some more in the low range. I very much enjoy the mellow, lower sounds of low instruments such as a bass clarinet, a tuba, and listening to a bass voice. However, to hear these instruments, they do have to be louder than if I was to listen to a higher instrument such as a violin or flute. However, other musicians with a hearing loss may be the complete opposite!

The best thing about playing an instrument is the sheer joy of being able to do something that sounds so fantastic and keeps me meeting new people in different walks of life. Music is universal and to be able to actually make something that can be understood by everyone is a fantastic feeling.

How I interact with other musicians in a band setting might be a little different than with someone without a hearing loss, but it is not that big of a difference. People I play with just know that I need to be looked at when I am talked to, and if I am playing, I will not hear anything being said. Having said that, everyone in a band setting is very professional and there are no issues with hearing or not hearing.

Some teachers will talk to their students whilst they’re playing; for example, make a remark, like, “good job!” or “make sure you phrase this properly”. This has happened to me, but I do not hear speech if I am playing. When this happens, I would stop playing to ask what was said, just in case it needed to be applied later on in the piece. My teachers soon learned to leave any comments to when I have finished because making any comments during playing was not going to be beneficial. Otherwise, I do not think I had any trouble hearing my teacher during my lesson.

In a band setting, hearing the conductor depends on many things; the size of the room, how many people in the space compared to the size of the room, how high the ceilings are, how far away am I to the conductor, is the conductor facing me or a different direction or whether the floor is carpeted. If I don’t hear everything the conductor says, it’s not detrimental, but generally, I will ask the people around me. Also, if it’s something serious or particularly important, everyone will be quiet so I should be able to hear him or her. Once I realized that it wasn’t going to be detrimental if I didn’t hear absolutely everything, I could relax a little and work a little less on hearing speech and more on having fun playing wonderful music as a team.

I was actually one of the lucky few people that started learning their instrument in a private lesson. That was just how it worked out because no one else in my Primary School wanted to learn Clarinet. Having one on one tuition meant I had no issues learning my instrument, at least none that I can remember. As I got into the higher levels and I had a specialist teacher, they pointed out that I had a little bit of air escaping around my embouchure, something that I couldn’t hear. As I hadn’t noticed it through feeling it, I certainly was not going to hear the air, especially whilst playing a note. That was a new challenge for my teacher and myself because I had to trust that they would tell me when the air went away and I had to remember the slightly different position my mouth was in to prevent air leakage. It’s one of the variations you have to make when teaching a hearing impaired student, and when learning as a hearing impaired student. It is very much related to feeling as well as hearing.

To other students I would say, don’t give up on learning an instrument because there might be something small that you cannot do YET. If you work at it and ask for help from your teacher, they will be more than happy to help you out. It may give them a challenge to try and explain a new concept or technique, but it will all be worth it when you can finally accomplish that goal. Music is worth it; it feels inherently good.

It is not more complicated to learn music with a hearing loss, as you just make subtle changes or allowances to how you learn, and the teacher makes changes in how they teach. Ultimately, it’s just different to how a hearing person would approach music. Just remember, different is not complicated.

Some hearing musicians use earplugs when playing in bands called ‘musicians ears’ or similar. I personally do not use them, and as a person with a hearing loss, I do not need them. If I find that environments are too loud, quite often live venues are too loud (over the safe dB reading if you’re being scientific), I will turn my hearing aids off, which turns them into fairly good ear plugs as they are molded to my ear shape and provide a barrier between my ear and the offensive sound. Being in loud music venues is fine to listen to the music, but if want to talk to me, unfortunately you will probably get an intense stare and a blank face if you’ve made a joke. I won’t be hearing much speech at all as there is simply too much background noise and I cannot differentiate between the noises around me and someone talking to me less than thirty centimeters away.

Some hearing impaired people do not like being asked questions about their hearing, but I love questions related to my hearing and especially so if it’s relating to music. Part of our life as hearing impaired musicians is educating those that want to listen. Sometimes you will get questions that you deem rather silly and wonder where and why they thought of that question, but a lot of the time, it is because the person really does not know and wants to find out the answer or more about you and your loss. Questions like “Are you tone deaf?” make me laugh as you would hope that the only reason that is a question, is because the person asking either does not know what it means to be tone deaf and actually deaf. For a good experience, you would just have to explain to them that deafness and tone deafness are completely different things and they mean different things for musicians.

For a child to get the best out of the music lesson there is no reason the parents need to contact the music teachers as the teachers should be willing to adapt their lessons to the students in the class so there should not be anything the parent needs to say. Teachers are trained to change their plans or work with a new challenge. If you are seeking private tuition for your child, you can let the new teacher know about their hearing loss if you feel it is relevant. Otherwise it should not be an issue.

To support your children learning music, treat them the same way you would treat a hearing child learning music; make sure they practice! But also, make sure they have access to the correct tools for practice. There is no use if a teacher sets a task with a metronome and your child only has access to one that just makes noises. There is obviously going to be a problem there. Do some research, find a good metronome that is very visual as well as producing audio, these are available as apps and physical devices from music stores, you just have to find what works for your child. This principle should be applied to every facet of their life; no child can excel in what they do with the incorrect tools to do it.

The main thing to remember is; enjoy music!

Embracing Freedom: Yoga for Singers by Mariana Masetto

In every physical action we take in our music making, whether singing or playing a musical instrument, being aware of our posture will lead us to be in a state of harmony within ourselves - to be in a function I call unity. If we consider the meaning of harmony (which is not only used in music), it makes us ponder the balance of proportions between the different parts of a whole, the result of which will always be beauty.

In music, harmony is the discipline which studies the perception of sound in a vertical or simultaneous way, in the form of chords, and the way it relates to its surroundings. Regarding the physical body, there is no doubt that musical chords are comparable to a harmonious muscular posture. If we are conscious about how to move muscles, creating more supple and relaxed movements, we will find that we are being casually harmonious. My new method Our voice has body is a coming together of music and yoga, which I have been developing through my own experience while trying to maximise the potential of the art of singing.

During my yoga practices, I used to feel the desire to break into song. And while taking singing lessons sitting next to my teachers’ pianos, I used to get this urge to move and activate my body. That is how my need to unite both of my passions - singing and yoga - was born. First I started practising yoga in my rehearsal space next to the piano, playing some chords and vocalising while doing a pose. Then I recorded some successive chords over which I would attempt different poses according to my daily needs - for instance, whether I had to perform in a concert or a rehearsal, or I was experiencing pain or my menstrual period. These practices brought about such enthusiasm in me that I quickly started to implement them in the singing and percussion classes I was giving.

This became the beginnings of my teaching method where, at the beginning of any class, I asked my students to vocalise while they did different yoga poses. During the second part of the class, we worked on the voice specifically, playing with rhythms and movements as we sang.

In developing this method, I have been able to integrate singing with yoga and, at the same time, with rhythm. It is very important to clarify that the practice of working through the poses as you sing is not a mere physical-muscular phenomenon aimed at benefitting the vocal apparatus, but rather a means by which to achieve concentration during processes as subtle as generating music with our own bodies: singing. When we work with the body, through the body, and for the body, we may transcend physical consciousness and reach higher states of thinking. The mind becomes calmer and one can approach being more serene and concentrated.

Be Mindful: Self Compassion for Musicians by John Julian

So, what is mindfulness anyway?

It’s remembering to be here and now, to see what is going on, and create a pause where you can hopefully take wiser action. Jon Kabat-Zinn has been quoted as saying: “Mindfulness means paying attention in a particular way; on purpose, in the present moment and non-judgmentally.” We start to notice what we don’t normally notice, because our minds are too busy with thoughts of the past or the future. The straitjacket of our habitual way of being starts to soften.

It seems to have become a bit of a buzzword. In your opinion, what are the biggest misconceptions about mindfulness practice?

The biggest misconceptions are that mindfulness takes thoughts away, and that it is the same as meditation.

Mindfulness can be done simply in the moment with eating, walking, and so on – it brings our attention to what is happening right now, letting go of judgement. I guess for a musician it would be like rehearsing, or actually playing, but having your mind constantly slipping off into thinking about how the audience is responding, or the old patterned thoughts that you are not good enough, or about the last time you made a mistake - and then you cease being one with your performance: your attention to the task lapses.

Meditation helps with concentration and learning patience with observations, so that we are constantly becoming aware that our minds have slipped off target and need to be brought back, by watching what is happening with our mind/body/heart systems. It's like going to a mind and emotion gym: it really strengthens up the muscles of being aware of how your attention is going, where it is, and practising bringing it back, time and time again. So, we practice mindfulness when we remember during the day and then use meditation to deepen our practice. Part of the skill is learning what mindfulness practices work for you - for example, calm breathing doesn’t work for everyone.

When you start mindfulness, one of the first things that happens is you become aware that you have a lot of thoughts. Most of us already know this, but for some reason we get shocked at how many we have when we start mindfulness and we think it’s not working for us. You quickly learn that you are not your thoughts. Jon Kabat-Zinn sometimes paraphrases Einstein who noted that "if you have one or two good thoughts in a lifetime, you are ahead of the curve". Most thoughts are not that important, we just think they are. When we get to attention, to letting thoughts go by, we can start to rest in awareness.

What's happening in the brain when one practices mindfulness?

This is an interesting question. Two forms of research are currently happening regarding mindfulness. Firstly, there are the traditional Random Control Trials (RCT’s) that examine what people believe is occurring (i.e. do they feel better?) from an intervention which may be a form of therapy, medication, or meditation or mindfulness. The good RCT’s are blinded and have pre-observations and a range of formalised post and post-post observation methods. In this group of research, cognitive researchers theorise that mindfulness meditation promotes meta-cognitive awareness, decreases rumination, and enhances attentional capacities through gains in working memory.

The second form includes studies of the brain either during or pre- and post- mindfulness interventions. In this latter group, neurophysiology scientists report changes to brain structure. There are then meta-analyses or systematic reviews of these studies that compare and examine the evidence more closely for validity.

Overall, studies are showing that benefits of mindfulness include: reduced rumination (decreased repetitive thinking), stress reduction, improvements to working memory, improved focus, less emotional reactivity, and more cognitive flexibility.

A recent study through Victoria University found that musicians are five times more likely to suffer from depression, and 10 times more likely to show symptoms of anxiety. In addition, suicide attempts were more than double that of the general population. There's no easy overnight fix for this, but what are some basic strategies musicians can use to help combat mental health issues?

I recommend the following for people - all or even just one of them helps:

Start a meditation practice where you maintain attention on your body or breath for 10 minutes a day (to start with)
Stop for 1 minute 5 times a day and just come to the present - think "what is happening outside me, what are my thoughts, how am I feeling", and then do whatever you need to think rationally and to be kind to yourself. You can also try simply sitting in total silence (put on head phones to cut noise if you must). This allows the brain to have a deep rest from noise and is therapeutic and healing.
Quiet the voice in your head, and always speak calmly and warmly to yourself – it takes practice but will change your life.
Learn to be kind to yourself. When something difficult is occurring, pay attention to it and use three sequential acts:
Say to yourself quietly and warmly “This is difficult”;
Note to yourself, quietly and warmly again, "I am not alone in feeling this, everyone has difficulties like this in life";
Say a few words to yourself as an act of kindness: "May I be calm"; "Take my time"; "This too shall pass", or others that work for you.
Eat a broad variety of food – challenge yourself to eat over 80 different foods, spices, and herbs each week, and eat slowly and with gentleness.
Exercise reasonably.
Currently, 48% of the Australian population will have depression, anxiety, or struggle with substance abuse in their life. You are not alone. Get a check up and see if you have any dysfunctional thoughts and dysfunctional thinking styles. Perfectionism and needing approval of others are two of the biggest thought patterns that create suffering across the whole planet.

Your website, Thinking Healthy, offers information on mindfulness courses, full day retreats, and workplace training. What's the benefit of attending an actual mindfulness course, over doing self-guided research and practising in one's own time?

When it comes to learning mindfulness, generally there are three options: learning from a book or an app, learning from a teacher in a one-to-one session, and learning mindfulness in a group.

Learning from a book or app

Learning mindfulness by yourself can by painstakingly slow. In my opinion, most apps are about making money rather than teaching mindfulness. Many apps also spout the science, but what they offer is then unrelated to the methods that were used in the scientific studies they quote. You also do not learn from others in the group. Apps also tend to get ignored after a while, but Insight Timer is very good. You can set it to the amount of time you wish to sit for and then just go for it – you can be just curious about where you mind goes to start, with not taking anything personally. It will also tell you how many others are sitting around the world with you.

Learning from a teacher in one-to-one

Note the word ‘teacher’. You can also use a therapist. With both a teacher or a therapist, you would need to ask them about their training and lineage - this is slanted more towards secular teachers as they now appear more common. Lineage refers to the background of their training. Mine, for example, includes the secular traditions of mindfulness and mindfulness self-compassion. I then have a Buddhist lineage where I started with the Theravadin’s and learnt simple breathing meditation, then undertook Zen meditative forms for a seven-year period. After this, I transferred to Tibetan Buddhism where I learnt Shamata, or calm abiding, and became a teacher of this in the 1990’s.

A teacher's training should include a sound understanding of meditation/mindfulness methods and attendance at an 8-week course, attendance personally at a teacher-led silent retreat for at least five days, then attendance at a train-the-trainer retreat. More senior secular teachers will have been accredited in the chosen area, have undertaken further study and mentoring, and have submitted video tapes of themselves working to a highly-experienced mentor.

Groups

In the most common 8-week group programs you get a threaded sequential teaching of the skills; as such, it can be a more structured way to learn than one-to-one sessions. Groups are cheaper! You can get 8 sessions of secular group training in MBCT, MBSR or Mindful self-compassion for between $400 to $700.

Musicians often feel time-poor as it is, with the constant pressure to practice their instrument, continue their other studies or jobs, maintain a social media presence and network, and generally put themselves out there. How can mindfulness "fit in" to a musician's day?

To become, and then keep, healthy, we need to reset the mind-body system to a healthy level and then maintain it. For many people, the action of becoming healthy occurs over a period of time, and for some of us, it can take a few years to get over our learned habits of being anxious, depressed, or of avoiding the negative through substance abuse. While it all takes time, it's time well spent, as you become more efficient in your working hours and you end up with a sounder sense of values and a longer and healthier life.

Musicians, like everyone, have the idea that they do not have much time. However, you can walk mindfully from your public transport stop, or your car, to wherever your job or class is. Everyone has time to do that. By doing so, you interrupt a series of automatic thoughts where you are either dwelling on the past or over-planning the future.

Mindfully planning your day, so that it fits with your values, will also help a lot!

Mind Games: Dorcas Lim

‘You will never make it … ‘it’ doesn’t exist for an artist.’ – Joyce DiDonato

I remember myself as a third year classical voice student completing the final semester of 2016. I was eager to finish off the year; the finish line was so close yet so far. I was focused. Even though I may have needed a break, my eyes were fixed on the destination.

Looking back, boy was I ignorant! I did get a break. But it came much earlier then expected (in the middle of semester) in a form that I least expected (severe cold and virus infection). A minor setback as one would imagine. But nonetheless, I was a singer without a voice, unable to even phonate. In retrospect, I now understand the importance of those three weeks, and would like to share very important lessons I learnt from this valuable experience.

Singers! Your instrument is your BODY.

As I’ve learnt of the fragility of my vocal chords, I was reminded once again how holistic singing is as an art form. Our voices can easily be affected by: our mood of the day, what we ate, the state of the tensions in the body, mental health, stress levels, or even the height of the shoes we wear. The wellbeing of the body plays a critical role in singing and it is easy to forget that it is part of the instrument.

Keeping a healthy body can have many implications. It can mean not only going on vocal rest but also physically getting enough sleep to recuperate. It means not only ensuring good mental health but also doing vocal warm downs after an intense period of singing. I encourage singers to refrain from deeming one aspect of your instrument more important than the others.

As an aspiring singer, there always seems to be so many aspects of the voice to work on. However, I have learnt the importance and skill of pacing myself and knowing the limits of my body. It is truly an important skill to have.

The importance of mental practice

I have always thought of athletes and musicians as very similar occupations. Both require a high level of skill and time dedicated to practice. It also requires performance of that skill and the performance anxiety that comes with it.

One thing that I found myself doing a lot during those three weeks was mental practice. Just as Olympians use mental imagery and visualization to rehearse for their performance, I did the same. Still being unable to phonate, I engaged my brain in mental visualization and practice. I went through phrase by phrase, imagining myself in detail of my upcoming performance in my dress, the audience, how I walked on the stage, deliver the pieces and successfully complete the performance.

Mental practice truly helped me in keeping my confidence up during that period of time. It also had a positive impact on my mental health and prepared a healthy mindset for when I was able to sing again. I will not know when the next cold or virus will attack, but when it comes I will be ready to practice!

It is about the journey

During that time I spent being overly focused on the destination, I was unhappy and was not enjoying myself during the process. I had forgotten why I do what I do and had lost passion for my instrument. Now, I realise that the journey of achieving that goal is far more important and valuable to a person’s character and attitude.

As I recall memories of my past performances or milestones, it is seldom the performance itself that comes to mind but rather the process of getting there: what I learnt, whom I worked with and the satisfaction of working towards a goal.

As you hit a dry patch during your journey, remember that there is no destination. We as artists are constantly evolving, creating new things and gaining new perspectives that will allow our learning journey to be a livelier, more positive one.

Get Moving: Looking After Your Body With Performance Medicine by Catherine Etty-Leal

Musicians often practice for long stretches of time without a break. What effect can this type of work have on your body long-term? Are there ways of preventing ongoing problems like RSI from early on?

Any activity that is performed repeatedly impacts the tissues in the body. This is where the term RSI (repetitive strain injury) came from as it is a result of just that - repetition. In the short term, aches and pains can develop in the muscles and joints and if they are rested appropriately, usually resolve quite quickly with little harm done. The more serious issues come about when there is little or no recovery time between sessions. The most common injury musicians see in this case is tendinopathy - where the tendon isn't coping with the load it is being asked to undertake and there is a maladaptive response to this in the tissues. The best way to prevent this is to be smart about your loading. If you know you need to do 6 hours of practice per day, can you arrange your schedule so that rather than doing 6 hours straight you are doing 3 blocks of 2 hours? This will give your body recovery time throughout the day and break up the loading. If that is not possible, make sure your set-up is optimal - check the height of your music stand, your positioning at the instrument, and your technique to name a few things. Finally, try to vary your repertoire within the session. For instance, if you are playing something fast paced that requires a lot of intensity, finish your session by playing other pieces that are slower or that require less intensity. This will mean that you are using your body differently within the session, thus providing a lot of variability in load for the tissues. Thinking more holistically, there has been countless research done on the sedentary nature of many occupations. Recent studies show that sitting for greater than 30 minutes can increase your risk of cardiovascular disease, obesity, stress, as well as reducing your life expectancy. The best way to reverse the effects of this is to take a 2-minute break every 30 minutes, where you get out of your chair and do something else.

When tired and/or sore at the end of a practice session, could musicians benefit from stretching or warming down in some way? How do you make this a habit?

In short, yes! Just like every practise session you warm yourself up to prepare your body and prepare your instrument, it is just as important to warm down. If you are sitting to play, it might be useful to do some spinal mobility exercises to counteract the effects sitting has on the body. As most instruments encourage a forward posture, lying on a foam roller on your back will counteract this and assist with opening up the front of the body. Using a hot pack on the neck can be effective in reducing neck stiffness, or you may find that ice on some joints in your arms may be relieving too. There may be other instrument specific things you want to do as part of this process. In terms of making this a habit, think about how you made your warm up a habit and apply the same principles. A cool down should take no longer than 5 minutes, so if time is an issue I would suggest finishing your session a few minutes early so you can include your cool down within this time period too.

If you absolutely have to cram the practice in, for example before examinations or important performances, what sort of measures should musicians take to keep their bodies fighting fit? Should diet and hydration be a consideration?

Sleep is one of the most important things to promote recovery in the body. The first thing you should do is make sure you are getting an adequate night's sleep. Understandably this is not always possible for many reasons, but do your best! Diet and exercise are also important factors to promote a healthy body. The body requires substances found in food like protein for muscle repair and development, calcium and magnesium for bone and muscle health, adequate water intake (8 glasses per day) for tissue health and hydration, as well as other vitamins and minerals. Eating well will give you more energy, and when we have more energy and are well rested we are more efficient, therefore you will be more productive in your practise sessions, so it is worth making time for good food. Green tea is a great one for tendon health too.

There is a lot of stigma around injury in the classical world, which can often lead to problems going untreated, making them a whole lot worse in the long run. If you think you might have an injury, what should you do?

The first thing you should do is see someone about it. Even if you don't have an 'injury' as such, but have pain or stiffness, it is important to get this managed so that it doesn't turn into something worse. A physiotherapist is a good person to start with because they have expert knowledge in the biomechanics and pathophysiology of the human body. If you have a physio who is familiar with performers and the demands of this industry even better, as they will be able to work with you to ensure the least amount of time possible away from your instrument. You will get the best result if you address a niggle early. Prevention is the best treatment so anything you can do to prevent one in the first place is ideal!

Is meditation or yoga beneficial for musicians to help develop healthy posture and good breath technique?

Things like yoga and Pilates can be very beneficial for musicians as they provide whole body conditioning and postural training. Pilates in particular can be useful because it can be tailored to suit the individual when they partake in clinical Pilates. In terms of breath technique, strengthening the pelvic floor and lower abdominal muscles will allow you to have more awareness of what these muscles are doing when you play or sing. These muscles assist with breath management and it is important that the musician has good awareness of these muscles to have good breathing technique. If taking a bigger breath is the issue, cardiovascular exercise will increase your lung volume. Swimming is a great one as when you blow against the water, a positive airway pressure is created, which helps to expand your airways. Bike riding, walking, jogging and other forms of aerobic exercise are also good to do.

When dealing with a non-music related injury that has affected how you play your instrument, how do you approach getting back into it?

Really the approach is the same as if you had a playing-related injury. Depending on the severity of the injury, a period of rest may be required. Of course, we would make every effort to ensure this rest period is as little as possible, but in some cases time away form playing is needed for tissue healing. Then it's all about a gradual return to playing. Sometimes splints and braces may be used to help with recovery and quite often strengthening exercises and stretches are used to help with preventing further injury.

Music and sport don't always get along, but swimming and working out is often recommended to music students. Is playing sport dangerous for musicians (who are really worried about their fingers!) or is that a myth?

It really depends on the sport. Things like swimming, running and gym work that are in a controlled environment where you can do it at your own pace are pretty low risk. Other contact sports like AFL come with a higher risk of injury to anyone because of the unpredictable nature. Ball sports like cricket carry with them an element of risk of injury to the hands purely because of the nature of the game. It is important that musicians exercise daily though as there are huge benefits to the body and mind, but also for your general health and well-being. Anything is better than nothing so if you're worried I'd stick to safer things like walking, swimming, light gym sessions and bike riding or jogging.

Singing is a bit different from other instruments, as the singers' body literally IS their instrument. Can you tell us about vocal unloading, and how that helps singers with their vocal maintenance?

Vocal unloading is a type of physiotherapy that acts as a neuromuscular cycle breaker to enhance the performance voice. Treatment often targets the myofascial and cartilaginous structures of the larynx and surrounding perilaryngeal region to produce efficient vocal fold vibration and voice production. It assists with voice retraining as it helps to break the 'maladaptive voice cycle' some singers often find themselves in. Voice is not just vocal fold vibration, but a complex coordination of systems and structures including breath, muscle tone and recruitment and posture. If you are experiencing vocal problems consistently it is important that you speak to your vocal coach about this. You may need a multidisciplinary approach to resolving these issues, which can include other specialities such as ENT surgeons, speech therapists/vocal coaches as well as physiotherapy. Even if you aren't experiencing vocal problems, remember that if you are a singer you are using your body in a similar way to any other athlete. Just like a footy player would have regular physio for maintenance and injury prevention, singers are in a similar situation and vocal unloading can help with maintaining your voice throughout your career.

Finally, all of us - musicians and otherwise - seem to have "text neck" these days. Do you have a recommended exercise for people stooping their neck over their music, instrument, mobile phone or computer screen right now?

Not so much an exercise, but there is a great app developed by an Australian physiotherapist to help with just this problem called "Text Neck". It is free to download and puts an alarm on your phone to go off when you are holding your phone in a position likely to compromise your head and neck posture. That brings me to my next point about posture - this is the best way to avoid problems like text neck (which is actually a formal diagnosis these days!). Make sure when you're using your computer, tablet, phone or instrument you set up yourself with good head and neck posture. If you do this the chance of developing any issues is much less and you will need to do fewer exercises all up... win win!

Listen Up: Hearing Protection For Musicians by Alison King

As a musician, your hearing is one of the tools of your trade. Just as it’s important to care for your musical instrument or your voice, it’s equally important to look after your hearing by taking steps to minimise the risk of noise-induced hearing loss.

Will noise injury cause complete deafness?

Noise injury won’t make you completely deaf, but because it affects hearing for high-frequency sounds (about 4 octaves above middle C), people with a noise-induced hearing loss often mishear soft consonants so they confuse similar-sounding words and start to have more difficulty listening in noisy situations. Music may not sound as rich as it does to someone with normal hearing because it is more difficult to hear all the harmonics. Sounds become more muffled.

I don’t play rock & roll, am I at risk for excessive noise exposure?

While the general public may associate hearing damage with rock and roll bands and teenagers using MP3 players, professional musicians of most genres can be exposed to significant sound levels during rehearsal and performance, and music teachers may also experience levels of exposure that potentially puts their hearing at risk.

How can I tell if my environment is too noisy?

If you have ever played in a loud concert or been to a noisy event and felt as though your ears were full of cotton wool afterwards, then you are likely to have experienced a temporary hearing loss caused by noise exposure. While your hearing may recover after a few hours or a day, if you repeat this experience on a regular basis, eventually your hearing will not return to normal levels. If you experience tinnitus (ringing in the ears) after a noisy event, this is also a warning that noise levels are too high.

As a rule of thumb, if you can’t hear someone a metre away when they talk to you in a normal voice, then the background noise is too high.

The risk of noise injury is related to both the level of noise exposure and length of time and how often you are exposed to it. The louder a noise is the shorter the time you can be exposed to it before your hearing is at risk.

So, how can I protect my hearing?

Try to limit excessive noise exposure during rehearsal and performance. Talk to your colleagues, conductor or band director about the preferred options. For instance,

Orchestral screens or shields can be used to reduce sound transmission and reflection
Use a sound level meter app to help you monitor noise levels. Try this article as a starting point
Take breaks to give your ears a rest.
Music teachers can reduce their risk in their teaching environment by minimising hard, reflective surfaces in the teaching environment. For example, thick curtains, carpets, drapes over whiteboards, metal cabinets and concrete walls and even home-made 3D relief art can absorb unwanted sound. Having quiet breaks between classes and reducing class sizes also helps.

Use specialist earplugs to protect your ears. While the typical earplugs you can buy in pharmacies reduce the overall noise level, they also change the balance of sound heard by the listener. This may be alright if you want to protect your ears while mowing the lawn or trying to sleep on an aeroplane, but this is not suitable for professionals who must be tuned to the finest nuances in their music. An audiologist can make you customised earplugs that contain special acoustic filters to reduce the noise level without affecting the sound quality. The filters come in several different strengths, depending upon the type of instrument played - for example, a drummer would use a stronger acoustic filter than someone who plays in a chamber orchestra. It can take a while to get used to the sensation of using earplugs, but it is worth persevering. The good news is that hearing scientists are aware of the challenges that musicians face when using earplugs and protecting their hearing and are continuously studying ways to improve them.

Limit your exposure to loud sounds in the non-musical part of your life. Noise exposure has a cumulative effect on your hearing, just as eating chocolate biscuits has a cumulative effect on your weight - one biscuit may be OK, six packets of biscuits could be bad news! Reducing noise exposure outside your professional environment reduces your overall noise dose.

Keep your personal stereo volume at moderate levels - use the “conversation at one metre” rule of thumb to check if your MP3 player is too loud. If you’re turning up the volume so that you can hear your favourite music over the noise of the train or traffic, consider using noise-cancelling headphones. Use hearing protection when you do noisy activities like mowing the lawn, taking a spin class or using power tools. Use your earplugs if you go to dance clubs or live music venues. If you aren’t wearing earplugs, take time away from the music periodically. Some venues have chill-out rooms for this purpose.

Where can I go for more information?

The Know Your Noise website, developed by the National Acoustic Laboratories and the HEARing Co-operative Research Centre has a wealth of information ranging from recommended sound measurement apps to advice for musicians and simulations of how hearing loss affects the quality of music. You can also do a free on-line hearing test.

If you’d like to get more personal advice from an audiologist, you can chat online or in person at Hearing Help. There is no cost or obligation for this service.

Australian Hearing has a wealth of information about hearing and hearing loss.

Alison King
Principal Audiologist, Australian Hearing

Music for David by Madi Chwasta

When I went to interview David Ross-Smith a few weeks ago, I thought it would be a chat about ‘Music for David’, a program which provides personalised playlists to dementia sufferers who are cared for at home. However, it became a remarkably honest reflection about his life as a musician and as a carer for his late partner of 38 years, The Reverend David Hodges, AM. Starting with piano at an early age, and eventually finding his “calling” in teaching and accompanying, David chatted about the things that so many young musicians still grapple with: anxiety and depression, the pressure to succeed, realising his sexuality, finding love, and the importance of music through all these milestones. Our chat also showed me how music can touch people in special and unexpected ways. Music was so important to David when caring for his partner when he suffered from dementia. It lead to the realisation of ‘Music for David’, which was created in memory of David Hodges after he passed away in 2012, and has since provided support for dementia patients and their carers since its inception. It’s a touching legacy, one which continues David Hodges’ generosity and dedication to the community, the church, and to music.

Tell me about ‘Music for David’.

When David was in the early stages of dementia, this was around 2005, he started putting down his thoughts about Christianity and the church. These thoughts became a book, which he titled ‘Making Love Real’. Because of his dementia, he didn’t complete the book. But his older daughter and I believed it should be published.

In 2010 we published the book and made it available for people to take at David’s Service of Thanksgiving in 2012. People could make a donation, and I stated that I wanted any money donated to go to Uniting AgeWell, the aged care division of the Uniting Church of Australia. About $780 was donated, which was to be used specifically for a dementia program. Eventually, a music program was developed to support people living with dementia at home and their carers. The program was called ‘Music for David’, in memory of my late partner David Hodges. What I didn’t hit on was that because I share his first name, the name ‘Music for David’ is a subtle way of acknowledging the role of the carer.

In the later stages of his life, David experienced “sundowner’s syndrome”, a common condition for people with dementia. As evening approached, David would become restless and anxious. I used to give him a little bit of medication to relax and put on familiar and gentle music. I would then use that time, which would only be about ten minutes, to go for a brief walk. That time out was very important.

That’s what the whole ‘Music for David’ ethos is. To support the person with dementia, but also to support the carer. Music relaxed David, but also gave me time out from my role as a carer.

Did you come across the idea to use music by yourself?

Yes I did. Being a musician, I’m aware of the therapeutic effects of music. I put on music that had some appeal for him. Sometimes I put on hymns, as they are an important part of the Christian Protestant service. But sometimes the hymns would make him a bit upset because it would bring back memories of times past, as he was a wonderful minister of the church. Often I played Mozart, particularly the second movement of the Clarinet Concerto.

Did it have particular significance to him?

No, he didn’t know the piece well, but he responded to the beauty of the music. He also loved Elgar, especially Nimrod from the Enigma Variations. It was that sort of music that had a deep emotion, or a calming effect, gentleness. I would never play anything that was loud or percussive!

So let’s backtrack a bit. When did you start your journey in music?

I spent the first 17 years of my life in Ballarat, and I showed fairly prodigious musical talent when I was really young. I’m just recounting this, but I could hum tunes at the age of 18 months.

That’s impressive!

Could be exaggerated, but that's what I was told! So I started having piano lessons just after I turned five from a local piano teacher. Apparently I was so excited about playing piano, I burst into tears at the first lesson!

Musically in Ballarat, I was a big fish in a small pond. I did quite well in local eisteddfods, but by nature I’m not a very competitive person, so I was always very nervous and uncomfortable in competitions. I played better in exams.

After high school, I went to the Melbourne Conservatorium, and got into Ormond College. However, I didn’t feel like the Conservatorium was a comfortable place to be.

Why?

I found it difficult to develop close friends there. I didn’t feel an affinity with most of the music students like I did with my non-music student friends in College.

I also became increasingly aware of my sexuality during my years at university, and as a result felt very isolated. In the mid-60s, homosexuality wasn’t really discussed. I thought I was a freak of nature, because all my friends were heterosexual. There was no openness. It was a different world.

I think that was another reason I didn’t spend much time at the Conservatorium. Maybe I thought there would be more of a chance I would be discovered as a young gay person.

Did anyone have any idea?

No. I was very good at hiding. I would hide behind a smile, or by being funny. In fact, I was depressed. I suffered serious bouts of insomnia. After I finished university in my early adult years, I went to a psychiatrist who diagnosed clinical depression.

At what point did you come to terms with your mental health and sexuality?

I came to terms with both things many years later. By the time David came into my life, I had gone to the psychiatrist, who had put me on massive doses of anti-depressants. Once I had gotten used to the side-effects, it helped with sleep and improved my mood. When David and I finally acknowledged that we loved each other, I flushed the drugs down the toilet.

Coming to terms with my sexuality was a slower process. Because David was the minister in one of the most prestigious churches in Australia, and I worked at Scotch College, we had to put our heads down. He retired from the ministry in 1983. It’s still sad for me to acknowledge the fact he retired prematurely, but he did work part-time in different ways. It made it easier for us to establish our life as a couple.

When he retired, and we wanted to develop a circle of friends, we decided to hold soiree’s in 1988. It was a way to entertain our heterosexual friends and our gay friends, by providing them with music and then drinks afterwards. The soiree’s still continue to this day. We are in our 29th year.

The soirees were your joint project?

That’s one of the reasons I keep them going now. One of the things that gives me a great deal of satisfaction is that people leave looking happier than when they arrive. That gives me enormous satisfaction. I think that’s where music is very important in people’s lives.

So in the end, what did you gain from your music degree?

The music degree opened the door for me to teach at Scotch College. That led directly to meeting David. I had been brought up in a church in Ballarat, and wanted to find a church in my area. The parents of the students at Scotch said I should visit Toorak Presbyterian Church (now Toorak Uniting Church) as there’s a wonderful minister there called David Hodges. I went to Toorak, and eventually David and I became partners. That’s a spin-off of my music degree!

I didn’t particularly enjoy my music degree. I did well, even though I was depressed. I was joint winner of the keyboard section at the ABC Instrumental and Vocal Competition State Finals (now known as the ABC Young Performer’s Award). I actually quite enjoyed the various stages because I was playing for a small group of adjudicators, but when I was selected to perform at the finals, which was a live broadcast, I was paralysed with fear. I didn’t play as well as I could have, but I played well enough.

Amazing!

My fear was having a memory lapse! However, after I won this, I virtually decided to give up any plan to pursue a career in music. I had the opportunity to go to the Royal College of Music in London on a scholarship. I didn’t go because I didn’t have the temperament or the security to be able to cope with the pressures of traveling overseas as a 21 year old. I knew I would not have coped.

Did you have the goal to become a concert pianist?

It was mostly expectation placed on me by others. And really, solo performing didn’t have a great deal of appeal for me. I preferred to be collaborative. But I used to organise concerts at Ormond College, and I developed my interest in accompaniment through playing for people at these college concerts.

That’s the area I should have been encouraged to pursue. I should have done a lot of work on Lieder, because the song repertoire appeals to me more than any other. I should have had the opportunity to work with singers and learn languages. I wasn’t self-aware enough to know what I needed.

Ideally, I should’ve had a mentor to talk about my performance anxiety. In my time, you were just expected to get on with it or fail.

Was there anyone talking about performance anxiety when you were at the Conservatorium?

No. It was a very cold institution. It lacked warmth and vitality. I don’t know if there were any people there who would have made themselves available for me to talk to.

How did you cope with the idea that you could’ve been a concert pianist, but you chose not to pursue it at all?

I ended up finding what I believe I’m suited to doing the most. I could’ve been a singer, but my teacher tried to get me to sing in a way that wasn’t natural for me, so my potential as a singer was thwarted. However, Melbourne Grammar needed a singing teacher, and even though I was very reluctant, I discovered teaching singing was something I really enjoyed. It combines my love for the human voice, my interest in accompanying, and the repertoire I love. I’m best suited as a teacher and encourager of others, while doing some playing from time to time. I think I have my life in a secure and happy balance that I would not have achieved if I pursued a career as a concert pianist.

Back to the years before David passed away. What was it like caring for David when he suffered from dementia?

It was a wonderful time. Although some people change with dementia, David remained basically the same from when he starting showing signs of the disease in 2005. He remained loving, trusting and gentle. Sure I got tired, and certainly I had fractured sleep getting up to him several times in the night. But for me, it was a privilege being his carer.

In early 2012, David had to go into hospital. After tests the doctors there recommended that palliative care should begin. He had forgotten he was beginning to die, and I reminded him. He then said “I trust you to do what you think is best.” A wonderful memory. I wanted to fulfil David's wish to die at home. During this whole process of dying, David remained trusting and loving and helped us all cope.

How does David’s memory live on?

The soirees are a part of his legacy. ‘Music for David’ is too. He had a great sense of service towards and care of others. The program is a community project, and David was a great believer of the church helping the community.

People who know me know of the very deep love we had for each other. Although he is not physically present, I still have a sense of his love. So I think in those ways, David’s memory lives on. He was a man of great vision and compassion for others. I am glad that these legacies exist.

Promoting Your Composition Work by Susan de Weger

Question:

Dear Susan, as a young, emerging composer about to complete my tertiary studies in Classical music, what strategies would you recommend for someone in my position to work towards promoting not only my individual compositional aspirations, but those of my generation? Particularly as we work and live in such a global world, what advice could you give in terms of create both an individual voice/image as an artists as well as one that references an Australian identity in the industry?

Answer:

Dear Writer,

Wow, what a wonderful question! I’m so pleased to hear that you are thinking about how to promote your unique artistic voice, and to support the voices of your colleagues. A positive mindset and willingness to build networks is super important to creating a sustainable career.

In order to promote your individual compositional aspirations, you and your work need an online home. Do you have a website? If not, how can the world find you?

Creating an online identity, or second self is an effective way to promote your work and develop a two-way relationship with your audience. As an active musician, it’s inevitable that information about you and your music will wind up in YouTube videos, a bio on a concert website or tagged photos on a colleague’s Facebook page. Connecting with your audience and growing your network in this way is valuable, but you will often have little to no control over the way this content is framed and presented. Creating and managing your own online portfolio puts the story back in your hands.

Importantly, creating a second self allows you to maintain a clear distinction between your personal and professional online content. I wrote a blog called “The Internet Is The New Phonebook” which talks about content and architecture for sites, but the most important consideration is that the site is reflective of YOU and your work. It drives me crazy when I read bios and websites that are bland and tell me nothing about the artist as a person. Have the self- belief and confidence to present the story of yourself, this is what builds a connection with the reader.

There’s a wonderful website by Dana Fonteaneau called The Wholehearted Musician and Dana has just released an incredible book “It's Not (JUST) About the Gig: A Musician's Guide to Creating the Mindset Which Leads to Career Success AND Fulfillment” I would highly recommend you dive into this book as it will help you to define your personal and professional values, which are the driving force behind the goals you set and the choices you make.

I firmly believe that this self-reflection is the only way to understand WHO you are, WHAT you want and HOW to achieve your goals. Your individual voice and life/career plan can only develop from knowing WHY music matters to you.

You asked about referencing an Australian identity, I think this only matters if your work is directly influenced by something specifically Australian such as our landscape or geography. Just being an Australian citizen is not unique or unusual, but if we can hear in your work the sounds of our oceans, the calls of our birds or the colours of our big sky then that is interesting and becomes a point of interest in all your written materials.

So having worked out the why, who, and what you need to look at the HOW, how can your voice be heard.

I think that collaborating with other composers and performers is tremendously valuable, can you pool resources to stage performances of your work? Can you share links to your sites and socials? Can you do this with the compositional staff at your music school, who may have an established following interested in new music.

Can you collaborate with emerging musicians who share a similar outlook so as their career and profile builds, so does yours as their composer in residence? Who are the “most likely” performers in your school to create their own ensembles, can you connect with them? Many established new music ensembles are keen to support emerging talent; can you get an introduction to them through the composition staff at your music school?

Who has a career that you aspire to, can you follow their path, or can you connect with them to build a mentoring relationship? Again, many established performers are passionate about supporting emerging talent and sometimes it just takes an introduction to build a valuable and rewarding professional relationship for you both. Don’t just limit yourself to composers, or even musicians, find an individual who is inspirational and interested in you and your work.

You have mentioned that we live in a global world, and you are right, but I believe that you are surrounded by your most important audience. Meaningful connections are made in person, not through a website or a youtube video. In order to reach your audience, it’s crucial to define and identify who they are now and who they could be in the future. Who will buy tickets to your performances, who will follow you online and who will share your work with their network? By clearly defining these groups you can create strategies to develop a committed and engaged audience and communicate with them effectively. It is helpful to break down your target audience into three distinct groups.

Immediate

Your immediate audience includes family, friends and colleagues. It is easy to take this group for granted, but they are extremely important, especially when you are starting out. Numbers matter when you are booking your first gigs, and these people will make a strong foundation for your audience.

Aspirational

This is the audience you would like to reach and includes people who support similar artists, frequent the venues you perform in or know someone who is already in your immediate circle. A great first step is to develop collaborations with artists that have a core audience you would like to engage. Cultivating this group is important as this audience can grow substantially as your reputation develops.

Surprise

What about engaging with non-traditional or unexpected audiences. Embrace new venues and consider performing at open mic nights, bars and cafes. Creating new collaborations with arts organisations in the visual arts, electronic music, dance or physical theatre as these can be a great way of connecting with a new, untapped group of people who might be interested in your work.

Above all, it’s crucial to get to know your audience—find out who they are, what they like, where they go to get information about events, where they spend most of their time online, and what habits or attitudes they share. This will help you craft a strategy for staying in touch with your audience in between performances and determine what kind of information will be most relevant to share.

So, now you’ve spent 10 minutes reading this (and thanks for your attention), go buy Dana’s book and devour it.

Please keep in touch and thanks for writing in!

Cheers,

Susan.

Taking Your Time by Saul Lewis

Question:

I'm a third year brass student at the Melbourne Conservatorium. How do you stay motivated to work on something in your basic setup like the turnaround of breathing in to breathing out? It is such an important part of all playing, that it is tricky to move forward if I can't get the turn around how I want. When do you decide to move on when you cant work through things and come back to them later?

Answer:

Whilst some problems can be resolved, many factors in searching for excellence are things that need constant work over many years. Think about incorporating work on the problem into your daily routine rather than having the idea you can fix it.

As far as the problem itself, consider the idea of movement of air as being circular. This will get you away from feeling a stopping point at either end of the breath and hopefully smooth things out for you. Good luck!

Focusing on Deliberate Practice by Josephine Vains


Question:

Hi Josephine, at the moment I'm feeling like I'm doing heaps of practice but not getting as much out of it as I want or need to. I have some big goals, like an upcoming audition and some orchestral work, but I think maybe I need to focus on some smaller goals? Do you have some tips on how to get more out of my practice session? Thanks!

Answer:

This is a common problem for not just students but professionals as well. I guess it’s wise to consider that you might be getting more out of your current practice regime than you think – improvement can be quite a slow and incremental thing. A good teacher should be able to show you some practice techniques in your lesson.

But if you’re on your own then I would suggest one approach would be to video yourself performing your repertoire or excerpts or whatever you’re preparing to perform. I use my iPad, but a phone can work. Review it straight away with a critical ear AND eye. Get a pen and paper and make three main points about the most glaring things with a positive statement for improvement , i.e. 1. I look too serious – next time I will show off more and look away from the instrument. 2. Intonation is bad in 5th position - I will practise 20-30 minutes on those key areas using playful and improvising techniques to solve the problem. 3. My dynamic range is not what I thought it was – next time I will focus on the extremes of dynamic range by making the pianos softer and fortes louder (you can highlight these in your music in colour, even if you perform by memory, still you need to use your eyes to reconnect with the score during practice).

Some of the quickest improvement I’ve seen in my own students comes when they see themselves play – they immediately digest what it is I might have been saying, and after the initial reaction (“I hate watching myself play!”) they see the challenge in trying to improve themselves with better focus and goals.

I am a big proponent of Deliberate Practice. Here’s a link to get you started. http://www.bulletproofmusician.com/how-many-hours-a-day-should-you-practice/

The Path to Conducting by Benjamin Northey

Question:
Hi Ben!

I am an aspiring conductor who would love to ask you some things about your path to conducting.

I am an 18yo first year university student, studying a Bachelor of Science and a Diploma of Music (with Clarinet as my main instrument) at the Melbourne Conservatorium. Don't let this put you off - I am extremely passionate about music, both clarinet performance, conducting and the study of musicology, but I also enjoy science too!

To date, my conducting experience has consisted of:

Some lessons from Dr John Lynch
Co-Musical Director of two musicals with a community theatre group
The MYM Summer Conducting masterclass, with Luke Dollman this year - I believe you were a part of this a few years ago?

I am hoping to have further opportunities with various ensembles, including musical orchestra pits and larger ensembles over the course of this year (and in the coming years as well).

My main question is, what advice can you give about the path from where I am now to perhaps being a professional ensemble conductor (such as your position now), or an MD for theatre (not sure about your experience in this - just thought I would ask anyway!)?

What things should I do to get better in the short term and long term? How should I go about gaining experience (the age old conducting question!)? How should I stagger my learning across the next few years? If I wanted to study in Europe at some point and had the drive and passion to do so, at what age and how much experience should one have to attempt this? Is it worth having a weekly teacher - or are staggered masterclasses better?

What other advice can you offer to help me follow the path to being a professional conductor?

Oh, and one last question. I am very interested in watching rehearsals with professional orchestras, such as the MSO. Are there any opportunities for this? I am extremely interested in good rehearsal technique, as well as seeing good conducting technique up close.

Thank you in advance!

Answer:
Thanks for the question and good to hear of your passion for music. Also good to see you have pursued some conducting opportunities. Sounds like you have had some valuable experience already.

In terms of pathways the main thing is to develop your musicianship at this stage. The best thing I ever did was to have a long career as an instrumentalist before I got into conducting. By the time I decided to pursue studies I was a well rounded musician and that has been a blessing for me.

I would still take every opportunity you can to be in front of an ensemble, whatever the project. This is the best learning tool you can find. Regarding the MT world piano skills I think are essential. Most MD's seem to come from that position, also arranging music is a valuable skill.

You should play a 2nd instrument, a stringed instrument if possible. So much to learn there.

Master classes are excellent opportunities for learning repertoire and having exposure to excellent teachers. Luke Dollman is terrific so I would do that course again for sure.

Tertiary studies are on offer internationally. I personally would do your undergrad here and build experience first.

Practice your transpositions, clef reading and analysis skills. Also as much music history as possible. Watch rehearsals. I can of course have you as a guest at MSO anytime.

Keep me posted!

Incorporating Electronic Music in Your Classical Practice by Christopher Steller

Question:

Dear Christopher,

I am a classically-trained pianist currently studying at St. Petersburg Conservatory, however, I am hugely interested in electronic music - especially with lots of friends (who are also classically-trained musicians) in Germany and England as well as in Australia who are currently creating there own music from their laptops with Logic and a few samples of real instruments.

I wanted to ask:

Your opinion on recent developments in electronic music as a genre - dance music as well as more experimental 'sound design' projects?
The best way you think it would be for me to integrate my classical music experience with my passion and interest for the genre. The teachers at the conservatory are, as I'm sure you can imagine, very conservative and traditional as far as classical music goes so I haven't found much space for my passion for electronic music.
The best way to learn more about sound production in general?
Answer:

Hi there!

Electronic music is an extremely diverse genre. Modern electronic, which would include producers using Maschine, Ableton, etc, I would categorise as EDM. Software based loops and beats are accessible to the masses and the music created is indicative, in my opinion. It is difficult to find something really outstanding. For me, Tipper is a genuine standout: creative rhythmically.

Old school electronic, which began with Kraftwerk (the fathers of EDM), Tangerine Dream, Roger Powell (synthesist for Todd Rundgren, demonstrator for Moog and ARP), Larry Fast (synthesist for Peter Gabriel and Synergy), and their like, were the pioneers of electronic, working as experimenters and clinicians for the main manufacturers, and pushing the instruments to their limits in performance, soundtrack work, etc. The resurgence of modular synthesisers has been responsible for the return of this style.

Sound design style audio experiments amount to personal taste - I hear a lot of synthesiser pieces, and they can leave me cold, whereas others that blend sounds musically stay in my mind long after the performance has ended.

My advice is to get a feel for the styles that excite you the most, and listen to how other classically trained musicians have broken out of the traditional mindset. I love to hear the blending of genres, and I admire those composers the most - listen to the music coming out of Iceland, such as Bjork (amazing productions), or more importantly, Olafur Arnalds. His blend of traditional and electronic, for me, is perfect. Piano, voice, violin, cello, synthesiser and drum machine/loops. Very clever and very beautiful. In YouTube search this clip:Ólafur Arnalds - Old Skin (Buzzsession)

Reading on-line blogs from CDM (create digital music), watching YouTube 'how-to' videos by SFLOGICNINJA (San Francisco Logic Ninja) or others (just google Logic videos) and experimenting with sounds, samples, loops. These experts show some great techniques, which I find a real inspiration to get the ideas rolling. I often learn a ’new trick’, then build an entire piece around it, making it my own.

I would like to work more with vocalists, sampling and manipulating words and syllables into new ideas.

The most important thing to remember is apply your own knowledge and experience to the projects you take on. Don't just be another “producer”."

Tonguing Tips for Woodwind Players by Ben Opie

Question:

Hi Ben, I'm wondering if you have any tips for tonguing. I feel like my tongue is quite sluggish and never does exactly what I tell it to do! I've avoided telling my teacher about it since she lets me choose a lot of the music I do, so I just choose music that doesn't have that much tonguing in it! (I'm in Year 11). I've heard about double tonguing, but maybe that's a bit advanced? Thanks!

Answer:

When you're thinking about articulation and tonguing, remember that the tongue has muscles in it. So we need to train those muscles and learn how to use them as efficiently as possible.

My advice with any sort of practice where you're developing a technique is to set yourself some goals - with this one, you can do something as easy as playing your scales at a certain metronome marking (say 4 notes at crotchet = 60 as an example) and then tell yourself that every day for 2 weeks you'll increase the metronome by 1 or 2 notches. In 2 weeks you'll be tonguing around crotchet = 80 which is a dramatic increase! My rule for this sort of thing is I have to get it right 3 times in a row before I can increase the metronome marking!

The other thing to know is that articulation actually has a lot to do with air, so just be aware of how fast you're blowing while you're working on this and experiment a bit.

I think you're right with that for now, we can leave double tonguing. Once you are tonguing 4 notes at around crotchet = 130 or 140 we can move on to double tonguing.

Thoughts from oboe-wan-benopie

International Opportunities for Singers by Jacqueline Dark

Question:

I am a semi-professional opera singer (soprano) and am 27 years old. I currently work in Brisbane but am saving to make a venture overseas in a year or two. One of my goals is to go to New York and also live and work in Italy. What would you suggest is a good way to do this? Also preparing for auditions, what is the best things I can do to put be in the best light for hiring?

Answer:

Hi there!

It’s hard to answer without knowing your background and whether you have a specific coach/teacher in mind overseas.

My first question would be the rationale behind the travel. Italy sounds fabulous – you could enroll in an intensive language course and immerse yourself in the sounds and the culture – people who have lived in foreign countries often sing with greater nuance in the language, so it’s a great idea to live and work there for a while.

NY has some wonderful coaches, of course, but so does Australia, and I feel that often young singers travel overseas to study at great expense without realizing that we have some of the best coaches in the world right here. Of course, if you have family there or a contact or coach you’re keen to work with on specific repertoire, then that’s understandable.

Before you travel, I would strongly suggest that you chat with singers who have spent time in the areas you’re looking at, to suss out the pros and cons and the best studios/language centre/place to base yourself. Actual knowledge from someone who has been through it is invaluable and can save you so much time, and also cut out any ‘trial and error’ in choosing where to live and who to study with. This will be your most valuable source of first-hand information. Also, Google any coaches you’re considering and see who they’ve worked with, and if these are singers whose voices you admire. The proof is often in the pudding (not always), so if they’re producing a line of great singers, you will most probably be in good hands. I would also suggest having a very good idea of your own voice and instinct for what works for you technically before working with multiple teachers, as then you can extract the best bits from each and choose the advice that really works for you, rather than being completely confused and becoming a bit vocally ‘muddled’ trying to be the servant of too many masters.

I’d try applying for all of the possible scholarships on offer – Australia Council, Churchill Scholarship, or many of the ones that exist for specific voice types.

If you’re a dramatic soprano, you could apply for the Elizabeth Connell Prize:

https://www.facebook.com/590622567672012/photos/a.590626204338315.1073741828.590622567672012/1024077064326558/?type=3&theater

If you’re bel canto, the Sutherland and Bonynge Bel Canto Award:

https://www.facebook.com/133656173358490/photos/a.142313682492739.26874.133656173358490/1078614955529269/?type=3&theater

There are many others – it’s worth a search, as they may make an enormous difference. As we all know, singing lessons are not cheap!

Another option is to wrangle all of your performing friends together for a fund-raising concert. These are great fun and you usually find that people are very willing to help you in your cause, from singers and musicians to venues donating a room.

Now, onto the audition question.

The major things I would look for when on an audition panel would be:

Secure vocal technique and great tone. Voice. First and foremost. Coach those arias (and your voice in general) comprehensively with a great teacher to iron out any technical issues. This will make you sound your best and also give you much more confidence.

Language skills. Make sure you run EVERYTHING with a language coach. Bad pronunciation will do you no favours, and good pronunciation adds so much to the flavour of an aria – use it to your advantage.

Character. “Did they capture the character of the piece/was the acting appropriate?” Make sure you know the story of the whole opera and where your aria fits in, and also the translation of every single word. Treat an audition like a performance and inhabit the character as completely as you can whilst maintaining great vocals!

Presentation. Don’t wear a ball dress, but don’t turn up in jeans. Unless the character would.

Suitability of repertoire. Do NOT sing an aria unless you’re ready for it. You’re better to sing something a bit simpler immaculately than sing something too early and struggle with it. Choose arias that show all of your strengths and have a wide variety of styles. Preferably choose an aria from a role that you could feasibly sing in its entirety. Choose arias you love singing and know you can nail – an audition is rarely the place to try out new, tricky, unrehearsed repertoire.

Attitude. “Does the singer seem amiable and do they seem to love what they’re doing?” I know it sounds trivial, but it really does make a difference if you go in with a positive attitude and a smile.

Accompaniment. Check who the pianist is for the audition and whether they can cope with the technical demands of the piece. Not every audition pianist can play Strauss, for example, and there are so many orchestral cues you need to pull off those arias to a high standard that a struggling pianist can throw you off your game completely. If you’re singing something you know is hard to play, send the music through to the pianist EARLY so that they have a chance to look at it and get back to you if it’s not possible for them to play (they may be a brilliant pianist but just not have time to practice a difficult piece). Bring your own accompanist if possible, especially if you don’t know anything about the ones available.

Rehearse the audition. I would try to run the pieces you’re going to sing under ‘audition conditions’. If you’re used to singing in a rehearsal room, invite some folk in to listen and treat it as a recital. Get a bigger room if you can. Give yourself a little bit of performance pressure and see what works/falls apart – then you know what to work on.

Check out the auditioner. Sometimes, it’s worth doing some detective work on the company/agent you’re auditioning for. What they specialize in, what their preferences are, what kind of people they regularly employ. Tailor your audition to suit them if possible (eg: don’t audition for a baroque specialist company singing Wagner!).

Well-rehearsed pieces with confident performance. Walk into the room with your head high and greet the panel, even if you feel horribly nervous. Your entrance matters. You are being auditioned from the moment you step into that room (and sometimes even before). Stand tall and take a deep breath. If you’ve done all of the above, be confident that you’ve done your very best to prepare for this audition and then just let yourself fly. Whatever happens, happens, and at least you know you gave yourself the best chance.

I wish you luck in your singing future and hope that some of this helps a little!

Cheers,

Jacqui

Mixing For A Musical by Christopher Steller

Question:

I'm using a Behringer X32 with digital stage box for mixing a live band in a musical. I was wondering if you knew the best way to sub mix the 7-8 drum kit inputs to one or two faders to make it easier to mix with the rest of the band and then do the same for the band. This way when mixing the show I will only have to deal with one bank of faders, not two?
Thanks in advance.

Answer:

The traditional method of handling drum inputs is to assign all of of your drum channels to a stereo group. When you've set up all of your volumes, panning and EQ settings, you can assign each of these channels to the stereo group, and control overall level of the kit with a fader.

I'm not an X-32 user so the button pushing steps are not in my memory banks.

If you have problems with setup, jump across to the Behringer Wiki:

http://behringerwiki.music-group.com/index.php?title=X32_PRODUCER%3A_Mix_Buses,_Sub_Groups_and_DCA_Groups

I hope this helps.

An Intro To Composition Competitions by Stefan Cassomenos

Question:

Hi Stefan. In regards to composition, are there any competitions or ways to get music 'out there' that would be very beneficial for a university student?

Answer:

Hi there, and thanks for your question. The simple answer is yes – there are dozens of composition prizes available worldwide. There are also many different ways of getting one’s music out there. I can try to answer your question in some detail, but only in reference to my own particular set of experiences.

I had some lucky success as a kid and in my early teens with national composition competitions for young composers. I was almost always entering with music which I had already composed, and which I’d usually already performed a few times, and which I had often had the opportunity to rethink and refine.

Then, in my late teens, I became aware of the sheer number of competitions there were around the world, and I used to spend hours in front of the computer, looking them all up and systematically listing the requirements, with very grand plans of entering as many of them as I could.

My plan involved writing brand new music for each competition. I tried this method for two or three years, but it would always take me far too long to compose. I think I only ever managed to enter two or three, without any success. I realised that I wasn’t getting any faster at writing music (even with all of that prize money as an incentive!!) and more importantly, the music I was writing wasn’t getting any better either.

Then in my early twenties, I made a major discovery – I realised that I would much rather be a better composer than a more famous/rich composer. I realised that the only way I’d become a better composer was to improve my craft, so that I could give my musical and expressive ideas the very best compositional treatment. I realised that the only way to improve my craft was to practice writing music well – meaning properly – and that for me, this took a great deal of time. I also realised that I wanted to write music primarily for my own enjoyment (and also maybe a bit for the enjoyment of others… but mostly just me.) Since that discovery, I try to make sure that I only write music if the following prerequisites apply:

– there are original ideas of mine which I like and which I think are worth being heard

– there is something I strongly want to express with those ideas

– it is either certain or extremely likely that the music will be performed

– there will be an opportunity for me to compose and notate in adequate time

If these criteria aren’t satisfied, I’m afraid I don’t end up writing very good music, or enjoying the experience, and it ends up being an enormous waste of my time.

At the moment, it takes me around 18 to 24 months for my compositional ideas to form (including writing a draft short score and deciding on an instrumentation) – and then another 12 to 18 months to arrange or confirm the performance opportunity, as well as finalising the composition and notating the music.

Composing is a constant part of my life. Every week, I devote a little bit of time to my sketches. But my compositional ideas tend not to crystallise unless I have specific dates and performers in mind. I usually write music for my friends and colleagues. I don’t feel particularly motivated by the idea of getting my music 'out there’ – I haven’t actively promoted my music on Soundcloud or YouTube or any of the other wonderful resources that are now available for young composers. Maybe I should. But I guess I have limited time, and I'd rather spend the time writing music than promoting it.

If you want to get your music ‘out there’, then you have to first ask yourself, ‘out where?’ – because the internet is obviously somewhere your music can be heard, and if that is of interest to you, then I imagine the best way would be to direct people to hear your music Soundcloud, YouTube, even Facebook – and so on (or to just hope that they’ll stumble across it there.)

If you want to hear your music on the concert stage, then I think the best starting point is for performers to take an interest in performing your music – ideally, they should like it enough to want to program it in their concerts. So maybe think about fostering your relationships with performers, including those who are already your friends, and those who you’re yet to meet. It certainly helps if you’re a performer yourself, but if you’re not, you can always meet performers at their concerts – if you enjoyed their playing, then go up to them after the concert, let them know you liked their playing, and introduce yourself.

If you like the way somebody plays, and you can imagine them playing your music, then either tell them that you’d like to write some music for them, or just go ahead and write a piece for them and email it to them. They may not reply immediately – it may take them months or years before they find the time to learn your music, get to know it, understand it, and eventually to choose to program it in concert.

I have a huge pile of music, a bit like a wish list, which consists of music which I would like to learn, but don’t have time at the moment. Some of it has been given to me by composers, and some of it I have purchased. Occasionally, when I have a bit of spare time, I take something else from that pile, play through it again, and often I’ll decide to program something from that pile in a concert I have coming up, if I feel it would suit the occasion, and if have time to learn it properly.

It can also be helpful to direct your focus to ensembles with a particular interest in contemporary music, like my group PLEXUS. We are always looking for new music to premiere, and you can contact us through our website –www.plexuscollective.com – we receive lots of new music, and we’re very keen to support young composers in particular.

Good luck!

Getting Started in Music Administration by Susan de Weger

Question:

I'm a 20 year old violinist in my 3rd year Bachelor of Music at uni right now, and I'm interested in the different type of music administration career options I could pursue after study, but I don't know where the best place would be to start. Would you have any recommendations of any courses/workshop/career opportunities there are here in Melbourne?

Answer:

What a great question, it’s awesome to read that you are already thinking about your career options and looking to see what skills you will need to create career success. Go YOU! Music administration is a great option, it can be a flexible career allowing time and employer support for you to continue making music. You have a few options, if you are serious about arts management as a professional career then further study to give you the skills required for advancement into management and then executive positions would be a good choice. UoM offers a Master of Arts and Cultural Management degree and there will be other post-graduation options that would be good pathways. For good advice on specific course pathways you can make an appointment to meet STOP1 as they have access to all the course information. If you are not at UoM your university will offer similar academic advice through their student centre.

In terms of fellowships, AYO offer Orchestral Management, Sound Production and Words About Music programs as part of National Music Camp and MSO offer a work experience program.

Volunteering is a brilliant way to get real world experience, and start to develop your networks. Why not choose a community arts organisation who work in your area of interest, maybe an orchestra or a musical theatre group or different arts discipline entirely, and email them with an introduction and offer to volunteer with the administration of this organisation. You never know what could happen! Work experience through volunteering or internship will be a great way to see if this is the right place for you and to work out what skills you will need to develop to meet the requirements of the industry.

How about as a starting point, you tackle a little exercise? Why don’t you have a go at writing a job application for your first job in arts management? There is an old listing here which would be a great template to start with. You can write a cover letter, fine tune your CV to highlight experience and skills that match the job description then prepare a response to the selection criteria that explains in detail how you have done the things they are asking for, or how you have the skills to do this. It takes time and practice to write good job applications, so making a start now while you don’t have the time pressure of a real deadline for a real job is a great exercise.

If you are a student at UoM, you can book an individual session with the new Entrepreneurship and Career Development program, called IgniteLab who can help you fine tune all your written content for job applications. Just email the link on the bottom of the page. For those not at UoM, your university careers program should also offer individual sessions where they can offer a similar service. If you are not currently studying, ask an adult who works in a professional job to read through your documentation and offer advice on content and layout. Make use of these really valuable resources. Good luck!

Getting Your Music Performed At Festivals by Susan de Weger

Question:

Hi Susan, I've recently completed undergrad composition studies and am preparing a few different works for different purposes. I was wondering, in regards to getting a work included as part of a festival:
A) how do you go about doing this at all? Do you find out who's programming and approach them directly about your work? Are there other avenues?
B) Say I arrange a recording of a work and release it, does that hurt my chances of getting that work included in a festival as its no longer unique to the festival?"
Thank you so much in advance for your answer!

Answer:

Great question. Firstly, congratulations on having completed your studies. Learning how to learn is a brilliant life skill and is an ability that will help you navigate career opportunities with confidence.

Before seeking opportunities to have your work programmed, I would suggest you invest time and energy into creating or updating your bio, headshots and website. This package of marketing content is called your professional deliverables. The first thing a festival director will do if interested in your work is to Google you, so take control of the story that they find. You can read some articles about strategies for this on my blog, Your Second Self: The Online Artist is an article about why it’s important to have an online presence for your work. What’s Your Story is a guide to creating great written content about yourself and The Internet Is The New Phone Book outlines the how and what of your online portfolio.

Now that you have a professional and up to date website that includes a list of your compositions and sound or score samples, you can feel confident in approaching festivals to schedule your pieces. I would suggest looking at the festival website to see who is listed as the artistic staff, administrative staff and featured ensembles. Do you have any contact with these individuals or do you know someone who may know them. Perhaps one of your university lecturers is connected, perhaps a group of musicians you know has performed at the festival in previous years. You could ask your contact for an email introduction to the festival contact on your behalf. There is a long lead time for programming, bear in mind that the festival may have 2 years of programming already committed so there may not be opportunities for some time. Don’t lose heart if the festival organisers show little interest, or fail to reply. Sadly this is all too common.

It is difficult for all composers and performers at the start of their career to find great performance opportunities, if established festivals are not providing an outlet, you could team up with fellow performers and create a concert of your compositions or work with a fellow composer and make it a double bill of original works. This would give you the chance to record your works being performed live which is a really valuable marketing tool for the future. What about approaching your old high school and asking the Music Director if they would be interested in programming a piece of yours at one of their concerts?

The question about releasing recordings of pieces would be specific to each and every festival and each and every Artistic Director. There is no one answer to this, however I would suggest that having professional recordings of your work is a very good step forwards in your career, the process of coordinating a recording would be valuable learning experience and give you a great set of skills and contacts.

Good luck!

With thanks to Composers Michael Bakrnčev and Catherine Likhuta for their advice.

Getting Started In Accompaniment by Simon Bruckard

Question:

Dear Simon, I was wondering if you could provide some advice as to what I should focus on if I am aiming to be a professional accompanist and repetiteur in the future after my studies. I am currently studying piano at Monash University and I saw an opportunity for a repetiteur scholar with Melba Opera Trust, except that I am under the age limit specified so I could not audition for that. What other things can I do besides scholarship opportunities to increase my chances of success as an accompanist while being a student at the moment?

Answer:

"The best thing you can do is accompany absolutely everything you can. There will be lots of opportunities within the university community you can take advantage of. Contact the voice teachers at university and ask them if you can accompany their students in their lessons. That’s a great way to learn repertoire and you’ll be helping them out too.

Similarly, offer to accompany fellow students in their exams. This is a good way to earn some money as well. You could also approach composition students and offer to perform their works. This kind of thing you do while at university is very important because it builds up a network of industry contacts for the future as well as developing your skills.

It can also be good to accompany things like amateur musicals, university theatre projects and cabaret shows. I did shows at the Butterfly Club pretty much every week while I was at uni, which just about paid my rent for the whole time I was there, and was also a lot of fun.

Don’t worry about studying vocal repertoire yourself right now – just accompany people all the time and you’ll slowly build it up. Scholarships can be great too, but they are very high pressure and can be terrifying to audition for. I probably wouldn’t worry about that kind of program until after you finish uni and have a few more years experience behind you already. Accompanying is a skill you cannot learn practicing by yourself at home. You just have to throw yourself in, be pro-active and find those opportunities."

Staying Motivated During Summer Break by Saul Lewis

Question:

Hi Saul! Over Summer and between semesters, what is the best way to keep up motivation regarding practice? Is there a way you recommend that mixes things up, and keeps practice enjoyable when you are not necessarily working towards an "end goal" as such? Thanks!

Answer:

First of all, well done for asking such a good question! It’s great to have a plan for the year and do one’s best to achieve one’s goals which will often be recitals, technical exams, and other performances but can also include less defined goals like including improving one’s low register for example. The semester break is just as important a time to have a plan. In fact it could be argued that it is more important because it can really make a difference to the following semester in many ways. I am going to presume that you have worked very hard and it’s nice to celebrate the achievements of the semester and have a little bit of time away from the instrument. It’s great to sit down with your teacher and have a conversation about how the semester went, what worked well and what could have been done better. I often work with students in this way and we start exploring potential goals to think about for the year ahead. When you have some clarity regarding where you want to be at the end of the next semester it will give you a good idea as to how to approach the semester break. If you are going to perform a tiring recital then the semester break would need to include endurance work. If you were going to play a Mozart horn concerto for the first time, you might want to spend the break working on lip trills and so on.

I like that you have asked about motivation. As much as we love music and playing our instruments, the pressure of preparing for big performances and practicing hard all year can test all of us and make us lose touch momentarily with our passion for what we do. The break is a great time to rejuvenate ourselves for the year ahead. Getting some new solo music is often a great way to get excited again. Maybe playing for a different person, even someone that doesn’t play your instrument, can give you new ideas to work on during the break. Adding a new element to your routine or finally getting some free time to really sit calmly in the practice room and take the time to work through things you weren’t quite able to get on top of during the previous semester can be stimulating, rewarding and help enormously for the following year. I will pull out a study book and play things in different transpositions or up or down an octave to get the mind active and makes for a fun challenge. Grabbing a friend and having a movie and duet night or even going busking can help regain the feeling of freedom and joy in music-making. It’s also very good for your growth as a musician and performer to listen to new repertoire and to read about composers that inspire you or maybe a book about a sports person that has battled hard to achieve great things. Going to art exhibitions or the theater and thinking about how you want to improve as an artist and performer are all good ways to re-inspire you and help you grow at the same time. Travel can be very exciting and motivating, especially to places with a different culture to the one you are used to.

If you plan your break well you will enter the new year refreshed and ready for the challenges ahead!

Tension While Practicing by Philip Arkinstall

Question:

I play flute and have a recital exam coming up in a few weeks. Although I am happy with how I am going in my preparation, I am finding that I am tensing up a lot, particularly across my shoulders and upper back, as I try really hard to perfect my pieces. I think I developed the tensing habit from not using my air properly, which I am in the process of changing, but in the short term leading up to my exam, do you have any ways you warm up your body before playing, and/or exercises/suggestions to help? Thanks!

Answer:

You are certainly not alone in getting shoulder and back pain leading up to an important performance - every wind player I know spends time managing this problem either at some point in their lives or throughout. It's important to understand why this pain is occurring and without seeing you play in person that's tricky. However , there are some things to do that should help optimise how you feel physically and mentally .

Swimming is great for breathing and working/loosening your back muscles. Other exercise like running or cycling can sometimes be neglected during the lead up to a performance and this doesn't work for me personally - exercise relaxes the mind and usually helps you train your breathing to be better.

Expand the awareness you already have of the problem further. Is it the technical spots giving you stress? Play these passages many times slowly and really focus on staying loose and breathing fully and low. Alternate the technical passages with lyrical ones, repeat them all many times without thinking consciously about a result. Then play through your pieces 4 times - twice making yourself as tense physically as you can, exaggerating the stress, and then twice going to the polar opposite where you are totally relaxed. Now you have some awareness of how your playing alters and slightly more control over your state. Play them the next day angry, play them sad, play them happy - actively bring your emotions to each piece.

My last advice is to cut down on caffeine and eat some bananas on the day - these two suggestions should help you be calmer and hence more able to control your breathing!

Singing Musical Theatre And Opera by Jacqueline Dark

Question:

Will taking on professional work in music theatre as a young singer affect the way an opera company (such as Opera Australia) will view me? Or is any experience considered good experience? How do you handle transferring between the genres?

Answer:

I actually had a chat with my boss, Lyndon Terracini, about this when I was offered the Sound Of Music role. His perspective on it was that in this country, it is perfectly acceptable (and on occasions even encouraged) to perform in both opera and music theatre. There’s a happy crossover between the two genres and nobody judges you for performing in both styles. He did warn me that in other countries, this might not be the case, and that some international opera companies may not take a singer seriously if they’ve been performing in music theatre. It’s becoming MUCH more acceptable as many of the world’s major opera stars tackle crossover repertoire regularly (Bryn Terfel’s Sweeney Todd – WOW!). It’s always wise to carefully consider which roles you will perform at what time and make sure that you can reasonably switch from one to the other (vocally, dramatically, stamina-wise) in that time frame. I go straight into The Ring Cycle for Opera Australia after The Sound of Music and will make sure that I’m singing that through Fricka in the months leading up to Ring rehearsals, to get my stamina and ‘Wagner voice’ up. Mother Superior may get a bit louder in the last few months! I try to make sure I sing everything with a solid technique and get as much rest and drink as much water as possible during hectic times. I think if you’ve chosen your roles wisely and spaced them out cleverly, it’s not that much of a stretch to weave between music theatre and opera. Then again, I would never take on a serious belt role for 8 shows a week, as that’s not a style I could sustain in the long term without vocal fatigue. The Sound of Music and all of those classic musicals are sung in a very classical style, so it’s not a huge departure from opera.

Voice Teacher VS. Vocal Coach by Simon Bruckard

Question:

I'm in high school, and I'd like to pursue classical singing at university. I was told that it would be good to see a vocal coach to work on some of my pieces, which is what I'm doing with my teacher. What is the difference between a vocal coach and my teacher, and do I have to bring something different to the coach?

Answer:

As a general rule, a singing teachers main role is to teach you how to sing, as any other instrumental teacher teaches their student how to play their instrument. Of course, they also help you with all sorts of musical issues. Singers tend to go to vocal coaches to get guidance on pretty much anything else to do with their music that doesn’t involve singing technique, although the line is a little blurry sometimes …

Every vocal coach (or repetiteur) will have their own focus or individual skills, but in general they are piano players who specialise in vocal repertoire. They are often used to working with lots of different singers with all sorts of music, so may be able to offer a different perspective from your singing teacher. Many coaches specialise in certain repertoire or in language skills – often singers go to vocal coaches to sharpen their French, German or Italian before a performance.

It is also very useful for singers to work regularly with accompanists. In terms of repertoire, simply bring the pieces of music that you would like to improve, and that can be anything at all. If you know your French is a little dodgy, bring some French songs. If you’re preparing for an audition, bring your audition songs. Vocal coaches will always do their best to help you prepare for whatever’s coming up.

I would encourage you to try to work with as many coaches as you can. As with all teachers and musical collaborators, you will get more out of some coaches with some people than with others. I’m sure you’ll end up finding someone (or a few different coaches) that you like working with!

Creating Your Own Work by Jacqueline Dark

Question:

Does creating your own work help you generate more appeal from the major companies?

Answer:

I’ve been lucky that the interest and publicity generated by my cabaret and music theatre work has been very encouraging and actually ended up building my profile in general, so it’s been positive for my opera work. I love all three genres – opera, music theatre and cabaret – and don’t put one above the others. They all make VERY different demands on a performer, so be aware of that when you’re planning your schedule. I think creating your own work is a brilliant thing for any artist. Apart from being incredibly artistically satisfying and a massive opportunity to learn about yourself as an artist, it proves that you are proactive and enthusiastic, and can bring you to the attention of the major companies much more quickly than sitting around and waiting for an audition. Send invites to the folk you’d like to audition for – you never know, they might just show up!

Success As A Crossover Artist by Jacqueline Dark

Question:

After having completed my Bachelor of Music I am now faced with the challenge of making a career from singing. I am passionate about a variety of styles including Opera, Musical Theatre and Art Song. It is a highly competitive industry and I don't want to limit myself to pursuing a career as just an opera singer, or just a musical theatre artist. As someone who has successfully built a career as such a versatile performer, what advice do you have on being a successful crossover artist?

Answer:

Firstly, let me say that this is a brilliant attitude! There’s been a lot of chat recently in the industry about how nobody can just sit back and rely on being given regular opera or music theatre work – you have to be adaptable and versatile and create your own opportunities. I find this incredibly exciting, and it’s opened so many new doors for me, so you’re in a perfect mindspace to begin an exciting career! I think the secret in every genre is to choose roles that suit you. It’s brilliant to stretch yourself, but know your limits, and don’t agree to perform something (even if you LOVE it) that’s just not right for you or your voice. I started in music theatre, so have never felt the ‘great divide’ between musicals and opera, and love doing both. I think the best starting point is to look at every role in terms of what you can bring to it and how suitable it is for your voice and temperament. I would also mention that if you perform with a microphone for a while, don’t start to rely on it and alter your technique – it’s easy to get lazy when you have some ‘electrical assistance’ and you’ll regret it when you flip back into singing opera without mikes.

Working With Conductors by Benjamin Northey

Question:

As an opera singer I often work with conductors in different capacities- concert, semi-staged, full opera, rehearsals etc and wonder what advice you can give in terms of working well with a conductor and the collaboration to give the best depiction of the story or what you want to impart to an audience? Thank you!

Answer:

I think it is important to make sure you have had time with the conductor prior to the first rehearsal with the orchestra. Knowing who is leading and where is so important in the singer feeling well supported. Every voice is different so the more a conductor can hear of a singer the better the connection. Dramatically I think it's important to share ideas about the text and how it informs your interpretation so you are both on the same page. Also don't be afraid to ask for the accompaniment to be well balanced if you feel you are having to work too hard.

International Travel For Study by Philip Arkinstall

Question:

Hey Phil, as both a clarinetist and professional musician in general, what are your thoughts on international travel for study? Do you feel it's a necessity for students/aspiring musicians to travel as a part of their studies? Do you have any recommendations on places to go? Institutions to apply for? Or are we coming to a time where perhaps it is better to go and seek out a specific teacher, not necessarily a specific postgraduate program. Thanks!

Answer:

It's a good question that you ask. There are many reasons to consider studying abroad, perhaps specially as a post-grad, if you can scrape together the required funding.

In Berlin every second person seems to have an instrument strapped to their back, is on the way to play in or see a concert or, at the very least, has a firm respect for, knowledge of and opinion on classical music. Perhaps the AFL is the equivalent for us Aussies! (Victorians) When you're there you breathe it in and if that environment is in any way detrimental to you I'd be surprised!

As a French system clarinetist however you may feel better off visiting a city where they mostly play on the same clarinet (Germany and Austria play their own design of clarinet , quite different from the French). Switzerland, Italy and the UK each seem open to foreign students and whilst maybe not on par with Germany in terms of classical culture still have plenty to offer . The USA has many good music schools - I've just visited Colburn in LA where the students live on campus and have expert teachers, high competition and not much else to do besides strive for excellence.

All that may sound intimidating but I've heard from many international teachers how impressed they are at Australians' ability to learn quickly. Certainly going to a specific teacher either here or abroad will also work well if you really go all out with it. Commit totally to a program of learning and study and limit distractions. I hope this helps!

Preparing A Successful Audition by Philip Arkinstall

Question:

Hello, I'm a clarinetist at the Melbourne Conservatorium who has auditioned for AYO National Music Camp the last two years and been unsuccessful both times. Next year I'd really like to get into both AYO NMC and AISOI. What can I start doing now, before I know the what the excerpts for those auditions are, to be the most prepared for when I do get the excerpts and do the audition?

Answer:

The best way to put yourself in optimum readiness would include the following things; write to the symphony orchestras or find out somehow (through asking around some candidates perhaps) what their audition rep has been for the past 5 years . Spend the time to thoroughly learn how they all go, the tempi, listen to recordings and play them all the time . Once you feel solid then record each excerpt separately, listen back and record again this time trying to better your previous playing or fix something obvious you hadn't noticed while playing - that's a common problem for all of us. These steps take time and energy but will vastly improve your self-awareness. They should also help you to more quickly identify what needs attention the next time a set of audition excerpts comes through and furthermore you will have probably already learnt them! The key is to work on many excerpts as part of your daily practice routine - don't just work on 5 per semester , work on as many as you can starting today. I hope that's helpful!

Improving Your Sight Reading by Simon Bruckard

Question:

I'm a piano major looking to get into accompanying, but I'm worried that my sight reading skills aren't good enough. I learn music fast, but I find it hard to get through a piece I haven't seen before without stopping to correct. Is there anything I can do in my practice to improve this? Thank you

Answer:

That’s a great question. Sight reading is a really useful skill and certainly helps when you’re an accompanist. That said, you can still do a lot of work as an accompanist even without amazing sight reading skills. I’d encourage you to keep doing as much accompanying as you can with prepared music until you’re confident enough to sight read in rehearsals and performances. Many great accompanists will always request the music before rehearsals or coachings – it’s a completely acceptable thing to do.

There are a few pieces of advice I can give you to help practice sight reading, but the best way to improve is by playing music with other people. The temptation to stop and correct yourself is strongest when you’re practicing by yourself at home. As tough as it is, try to put yourself in as many situations as possible where you have no choice but to keep going.

Accompany as many choirs (amateur or professional) as you can, play rehearsals for amateur musicals, play cabaret shows, play in a jazz band, play for singing lessons, get some friends together and read through a trio – that is the best way to improve.

Here are a few exercises you can do at home to practice sight reading:

1. Learn to simplify and make peace with imperfection. Get a piece of music that has a clear melody and accompaniment. Play just the melody and the bass line, and leave out all the middle voices. Resist playing everything on the page. This is a hugely important skill, particularly when you start accompanying operas and concertos, where the orchestral reductions are not written for piano and you simply can’t play it all.

2. Play new music every single day. Grab a book of music you like and every day at the start of your practice play through one piece from start to finish without worrying about fingering, detail or making mistakes. I used to love doing this with Chopin nocturnes and waltzes. Bach inventions or preludes and fugues are great too, but it can be anything.

3. Play simple music with a metronome. Most of the accompanying you’ll do is a lot easier technically than your solo pieces so don’t feel like this is a cop out. If you make a mistake or stumble, skip a beat but find where you would be up to if it were conducted.

4. Play jazz and pop music! Jazz and pop are all about staying within a set groove. The drum kit is not going stop if you get lost, and there’s no rubato. I played hundreds of cabaret shows at the Butterfly Club and karaoke bars and that was the best training I did, and also the most fun. You learn to play what it should sound like rather than what’s on the page, and playing from chord charts teaches you to have a really good practical knowledge of music theory. Every classical musician should be able to read a chord chart – find a jazz teacher and you’ll be amazed how quickly your sight reading improves.

I hope some of this is useful. Don’t give up, it gets easier every day! The best thing about improving your sight reading is that you get to play so much new music all the time – I guarantee you’ll learn to love sight reading!

Accompanying Fees by Stefan Cassomenos

Question:

I'm a pianist recently graduated from an Honours degree in music performance. I've been accompanying with choirs with a predetermined hourly wage for rehearsals. However, I'm beginning to accompany AMEB exams too and am unsure how much to charge and how to structure my fee. Any advice?

Answer:

I would suggest charging an hourly rate that suits you – there are some guides on the VMTA website (which can be found here: http://vmta.org.au/VMTA-Recommended-Fees )

Bear in mind that this is a guide, and some people charge less, others charge more - particularly for higher grades, where the repertoire may be more involved.

So at $70 per hour (for example), you might have two half-hour rehearsals, plus a 15-minute exam with a mini-rehearsal beforehand. You would charge for 90 minutes, so $105 total.

Hope that helps!

Inspiration for Composition by Sally Whitwell

Question:

Hi Sally! What kind of process do you go through when finding inspiration for a new composition? I am trying to come up with ideas for my final comp folio, and I'm stuck. Is there anything you would recommend to get me out of this mental block? Thanks!

Answer:

Inspiration is an extremely personal thing, don't you think? What works for one doesn't necessarily work for all so I'm just going to tell you about what works for me.

1. Repetitive tasks/actions. If it's a nice day and I'm feeling stuck, I go for a walk in my neighbourhood. Let's just say i know the back streets around here really well now. If it's not a nice day, I either vacuum or wash the dishes by hand. There is something about doing an activity that doesn't require any intellectual effort that helps the ideas to just, bubble up, somehow.

2. Return to my notebooks. I always carry manuscript paper around with me and write down all ideas as they come to me, no matter how small, a three or four note motif, a single bar of rhythm, a line of text, a concept. It's become quite a nice storehouse of ideas for times like you mention. Basically, I just raid the proverbial cupboard.

3. Hang out with someone who inspires me, not necessarily a musician. Recently, I hung out with a scientist friend who's also a music lover. He's a neuroscientist and we got chatting about happiness and the neurotransmitters in your brain that make you feel good (dopamine, oxytocin, serotonin, endorphins). Suddenly I had a realisation these four chemicals could be the four movements of my massed choir + orchestra commission. The piece flowed out pretty easily after that!

I can't remember the exact quote but Julia Cameron once said something along these lines - Sometimes you shake the apple tree and you get oranges. So what are you going to do with them?

Conducting Skills For Composers by Benjamin Northey

Question:

I'm an aspiring film composer living in Melbourne. My first instrument is the drum kit, however I also play guitar, sax and piano to an intermediate level. I am currently studying a post grad dip. in orchestration (by correspondence) through the University of Chichester, UK, but also want to develop my conducting skills. I've recently been arranging music for the College Orchestra where I teach, and I run various ensembles there, however I'm not quite sure where to look to work on improving my conducting skills specifically. Any advice would be much appreciated. Thanks very much!

Answer:

Hi, and thanks for the question. There a few opportunities to hone conducting skills, but outside a full-blown tertiary course there are some short intensive courses out there. Melbourne Youth Music for example hold a conducting course as part of their annual summer school in January. Melbourne Symphony have some professional development classes, mainly for teachers, but I think they are open to a wide range of people. There is The Beat Starts Here run by Symphony Services International which is open to all and I took that this year. I’m sure there are other classes out there, but of course you are doing the right thing by conducting your own arrangements. There is no substitute for doing it! Make a video of some of these and send them in - I’d be happy to provide some feedback. All best with your composition too. Ben

Notation Software: The One For You by Christopher Steller

Question:

Not sure which program to buy for notation - do you recommend one in particular, or do they all do the same job?

Answer:

Which notation software?

It's a bit like buying a car: they all get you from A to B, but it's what you want to do along the way that matters.

If you are doing very basic pieces, Avid Sibelius First would suffice, with the opportunity to upgrade to the full version later. A cheap alternative.

If you are composing for small to large ensembles and want some more comprehensive features, with good sounds for playback, a nice mixing section, the ability to import and work to video, Notion 5 from Presonus would do the job nicely (they use a sound library sampled from the LSO). Very reasonably priced. I do like Notion’s ability to share with its iPad version, for notating or sight reading on the go.

If you are composing or arranging for an orchestra and your manuscript authenticity/accuracy is paramount, you probably need the full Sibelius or Make Music’s Finale - they offer a depth of features not found on cheaper alternatives, such as the ability to scan in music, and many more bells and whistles, with a price tag to match.

These software programmes all have trial versions, so download and test, consider prices, and read some on-line reviews. There are also comparison charts to check the difference in features between the Sibelius versions.

http://www.sibelius.com/products/sibelius_first/index.html

http://www.presonus.com/products/Notion-5

http://www.finalemusic.com

What To Practice When You're Not Practicing Repertoire by Monica Curro

Question:

I am hoping to attend the Melbourne Conservatorium of Music next year on violin, should my audition be successful, and the pieces I am playing are the same as my VCE Music program, so I'm feeling pretty confident with them. I'm worried about over practicing the rep though, between preparation for my exam and the audition, and I was wondering if there was any practice techniques, or technical studies that you think would be good to keep practicing technique without overdoing my pieces?

Answer:

Yes for sure! Carl Flesch scales and arpeggios every day if you don't do that already. Choose the keys that relate to your pieces and that will really back them up and make your pieces feel much easier, without feeling like you are playing them to death. I also like Schradieck every day - it's not too hard but very good for facility and feeling muscular. Like training for a race. Then you should listen to your pieces while looking at the score - the whole score, not just the violin part - there are so many different recordings on YouTube alone - and you may get some really good ideas of interpretation which could freshen them up too....it's very important to listen to the work as a whole and not just practise the violin part by itself. The piano part will have a great deal to do with how you should play your part. Good luck!

My Rehearsal Room: Tristan Entwistle

It's not a situation I expected to find myself in, stepping into the rehearsal room, walking past the singers towards the conductor's stand, and hoping that everything I studied in conducting 101 will come flooding back... Though conducting has always been an interest of mine, I'm much more at home on the other side of the podium. That however, is the nature of Operantics' work. Our young company is full of people stepping up to take on roles they haven't yet had the opportunity to explore, at every level; whether its first-time choristers, opera students taking on their first major role, or a design graduate building their first opera set.

As with so many musical endeavors, this particular project was born at the pub, when a tenor put down his beer and said "I wish someone would put on St Matthew". A few days, a few phone calls and a few coffees later, a plan was in the works. All we would need was fourteen soloists, a double choir, a double orchestra, a venue, a conductor, a publicity manager, an organ, someone to play it, a producer, scores, a schedule that everyone can commit to... It quickly became clear that this would be a much bigger undertaking than we had assumed. All of us would have to take on a little more work than expected, and for myself, that meant signing up to run our chorus rehearsals.

With only two orchestral rehearsals, time is at a premium. My job as chorusmaster is to make sure the chorus is as well prepared as possible, so that our time with Luke (our conductor) and the orchestra can be used for polishing, detailing, and making this a really nuanced performance. This can mean anything from note-bashing some of Bach's more fiendish harmonic twists, to rehearsing the same chorale at three different tempi, with four different interpretations of what exactly a "pause" entails, so the chorus is prepared for whatever comes. The scope of these rehearsals is incredibly broad. Our chorus is made up of singers with a huge range of experience. Some choristers are training as classical singers at the Conservatorium, some are dedicated hobbyists singing their third or fourth St Matthew, and others are singing Bach for the very first time, so each rehearsal is a mixture of detailed work, part learning, and a certain amount of "tips & tricks" on vocal technique. Keeping a balance in rehearsal can be difficult, even more so considering the mammoth size of the St Matthew Passion. With so much to cover, my biggest challenge is knowing when to move on, rather than letting myself get carried away in all of the exciting detail this work has to offer!

This kind of production really is a sink or swim affair for everyone involved. Both the creative team and performers are diving head first into a huge undertaking, with little to no room for error, given the timeframe we have. Every minute of rehearsal counts, and I have been blown away by the focus and hard work of our choristers. Many are coming to rehearsal straight from full time work, and the rest from full time study, so it can be a big ask to tack on an extra few hours of late-night rehearsal, particularly on a work as demanding as St Matthew. Where a standard choral mass will have five numbers, the St Matthew Passion has twenty five chorus numbers in part two alone. Granted, some of these numbers are no longer than nine bars, but those nine bars can pack a lot of complexity with an eight-voice, split choir making stretto, fugal-style entries, and moving quickly through multiple keys! Making sense of these parts can be a challenge, and no sooner have you gotten your head around what Bach's doing in a particular number, than it's over and you have to move on to something completely different! That being said, the payoff for all that work is wonderful. Unlike many other oratorios, the choir takes on a series of characters throughout the performance – they are Christ's disciples, they are the council of High Priests, they are the angry mob demanding Christ's blood; the music is as varied as it is dramatic, and the sound of the chorus going full pelt in eight parts for Sind Blitze, sind Donner is really something to behold.

This production certainly is a work of passion for us – almost everyone involved in this performance is a volunteer, giving up their time and effort to support the work of our charity partner, Sydney Care, and to create something beautiful. When we talk about the Passion of Christ, though, the word "passion" doesn't have the same meaning we understand today. Here, it literally means suffering. The connection makes sense – how many of us have suffered for a passionate love? Suffered for our art, even? Bach's setting of the St Matthew Passion truly evokes that suffering. As many times as the story of Christ's death has been put to music, from Handel's Messiah to Jesus Christ Superstar, I struggle to think of any setting that compares to the St Matthew Passion on an emotional level. The soprano aria, Aus Liebe will mein Heiland sterben, moves audiences to tears, and no sooner has its last note sounded, than you have a wrathful chorus demanding that Christ be crucified. Judas' betrayal and regret, Peter's fear, and indeed Christ's own humanity are so poignantly expressed, it is impossible not to be moved, regardless of what you believe.

As it's been said before, "Not all musicians believe in God, but they all believe in Bach".

My Rehearsal Room: Nikki Edgar by Clare Gorton

Clare Gorton: Your creative life is so busy at the moment with composition work and cello performance, both solo and with ensembles like Ensemble Density and Forest Collective. How do you balance these two facets of your creative life?

Nikki Edgar: Well, to be honest, I don’t know that I do it very well! I can only really focus on one thing at a time but I think I’ve found that I work most effectively when I have a number of things on the go and spend my creative time moving between the different tasks. Some weeks I focus most on preparing for performances but find I need to take a few days off to write a piece, or vice versa.

CG: Do you think one task takes up more time than the other?

NE: At the moment creating scores and lesson plans is definitely taking the most time, but actually that has been fantastic, because I have lots more performances coming up and I think I’ll be ready to throw myself into that whole heartedly.

CG: The scores you are creating are graphic, and they’re these beautiful interactive pieces of artwork. What does this medium mean to you?

NE: I’ve never really written traditionally notated music because I don’t really think in harmony, so it’s never made sense to me to do anything but graphic scores. I think putting more parameters on the scores I write would end up making the ideas to strict, and it is important for me that the performers I work with feel like they are free to explore. My scores are childlike in that way, I suppose.

CG: They’re not simplistic, they are just as complicated as they need to be.

NE: Absolutely! My scores are very engaging because they’re really bright and obvious but the more substantial goal is to make something that everyone can have an opinion on. I don’t need everything to specifically enjoy the works, but I do like making things that people can talk about.

CG: So the goal is more about making people feel things and those things might not necessarily be positive?

NE: Yeah! I’m interested in making music that doesn’t restrict the audience and allows them to explore their own thoughts, allowing the work to be the vessel. That’s the kind of music I find engaging. Hearing people’s opinions of my music helps develop my own interpretations and allows me to be inclusive and interactive with the people who are listening.

CG: Can you tell me about the improvisatory side of your work and your writing, and how that fits into the scores you’re writing?

NE: I like the idea of creating a situation that becomes a skeleton from which I (or another perform) can build upon, creating possibilities from that initial idea. I also try and take into account that you shouldn’t necessarily have to be a musician or a performing artist to be able to interpret the work; you just have to be creative and use my scores as a base platform to build whatever you feel works. Being visual has always helped me musically because it’s a way of understanding complex ideas in a more accessible way, I think.

CG: Finally, I’m interested in how you think about creative ideas that sit outside of your performative skills and how you developed them?

NE: For me, realising that tertiary institutions only cater to specific types of people was a real turning point. It’s easy when you’re in it to rely on people like your instrumental teacher to tell you exactly what you need to do, but it’s important to spend some time thinking about who you are creatively, and by extension, learn to value your own unique creativity. You can meet a lot of great people through the university system, but that’s not the be all and end all. Getting out into the world and seeing gigs and working hard to have your music heard? That’s the best long term plan.

Our Rehearsal Room: Briar String Quartet

I can’t think of many young musicians who wouldn’t be enticed by the idea of getting paid to stay up all night with their best friends and play chamber music. That being said, pulling off a crazy idea like that in front of half a million people is enough to make anyone think twice.

On Saturday the 17th of February at 7pm Briar String Quartet will be playing the first notes of an epic 12-hour performance at White Night Melbourne. To make things even more interesting we will be presenting our dusk to dawn performance on an awning high above the street level with the ultimate view of the city and the crowds below.

Flash back to October 2015 and I am standing in Melbourne International Airport about to board a flight to China with the Australian International Opera Company and my soon to be quartet members Navin and Georgia. Our experience playing together began in cramped hotels crowded around a bed using pillows, instrument cases, and mirrors as music stands. A few kind hotel managers allowed us to borrow their computers to print quartets by Dvorak, Beethoven, Schubert and whatever else we could find. It was Georgia who came up with the idea to continue on as a quartet once we returned to Australia. Three weeks rehearsing, performing, staying up all night talking, and roaming foreign cities was an amazing bonding experience, which unknowingly set us up with a lot of the qualities and knowledge necessary to co-exist as a quartet later on. Most importantly, it wouldn’t work if we weren’t friends to begin with. As far as we knew there was no step-by-step guide on how to create a successful chamber group, so everything we are now is thanks to the knowledge we sought, the audiences who loved us, and the risks we took. Which brings us back to now...

A performance of this magnitude is no easy feat to put together. For every hour we have spent in rehearsal, at least three have been spent purely on planning and logistics. To-do lists, spread sheets, and calendars have been my best friend and kept me sane for the most part. I have enjoyed every aspect of curating this special project, even the administration, because at the end of it all getting to perform and see it come to life is the best reward.

Choosing repertoire for this event has been incredibly liberating. We will be covering genres including Classical, Gypsy, Danish Folk, Contemporary, Romantic, Movie Themes, Jazz, Modern Folk, Minimalist, Russian Folk, Avant Garde, and Baroque. Included in the program are two works by the incredibly talented local composers Chris Perren and Troy Rogan. A number of our own compositions will also make an appearance, including a sweet Waltz written by Navin this past Valentine's day.

With the generous amount of time we were given we jumped at the opportunity to showcase the unique individuals in our quartet and their diverse musical interests. As well as quartets, we will be teaming up in duos and performing as soloists throughout the night. Navin is highlighting both his love of classical repertoire and new music by performing Bach and the popular contemporary composer Olafur Arnalds. Maxim's experience as a Suzuki teacher, composer, and classical violinist lead to his choice of classical violin repertoire. Georgia is currently undertaking her Masters degree at Monash University studying Hindemith's early sonatas for solo viola, which strongly influenced her choice in repertoire for White Night. As for myself, I have chosen to perform a set of covers and original songs for cello and voice.

As well as playing our instruments, each of us has a different role to play in the day-
to-day workings of the quartet. Every situation is different so naturally, a lot of talking and delegation also occurs. Our biggest strength is that everything is done DIY so we have complete control and flexibility over the direction of the group. Maxim is our leader and always arrives early to our rehearsals and gigs to set up the space. Georgia is our go-to girl for all things wedding related and is an exceptional arranger having produced a huge portion of our modern repertoire and White Night duets. Navin has been invaluable to the group not only for his playing and enthusiasm but also for his ability to network. I’m convinced he is the most easy-going person on the planet with an ability to make friends with everyone in the room. Most of my contribution aside from playing the cello has been related to marketing content and social media, including creating and designing our website, organising photo shoots, creating advertisements, and running our Instagram account. Having had not much experience online other than owning a Facebook account, it has been an insightful learning opportunity.

It takes every one of us with our unique skills and perspectives to make this work as a whole. I am incredibly proud of the work that has gone into this project and thankful for the support of the quartet and those who have helped on the sidelines. We couldn’t be more excited to be part of this iconic Melbourne event and to see what else unfolds for us over the year.

My Rehearsal Room: Max Riebl

It’s great to be back with the Australian Brandenburg Orchestra for this project, Thomas Tallis’ England. I have been working with the band for almost a decade, so I feel quite comfortable getting stuck into projects with them now. I’ve always loved working with Paul and this music is my absolute bread and butter, so it’s particularly exciting. At any given time, I’m preparing for six or seven upcoming concerts, so getting ready for this performance is part of a whole suite of work I’m currently doing - I usually have to get started learning music and preparing characters at least a month out, so it’s helpful that I have performed two of the solos I’ll be singing with the ABO before!

Most musicians have a bit of a window of downtime in January, which I really lapped up this year as a way to get a head start on all my music learning. My preparation is pretty similar across the board, with some adjustments depending on the project, but I always start off by sitting down at the piano and working with a metronome, then progress to smaller musical nuances and finally, get to the heart of the drama.

By the time I get into rehearsals with an orchestra, all those pieces are brought together, but I must admit that first rehearsal in front of all the musicians always makes me more nervous than the actual performance! You are standing up there eyeballing all of your colleagues and they know so much more about the music, so you want to be bang on the money. With an orchestra like the ABO, it’s a really beautiful experience and there is a special warmth between all the players. Paul is energetic and creative, and working with period instruments is such a treat for me. There is a real love for baroque music in Australia, I think, and the ABO fills a big space in the industry. It’s also great to see lots of smaller groups cropping up that are exploring Historically Informed Performance Practice and I think a lot of those organisations have been inspired, in part at least, by the ABO. There’s a broad demographic interested in Baroque performance and I think lots of young people are drawn to these scores because they’re so high-paced and fresh.

Working across a number of different musical genres has always been an important thing to me. I sing a lot of early music and classical music, but contemporary music is a big part of my work, and now I am very consciously looking for interesting ways to perform the music I love. I am really enjoying working on both Western Art Music and contemporary sounds together at the moment – not as a fusion, but as a pairing. I think working in different styles and listening to a broad range of music actually makes you a better musician. Having an understanding of pop has made me a little more relaxed on stage, because the most important thing is how you tell the story, rather than being completely perfect in your delivery. I try and infuse a bit of that philosophy in all my classical and baroque work now. Since working in a more contemporary way, I also feel more grounded; it’s funny how much things can change when you realise you don’t need to get so tense or overly serious. When you’re having a good time on stage, your audience has a good time too.

I try and make sure that when I walk on stage I’m super loose and comfortable, having done some proper stretching and breathing exercises in the moments before I go on. As I wait, I remind myself about the story of my character – the acting coaches I work with encourage me to think about putting whatever I’m performing, say, a baroque aria, into a modern context. This helps when I’m getting ready to deliver an authentic and empathetic retelling of a work. It’s important to not be too precious about how your day goes when you have a performance, though. I remember on the day I won the Australian Singing Competition, my car broke down while I was on my way to the final, and I walked in the door with 15 minutes to spare! I was so stressed but I had to buckle down and give it all I had, which taught me that you can’t control your entry onto the stage; it’s much more important to be able to rely on your preparation.

I was brought up in the choral tradition and discovered that I was a countertenor more or less on my own. It was natural then that I got more and more involved in Baroque and early music. I had CDs of Andreas Scholl growing up and hearing him sing made being a countertenor seem kind of cool to me. You don’t always feel 100% confident getting up on stage singing in a falsetto voice, but knowing that there was someone like Scholl out there, doing it incredibly well, made it feel like a real possibility. I remember when I was starting out people would giggle and think it was weird that my voice sounded the way it did, but the more confident I became the less I worried about that. I go out of my way now to perform in a lot of different settings – from churches and recital halls to contemporary spaces – and there is still sometimes a moment where the audience gets confused about what they’re hearing, but I do think people recognize that the countertenor voice is really special.

Speaking of contemporary spaces, I’ve been working on my own show and learning the ropes around event management has been a massive learning curve. I have a huge respect for the artists who do this all the time! I’m pretty lucky that my wife manages a lot of the logistics and has spared me a few of the bumps along the way, but any kind of involvement in the “other side” really helps you grow as a performer. Of course, there is always heaps going on between my own projects and the work I do as a freelance countertenor, but my teacher in Basel has a great philosophy about busy-ness that I try and keep in mind: when you’ve got a million things on, you have to relax into the stress. The slower you move and the easier you take it, the more you’ll actually enjoy the work you are doing. It’s simple, but it works!

My Rehearsal Room: Cassandra Seidemann

Life as an opera singer is incredibly interesting - you’re often on the road and meeting new people, which comes with excitements and challenges. I am constantly preparing for different sorts of performances; operas, concerts, plays and musicals, and each form has its own process. For recitals, like the one I am working on at the Sydney Opera House, there is always an element of standard repertoire - those pieces that I’m often asked to sing because of how well they work in front of range of different audiences. I’ll be doing things like arias from Carmen, or ensemble works like the Flower Duet from Lakme. In these events, it’s incredibly important to ensure the works do not become stale, regardless of how many times you perform them or how comfortable you feel getting them prepared for stage. I constantly reconsider the characters, because as you grow older, you have more life experience to pour into the roles. I do think my [portrayal of] Carmen is getting better with age; when I was younger, I found there were parts of her that I couldn’t connect with, but as I experience more and learn more, I feel like I’m able to more authentically communicate that character.

Keeping up your well-known pieces while working on new repertoire is the most exciting balancing act. This performance is unusual for me, because it has had me learning Mandarin! I’ve been speaking with Chinese media outlets recently about the merging of Western Art Music and Eastern Operatic culture and it has been a really fascinating and rewarding process. Being able to share two cultures on stage is important and learning an entirely new language for work is a fantastic challenge, particularly when you become so used to singing the same European languages required of the operatic canon. I have been lucky to work with some wonderful guides though, who have been invaluable in the preparation process. My Chinese aria is the most stunning piece of music and I’m looking forward to getting it on a stage!

Whenever I’m learning a new work, whether it is something from the standard repertoire or something brand new to me, like the Chinese work for this performance, I have a significant research process, where I spend time getting to know the composer, their life, and then maybe the reasons why they put pen to paper in the first place. As artists, it is our job to serve composers by creating the most truthful and meaningful version of their work as possible. There are many techniques to achieve this, but really diving headfirst into the research always helps me.

Balancing that research alongside musical preparation and character development is the singers ongoing challenge. You have to be ridiculously organised! Compartmentalising helps me with that - making sure that I know what my priorities are for every upcoming project. When I get a new job, I spend a lot of time with the score or the script, making sure I have all the nuances under my belt and then I throw myself into the character. I think knowing what your weaknesses are is also helpful and that allows you to make good choices in your prioritisation. If memory is difficult for you, you begin that process earlier, etc.

When it gets to character development, my experience in straight acting has helped enormously, allowing me to approach role preparation from a slightly different point of view. I think it’s important to leave space in your interpretations for your character’s emotion; if I’m singing and my character needs to cry, I’ll allow myself to sob. That’s so much stronger than trying to make the perfect sound! Putting together a character is like baking a cake; there are a huge number of layers, but maybe the most important part is what the audience takes away from your performance. The audience needs to understand your character, so they can empathise with her, regardless of how vicious or conniving or naïve she may be. When you sit in the audience of any production and are moved, it’s because you see aspects of your personality reflected back at you and you can understand in some capacity the emotional arc of the characters onstage. When I’m getting ready for a production, that’s what I’m thinking about constantly. I often record myself performing bits and pieces of the role and watch it back, checking to see if the work is convincing. I’m not concerned about doing it “right”, I’m concerned about being believable. If there’s no truth in my performance, I’ve got to go back to the drawing board.

Something I’ve learnt about that idea of authenticity on stage is the idea of allowing yourself not to be “pretty” on stage when it’s not specifically appropriate. When you spend time thinking about how you look in this or that pose, or that you’ve got singer face on, you’ll never ever reach the heart of your character. She wouldn’t be thinking of those things as she goes about, you know? So, if you’re playing her, neither should you. As a developing singer, I was constantly concerned about what people were seeing. Now I think about what they’re feeling.

As students, it’s too easy to look up at our idols and see their confident characters and believe that everything is fantastic for them off stage as well. They seem put-together and strong and of course, in many ways, we all are because you have to be in the industry, but as I’ve grown into the industry I’ve realized that everyone – whether beginner or seasoned professional – is going through the exact same things as you. There are always crappy times in life, but if you allow it, your vulnerability can bring a huge amount of strength and depth of character to your craft. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that work is not my whole life, but a part of my life, and that is something I wish I’d figured out earlier on. Performers are the luckiest people in the world to be able to do what we do, but at the end of the day, it is a job, and having a life outside of the industry allows you to do that job even better. I think it’s important to remember that you must have things in your life that aren’t your job to make your happy, because if all you have is the career, it’ll never be enough.

It’s a hard job but a great job, being a singer, and I think we do it well here in Australia. I’ve never meet an unprepared colleauge and I really believe we have a great work ethic across all our entertainment sectors. What have been the most important learnings? To stop worrying about myself and get the job done, and to get it done well. I never let myself coast and I couldn’t – audiences are too smart for that!

Our Rehearsal Room: Ossicle Duo

The newly formed Ossicle Duo - trombonist Benjamin Anderson and percussionist Hamish Upton - centres their practice on the creation of great new music, inspired programming and having a darn good time. To build this new ensemble, the pair has given enormous reserves of energy, skill and dedication to the cause, but in chatting to them you’d be forgiven for thinking that the entire process has been completely relaxed. There’s always more to chamber music than meets the eye, so Megan Steller caught up with Benjamin and Hamish to hear about the process behind Ossicle Duo’s thoughtful approach.

Megan: It would be great to start off with your origin story if that’s okay! When did you meet and how soon did you start considering the idea of forming a duo?

Hamish: It started about eight years ago in Singapore. I was in my second year of university there and Ben had just arrived as a third year. Naturally, our Australian and New Zealand alliance kicked in quickly!

Benjamin: There was a group of us - a little Trans-Tasman group - that hung out, and Hamish and I would go for runs together and grab cheap food at the university canteen. We started playing for each other in the lead up to exams - performing our pieces over and over again until we were happy with them. Our first experience of playing together was in one of my recitals, a piece for trombone and two percussionists.

Hamish: We then graduated at separate times; Ben went home to Melbourne and I went back to New Zealand, and then eventually we both ended up at Australian National Academy of Music. I actually stayed with Ben when I came over to do my audition!

Benjamin: We started talking about playing together when we were at studying at ANAM but we were both doing a lot of freelance work and then I got my job [Ben is the Principal Bass Trombone for Orchestra Victoria], so we didn’t have enough space to do anything else. But in late 2016, we finally decided that we really wanted to make the duo idea a reality and began that planning process straight away.

Megan: So, by the time we get to the launch in late-February, this will have been in the works for a little over a year?

Benjamin: Yes! We wanted to do it properly, so we took the time to think about what we wanted to play and what the ensemble’s philosophy would be. We chose a program - a few works that we really wanted to do - and then started to think about how we could build around those pieces. We’re very committed to commissioning, so we began to look for grant opportunities and interesting composers who we thought would fit our overall vibe. Hamish has worked with James Hullick before [composer commissioned to write a piece for the duo’s launch], and he’s been a great mentor.

Hamish: James has been incredibly helpful in providing advice on how we set the ensemble up, offering a lot of invaluable wisdom on getting everything organised in time.

Benjamin: Once all those initial things were organised and we’d thought a lot about why we were doing this, we began to look at grant opportunities with gusto, and found the City of Port Philip’s Cultural Development Fund. We were unsure whether we’d get it or not but we decided to go for it and it came through successfully, which was fantastic. I think the time we put into setting the duo up properly has been a real plus in securing support, but also in giving us confidence in the idea overall.

Hamish: We’re so grateful for that grant, because it means we can do things properly - pay for commissions and have a proper marketing campaign, included! ANAM has also really helped us out; we picked this crazy program with two enormous percussion setups and there’s no one who owns all the necessary gear, so it has been great to have had access to the school’s equipment. We would never have been able to pull off a program of this magnitude without that help!

Benjamin: I think the program has basically every single big percussion instrument we could think of, right? Except for timpani! We’ve got marimba, tubular bells, glockenspiel, xylophone; it’s ridiculous. Then there’s this battery of smaller auxiliary percussion instruments.

Megan: And Ben, you have a pretty cool instrument selection too, right?

Benjamin: Yes! I’ve always had this idea that it’d be fun to get a double-bell euphonium, which is an instrument that dates back to the early 20th-century. I put an eBay alert out for them a few years ago and an instrument pops up every now and again but until now, I’d never been able to justify the price for something I wouldn’t get to play all that often. It just so happened that in time for the upcoming launch, I was looking at the website of an instrument repairer in California and he had one for sale at a surprisingly reasonable price, so I asked my colleague in LA to go and try it out. He said it was great, so I bought it and it arrived in Melbourne just after Christmas!

Hamish: It’ll make its debut in James’ piece, which is exciting. He was great about making some adjustments and fitting the instrument into the work.

Benjamin: In the program, I’ll actually be playing bass trombone, alto trombone and the new double-bell euphonium. That’s a big part of this ensemble; creating an exciting and varied sound world. Hamish plays about fourteen trillion instruments, give or take, so I’m trying to play as many instruments as him! We don’t want to limit ourselves.

Megan: Is there already lots of repertoire out there for this combination of percussion and trombones?

Benjamin: The Richard Barrett piece, EARTH, that we will be performing is an incredibly important piece in the repertoire and because of how compelling it is as a work, lots of people have commissioned pieces to perform alongside it. As a result, there is quite an interesting body of work for the setup, including Brenton Broadstock’s piece, Beast from Air, which we will also be playing. I suppose the Barrett really kickstarted a canon of music while leaving space for additional commissioning and writing.

Megan: And I suppose that the interest in continuing to build the canon is part of the ensemble’s larger mission?

Benjamin: Absolutely, commissioning will be a big part of what we do with Ossicle duo. The driving force for us was wanting to play great music with great people, but then also in terms of grander ideas, we wanted this duo to be a starting point from which we can move and add and build and subtract. It will be an existing duo that allows space for us to play solo works if we want, or add a saxophonist or a pianist should a piece require it. There’s so much Australian repertoire that is built on this duo with some additional players.

Hamish: Philosophically, the reason I play music is as much for the people as it is for the repertoire. This concert is allowing me to tackle some works that are beyond anything I’ve ever played before; the Barrett is a dream to play for a percussionist - it’s a bucket list piece, really - and that is really special. And honestly, it’s just fun to play with Ben! All the aspects of working on the duo are great, actually; from marketing and event organisation to the actual rehearsing.

Benjamin: We have a ball!

Megan: Does being great friends help when you’re in the rehearsal room, getting this crazy tricky repertoire ready for performance?

Hamish: It does. We can be extremely honest with each other and we don’t take things too personally. If there’s something not going right, we just chip away at a solution. I think we’re pretty diplomatic about everything.

Benjamin: Absolutely, we’re both very accommodating. We want to make the overall experience good and so we’re both always happy to be the person that admits to having stuffed up! It’s important for us to be solution-driven.

Hamish: We’re really limited by rehearsal space because of the amount of instruments we’re using, so we do quite a bit of rehearsing away from our setups; just working on the repertoire by clapping through sections. We get together and do a bit of emailing, have a bit of dinner and do a bit of singing! This means that by the time we get to the instruments, we’re not scrambling to get things together. Rehearsal time is precious, so we want to be using it in the most effective way possible.

Megan: I imagine any rehearsal time is hard to come by - with or without instruments - considering how busy you both are?

Hamish: It is tricky - I have an unpredictable freelance workload and Ben has his busy job at OV, but we’re both very accommodating of each other's commitments. And we’re always honest about those times when we are freaking out or panicking, which does happen! We’ve both had a few little moments in the lead up to the launch…

Benjamin: This is such an ambitious program and we both recognised that from the outset. We kind of work by the motto of: “bite off more than you can chew, then chew like hell”. I think that lends itself to aiming for goals that don’t have a clear-cut path, but we’ve found that if you voice your concerns as they arise and talk through potential problems, everything generally turns out okay!

Megan: With a restricted schedule, I imagine that attitude has helped with all of the extra administrative tasks that come alongside setting up a duo. Have you got into a rhythm with those additional jobs?

Hamish: We’ve both assumed roles without really talking about it, actually. I’m working on venues and Ben has been in charge of marketing. We’re using Google Docs to sort everything out - our scores are there and we both work off a marketing plan.

Benjamin: I’ve also been doing some grant writing while Hamish makes content for the website, so there’s definitely a bit of a split in terms of tasks, but we’re constantly talking about what needs to be done and helping each other out with anything that is pressing. We have the most enormous iMessage chain, that gets super fast-paced at times! Hamish sits on his computer and types out all these huge messages while I’m on my phone trying to keep up! But really, being open with all our communication is the most important thing for us. We’re trying to be super realistic and relaxed, and we’d like to keep saying yes to things - experiences, instruments and ideas. I guess we’re saying yes to as much as is reasonable.

Hamish: Maybe that makes the duo’s overall philosophy a “within-reason yes”? I like that.

My Rehearsal Room: James Hazel

Recently, I have worked in-depth with composer Vickie Pham and through our collective Sonant Bodies, exploring ideas related to transformative space & sound-as-ritual. Contextually speaking, we are both attracted to the ways in which ritual & spiritual practices can alter human consciousness. Indeed, we are fascinated by traditional and ancient cultures and their cultural & religious practices. Victoria is an archaeologist, so this fascination is naturally part of her vocation. It is certainly true that activated spaces such as the church, mosque, and temple, have an astounding, transformational effect on their participants. An effect facilitated, in part, by the idea of ritual.

A ritual comprises of several elements, such as specific people, specific places, process, and chronology. A ritual can contain symbolic and didactic properties that involves captivating the audience’s attention to a particular significant event to another. For example, a ‘formal mass’ involves a ‘procession with music’, the use of various rituals, and the manipulation of ‘holy relics'. 1 Additionally, rituals can involve sound, including elements such as singing, bells, ‘sacred instruments’, chanting, reciting, and musical devices such as drone, or heterophony.

What is it about the idea of a transformative music space that so intrigues me and many others I speak to, particularly those inclined towards a little quasi-mysticism? Could it be the fact I am somehow attempting to substitute my escapist impulses - formerly satiated by hedonism - and now in stoical sobriety, I am seeking a purer form of transcendence? Surely this is too reductionist and psychoanalytical a notion! Maybe I am looking to transform my aesthetic outlook? Am I wanting to be injected with new ideas or impressions through music, after feeling fatigued by the current circulation of stale middle-class discourse? Could it be that from my youth, I remember attending an old Catholic Church and witnessing the synthesis of sound, symbolism, ritual, architecture; consecrate in transforming what I had prior considered a rather drab, grey and underwhelming building, into something much other-than-itself? Something which for an ephemeral moment, became grand, illuminated, even eclipsing the sublime? Perhaps so.

Irony aside, I think that one’s yearning for personal transformation is perennial and, on some level, primordial. That is probably why some of us seek out transformative spaces. Human beings are often transfixed by the idea of transformation in some capacity; in the mainstream realm, look how many times Madonna has reinvented her image! Furthermore, one merely need contemplate the myriad of religious rituals performed throughout the world - designed to transform the psyches of the participants involved. We all feel a deep desire to reinvent, to be renewed/reborn/reformed; the old Phoenix from the flame and ash allegory. One way we can experience this is through immersion in transformative, performance spaces.

For many years, I tried to recapture the transcendent impression from the performance space of the church, but alas, it was often fleeting. As a teenager, I would attend heavy-metal concerts in an attempt to, once again, experience a sense of transformation via sound. Sometimes it would occur when I became sublimated into the community of bodies; all functioning as simultaneous conduits for masses of pummelling, dense sound; vibrating communities drawn together by their communal, physiological experience of the music. Through this, I would once again regain that transformational ecstasy. Later on, I would attend choral and symphonic concerts – some were more successful at ‘transforming’ the space than others. The grand, symphonic music of the reverberating concert-hall certainly elated the building and transformed the physical and social space in many ways. I thus became obsessed with any concert which featured performances dependent on spatiality in unique ways. I was even more enamored with the experience when the music was purveyed in harmony with the visual and architectural aspects of the performance space.

Non-organised and organised sound has the propensity to alter, construct, affirm, or undermine our phenomenological impressions of space, that is to say: the way in which our structures of consciousness construct our conceptions of space. For example, when one walks through a park, listening to say, Bach’s Six Cello Suites (or some other music of a similar aesthetic calibre) on their iPhone, one feels the park transform: the plants appear more fecundate and green. Indeed, the park seems to reflect our small hopes and sentiments. It appears as if the emotional content of the music projects outwards, transforming our impression of the surrounding space; all but altering the molecular structure of the environment. Moreover, when one hears an abrupt, violent scream while walking down the footpath, it can feel as if the very foundations of the street are trembling. The sounds produced by a phalanx of police or ambulance sirens can turn a delightful experience at a coffee-shop into one of agitation and anxiety. A more extreme example of this is the description given by an audience member who attended a forcefully staged concert performance of a Shostakovich Symphony by a starving orchestra at the height of WWII in Stalingrad:

"The chandeliers were sparkling. It was such a strange feeling. On the one hand, it couldn't be possible - the blockade, burials, deaths, starvation, and the Philharmonic Hall - it was just so incredible”. 2

This is certainly a testament to the sound’s propensity to transform even a harrowing performance space. From what we understand, this transformational effect is produced by a combination of many factors such as musical-memory and association; involuntary physiological & emotional responses; as well as other, more complex neurological processes.

It is thus the idea of sound-as-ritual with regard to the resonant body, that Victoria and I are addressing at our upcoming Sonant Bodies self-titled exhibition. For example, our work Campanile, plays with the idea of the sound-ritual, using found domestic objects which are attached to midi-programmed pendulums to meditatively strike resonant bowls. The idea behind this work is to design an autonomous ritual to transform the exhibition space through sound. This work is installed in a space bathed in programmed light as to signify ‘sacredness’ through colour - inspired by Le Monte Young and Marian Zazeela’s Dream-House. Ultimately, the works in our exhibition form part of a larger, guided ritual, where audience members are instructed to walk through a directed path and contemplate the carefully programmed sounds produced by the installations & video works.

Overall, this exhibition is one of experimentation for Sonant Bodies, and it is as much a research endeavor, as it is an aesthetic one. Ultimately, we hope our exhibition will induce a sense of transformation in the spaces the audience inhabits. An audacious claim indeed! For at the very least, we hope the audience will gain something special from the experience.

1 Spickard, J. V. (1991). Experiencing religious rituals: A Schutzian analysis of Navajo ceremonies. Sociology of Religion, 52(2), 191-204.

2 Caffrey, J. 2016. BBC News: Shostakovich's symphony played by a starving orchestra. [ONLINE] Available here. [Accessed 31 December 2017].

My Rehearsal Room: Hugh Harvey

I first met Adam Simmons a year or two after I moved from Adelaide to Melbourne in 2004. One of my first regular gigs was in a band called The Pearly Shells: they’re still going strong today. The repertoire ranged from jazz, swing and New Orleans music to blues and rock ‘n’ roll: basically, anything. The size of the band varied from a small quartet right up to a full big band, and when it was the full component it was usually Adam in the baritone saxophone chair.

Sometime after this, Adam called me up and asked me to replace the outgoing drummer in his trio, Origami. This led to an ongoing association with Adam and his music that includes Origami, the duet series 100:25:1, and most recently, the Adam Simmons Creative Music Ensemble.

The ASCME is a group of improvising musicians and sound and visual artists from a variety of backgrounds. Unusually, for an arena as interconnected as the Melbourne improvised music scene, many of the musicians were previously unknown to me. This is indicative of Adam’s incredibly broad and diverse musical and personal associations (as evidenced by his 100:25:1 project, where he performed duos with 100 different musicians over 25 days, all connected by their unique relationship with Adam). An essential facet and huge asset of the ASCME is the diversity of musical personalities he has pulled together. Far from sounding like a disparate mishmash of idiosyncratic musical voices, the ensemble sound is coherent and focused, the various members united by a clarity of vision, intent and aesthetic.

How Adam achieves this balanced, unified sound is, frankly, beyond me. His “instructions” consist mainly of veiled analogies, unfinished sentences characterised by words like “maybe”, “kind of” and “a bit of a…”, and gestures that are best described as nebulous. Yet all this is delivered with a benevolent smile that projects trust, fun, solidarity and an irrepressible spirit of adventure. Adam’s hands-off, autonomous leadership inspires and empowers the musicians to contribute selflessly to elevate the music: a true celebration of community and collaboration.

At its heart, the music of the ASCME is inclusive. From the zany, sacred Space music of the Sun Ra project, to the quirky, intense virtuosity of the Concerto for Piano and Toy Band with Michael Kieran Harvey, to the meditative celebration of The Usefulness of Art, the music of the ASCME invites audience and performers alike to participate and revel in a shared experience that is immediate, honest and pure The titles of the five principal sections of Adam’s The Usefulness of Art suite can also be used to describe defining characteristics of his own personality and that of the ASCME: Acceptance, Empathy, Generosity, Compassion and Faith.

My Rehearsal Room: Pete Lawler

As a newer member of the Adam Simmons Creative Music Ensemble, I feel I can offer an outsider's pespective. My musical career, although long, has never before intersected with the world of avant-garde jazz. I met Adam through 3RRR's annual meat-and-music festival, Barbeque Day, which has been held on the first Sunday of summer for the last 15 years or so. We do a 2-hour broadcast with a core band of 8 or 9 musicians and a line-up of guest vocalists live from a park in East Brunswick. We play popular songs with the lyrics rewritten to celebrate the carnivorous appetite. If you imagine Crowded House singing 'Everywhere you go, you always take the Weber with you', you'll get the idea. Adam shows up each year with whichever horn player he can talk into this unpaid gig. They take a brief look at the charts and set up some sort of black magic telepathic arrangement. They are infallibly funktasic. I connected musically with Adam through this and since then have been included in his 100:25:1 project and made a member of the ASCME.

The iPad is my main musical weapon of choice these days. A huge number of synthesiser and drum machine emulations are available cheaply as apps and some exploit the iPad's touchscreen capabilities in musically smart and innovative ways.

Because we've performed The Usefulness of Art before, the group are familiar with the piece. Charts are sent to those who can use them. He sent me one and I found it impenetrable but interesting, like a piece of ancient Sumerian text. With this in mind, Adam's approach seems to be this:

The chances of getting 20 itinerant musicians together in one place to rehearse without the lure of cash are slim. This may lead to 'mistakes' but he has faith in the people he has chosen and their ability to think their way out of musical cul-de-sacs long before the audience knows something's up. We're encouraged to treat a musical mis-step as a chance for a small and hopefully interesting straying from the path. To take such accidents in their stride is a mark of the quality of these musicians. If you've heard poor musicians attempt the same thing, you'll know what I mean.

My Rehearsal Room: Gemma Horbury

So, when the last and dreadful Hour
This crumbling Pageant shall devour,
The TRUMPET shall be heard on high,
The dead shall live, the living die,
And MUSICK shall untune the Sky.
John Dryden (A Song for St. Cecilia’s Day, 1687)

I am a performer, an artist, and an educator: I am an agent of change. My work responds to the strangeness of everyday life in the early twenty-first century. It seems to me that society has subscribed to a horrifying consensus reality where the basic requirements for human survival are commoditised, and the effects of irreversible climate change are still being debated rather than acted upon by our government.

My tools are the mass media technologies that promised to unite us, but instead, distract us from connecting with each other in person. As a trumpeter, my chosen instrument represents ancient histories and biblical mythologies; it speaks of battles won and lost, of heavenly exaltation, but rather than an apocalypse heralded by angels blaring golden trumpets, today the alarm is being raised by scientists. We are in a new geological epoch, where so many humans have forgotten their place in nature that we have not only conquered the food chain but also assumed a dangerous influence on our planet’s climate.

The dislocation of our communities mirrors the fragmentation of the plastics that are altering our soil and water. Our social connections have suffered, eroding our sense of responsibility to each other to such an extent that artificial intelligence is being touted as a solution to providing quality care for our ageing population. Nostalgia and utopianism; longing for how it used to be or how we wish it could be, if only we weren’t so busy working to maintain our “lifestyle.” The possibilities that lie in our future are a mystery, but what if we do become so consumed with the business of working for capital that it seems perfectly normal to have a robot looking after grandma?

Every day, research builds the dossier of evidence for how the arts and creativity can help us determine a path toward a brighter, more connected and inclusive future… yet it’s been there all along: melody and rhythm existed before language as we know it. Art as part of nature is bigger and much, much older than us.

The Usefulness of Art, my current project with the Adam Simmons Creative Music Ensemble (ASCME) offers a space to meditate and share with a collective of musicians and artists; to embody themes of acceptance, empathy, generosity, compassion and faith. The audience is equally embraced in the live experience – acknowledging that we’re all in this together: listening, feeling, seeing and responding. It’s a contemporary ritual, a communion of hearts and minds that offers a sense of calm, a breath of fresh air in the chaos of everyday life. These are the experiences I most value in my work as a musician. Adam Simmons is often lauded for his abilities as a multi-instrumentalist, but I’m most touched by his ability to work with people. Apart from being extraordinarily hard-working, he has a rare gift for generating community: instinctively and gently encouraging the ensemble and audience alike to create, collaborate and celebrate spontaneity. Here with this group of musicians from Melbourne and Adam’s hometown of Ballarat I feel accepted just as I am. Whatever I can contribute today is just fine because nobody is expecting to produce the same performance tomorrow. But it wasn’t always like this.

Fifteen years ago, I was a freshly-minted conservatorium graduate. As an emerging artist, this is probably the time when arts funding is most accessible. Overseas travel goes with the territory for young orchestral musicians in training, and I’d recently returned from a scholarship trip to study historic brass performance in the UK. But all the possibilities I saw for myself changed suddenly one Sunday afternoon. The very same weekend that I came out to my parents as gay, I was the passenger in a high-speed car crash.

At the scene were a truck full of cows, a bus full of schoolchildren, and an ambulance that took me to hospital… I insisted that I was fine, and I’d already organised a lift to get to my four o’clock rehearsal, but I was discharged from spinal six hours later. I missed a rehearsal and the album recording that ensemble had been working towards. I’ve kept my copy of it all these years (it was to be my first proper release), but someone else’s name took the place of mine.

I went back to work after a few weeks off. I kept trying to play the trumpet, but the pain was intolerable without medication. My brain and my senses were so dull that I couldn’t reliably perform anymore. I was too proud to ask for help and I didn’t tell my colleagues what was wrong. I was full of shame.

After one last season of Handel’s Messiah, I silently withdrew from music.

In the many months of rehabilitation that followed, I was consumed by physical and emotional pain. I was invisibly damaged. I recall walking down the street one day, struck by the realisation that my desire to conquer Berio’s Sequenza X had disappeared. Having contemplated my own death, the idea that I would ever devote months of practice to master a piece for a single performance was immediately ridiculous. Everything I’d aspired to meant nothing. Standing on the street, outside my local supermarket, all I craved was a simple melody.

Slowly, I rebuilt my fledgeling career as a community artist. Instead of making and playing natural trumpets, I built hose-a-phones and instruments from almost anything you can imagine (hard rubbish was a goldmine). If I couldn’t perform, then I could still teach and share my love of music. The gift of grief or pain is that you start to recognise the invisible hurt in others, and I could see that my training had given me many skills as a facilitator. When the insurance payout came through a few years after the accident I bought my first laptop and learned all the skills I’d never had a chance to when I was focused solely on trumpet: photography, video, animation, whatever took my fancy. I became a creative generalist. As my experience grew I started to work in youth centres, and even in a children’s hospital. The difference in this new realm of the arts was that we could all learn together. I made a DVD with skateboarders, ran a hip-hop project, even a TV channel. I can honestly say that having your own gameshow is fun, and damn… playing Wii tennis on a big screen with a twelve-year-old who’d had both hands amputated in the days before, or iTunes randomly playing a song you made with a guy who never made his eighteenth birthday (the day you heard of his passing)… well, I wasn’t gonna be so ashamed about not nailing Messiah after that.

And so I came to see that I’d constructed music as some competition. To win, you needed to be the best, to practice long and hard enough to get noticed, to get the work. But I’d forgotten the PLAY. Now, the performance outcome didn’t matter so much as the process of making; the sharing and laughing that happens with understanding how to organise sounds to create music.

This other mode of creating, where the experienced and the inexperienced are equals; where the performer and the audience experience the ecstatic together, this is where I find myself today. From that vivid moment on the street, wracked with pain, longing for some idea of a simple melody, I’ve come full circle. I’m skipping over the bit where I started playing the trumpet again by tap dancing with my busker friend doing Michael Jackson covers, but hey… Rodin nailed it when he said, “I call useful all that gives us happiness… art shows man his raison d’être.” A hundred years later, Adam Simmons created TUoA in response to Rodin’s ideas, and this work is essential stuff for humanity. Not purely for the ecstatic, immersive experience of the performances, but for the conversation and reflection it invokes within the broader community beyond the performance season or the recording. I get to be part of The Usefulness of Art, not just tonight or for the run of this show, but every day in what I bring to the world. Art is my reason for being, but it’s the sharing part that really gets me.

Musical Partners: Fia Fiell and Zela Papageorgiou

ZELA: Hey Carolyn! You’ve been commissioned to write a piece for our Play On performance, how is it all going?

FIA FIELL: It’s been heaps of fun! The idea was to write a multi-channel work using multiple speakers so the sound can be coming from all the different parts of the space, which is this amazing 100-year old Norla Dome at the Victorian Mission to Seafarers in Docklands. I’ve never done that before and it’s been super fun and exciting to try out new sounds and experiment a bit and experience the space. It’s really unique and echo-y and has these crazy acoustics.

ZELA: Is composing for space something you’d been interested in before?

FIA FIELL: I haven’t actually done it before – I’ve never had the opportunity! I think it helps to make an experience more special and I’m really grateful to be able to try it out.

ZELA: Have you spent much time in the space?

FIA FIELL: Heaps. It was a really strange experience to enter it for the first time, as you know, and to walk around. When you stand in the middle every single tiny sound is amplified and it is going to be a really exciting place to perform. Let’s turn the tables – how did you choose the pieces that you are playing in your program – Cage, Pateras, Xenakis and my piece!?

ZELA: As this is my first opportunity as a solo artist outside of any kind of university experience, I wanted to pick a program that I thought would reflect myself really well and summarise my interests as a musician and percussionist. We’ve recently done lots of works by John Cage at ANAM, and we got to work with some amazing American percussionists who are really important in this world and I thought it would be really special to play anything by Cage. I settled on Dream is such a beautiful work that I’ve always wanted to play. It fits in the octaves of vibes.

FIA FIELL: It’ll sound especially good in the Dome.

ZELA: I thought the acoustics of the space and the intimacy of the room as well would be a really good opener for the show. And then the Xenakis was kind of going to do the opposite. Where Cage’s work is dreamy and legato and elegant, Xenakis’ is this kind of intense drum piece that has rhythms that get denser and denser. I think with the boominess of the Dome it’ll be quite a unique way to listen to the work, because there are elements of delay depending on where in the room you’re standing. It could sound really crazy, like three percussionists are playing. Who knows if it’s the correct acoustic setting for this work – either way it’ll be really interesting.

FIA FIELL: I think it’s really awesome that you’re giving the audience an opportunity to hear all kinds of sounds in the one performance. The really crazy drum piece that is the Xenakis and the Pateras is metallic and high percussion sounds. The dreamier stuff will have more in common with the things I’m playing in my set directly after you.

ZELA: Totally – I was drawn to the Pateras because I did want to represent some local composers and I thought the limitations that I had to face were space – the vibes were already going to take up a decent part of the room, as were the drums for Xenakis. Then I came across this piece by Pateras and it’s written for a micro set-up and I thought that it’d work! I’ve always enjoyed performing pieces where the percussionist gets to have some kind of input into the outcome, because it makes the work unique to that performance and that space. What’s special about this one is the way the composer specifies wooden sounds, metal sounds, glass sounds, ceramic sounds and skins but doesn’t tell you what they have to be specifically, so it’s up to every individual performer to figure out what the piece is going to look like to them. There’s a whole variation of say, wooden sounds – you could use woodblocks but I’ve had pieces of wood cut at Bunnings. You wouldn’t hear those sounds in an orchestra, but they work really well.

FIA FIELL: They sound really cool!

ZELA: I also bought this big piece of pipe and got my Dad to cut it into random sizes and picked the ones I thought would work for the piece. I found glasses in op shops and made the drums myself from a broken timpani head and some PVC pipes. Being able to make my own instruments makes that whole experience really cool and I was also able to imagine the space as I was building, so the whole performance will feel like quite a tailored experience. And I have spares if anything breaks! For me as a musician, this is definitely the path that I want to head down – playing these works that you can really shape based on where you’re playing and who you’re playing to.

FIA FIELL: I think it’s cool that we get to play together in this kind of way. You’ve played my music before but in a more classical setting – and while you’re still playing classical music a large portion of the crowd will be people who don’t usually come to classical gigs. It’s great for people who go to see experimental electronic music to get the opportunity to hear the other stuff and vice versa.

ZELA: I find that the most exciting – the Xenakis is a piece that most university percussionists play at some point: it gets played in so many recitals and exams and is based on accuracy – how did that person play it compared to the person before them? Getting to play it for a crowd of people who are there to enjoy whatever they hear is a really cool thing to give back to the piece, I think.

FIA FIELL: Not having that pressure totally changes a piece.

ZELA: And knowing that they’re there to just relax and get into whatever gets performed. That’s cool.

FIA FIELL: And they’ll love it! I think a lot of people know and appreciate Xenakis without having that university experience. No one will have a score.

ZELA: I’m also excited to revisit your piece, which I like to think was written with me in mind?

FIA FIELL: Yes! You commissioned the work from me and I was so pleased you did! That will sound awesome in the space – it’s vibraphone and electronics and it made a lot of sense to perform it together.

ZELA: It’s probably the best space we’ve performed it in. A lot of the audience will be there because they know you through your electronic music (as Fia Fell) and I suppose some might not even know that you’ve done a degree in classical composition. How do you feel about that – working across those two platforms?

FIA FIELL: It’s exciting to be able to share that side with lots of my friends who have never seen this side of my music. I’ve never felt totally at home in the world of classical composition anyway and I’ve always wanted to combine the electronic world with the things I picked up at uni. I have a composition degree from the University of Melbourne and before that I was mainly a classical pianist. I was never sure about being a pianist and knew I wanted to create my own sounds, but it took forever to get to a place where I could do that. Maybe I studied too much! When I finally took some time off university a couple of years ago, I started performing live and put more time into that. I make synth-based electronic music, lots of people describe it as ambient. You could call it electro-acoustic, I guess? I was really excited to get this show and I’m looking forward to presenting it with you!

My Rehearsal Room: Daniel Nistico

Classical musicians (like myself) often play what is strictly notated on the written score. However, I think there is something we can learn from musicians of other styles that might offer us a different outlook. Evidence seems to strongly suggest that classical musicians from past centuries were not slaves to the score and were modifying, ornamenting and extemporizing the majority of the time. The French Baroque composer François Couperin even went so far as to rather bluntly say “we write differently to what we play”.

For now, I’d like to share with you my experiences with a Peruvian guitarist, Giovanni Riveros Lopez, whose outlook on interpreting Latin American music has completely reshaped the way I see and hear this style. My debut album, ‘A Mysitcal Journey’ (released June 2013) contains some works by Paraguayan composer Agustin Barrios (1885 – 1944). Barrios, like many other Latin American composers from the 20th century, combined elements of Western classical music with those of his own native style. Perhaps one of the most famous examples of such a composer was Astor Piazzolla, whose music (alongside Barrios and many others) will be on our ‘Latin American Journey’ program.

I asked Giovanni some questions about his experiences with the guitar and Latin American music. After reading his responses and spending time chatting with him personally, it seems that I have totally underestimated the value of getting acquainted with popular music. Giovanni points out that both Western classical music and Latin American music are influenced by the popular music of their time and place. I hope you can join Giovanni and I as we bring you a unique program that blends popular and classical music from Latin America.

DN: What were your first experiences of Latin American music?

GL: My first experiences of Latin American music was with a very popular Andean instrument in South America (the Quena – a type of traditional flute made in the Andes) that awakened my musical interest when I was 13 years old. It was my father who bought me my first instrument and this instrument helped me to know different Andean rhythms from different countries such as Peru, Bolivia, Chile and Ecuador.

DN: What would you say are the most defining features of Latin American music?

GL: Latin American music is defined more by the rhythms and styles that are very similar to each other. Or that is to say, they seem to be the same but there are in fact always differences. I think the difference is in the instrumentation and the way of life of each region the music comes from.

DN: Describe your path to the guitar and how the instrument has brought you to so many places around the world.

GL: My path to the guitar was a bit difficult and windy. From adolescence, I dreamt of playing the guitar so much that after finishing studies in industrial mechanics, I decided to start classical guitar studies. Studying classical guitar brought me to Alemania (Germany). During my studies, I had the opportunity to meet many musicians from different countries and this expanded my knowledge of both classical and popular music. Through the concerts held by the university and members of many classical festivals, I got to know many networks from Perú, Germany and Europe

DN: Can you talk about how Western music has influenced Latin American music or vice versa?

GL: The western influence in Latin American popular music has been very important. Thanks to it the musical interpretation has reached a high level. Classical music has enabled people to learn much about Latin American countries and their culture. Thanks to classical music, many South American musicians can make known their Folklore and not only interpret it better, but also teach it. Many works by Latin composers were not written for lack of musical knowledge and usually pass from generation to generation as anonymous.

DN: What is your approach to interpreting music that’s on the score? Do you strictly follow what is indicated in the score, or is there a lot of flexibility in your interpretation?

GL: When I have to read works from the score the first thing I do is to play exactly what the composer wants and then analyze it. In popular styles, I try to change or improve what is notated without losing the musical roots. When it comes to interpreting a musical work, you have to think about the type of music that it comprises and the origin of the music, and base the interpretation on this.

DN: If a classical musician (like myself) wishes to understand Latin American musical style, then how would you suggest one does this?

GL: I think that for any classical musician it is very important to develop a sense for popular music. Do not forget that classical music also has much influence from European popular music. For a good Latin American musical performance it is important to listen and know the Folklore of the region. Latin American music is the reflection of the people and this music brings with it the experience of the people of the region.

My Rehearsal Room: Jordan Auld

In less than three weeks, Cordelia’s Potted Opera’s (CPO), will be putting on one of their two final shows for the year, Suor Angelica. After an enormous 2017 season, which included the likes of Don Giovanni, Madama Butterfly and Rigoletto, Puccini’s Suor Angelica is a hidden treasure. Whilst the opera’s popularity may not have reached the heights of the composer's La Boheme or Tosca, Suor Angelica is nonetheless a beautiful, sensitive and sentimental opera, portraying the emotional strain and tragedy of Sister Angelica: a nun in a convent near Siena in the latter part of the 17th century.

Within the production, professionals and young emerging artists perform alongside, offering the developing musicians a real opportunity to work alongside professionals and to get an insight into the world of opera. In my opinion, this is a hugely important quality opportunity which contributes to and aids the success of the company. Sharing the role of Angelica is Suzanne Shakespeare and Bethany Eloise, two highly competent and excellent sopranos with many a role to their name. The emotional depth and sense of realism they bring to the role of Angelica is just as astounding as their effortless and soaring top Cs. Belinda Paterson takes on the role of Principessa, Angelica’s aunt, and Kerrie Bolton features as the ever-dominant Abbess. Seasoned performer Kate Bright also returns to CPO performing the Monitor.

Under the direction from Stee Cordelia and Michael Lampard, it is exciting to see how much the show will develop and progress over the coming weeks. An experienced baritone turned conductor and music director, Michael Lampard is an essential part of the rehearsal process. His understanding of singers has allowed for the sound of the chorus to flourish. Whilst the music has been the paramount focus for the last two weeks, staging will be underway in tonight’s rehearsal led by Stee. Pamela Christie performs alongside the singers bringing an array of colour into the show with her brilliantly emotive piano playing. The music of Puccini just soars!

My Rehearsal Room: Vanessa Scammell

In July of this year, I started work on a new production of The Merry Widow, commissioned by the Opera Conference and slated to perform at all the major opera countries in Australia. Working with the talented Graeme Murphy as Director, his Associate Janet Vernon and Assistant Shane Placentino, we put together a sparkling new operetta that kicked off in Perth for the West Australian Opera. With much love, the show has evolved, the new libretto has been prodded and poked, the glorious score has been tailored, dance steps have been created, sets miraculously appeared and finally this new production of The Merry Widow was born.

Having just spent a month rehearsing a new cast at The Opera Centre in Sydney for Opera Australia’s Melbourne season of The Merry Widow, I am about to fly down to Melbourne for the next stages of production. This is always an extremely busy and highly focused time, so when asked to contribute a look into my rehearsal process, I figured there is no better way to let the reader know how my days are spent than to follow me from rehearsal to rehearsal. Hang on to your hats!

NOVEMBER 8 - MELBOURNE

6.30am – Up and at it early, I walk across to my gym in the city from my accommodation. I find that the walk and the workout clear my mind and energise me for what is going to be a massive three call day.

7.30am – Coffee in Degraves Lane – a must.

9.30am – I arrive at the St. Kilda Town Hall for my first Orchestral Readings with Orchestra Victoria (OV). We have two calls to get through the entire show so being prepared and running to schedule is paramount. I always arrive early to chat with Orchestral Management and check the layout of the orchestra (this, of course, has been planned in advance and replicates how the orchestra is placed in the pit at the Arts Centre Melbourne). I also like to connect with the musicians who arrive early. I have worked extensively with OV so there are a lot of familiar faces and, inevitably, there will be questions asked about certain sections of the music. Answering them ahead of the first orchestral reading always feels like a head start.

10.30am – The orchestra tunes and the first orchestral reading begins.

11.30am – During the break, the concertmaster, Roger Jonsson and I go through some of the violin solos that we will be rehearsing in the next hour. These solos are closely connected to the role of Hanna, who is the ‘merry widow’ and played by the very talented Danielle de Niese. I sing and conduct through some of the passages so he is able to shape the music and can understand the breathing within the phrases. There is also a lot of choreography involved in this production so I give Roger a heads up on the shape of some of the dance pieces and where rubato is required.

11.45am – Back to the rehearsal and we make it through Act 1 and start Act 2… we are on schedule!

12.00pm – I have a quick phone meeting about a sound balance/Sitzprobe call onstage in the theatre for this Friday. The reason we have forgone the traditional Sitzprobe is because we are using microphones for this Melbourne production and therefore the sound balance and checking can be done at the same time as putting the orchestra and singers together. I was also informed a few days ago that we may need to record some sections of the show for a commercial that is being filmed, so I will need to decide on when and how we fit that into the already tight schedule. Someone has kindly run and picked me up some lunch, which is great as it is now time to start again!

2.00pm – Our second orchestral reading begins.

3.30pm – I spend a bit of time chatting to the principal percussionist in the break as we need to make some additions to certain numbers to achieve a rustic, Hungarian, Gypsy sound. This is not notated so it is great to see what possibilities we may employ.

3.45-5.00pm – We get through the rest of the score, I repeat a few of the more difficult sections and I say goodbye to the orchestra until Friday.

5.00pm – I get a lift with one of the cellists in the orchestra and head to the theatre at the Arts Centre Melbourne.

5.30pm – I arrive at the theatre, sign in and find the conductors suite where I quickly unpack. The piano technical rehearsal starts at 6pm. This will be a slow-moving night as it is all about rehearsing the technical aspects of the show with the cast and crew for the first time. I find Stephen Walter, the repetiteur, in the pit. I love the last stages of rehearsing with the piano in the huge and empty pit. It is always such a pleasure to sit and have time to take in the stage and set and surroundings. Some of the crew come in to adjust my podium and stand and I chat to lighting about my ‘special’ light (the light that is on me so the orchestra and cast can see me). We get through Acts 1 and 3 and the cast gets an idea of their space on stage. Stairs and exit points always feel so new after having been in a rehearsal room for weeks on end.

9.00pm – The day has ended! I have a quick chat to publicity who plan to take some shots of me tomorrow during the rehearsal for this article! I quickly chat to Orchestral Management again regarding the set-up of the pit and I confirm with Tony Cray (Head of Sound) about microphone placement.

9.30pm – Home. I quickly look at the schedule for tomorrow and go over my plan of attack for rehearsals for the next few days. I take a deep breath and collapse on the couch in my accommodation… only 6 sleeps until opening night!

My Rehearsal Room: Anna Martin-Scrase

It took us a year or two to find our identity as a string quartet. We fairly quickly realised that we needed a point of difference if we were to become known as more than just a “gigging” quartet. And apart from this, we found ourselves playing quite a bit of new Australian music and loving it. Right from the start, we programmed in composer Lyle Chan's music. Lisa and Stefan, our first violinist and violist (as well as our married couple) had heard his music performed by pianist Benjamin Martin and thought it was absolutely gorgeous, so contacted Chan to see if he had anything for string quartet. From that point on (2010) we programmed something of Chan's in almost every concert.

Our big break came in 2011 when we performed some of Elena Kats-Chernin's works as part of a Conservatorium teachers' concert. Kats-Chernin was present at the rehearsal and concert and approached us afterwards with a project she had been wanting to do - to record her complete works for string quartet in a double CD - and she felt we were the right group to pull it off.

This project (our CD Blue Silence was released in 2012) really set us up for our identity as a new music quartet. Now, we tend to play melodic compositions, beautiful or fun pieces, because as an ensemble, we are best at emotional compositions. Since that first project, we have been approached by Australian composers to record or perform their works. We feel extremely lucky to be in this position and have enjoyed performing and recording pieces by Joe Twist, Sally Whitwell, Moya Henderson, Gordon Kerry (coming up in 2018), Nick Wales, Nick Vines and of course, Lyle Chan.

When programming concerts, we program mainly what we like to play. This has ended up being a mirror reflection of your typical quartet program: mostly new works with one standard repertoire piece (rather than mostly standards with something new thrown in). We love playing Mozart, Beethoven, Ravel, Debussy but specifically program them in also because we feel we need a drawcard for our audience. The audience may come away from the concert raving about the Golijov or the Chan, but they don't always come to a concert for those names first and foremost. This concert, for example, has the draw-card of Ravel's string quartet, but we've paired it with a brand new composition by Lyle Chan, a funky rhythmic piece by Alvarez, a short Shostakovich and Golijov's gorgeous Tenebrae.

When it comes to our preparation schedule, we have always rehearsed weekly rather than being project-based. Up until this year we rehearsed three days a week, something we have not been able to sustain this year. We've reduced to two days a week with the optional third day as concerts approach. We do anywhere from 5 to 7 hours per day, careful to take breaks when we notice tempers fraying or hunger setting in.

Lisa is very good at planning and sets us specific pieces or movements to rehearse each day: it is easy to get bogged down in a difficult movement and completely forget to rehearse something which feels easy, but none-the-less requires work!

We have also learned to do as many run-throughs as possible, ideally in front of an audience, even if it's only an audience of one. It's only in a concert situation like a run-through where weak spots really show up and we learn which parts are likely to give us trouble.

The other very important piece of advice we were given is to pace ourselves on the day of a concert. Rest, and even naps, help to prepare us. Soundchecks should be taken literally – to check the sound but not to rehearse or change anything. By the time you get to the soundcheck, your rehearsal time is over.

My Rehearsal Room: Jenny Eriksson

I’ve never really had a career masterplan, but I’ve always had dreams and within those dreams, goals seem to emerge with the passing of time. When I came back from studying in Holland in the late 1980s, many people told me that I would never make a career as a professional viola da gambist in Australia and they were right to give that advice. It simply does not make sense! But being an artist or a musician is not about rational choices. It’s about following your calling, or intuition; it’s about doing what you think is right at the time and always heading towards a new horizon.

Back in 2000, for example, I knew I had to take the step of starting my own group, the ensemble which became The Marais Project. This was a big decision for me and I balked at it: I lacked the confidence and experience at one level, but on another, I was compelled to put myself on the line, sometimes with mixed results!

Similarly, with recording. I had no idea how to make a CD but several years ago we rehearsed up some repertoire, hired a sound engineer, found a designer for the booklet and released “Viol Dreaming”, now known as CD one. "Viol Dreaming" set a pattern which we have continued to follow: the idea of a recording as storytelling, of taking the listener on a journey, of placing traditional French baroque repertoire alongside new, Australian works, of musical humour coexisting with high baroque seriousness. Our last CD did, after all, include a song by ABBA in high baroque-style!

“Spinning Forth” is our sixth release. It too is a mix of core French repertoire for the viola da gamba and two new works by Paul Cutlan and Llew and Mara Kiek. I am incredibly happy with the result and feel it represents where we are as a group and what we stand for as artists.

Music-making for me is all about community and friendship. Over the years I’ve continued to work with lutenist, Tommie Andersson, fellow viola da gambist, Cathy Upex and singer Lindy Montgomery. Producer Llew Kiek and sound engineer, Chris Doherty, have been with us since CD number two. We know each other’s strengths and play to them. Over recent years, and on Spinning Forth, new musicians have come into the circle including tenor, Koen van Stade, composer Paul Cutlan, Baroque flautist, Mikaela Oberg and violinist, Matthew Bruce. Being a community is about ensuring that each artistic personality comes through and that every collaborator has an opportunity to shine and do interesting things.

Now Spinning Forth is “out there” it takes on a life of its own. It was once just the inkling of an idea, a twinkle in the eye so to speak. Now the baby has grown into a young adult and left home. My hope is that people will enjoy the music we love! I also hope that listeners come to know a little better the instrument that has taught me so much about what it is to be a musician and a human being: the viola da gamba.

My Rehearsal Room: Chelsea Kluga

After a season involving much waltzing and champagne with Grahame Murphy’s production The Merry Widow, West Australian Opera is about to open its next show, Lucia di Lammermoor, directed by Matthew Barclay with musical direction by Maestro Brad Cohen. I’m one of 32 in the chorus for Lucia, with the experience levels ranging from debut to 10-plus years in the chorus. For those curious as to what goes into mounting such an iconic production, I hope to give insight into the inner workings from the perspective of a chorus member.

For the first step in the process, we started our music calls with chorus master Thomas Johnson. Depending on how large the part is the time frame can vary quite considerably. While this isn’t a hugely chorus-focused opera, we do provide a lot of necessary commentary. Therefore, the focus of many of the rehearsals was working on achieving the right mood and colour to suit the drama that’s happened, and to set up for what is to come. Whilst some of the music is wonderful to sing, other sections aren’t as inspiring when rehearsed out of context. These one-word interjections which are almost humorous in the rehearsal room transform when on the stage. It’s a little bit like a relay race and getting the baton passed to you, except instead of passed it’s thrown at you and you have to catch it for a second before throwing it back with the same energy. If there’s a lapse in energy or change in mood it’s extremely obvious, and with 32 people to coordinate, it calls for a lot of precision.

We were so fortunate for this production to have the brilliant language coach Nicole Dorigo over from the eastern states. Again, it’s another level of precision necessary when that many people are singing the same part. You only need a couple of excessive s’s, or the wrong vowel, for a phrase to sound messy, so Nicole's expertise was really invaluable.

For me, the most interesting part of the process is to watch a scene develop from rehearsal room to stage. The mad scene in Lucia is arguably one of the most iconic moments in the operatic repertoire, and watching its evolution throughout the season has been fascinating. Witnessing the incredible Emma Pearson as Lucia descend into madness and grief has been captivating. Even in our first rehearsal of this scene in a bright rehearsal room, with casual clothes and simply a piano as accompaniment, it struck me just how powerful and overwhelming opera can be in its purest form. The extra elements that are added only enhance this and I’m so excited for the audience to see what we’ve been witnessing through rehearsals. One of the greatest perks of working in the chorus has been being able to hear these opera singers up close. Like many singers, I spend many hours listening to opera on youtube, so being able to hear voices like these up close is a real gift.

The first day on set is always interesting, made more so by the beautiful yet at times overwhelming outfits. The costumes in this production are so lavish that at times they can become treacherous. With an abundance of fabric now on stage that wasn’t there in rehearsals, we spend the first few run-throughs getting used to the added challenges of manoeuvring the set. You definitely feel a strong sense of camaraderie amongst the chorus, especially for the first few calls, as you try and maintain a heightened awareness of obstacles at all times!

After the first few dress rehearsals, we were fortunate to be joined by the Western Australian Symphony Orchestra for a sitzprobe. Being able to hear the final element in the production after working on it for over a month is incredibly satisfying. The highlight for me would be listening to the connection and interaction in the duet between Emma and the principle flautist, Andrew Nicholson, during the mad scene. There’s such an intensity felt on stage hearing a full orchestra reduce to one player and I’m sure the audience will find it breathtaking as well.

Following this, there are only two more orchestral dress rehearsals before we open to the public. The production we are undertaking first premiered with Dame Joan Sutherland in the title role, who helped make it an iconic moment for opera in Australia. To be able to see video footage of Sutherland descending the very same staircase we use, surrounded by the costumes we wear, makes this production feel almost transcendental. I hope if you’re in Perth you’ll come and see the show, and see for yourself just how powerfully this music is sung by incredible Australian artists. If you do, I’ll be the woman on the balcony.

My Rehearsal Room: Gemma Tomlinson

Throughout my formative studies, I never gave much thought to gender imbalance in the arts and creative industries. As a string player, I had been privileged to learn and work in an environment where the balance between male and female players was very equal, and there was no judgement of my abilities based on my gender. It seemed strange to me that the quality of someone’s work could be judged in this way, but I have since learnt that this can be the case for many instrumentalists, composers, conductors and administrators.

During my undergraduate degree, I was fortunate to befriend many of the talented composers studying at the time. They were a proactive bunch, curating concerts regularly to showcase their works with the help of student ensembles. This was most likely my first encounter performing the works of female composers - up to this point, I had barely been exposed to any standard repertoire by females. I still didn’t even think twice about the gender of the student composers that I was performing for, particularly as there were more male composers in the cohort. This just seemed normal.

Skip ahead a few years to my final year at ANAM. I had just co-founded the contemporary music ensemble Rubiks, with our debut concert featuring two works by female composers. One of these pieces, Kaija Saariaho’s Sept Papillons gained the attention of local composer Lisa Cheney. I was thrilled when she approached me to collaborate on a new work for solo cello and electroacoustic tape, inspired by the Papillon’s and Kaija’s own words on the issue of gender in music. The end result was so emotive and powerful having combined both Lisa and Kaija’s feelings, and I finally realised the depth of the imbalance, particularly for composers. I suddenly felt shocked at the years I had spent without realising how little I knew about the work of female composers and desired to learn more.

My fellowship year at the Australian National Academy of Music has given me a platform to explore so much new repertoire and to hear the voices of these women who write so powerfully. I have discovered some of the most incredible music, and feel so privileged to have been able to expose these works in meaningful venues and with extraordinary musicians. These concerts have blended beautifully with a significant project run by Rubiks this year: in the next few days, the winner of the Pythia Prize, awarded to a female composer we will collaborate with in 2018, will be announced. This will be presented at a portrait concert featuring the music of Meredith Monk, a woman that all ensemble members connect with on a significant level.

This being said, celebrating female composition cannot just be left to passionate individuals or contemporary music ensembles. Standard arts organisations need to be recognising this music more regularly in order to allow for a change in the industry and to break down the unconscious bias toward male composition. This is completely achievable with a slight change in attitude, greater exploration and continuous encouragement of these women who have fought to be heard for too long.

My Rehearsal Room: Lucy Kong

I kind of fell into this line of work, to be perfectly honest! During my final semester at the Sydney Conservatorium of Music, I had in my mind that once the degree needed I would have an intellectual art music career ahead of me. I had never written pop music before at all, and I was really starting to think about what might happen in the years after my tertiary studies. As I was walking out of the Con cafe one afternoon I saw a sign for an international J-Pop call-for-composers and thought, why not? I've long been a Japanophile and I was pretty open-minded about what shape my career would take, so the opportunity presented itself at the perfect time, honestly! The Conservatorium system was (and continues to be) a little highbrow when it comes to creative output, but I figured that if I was writing, I'd be happy, so I called the phone number listed on the poster and it went from there. The man that answered said he was wanting to produce an album and from there I sang on some demos and began my relationship with the company as a composer. Now, I'm part of the songwriting team, meaning we get orders for types of songs, write them and send them back over to Japan. It's an interesting process when you think about it - like in every line of work, you don't become an overnight success in an actual night!

And how to describe J-Pop? It is very melodic and hyperactive! There are so many layers and many, many things going on. I work for a producer whose music is quite dense: I sometimes think it's like fitting as many synths as possible in one track! I was a bit stunned the first time I heard the music and that experience really humbled me and made me really think about what it takes to make a good J-Pop song. It's a difficult field and you have to work really hard to write a song that fits the market. There are a lot of artists working within the genre that I really admire and follow quite carefully. There is so much going on in J-Pop melodies and I think this does give the tracks more emotion. It's also not particularly subtle - it's big and obvious - and I really love that.

I've only been learning Japanese for the past three years, so lyrics are still pretty tricky for me, but you can get so much out of the music as a listener without understanding every word. Aside from the language though, there have been lots of technical skills that I've had to pick up as I go. I didn't have much experience with digital or audio interfaces before I started and as soon as I started producing pop I knew I had to learn the software. It took a while to get those things down: assembling the right gear, working out which microphones were best for recording, what kind of computer would suit my work best. Learning to use my ears in a slightly different way has been an interesting development too - I produce all my own music without being a sound engineer, so figuring out how to use my ears to make the best music possible has been a learning curve! Honestly, though, it's just time and practice. Now I listen back to stuff I wrote in 2011 and think that I didn't know what I was doing! Which in a way is kind of cool, because I can see a really marked progression. My classical background and understanding of Western counterpoint and harmony have helped, I think: when I get sent reference songs I can sit down and listen to them, identifying the chord progressions as I go.

The Conservatorium system is slowly changing to reflect the current artistic climate, I believe, slowly becoming broader to encompass the realistic career progressions of composers. For me, training classically at the Con was a childhood dream and just being there was huge. I do realise that there is a lot of concern from my classmates and colleagues, that you study for years and years in this little bubble and then on graduation you realise you weren't really prepared for the real world. There's never a class you can take about how to remain active as a composer out in the world and how to find work. For me, the best way to counter this was to have an open mind and take every opportunity that arose. I hope young composers remember that it's okay to get your name out into the world, even if you feel too young or too raw. When I made that first phone call after seeing the J-Pop poster, I had no idea what would happen: a testament to the fact that if you're presented with something, you should run with it. The worst thing that can happen if you approach someone with your ideas or your work is that they'll say no, and that gets easier and easier to handle. It's really important in any kind of creative profession that you believe in yourself and your ability.

When I write, usually music begins as a tiny idea in my head and I have to sit at the piano and work it out. Nowadays, I carry manuscript around with me everywhere I go, so I don't have to be that composer embarrassingly humming melodies into my phone! If I'm having a slow writing day, which happens to everyone, I go for a walk, say a prayer and try and avoid the overthinking trap. We artistic types can get stuck in our heads a little too much and getting into nature helps clear the cobwebs a bit. This album that I've been working on is 50% piano works and 40% electro-acoustic tracks and I've worked on each half slightly differently. With the piano works, I work directly at the piano with manuscript paper, whereas the other half comes from a more conceptual place. My sister wrote the poetry and from that springboard, I went about creating imagery and recording sounds that worked alongside. Regardless of those different processes, there is a distinct narrative throughout the whole album, and while it is a fairly personal one, I think it's really relatable. It's a bit of a coming-of-age story and it's been really close to my heart.

The final piano sonata was written for my old piano teacher, Samantha Coates, and it's something I've really wanted to write for about twelve years because if it weren't for her, I don't think I would've gone into music. I had to stop piano lessons because I developed RSI and I kept thinking about the fact I wanted to write this piece, but you know how life gets - time just ran away from me - so when this album came into being I thought it was well and truly time.

My Rehearsal Room: Chris Perren

I came to Western Classical music (art music, concert music, “serious” music if you like) late. And despite edging my way deeper into the classical vortex in the last few years, I’ve always had an uneasy relationship with the whole thing. But recently I found a way of looking at it which I think both humbles and redeems the tradition for me. It requires letting go of some shaky foundations for classical advocacy, and embracing an attribute of the tradition which we don’t usually talk about.

Some of my most important and musically formative years were spent putting on noisy, scummy shows in an underground warehouse. Some friends and I put on around 2 shows a month for a few years, until the increasing audiences and noise complaints forced us to shut down. We put on a lot of post-rock, drone, experimental electronic and indie rock music, and all played in bands ourselves, played in each other’s bands, and generally built a community around music. The ethos of the whole thing was participation, inclusivity, and a DIY approach. We had some really excellent and masterful bands play there, but perhaps more importantly, we had some really terrible bands. We tried hard not to be elitist - embodying an ethos where experiencing music was about more than just making an assessment of its quality.

Cut to 2014 and I am nearing the end of a composition PhD, in which I’ve had a foot in both the indie/electronic/post-rock world, and the high art music world. I’ve had a lot of time to think about what separates the two. I’ve spent a lot of time angsting over entrenched classical elitism, but also puzzling over the seemingly arbitrary indie hipster canon.

Classical music to me often seems like the opposite of what we were doing with the warehouse shows. The kind of bands we booked had often taught themselves how to play their instrument, know how to set up and work a PA, and write all their own music (with varying degrees of originality of course). Bands that rock up with a box of burnt CDRs of music they had recorded themselves in their bedrooms, packaged by hand, with artwork by whoever in the band is most artistically inclined.

Compare that with a musical culture which self-identifies as “high” and “serious.” Training is paramount, separations between composer, performer, and audience are strictly enforced, and press shots (where they exist) are very glossy indeed. Of course we are in a period of change, a lot of classical folks are beginning to really embrace pluralism, and take down the fences which kept out the great unwashed. But the snobbery still runs pretty deep in some circles, and as a outsider coming in, I’ve observed it fairly clearly.

I’ve come to a belief that music isn’t something that you stand back from and assess. The true experience of music is social, cultural, and about so much more than its actual sounds. For almost every culture in human history, music has been about togetherness, participation and community; the anomaly is the last 500 years or so of Western civilisation, in which we’ve managed to turn the most effective human social adhesive into an elite and often divisive intellectual pursuit. Or so goes my usual beef with Classical music.

The misconceived defence of Classical music

So what sets Western classical music apart from everything else, and in particular, recorded “pop” music? The answers to that question rarely convince me. Here’s a few common ones:

1) It’s better/more complex/more sophisticated.

Nope. Goodness and badness are cultural, contextual, subjective. As for more complex or sophisticated, this is only so if you consider it using a framework that is unique to it - where complexity is judged by the discrete notes on the page and the finite relationships between them. The very discreteness of notated music in the Western tradition renders it quite blunt and simple in comparison the continuous and nuanced music of oral cultures. What often misleads people on this point is that they use the only assessment criteria they know - the Western classical paradigm - to compare all the different music of the world and… surprise! Western classical comes out on top! Alas, against the infinity of alternative criteria, no such result.

2) It has a sense of its own history.

This is a slightly better answer, but still very tenuous. It denies that tradition can be important regardless of whether it is put into words and written down. And the unbroken and uncontaminated lineage of Western classical music is a fiction anyway. Culture is messy and interwoven; any line you choose to draw onto that mess is purely to help you understand it, and doesn’t represent some absolute truth. Every other kind of music has an equally rich history, but their proponents just doesn’t obsess over it as much as those in Western Classical music. And besides, how do you logically justify that a longer lineage equals better or more meaningful music anyway? You just as easily argue that it makes music stale.

3) It is a pure and timeless intellectual pursuit, whereas popular music is a commodity to be sold.

Not really. I agree that there exists a spectrum between formulaic music for the market, and truly ambitious music which is made for art rather than commercial success. However, if you think that Western Classical music has a monopoly over the latter, then I suggest you might be fooling yourself. Within the classical tradition, both ends of the spectrum exist, and always have. Just because it’s notated and played by someone in a tuxedo doesn’t automatically mean it isn’t faff written for a buck. Likewise in the pop music realm, there are artists who pursue highly challenging and sophisticated music with no hope of turning much of a profit.

What actually is good about classical?

I’ve found it difficult to distill the essential qualities that set classical music apart from other music in Western culture. So I’ve come back to a more practical distinction: notation. The Western classical tradition is one where the definitive version of a piece is written down, and can be distributed on paper to anyone who would like to play it. With the necessary training, anyone can bring it to life in their living room, classroom or concert hall. You can listen to a recording of it, but it’s kind of secondary - a bonus. It’s essentially written down.

A lot of other music in our culture, by contrast (academics might call it “pop” music but I’m going to try to avoid that misleading term), is primarily recorded. The definitive version exists as a mixed and mastered recording. The recording can be just as easily given away for free as sold, proving that the recorded format isn’t essentially about commerce - it’s just a particular way of doing things. Recorded music is often performed live, and live performance is obviously still really important, but (aside from many notable exceptions) it is subordinate to the definitive recording.

Freedom™ vs. Bunnings™

So, stripped of all of its tenuously constructed airs, Classical music is only really different because it’s written down and interpreted. In a way, recorded music is like a ready-made coffee table bought from a furniture store, and classical scores are like a bunch of wood and screws from a hardware store, ready to be turned into whatever version of a coffee table you have the skills and desire to construct. Notated music is DIY, that’s where it’s value is.

In a time when campfire sing-alongs are increasingly difficult to conduct due to the intense fragmentation of tastes (hey let’s sing some Tegan and Sara! Oh you guys don’t know it. Death Cab? What about Neutral Milk Hotel?), four friends can still sit in a living room with a couple of violins, a viola and cello, and pick up a piece of music none of them have heard before, and assemble it. In the process, they connect with each other, share it, hear it, and experience it together. It may start with a score, but the actual music is in the playing. Since I’ve started doing chamber music, I’ve found this process of reading through a new piece to be really magical, and it’s as connective a musical experience as singing Beatles songs around a campfire.

It’s hard to see the similarities between classically trained musicians and the scummy noise-making punks of DIY culture. I’m sure Steve Albini and Pierre Boulez wouldn’t have that much to talk about if they met. But there is something in the fact that a notated composition can be created and sent to anyone in the world, who may then enjoy the experience of bringing it to life. We’ve inherited a shared system of communicating music, and I think the greatest consequence of that is not in its sophistication, but in its scope for participation. If we can just get over these elitist attitudes of complexity and progress and assessment, then that, at its core, is what is good about the classical tradition. Participation. You don’t need a pulitzer prize, a huge respectful audience, or a trained appreciation of atonality to embrace that. Nor do you need a privileged education or an instrument that cost you more than your car.

I think the most obvious point about this (which shouldn’t even need to be stated) is that different kinds of music aren’t better, they’re just different. You can buy a piece of crap chipboard coffee table for $15 or you can buy an incredible mahogany antique. You can also knock together a shoddy table in a few minutes, or spend some time honing your fine woodworking skills to build something you’ll be really proud of.

From this point of view, the “death of classical music” that everyone keeps talking about is just the death of aspects of classical music that aren’t necessary or enjoyable anyway. It’s the death of huge concert halls, packed out with hushed and uncomfortable people watching one single pianist exhibiting a skillset gained by a lifetime of strictness and stress, probably a huge monetary outlay on the part of their parents, and possibly a few nervous breakdowns. It’s the death of buying packaged recordings of classical music - a medium which it was only ever borrowing anyway. It’s the death of thinking that classical music is better than other music, and I for one welcome that enthusiastically. There will always be a place for weekend carpentry, just as there will always be a place for the Western classical music tradition.

My Rehearsal Room: Jules Pascoe

This is the third show I've worked on with Tobi - in the past I've also lived with him and made music for his sibling Kerith's shows, so our creative process is pretty relaxed and comfortable. I think half the battle is getting on the same page! Tobi sends quite detailed sonic references and notes on the show, while Kerith would send Pinterest mood boards with colour palettes and more conceptual things - both are equally helpful methods. as long as the vision is clear.

For this show, I asked Tobi to come over and we'd start work on it while he prompted me with references. Initially, he came to my studio and we made the music that would eventually turn into the intro for the show: I started on the drum machine and Tobi played some keyboard parts and we just went from there. Later, I added some more synths, distorted guitars and percussion and then we had a piece of music! Tobi definitely helped make the music for this show and we did a few more sessions like this - making music from scratch and having fun. Not all his references were sonic either, sometimes it’d be text he’d been working on, an article about the source text, or something that resonated like a trashy tv show or an old speech. Then, once the mood was set, I went and made the rest of the music solo.

We also saw Brecht’s penchant for writing light operas as an invitation, and even though the original Herr Puntila und sein Knecht Matti only has a couple of songs in it, for this adaptation we’ve pushed that. Sometimes the show’s like being at a gig and other times it’s like being at a realist play.

What I like about making music for theatre is how experimental you can be and also the virtual bands you can make. I perform as a bass player and guitarist in a bunch of Melbourne bands and in none of them could I make a ten-minute synth drone and then bow an acoustic guitar over the top! So for this show - a kind of runaway road trip story - we got to make everything from surf rock to doom metal to trap to country music. And in terms of being experimental, I don't mean harmonically, I mean more sonically: really focusing on the mood of the music and creating a world with distortion and reverbs and effects, and also getting sounds out of instruments that you wouldn't go for in a band "song" setting. For example, I'd send instruments that weren't guitars to guitar amps and guitar pedals and record them back into the arrangement, things like that.

For this show, I used an MPC 1000 drum machine using various drum samples from real Melbourne drummers, my Billy Hydes percussion-for-beginners set, electric guitar and bass, acoustic guitar, double bass, lots of guitar pedals and some synths. I used both the Roland Space Echo, which is an 80s analogue real tape echo and the modern Teenage Engineering OP-1 quite a bit throughout the score. Both of these pieces of equipment are quite unpredictable and sent me down sonic rabbit holes that I couldn't have imagined without them. I like to be lead by the instrument or the piece of gear I'm using at the time I guess, as opposed to channelling a symphony orchestra, which unfotunately, I cannot do!

Our Rehearsal Room: Callisto Quartet

Not long ago, we had the privilege of playing for Mathieu Herzog, founding violist of the Quatuor Ébène and one of our great chamber music idols. When he found out that we had been playing together for just over a year, he smiled knowingly and said, “Ah, so you are still in paradise.”

We have heard dozens of similar comments before. As a quartet, we spent the summer at the Norfolk Chamber Music Festival for six weeks and from there went directly to the McGill International String Quartet Academy for two more weeks. We spent almost every waking moment together, inside and outside of rehearsal - and we loved it. People who have made these tongue-in-cheek comments to us about our “newness,” mostly alluding to the fact that we have not yet grown to hate each other, are simply assuming (sometimes from personal experience) that our fondness for each other and our passion for what we do is due to our relative inexperience.

We are still in the “honeymoon period” of our string quartet relationship - still in love with each other and the music we are able to play and excited about what the future holds. Paradise.

However, the road to paradise is not an easy one. People say playing in a string quartet is a four-way marriage, and that is something I have found to be true. Relationships take a great deal of time and effort, and I know that each of us work hard every day at our relationship with each other and with the music that we play, always striving to find better ways to communicate with each other, and taking the time out of our own busy schedules to do so. It is certainly not always easy or fun, and we have our fair share of disagreements just like everyone else. Our quartet actually did not begin as four friends coming together to play music, but as four people who love chamber music more than anything in the world, who began playing together and became friends along the way. To me, this is the essence of who we are. Our friendship grew over time out of a mutual respect for each other and one common passion - string quartets - which has connected us in unexpected and deeply important ways, and now, just a year later, I cannot imagine my life without these three, who have come to be my greatest inspirations and my closest friends.

Although we are still a young quartet, we are at a crucial point in our life together.

Currently we are the Apprentice Quartet at the Cleveland Institute of Music, a position which provides us concert and outreach opportunities in the Cleveland area and allows us the extra time we need to rehearse (right now we are in the midst of several weeks of recording sessions as we are preparing for several competitions this year, and finding enough rehearsal and recording time can be a challenge). Each of us is working on a different degree program in school, but we have made arrangements so that we will all graduate in two years together, and we then plan on applying to quartet residencies at various schools around the United States, with the ultimate goal of a career as a professional string quartet. It is not an easy career path that we have chosen, and we are all too aware of the practical challenges we will face as we move forward - for example, for the majority of schools with a string quartet residency program, there is often only one spot for a student quartet, which may only open up every two years. String quartet playing is one of the most competitive and specialized fields within the already difficult field of classical music, and sometimes even when all the right elements are in place and the stars have aligned it can be close to impossible to make it professionally.

So how will we attempt to make it? From a practical point of view, we have done a great deal of planning. We have mapped out the next two years, in a general sense, and have a list of competitions, festivals, and schools that we hope to apply for. We have talked at various points over the year about our long-term goals as an ensemble to make sure we are all always on the same page. On a small scale, we plan out our rehearsals in great detail, compiling a composite schedule for our daily rehearsals and keeping in mind deadlines of recordings, the repertoire we need to learn, and any upcoming performances we need to prepare for. Even though we all know that the best-laid plans sometimes fail, there is never harm in developing a unified way to work toward our goals together.

Being practical about the realities of the planning, hard work, sacrifice, and commitment involved in becoming a professional string quartet is absolutely necessary, but being able to stand being around each other through this life together requires a much different process.

During the summer we had a few life-changing coaching sessions with some really incredible musicians. They were all, of course, extremely musically inspiring, but what shifted for us this summer was learning from them how to communicate most effectively and empathetically with each other.

For an art form that is built around the idea of connection, the actual work of cultivating that connection can be a surprisingly difficult thing to do. At the suggestion of one of our mentors, we all sat down together and talked about what makes us happy or lights us up, what brings us down, what enables us to perform at our best, and what we need from each other when we are at our worst. We talked about our strengths, what we each bring to the quartet, and what type of role each of us fills in the group. This kind of discussion requires a deep, sometimes uncomfortable vulnerability and trust, but when we are actively working to build these relationships with one another, it makes us better musicians onstage and brings us closer offstage. Our willingness to be so vulnerable with each other, even when it is difficult, is to me a sign of just how much we want this.

In many ways we may still be very much in paradise, enchanted by the idea of spending our lives doing what we love with the people that we love, with deep meaning and human connection at the center of what we do. This idea is naive, of course, because of the enormous amount of work that goes into doing what we want to do, but it is that very idea that we all fell in love with and that drew us to the magic of playing string quartets. Naive as it may be, it does not make our paradise any less real, nor does it invalidate the work we currently do, the challenges we will inevitably face, or the relationships we have built together. I have no idea what will happen for us in the future, but for now I am more than happy living in our string quartet paradise.

My Rehearsal Room: Victoria Pham

New music comes with a variety of connotations. Experimental. Abstract. Weird. Niche. Incomprehensible. Exclusive. Electronic. Immersive… the list goes on. In some ways, they’re all true but to be completely honest, they’re all at odds with one another. Trying to box new music and art into a single definition is like going to Aldi and only buying the one thing you came in for. There are just too many colours, textures and ideas sitting on shelves waiting for us to fleetingly notice in our peripheral vision.

But in all seriousness, where does experimental music and art lie in a contemporary [and Australian] landscape? It’s a question that I have no answer to and, perhaps, that’s the best state to be in. In an effort to question my own practice, I’ve quickly learnt that collaboration is not just great fun – let’s face it, what’s the point if you don’t get to work with equally quirky and enthusiastic people – but key to developing an understanding of where your own vision lies within a broader context. That’s not to say that you cannot maintain individuality while being faced with the challenges of communal creation.

In 2016, Sonant Bodies was established as a sound-art collective between composer James Maher and myself. We’ve been lucky enough to be included in an array of festivals, from VIVID to the Sydney Fringe Festival 2017. Our next set of performances is in collaboration with Newcastle-based flautist, Sarah Monk as part of the Crack Theatre Festival at the THIS IS NOT ART Festival. Masterminded by Sarah herself, the Sound of Spaces performance unlocks the sonic and musical potential of public and private spaces for a blindfolded audience.

By playing with senses, electronic soundscapes and live performance (flute, melodica and voice), our collective sets of compositions allow for the exploration of music that goes beyond the border (if such a frontier exists) of the acoustic. It is a multi-sensory approach that is fascinating and very much, for me as a composer, in its early days of development. Understanding how sounds operate and move within specific spaces has been a recurring motif in our group discussions since Sonant Bodies started to our current work with Sarah. You could say that it’s a concept that has ground our individual work into a central theme. Again, it was only though extensive collaboration and experimentation that such a consensus could have been reached.

James, aside from being a composer, is also a poet, Sarah a flautist and performer, and myself a composer and bizarrely, an archaeologist. Our eclectic mixture of interests all find a central focal point in music. It is the ability to exchange hundreds of seemingly unconnected ideas with the purpose of creating music out of them that is the result of collaboration. It doesn’t really matter what our background is, no two individuals will be the same (and sometimes it means learning to negotiate) so connecting on a project is also an opportunity to refine your own artistic choices.

What has also proven to be incredibly valuable is maintaining a collaborative spirit that spreads across two districts, Sydney and Newcastle, where the three of us a based. It is a testament that art is ubiquitous and as a consequence, welcomed in areas regardless if they are metropolitan or regional. I had never intended to stumble so deep into the realm of sound-art installation and for that, I am very grateful for the training that the Sydney Conservatorium gave me. Although I have occasionally had accusations of not being a true ‘composer’ or ‘musician’ and that such a venture is really into the world of art, I have come to think that new music is about multi-disciplinary collaboration and exploration. Whether or not you want to exhibit the sounds of a found object to composing a new work for string quartet to writing for instruments you have little experience with to transforming field recordings to cut to a film, these are all modes of new music.

New music isn’t exclusive or incomprehensible. I won’t deny that sometimes it can be bizarre or a little strange, but perhaps that is just a reflection of the modern world and the myriad of people who occupy it.

My Rehearsal Room: Michael MacManus

How did this festival come to exist? The TLDR answer is through a lot of hard work. But don’t let that discourage you from creating your own festival! The benefits far outweigh all the hard work. Plus, you get to call yourself “Director of…” which is pretty cool! Hopefully, this piece will give you an insight into the motivation behind creating the Melbourne International Guitar Festival with my colleague and friend Evan Hopkins, and some of the things we have learnt along the way.

We had been disheartened by small attendance at guitar recitals over the years - a problem most likely familiar to many kinds of classical and non-classical musicians - but the real catalyst for us came in 2014 when a duo we loved were visiting Australia but bypassing Melbourne due to the poor concert attendance they experienced last time they were in town. Something needed to be done, so we took it upon ourselves to organise our own concert series, to avoid other guitarists skipping Melbourne in the future.

We became a registered partnership, created a website, got insurance, and took a risk. We guaranteed fees for our invited artists and knew that it was our money on the line if things fell through. We were actually friends with many of the artists we booked and didn't want to let them down, which was a huge motivation to make the event a success. We had no intention of making money for ourselves, we just wanted to support fellow artists and hear some awesome concerts. Evan had recently returned from guitar study in Spain, and he was super pumped after attending a heap of guitar festivals throughout Europe. With this enthusiasm, we decided to start our own classical guitar festival and competition in Melbourne. Building on our concert series, this felt like a natural progression for us.

One thing that has helped generate a lot of interest in our festival has been incorporating a competition component. This has helped involve a lot of young guitar students and their families, as well as more established students and professionals, and since our first festival in 2015, the competition has attracted over 50 competitors each year. This feels like a huge milestone considering many other local eisteddfods routinely cancel their guitar categories due to insufficient applications. How did we do this? Phone calls….and lots of phone calls! We personally reach out to all the guitar teachers we know and encourage their student involvement.

What about sponsorship? Starting out, it’s a lot about who you know, and the best way to meet interesting (and interested!) people is by attending concerts and related music events. You must be involved in your instruments "scene" if you plan to create a career in that area. Our sponsors include people we have met at music events, people I worked with through my “Career Preparation in Music” subject at uni, previous high school music teachers (Old Skool Audio, run by Evan’s ex-music teacher kindly do the sound engineering and recordings for our concerts), local guitar shops and string suppliers, and of course the Melbourne Conservatorium of Music where we both studied. As university students, it's important to keep in mind is that you are on show from day one of your music degree, and good impressions count!

We have cash prizes for all categories in our festival, but since the beginning, we were thinking about ways to add value to the prize package. The feedback we received from artists is that they would get so much out of a concert tour, so our prize package planning began. We are now supported by large venues such as the Darwin Entertainment Centre, Araluen Arts Centre (Alice Springs), a number of regional NSW conservatoriums, and other concert providers throughout Australia. This year, the winner will walk away have a 9 concert Australian tour and a cash prize, with a value of $10,000. So we have our sponsors, stall holders, and prizes sorted, and we've invited and booked our artists.

What’s next? Learning how to sell! This is a crucial skill that is unfortunately not being taught in any music departments yet. In terms of importance, however, I would consider it to be as vital as learning how to play your instrument! To make a career as a musician, you need to be comfortable with selling, because it's something you do every day in one form or another, whether it be acquiring students, booking gigs, selling recordings/compositions, persuading someone to sponsor your event or getting people to buy tickets to your concert or event. How do you get good at this? The same way as you get good at your instrument: by practicing.

So, if you are thinking about starting your own festival, my best advice is to just jump in! It’s a hugely rewarding experience, you will make lifelong friends and perhaps most importantly, you will get to create your dream concerts.

My Rehearsal Room: Nina Marsh

I’m currently preparing the role of Yum-yum for Chatswood Musical Society’s Hot Mikado and it’s been such an exciting process. The rehearsal period has been relatively short and it’s completely different from anything I’ve ever down before – it’s funny and slapstick, and the dialogue moves along so rapidly! The plot is silly and confusing but so much fun to put together. There are 22 of us in the cast and we’ve become great friends. My character Yum-Yum is young and naïve and in a lot of ways, a typical romantic lead, but there are a few lines that prove she has some real feistiness about her too. It has been really important for me to develop that, and I guess I can see some of my own fire in her. During the last few weeks of rehearsal you can really get stuck into the character: the lines are learnt and the blocking is set, so you’ve got space to develop. I remember in drama school a teacher saying that it was useful to explore each character as having all elements of fire, wind and water within them, and then work through the dialogue deciding which element to bring out. That gives you lots of choice and helps you determine why your character is saying what they’re saying.

Drama school was the best, the worst and the most challenging three years of my life. The system really does break you down and then builds you back up to try and make you a more open minded human and actor, which is tough but if you can get through it, it helps enormously. The outside world is incredibly tough on all creative people and drama school does try and get you ready for that. One of the most important things I learnt was that you never stop learning about your character, not even on closing night, and if you can continue to find things out about your part’s motivations and convictions you’ll always keep it fresh and interesting for both yourself and your audience. And that no matter what, you have to be a team player. No person in a cast is more important than another, regardless of the size of their part. When you find a company that makes those relationships a first priority it is the most wonderful thing. I’m from the UK, and when I moved to Sydney originally the first thing I did was find a company to act with, because when you get that right cast it feels like family.

When you first get out of drama school, the pressure is enormous, and I remember going to auditions and getting down to the very last two people being looked at for a part and not getting chosen, which was absolutely soul destroying. It can feel so incredibly lonely, particularly when you’ve spent so long with your colleagues at school where everyone knows your strengths and weaknesses and it doesn’t matter so much when you mess up. My first audition out of school was for Les Miserables and I couldn’t control my anxiety at all: I stood in front of the panel feeling so alone and naked. Rejection is always hard and often times you don’t learn that until it hits you in the face.

Learning best how to look after your mental health is crucial for all artists and you don’t get taught that in school. It’s a tough job and because there’s so much competition it’s sometimes hard to feel good about the work you’re putting in. You have to have a thick skin, which is hard when you suffer from anxiety which I have done since my teens. Since moving to Australia though, things have improved. I haven’t “cured” it by any means, but I have a super support network around me and that helps me manage it better. I really believe that there shouldn’t be any shame in discussing mental health and anxiety in this industry, or any industry for that matter – we all go through the same things and we should be able to talk to each other about that!

It’s important also to be truthful to yourself and others about balance: it’s not always possible. I work full-time while pursuing theatre and sometimes you’ve got to focus on one thing at a time. When I finished with the last show I was part of I had to take a break, because sometimes you need to do things after work that aren’t rehearsals. Now that I’m back in another show, my nights off are sacred time and I try and do as many life-admin things as possible! When it’s been a long day and I’ve been sitting in front of a screen and forgetting I’m a creative person I have to come home and just belt out a song. It’s a bit like Bridget Jones’ Diary where she’s in her pyjamas singing “All By Myself”! But seriously, it works.

If I could give young creative people one word of advice it would be to talk to people about you’re going through. If you’re struggling with rejection and the stresses of the industry, reach out to someone – your GP, your friends and family or a mental health professional. Allow them to take that weight off your shoulders. I didn’t speak about my struggles for a really long time but keeping it in just made me feel even worse about myself and my progress. I really urge people to be brave and share.

My Rehearsal Room: Michael Brooks Reid

I was part of the Melbourne Youth Orchestras program for 5 or 6 years back in the day, from around the age of 15 and 16 up until the end of university in my early 20’s! Being involved in the program had an enormous impact on me both musically and personally and I had some of my most influential orchestral experiences with the organisation. The experience of being in an orchestra like that and having the opportunity to play the huge works that make up the orchestral canon was a really important time in my life, and those pieces are now a part of my everyday life as a professional violinist. Those initial experiences gave me an idea of how amazing and powerful music can be, particularly when playing with a community of enthusiastic and like-minded performers. That social element of the orchestra was also super important; I had the opportunity to meet lots of people my age and we have since stayed in touch. A lot of us made the jump from high school to university together and all those valuable connections with other musicians that I met in MYO set me off on the trajectory of a career in music.

Being back with the orchestra has been an amazing experience, and I’m lucky to be working with the conductor Paul Fitzsimons, who, coincidentally, was also in the same MYO ensemble as me in high school! It’s so special to have had that experience as young people and now be back working together as professionals. I said to him the other day, “they all look so young! Did we ever look this young?” It’s a fun experience seeing all these baby faces and remembering how we were once sitting in those very seats. The players we are working with are so enthusiastic and supportive and I feel very welcome. It’s also particularly special performing the Brahms, which I first encountered at university more than 10 years ago, but only ever with piano accompaniment. To perform the work again with an orchestra is a really exciting opportunity as it is a really special piece of music – perhaps one of my favourites. When I got the call about playing it I was so enthusiastic! Hearing and performing this piece with a great orchestra is really special – it’s often performed with just the piano accompaniment which is okay but it makes such a huge difference with the orchestral arrangement behind it. The writing is so rich and extensive – it’s a symphony with a violin solo, really.

When you’re young, the opportunity to play the broad range of repertoire that MYO offers is an important experience. It gives you a musical grounding that allows you to perform any kind of work, really. I learnt so much in those formative years in the orchestra about what it means to be a musician: it’s one thing going to lessons week after week and very occasionally giving a solo performance, but until you play with other people in a setting where professionalism is really expected of you, you won’t understand fully what it’s all about. I had played with other youth and student ensembles, but it wasn’t until I got into MYO, where Peter Bandy (the conductor at the time) expected you to perform like professionals, not only on stage, but off. That really gave us an idea of what a career would look like and what it meant to play together as an ensemble. When things weren’t tight, ensemble-wise, Peter would often set up a passage then stop conducting to see if we were able to fix things up ourselves. He would always be telling us to listen to one another, which is of course incredibly helpful in developing a sense for chamber music in an orchestral setting. Wherever you end up with your playing, communication is key.

I’ve been trying to bring that philosophy into our recent MYO rehearsals by facing the orchestra, which helps us get to know each other and makes the experience feel a little more like chamber music. The Brahms is incredibly symphonic, and while the spotlight is often on the violin solo, there are periods where I’m accompanying different solos across the orchestra and creating an open line of communication in these moments is important.

I’ve learnt a lot from my experiences as a performer in Europe, having played with several different chamber groups and orchestras alongside some amazing soloists and conductors. When you’re travelling, I think you’ve got to soak up all of the experiences being thrown at you! There is a lot of moving around, with musicians often playing with several different ensembles. The first time you go into a new orchestra you have to slot in and look around to see what everyone else is doing and see how best you can fit; it’s important to know a little bit about the group before you arrive. Then you start working regularly with the same groups. While I am travelling a lot, it’s often with people I’ve played with before, now.

As a young musician, having an idea of what you might like to do is really helpful. Having such positive experiences with MYO really led me down the track of studying and performing professionally, but it wasn’t really until after university when I arrived at ANAM to realise that I really wanted to throw everything I had behind playing the violin. It’s easy to meander a little bit through your studies and early professional like, but if you don’t put in the work and enthusiasm it doesn’t matter how much talent you have. There are so many opportunities around you as a young performer – you’ve sometimes got to crack out of the practice room and be find people to play with.

My Rehearsal Room: Natalie Aroyan

When I first picked up the score of Aida two years ago, I was full of many emotions: I was excited to finally engross myself in this Verdi masterpiece and be transported to the times of Ancient Egypt; I felt honoured tobe given the responsibility of a title role, particularly one of such depth and magnitude; I felt confident that I would be able to portray Verdi’s heroine and do her justice; and finally, I felt that in fact, I would be ready for this milestone in my career.

Before I even opened to the first page of this glorious music, I knew that I had a fair bit of research to do, as I always do before learning any new role.

It is important to learn when and where the opera takes place, so that one may have a better understanding of their character’s role in society, as well as the social and historical context of the story, all of which affect the dramatic intentions and inevitable portrayal of the character.

I have a great affinity with and interest in Ancient Egyptian history. After studying the subject intensely in high school, I travelled to Egypt and visited all the ancient sites with my mother, as it is her birthplace, and soaked up all the richness of the culture. As such, I already had a keen sense of the history and place and the way of life during the times of the Pharaohs. Having seen all the ancient artefacts and monuments in all their glory, it was very easy for me to place myself and look through Aida’s eyes.

Next, it’s time to analyse the story and the relationships between the characters. The story and significance of Aida, I believe, can be interpreted differently by the different characters in the opera. It can be about love, war, betrayal or freedom. For Aida, an Ethiopian princess/slave, her life is about the suffering and perpetual torment she endures, caused by having to choose between her forbidden love and saving her people. For Amneris (an Egyptian princess) it is about unrequited love and betrayal, for Radames (an Egyptian hero) it is about honour and leading his army to victory with his love by his side, and for Amonasro (Aida’s father) it is about the peace and prosperity of his people and their freedom.

Ultimately, Aida is about how much suffering one woman must endure as she chooses between the greater good of her people and the forbidden love she has for her Egyptian hero, knowing full well that one decision will forsake the other.

Most of this character analysis is done through studying the text of the opera, after which it is time to consult the language and diction coach, Nicole Dorigo. Knowing and studying the text is a crucial element in preparing for a role as it gives you a clear indication of the composer’s and writer’s intentions. We are very fortunate to have such a knowledgeable and world renowned diction coach at Opera Australia to assist us with this next step. We discuss the intentions of each phrase, find the poetry and reason for using certain words and phrases at certain musical points in the opera. We also spend time perfecting the diction, as this opera is in Italian, and ultimately saying the words correctly makes them much easier to sing. It is all connected and there is a reason for everything, that’s why Verdi and composers of his ilk are geniuses.

The next step in my preparation was to finally look at the music of my role. It is important for me to be musically correct by studying the different time signatures and tempi, especially in ensemble pieces so that we are all in time together with the orchestra. I also study the dynamics and markings that have been written by the composer and gain a better understanding of the intentions for the character of Aida. I then need time to learn the music for myself, by repetition, before I am ready to take it to my voice teacher, Liliya Ovchiyan. My voice teacher and I worked through every individual phrase and nuance of the role and once I had her approval that I was meeting the vocal demands of the piece I was then ready to take it to my vocal coach at Opera Australia. We are extremely fortunate to have such an amazing staff of coaches who are so remarkably experienced and supportive in the way they prepare us technically for roles. Last but not least, the final person I showcase Aida for is the conductor. We go through the score and organise and collaborate on ideas. We then work together to ensure the best possible use of my talents for the benefit of the opera.

Fortunately for me, my Artistic Director Lyndon Terracini, provided me with numerous opportunities to perform the two Aida arias before a public audience: I have sung those two arias over thirty times on the stage of the Sydney Opera House. That experience is priceless when it comes to performing the role in its entirety. The arias become second nature.

It is now finally time to commence the staging rehearsals in Brisbane. Over three weeks we stage the complete opera with the Director, Hugh Halliday, and our brilliant Stage Managers whom we would be lost without; the Stage Managers are the glue that holds a production together and the gears that keep it moving. Working with Hugh is great, because not only does he have great vision and knows how to achieve a beautiful picture, he also allows room for collaboration and input from the singers, and always making sure we are comfortable.

It is an immense honour to work with Maestro Tahu Matheson on this production. He is an extremely brilliant conductor and has such great instinct in leading and following singers and bringing out the very best in their performance. He has made the rehearsal period so easy and enjoyable with his constant support and guidance.

Two years in the making… the final steps before Aida is ready for the public. We perform the final dress rehearsals next week upon the golden sands of Coolangatta Beach that have been transformed to the mythological sand dunes of Ancient Egypt. We travel back in time to the land of the Pharaohs among the set on the beach with its grandiose display of sphinxes glistening under the night sky. The final rehearsal involves getting used to the set in full costume, checking microphones, watching out for the live camels, testing the display of fireworks, and having the time of my life with an all-star cast.

Aida is ready!

My Rehearsal Room: Bart Aerbeydt

My father was a music lover and we listened to records growing up. When I was quite young, maybe 6 or 7, I picked up a recording of Mozart’s Horn Concerto No 4 and I knew that I wanted to play that instrument. I was so taken by the sound of the horn and started asking if I could start lessons. I was told that I was too small at the time to start playing the horn and a music teacher suggested I start on the trumpet, which I absolutely did not want to do! I was really adamant about the french horn and I started lessons not much later.

I don’t really know what it was about the sound of the horn that initially captured me so much - sometimes you just connect with your instrument, perhaps. When I initially discovered the natural horn and realised what it was I did not understand it at all! I must have been 15 or 16 at the time, and to me, it just sounded weird and strange, but something about it kind of stuck with me and I became fascinated by the idea of trying it out. It’s funny because now I can’t imagine the repertoire on anything but a natural horn. I do understand people’s initial reaction (including mine!) because the sound is genuinely different. Mozart did know how to write for the horn extremely well though, and listening and performing now, I can hear all the notes that are best suited to the natural instrument.

When you make the transition from modern horn to natural, things do change a little bit technically. When I decided to take up the new instrument, my teacher was hesitant, thinking that it was going to be more useful for me to continue playing the modern horn which would allow me to join a symphonic orchestra in Europe. That pathway struck me as old-fashioned and from the first time I saw early music, I knew it was for me. Performing with a specialist early music ensemble is a lot like playing chamber music, just in a slightly bigger group. I did start out my career wanting to be in a traditional orchestra and did spend a number of years performing in this setting, but I got to a point where I started thinking “is this what I want?” It turned out that it wasn’t and I had to start looking for something else. Luckily, I already this fascination with early music, so the transition was easier than it could have been. There was definitely a marked period of adjustment though, and that was hard. You can absolutely get away with playing both modern and natural horn at the same time for a little more, but there comes a point when a focus is needed, and for me, it’s now all about the natural.

In conservatories and schools around Europe, you can start playing natural horn relatively early in your studies and for a while, that duel-study really helps but if you overdo it can work against your progress and exploration of the modern horn. A special thing about the specialisation is that the scene is relatively small - not only in Europe but across the world. It’s very international as well, and you often meet and play with the same people, which is really nice. The general public’s interest in early music is growing as well, I think. It used to be that specialist groups stuck to Bach and Haydn, but a broader range of composers are now being performed, which allows me to perform on some different period instruments. I suppose it is a pity that I can’t play Mahler symphonies anymore, but it’s really allowed me to enjoy listening to them instead! That’s quite freeing: being able to step back and enjoy the music you performed as a student.

I enjoy jazz as well, and while I don’t have the option of improvising very often on the horn, there is a freedom about early music that you don’t often get in traditional orchestras. Comparatively, there’s less of a feeling of playing things the “right” way - we can experiment and share openly about style and inflection. During this rehearsal process with the Australian Brandenburg Orchestra, we are all able to share our thoughts on the work and suggest new possibilities. The leader, the soloist and the musicians all have equal opportunity to speak. I remember in one of my first early music orchestral experiences when I was just a casual performer, the conductor came up to me and asked what I thought about the tempo, and I was so taken aback! I thought, “why are you asking me? I’m the fourth horn player!” It’s really easy when you sit in a big ensemble to get used to not being asked for your opinion. Early music is all about collaboration, no matter where in the world you travel. I think that’s pretty amazing!

My Rehearsal Room: Lyndon Green

This year as Young Songmaker with Songmakers Australia, I have had the great pleasure of working with Andrea Katz, Artistic Director of Songmakers Australia. Together we have been preparing a recital program of songs by Paolo Tosti, Henri Duparc, Ludwig van Beethoven and Erich Korngold. Consisting of sixty minutes of music, this concert on September 23 will mark my most ambitious program to date.

So what can I convey of my experiences so far? Well, it has been stimulating, challenging and rigorous. In light of my previous education and past experience, I somewhat regard this period as a second growth spurt; a period of enlightenment, if you will. As a teen, growing up in Melbourne and set upon becoming an airline pilot, I was not at all interested in the arts or literature. Although I really enjoyed singing in choirs and rock bands, other forms of art never took my fancy. Additionally, my talent as a singer did not really become apparent until the age of seventeen, when I auditioned for the role of Nanki-Poo in The Mikado as part of a school production at Scotch College, Melbourne. Having really enjoyed that experience, I decided to pursue singing further by majoring in voice at the University of Melbourne, Melbourne Conservatorium of Music, which is where Andrea and I first met.

In my first year, I was fortunate to join the Trinity College Choir. For someone with relatively little understanding of musical theory (I could barely read music!) and the classical world in general, I think it was a miracle in retrospect that I was offered a position in the Choir at all. Thankfully, I was admitted and by the end of my first year in the Choir, I had developed the confidence and skill to sight-read just about anything that came my way. Following the conclusion of my studies at the University, unsurprisingly there were still many gaps in my knowledge as a young artist. My work with Andrea this year has helped enormously to address and bridge some of these gaps. Andrea has pushed me to explore and incorporate knowledge and ideas from not only icons of the music and singing world but also of other art forms: painters, poets, influential thinkers, etc. The study of artists like Gauguin, Baudelaire and Van Gogh (to name a few) has contributed to understanding of my chosen vocal works in ways I did not expect.

Though sometimes reluctant due to its seemingly foreign nature, I have been opened to embrace these other marvellously interconnected fields. Some of my prescribed reading has included The Little Prince (Antoine de Saint-Exupéry), Narcissus and Goldmund, as well as The Glass Bead Game by Hermann Hesse.I have also learned a great deal more about the symbiotic relationship between pianist and singer and the responsibilities we have to each other in order to keep the lines of communication open. Andrea has inspired me to uncover not only musical details written in the score that may not be directly apparent but to also explore the culture and period in history in which these songs were conceived. It has become clear that one must look beyond the vocal line and study the piano or orchestral parts as well. We have also discussed the significance of colour and what certain colours represent in nature and culture.

For instance, the colour white being a symbol of innocence and purity while green represents nature or envy. These ideas were previously little known to me and have aided my understanding of song texts.Another discovery I have made recently has been in relation to possessing absolute pitch and its practical implications for a professional singer. Since the age of fifteen, I have been using perfect (absolute) pitch to my advantage in musical endeavours and I have come to realise, unfortunately, that it is somewhat of a double-edged sword. Not only does one need to be able to switch it off at will when working in a cappella or Baroque settings and actually start listening more carefully, but I have also found it has had a negative impact on my ability as a singer to produce a tone of absolute clarity, purity and evenness — qualities for which a singer must constantly strive.

For me, discovering this has forced me to rethink my listening skills in a way that I never anticipated. To always be in the process of learning new things and adopting that permanent mindset of the ‘student‘ has been most beneficial. My physical training as an athlete over the years taught me the same principle: one must always be on the lookout for new information. However, it is only more recently that I have made this connection with my music. Now as a young artist, I feel like an empty vessel in a shipyard that is gradually having equipment and infrastructure added to it: an engine room, rudders, a navigation system, artillery cannons, food supplies, crates of wine for emergencies—you get the idea. The progress I have made thus far as a Young Songmaker, while at times frustrating, has given me insight into the way I function and has motivated me to ensure continued growth over time. “Complacency is the death of art“. I have come to really embrace this philosophy in my practices.

If I had to pinpoint just one aspect which has served as a real revelation for me this year as a pre-professional artist — one that is still very much honing their craft—it would be my realisation as to the sheer amount of energy and concentration demanded of a professional singer at work. Through these sessions with Andrea as well as those with my own vocal coach Raymond Lawrence, I have learnt (soberingly) that losing focus even for a split-second can have a significant impact on not only the quality of sound but what the audience hears and feels as well. There have been occasions in rehearsal where Andrea, in her frustration, has loudly reproached me for ruining a special musical moment that would have stayed alive had I not lost concentration suddenly. This has been great feedback.

At the time of writing we are officially three weeks out from our performance, and Beethoven’s An die Ferne Geliebte would easily be my favourite part of this program. Fashioned as one continuous piece, this song-cycle makes you feel a great deal what the poet Alois Isidor Jeitteles writes about. It is an absolute gem and I feel quite privileged to be able to present it along with the rest of our program to our audience on September 23.I have no doubt there will be many more growth spurts to come!

My Rehearsal Room: Tamara Kohler

When I saw the statistics regarding the number of male vs female composers published through the Australian Music Centre, I honestly had to do a double take. I think we all realistically assume that the number is going to be lower, because societally that’s what has sadly come to be expected, but I didn’t realise the difference would be so staggering. Of course, looking back historically, there are a number of factors that have contributed to this, but it’s perhaps easy to fall into the trap of thinking that because we’re in 2017 things must have evened out. Now that we’re finding our feet as an ensemble we feel like it’s time to have a go at our real goal which is collaborative commissioning: working with composers in a really creatively rich environment to make new works.

The Pythia Prize is really the next step in that direction, coming from our awareness that females are generally underrepresented in the industry and wanting to really celebrate what women are producing. When Kaylie and I went to the Darmstadt Festival we attended a panel about gender issues in the classical music and composition industries and spent the whole time nudging each other, simultaneously frustrated and inspired to change things. During that Festival, a movement called GRID emerged - Gender Relations in Darmstadt - which got everyone really involved in considering what could be done about remedying the underrepresentation of females: posters with pictures of female composers were pasted up around the campus and an open think tank was run where artists could write about their own experiences. A lot of people went away from the Festival inspired to put on their own concerts featuring the incredible work of female composers in their home countries and this project is inspired in turn by our experience at Darmstadt.

Applications for the Pythia Prize open today and the process is relatively straightforward: we’re asking that applicants answer a few questions and submit score and recording examples. We have a blind panel set up to review the applications and we’ll announce the winner at our October concert in the Melbourne Recital Centre. From there, we’ll meet with our composer to discuss ideas and intentions and begin the workshopping process early next year before we premiere the work in May here in Melbourne and later in the year at the Darmstadt Festival. Ensuring that we give the work a number of performances is really important to us, because pieces need a few outings before they can take on a life of their own and be performed by other groups which is absolutely our intention. It’s also important to us that those intending to apply for the prize know that while we may only be financially able to choose one winner, the real intention is to celebrate all female artists and that there will be other opportunities later in our programming to perform other works from the process. We’re also creating this to be a yearly prize and part of that thinking is being able to create a real bank of works by female composers.

I don’t think it is enough to say that there are people out in the world programming female composers and therefore, they’re fixing the problem. While it is great to make a statement, I think it’s more important to focus on the follow up: what will we be doing in three years to continue championing female composers? We’re going to document the whole process from applications to premiere and this will inform what the prize looks like moving forward. The initial creative development is really important to us, because it’s an opportunity to really get to know the composer and work in a collaborative way that help to make a much more intimate piece in the end. We’re hoping to have three sessions with the composer of a couple of days each, initially talking about basic things like instrumentation and programmatic elements, then moving through to sketches, ideas and experimentation and finally polishing up a final work. It can be a lonely process for composers - creating a work in isolation, then handing it over to the musicians and not getting any more say - so working in this real team way will hopefully help bring out a really wonderful work that wouldn’t be possible in any other creative process. Dancers and theatre-makers work like this, so why shouldn’t musicians and composers? I honestly can’t wait to see what we come up with.

The work that will come out of the Pythia Prize will actually be one of the first works commissioned for the entire Rubiks ensemble, which feels like a really big step and a way to take all our group to the next level. It’s been an exciting few years: we actually got together at the beginning of 2014 and didn’t get our first concert off the ground until the end of 2015, but since then it has been a busy and wonderful learning experience. I got given some advice recently about project-building that I think really summarises what we’re doing right now: you should dream up the biggest project you can think of and plan to execute it in the most elaborate and dramatic way and then scale back as necessary rather than thinking within your capabilities. Of course sometimes things fall over, but if you don’t go big, you’ll never know what you were really capable of.

My Rehearsal Room: Adrian Tamburini

I just came back from performing in the recent Opera Australia regional tour and it really reminds you how extraordinary Australia is: there are so many unique and wonderful communities across the country, and it is a great privilege for me to bring the joy of opera to places that wouldn’t necessarily experience this kind of music in another capacity. I think it is incredibly important to share this music on the community’s terms rather than in a major concert hall! Taking a show on the road means you really have to adjust the way you live: there are no comforts. You live out of a suitcase and you have to adjust a lot of your routines, particularly how you warm up and prepare for performance. When you’re in a hotel, you can’t really be doing vocal exercises in your room because you’re going to disturb someone! It’s important to be mindful. Usually I like to get into work early and do a proper warm up when I’m in Sydney, so this is something that has to be adjusted, as often we’re not performing in venues that have the space for that. Psychologically and emotionally, it’s important to have a great support system on tour and we were incredibly lucky - the cast and crew were completely amazing. I think that’s one of the most important things, the other being diet and exercise. I know that if I’m staying healthy, I’ll sing well because I won’t be feeling additional physical strain. I’m a gym junkie so when I arrive somewhere new I always ask locals about a great local gym or a good running track.

I knew a while ago that I would be going into a little period of break following the tour and I started to think about what I’d do to fill that time. Perhaps put on a recital? Travel overseas? I was speaking with a colleague about my original idea of performing a recital of Russian repertoire around Australia and they asked if I’d considered Babi Yar, a work for male chorus, double orchestra and bass soloist. As it happened, I hadn’t heard of it so I went and found a recording and from that very first listen I was hooked. It completely captivated me and I became obsessed with putting it on. I had worked with the Zelman Symphony in 2013 on Mahler 8 - a work similarly scored for double orchestra and chorus - and when I approached them about this work, they agreed wholeheartedly. Realising that last September was the 75th anniversary of the massacres referred to in the work helped us push harder: it made us really consider how worthy this event would be to commemorate the horrors that had occurred. The current political climate where discrimination and bigotry of all kinds if rife is also enough of a reason to put in this work in the hope of reminding people that kindness and compassion are incredible important.

The music was the first thing that captivated me about this work - it’s an incredibly powerful score without knowing the context - but as I dug deeper and found out the massacres in the Ukraine I wondered how this story had flown relatively under the radar. The poet of the work was a humanitarian that realised regardless of the fact he was not Jewish, the massacres had a wide-spread affect on all of Ukraine and this inspired him to write the extraordinary piece. Shostakovich himself had also suffered from oppression throughout his life under the Stalinist regime and felt compelled to write this symphony which, 60 years later, we’re all the better for.

I do think music has the power to join heart and head. I watch the news every day and while atrocities flash up on the screen in front of me, I often think about how powerless we all are, often a world away from what is happening, and it is easy to think there is nothing you can do to aid those suffering. When you can use music as a conduit though, it opens a part of your heart where you can understand things on a much stronger human to human level. The Babi Yar massacres, while historical, is so important becuause it allows us as audience members to remember what we have lived through and wonder why we still choose to hate rather than spread kindness. I understand that the act of simply performing this work is not enough - it will not create world piece - but I think perhaps that people will listen to the music, consider the context and go home thinking about what they can do to treat each other more kindly and be understanding and compassionate. This project, which started as an opportunity to sing during a period of unemployment has now become a movement for love and respect.

Putting this work together has really been an exercise in time management for me and George Deutsch and the committee at Zelman Symphony have been invaluable, particularly while I’ve been on the road. I bought the score two years ago and in that time have started learning Russian which really has allowed me to devour the score and the language. I cannot converse in Russian fluently (yet!) but I can sing in it and recognise the letters of the alphabet. Aside from nailing the accent, honestly the hardest thing about this piece has been singing it without crying! On the tour bus while studying the score, my colleagues would often turn to me and ask if I was okay because there would be tears rolling down my cheeks. It’s such a strong work with an extraordinary message - the incredible poetry coupled with Shostakovich’s music really speaks to you. I have been a concert singer for a couple of decades now, and often works don’t move me to tears but this one does. I really hope it touches lives.

My Rehearsal Room: Samuel Dunscombe

I began playing the clarinet at about 12 years old and until I turned 20, I was playing straight up classical music. Around the time I turned 20, I saw some improvised and experimental music concerts and I had this series of epiphanies that made me rethink my relationship with the instrument and my motivations for wanting to continue playing and creating a career in the industry. One particular experience stands out specifically - I went to see a clarinet player from France named Xavier Charles do a solo improvised set at the Corner Hotel in Richmond and seeing him absolutely blew my mind. Before that performance I had no idea about the instrument’s possibilities. I went up to him after the gig and asked him to give me a lesson while he was in Melbourne. He said to come back to the pub the day after and when I turned up, we packed our instruments, walked around the corner to the park and spent the afternoon playing clarinet together. That was the beginning, I think.

Moving from a purely classical background into a slightly more experimental world was a little bit scary. I was studying at the VCA and playing with orchestras at the time and when I told people about my interest in improvisation and new sound worlds some people were a bit suspicious of me and thought that it wasn’t a serious way of making music. People who knew me as a classical clarinetist thought I was wasting my time and possibly ruining my chances of becoming a “serious” instrumentalist. There was a really broad spectrum of responses and though people were quite discouraging, I had a group of close friends thinking the same things about music making and we all helped each other out. I think things have changed a little bit now, 10 years down the track.

Any kind of playing you do and any work you do affects the other areas of your musical interest: in that sense those people are right, but I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing. Many instrumentalists get hung up on perfecting and refining a really small amount of repertoire and the scope for personal expression is so narrow - moving outside of that can be hugely daunting. It’s hard to manage so much freedom when you’re used to so little; suddenly the discussion moves from correcting incorrect notes and technical errors to much broader thoughts on what your music making could mean. Influence comes in one of two ways - with complete rebellion or with inspiration. I think in my early 20s I was feeling pretty disillusioned with the classical world and tried purposefully to create provocations to that world. Now I’ve mellowed a little in my approach to different kinds of music and I’m much happier to blend and work with all influences.

I’m currently doing a doctorate at the University of San Diego and my work for the Bendigo Festival of Exploratory Music explores the idea of working with a really large amount of clarinet players, creating masses of sound that are constantly in motion - both unstable and harmonically rich. The closest I’ve been to hearing what it will sound like is recording everything myself and listening back! I used a process of multi tracking while I was composing, though of course I’m not sure exactly what it will sound like today. It’s huge and exciting and basically the focus right now is on getting in there and making it happen. We’ll have a really broad spectrum of players from different skill levels and the complexity and interest of the work will come out of the interactions between each players. My hope for the piece is that it will introduce a whole bunch of new people into the world of exploratory music in an active way, which I think is a real positive of BIFEM overall: it’s about engagement and community, not just expecting people to come and sit in a dark audience. One of the great advantages of projects like this is the ability to break down barriers. It’s very easy to respond to this new world of sounds with “I don’t understand” or “I don’t know how to listen” and people get psyched out really easily thinking it’s all about prior knowledge and academia. But the real point of exploratory music is that it doesn’t require any of that - you just have to show up and listen.

My Rehearsal Room: Matthias Schack-Arnott

I’m a performer in the upcoming Speak Percussion work, Assembly Operation and have been working with composer and director Eugene Ughetti during the creative development process. This is really Eugene’s baby and he has been chipping away at it for several years. In that time, it has been realised in several different formats and this most recent manifestation of the work has come together as a collaborative project with dramaturge Clare Britton, video artist Cyrus Tang and ceramicist Jia Jia Chen. The process has centred around shaping this sonic and theatrical space around core concepts of modernity, tradition, growth, value, packaging and consumerism. It has been really exciting to see Eugene pull all these ideas together and then navigate through the complex world he has created. Being part of the creative development has been fascinating, particularly spending time creating such a unique sound world that the ceramic instruments have created – it’s an incredibly tactile and resonant material and having the opportunity to be part of an exchange with the artist as we have had with Jia Jia has been special. It’s not often that you get to work alongside the person who is making you an instrument, so this process of refining and shaping the sounds has been interesting.

The concept of creative development really stems from the world of dance and performance art and is all about trying out ideas and forming a work through the act of making and doing, rather than an internal compositional process that gets refined and “completed” before going to the performers. Eugene and I both use a combination of the two in our composition process: the conventional internal stewing comes first, followed by a creative development period in the space with the performers and lights and instruments. This open creative phase is really important as it’s where everything gets tested – some things work and some things fall over, which you wouldn’t know if you didn’t try in this setting. The culture at Speak Percussion is very non-hierarchical and we all chip in during discussions. Being in the physical space makes a big difference to the process as it means you can switch from speaking about a musical idea to discussing the theatrical context of a movement to considering how an audience member might experience the performance. Nothing is off the table which allows you the brain space to solve problems that might arise in a creative way.

Being part of creative development processes like this one has really helped shape my own skills in creating new work. Being around composers working on projects and new sound worlds has given me a sense of what it takes to transform an idea into a fully realised project and how that development differs for every creative person. Through working with a diverse array of creative people, I’ve learnt that there is no wrong way to create music: everyone really does have a completely unique process. If you work with integrity you can achieve anything - that learning has been formative. I was quite young when I started working in these environments and I believe exposure to these creative spaces and opportunities can alleviate some anxiety around how you engage with music. For a variety of reasons, we all grow up thinking there’s a certain “right” way to make and think about creativity and while this is initially helpful as it allows you to develop a strong technical framework, it was certainly liberating for me to enter this space where I can shape my own musical ideas. That’s what we’re trying to do through our education program at Speak: inviting high school students to come and look at things from a different perspective while they’re still in a system that provides the bread and butter learning but doesn’t necessarily allow time for pure creation. It’s pretty cool working with 14 and 15-year-olds who are just getting into Stockhausen and watching them figure out that they can make music like that too and there are leading artists who are not that different to them in how they think about and approach music-making.

Having room to realise my own musical world has been a huge part of my development as a composer and I’ve found that working with artists from different disciplines is a necessary path to realising my percussive ideas. I don’t necessarily set out to collaborate with different kinds of artists initially, but I often realise that the musical ideas I am working on require engineers or architects or technicians to make them possible! I end up collaborating with a team of amazingly talented people as a result. With Assembly Operation, part of the impetus for Eugene was creating a theatrical space for the work to inhabit, so it was natural for him to bring in a dramaturge, a ceramicist and a visual artist to help create this world and pick at the set of conceptual ideas from different angles. As a result of those collaborations, it’s much more of a performance work with those different elements coming together like in theatre for a more heightened audience experience.

The intention with this work is to create a space that has a complexity of experience and ideas that will create a fertile ground for the audience to inhabit. The three percussive artists engaging with different found, constructed and traditional instruments have symbolic and theatrical meaning in this context and everything we do syncs up with and speaks to a bespoke video work that shows the objects that we are working with disintegrating and crumbling. It is a very immersive experience that has layers the audience can move through and contemplate.

My Rehearsal Room: Carmen Robertson

My name is Carmen Robertson and I was born with Bilateral Sensorineural Hearing Loss. At the age of 5, I went to a local primary school with no understanding of hearing loss and for that whole first year I was excluded from classroom activity’s because “it was too hard to teach a deaf child”. At the age of 6, I attended a different school with a deaf facility in Shepparton and the staff dedicated time each day to teach me Auslan. By the end of the first year, I was communicating with my deaf friends and was speaking simple sentences.

I was raised in a hearing household and music was being played everywhere around the house. I can vividly remember the first time I understood what music was and that was when I fell in love with it: I was roughly 8 or so, and it was a Saturday morning and my siblings were watching video hits on the television. A song came on, Brittney Spears’ “Hit Me Baby One More Time” and I was mesmerised with the way she was making sounds with her mouth. I continued to watch music video after music video, watching people making music with their hands and I became obsessed. After that day, I begged and nagged my mother to let me learn guitar until she relented and I picked up the instrument.

During my primary years, I went through various instruments as well as being involved with the signing choir at school, but it wasn’t until I started high school that I found the instrument I really wanted to learn. We were told to write down three instruments that we were interested in and for some reason I wrote trumpet. I'm not entirely sure why, I just had a feeling that it was the instrument for me. Later, I asked my high school music teacher if he had freaked out when he found out he had a deaf student, but he said he hadn't, as the staff in the deaf facility had approached him and explained that there was a deaf student who wanted to learn music and gave suggestions as to what he could do to help. Since then, he has had two other deaf music students!

I was never excluded from anything in high school because of my hearing loss, and consequently I got to take advantage of so many musical opportunities; I was competing in solo competitions all around the state, I went to band camps, and performed regularly with the school bands and local orchestras. One of my biggest achievements was being part of the State Schools Spectacular in 2010 and 2011. I had to audition and got in, and I traveled to Melbourne for rehearsals and performed in front of thousands of people. It was honestly the most amazing experience I’ve ever had. When high school finished, I auditioned and was accepted at the Box Hill Institute. In my first few weeks, I requested interpreters in each class, then discovered that I didn’t need them as I could understand the lecturers. The only thing I requested was a note taker. One of my teachers admitted that she had panicked when she heard a deaf student was enrolling in music. She explained that she wasn't sure how she was going to teach, and was worried about having a deaf student, but when she met me she was relieved. In my first trumpet lesson, my teacher and I talked at length about my deafness and what to do, what not to do, etc.

I, of course, did encounter some harsh people who truly believed that music was not for the deaf and there were occasionally teachers who refused my entry into music lessons (I still went anyway). There have also been a few deaf people who have given me disapproving looks and have a bad attitude towards music, but nothing has stopped me from doing what I love. Now I’m completing the final year of my Masters of Music, I teach primary school kids piano and trumpet, and also play with Big Band Frequency and Grainger Wind Symphony.

To my ears, instruments that have a higher pitch are quiet in comparison to lower brass instruments and bass instruments, for example bass clarinet or bassoon. When listening to musical lyrics, I very rarely hear the clarity of the actual words, but the melody of the songs will be clear. In chordal structures, it is more difficult for me to pick out 7th, 9th and 13th chord extension notes compared to hearing chordal triads. My hearing aids do influence the sound of the trumpet and they can influence the dynamic of each note. For example, my hearing aid setting can make it sound like I am not using any dynamics at all, when in actual fact I am using crescendos and decrescendos. When I take them out, I can tell how loud or soft I'm playing. As a trumpeter, I’m always placed near the back of the band. This is possibly not the most ideal place, but I’ve learnt to talk to the people next to me, make sure they understand that I have a hearing loss and explain to them “Hey, I might sometimes miss what the conductor is saying, can I ask you if I missed what they said?” Also, I always make sure the conductor knows I have a hearing loss so they can adjust accordingly. It doesn't take much to ensure you're speaking clearly and facing the orchestra!

In terms of being deaf and a musician, one of my biggest challenges is the aural side of music. Especially listening to chords with extensions and judging the frequency changes in the white noise. I have spent hours and hours at the piano playing chords with different extensions and with time and practice I have become a little better at picking them out. I haven't, however, ever faced any challenges in terms of learning the trumpet (except for the struggles everyone faces: practice motivation included!)

Right now, I’m doing a Masters research thesis based on the question ‘can deaf musicians play music just as well as hearing people do?’. The research that I've done so far has already confirmed my suspicions: we can and we do! I don’t need hearing to know how to read music and I don’t need hearing to play the trumpet. Playing the trumpet needs your hands, your lips and air. If you love music, you should not see hearing loss as a barrier. If you’re worried about the aural side of music study, there’s always ways around it. The teachers can adjust the aural tests, whether that means allowing you to listen a few extra times to the audio, offering you headphones or simply changing the test to something more theory-based. In saying that, it's important to speak up! Teachers can't change their lesson plan if they don't know what you're dealing with. Music is about feeling, and everyone feels the same thing, hearing or no hearing. A wise teacher once told me that if you love doing something you should be able to make it your career. Nothing else matters.

My Rehearsal Room: Cameron Lam

I’ve always been obsessed with mythology and the way we tell ourselves the same stories over and again in different ways. I suppose it is the way that myths encourage retelling and augmenting until they have their own lives that fascinates me, though in saying that, storytelling in all forms has always been an interest. Yggdrasil - as a setting and a character - is a completely intriguing myth, not least because of its unusual focus on creation and recreation. Our knowledge of Norse myth is rather sketchy, as we don’t have many first-hand accounts, which has shifted the way we read and understand them. What we do know, however, is that a lot of Norse mythology is known to be about destruction and the end of times, and the absence of that devastation is something that attracted me to Yggdrasil, The World Tree.

This piece is definitely the most programmatic work I’ve ever written because I’m trying to capture the lifespan of Yggdrasil, which is basically a representation of the entire universe! Everything falls easily within the boundaries of this story, beginning with creation and ending in the rebirth after destruction. I love that this character is born in the void between worlds of fire and ice, between chaos and stasis. It lends itself to so many tie-ins with the universe and the earth. Throughout the piece there are snapshots of birth, of side characters and different settings, and, perhaps most importantly, of what happens after the universe is destroyed. Out of the ashes comes humanity: a new world and a reborn Yggdrasil. I don’t think it is a coincidence that this piece and the concerto I wrote most recently, Electric Phoenix, are obsessed with the idea of rebirth. The concept is really interesting and also problematic, and composition is a very selfish form of therapy, I suppose! I like using my writing to explore large, daunting prospects and questions: how do you stare down death and cataclysm, (or a bleak looking present) and survive? Long form works really require a story and a narrative, and musings on life often come to form a part of this.

When I’m teaching, I often tell my students that writing short form works is kind of like learning to build a dog house. They’re self-contained and there are a finite number of ways to put the base together. When you want to build a big house, a real house that you can actually live in, you can’t just build a bigger version of the dog house, and you also can’t just join a bunch of dog houses together. It’s a completely different foundation. When I’m writing a short work, I think about how that in 3-5 minutes, I have time to explore one musical idea. It is an opportunity to work through something technical, a pattern perhaps or a theory that I’d like to try – basically, it gives enough space to explore a singular concept. For this reason, when I’m working on a smaller work, I feel like I can start from a single motive or idea and work organically. If I try this in what will be a long-form piece, the idea tends to peter out or begin to ramble, so I like to begin with structure.

The first notes of Yggdrasil were written at the Melbourne airport when I missed my flight and suddenly had four hours to kill with nothing but coffee, a sandwich and a bunch of manuscript paper. I had the idea to write this huge mythological concept and so I just started plugging away, thinking about how to transcribe all the ideas I wanted it to get across – I mean, where do you start on writing about fire, ice and a tree that happens to represent the universe? Those four hours turned out to be the most productive hours of last year!

I used to write every day and I still really love the idea of that as a method, but realistically, I have a full-time day job and a million other things that I am responsible for, so it’s not quite possible any more. I think I am lucky in the sense that I need to write – if I go a couple of days away from the manuscript it’s okay, but if it goes a week I become a grumpy human and the act of writing actually improves my outlook. I think about composition every day and I think that has become a big part of my creative process – I plan pieces and begin to sketch ideas while I’m sitting on the bus. There are pieces I’ve written five or six years after I first thought of the idea and I think, because of that time I spend stewing over the musical possibilities, pieces are often structured in my head almost completely before I even get a pencil in my hand, so they don’t take that long to get out! It’s tricky in a way, not being able to partake in a kind of daily practice, but lots of studies on athletes show them running their race better if they’ve gone over it in their mind before physically getting onto the track, so I think my current system is okay! I feel like if I get a lay of the land in my head before I sit down to write I have a much stronger idea of how it’s going to happen.

I do think I’m a better composer for all the things I do that aren’t composition. I’ve been running Kammerklang for years and that business has itself gone through a bunch of guises – a production company, a new music ensemble, a record label… I’ve run rehearsals and gigs and there’s something wonderful about having those experiences and getting to know how the other side of the performance coin works. It gives you a great feeling as a composer of the messy reality on the other side of the beautiful abstract that we generally work in. I think I’m much more willing to engage with and trust my performers because of these experiences – now I leave spaces open in my music and I’ll write fewer markings if I know someone particularly well. Being able to let the performer express the music in their own individual way is extremely powerful.

This particular process has been really exciting: the instrument, which is not used that often, sits at six feet tall and sounds two octaves below the Bb clarinet. I was a bass clarinettist in high school and when eBay was in its infancy I bought myself a contra for $3,000 which felt like all the money in the world back then! It is a beautiful instrument though, and I have spent a lot of time playing it (albeit rather badly). The contrabass is a really expressive instrument that has a surprisingly nimble range: it speaks really quickly and moves well.

The piece that I’m working on for Sue Newsome and the Sydney Conservatorium Wind Symphony (under the baton of John Lynch), stems from two earlier commissions, also based on trees: first, Jacaranda, and second, Eucalyptus. When I was considering how to write a piece that sounded representative of the biggest mythological tree in the world, I knew I had to write for a bigger instrument. Both the contrabass clarinet and Yggdrasil have a gravity to their characters, so the fit has worked well. I love that the contra has such a large and textured range – there are heavy low rumblings at the bottom, then as you climb up there are hints of saxophone and oboe. It’s a timeless sound, as Yggdrasil is a timeless myth.

I think it’s crucial that young composers know that it’s up to each of them to define what their career will look like. It’s so easy to look at what your lecturers have done, which of course is important and valuable, but you have to look at what you value to really figure out what your career will look like. It’s also important to give yourself growing space. A long-time ago, I stopped referring to pieces I was taking to performers as “finished”. Now, until my piece is performed, I call it a draft. That means that the composition process doesn’t stop with the double barline, and it makes going into those first rehearsals a lot less confronting. It will always be scary – taking your works to players for the first time – but knowing that you have the space to change the notes on the page is quite freeing. There’s no right way of doing things, and you should always be learning. Honestly, the big failures are the best! My favourite bit of advice is that there’s nothing wrong with making mistakes as long as you try not to make the same one twice.

Our Rehearsal Room: Taimana Ensemble

When we finished our studies in London, we wanted to continue playing at a really high standard without falling into the path that orchestral instrumentalists often take following graduation – fellowships, trials, auditions. We’d all had prior experience in creating chamber music and had played in this ensemble (flute, cello, piano) before and thought that the ensemble could be a great opportunity to build on that. Honestly, we didn’t have to think too hard about starting the trio, we just jumped in! We’ve since found a lot of great music so we’re committed to making it work. When we first decided to go ahead with the trio we searched all the dark corners of the internet for recordings and repertoire – and we found a lot of terrible recordings! We then made a list of pieces including previous standards we’d performed before, then we searched fairly hard for other repertoire. Most of the music we found was written by little known composers but it turned out that there was a lot of interesting music for us to explore. So far, we’ve had a lot of positive feedback from audience members commenting on the pieces and composers that they’ve heard for the first time at a Taimana performance. I think the biggest struggle we have then, is to convince people to come along in the first place, because we know that once they hear it, they’ll like it!

Basically, we do our best to program works from composers that people will be familiar with alongside some more obscure works that we’d like to introduce them to, and try and pull audiences that way. We also do a lot of duo works – flute and cello sonatas in particular. If there’s a Brahms Sonata on the menu, that often encourages people to come along!

The hardest thing about setting up an ensemble is not the playing – it’s all those extra things that they don’t teach you at university: all the business skills. It’s been a steep learning curve and has involved lots of time on government websites looking for business information. In hindsight, the time we’ve spent doing all of our own design and marketing work has given us a leg up in the world of modern music careers so we do have the skills we need to do to achieve our goals. You wouldn’t necessarily develop those skills if you were going along a traditional career path, because you wouldn’t need them in many cases. We think that branching out and learning to do things for yourself affords you a bigger learning opportunity.

These days, there are many young ensembles, and it’s really heartening to see so many people taking initiative and setting up their own projects. Ensemble work, though, is difficult to make a living from and you need something else going on to pay the bills – maybe that’s where the idea of a portfolio career comes in. People supplement that interest and passion for ensemble work with other activities, either in or out of the music industry.

All of us teach fairly extensively and we all do freelance work. We’re all generally quite centred around music on a day to day basis, and as such, we’re all serious about how we approach the ensemble. We’ve had the experience in the past of collaborating with friends and not treating it in a professional way, which often makes you lose the focus and intensity that treating it like a job affords you. We work on a per concert basis, and all the necessary marketing and administration happens in the lead up to that performance. I guess what it means is that we’re very focussed, because we have to be! Time is a luxury that we don’t have access to and when it comes to performance time, we have a job to do and we want to put on the best concert that we can while presenting a very professional image.

Because time is limited, we all turn up to the first rehearsal with the parts very much prepared – we’ve individually taken the time to understand the stylistic elements of each piece and put together some ideas as well. We’re very conscious of making the most of our short lead time. Our priority, particularly at the beginning of the preparation process, is slow work – it helps us find out where things are at and gives us a sense of the structure. We revert back to slow work when things aren’t quite clicking as well. If we’re practicing a particularly complex passage, there’s often one thing that’s anchoring that section, so we try and identify that aspect and use it to help us stay together. Also, not enough can be said for just playing through a passage a few more times! When you’re playing in any kind of ensemble, your brain is going at a million miles an hour, and often just playing a passage the second or third time might fix thing that initially went wrong. We didn’t realise that until after our studies – rather than “fixing things’ immediately, we take some time and try again. With practice, we’re learning what to grab hold of.

The biggest thing we’ve learnt is the importance of listening carefully. And if we could start again? We’d remember to start the work sooner! Every new performance we work on, we’re slightly more organised. This time around we have all of our design work done and ready to go, which frees up time to actually concentrate on the playing. If you’re prepared and have done as much of the menial administrative tasks as possible, you can go away and focus on the most important bit – the music.

My Rehearsal Room: Jai Cameron
I believe it was Michael Hurst who quoted, “I think comedy is the hardest actual form of writing there is.” This is probably a debatable way of beginning my analysis on how I wrote my comedy, Would You Like Fries With That? But for us upcoming comedians, one would tend to agree with it.

For me, I’ve always had a gimmick for comedy. Combining the fact I come from a family of incredibly funny story tellers with my training in musical theatre and I would say writing is probably the most enjoyable stage for me. Enjoyable being the key word in that sentence!

Would You Like Fries With That? Began with a different title and a sketchy scaffold of ideas printed on paper. As a writer I am influenced by real life situations and experiences, which send my imagination into overload when a simple thought expands into a fully-fledged idea. Perhaps this could explain why I don’t sleep well at night?

I worked at a well-known fast food franchisee (that shall not be named) for 16 months and to be frank, it was the worst 16 months of my life. Not only after every shift did I smell of rotten oil and off ice cream but I also had to deal with some of the rudest people I have ever encountered (sometimes known as "the human race who consume fast food")

Right before I quit, I thought to myself "what have I actually gained from working in fast food that will help me as a performer?" I pondered this question for days, if not weeks! At this stage, I had not gained acceptance into any arts institutes for music theatre across the country. And I love a great challenge that throws me right into the deep end and allows me to improve as a person and a performer.

Towards my last shift ever I recall telling a colleague that our workplace was so theatrical that someone needed to write a comedy show about it, as it would almost certainly be a sell-out. This conversation was the spark I needed for my brain to go a million miles an hour. I sprinted to the crew room and typed out a title with a 2 sentence synopsis and saved the note as "Draft #1". I didn’t touch "Draft #1" for another month.

Previously, I had worked with youth arts organisation Platform Youth Theatre on a variety of short scenes and plays, but felt I had never pursed writing mainly due to the time constraints of VCE homework. Not to mention I studied History Revolutions, English and Literature, subjects that required a lot of reading and essay writing!

So I knew if I was seriously going to pursue writing I needed to write this show. I opened up my notes stared blankly for several hours questioning exactly where to start. During my writing experiences in high school I was given the advice to just write.

So I began writing down dot points of topics I wanted to discuss in my show and various stories I could recall from the 16 months of working in fast food. I ended up with 5 pages of dot points and knew I was into stage 1 of my show. I discussed my show at length with close colleagues about what should be included in this open forum about the good, bad and ugly of working in fast food.

Suddenly, the dot points became sentences and the sentences became paragraphs. If I had writer’s block sometimes I would only write 5 words. I’m not the world’s worst procrastinator, unless there is no due date. I made a promise to myself when I was 75% of the way through that I’d submit the show to The Butterfly Club to potentially produce the show.

I didn’t really have a strong structure I only had dot points, so throughout the process I was consistently reflecting on how I was going to bundle my ideas into a full-fledged show. However, I tried to focus on finishing the writing first as I had faith I could string it together at the end.

Around the 7,000 word mark aka the 75% stage I submitted my show. I heard nothing for two weeks which I was okay with considering I had not actually finished it! Then suddenly out of the blue I got a call from the Artistic Director of The Butterfly Club inviting me to put it on stage in August. And so began the initial stages of Draft 2.

Eventaully, I got to Draft 3, which involved the overall culling and stringing my ideas into a developed and connected piece. Slabs of dialogue were cut, rewritten and the order drastically changed. As a writer, especially of comedy, you need to be your harshest critic. If you don’t have faith in finding your work funny or that the punchline won’t land, it is most likely your work won’t translate to your audience.

The issue with writing comedy is how do you exactly know if the punchline will land? Or whether the audience will laugh at all? In stand-up comedy, they either laugh or they don’t. This question is the one that probably keeps me the most sleep deprived.

I have recently “finished” draft 4 that already has red pen on every page. As a writer I don’t think we are ever “finished”, even after the audience provide their verdict. Anyway, I must be proud of the work I’ve done, put the pen down and start learning an hour’s worth of content, considering the show is in just over a month… yikes!

Our Rehearsal Room: Mandy Farmer

We are now midway through the stage rehearsals for The Merry Widow at His Majesty’s Theatre - last night we had our final two piano dress rehearsals and next week we rehearse with the orchestra, culminating in the general rehearsal on Thursday and the opening night on Saturday. The Merry Widow cast is made up of 14 principals, 12 female chorus members, 16 male chorus members and 12 dancers, and had been in the works for almost a year! Last August, I saw the design presentation in Sydney and after seeing how big the sets were, I attempted to design a technical schedule which would accommodate these technical requirements and our backstage budget!

The dancers rehearsed for two weeks prior to principal rehearsals as did the chorus, who learnt their music under the tutelage of our Head of Music, Thomas Johnson. As this is a new production, the principals and chorus were measured last November and fitted in May for their costumes. Part of my job is to organise the fitting times and liaise with Opera Australia wardrobe staff who are making the costumes in their Sydney workshop. This is an Opera Conference production which means that it is owned by the four member opera companies (West Australian Opera, Opera Australia, Opera Queensland and State Opera of South Australia).

The principals had their first music call together in Perth on Monday June 19th and production rehearsals began the following day. In late April, I put together a rehearsal schedule in consultation with the director Graeme Murphy and assistant director Janet Vernon. This gives everyone a structure for the rehearsal period but changes to the schedule occur regularly! Once rehearsals begin, Stage Management look after the rehearsals and any rehearsal changes. The dancers have been rehearsing concurrently in the 2nd Floor Studio with Shane Placentino and join the production rehearsals in the 3rd floor studio when they are needed - there is always something happening!

The set was built in the Opera Australia workshop and was freighted across the Nullabor in 7 forty-foot containers. Opera Australia’s Head Mechanist has been in Perth for two weeks overseeing the build and the massive scene changes. Dave Parsons, Opera Australia’s Head Electrician has been supervising the lighting build, as well. We spent a week building the set in situ and a further four days rigging, focussing and plotting the lights in the theatre. Cast aren’t allowed on stage until the set is in place.

We have had two rehearsals on stage (the ‘piano techs’) and four piano dress rehearsals. The piano techs allow the cast to get used to the set under lights but without costume, make up, and wigs. That extra layer is added at the piano dress rehearsals. The Merry Widow has three acts and to allow for each act to be rehearsed as well as a full opera run, I scheduled four piano dress rehearsals. An additional layer will be added next week when the orchestral rehearsals commence. Conductor Vanessa Scammel will rehearse the orchestra on Monday at Perth Concert Hall (this call is known as the ‘orchestra reading’). While the orchestra is rehearsing,my team will be on stage with scenic artists touching up details on the set. There are 12 mechanists who move and build the sets: 7 lighting technicians (Head LX, Board Operator, floor LX and four follow spot operators), one Sound operator, three Stage Management, three wigs staff, one makeup artist and 8 wardrobe staff (dressers and maintenance).

My job as Production Manager is to oversee the entire process and to ensure that we are ready for the performances. The job is primarily one of logistics, scheduling and liaising with all the departments, including the orchestra and the theatre, as well as managing all stage management, wardrobe, backstage and technical tasks, all the while keeping within the production budget. It can be stressful - during production week, it involves very long hours - but it is mostly a lot of fun! I love opera so to spend my working life – over 30 years now - in the throes of it is a dream come true.

Project Check-In: Getting Performance Ready

26/6/2017

So it's been a few weeks and you've finished the writing process! What comes next?

The next bit is actually quite exciting! I finished the piece on June 15, and at the moment, Peter Luff, Ysolt Clark (aka Horn Hounds) and a quartet of their students are in Natal, Brazil where they will play the world premiere of this work at the 49th International Horn Symposium tonight! Now, this is ultimately the world’s most important stage for horn players. Hundreds of horn professionals and students from all over the world gather at the Symposium each year for a week of masterclasses, workshops, collaborations and amazing concerts. I hope my performers are not too nervous over there, but it is such a huge event for them, especially for the students! I know all six of them are going to do great; they are absolutely world class, and they inspire me to write the best music I am capable of creating.

This piece is also scheduled for its Australian premiere in November 2017 at the Queensland Conservatorium, and US premiere in early 2018. I have already been contacted by several fantastic horn players, both from Australia and internationally, with requests to purchase the score for it as soon as it is available, and that’s even before the world premiere. So I couldn’t be happier with the outcome. I am very grateful to the Australia Council for the Arts for their support of this project!

Can you tell us about some of the challenges of writing a major work while juggling other compositional projects? How do you manage your time?

For me, the only principle that makes it all hold together is prioritising. A colleague of mine said that his was ignoring. These seem to be the two sides of the same medal. I think it’s a “glass half-full – glass half-empty” sort of thing… But, to be serious, at the start of the year, I take the time to map out my schedule and see how much time I have for each project. Then I create a commission calendar, so that I know when I have to start and finish each work. Otherwise, NOTHING will get accomplished. So far, surprisingly, I am right on track; though this is due to the fact that 1). I have an incredibly supportive husband; 2). I haven’t had a single day off of composing this year, including Sundays and public holidays… For me, it’s all worth it, though. I’m absolutely loving my projects this year, and 2018 is already starting to fill up with some inspiring and powerful collaborations, as well.

What has it been like working with the young horn players? Can you tell us about the workshop experience?

Horn can be an intimidating instrument to play, especially for young performers, especially when working on brand-new pieces. This was not the case for this project, though. The four students Peter and Ysolt selected – Sunga Lee, Jess Goodrich, Mel Simpson and Jacob Aspinall - are incredible young players, with great integrity and work ethics. They are definitely some of the very best young horn players in the country, and I am positive that all four of them have very bright musical future ahead. Before they left for Brazil, we had an incredibly fun week of rehearsals, which is probably the most favourite part of my job – seeing the works come together and come alive. The piece came out exactly as I planned it: two advanced solo parts, often fighting with each other, and a quartet supporting the story and taking the lead here and there. And it is definitely about a war, and definitely Ukraine-inspired – one can clearly hear it from the music. Each of the six musicians involved played my music in the past, so they are used to the main principles of my compositional style. I think this is what sped up the process of learning the piece for them tremendously. Peter and Ysolt embraced the challenges of their parts immediately and left me speechless from the first rehearsal. The students were learning their fairly challenging material very quickly, listening to every bit of advice from Peter, Ysolt and myself; I could observe their progress in real time, pretty much, and they showed nothing but respect, dedication and musicianship. They very much enjoyed the piece I wrote for them, and in return made me a very happy composer. I cannot wait to hear the recording of their Brazil performance.

St Georges' Series: Nimbus Trio by Kitty Xiao

Performing my own music has always been about learning how to compose, and composing has always been about understanding performance. For me performing and composing are intrinsically interlinked.

I started composing because I was sick of playing music of white European men with huge hands in comparison to mine. I chose to focus on composing music that demonstrated my strengths as a musician, in creativity and musicality rather than let any limitations get in the way. Throughout my university years I would compose for my friends, learning about their instruments, their favourite sounds and how much my composition could evolve to fit a performer’s style. Forming composer-performer relationships were essential in my development as a musician and the opportunities I have had.

Nimbus Trio was founded in 2013 when a piece I composed for flute, violin and piano received the MSV David Henkels Composition Award. I quickly called on Jessica Laird; flautist and co-founding member for our debut at Deakin Edge and 3MBS. Since then our performances have seen us work with amazing musicians including Sarah Coghlan, Cameron Jamieson, Luke Carbon, Tom D’Ath and most recently violinist Chloe Sanger.

My role in the ensemble:

The amount of control a composer has on performance parameters through initial compositional processes became increasingly strong due to the rise of the mass concert venue in the Classical period. Performers adopted a re-creative role rather than a creative and collaborative partner with the composer.

As a small ensemble it is the interconnectedness of the latter that I want rather than a narcotic design that hampers a shared creative activity. My role is to make the performer’s feel comfortable, valuable and that they have creative control and freedom to allow their personalities to be part of their performance.

Every performance is different. Having performed the same works with different musicians, it really shows how much each individual can affect the flow and social dynamics within a group. This is a wonderful thing; just like how different friends bring out different parts of your personality, it has made my composition more about spontaneous listening and interaction rather than a predetermined object that is to be followed by a literal and strict re-production.

Really, the dots are only the beginning:

The dots are only a means for me to express thought and opinion. Of course, the score is important because it can make the biggest difference in the world. A good score for me is one that allows the performer to understand the composer’s intention clearly and effectively. The smallest mark can make the biggest difference in the world! It really are these details and sophistications that make an ordinary composer outstanding. However, the dots for me are really are a debate topic, and the musicians are there to fight for their side of the debate, perhaps not a fight... a civilised argument? Perhaps they agree. Whatever! That’s interesting!

Of course, performing my own music means I have some control, but only enough to initiate more ideas, and each musician I have played with has instigated that.

My music is very personal if you let it be. The music can only belong to me, but that is not what I want, not the point. If the musicians I play with don’t filter it through their own lense then I don’t feel like we have explored our full capacity as an ensemble.

The perfect performance:

We are individually fantastic and flawed people, musicians, and I don’t understand the concept that art or performance should be in any way perfect. Of course we should strive to work to our best ability and demonstrate professionalism, but perfection is a term that by definition is an absolute and complete state, implying that music exists for a final product. How often do living composer’s get commissioned to write a piece that never gets performed again? Amongst this is that once the final state is achieved, there is no longer a means to pursue it.

For an audience it may be their only moment, so I believe how you choose to interact with the audience, what you choose to say, provide in the program notes is vital. With all the damage that social media has done, it has also let audiences connect with musicians and music on a new and personal level. Being ‘in the moment’ when a new music idea is formed. Being ‘in the moment’ when one member of the band disagrees completely with the other. Being ‘in the moment’ when a ‘moment’ of music is created that could change everything that happened before or to follow it? What do we really want? To be in the moment?

Perhaps that’s why the virtual-concert experience and an interactive audience-focused experience of sound in the classical world has been such a success, and rewarding way for audiences to connect in the concert music experience? Really a performance is only one photograph of an immense project, experience, relationship and it should be treated like one.

The work in progress:

What is the final product when in our modern age, music is recreated, re performed, arranged, covered, improved, criticised and evolving? Perhaps there is no final product and we are living in the past if we think that classical music exists in the same context as it did hundreds of years ago. Performing the music of the ‘great’ composers is fantastic (because really, it’s just absolutely unimaginable music)! But really, if you’re performing new music of living composers, you are living in a time of the work in progress.

Different composers have different things that fascinate them. For me, it has always been about humans, the experience, the complex workings of an individual, a collective. And maybe in 10 years I will think what I said was all nonsense. But so what? I think the worst would be for me to think exactly the way I do now...

My Rehearsal Room: Kate Crombie

I’m not a quitter. I never have been. As the saying goes, try, try again. But there is a fine line between discipline and madness. As musicians, we pretty much have discipline down pat. Every day we prepare ourselves to face the same obstacles, knowing it may be weeks, months or years before we overcome specific problems. Discipline is a fantastic tool, if we use it in a healthy way. But for me, I’m nearly completed my undergraduate degree in music and I have disciplined myself into choosing a career and dream that I do not want.

There are certain things about ourselves that we want to, and potentially should, change. We are all a never-ending work of art. Yet, I truly believe that our underlying life values are too deeply ingrained within us to mess with. And for nearly three years I have caged myself in a practice room and ignored my instincts and my values as they screamed at me. Ever since I told myself that I would become an orchestral musician, my anxiety has sky rocketed and self-criticism has wormed its way into every aspect of my life.

I want to encourage you all to ask yourselves, ‘why’? Why do you do what you do? What value does it add to your life? Because if you’re like me, and you never really knew your ‘why’ in the first place, things can get pretty damn complicated. In light of the recent tragedies as a result of terrorism filtering its way around the globe, I’ve decided life is too short to force yourself to be something you’re not. And these choices and decisions can be simple. Trust your instincts, trust those niggly feelings that tell you something isn’t right, trust your heart, trust your values. Music should give you wings, not wrap you in chains. If you’re sacrificing your health and happiness, without knowing your ‘why’, it’s time to pause and re-asses.

I’m terrified, but also incredibly exhilarated, to discover who I am without a bassoon on my back. As much as it breaks my heart, striving for a career as a professional performer does not suit my personality and doesn’t line up with what I want from life. That said, if you’re healthy, happy and insanely in love with the idea of being a professional musician, go for it. In a way, life is about figuring out what you are willing to struggle through to get what you want.

One of my favourite quotes is from the Persian poet Rumi:

“I am not this hair, I am not this skin, I am the soul that lives within.”

Don’t define yourself by your instrument, your voice, or your career. ‘I am’ should be enough on its own, because the wonder of who you are goes beyond what you choose to do.

St Georges' Series: Joanna Kerr

As developing artists it is important to acknowledge the advantages and, at times, necessity of establishing self-curated performances. Through a collaborative effort, we can take the first steps towards managing our own careers successfully. There are already many wonderful collectives and music events in Melbourne, but any chance to facilitate and support the performance of original music, particularly where new artists can be given the kind of focus that is often reserved for established acts, is a welcome one.

What is the Collaboration Connection?

The focus of The Collaboration Connection is to create more opportunities for emerging and established artists to engage with each other and the community. With the support of the VCA, MCM and IgniteLab, I formed this project with the hope of providing a program that allows artists to work alongside each other, to create new audiences for their original music projects, and to develop meaningful connections that lead to a stronger capacity to network within the arts. Not only does The Collaboration Connection aim to assist new artists in gaining visibility and industry reach in the local contemporary music scene, but we also provide another way for performing arts students and graduates to continue developing their skills. We believe it is important for students to have the opportunity to do this within a supportive structure as they move toward the next phase of their journey as multifaceted artists.

Making it Happen

It can be tempting to keep your dreams, ambitions, and ideas to yourself, to avoid confronting the possibility of not achieving your goals. But the fear of failure is only made more paralyzing when you delay the attempt to succeed. If you can release yourself from the desire to control what is uncontrollable, and instead find empowerment in the choices you can make toward your goals, every decision is a step forward, to free yourself from the trappings of thought with the force of action.

I set myself a goal to be more active in pursuing opportunities instead of waiting for them to happen for me, which got me thinking about what opportunities I wanted to create for myself and for others. This led me to assuming the role of curator for the first time. Since I was already taking on a new challenge, I decided that I wanted to expand it into an opportunity to learn how to put together a successful grant application and pitch a project. I was very privileged to receive a grant and invaluable mentorship as a result.

Toward the end of last year I presented the first Collaboration Connection performance at Lionel’s Lounge in Southbank, which featured an amazing line up of local vocalist-composers, including current VCA students and alumni. Through this experience, I have learned that I can trust in my ability to present myself well, and work under pressure. I learned that when I am confident and truly passionate about something, that this translates to a successful presentation. Most of all, I really enjoyed planning and booking the artist line-up, and seeing what I had envisioned for the night come to fruition. It really started to feel worth the effort when I received positive feedback from those involved, with interest starting to build from students, alumni, and members of the greater community wishing to be involved.

From putting this project together, I learned about what is most important when working within a strict time frame. Our lead-time was very short for this project launch, and it is amazing to realise what can be done when you have a strong idea, focus, and support. Communicating with people I haven’t met before over email was challenging and rewarding as I had some really positive responses. I was also able to prepare a thorough budget proposal, which was a new skill for me. The benefits gained from going through the pitch process for the grant, and launching the project, far outweigh the fear of trying something new and failing.

To Be Continued

There is still so much that I am learning as I plan for the future of The Collaboration Connection and my personal music career. Dealing with confronting tasks like self-promotion, scheduling, managing an online presence and building a local and online community interest, and keeping momentum by curating more performance opportunities, initiating group development sessions and creating collaborative community events. Rather than working alone with our limited capacity, we can collaborate, supporting each other as a creative and powerful collective.

We enjoy collaborating with other community initiatives and local performance venues, so we are delighted to be a part of the 2017 Friends of Music concert series at St. George’s, where two phenomenal vocalists, STAV and Erica Bramham, will join me as we present to you an afternoon of original music.

Project Check-In: The First Steps with Catherine Likhuta

25/5/2017

So you're working on a new commission! What's it all about?

I’m currently writing a chamber concerto for six French horns entitled “Bad Neighbours.” I was born and raised in Ukraine, so you can guess which bad neighbours I have in mind… Originally it was supposed to be a piece for two horns and piano, commissioned by Horn Hounds (Peter Luff and Ysolt Clark, Qld Conservatorium). Peter asked me to write this piece back in mid-2014, just as we finished a very successful horn project together. Incidentally, that was soon after Russia invaded Ukraine, and of course, I was shaken up by the events in my homeland, where all of my family still lived. Those events inspired the title and the idea for the piece. Due to my very busy composing/performing schedule at that time, the project was postponed until now. To be honest, I didn’t expect for the title to still be relevant three years later… But enough politics, let’s get to the core of the project.

“Bad Neighbours” is a 12-minute concerto for two professional horn soloists and an advanced student horn quartet. The piece will be premiered by Peter, Ysolt and four of their most advanced students at the 49th International Horn Symposium in Natal, Brazil at the end of next month. This is a very high-profile performance opportunity and arguably the best place for one’s horn work to be premiered, as the audience will be comprised of some of the leading horn players from all over the globe. So yeah, no pressure for me… The project is supported by a grant from the Australia Council for the Arts, for which I am very grateful. This is my second horn project they are supporting.

As the piece is inspired by a war and invasion, it is to have many musical dialogues and arguments, as well as an overall sense of tension, determination, sadness and mourning. But above all – fighting for freedom. I am embracing my ethnic heritage in this work, consciously incorporating Ukrainian folk modes and angular rhythms from folk dances. Mixing it with the characteristic elements of my style, such as jazz influences, metre changes and virtuosity, creates a very interesting fusion, in my opinion.

It’s a very exciting project for everyone involved. Many of Peter and Ysolt’s horn students have played my music in wind symphony concerts and horn ensemble workshops, and six of them were involved in the world premiere of my oratorio. They are excellent young horn players, and it is my pleasure to be writing for them. They seem very excited about premiering this work, which inspires and motivates me greatly in return. Performers are always my biggest inspiration and creativity boost.

Where in the writing process are you right now?

I am three minutes in, i.e., I have the score for the opening three minutes completely ready. I just sent it to the performers so that they could start learning (as time is a factor). I always write the final version of every bar before moving on. I hate to come back and revise, so I work on the material until it’s 100% to my liking. It’s not a very common approach to composing, but it works very well for me.

I have mapped out the plan for the rest of the piece, and made lots of little sketches and improvisations which can be found everywhere on my desk, my phone and my computer.

Like many other artists, I guess, when I’m composing something I’m very excited about (which is the case at least 98% of the time), the creative process completely floods my life. I need to get up in the middle of the night to write down some ideas, I sing through the material unwillingly on my evening walks, and the main ideas for the structure often come to me when I’m on a bike ride (not to mention grocery shopping, shower, cooking, etc.). So pretty much everywhere except for when I’m actually sitting down at my desk and deciding: “Okay, let’s do this! It’s time to write some music!” That doesn’t work very well. I instead have to run to my desk and write down the ideas that had come to me when I was doing other things. Kind of fascinating to see how the mind works sometimes…

I have to work on this piece pretty much 24/7 at this point, since the date of the world premiere is approaching very quickly. At the same time, I absolutely love writing for horn! It might just be my favourite instrument to write for. Composers are sometimes intimidated by it, as it has the reputation of being a very difficult instrument to play. But horn can actually do much more than one might think, as long as you really get to know it well. I’ve been very fortunate to have worked with some of the world’s best horn players (Peter and Ysolt, QSO Horns, Adam Unsworth, and several others), and I’ve learnt so much about the instrument from my collaborations with these incredible musicians. They can play anything that is possible on their instrument, and I embrace that when writing for them. As a result, my horn pieces are highly virtuosic and are aimed mostly at professional players, but that is the case with almost all of my music.

How are you balancing all the things you've got going on right now - study/work/writing/being a mum?

Hmm… Not sure! For me, the key to not failing everything and losing your mind is prioritising. At the moment, I made this project my number one priority, and I am trying not to think about anything else. Composing is my main work, but I also do some teaching, and I love teaching composition. This year, I keep my teaching load very low -- one day per week this semester and no teaching at all next semester -- as I have 4 very important commissions to work on. If one day I get a job in academia, which I very much would like to happen, I will redistribute the roles of teaching and composing. I think nothing is more important for young composers than a dedicated teacher, and I will always make sure to be that teacher for my students.

I have put my PhD on hold for the next several months. I am nearly finished with it, but I need to dedicate the proper amount of time and brain energy to do it properly and to be fully satisfied with the outcome. I decided to do a PhD after 8 years of free-lance composing. In a way, this makes it easier because I feel very confident about what I am doing. But at the same time, it is much harder to make time for PhD-related research, as my composing schedule is (luckily!) pretty busy. And then I also perform, occasionally record CDs and do some touring…

And yes, being a parent is almost a full-time job in itself! I’m trying to spend as much time with my little girl, Skylie (3.5 y.o. now), as I can. She grows up very quickly, and it is important not to miss out on all the fun and beauty of the first years of her life. Work is very important, but so is she! Plus, I am very fortunate to have the most supportive husband one can wish for, who happens to be a very dedicated father. And, I can actually work much more efficiently now than before Skylie was born. You just learn to value every single minute you get for composing (and for sleep!).

St Georges' Series: Ensemble Goldentree

In 2015 we decided to found Ensemble Goldentree, a chamber ensemble that specialises in performing music for mixed ensemble and voice. In our case, it began with a focus on repertoire that included horn and soprano. This may seem like an odd niche, but there is a pretty simple explanation for the choice. Alison is a soprano. Tim is a horn player. And we were dating.

We are now in our third year of playing together (and our seventh year of…’dating’ - is it dating anymore at this stage?). Along the way we have learned a lot of valuable lessons about chamber music, project management and relationships. We’re probably not qualified to be giving advice on at least two of those things - but below we’ve shared some of the lessons we thought were the most important for our own personal development.

1. Leave the personal stuff outside the rehearsal room

Making or listening to music can be a very personal and subjective experience. It's okay to disagree on interpretation and expression, but it can be all too easy to make it personal when the disagreement is with someone you know well. Even when you mean well, often your friendly advice or criticism can be interpreted as an attack by someone who thought you were ‘on their side’.

For us, chamber music is a collaborative exercise and it's important to have contrasting and competing ideas in the rehearsal process. That is how a unique sound is forged! However, these ideas need to be developed and encouraged in a safe environment where every member can trust that their input is valued. This means putting your ego aside and remembering to show your colleagues a little bit trust yourself. This segues nicely to our next observation...

2. Communication is the key

It's often not enough to just ‘mean well’. Your colleagues cannot read your mind and your words and actions are important. If you say that you love someone's idea, but then proceed to completely dismantle it, they will notice - especially if they know you well! It is always best to be honest, concise and clear in your communication.

This is especially important in a chamber music rehearsals where this is almost always no conductor. Without a clear leader, the rehearsal can feel like a competition instead of a collaboration. We’ve found it really helpful to nominate a leader. This person’s role is not to act as an executive, but as a facilitator for discussion. Imagine them as the ‘talking ball’ that you used to throw around in primary school when it was your turn to talk. They need to be able to move the rehearsal along and ensure that everyone has the opportunity to speak...or just...be quiet for a moment.

Body language is also very important, particularly when working with people who are close to you. We spend so much time around one another that it has become second nature for us to pick up on each other’s subtle actions in rehearsal. This can help to preempt potential arguments, but can also serve up some hot humble soup if your words don’t match what your hands and eyes are saying!

3. Accept that you will make mistakes

Working with each other we have learned that we need to accept that we will often be less than perfect in front of a person whose opinion we value highly. This can be easier in our personal life, where wearing pajamas all day or drying our underwear in the lounge-room is acceptable, than it is in rehearsal. However, getting caught up in the feeling that you need to play perfectly in front of your partner isn’t healthy or practical.

Learning this has helped us develop a greater acceptance for the rawness and imperfection that is part of the learning process in general. When you know that your mistakes are part of building a bigger musical picture, you take more risks and sometimes discover something profound in the music that you didn’t fully appreciate before...

4. Have fun and embrace vulnerability

We chose to do chamber music together because we enjoyed it! Ultimately, we want to continue enjoying it. Opening up your artistic self can leave you feeling unprotected, but we’ve found that by embracing the joy that music making brings to us we can allow ourselves to be more artistically vulnerable with each other from a position of mutual trust. On the days where the joy doesn’t come so easy, the addition of baked goods and some good-natured banter to the rehearsal room can really lift the mood.

In other industries, the emphasis on employees working conditions and mental health receives much more structured attention due to the existence of various awards and contracts. When you are in charge of your own projects, we’ve found it is important to remember to treat yourself and your colleagues with the same level of professional respect. Small gestures can go a long way to making the rehearsal room a happier and more productive space!

5. The skills are transferable!

If playing chamber music together for more than half of the time that we have been together has taught us one thing, it is that the skills we learn in the rehearsal room are transferable to our everyday lives. Patience, gratitude, collaboration and communication all play an important part in both chamber music making and maintaining a healthy relationship. For us, running projects together raises the stakes, but it also leads to higher rewards. It is important for us to understand that whatever we start together, we finish together.

Balance is our mantra. Music should never be ‘work’ - and neither should our relationship.

Creating Kammervolk: Allison Wright

Allison Wright is the founder and producer of Kammervolk.

The Kammervolk collective is back again with a new multidisciplinary performance that fuses electronics, live music, visual art and an interactive space, alongside brand new compositions. Where did the idea come from, and how did you go about making it a possibility?

Over the past couple of years I’ve been lucky enough to work with some major cross disciplinary production companies (as a trumpet player) spanning everything from musical theatre, contemporary dance, opera and ballet, which has really inspired me in regards to collaborative performance. Last June’s Kammervolk performance Chamber People featured a collaborative piece with poet Jacob Sutherland and illustrator Minna Leunig and was received so well by audiences that since then I have been toying with the idea of curating an entire concert of collaborations. I am so lucky to be close friends with a plethora of creatively minded and highly skilled artists, so once I started sketching ideas for the show, names and details fell into place very organically. Everyone I spoke to was on board from the word ‘go’, and after a few very casual beer & pizza filled meetings we had sketched the idea for creating sensory based experience focusing on the dialogue between projected media and a string quartet.

You're bringing together genres of music by featuring a string quartet, a DJ and electronics in a space that alludes to Warhol's Factory in that lots of art is happening simultaneously. Why is the space a performance occurs in so important to music and art making, and how did you create the immersive experience that we see in Neon Parlour?

I love the reference to Warhol - it’s a fantastic association that a few people have made in response to reading about this show. I suppose we should have called it Kammervolk’s ‘Exploding Plastic Inevitable’ as a homage. Maybe next time!

One of the driving ideas behind Kammervolk is presenting different creative disciplines simultaneously without there being any kind of social-hierarchy in value between them.
For us, this means taking the opportunity to put highly skilled instrumentalists somewhere other than on a concert stage, whilst also introducing some of the cultures of performance practice into spaces that wouldn’t commonly accommodate it. It’s a balancing act, and the venue is a huge part of meeting that middle ground. Neon Parlour’s project space is essentially a large white box, which we saw as a perfectly malleable performance space. As soon as we stepped in the door the first time and looked around the maze of smaller artist studios and the project space, we knew the vibe was perfect for this show. They have a wonderful creative community of art makers of all disciplines and the fantastic team there has been on board with our idea from the beginning. They even answered emails about our request to make small holes in the walls for hooks at 3am! We’re particularly excited to welcome textiles designer Simone Berman into the Kammervolk Collective this year, who has worked on a variety of projects including designing and installing spaces for festival goers at Pitch Music and Arts Festival. Six or seven months ago when Mark Romei and I first started brainstorming ideas for this show we kept coming back to the idea of putting the audience inside a box or a world of our own creation and we’re really proud of the large variety of elements that have gone into achieving this dream!

Creating Kammervolk: Mark Romei

How different was your creative process in for immersion from your regular practice? Did the inclusion of sound/audio components influence your output in any way?

I like to keep my creative process as exploratory and experimental as possible, while also limiting myself to using a minimal amount of elements each time. Current works in my regular art practice involve using laser cut patterns derived from hand-drawn shapes to create different paintings, experimenting with the possibilities and complexities created by this merging of artistic expression and technological fabrication.

I view the works created for Kammervolk as an extension of this practice, with one piece demonstrating part of my painting practice live for camera, and the other using refractions and intensities of light instead of paint, but still essentially using the same motion in producing the art. In both works, there is an emphasis on movement and gesture, contrasted to the sharpness of the combination of digital methodology. This kind of quick gestural expression, which when created through a process of technological addition results in a rhythmic and harmonious artwork which is a repeated notion throughout my work.

Aside from your artistic practice, you're also currently studying architecture! Does your understanding of physical space influence your art in any way, and did this affect your work for immersion?

There are many ways in which my art practice and architectural work influence one another. The dialogue between low and high tech is something both practices explore: examining and experimenting with the new methods of production with an aim for simplicity and reverence for traditional practices. For Immersion, both works are a dialogue between the physical and the digital, each containing numerous layers of each in their production.

Their richness lies in these layers. For example, the light piece is the layering of a hand-drawn form which is digitally manipulated, laser cut out, used in a physical manner to cast shadows and refractions with lights, recorded and then digitally manipulated once more, creating a complex relationship between the digital and the physical, where they are constantly in dialogue with one another, mirroring our own lives in many ways.

Creating Kammervolk: Clare Gorton

Clare Gorton will be performing the viola in Kammervolk: Immersion.

You have a broad performance biography that spans from baroque to contemporary folk music. What about working on and performing the music of living composers interests you?

I've always found the idea of specialising in one form of music really stressful. How do I decide between pursuing a career playing the 'Great Romantics' in a symphony orchestra, or being a baroque violinist in an early music ensemble, or commissioning new chamber music works for flexible ensemble, or playing with singer-songwriters late at night in inner-city bars? All of these musical experiences are equally valid and exciting and maybe it's my anxiety over making a decision but I don't want to have to choose just one of these things. Obviously pursuing lots of different things to a standard that I am happy with means lots of hard work at my instrument - which is very much still a work in progress! I don't want to be a "jack of all trades, master of none," but I do want to work on music that I'm passionate about without pigeonholing myself.

Given all of that, I am probably most passionate about playing the music of living composers, for a few reasons:

Firstly, as a violist, the music that is being written now for the viola is the best! For so long violas have been the butt of every music joke and part of that is historical: violists were for so long seen as the violinists who weren't strong enough players. As such, the solo repertoire is reasonably limited. I've found that music written for the viola more recently is much more idiomatic and embraces the instrument's idiosyncrasies, rather than shying away from them. I'm playing a piece called 'Tooth and Nail' for immersion by Brooklyn-based post-minimalist composer Missy Mazzoli which is scored for viola and electronics (backing tape). It's played with an in-ear click track which adds an extra challenge to the performance, but I'm really excited about it!

Secondly, I've grown a bit tired of only playing music written by bourgeois white men from many years ago. People of colour, women, LGBTIQA+ people and generally anyone is not a white cis male are often erased from how the history of classical music is told. One only has to look at the programming of most traditional classical music concerts to see that not much has changed. This is not to say I do not love and appreciate the great masterworks of Beethoven, Bach, etc. - but I think it's time that we prioritise the voices of composers who have for so long been absent from classical music programs. It's not diversity for the sake of diversity - it better reflects the current day music scene, and it is more musically interesting to showcase different voices and experiences!

What has the preparation process been like for immersion, and what does a regular rehearsal look like?

We're all really busy, so nailing down rehearsal times has been the trickiest part! We've had to be really efficient in the way we rehearse, but the joy of working with such excellent musicians meant that a lot of things were working really well after our first rehearsal. Another great thing about working with living composers is receiving real-time feedback from some of the composers right at the beginning of the process, which really helped.

A regular rehearsal is generally fuelled by caffeine and hummus, a very healthy amount of silliness and antics and when possible, winding down after the rehearsal by hanging out together. It's pretty special to make music with people you value as not only excellent musicians but also great human beings!

Our Rehearsal Room: lost+sound with Sarah Elise Thompson

Can you tell me about why lost+sound was started and the philosophy behind the collective?

Lost+sound came about from four girls: Mimi Kind, Alexis Weaver, Josephine Macken and myself, coming together with a shared love of quirky, experimental music making. We joined together through studying composition at the Sydney Conservatorium, and we noticed there was a real gap in putting on art that falls outside the box, and pushes boundaries of the conventional concert hall. We started the collective to share our different artistic fascinations to the wider community, to put on immersive concert experiences and create a support network for fellow women in the creative industries.

The collective supports and presents multi-art works, with a priority on the experimental - why is it so important to make these kinds of platforms available for female composers and artists to share their work?

At the beginning of this project, all four of us discussed how we interacted and generated ideas differently when we were together – as opposed to in a larger cohort of male, female, and other artists. We were all surprised to find ourselves putting forward more ideas, interjecting more, asserting our opinions much more strongly and we realised that this was because we all felt safe to take creative risks with each other. Opportunities in the experimental field don’t come around every day; so instead of waiting for our break to come, we have put the power into our own hands and created chances for our work to be shared with the wider community. Within this ensemble of emerging female artists, it feels like a space to express ourselves freely and try things that we may not necessarily do within a larger or mixed environment.

So it is necessary to have that welcoming, open-minded, creatively free environment for female composers to expand their creativity, take risks, see what works and then grow as an artist. This platform gives us a chance to show younger and aspiring artists that there are other women out there doing it. We’re proud of the work we create and we want to share it with others and use it to encourage fellow creators.

Your upcoming concert, Retrospectacles, focuses themes of identity and memory - can you share your thoughts on putting together a program and what your priorities are in curating lost+sounds projects?

It was important for us in curating the program that each one of us took our own individual approach to tackling the theme within our pieces. Each person has their own past and stories to tell, so we wanted the program to be accordingly diverse. So in this program, we combine an interactive installation, a work for Celtic flute, clarinet, kalimba and film, a piece for alto saxophone and electronics and an electroacoustic/dance collaboration. An unlikely combination; but very authentic to each of our individual styles. We prioritise works that can be pieced together under a theme, rather than specific instrumentation.

You'll be putting it on at 107 Projects - an art gallery in Redfern: how important is a space in the planning of a concert? How do you choose a venue for your performances, and is it a specific priority of yours to move away from the concert hall?

Picking the venue was crucial to the way we programmed our concert. The E3 room at 107 Projects is spacious with a stage and projectors, and regularly houses new experimental art projects. The space determines how much room we can fill our installations and crazy ideas in. I feel in the mediums we’re working in, the content is far from the “traditional concert feeling”, so our space needs to reflect that. In our concert, our audience is placed at the same level as the performers and in fact get to participate as well, to create a space that is able to be a more communal, casual atmosphere. In future concerts, we hope to explore other quirky spaces Sydney- warehouses, boats, who knows what else!

What does the future of lost+sound look like? What are your goals for the collective?

We’re looking forward to more collaborations and more performances in the future. This is only the start of a group that we’re hoping will grow in associated artists, and support. We’re all keen to keep experimenting with our craft, and this group provides us with the perfect excuse. I’m also always on the look out for new works and projects by other women creators, so I’m looking forward to being able to use this space to engage audiences with more diverse musical voices.

My Rehearsal Room: Lewis Ingham

Although A Storm, A City is my first attempt at concert organisation and promotion, from the very start I have been well aware of what I wanted to achieve through putting on this event: to create a unique performance environment in which to present new music. Coming from a composer’s perspective, I feel there is so much to be gained from pairing your music with a unique performance environment in order to leave an audience with a lasting concert experience and a strong memory of your composition. This advantage can really come to the fore when we present art music outside of the concert halls where it has traditionally been performed. Outside of the concert hall we can develop a different kind of immersion in music performance with venue choices, visual elements, and strong concert themes feeding into the creation of a unique performance environment to showcase new art music.

A Storm, A City is the title of my new composition for cello and electronics, after which the concert is named. I composed the piece as a response to my experience of walking through Melbourne as a storm gathered and broke over the expansive urban landscape. The work explores notated composition, improvisation, and electroacoustic performance as it transitions from slowly evolving sections of fragmented melodies to static moments of textural contemplation. The electronics track featured in the composition is completely derived from recorded violin samples, rendering the performance a very disembodied duet between violin and cello, between a storm and a city.

With accessible themes of ‘a storm’ and ‘a city’ permeating the entire composition, I wanted to create a performance environment that would allow for maximum immersion in these themes and the music. I had earmarked the cinema space at LongPlay as a potential concert venue for a number of reasons: its intimacy, the potential to project visuals during the performance, and the darkened space allowing sound to dominate the senses. With the venue ticking boxes in my planned immersive performance environment, I decided to try my hand, for the first time, at creating some visuals for the concert.

The measure of a project’s worth certainly comes to your attention when you are attempting a task beyond your own creative practice, particularly when it means hours of work designing visuals. Creating visuals for A Storm, A City permitted me to pinpoint the essence of the music I wanted to visually portray and appreciate how the visual and sonic elements would work together in performance. The visuals, which I really enjoyed creating in the end, represent both ‘storm’ and ‘city’ and have become an important part of the concert’s promotion as well as the performance. Existing as a slightly ambiguous collection of lines, the visuals have become the poster and promotional image for the concert and have been used in an attempt to immerse the audience in some of the concert’s themes before they even attend the event.

Taking sole responsibility of the concert’s organisational and promotional elements has really placed me outside of my comfort zone; however, it has been very rewarding to go through these new processes and apply my own creativity to each task. Although this might make me appear as someone who prefers to work alone, I am certainly not adverse to collaboration; working with talented emerging cellist Nikki Edgar has been the highlight of this project. Nikki and I met at the Tilde New Music Festival earlier this year and whilst we’d casually spoken of doing a piece together, a concert was a step beyond our expectations. During the festival, Nikki’s talents as an improviser were on display and this certainly influenced my decision to include improvised elements in A Storm, A City even though I had never included improvisation in any of my earlier compositions.

Since our decision to work on a piece for this concert, the collaboration between Nikki and I has seen some wild explorations into the cello. It was during our first meeting to go through some of my sketches that we began to look at odd ways of bowing; things quickly went left of centre from there. When the second bow emerged I knew there was something exciting to explore and the third scene in the composition, After the Storm, has become a dense exploration of different cello textures, bowing underneath the strings, and performing with two bows simultaneously – the latter has resulted in occasional mutterings of expletives during rehearsals. Nikki not only allowed me to realise my own compositional ideas for A Storm, A City, she offered her own knowledge as a cellist on individual phrases and techniques to give me the best representation of the ideas in my head. I formed many of the composition’s ideas only after hearing Nikki play, which really puts into perspective the merit of composers working closely with their performers.

Creating music will always be a process I value, however, the process of organising and promoting a concert has added a different kind of value to A Storm, A City, allowing it to form part of an experience. A composition can become part of a larger experience when showcased in a performance environment that offers something different to a regular concert experience and I feel a great thrill in being able to present my own compositions in my own individual way. I hope this thrill will remain as I continue to do so into the future.

St Georges' Series: Julia Bakowski

Perfect is the enemy of the good

Many music students have a keen ear for detail and a strong desire to achieve perfection. Those are valuable traits, but often the ‘inner critic’ can become a destructive force. Learning a piece can be a long process involving many performances. Don’t expect progress to be instant, and avoid comparisons with others (this one can take awhile to learn.) Accept criticism humbly.

Arrive early

A good habit to develop is to arrive at the rehearsal venue at least twenty minutes before the rehearsal is scheduled to begin. This allows time for a late bus, a missed train, or traffic. It also allows for set-up time, tuning up, a warm-up, and minor emergencies such as sourcing music stands and purchasing coffee.

Have clear priorities during practise time

Sometimes, a music student’s time is under pressure. When there is more music to learn than there is practise time, focus on the music you know you can’t ‘wing’ or ‘fake’. Break that music down into smaller sections according to urgency. Try not to panic when doing so.

Take notes

It’s time-consuming, but taking notes after (or during) lessons, masterclasses, workshops and rehearsals allows you to form a clear idea of which sections of music need the most attention. It’s also a great way to retain useful insights from teachers.

Assess practise room traffic

Free practise rooms are often at a premium. Make an effort to notice when they are most in demand, and don’t rely on getting practise done during those times. The hour between a midday lesson and a tutorial can be spent more productively than by wandering up and down flights of stairs looking for a free room and getting annoyed at whoever it is who’s left an instrument in an otherwise empty room for your last twenty laps of the building.

Two out of three ain’t bad

I once heard someone say that tertiary students can choose to have time for two out of the three following pursuits: study, sleep, and social life. Sadly there’s some truth to that. Some superhumans can manage all three, but mere mortals often need to accept their limitations humbly. Which brings us to…

Know your limits

Learn to recognise your own particular symptoms of stress, overwork, burnout or RSI. Then make a conscious effort to scale back to the bare minimum. At a certain point in my Honours year, I stood staring at myself in a practise room mirror trying to spot the violent eyebrow twitch I was experiencing. Thankfully, it was invisible. I know now that my ‘tell’ is the Eyebrow Twitch.

My Rehearsal Room: Ensemble 642

Formed in 2016, Ensemble 642 is Hannah Lane (early harps) and Nick Pollock (theorbo, lutes, baroque guitar). As two of the few young Australian early-plucked-string players the ensemble is united by their passion for historically informed performance and the art of basso continuo (the practice of improvising on a bass line in baroque music). As 642 they create dynamic performances of repertoire from the late 16th-early 18th centuries in collaboration with the finest Australian early music specialists.

All our best ideas for programming happen at the pub. This is something that happened early on before we became an ensemble when we discovered that we both enjoy spending large amounts of time over a beer talking excitedly about early music. Now it’s become a celebratory ritual that we partake in after we’ve spent hours in the library or online searching for music, tossing ideas around, or reading through seventeenth-century manuscripts to hear how they sound.

This social dynamic is an important part of our working relationship. When you spend large amounts of time with someone who is not, say, your partner or your best friend, you need to take the time to develop a rapport along with a healthy sense of mutual respect, both professionally and personally. Making music with someone is an intensely personal activity, which requires trust, openness and most importantly a good sense of humour and the ability to laugh at yourself!

These qualities are also something we look for in choosing our collaborators. Especially the good sense of humour since they need to be able to laugh at our terrible jokes! Being a great musician is only part of the equation in an industry that is built on relationships. As a basso continuo ensemble, collaboration is fundamental to what we do so we like to work with musicians who share our openness to musical experimentation, intellectual curiosity, dedication to historical performance practice, and profound love of the baroque repertoire and aesthetic.

We formed Ensemble 642 in early 2016 and viewed our first year as an experiment in working together; we were totally open to the idea of failure, which is an important aspect of any creative pursuit! 2016 was sort of flying-by-the-seat-of-our-pants and figuring things out as we went along. We knew we wanted to focus on specific repertoire which we wouldn’t have the opportunity to perform elsewhere and we knew who we wanted to collaborate with so we went from there. We ended up having an incredibly active year with both self-presented concerts and external bookings. The process for producing a concert goes something like this: Decide on repertoire and a concept, confirm the involvement of any guest artists, find and book a suitable venue, do a budget so you know you can pay your overheads, pay any guest artists, and pay yourself (even if you decide that initially paying yourself constitutes the price of a pint at your local pub!). It's also important to publicise the concert well in advance and through a variety of different channels to ensure that you have an audience, prepare written material for printed programs if you need them, and finally rehearse and perform your concert (which trust us, will seem like a walk in the park after you’ve done all the other things!).

In our first year, we did things like stay up until 4am the night before a concert to complete program notes or book a venue that was great... apart from the fact that it was in a location, no one could find, which halved our audience! We learned the hard way that project management, administration, marketing, and publicity take a lot of time and energy. You need to build that into the timeline for your project so you can focus on the music when you need to. Our first year of working together also taught us how to be good colleagues, as our individual freelance careers are developing in parallel to our work as an ensemble. We are firm believers in the idea of coopetition as opposed to competition: together we are stronger! This doesn’t mean that you have to like everyone or be completely uncritical but it does mean that you should learn to celebrate each other's successes and be supportive when someone hits a bump in the road.

As the first concert of our 2017 series approaches, we are thinking a lot about audience development. Audiences for our self-presented concerts in our first year mainly consisted of friends, family, colleagues, and members of Melbourne’s dedicated early music community. We’ve all heard the cliché that ‘classical music is dead’ and seen the statistics showing that the typical audience member is over sixty. We find baroque music to be utterly compelling and we want to share this with as many people as possible regardless of age. However, we do understand that there are certain barriers prohibiting younger people from attending concerts. We know this because we have experienced those barriers ourselves. With this in mind, we decided to reduce the price of our student tickets for our 2017 concert series to make them more accessible and we are aiming to market more directly to students. We’re performing in the easily accessible and intimate venue of the beautiful Medley Hall music room in Carlton, providing great wine for our audience to enjoy, and leaving any stuffy concert hall conventions at the door.

At the moment there is a real sense of growth and energy in the early music scene in Australia and it is exciting to be able to contribute to that as part of the new generation of ‘HIP-sters’! While the specialised nature of our instruments does, at the moment, make it necessary for us to pursue further study overseas, we are extremely fortunate to benefit from the generosity of various mentors and artistic role models in Australia, many of whom are now also our colleagues. There’s nothing more rewarding than being in a rehearsal or performance with someone you really look up to and seeing their eyes light up at the same time at yours.

My Rehearsal Room: Tabatha McFadyen

You're about to perform a recital with your long-time collaborator, Alex Raineri, that features some of the big hits of the lieder repertoire. Can you tell us about programming the recital: how you chose the pieces you'll be performing, and a little about the themes of the program?

The way our programming starts is pretty self-indulgent - we think of pieces we like, and we think about whether there is a way that we could perform them. The Bergs have been on our bucket list for a while, so I’m beside myself that we’re finally making it happen.

As it were, this time the theme emerged of its own accord. Nearly every one of these songs involves a young character who's completely cracked - a motley crew of obsessives, zealots, and total nutjobs. In one guise or another, they’re all a part of that great youthful tendency to make things that are not actually the be all and end all the zenith or nadir of your life, and in turn, probably make some daft decisions. The music for each of them absolutely commits to that level of intensity - investing a symphony’s worth of genius and emotional content into a two-minute song. Of course, none of this resonates with me at all because I have never made one single bad decision ever.

Producing your own concert takes a lot more than just picking the music though - what has the process of putting together this performance been like, particularly in regards to the logistics of concert preparation?

Because of geography and time constraints, our rehearsal time is almost comically limited, so we have to make every second of it count. Therefore, before we get together, we get our nerd on. We divide the programme up, and then each of us tries to get to the bottom of our assigned songs - music, words, context etc. We send these across, each mark our scores up accordingly, and then when we get together we build on that.

The rehearsal process has become more truncated as we’ve gotten older, partly because we know each other well, and partly because we practised and got better individually.

When you're not singing, you're coordinating the marketing at Auckland Philharmonia, so you know a thing or two about using social media to build an audience. Do you have any suggestions for developing artists who are just starting to use social media to reach out and sell tickets?

I’ve only been doing this job for about 3/4 of a year now, so I’d hardly call myself an expert, but I’ve learnt an enormous amount. The biggest thing has been that your Audience with a capital A doesn’t actually exist, rather, the collection of people who will be interested in coming to see a gig are made of audiences, and to state the obvious, individuals. So, as far as I've experienced, it's about having the wherewithal to create varied content across a variety of mediums, to reach out and engage with all those different people. Think of different angles, don’t be afraid to be irreverent. The music’s extraordinary, but it doesn’t mean that you have to be reduced to being a whimpering, sycophantic mess when you’re trying to convince people that they might like to listen to it.

You mention that this performance is being held in the first place you and Alex ever lost a competition. Statistically, it's more likely that we lose comps than win them, but it often feels like a pretty heavy blow particularly when you're starting out. How do you look after yourself through the ups and downs of the classical music world?

I’m still bitter about that. Infuriatingly, the fellow who won was and is a damn fine singer. I hate him.

Seriously though, I think it’s very VERY important to separate success in obtaining/creating employment vs. success in competitions. If you’re not getting work, scream, cry, be bitter, drink heavily, assess whether it’s all worth it and then if it is, pull yourself back together and get back on the horse in your own time. That bit’s a slog, but it’s a reasonably straightforward process.

I personally think that competitions are a horse of a different colour. They’re very imbued in emerging-singer culture as ‘the only way’ to make your career happen, which is a conviction that obviously doesn’t hold up under scrutiny, but it’s pretty hard to shake. It’s no secret amongst some of my colleagues that I have an odd relationship with competitions. I’ve lucked my way into some successes in them and while many provide incredibly supportive environments of which I’m truly grateful for, ultimately competitions have the power to seriously distract you from just getting it together and becoming good at singing. As a singer, you already tend to have a lot of people telling you what they think, and the fact that you’ve ended up being a performer indicates that it’s pretty likely you're a people pleaser, so adding extra people to that cocktail becomes a slippery slope.

So my advice as far as looking after yourself in Competitionland would be:

1. View your competitors as colleagues.

2. Keep the people who are adjudicating you in perspective - no matter what they’ve achieved, they’re just people, and no one person has the authority to speak for an entire industry - and similarly, remember the fact that they are basing this judgement on as little as 5 minutes of singing.

3. ALWAYS prioritise actual singing work over competitions. Employers don’t give a damn what you’ve won, they care about how you sing.

4. Probably just don’t do them until you’ve got an ironclad sense of self-esteem. A 1 in 50 chance of winning $25,000 is, in a way, good odds, but be careful what’s being sacrificed in collateral damage to acquire that cash that, as you say, is statistically unlikely to be yours.

At the end of the day, the only thing that makes this peculiar pursuit worth it is the music, the drama and the sheer joy of the act of singing. If you’re in an environment, and particularly a training environment, where that is in ANY WAY compromised, run away, Simba, and never return. If it’s making you feel worthless and furious what the HELL is the point? You can either give it up, or find a way to distill all that junk and remember why on earth you did it in the first place, and build it back up one five-note scale at a time.

Finally, it's pretty special that you and Alex have been performing together for so long! Can you tell us about how you met, and what keeps you working together?

We met when we were toddlers in our first year of university at the Queensland Con. So, to be exact, we were drunk toddlers. Alex was 15 (yes, you read that correctly) and a bit awkward, I was 18 and unbearably obnoxious. We’d seen each other around, and then this competition - The Margaret Nickson Competition for Voice and Piano - came up and, because I was violently competitive and he was the best pianist out, I forced him to perform with me against his will. The rest as they say…

I keep performing with Alex because he’s a genius and because he lives and breathes every moment of a programme with me. We come at all the music we perform with equal passion and commitment, and he convinces me that I’ve got the goods to make a contribution to it. He makes me a better musician, and I never lose sight of the fact that I’m damn lucky to work with him. Heaven alone knows why he keeps performing with me, but if anybody tells him how foolish he is to do it I’ll kill them.

Our Rehearsal Room: OurEyes Collective with Benjamin Heim

First up, you've recently made the transition to working and studying in London, and already you've set up an ensemble that's making waves in the new music scene! What has that move been like for you, and can you tell us a little about setting up a new ensemble in a new city?

The move has been incredible, and studying at the Royal College of Music has opened so many doors for me. This year alone I have presented a project that sonifies live drawings using machine learning (and Lotte Betts-Dean’s voice!) at IRCAM in Paris, and performed in Tallinn music week in Estonia thanks to my new friends at Nonclassical. Having Europe on your doorstep is just amazing.

As for setting up a new ensemble in a new city, that is a little more difficult - it’s like starting from the bottom again and learning how the scene works over here as you go. Back in Australia my old group Argo had formed a great community of people: mentors that helped us out, music departments willing to lend us gear, performers we loved working with, and an audience base that showed up to all our concerts. It’s really hard doing without all that! I am really lucky that I get to work with my talented girlfriend Courtenay Cleary (violin) on this project though, so I guess you win some and lose some.

OurEyes focusses on art-through-social-media, which is a really exciting concept particularly because of the ever-increasing engagement young people have with sharing their thoughts and art online. How did you come up with this philosophy, and why is it important to use social media to engage people with contemporary music?

I am always searching for something new, the next evolution of artistic expression, and to me technology and social media are exciting fields with untapped musical potential. Social media is changing the way we experience the world, shaping how we consume media, and fast becoming a core facet of human existence. Whether this is a bad thing or not, it means that the ways we experience and consume music are also changing. As an artist I am incredibly interested in this shift and what exactly the future of music may hold, so I therefore seek to explore it in my work. I want to go beyond simply using social media as a tool to engage audiences by having it become an intrinsic part of the performance. The way we are engaging with this in PHANTOMS is by having a live stream that allows the online audience to interact with the live performance, even though they may be over the other side of the world. I also have a lot of ideas to work on in the future, perhaps producing live streamed pieces that sonify data from Facebook or Twitter in real time, so lookout for more work like this!

This production, which allows the audience to interact with space as well as art and sound, is also being live streamed for those who cannot make it. What excites you about the possibilities that live streaming allows, and what has been the process in setting this up for PHANTOMS?

I really think we are on the brink of a new age where live streaming will be an essential part of the marketing and delivery of any event. Music festivals like Coachella are now live streaming all their sets and it's great to see arts organisations hopping on the bandwagon too; I really love this new trend of live streaming rehearsals and behind the scenes material. I worked with live streaming for Argo’s ILLUMINAE and it was great to see all the people watching online and engaging our music in such a way. For PHANTOMS I wanted to push the concept as far as I could, to create an interactive live stream that simulates what it is like to actually be at the concert. Luckily I am working with the Royal College of Music on this project, and was able to draw upon their previous experience with live streaming. The first idea we came upon was to stream multiple camera angles at once, something the College had not done before. The ability to stream three angles at once is incredibly important for the nature of this concert as it occurs across three different rooms, with the action in one room being fed into others and reconfigured there. Having three angles means that the online audience can experience the event in a similar way to the live audience: they can watch a solo performance in its raw form, then see the live manipulation of that feed by switching cameras. They could even watch a room where nothing is happening yet, seeing the performers getting ready for the next section. This makes the audience a much more active participant in the experience and immerses them more in the music. The final layer to the live stream is the interactive element whereby the online audience can contribute to the live visuals by drawing on a sketchpad below the stream. The shapes they draw in response to the music are then incorporated into the live concert visuals in real time. I think interactivity is the missing link to creating an online immersive experience. I hope the realisation that they are part of a performance that may be occurring on literally the other side of the world will make them feel they are something more than just a spectator.

Five new works are being premiered for a pretty diverse range of instruments. Can you tell me about the process of writing these pieces, including what the timeline and rehearsal period was like?

Planning and writing music for an immersive concert is a very unique process, but luckily one I have had some experience in. My main focus in designing this concert was to produce a seamless flow between each piece in the program while making sure the performers knew what they should be doing at all times. Drawing on my experience from Argo I developed a system of auditory and time synchronised cues, which guide the performers through the concert and correspond to directions in their music.

The writing of the pieces also gave me some new experiences, as I hadn’t written for pipe organ before. The instrument is fascinating as it is basically a huge additive synthesiser, but a lot to wrap your head around. Often the keyboards don’t even play the same note as the one you are pressing down! You have to write damn good music for the pipe organ too, because there is no way to effectively shape the sound over time - you just have to write really good notes and rhythms.

The timeline for this event was carefully planned out months in advance, and then carefully tossed in the trash. Best laid plans of mice and men… There are so many variables in a concert like this that you just have to roll with the punches and make everything happen whenever you can. The rehearsal period is actually much more laidback than normal because of the way the event was planned. Everybody can just show up and do their in, and it all fits together like a jigsaw puzzle - this means that we get to focus much more on the expressive side of things, and technical things, like the visuals.

What's next for OurEyes Collective?

Nothing is set in stone as of yet, but I can tell you that there may be some recordings coming, as well as few more audiovisual performances around London. We are looking at building on the base of this concert and developing a larger season in 2018. More coming soon!

My Rehearsal Room: Rebecca Fitzgibbon

The Vocal Ranges Festival is a weekend event jam packed with inspiring singing workshops, live performance, singalongs, festival choirs and storytelling. Set in Kyneton, Victoria, our festival welcomes all ages and levels of experience and aims to bring communities together through the joy of song, and the connection that shared music making provides.

I have been involved in Vocal Ranges Inc. (the not for profit organisation responsible for the Vocal Ranges Festival) for the past year. As a festival participant in 2016, I was taken by the sense of community, emotion and connection that both myself and fellow participants shared. In the workshops, even though I attended alone, I instantly made new friends and at the pub singalong I met attendees that had travelled from all over the state to make the day.

After the conclusion of the one-day event, I contacted the festival director, local musician and conductor Polly Christie, and expressed my heartfelt gratitude for providing such an inspiring festival. I also made it known that I wanted to be involved in the next festival in whatever capacity I could be! Following some discussion and meetings with Polly and the committee, I was inducted into the committee as the Festival Marketing Coordinator.

Marketing is a skill that I have acquired initially through my music tertiary studies (because we all need to be marketing managers of our art these days right?!) and thankfully also through my 9-5 office job that supports my current studies. Becoming increasingly familiar with differing social and print media platforms, graphic and web design has been an empowering experience for me and something that I really enjoy.

Through my experience with Vocal Ranges, I have communicated with some wonderful people from local and far-reaching communities, and I look forward to meeting them in person next weekend. We have had really positive interaction with individuals wanting to get involved, which reiterates to me that we’re engaged in creative work that’s important.

Highlights for me include contact from a group of three travelling from Queensland to make the opening night concert, and a future attendee who is so enthusiastic and excited to volunteer they keep putting their hand up for everything - how cool is that?!

Organising a festival is a BIG undertaking. There are grant applications, marketing plans, policy and contract writing, detailed budgeting, insurance organisation, venue management, volunteer and logistics coordination and more, but it’s all satisfying and achievable.

We’re a team of seven women, many of whom juggle other jobs or study (myself included) or do all of that and raise a family! Even though we’re busy bees we approach all of our Vocal Ranges commitments happily and wholeheartedly with a love of music and connection spurring us on.

With 10 days to go there are frenzied moments of elation and hair pulling anxieties. This has been a year of intense learning, information and contact gathering, and endless mental notes, ‘to do’ lists and meetings. It’s been an epic journey and now staring almost clearly at the finishing line, I don’t want it to end.

Next Friday will see the internationally acclaimed contemporary folk group The Mae Trio perform at the festival’s opening night followed by a weekend of contemporary vocal workshops, ‘pub style’ singalongs and further concerts with ARIA award winning Kavisha Mazzella and the “ebulliently eclectic” Mal Webb and Kylie Morrigan.

My Rehearsal Room: Rebecca Fitzgibbon

The Vocal Ranges Festival is a weekend event jam packed with inspiring singing workshops, live performance, singalongs, festival choirs and storytelling. Set in Kyneton, Victoria, our festival welcomes all ages and levels of experience and aims to bring communities together through the joy of song, and the connection that shared music making provides.

I have been involved in Vocal Ranges Inc. (the not for profit organisation responsible for the Vocal Ranges Festival) for the past year. As a festival participant in 2016, I was taken by the sense of community, emotion and connection that both myself and fellow participants shared. In the workshops, even though I attended alone, I instantly made new friends and at the pub singalong I met attendees that had travelled from all over the state to make the day.

After the conclusion of the one-day event, I contacted the festival director, local musician and conductor Polly Christie, and expressed my heartfelt gratitude for providing such an inspiring festival. I also made it known that I wanted to be involved in the next festival in whatever capacity I could be! Following some discussion and meetings with Polly and the committee, I was inducted into the committee as the Festival Marketing Coordinator.

Marketing is a skill that I have acquired initially through my music tertiary studies (because we all need to be marketing managers of our art these days right?!) and thankfully also through my 9-5 office job that supports my current studies. Becoming increasingly familiar with differing social and print media platforms, graphic and web design has been an empowering experience for me and something that I really enjoy.

Through my experience with Vocal Ranges, I have communicated with some wonderful people from local and far-reaching communities, and I look forward to meeting them in person next weekend. We have had really positive interaction with individuals wanting to get involved, which reiterates to me that we’re engaged in creative work that’s important.

Highlights for me include contact from a group of three travelling from Queensland to make the opening night concert, and a future attendee who is so enthusiastic and excited to volunteer they keep putting their hand up for everything - how cool is that?!

Organising a festival is a BIG undertaking. There are grant applications, marketing plans, policy and contract writing, detailed budgeting, insurance organisation, venue management, volunteer and logistics coordination and more, but it’s all satisfying and achievable.

We’re a team of seven women, many of whom juggle other jobs or study (myself included) or do all of that and raise a family! Even though we’re busy bees we approach all of our Vocal Ranges commitments happily and wholeheartedly with a love of music and connection spurring us on.

With 10 days to go there are frenzied moments of elation and hair pulling anxieties. This has been a year of intense learning, information and contact gathering, and endless mental notes, ‘to do’ lists and meetings. It’s been an epic journey and now staring almost clearly at the finishing line, I don’t want it to end.

Next Friday will see the internationally acclaimed contemporary folk group The Mae Trio perform at the festival’s opening night followed by a weekend of contemporary vocal workshops, ‘pub style’ singalongs and further concerts with ARIA award winning Kavisha Mazzella and the “ebulliently eclectic” Mal Webb and Kylie Morrigan.

My Rehearsal Room: John Keene and ensemble nouveau by Will Hansen

Formed, directed, and conducted by 20-year-old Sydney-based double bassist John Keene, ensemble nouveau is a student orchestra with a smattering of successful performances already under its belt. John spoke to fellow double bassist Will Hansen to discuss music-making, young artists and his musical ideology.

What is your motivation behind creating a student-dominated youth orchestra?

My motivation for creating the orchestra was threefold; firstly, to provide a rich educational environment for students and semi-professionals to learn new repertoire and to engage in a fun but supportive environment in a large ensemble or orchestra. Secondly, to give emerging musicians the opportunity to play a solo work with an orchestra, as these opportunities are unfortunately quite rare. The third reason was to give young composers the chance to write for a large ensemble, which doesn't seem to happen as much as it does for smaller ensembles. I guess it also provides a platform for me to develop my own conducting as well!

How did you discover a passion for conducting?

Through a friend and mentor, Simon Thew, previously the conductor of the SBS youth orchestra. We were just chatting one day when he suggested I might like to get into conducting- so I had a lesson with him and was mightily inspired. I then put together my own group of musicians to record a composition of mine for a recording competition called Tropscore, where I had to write a score for a Tropfest film. From there just dabbled as much as I could and became a bit more involved, and here I am now with ensemble nouveau!

What have your experiences with an orchestra been like up to this point, both as a player and conductor?

As a musician, I started off as a pianist… so there wasn’t much there in the ways of orchestral playing. I started playing bass soon after and joined my first youth orchestra in year 8- I was part of the Sydney Youth Orchestra from years 8 through 10, and participated in a few additional youth orchestras through the rest of School. At the end of High school, I became the youngest Sydney Symphony Orchestra fellow, and performed in several subscription concerts throughout 2015 and 2016. In terms of conducting, I was the string director of Cherrybrook Technical High School's string ensemble, so I was conducting on a weekly basis in a school setting. I've also been a member of the Symphony Services international core conductor's program, the last year that it ran was 2016, and I was fortunate enough to participate in the final year of the program. Through this, I had many opportunities to conduct the Adelaide, West Australian and Tasmanian Symphony Orchestras, as well as the Auckland Philharmonia Orchestra in various masterclasses- I ended up participating in 8 different masterclasses last year! Now I've got regular concerts with ensemble nouveau, and haven’t performed with a professional orchestra yet.

How does being a double bassist influence your role as conductor?

That's an interesting question! I think that the most important thing for me is that it frames my way of thinking about my role as a conductor, in that I don’t intend to portray myself as the “man up the front” … In actual fact, having already played in orchestras for many years I’ve developed an understanding that conducting is much more of a collaborative process; I'm one of the many musicians that's there to work with everyone else. I've obviously been lucky enough to see a varying range of conductors come through the SSO, and have seen the differing ways in which they work with the orchestra; consequently, I have discovered what works and what doesn't, and how the musicians respond. I guess that as a conductor, my main goal is to try to make the music into something better than what it was at the start of the rehearsal process. Not to say that it starts off badly, but the principal goal when I work with an orchestra is to make it better. There's also a way of speaking to an orchestra, which I empathise with as a double bass player, and a certain level of politeness; and there is a rigor in the work ethic that you need which I try to bring to ensemble nouveau despite it being a student project. I suppose that being a double bassist in an orchestra has helped me refine my conducting skills by essentially being on the receiving end and reciprocating what I see.

You commission a new work by a young composer for most concerts- where do you place the importance of modern Australian music in today's orchestral canon?

With the exception of the "Symphony in a day" concert this year, it is one of my primary goals to commission new works for each concert. Obviously, all kinds of Australian music are important, as they improve art and allow for the possibility of codifying a cultural paradigm in Australian music; it’s important for both educational and archival purposes. In terms of the orchestra itself, these kinds of opportunities for composers to write for orchestra are extremely rare, especially for young musicians who have the potential, and will do a great job, but who don't necessarily have the forces available. So, ensemble nouveau was created, in addition to the two reasons mentioned earlier, to provide a platform for them to have a work rehearsed and performed- they can see how the process works and learn from that experience. It's another opportunity to add to the canon of Australian music, but in the rare setting of a full orchestra or large ensemble.

You select works from a very diverse range of repertoire- what is your reasoning for this, and do you plan to continue supporting contemporary composers?

It's not just an orchestral project for performance, but is one that encompasses a holistic brand of music that includes concerti and new compositions, as well as the existing canon of repertoire. The idea is that it's an educational experience as well as a fun one for the musicians who perform and write orchestral compositions. The repertoire we choose is completely broad but also challenging, with anything from the earliest Haydn symphonies up to the mid-20th century with Bartok's Divertimento for String Orchestra. The Repertoire is challenging, and not necessarily unpopular, but it's not what generally comes to mind as what's being heard… this allows the musicians to broaden their own knowledge of repertoire. For example, this week we will perform Schoenberg's Pierrot Lunaire, which everybody will no doubt know through HSC music; however, the work is so rarely performed that seeing it in concert will be a unique experience for both the audience and performers.

Who do you look up to in the music world?

I would say that my favourite composer is Beethoven, as he's always been someone who has inspired me each as a conductor, composer, and performer. For performers, I'd have to say Alex Henery, my teacher, who has been with me for nearly 8 years now. He has been a fantastic bass teacher and mentor throughout my education in double bass. For conducting, I guess there's a few people… Simon Thew, who initially got me into conducting, Richard Gill, who has been at the forefront of Australian pedagogy and music education, and of course my teacher, Eduardo Diazmuñoz.

What do you have planned for the rest of the year?

We've got six concerts planned so far for 2017- we've already had one, and the second is on this Wednesday. Following that we have two more concerts of a similar nature, then a "Symphony in a day" event in which we will learn Beethoven 3 in a day! Finally, there will be an all-Mozart program at the end of the year, in October.

How do you hope to change the music world?

I don't know yet, really! I'm just experimenting with becoming the best musician I can. I really hope to improve the music scene and have people engage more with music; both people who aren’t musicians and people who are perhaps looking to be inspired to continue and perfect their craft. I’m not necessarily trying to make a "John Keene Stamp" anywhere on the music world- for me it's about enhancing and enriching the lives of people.

My Rehearsal Room: Kate Millett

I am very lucky with my involvement with BK. Since its my baby, I can work on whatever texts I feel a connection with and I am free to create my own interpretations and production design. The other reason why I feel so blessed is that I get to collaborate with my best friend, conductor James Penn. We both come from pretty different viewpoints when it comes to opera; he’s fairly traditional while I am not.

I start out my process by finding a good translation, sitting down with the text and reading the words. I try to not listen to the music until I have a good idea in my head of the actions. I then read other books or texts that the words remind me of. For example, with Werther, I kept being reminded of late 19th century realist playwrights, such as Ibsen, particularly Hedda Gabler. I wanted to incorporate that level of intimacy and realism into my interpretation of Werther. When I start character discussions with my singers, I also make sure to pass on these inspiration texts. I give my leads homework and reading material to try and create the perfect character on stage. I make sure to take time and sit down with the singers and start to break down their emotional journey. I try to make sure the interpretation makes sense to them as well. Because I mainly work with emerging artists, I need to make sure what I'm asking them to do makes sense and is something they can be comfortable with. I make sure to work with them to develop a character that not only works with the overall arc of the opera but also works for them.

After I have read the piece and listened to it through a number of times – I use my commute to and from work to play the opera on repeat in the weeks leading up to the start of rehearsal – I sit down with James and discuss what we each think of the overall story arc. We tend to disagree at first, but through discussion and debate, we come to a level of compromise which I think is the best way to create new interpretations while still having respect for the traditional viewpoint. We then break down each scene and each character. It’s a lengthy but enjoyable process. I find that if I can convince James of my point of view for a scene, then it can usually translate well on stage.

I also take time to come up with the overall design: what time period, what style, the kind of staging required. James tells me what he thinks and I then incorporate his ideas. I think its very important to keep the communication up between director and conductor, make sure we’re on the same page throughout the creative process and make sure the musical interpretation matches the action happening on stage.

Sometimes the interpretations of characters stems from the design. For La Traviata, which opens in August, I started drawing costume designs in my sketch book and they were all very stylised and stark – all black and white and glitter. Without providing any spoilers for the production, it led to me revising my interpretation of Violetta and all the fragmented ideas that had been floating around in my head snapped together.

The other side of a production is working within the rehearsal and performance space. Since all of our productions are very low-fi, we don’t have complicated technical requirements. We also try to present opera in many different ways, such as our production of Carmen that was shown in the round. We like to create a level of intimacy by removing the distance between singer and audience. By designing a production with little to no set or technical requirements, it makes it portable and malleable. It can often fit into almost any space.

I try to find venues that have the right ambience and feel for the production. For Werther, which we have set in post WW2 Britain, we’re performing in an old Masonic Hall, complete with oversized portrait of Queen Elizabeth’s coronation. The style of the venue fits the era perfectly. For Traviata, however, we wanted somewhere a bit more extravagant, to match the splendour of the music. The auditorium at 75 Reid Street fit the bill splendidly, even down to the beautiful grand piano. This again goes for La Voix Humaine. We wanted to emphasise the intimate nature of the piece. It’s a single soprano performing for 40 minutes. We’ve broken it down between 4 singers to help support the emerging singers we engage, and for the venue, we’ve chosen a very different location - Four at the Carlton Hotel. It is a series of 4 very small rooms, with each containing a single singer. The audience will move from room to room as the opera progresses. With the rooms being so small and opera singers being so very powerful, we might be selling ear plugs for that performance!

My Orchestra Project: Isaac Shieh

Even though my career path has taken me to a place away from large orchestral playing with modern instruments, performing in The Orchestra’s Project’s Easter Sunday performance of Gustav Mahler’s Symphony No. 6 in A Minor reminded me why I want to become a musician.

People always asked me why I want to become a musician. But when it comes to answering that question, it tends to revolve around the word ‘passion’ in an ambiguous way. I feel that at times, the phrase ‘a passion for music’ gets thrown around so much that it becomes vague and non-musicians still don’t get what you are on about and probably think you are slightly crazy (which in my case that might be true but let’s not focus on the negatives here).

In a glimpse back to my past, my orchestral ‘career’ first started with Melbourne Youth Music (now Melbourne Youth Orchestras) when I was 11 years old, when I first came to Australia with limited English and playing with kids a couple of years older than me. Despite the language barrier and age difference, I never felt that I was disconnected from the rest of the orchestra. In fact, I knew that we were all there to create something larger than us as individuals; a dream ignited by passions from 85 different young musicians. Through my association with Fabian Russell during my time in Melbourne Youth Music, and later University of Melbourne Symphony Orchestra, I was extremely fortunate to be involved in The Orchestra Project’s performance of Mahler 6. In many ways, Fabian has always played an integral part in my development as a musician. In a glance back to the 12 year-old me, I was intimidated by such an authoritative figure, who demanded nothing short of brilliance from his players. But within that fear I have grown a tremendous amount of respect and love for the man as a musician and as a person. Fabian has always inspired us to be the better musicians than we think, and pushed us to our limits. But at its very core, he has ignited young musicians’ passion for art and united us through music of great beauty and intricate emotions.

To be able to be a part of The Orchestra Project’s performance of Mahler 6 is incredible in many ways. To sit side-by-side next to seasoned professionals and absorb their knowledge is simply an invaluable experience; an opportunity that is still rare despite the increase of professional training opportunities. Not only did I learn the subtlest aspects of orchestral playing, I was constantly inspired by them and in turn aspired me to become the best version of myself as a musician. Undoubtedly, Fabian and The Orchestra Project provided me with the skills that I could not learn from a classroom or a practice room. In the space of three days, I improved immensely as a musician; gaining a far better understanding of the necessary questions I need to be asking myself and actions I need to take to truly become a professional musician.

But I think The Orchestra Project transcends from being purely an educational institute for developing young musicians. Leading from the front is Fabian Russell, who himself is a pursuer of great art by searching for beauty from within. What I learnt from him during this unforgettable experience is the joy in being able to share the passion lied within such a masterpiece with not only your colleagues, but with the audiences. Ignited by Fabian’s strive for love of great art, I learnt what it truly means to be passionate about music; the ability to narrate inexpressible emotions and sensations through fantasies from within, and share those intimate and vulnerable moments from music making with friends and strangers. As musicians performing and audiences experiencing Mahler’s Symphony No. 6 in the South Melbourne Town Hall, we were all living in the same moment; from the poignant lyricism in the slow movement and the powerful hammer strikes in the finale. We all shared the same dream; an intimate dream that encapsulated great sentiments and passions through the essence of time. While The Orchestra Project serves as a great organisation that aims to propel young musicians into the professional world, it stands for something that is far greater: it is a source of passion.

Our Orchestra Project: Michelle Wood

You were part of The Orchestra Project when you were still a student, and now you’re coming back as a mentor. Can you tell me about the experience of sitting with professional artists when you were in the early stages of your career, and what that taught you about the job you have now in the MSO?

I remember these experiences so fondly - it was a huge rush! Although I'd had experiences in youth orchestras it's a little bit different when suddenly you find yourself surrounded by people who you've had lessons from, or seen performing... suddenly it's you there WITH them! You want to play well, and prove your worth to your colleagues and mentors, but it's all in such an encouraging and welcoming environment. This really gives you a real sense of the 'family' that an orchestra becomes - fantastic musicians all working together to create something amazing every week!

Why is the opportunity to play the large-scale symphonies important for your development as a young orchestral musician?

There is nothing worse than being on your trial for a job in an orchestra, and looking at the weekly rosters seeing symphony after symphony that you have never played before! Nothing really prepares you for what it's like to play Mahler or Strauss for the first time, and you could play all the orchestral excerpts in the world in your practice room and it still isn't quite the same as performing the work as a whole. But imagine the feeling when you know you've played something before - the familiarity and comfort that brings is pretty wonderful! This is why these experiences are so invaluable - one day you just might be on your trial, and you're suddenly playing Mahler 6 next week, but it's ok because you've already got it under your fingers!

Can you tell me about the skills aside from being a great player you need to develop to be part of a symphonic orchestra, that may not be initially obvious?

Being a good technician at your instrument is a given, but being a good human with a great set of ears and eyes is even more valuable. Rehearsals happen at a super quick pace, so being aware of what is going on in front of you, within your section, from the conductor, the concertmaster, and listening 'beyond' your own sound is particularly useful. There's also the more subtle art of learning how to 'fit' within your section. That doesn't mean necessarily subjugating your own musical intuition, but it does mean being able to know how to blend, how to interact with your colleagues, and knowing what is and isn't appropriate (both musically and otherwise!). Put simply - it's about being a champion team, not a team of champions!

As a young orchestral player, perhaps still in high school or at an early tertiary level, what options are available to you if you’d like to improve your listening skills and instincts?

Well, I might be biased, but as much chamber music and orchestral performance opportunities to play with others as possible! Join your local youth orchestras, apply for music camps - you will never ever forget these experiences, and they will give you the best possible start for a potential career in orchestral performance.

Mentoring is hugely important to you – what do you get out of being part of this kind of project now, having performed professionally in both orchestral and chamber settings?

This is by far the best part of my job. I get such a huge buzz out of working with young musicians (I like to think it wasn't THAT long ago since I was one), and projects like this are so wonderful for spending time with and meeting some really fabulous people who may become my future colleagues! I finish these sort of projects completely inspired - it's hard not to love playing Mahler when you're surrounded by infectious enthusiasm.

Our Orchestra Project: Fabian Russell

The Orchestra Project commenced 15 years ago in Melbourne! Can you tell me about how the idea came about, and why you initially started the program?

The goal of The Orchestra Project is really to be a celebration of the community of Melbourne musicians. That’s what started us, and that’s what has kept me going. Back in 2001 while I was a member of the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra as a player, I participated in this great side by side project with the Australian Youth Orchestra. The young members of the AYO were seated amongst professional musicians, and over the course of four concerts in the Sydney Myer Music Bowl, we put on some concerts by ourselves, as did the AYO, then we all came together to play Mahler 1. It was a really terrific project, that really sparked something in my imagination. I’d already been a practising professional musician for 15 years, but I’d never been involved in a project like that one. It really opened my eyes, and I started thinking about how we could do something like that on a more ongoing basis here in Melbourne. I started chatting to some fellow players and conductors, and basically, they said if you want to give it a shot, start a pilot program, we’ll get behind you. So with the help of three young administrators - Naomi Whileman, Tim Kennedy and Helena Balazs - we did just that: we gave it a shot.

You were initially working off a “Symphony in a Day” type model - how does that work, and what does it teach young players?

We were, and we picked a pretty huge piece as our inaugural project: The Rite of Spring! In this model, you workshop the piece for several hours in the morning and into the early afternoon, then you perform it by the evening. As a player, you have to be prepared - it’s a big day. That first project was a real turning point for me, professionally. It was the first time I’d conducted a public orchestral project, and it really made me catch the bug. That first concert also brought people together in a way that hadn’t really been done before. Our musicians were from all over the place - Melbourne Youth Orchestras, ANAM, the Melbourne Conservatorium, Monash. It was an opportunity to meet and play with other people. After that initial performance, we decided to extend it, and our second piece of repertoire, Mahler 5, was prepared and presented in three days. That’s the model we’ve worked off ever since - you can get a surprising amount done in 3 days! It’s really special now, seeing how many of the top orchestral musicians around the country played in those early Orchestra Projects. After putting the idea on ice from 2008, it’s exciting to be starting up again with many of those musicians returning to lead the next generation of great orchestral musicians.

Before you became a conductor, you were an orchestral player, so you know first hand how important it is to have great professional mentors. What’s your orchestral origin story?

I was actually incredibly lucky to have had the start in orchestral playing that I did, and I still have to pinch myself. During high school, I was playing a lot in bands and orchestras, and absolutely loved it, but had no idea that it was a possible career path for me. I guess I thought I had to do the right thing and get a serious job, so I went into a business degree but kept playing around the place as much as I could. When I was 19, somehow I took the attention of someone at the Sydney Symphony when they didn’t have anyone available to play, and so out of complete desperation, they got me! I impressed them, and because there were, for some reason, no tuba players available, I got to stick around. It was an accident really! I had actually only been playing the tuba for a few years after being a high school euphonium player, so it was more good luck than anything that I got a contract out of that first try.

What do you learn, being surrounded by world-class performers, that you can’t pick up from studying?

So much! I don’t think ten years of study would have given me the same experience that playing in a professional orchestra gave me in three. It was incredibly good fortune, really. I learnt to play at a high level because I absolutely had to - everyone around me was a brilliant player, and I was surrounded by that every day. My colleagues certainly were more mentors than peers then. I wanted all their feedback to see how I could improve, so I would ask after performances and rehearsals, “how can I make this better?”. Before that job, I had no experience, and to be honest I’d hardly listened to orchestral music before that. It was a steep learning curve, but being right in the middle of it all was the ideal way to learn. When I started The Orchestra Project, I wanted to get as many fine orchestral players involved as possible, so young musicians could have that same experience as I did - hearing what was possible, and extracting as much wisdom as possible out of top players. This project now is about making opportunities for young players. The professional musicians give up their time to come and play and coach because they know how crucial that early mentorship is. We don’t ask students to pay any fees because it’s an expensive business to be a student, and we really believe in this method.

So why Mahler 6?

When you ask a young musician about what they want to play, they’ll give you the greats - Shostakovich, Mahler, Strauss. Generally speaking, big works are what get you excited, especially in your earliest days of orchestral playing. We’re also living in an internet world, where we’re entertained constantly, and the media has a huge influence in what all people find interesting. High drama is important, and when you’re young, you’re attracted to music that is not subtle. You want to play and listen to music that packs an emotional punch. Mahler 6? It runs the full gamut of emotions. It’s exciting to be sitting in the middle of an orchestra playing this work because it says so much. It’s an emotional feast - sometimes it’s dramatic and intense, sometimes it’s beautiful and intimate. Half the orchestra won’t have played this symphony before, and one or two may not have played Mahler before. The youngest in the orchestra is 18, the oldest is 68, so we’re bringing a whole lot of different life experience to the work.

To be an orchestral player you have to have more than just great technique in your arsenal of skills. What do you think young people can be doing to help build their orchestral tools?

I think good instincts are one of the most important things in an orchestra - you can’t get left behind, so you have to work pretty hard sometimes to keep up. You have to have a tough skin sometimes as well. It’s a tough gig to crack, and you’ve got to be okay with setbacks. You also have to be prepared. I don’t mean just by learning the music, but by being mentally, physically and emotionally prepared. It’s not the be all and end all to be an orchestral musician, by any means, but what doesn’t kill you can definitely make you stronger. Someone asked me recently about what it takes to be an orchestral musician, and I said: “you need to get up earlier in the morning!” You’ve got to be hungry for it. Keep chasing it, even if you make a mistake and feel like it’s not worth it. And discuss what you do and what your goals are with your colleagues and mentors! Unfortunately, we don’t have the financial infrastructure to hold in-person auditions for this program, so we choose people by consulting with the professional mentors. No one is not considered though, and if you’re keen to play in the next one, come and chat to me - it’s honestly as simple as that. We want people with drive and ambition and commitment just as much as we want technically good players. You don’t have to have years of experience - this can become your experience.

Our Orchestra Project: Eliza Sdraulig

I still vividly remember the moment I realised I wanted to be part of an orchestra. At the age of ten, I was watching my sister perform as a violinist in the Melbourne Youth Orchestra. I walked into the concert hall with no preconceived notions of what to expect, and perhaps with the sort of indifference young children often feel when they're taken along to their siblings' activities. As soon as the music began, however, I was captivated. The musicians were performing a compilation of music from celebrated Hollywood feature films, and I was awestruck by the sublimity and complexity of sound created by the symphony orchestra. At that pivotal moment, my great love of orchestral playing commenced.

Soon after, I began my ensemble training with Melbourne Youth Music (now Melbourne Youth Orchestras), starting in a string ensemble and steadily improving until I was technically and musically prepared for the mighty force that is the symphony orchestra. I loved every aspect of ensemble music making. Although fundamentally an introvert, I delighted in the fact that I was contributing and influencing such a depth of sound with so many like-minded young musicians. I was enthralled by the process of learning how to achieve a unity of sound, musical thought and a myriad of orchestral subtleties.

Over the years, I have been very fortunate to have been mentored by some of the most experienced and inspiring orchestral musicians. In 2008 I joined the same wonderful Melbourne Youth Orchestra that I had seen my sister perform in all those years ago. When I commenced it was the next generation of players, paired with the newly appointed Principal Conductor and Artistic Director, Fabian Russell. Throughout my four years in the Melbourne Youth Orchestra, I learned the greater refinement of orchestral playing while performing both a significant amount and a diverse range of orchestral repertoire. It was indescribably rewarding to perform monumental works such as Gustav Mahler's Symphony No. 5, Igor Stravinsky's The Rite of Spring and Olivier Messaien's Turangalila Symphony.

As well as imparting his great depth of musical knowledge, Fabian engaged some of Australia's finest orchestral musicians as mentors and tutors. He firmly believed in the importance of bringing emerging musicians closer to those already established in the profession. This was an idea that had come to fruition before his commencement at the Melbourne Youth Orchestra, through his unique initiative The Orchestra Project. Through my association with Fabian during my time in the Melbourne Youth Orchestra, I was lucky enough to be involved in The Orchestra Project. It was an orchestra made up of young musicians and the top professional orchestral musicians from around Australia. It gave me—and several other developing orchestral players—the rare opportunity to perform alongside an extraordinarily high calibre of professional musicians.

To learn about the most subtle aspects of orchestral playing from these seasoned professionals was incredibly important in my orchestral development. Purely from sitting next to and being surrounded by musicians of that calibre, I increased my awareness of the necessary skills of orchestral performance. Working with professionals quickly ensured that I began to ask myself the necessary questions such as: 'Am I achieving a sound quality and articulation that is homogenous with the rest of the section? What is the function of my part in relation to others at this point in the music? Which instruments and sections should I be communicating with and listening to here?'

Undoubtedly, the opportunity to be rehearsing and performing alongside professionals as an emerging musician is an invaluable experience, as what we build on in terms of orchestral skills is almost exclusively learned in the rehearsal situation. The only way to improve your orchestral playing is to do a lot of it, surrounded by those with a wealth of knowledge and vast experience. For this reason, programs such as The Orchestra Project are both educationally and culturally essential.

More than fifteen years since its inception, The Orchestra Project is returning for an Easter Sunday performance of Gustav Mahler's Symphony No. 6 in A Minor. It is a great joy for me to be coming back to this unique orchestral experience; albeit a few years older, there is always more one can learn from those who have years upon years of direct professional experience. Artistic Director Fabian Russell will once again take the helm, and the Orchestra will bring together those professionals who have mentored several of us now beginning our professional life as musicians and most importantly, those who are just beginning to discover the musical treasure that is the symphony orchestra.

Our Rehearsal Room: Ziggy and Miles Johnston

Can you tell me about the first time you ever performed together, and what that experience was like?

The first time we performed together (that we can remember!) was at our primary school for a fundraiser night. We were playing background music on a stage toward the side of the school’s hall for about two hours and we felt really excited about it. To this day, we have never felt nervous about performing, but the amount of adrenaline we’ve felt has decreased as we’ve become more comfortable and consistent on stage. We performed a few simple duets, and a lot of solo pieces in unison.

What has your rehearsal process been like for your upcoming recital at the Melbourne Recital Centre?

We both live at home with our parents, so rehearsing is convenient. We only start rehearsing together once we’ve learned our solo parts. As it gets closer to the concert we progressively do less solo practice, and more as an ensemble. Currently, we are rehearsing together every day that we can.

What is it about the energy of Latin music that attracts you, and how did you put together your program?

The Spotlight series (that our concert is part of) is very similar to the Local Heroes concert series, in that you present a one-hour program that ascribes to a unifying theme. We proposed two different concerts to the MRC based on the repertoire from our CD and pieces that we wanted to learn. The first concert we proposed contained classical art music from Australia, France, and America, whose composers are still alive today. The second concert consisted of highly-rhythmic music from Spain and South America, using the cultural and language connections as the theme. Melbourne Recital Centre suggested that we go with the second concert program for our concert in March. After looking back at our proposed program, we realised that we should remove the Spanish component; it was only about 20% of the concert.

Each piece that we will play in the concert has been chosen for a different reason. Energy is something that can be difficult to describe with words since it is something that is usually felt. Music is one of the few languages that can convey energy and emotions. Through our concert, we will take you on a journey through the world of Argentinian tangos, as well as Cuban and Brazilian classical music.

As siblings, how do you manage the balance between a professional and personal relationship? Do you find that you need that distinction to work effectively together?

This isn’t something that we’ve ever thought about. We care about each other and we care about the music. If anything needs to be improved, we say it; we care for and respect one another enough to say our opinions. It is important to both of us that we become our best and someday play better than our heroes. We have high standards for ourselves and will never be satisfied if the music isn’t realised to that standard. We don’t have to think about balancing our relationship based on personal and professional factors because we always enjoy working together and making awesome music.

How important has the mentorship of your teachers been to your musical development? Do you think there is value in having multiple teachers and the different creative ideas that come along with each of them?

We wouldn’t be where we are today without all the great teachers we’ve had. Because of the level that we’re at, any lesson we have with any teacher is kind of like a masterclass. We have chosen our current teachers because over time we have come to understand what we need from a teacher and what we are missing. Geoffrey Morris and Slava Grigoryan provide all this to us and we enjoy learning from them. In the end, you decide what you do with the music no matter who you learn from. For younger musicians, it is definitely better to just have one teacher since it makes the job of the teacher a lot easier. All teachers have different areas of expertise and you must get to a certain level before you can truly exploit that expertise.

Many of our readers are at the beginning of their professional careers. What advice would you give them in forging their own path in the contemporary professional musical landscape?

There are three extremely important factors in forging your own career. The first is to work incredibly hard at your craft and aim to be as good as your heroes. This involves a lot of efficient practice to improve, and listening to a lot of different styles of music. Broaden your musical tastes! The second factor is performing as much as you can. You need to get your name out there and build an audience. However, don’t play free gigs unless it’s really worth it. Don’t undersell yourself. The last factor is to remember to have fun.

Our Creative Process: Ensemble SIX-FOUR

SIX-FOUR is an ensemble and collective formed in 2016 by six students at the Melbourne Conservatorium of Music. Their intention was to delve into contemporary chamber music – an area which is often neglected by the curriculum. After playing together for around six months, the group, led by pianist, percussionist and composer Alex Clayton, brought together a host of around twenty other instrumentalists to perform two landmark pieces of contemporary Western art music: Terry Riley's 'In C' and Karlheinz Stockhausen's 'Plus-Minus #14'.

Stockhausen and Riley are some of the only twentieth-century western art music composers to pierce the modern public consciousness. Whilst 'Plus-Minus' and 'In C' were written within a year of each other (1963 and 1964), the pieces emerged from starkly different musical standpoints. Stockhausen came from a background in serialism, and was a pioneer in the spheres of electronic music and aleatory composition. His works pushed sonic and compositional boundaries – heavily influenced by his desire to test new musical theory for which he was gaining recognition at the time. Stockhausen wrote 'Plus-Minus' with artist and partner Mary Bauermeister; it was, essentially, an improvisatory exercise for his composition students. It requires extensive interpretation from the performers – there is no specified duration or rhythmic material, with only elements such as pitch material, articulation, texture and timbre provided by the composer. These parameters are contained within cells through which the ensemble moves together.

'In C', the better known of the two works, was written as a response to the post-modern serialist techniques that dominated compositional discourse in the post-modern era. The piece contains fifty-three cells of pitch material, all based around modes of C, that each musician in the ensemble moves through independently of one another at different rates. The result is a slowly moving, globular texture in which each instrument blends with the others to form a holistic body of sound and energy.

In theory, these compositions seemed simple for us to perform. When there is so much room for interpretation and every performance may render an entirely different result, there is no standard to which an ensemble can adhere but their own. We discovered, after listening to many different recordings, how varied each iteration of the work could be, even from the same ensemble in two different concerts. From an ensemble perspective, the most challenging part about playing these works was to create something of sonic interest or worth for the audience. We found it so easy to slip into habits of playing what is written on the page, unconcerned about the trajectory of the piece as it is all spread out in front of us. Once we began listening deeper and externally to those around us, the music slowly created its own form and narrative. It’s not often that we find ourselves in the classical world listening to others around us more than we are listening to ourselves, and for pieces like 'In C' and 'Plus-Minus', this skill was absolutely paramount. Considering what sound one can add to the ensemble texture on their own instrument and to the direction of the work was a vital step for all twenty of us to engage in. As classically trained musicians, there are not many instances where we must draw from our knowledge in such a lucid way; however, these give us an opportunity to test our creativity and create chamber music in one of its purest forms.

- Chloe Sanger

Our Creative Process: Dots+Loops with Kieran Welch

How did Dots+Loops begin, and what were the initial steps that you took to make the series happen?

The Dots+Loops series began as a single concept concert in 2014, based on the idea "from the concert hall to the dance floor". Held in a converted warehouse space, the show started at the "concert hall" end of the spectrum, with Philip Glass' String Quartet No. 5, before moving into the area in-between. Brisbane indie-chamber septet Nonsemble (with whom I play viola) premiered a new major work by Chris Perren called "Go Seigen vs Fujisawa Kuranosuke". Finally, the night ended with a DJ set of electronica and techno conceptually flowing on from the rest of the concert, while the performers and audience members were encouraged to stay and mingle in the venue, with a bar open all night.

However, the concept for this first concert and the overall series have stemmed from a much longer artistic journey. Though a majority of my formal education has been in classical viola performance, I also started DJing in my early teens and quickly became interested in a broad range of electronic music. I spent years searching for a way to combine these two seemingly disparate worlds, and for me, this initial Dots+Loops concert was the first successful culmination of this.

In terms of actually putting on this first concert, I was really lucky to be working with a friend who was already putting on his own rock shows, Nonsemble composer and guitarist (and Dots+Loops team member) Chris Perren. He’d been working on the show’s headline piece, “Go Seigen vs Fujisawa Kuranosuke”, for a few months when I came up with the idea for the show, and thankfully he agreed that it sounded like a great way to premiere the work. Aside from the composition, Chris was also a huge help in organising and promoting. It wasn’t the first concert I’d organised, but it at the time was definitely the biggest, and having someone who’d been putting on rock shows for years who could help and give advice was invaluable.

Chris wasn’t the only person who contributed to making the show a success, though. All the performers were just good friends of mine, who believed in the concert idea, and generously gave their time and expertise to make it a reality. I think that’s been the most important theme throughout the Dots+Loops series—it’s all a bunch of friends putting on some fantastic music together, and sharing it with other music lovers, no matter what particular genre they (the performers or audience members) may normally be into.

Perhaps the biggest thing for me has been switching my thinking from an “I wish” to an “I will”, and having the determination to put ideas into practice. You’d be really surprised by how much you can achieve, and how many things just fall into place, if you just take that first step and put things into motion.

You wear several different hats while promoting and producing each concert - what have you learnt about event organisation and management since your first Dots+Loops performance?

The first thing I’ve learnt is to organise everything as far in advance as possible. The bigger the show becomes, or the steeper you anticipate the learning curve will be to make it happen, the earlier you need to start putting things into motion. I’m still very much learning this, to be honest.

Second is to roll with the punches. Every single show throws up its own unanticipated challenges and of course, one can’t foresee what they will be but you need to expect them. When I was organising the first couple of shows, it seemed like a catastrophe every time we had a last minute performer cancellation or a sudden venue change. But doing more of these concerts has helped me take this in my stride more and just work around it, and to me, it often ends up seeming that the change ends up with a positive effect on the end result. Organising in advance also gives you a lot more room to work around these challenges with less stress.

Thirdly, I've learnt to triple confirm everything with everyone involved. I think my job as a concert producer is to make it as easy and enjoyable as possible for the performers involved to do their job—performing. But everyone's busy and everyone forgets things, you really need to confirm schedules as soon as possible, put these in multiple places (we often use Facebook groups, email and Dropbox), and send reminder messages to everyone a day out or so from any rehearsals or events.

Leading on from this, I think it’s really important to acknowledge and be thankful for the contribution everyone makes to the show, whether it’s the performers, composers, audiences, financial supporters, or technical and venue staff. Whether or not you’re paying them (and especially if they're paying you), they’ve each chosen to be a part of the show, and it would be a lesser experience, or just not possible, without them.

I think the final thing I’ve learnt is there doesn’t seem to be an easy way to approach promotion. The best results we’ve had come from a lot of time writing individual emails and messages, making it easy for the performers involved in the show to promote using their own channels, and encouraging word-of-mouth. One of the best things about being so community-focused is that we now have a bunch of regular audiences and performers who are happy to chat to friends and family about coming to our shows.

You are a performer as well: how has that influenced the way you program each concert? How do you choose who to collaborate with?

I’ve performed in every concert I’ve put on so far, and more than once I’ve been a part of every act. A big (and slightly selfish) reason I started the shows was to give myself an opportunity to perform a bunch of fantastic music I was listening to and absolutely loving but had no other outlet to present. But I think being very passionate about every piece we put on helps everyone else involved become passionate about it too.

I also very much try and program the concert in the frame of an audience member, asking myself what I would like to do on a Friday night. For me, watching a couple of awesome live performances, while hanging out and chatting with friends, and perhaps partaking in a beverage or two, is pretty ideal. This is a big reason why we focus on making socialising easy and give people a break in between each act to chat, digest the music, and grab a drink from the bar if they want.

In terms of choosing people to collaborate with, I try to work with people who are at least open to trying things a different way, and experiencing different kinds of music. A lot of the performers we’ve featured may have never played in an amplified setting, or without a stage, or even seen a band or DJ set before. Vice versa, a lot of our audiences may have never been to a traditional classical concert. But I think what matters the most is a willingness to try something new. Then it’s my job to make that experience as easy and rewarding as possible.

Can you tell me a bit about the commissions you've worked on already for Dots+Loops, and how you approach commissioning overall?

Every single commission has been by a good friend, who writes music I’m really excited about. Chris Perren has been a big one, two of his three major works for Nonsemble were kindly written for and premiered at Dots+Loops shows. Composer and performer Ben Heim is another friend who wrote a piece for viola and electronics we premiered last year. And this year, we’re also commissioning a work from a friend I met as a performer in the Bang on a Can Summer Festival, Brechtje. Trained in classical composition, she also plays in a super cool band called Jerboah and has this really quirky, unique and endearing musical language. I can’t wait to hear her piece in September.

In terms of directly commissioning a piece, it’s really important to ensure the composer will have as many benefits as possible, to make the time they’ve spent creating the piece worth it. There are heaps of grants available to fund new commissions, and it’s really important to look into and apply for those. But even if there isn’t a lot of money involved, make sure they have a list of definite benefits they’ll receive, such as a guaranteed performance to a certain amount of people, a good recording and promotional opportunities.

You're currently crowdfunding to help produce your 2017 season. What has your experience with fundraising been like so far, and what do you want people to know about where their money is going this year?

Fundraising is one of the hardest aspects for me. We’ve been quite lucky to receive grants for our last couple of shows. But I’m always mindful that, like an audition, we may have an unsuccessful application due to no fault of our own. Even if we follow the criteria and guidelines closely, we don’t know who else is applying, or what the panel will be specifically looking for.

Grant applications can be a bit of a catch-22, in that it really helps to show significant development in the show concept to be competitive, such as having confirmations from venues and artists. But by that point, the ball can already be rolling, whether you end up being successful with the applications or not. Furthermore, grant panels are very much looking for applicants who are able to source funds from a variety of sources—almost every grant will have a stipulation that they will only fund a certain percentage of a project.

Our Kickstarter is an absolutely vital part of putting on the amazing concerts we have planned for 2017. Even relatively large and successful arts groups don’t receive all the grants they apply for, and in the case that we’re unsuccessful with ours, the Kickstarter will give us the bare minimum we need to put on our April and May shows. During this time, we’ll be able to obtain advice from the funding bodies to ensure we can successfully resubmit in good time for our September mini-festival. And on the chance we are successful with all our first-round grant applications, the Kickstarter will go directly to paying artists involved for rehearsals and travel they are currently taking in-kind, in support of the series. Either way, it's an absolutely vital aspect to us creating this year of fantastic music, and all money raised will go directly to the artists involved. Plus there’s a bunch of exclusive rewards you can pick up, whether or not you’re able to make it to our shows!

My Rehearsal Room: Kit Millais

I have always been a very creative person who has wanted to entertain. I like to wear wild shirts, come up with bizarre birthday gifts, and enjoy listening to theatrical and comedic music (P.D.Q. Bach’s 1712 Overture is a particular favourite!).

It is very rewarding to now be acting on these creative instincts through a bigger project. Recently I have been working on a multitrack music video recording project. That’s a lot of words and it takes some time to piece together. So, as all great projects do, this one started with a friend and a beer.

Late last year I was talking with my friend Ethan McAlister about what we were going to work on over summer after our Bachelor of Music degrees were complete. Ethan talked about composition projects he was working on and how he was going to study at ANU and wanted to expand his recording portfolio. He suggested that I record the Trombone Quartet he had written for me at the start of 2016.

This interested me. I remember asking him to write the piece after hearing the performance of his String Quartet at a Melbourne Conservatorium Composers Concert. From this point onwards, we spent a couple of months workshopping the piece and listening to other pieces of music for inspiration and writing guidelines.

This was such an invaluable process allowing myself and Ethan to discuss and make the piece the best it could be, whilst still being physically possible for trombones. After all, a trombone is quite different to a violin.

After producing the piece, I brought it along to the trombone quartet I was in, The 5th Position Quartet. It interested the other players and so we began working on it. While the music was written in a minimalistic style and the parts were fairly straight forward, the piece built to a huge peak which made playing it a very intense experience.

We floated the idea as a group to record the piece and have it as a recording for both our own and Ethan’s portfolios. However, the piece got put to the side as we all became busier. Then I decided to undertake recording all four parts of the trombone quartet myself.

This would be quite an undertaking on its own. I would need to be competent in playing alto, tenor and bass trombone across the four parts. In addition to this, I would need to make sure I was perfectly in time and in tune with myself to produce the full effect of the piece.

Deciding that producing an audio recording of the work alone would not be enough work, Ethan and I talked about making a music video. We had both previously shared a lot of animated or live music videos for music such as Steven Wilson’s Routine. We both had met Mary, a filmmaker, at a friend’s party in the past and thought she would be interested in the project.

So I began the process of discussing the project with Mary who was keen to be a part of it. I also contacted Tom D’Ath, a friend I knew through the Conservatorium who had started doing a lot of recording work as an audio engineer. I asked him if he would be interested and he was happy to be involved.

From this stage, Tom, Mary and I discussed details of how we would shoot the film and the audio, how the piece would be broken up, when and where we should record, what we should bring as recording session snacks, and what I should wear.

As we took notes and started planning the events to come, I began the process of learning the piece. I then started to record the parts and put them together myself on Garage Band. It was so satisfying to see all the parts start slotting into place.

We have now completed three recording sessions, each about 3 hours long. I have recorded dozens of takes amounting to hours of music and I am very excited to see it coming together, even if we did have to start a recording session at 7 in the morning.

I hope to have Ethan’s piece ‘Admittance of Failure’ edited and mixed together by the start of April and look forward to working with him, Tom and Mary again on future projects.

I have had big ideas like this before and not acted on them, but having started this one I am looking forward to producing more and more. Planning projects you want to do and getting them done is a superb feeling. If you have creative ideas just start working on them, take some notes, talk to other creative people, research things and just do it, because the whole idea of art is to create.

St Georges' Concert Series: Corey Snoek

Author's Note: The main image depicts the Strikers' library at Barcaldine during the 1891 Shearers' Strike. Shearers were instrumental in spreading Australian traditional music across the country: in many country towns, often music was played and danced to in the wool sheds. John Oxley Library, State Library of Queensland, 1891.

Many styles of traditional music have been almost swept away by the tide of history, and Australian traditional dance music is no exception. Unfortunately the style never really had the revival it deserved. Various factors from cultural cringe to the dominance of other styles (specifically Irish) meant that the music has become largely hidden in the archives of the National Library for decades. With some notable exceptions, there are few groups focused on the renewal and revival of the style. Even then the aural traditions associated with it have largely disappeared.

What is Australian traditional dance music?

Australian traditional dance music is steeped in the social history of the nineteenth century and the Industrial Revolution. In this period, the movement of people and culture was faster than ever before. This gave rise to various “dance crazes” that would come and go, sweeping throughout the world from Britain, Ireland, and Scotland, to America, Latin America, and even some parts of Africa. Many of these new dances originated in Continental Europe, or just east of there. The Waltz from Germany is a prime example, as is the Schottische also from Germany, the Mazurka from Poland, the Varsovienna from the ballrooms of Paris, or the Polka, apparently born in the revolutionary circles of Bohemia.

In this period of history, when transportation of people and ideas was more widespread than ever, cultural mingling flourished. New dance tunes and steps travelled everywhere, but more often than not these crazes came and went. Sooner or later people would refer back to their older traditions in dance and dance music.

An example of this is to be found in Ireland, where many continental European tunes arrived and were taken up. In most parts of the country these tunes and dances are no longer a strong part of the style, with players instead choosing the older Irish dances (jigs, reels, etc.) in their place. Apart from isolated pockets that retain these nineteenth-century tunes (notably the Mazurka remaining an important dance tune in Donegal and the Polka remaining popular in Sliabh Luachra), the music and dances of this era largely faded from public attention. This was a common enough trend worldwide.

In Australia it was a different story. Migration was often so mixed and made up of many formally urban-living migrants that it was much harder to retain the older tunes and traditions from one's homeland. Instead, people enthusiastically took up the modern music of this era.

What we have been left with as a dance music tradition is not a style based so much on the older Irish, Scottish or English traditions entering the country, but instead the modern styles of music that were sweeping through those lands as much as anywhere else in the western world.

So in other places, these nineteenth-century tunes often died off as people would hark back to older traditions. In Australia, they thrived and survived for a long time.

Why don’t we hear it anymore?

Unfortunately a serious revival never hit the country as it did in other parts of the world. When radio hit Australia, there was a tendency for radio stations to refuse to record and air older local tunes - in contrast and as an example, radio stations in America often wholeheartedly took up recording local artists, leaving a mass of archival recordings. Furthermore, the Bush Bands of the 70s may have led a fashionable song movement for the time, but only a handful of them actually paid any attention to the type of dance music historically played in Australia, choosing instead a largely Irish-based repertoire.

Finally, the older generation of musicians were few and far between by the time people went out to record them in the field or attempted to start revivals of the music. Consequently, many of the revival attempts have lacked a direct link to this older generation.

That being said, it is important that the music is revived, not for the sake of nationalism or any type of national identity. More to the point there is something very individual to the sound of Australian traditional dance music.

One point already made is the attention Australia gave to nineteenth-century dances and their respective tunes, as opposed to other parts of the world where these tunes simply died off. This was obviously due in a large part to the mix of cultures that took place in the colonisation of Australia. A style of dance music that emerged from such a back and forth between different peoples is an interesting concept in and of itself.

Another is that the growth of button accordions at the time managed to crush many of the minor tunes that were moving through the country. Consequently, if one wanted to play a sad or melancholy tune they would be more often than not limited to major keys. This led to a certain pathos in the style of many of the tunes.

Finally, we are yet to hear many good recordings that represent an honest take on the music that would have been played 100 years ago in Australia. In interviews scattered throughout library archives, older musicians give endless descriptions of dance bands containing a number of accordions, concertinas, whistles and fiddles. Unfortunately, by the time people went out collecting tunes, almost all of these bands had completely disappeared.

Can it be rebuilt?

At this moment in time, folk and traditional music are experiencing renewed interest. Cajun bands, Bluegrass and American Old Time, “Celtic” fiddle and various ballad singing duos are scattered across Melbourne and Australia. In many ways it is a prime time for a revival of Australian traditional music; however, there are still substantial barriers in the way.

For one, many young people still feel a certain cultural cringe against Australia’s traditional music. This hasn’t been helped by the fact that various nationalist artists built a wall of embarrassing and objectively bad music for young people to cringe at (think Rolf Harris and associates). This is a problem many traditions have faced, if you are making music for the sake of nationalism it hardly has to be good, just nationalistic.

Competing traditions of American country and Irish fiddle music have also muddied the waters to the point that many young people simply don’t believe Australia had its own style. Young people here have taken up these traditions and made their own interpretations, and for good reason: there is good music to be found there. People should hardly have to drop their love of other music from around the world; a revival of Australian traditional music should not have to cut across this.

Where the hell are all the old players?

The strength of other foreign traditional styles now popular in Australia lies in them having some form of direct connection to the original context inherent in whichever music. You can find recordings of Tommy Jarrell, James Scott Skinner or Michael Coleman more easily now than ever before through the internet.

A link to these older players who were instrumental in the development of their respective styles is one of the best tools a new player can come across. Australian fiddle music, though, is completely void of this link for most people.

There are some historic barriers that explain this. It is a fairly young style and had a fraction of the time to develop that American, Irish or Scottish dance music did. The cultural cringe as explained before led to a number of problems in the acceptance of the style. More importantly however, by the time collectors ventured out to take field recordings of the old players, most of them were dead or had not played for decades. Of the ones they found, virtually all of them were long past their prime, some of the most choice players being on their way to deaf or post strokes or arthritic.

There are no players recorded that come close to the quality of playing and social impact of Jarrell, Skinner, or Coleman. Instead there are countless recordings of old players explaining that the best traditional musician they had ever heard had died half a century prior to the collectors making tapes.

The framework for what these older quality players may have sounded like is hidden throughout field recordings. If a revival of Australian traditional music is to happen it must be based on these. Players interested in the music need to search through archives to find a colloquial style.

This form of aural learning is the only way an honest interpretation of traditional music can take place. The alternative is that people learn primarily through sheet music and fall back on pre-learned styles. This would lead to people playing Australian dance music in either a classical modern way, or interpreting the tunes in an Irish/American/etc. style. Simply put, this would sound horrible - imagine hearing someone play through an entire book of American tunes while playing them in an Irish style. A few tunes here or there may work well but all in all the music would sound dishonest, in comparison to an American player ripping through the same book.

Today the main barriers people face stem from this: there is little opportunity for people to learn the style aurally through field recordings and other direct sources. Even if you are keen to learn Australian traditional music from direct sources, there is little online.

The vast majority of recordings are stored in the National Library archives in Canberra with a fraction digitalised and available on the internet. If you want a recording digitalised and sent to you, often it will come to a cost of around $15 or $20 for a two-hour recording. There are literally thousands upon thousands of field recordings in the library, meaning it is simply not affordable to access the necessary amount of recordings to flesh out one’s playing.

Even then, the recordings are almost always delivered in blocks of 30 minutes to an hour or more per track; finding individual tunes in these blocks of recordings can be a nightmare. There are people working to rectify this, but I would assume cut backs and a lack of funding are butchering the process. Compare this to the website slippery-hill.com, where aspiring American fiddle players can hear enough field recordings to last a lifetime, and you will understand the depth of the problem.

How can we rebuild and revive the style?

Fixing the lack of primary sources and readily available field recordings will require an army of people digging through archives, sharing footage and recordings amongst themselves. Leading up to this though, good quality recordings from players who are able to honestly reproduce Australian traditional music need to be made to inspire a new generation.

This can come alongside jam sessions in schools, homes or pubs, where aural learning is the order of the day. Finally, linking this music to dance events would give a new generation of players a level of context to the tunes they are learning.

There is a sound there, sometimes hidden deep, sometimes screaming at you to take note. The players are rough and their playing is hardly polished but there is a music, steeped in social history, that is completely its own.

Look up Colin Charlton’s reel, try to get your hands on Walley Febey’s mazurka, or Ernie Goodman’s waltz. Try to find and hear the mix of beautiful old Tasmanian tunes of the Dawson family, or Eileen McCoy (her playing brilliantly mixing with the sound of the 50s and 60s country music and touring show groups), the almost Cajun-type wail coming from Stan Treacy’s fiddle, and the strength of his playing. Check out Frank Collins’ 78s, a third-generation Australian player with a wealth of Scottish tunes and perfect bowing; and The Brown Boys, an aboriginal family from Cape Barren island whose repertoire was partly built from passing New England whalers. Find recordings of Tom Walsh, a farmer from Trentham (an hour north of Melbourne), whose family has continued the music down the ages, even until now.

Find old players with music you’ve never heard before, listen, learn and accept them and their playing in all its arthritic passion. More importantly, if what you hear strikes a chord, search for that lost sound they’ve all been reaching for.

My Rehearsal Room: Lauren Sibree

People always told me that my voice was ‘special’, that I was talented, and that I was not to waste my blessings. So, when deciding upon university courses, it was extremely hard to deny the romantic appeal of studying my ‘passion’, and the opportunity to cultivate the ‘natural gift’ of my classical singing voice.

Yet, here I am, two years down the track, with only one year of my Bachelor of Music to go, and I have come to the simultaneously destabilising and relieving conclusion that I do not want to be a singer. This understanding was not prompted by any failings on my part; in fact by most standards, I have excelled and achieved as a classical singer. The decision to divert my career-gaze elsewhere was derived from my realisation that a career in classical singing does not:

totally fulfil and motivate me
reflect the nature of employment that would suit my personality (namely, it is too unstable)
acknowledge many of my others interests and passions
It was not easy to reach this conclusion. The past two years have been some of the most confusing in my life (due in part to the tumultuous nature of adolescence in general) but also to the glaring fact that I felt like a fraud in my pursuit of classical music. The Melbourne Con is undoubtedly a breeding ground of exceptionally talented people who live and breathe classical music. As much I tried manipulate myself to fit this mould, I could not, and more importantly, I should not need to. The reality is that locking myself in a practice room for hours on end and striving anxiously for a perfect technique does not make me want to get out of bed in the morning, it does not give me a purpose in life, and it certainly does not set my spirit free.

But that's ok. As soon as I acknowledged that I did not want a career as a classical singer, I immediately felt a return to my self; I felt like I was being freed from the prison of an archetypal musician that I was not, and propelled towards the exciting world of the many others things I have the opportunity to be. Having reached this life-changing junction I feel inspired, rather than apprehensive, when I contemplate my career, as any young person should. And what’s more, I am now in the privileged position of being able to appreciate the vast array of skills my music degree has given me. In a somewhat CV-esque manner, let me identify a few of these that will stand me in excellent stead for any number of career paths I may choose to embark upon:

discipline (obviously);
creative thinking;
a deep understanding of the importance of mindset and how this affects your ability to problem-solve;
self-promotion and ambassadorship;
collaboration, including a finely tuned ability to listen, assess and adjust accordingly.
There is obviously a difference between the negativity associated with a bad day of practice and the frustration of feeling ‘stuck’ on a career path that isn’t right for you. Be discerning, and learn the difference. However, I urge you to consider the following three (positive) points if the thought of music performing/teaching for a career makes you feel anxious:

You still have so much time to change direction;
Your music degree is one of the most psychologically enriching and enhancing degrees you could have chosen for your undergraduate;
Melbourne University has wonderful career counselling services, including the work of Susan De Weger (coordinator of Ignite Lab) whose job is to advise musicians of their many career options (many of which have absolutely nothing to do with performing). Meeting with her made me genuinely enthused and excited about the diverse opportunities that exist within the music/arts sector for non-performing professionals.
I plan to lead a fulfilled life, buoyed by a motivating career. Such an ideal is completely achievable for anyone if you have the courage to admit what you truly want even in the face of what you thought you wanted, and strive tirelessly for it.

My Rehearsal Room: Nicole Ng

“I need to practise, but I really don’t want to practise!”

During the summer break, practising can be difficult to get back into after an intense period of studying music. If you’re feeling like practising, go for it. If not, but you figure that you should, here is some advice you can take on.

Don’t practise?

It’s as simple as that - though you might want to be cautious about it. It may be great to do other things that aren't music related, but it's easy to go overboard sometimes. So, I suggest putting a limit on your days off during summer break. If you’re having a day off, try to explore other parts of yourself that you’re interested in other than music, or try something new!

Here are a few non-music related suggestions to stimulate your creativity:

Redecorating your bedroom
Read a good, imaginative book
Go to a museum, or art gallery
DIY projects
Another non-music related activity you can do is improving your physical health! Doing moderate to vigorous exercise, around 30 to 60 minutes, is great! Plus, there’s a heap of benefits when keeping yourself fit. It’s very important as a musician to keep yourself physically and mentally healthy.

What do I do when I’m not practising, you ask? I swim, work out, explore the wilderness, go do something fun (such as rock climbing, high ropes, going to a trampoline park), something that makes me happy that I’m on a break!

Set a time limit when practising

If you have many things you need to do, it may seem like too much work over the summer. Maybe try and achieve small goals in your practise session. Set a time limit, let’s say five minutes on each task, and work on scales, for instance. Then, set five more minutes, and work on arpeggios, first inversion. There are so many things you can work on with just five minutes.

Practise in small passages

Decided on your pieces but struggling with taking on board the whole picture? Try breaking it down and going slow. Take baby steps. Start focusing on a section, or a phrase each time. A passage might be interesting enough for you to keep repeating it, or you could try another new passage.

Cut your piece into pieces!

This was a super cool idea that my friend thought of for practising new pieces. She cuts out all the phrases in her chosen piece that she is going to practise, puts them in a hat, draws a random passage from the hat, and practises it. When finishing practising the phrases, she sticks all of them back. Pretty cool idea. Although, I think it would be best to make an extra copy of your chosen piece you are planning to practise beforehand. Haha!

Get motivated and inspired to practise!

Go watch some anime that is music-related such as 'Shigatsu wa Kimi so no Uso' (Your Lie in April), and 'Nodame Cantabile'. Go hang some inspirational, motivational quotes on in your bedroom, or your practise space. Do something that makes you think, “Yeah! I’m going to practise now!”

Analysing your pieces

I reckon one of the most important things to do as a music student is analysis. Whenever I analyse my pieces, I look for harmonic structure, the type of structure the piece is in, what are the non-harmonic tones are involved, musical direction, and all sorts of things. I think that is the best way to keep yourself productive during the summer break. Plus, you get a chance to look at your score from a different perspective, and also look at what the composer is intending to evoke.

My Rehearsal Room: Isaac Shieh

Part Two: Retracing the Past, Reshaping the Future

As a child, I grew up listening to great orchestras like the Vienna Philharmonic and London Symphony play masterpieces on CDs my dad brought home, and I remember being so excited, experiencing unexplainable emotions and sensations. But quite frankly, I never imagined being a musician myself, nor did I know what a horn was. So when I first took music seriously as a career, I was both shocked and excited by the challenges that lay within such a self-fulfilling journey.

The professional world of music performance is often isolating and alienating to those not familiar with this unique field. Many people I have come across (for example, in the bowls club) often ask me whether I am going to “become a teacher” or “play in the orchestra”. But when I tell them I am pursuing a career in natural horn and performing as a chamber soloist, they seem both intrigued and distanced by this “unconventional” answer. Even a lot of my friends and colleagues are perplexed by such a unique pursuit of self-expression through music.

Glancing back to the 7-year-old me, I played the horn for two reasons: to wear the cool band uniform and to have fun. As I mature as a person and musician, I begin to realise that music offers the rare opportunity for expressing indescribable sensations and emotions. It is a universal way to reach and heal the hearts of unsuspecting listeners, from all ages and backgrounds.

So why the natural horn? I mean, isn’t it odd to attempt to find my own voice through something ancient and forgotten?

As a musician, I always strive for truth in the music – a way to express universal themes through expressive and lyrical phrases or poignant and tragic motifs. It is through the discovery of the deeper meanings behind music that I find ways to express and experience something otherworldly, something divine.

The natural horn in many ways is an instrument of self-discovery. There is no one definitive method of playing. Different people have different sized and shaped hands, and it is through these connecting series of individualised hand gestures that the melodic lines in music are formed. Through uncovering the “secrets” to such an “imperfect” instrument, I learnt and continue to learn more about myself not only as a musician but also as a person. It shifts the focus from the final outcome of performances to the process behind creating and recreating great art. If we focus so much on the final product of music, I think we lose sight of something very important and special: the power of imagination. In many ways, playing on natural horn encourages me to convey uncharted emotions from my caprice within the structure of the music. This shift of focus from the execution of notes to the creative process of music not only encourages active music-making but also promotes the preservation of invention and innovation in creative arts. By reconnecting with the past, I feel I am encouraged to construct something that is new and beautiful.

Yes, it is vulnerable to expose myself completely, expressing my deepest desires and emotions that often I keep closely to myself. But for me, it is far more important to connect with the listeners by opening up my world to them, allowing myself to be vulnerable in the moment of creating music. While I may be doing something completely different to what the previous owners of my horn did 200 years ago, I am still going through the same process of making music – the performer as a creative artist that encapsulates the essence of time through self-expression. I am still trying to search for a truth through my natural horn, yearning for beauty that lies ahead of time.

“Where is great art kept? Great art is kept in those who yearn for beauty.” – Fabian Russell

By opening myself up, I am providing listeners with a rare glimpse into this “mystical” profession. Classical music may still be alienating for some, but self-expression often opens up the most heavily guarded hearts and minds, in a moment of intense intimacy through raw emotions that rush past our bodies. In the end, my unconventional pursuit of self-expression through music will lead me to become a storyteller: a messenger of inexpressible emotions and sensations through fantasies from within.

My Rehearsal Room: Yunjia Liu

Painting with Music Notes: Stories of the three commissioned pieces for Yunjia Liu’s Graduation Recital

Yunjia Liu studies classical guitar at the University of Melbourne under Mx. Tonié Field. She will finish her Bachelor’s degree in December this year. Unlike her colleagues, Yunjia spent seven years studying Chinese medicine in China before she came to Melbourne to study music in 2013. Here she shares with us the stories behind three new pieces of music, commissioned for her upcoming graduation recital.

Music in China is not seen as a good career. It is much more secure to study something which can provide you with a stable income and a respectful social status, such as medicine. But I felt the passion and the calling of music stronger and stronger while I was in medicine school. I was always thinking about how to play a guitar piece better, how to compose a piece based on how I feel, and how to give a good show with my friends, rather than how to become a successful doctor.

I really enjoy absorbing music knowledge and immersing myself in the music world, and I feel like I’m improving every day. I have asked my talented composer friends to compose for my graduation recital and I have already received three pieces. Two of them are from You Yue in China, and one from Federico Favali in Italy. Each piece is like a painting with a unique story behind it.

1. Mayfly (蜉蝣) by You Yue

You Yue is an old friend in China. As a composer, his way of writing music is very interesting. He says that he usually has an image in his mind before he starts one piece, and then he tries to describe the image with music notes. I received the piece in late October last year, and I was fascinated by the peaceful and beautiful atmosphere in it. This is what You Yue says about the inspiration:

“The lifespan of many insects is very short. They come and go silently, as their body movements become slower and slower. In the end they may find an invisible spot, a piece of branch, a gap between the rocks, or a hole, and leave the world naturally and quietly. This piece of music is trying to express the indescribable “calmness” of mayflies’ lives. They don’t have to worry about finding the meaning of life, and they don’t have to cheat themselves or others, but just accept the nature and life itself, calmly, peacefully, and somehow a bit pitiful.”

2. Flourishing Age (盛世遗墨绘昔尘) by You Yue

The title of this piece is difficult to translate accurately from Chinese to English. The original title is very poetic, and it is about painting the flourishing age with vestigial ink and immemorial dusk. I received this piece in February this year, when You Yue asked if it would be good to have someChinese style in the graduation recital. I feel so appreciated and I can really feel magic in the piece – it brings me to the old time I have never been to. You Yue’s description is like this:

“Imagine one day after you wake up, you realise you have passed through time and gone back to the Tang Dynasty in China. You see all the prosperous streets and towns, the wine shops and teahouses, the poems on the wall – but there is nobody around you. Yes, you’ve come back to a flourishing age, but it is not exactly real because you cannot see anyone. So you wander in the surroundings, and feel the atmosphere by yourself.”

3. Transcendent Shines (超然.照耀) by Federico Favali

I met Federico in England, when I was on exchange studying at the University of Birmingham earlier this year. I directly asked him if he could write a piece for guitar when we met for the first time. He agreed very generously, and he said this piece was for free, but I needed to promise that I would perform this piece all over the world. He asked me if I could provide some stories as the inspiration, and I told him my music journey. Then he decided to write a piece based on the Chinese characters of my name. I was so surprised that one can be that creative, and dedicate themselves so much in writing music! We are also discussing a photography plan and stage design, so hopefully this piece can be the starting point of an operetta for the near future.

It has been such an honour for me to receive special gifts like these pieces. The world of music is always full of fantasies, and we are painting a fascinating world together with music notes. I love the communication of souls, and I always believe that music has the power of going through time and space, and thus, can be immortal.

Our Creative Process: Blanke Knochen Opera by Hannah Spracklan-Holl

What is your own relationship to opera? How did you become interested in the genre?

Kate Millet: My gateway into opera came through Gilbert and Sullivan. My grandparents were avid fans of the operettas and took me and my sister to every performance they could. Then my mother started taking lessons and got a few operatic roles and I was hooked. I performed in a few children’s choruses and started lessons myself as a teenager. Unfortunately, I walked away during my university years, started focusing on theatre and it's only in the last few years that I’ve come back to opera, again through Gilbert and Sullivan.

James Penn: I started out in the music tradition of the high Anglican Church. I discovered opera outside my family's influence, through taking private singing lessons and exploring different genres of music. It was actually a production of Carmen, starring Jose Carreras, that helped my mother to understand why opera had such a hold over my life.

I did my bachelor of music performance at VCA and a graduate diploma of opera at WAAPA. I've had an up and down relationship with opera. It's so hard to find the right teacher for your voice and learning style. I was lucky a few years ago to stumble across Christopher Bogg through the fierce recommendations of some friends and through him I've found Margaret Haggart, who has transformed how I think about my voice and it's capabilities. So, the journey has been emotional but worth it.

You have said that you are inspired by black box theatre. What is black box theatre and how can its principles translate to opera, which is usually an overtly extravagant art form?

KM: Black box theatre is the principle of taking a blank space, adding minimal lighting and props and just using the text and the actors to convey the meaning. I think it’s an underestimated form in opera right now. Opera can convey so much more meaning than traditional theatre through the added element of music which is designed to target our emotional core. Plus, it refocuses the production on the vocal quality and their connection with the audience.

Don’t get me wrong, I love grand operas - the spectacle, the grandeur; but I definitely think the more understated forms have a place at the table too. It especially works well for smaller companies with smaller resources. Rather than spending their limited budgets trying to replicate larger companies, the black box style gives them the opportunity to do something different and separate themselves. We live in a country with hundreds of amateur musical theatre companies, thousands of amateur dramatic societies and just a handful of amateur operatic companies. There is a gap between training and the professional arena - smaller companies with limited budgets, performing in a black box style, could fill this gap. You look overseas and there are those smaller companies trying new and different things with opera and that’s where a whole new generation of opera directors and producers are getting their start and where new interpretations get tested.

There are also added benefits of expanding the number of venues open to use. Since black box theatre doesn’t require fancy lighting grids or set requirements, these productions can be toured easily, increasing the audience who gets to experience the show. There are so many rural and regional areas who are denied opera simply because they lack the necessary infrastructure. Black box theatre only needs a room.

JP: It's not something I'm terribly familiar with - Kate introduced the idea to me, however, many companies perform operas in concert form and that strips back the grand scale of it all. Also, to me, black box, in a way, continues the tradition of chamber opera. Early opera didn’t have much ‘stuff’, but we still perform it today.

Considering the current epidemic of violence against women in our culture, why did you choose Carmen, the title character of which is often subject to exotified and sexually reductive portrayals, as your debut production?

KM: I chose it for several reasons. Firstly, I love it. The music, the characters… it’s one of my favourites. I also chose it because when I first started to study the story properly, I couldn’t understand how anyone could interpret Carmen as a femme fatale, or the villain of the piece, or how anyone could interpret Don Jose as some innocent who gets pulled into this other evil world. I started to read the words and the script and I saw characters that reflected stories I see in the news every week, when another woman falls victim to domestic violence or is murdered by an intimate partner. Studies show that the time when a woman leaves an abusive relationship is the most dangerous. I've read so many interpretations excusing Don Jose’s behaviour but at the end of the day, he is an adult who makes the choice to end her life. I feel very passionate about this. Any attempt to justify his actions as a lovesick man driven over the edge is powered by sexism pure and simple. Carmen makes it very clear from her introduction that she is not looking for love. She literally tells them all that she will only love someone who doesn’t love her back. I read the text and saw a man who thought he was entitled to whatever he wanted. He ignores her wishes, is openly violent to her on a number of occasions, and then murders her when she finally rejects him.

JP: I'm not entirely sure I agree with the premise of that question, actually. I feel Carmen has been reduced to that stereotype in the past, but I don't think that's all she is. I put forward Carmen because I like it, pure and simple. I think there are certain ways that the music and language meet up very well, for example, the almost homonyms - "la mort" and "l'amour" - showing the dichotomy between love and death. The subtle and not so subtle Spanish influences in the music, if sometimes cheesy, are signs of a very intelligent composer.

What has been the process of reinterpreting Carmen from a feminist perspective?

KM: Honestly, the words are all there. I have made sure to not change a single one. It’s more just exploring the motivations of the characters, exploring the interpretations of the words, giving Carmen back her dignity. She doesn’t mock Don Jose at the end of Act 3… it becomes an act of desperation to get an abusive partner out of her life. It's about looking at her motivations, not just his, looking at the power differences between Carmen and Don José, and working out a way to get the audience to identify with her. The default in these productions is for the audience to identify with José - providing justification for his actions. We're attempting to subvert that; to explain rather than justify his actions as well as provide depth and complexity to Carmen. I see her as an independent character who manipulates a man to get out of jail. She's not a perfect person, but then, none of us are. At the end of the day, however, Don José makes the choice to set her free, the choice to desert his post, the choice to murder her. He is an adult who needed to take responsibility for his actions.

JP: It's definitely taking the politeness out of people's singing. English speakers usually (particularly if they have had elocution lessons) speak in a backwards manner that sounds politer than that needed to sing opera. There is still this cultural expectation for women in particular to sound pretty. I've made a concerted effort to get my Carmen to be bolder and more assertive.

Audiences bring certain expectations to a performance of opera. In both its reimagining of Carmen and its choice of venue, Blanke Knochen Opera is going against the norm. How can you encourage audiences to abandon their expectations and view your production with fresh eyes?

KM: I think it’s important for an audience to seek out new interpretations of stories they’ve seen multiple times. I actually think it's necessary for opera to survive in a world increasingly aware of bigotry. It's hard to reconcile certain operas with modern politics - there are more than a few with problematic morals and themes. So I think if opera doesn't want to be seen as a relic of an unjust past, with no other viewpoint than that of the white European male, it needs to be open to the idea of new interpretations.

JP: I'm something of an opera snob myself. I prefer traditional interpretations. And yet I don't believe opera in this style should ever be done politely, or any opera for that matter. In all honesty, opera's roots lie in folk music. By tearing away the built up glamour, we expose the heart of it, which I think is the point of this style of opera. If you go elsewhere, you might not see the meaning at the centre of the opera. It's only when you strip all the stuff away that it is truly visible.

Young DJs and electronic musicians will be performing in the intermission of Carmen. Do you see potential for further interactions between opera and electronic dance music cultures in the future of BK Opera?

KM: Oh definitely. I think opera has the ability to be interact with all musical cultures.

JP: I honestly love electronica, in particular James Blake and Viktor Taiwo, so I wasn't really opposed to the idea of a sort of collaboration. I cannot see a reason why further and deeper interactions between these art forms shouldn't be on the horizon. I’m only partly joking when I ask- Freddie Mercury and Montserrat Caballé made an album together, so why not this kind of collaboration?

How is BK Opera supporting the development of emerging operatic talent?

KM: Our entire cast is made up of emerging singers. We love the openness and eagerness they bring to new ideas!

JP: First of all, so many people sing French like it's Italian, which just doesn't sound good. I believe I have skills that help emerging singers get a grasp on the difficult French pronunciation. The fact that our performing of Carmen in French is a point of difference is plain confusing to me. Most of my singers asked me ‘are you singing it in French?’ and when I answered yes they were shocked. In the small space, our singers really have to work hard on their acting and movement skills because they cannot get away with anything with the audience right there.

Can you tell us about any future plans for BK Opera?

KM: We have a number of ideas in the pipeline, both small and very large, but as 2017 is not yet set in stone, let's just say "watch this space".

JP: Yes, watch this space. We’ve both got HUGE imaginations, so watch out!

Macedon Music Spotlight: May Lyon

Tell us about the piece you have written for the upcoming Glen Johnston Composition Award.

Neheh explores five deities in the ancient Egyptian mythology, attempting to express their associated celestial bodies, elements, and/or roles in Egyptian cosmogony. Amun-Ra: Sun – The Creator; Khonsu: Moon – The Marker of Time; Sekhmet: Goddess of War – Desert Fire / The Lioness; Shu: God of Air; and Osiris: God of the Underworld – Death, Immortality & Resurrection. Although there is no exact translation, “neheh” loosely represents Amun-Ra’s continuous travel through the sky and the underworld.

When did you start composing? What or who were your early compositional interests and influences?

I didn’t start formal composition until I was 29 while in my second year at The University of Melbourne. However, when I was in school I wrote a few small arrangements and short choral and piano pieces, just for fun. I can distinctly remember that my favourite music while I was in the Australian Children’s Choir was Britten and Kodaly, but least of all was Rutter! As I got older I started listening to alternative pop music that was influenced by the minimalist composers, as well as bands that utilized rhythmic complexity, such as Tool. Outside of music I have always been fascinated with mathematics, patterns, and the natural world.

What do you think is the relationship between improvisation and composition, and how do these two things interact (or not!) in your compositional practice?

For the first part of this answer I will have to quote Dr Elliott Gyger, who recently described the relationship as “dancing within constraints”. I have not come across a more apt and succinct description and I certainly couldn’t put it better. For me, composition is about creating constraints, such as a pitch set or rhythmic pattern, and then elaborating and developing within that. I will occasionally start with short gestures that I have improvised at the piano, but I will restrict them in some way so as not to have too much material. The only area where I will improvise in the more ‘traditional’ sense is solo vocal work.

At a time when musical styles have almost undefined boundaries and ‘contemporary’ music means many different things, how do you assert your own compositional identity?

I try to compose music that challenges me and that I enjoy. In the end, that usually creates a Lyon ‘style’, although at times it is an eclectic one. I think a compositional identity can be as hard to pin down and as fluid over a lifetime as personal identity, so I would be hesitant to say what mine is at this early stage. I can only try to speak for where I am at the time of composition.

How does the ubiquity of technology in many aspects of life impact your compositional practice?

Technology can be a blessing and a curse. Being able to email a PDF draft or finished score is an amazing advantage, especially when dealing with overseas performers or working to a tight deadline. However, the down side is its intrusion into everyday life. I definitely have to turn off my phone and email when working, as creativity and being ‘on call’ do not work well together. I take a lot of pleasure in composing and editing with pencil and paper, and thankfully no one has invented paper that has pop-up notifications, yet.

What music are you listening to at the moment?

As I’m currently writing my first concerto I’m listening to a lot of (mainly) string concertos. Not surprisingly Britten’s Violin Concerto is a favourite. I also listen to new music podcasts, ABC Classic, plus I radio hop in the car. For grounding there is always some Bach, Joni Mitchell, and Ben Folds close at hand.

Macedon Music Spotlight: Harry Sdraulig

Tell us about the piece you have written for the upcoming Glen Johnston Composition Award.

Firstly, it was a real thrill to be given the opportunity by Macedon Music to write for Syzygy. They are one of Australia’s very finest ensembles, and their concerts are always electric and full of exciting new music. And I guess recognising this opportunity was a great starting point for me! In writing the piece, I was very eager to give them something challenging to get their teeth into, but still worth the effort!

The resulting piece is called Prisms, for flute, violin and piano. As suggested by the title, much of the work focuses on the concept of musical colour. The ways in which the work’s musical objects (for example – melodies, chords or textures) are developed, dissected and transformed could be considered analogous to how a prism separates and transforms a spectrum of colours.

It’s in four movements, but they're all linked together like a large panorama. It starts with an intimate, gentle duet for piccolo and violin. Then comes the flickering Dance, where the piano joins in and everything happens at a frenetic pace. Then the third movement: a lyrical, more emotional Nocturne with a strong climax in the middle. This leads without a break into the finale - an intensely rhythmical Toccata, but with references to music from the opening three movements to give the overall work a sense of cohesion and round it off.

When did you start composing? What or who were your early compositional interests and influences?

I started composing at the age of eight, when I began learning the piano. That might sound impressive, but in all honesty these early ‘works’ were extremely derivative and rudimentary – not something I’d want to show anyone! But nevertheless the flame was lit, and I quickly became obsessed with writing music. I’ve never stopped since!

My first pieces were heavily influenced by the music I was learning on the piano, and then the trumpet. Basically, the classics – Bach, Beethoven, Haydn, Handel and so on. In my high school years, I played trumpet in many wind bands and orchestras through the Melbourne Youth Music program. This was eye-opening for me, and a wonderful education for a budding composer. Not only did I learn to play some of my favourite music – Beethoven, Mahler and Stravinsky, for example – but I also learnt a great deal about orchestration, and how the different sections of the orchestra blended and interacted musically. I was also born into a musical household – my brother Charlie is also a dedicated composer and pianist, my elder sister Nonni once played the violin and my younger sister Eliza is a busy cellist. There’s no doubt their music has influenced me in one way or another.

What do you think is the relationship between improvisation and composition, and how do these two things interact (or not!) in your compositional practice?

Improvisation is a highly specialised art which takes many years of experience to cultivate to a high level. I would argue that my compositional approach is in some ways a very slow form of improvisation, but without an instrument. Much of what I do is intuitive, and feels like a kind of improvisation. But I sense that there is a real danger in this – for the inexperienced improviser, the first idea that comes to mind will often be the most obvious one. Sometimes extra thinking time, or even procrastination, can allow you to stumble across a deeper or more interesting idea. So it’s a very delicate balance!

At a time when musical styles have almost undefined boundaries and ‘contemporary’ music means many different things, how do you assert your own compositional identity?

It’s difficult. Back in the 1960s, many composition students were taught that there is only one true and correct way of composing. Methods of teaching were often highly dogmatic. In many ways this was a bad thing, but there was a silver lining, as it gave young composers something to go with, or something to react against. By being forced to do something, you quickly form a view or feeling of whether you enjoy it or not. This can help you find your own voice. Today however, anything goes. I still feel that composition students are given too much freedom, too early. Yes, you want to foster creativity and imagination, but successful composition usually requires intensive technical training and practice, as much as learning a musical instrument. Once you know the rules, you can break the rules!

In terms of my own music, I like to think I’m filling a small gap in the contemporary Australian music scene. Whether I do it well or not is for others to judge. But I feel that there is a certain polarity in contemporary Australian music. On one side, there is a movement of highly experimental and exploratory music, a European-inspired movement. And on the other side there’s a kind of postmodern or post-minimalist music, usually tonal and sometimes containing references to popular music. I feel that my music sits somewhere in the middle. It’s a mixture of the old and the new. Undoubtedly I take a lot from the Western classical tradition, but I like to think that I have something to say with my own voice and individual harmonic language.

How does the ubiquity of technology in many aspects of life impact your compositional practice?

It assists me, without a doubt. Using a computer and MIDI keyboard makes the process of getting ideas down so much quicker. MIDI playback is handy for one reason: it allows you to listen to the proportions of your work in real time, so you can decide whether the structure or flow of your work is successful. I’m sceptical that MIDI is of much use otherwise. It certainly shouldn’t be used to assist with orchestration or balance – the imagination is much more reliable!

My compositional philosophy involves writing music for acoustic performers. You get a human vulnerability, unpredictability and expression in performance that I’m yet to find in technological elements like electronics. It’s just not something I’m really interested in doing myself. But there are a number of amazing electronic and non-acoustic specialists utilising technology in incredible ways. I’ll leave it to the experts!

What music are you listening to at the moment?

My listening habits are a little unusual – I like to pick a composer, and then spend weeks or months absorbing all their music! My current obsession is Karol Szymanowski. There is a jaw-dropping palette of mysticism, colour and romance in his music that I find irresistible.

Macedon Music Spotlight: Lisa Cheney

Tell us about the piece you have written for the upcoming Glen Johnston Composition Award.

Hold Me Not Back is a work for flute/alto flute, cello and piano in four short movements. The title references a line in a poem by Derek Bourne-Jones titled No Distant Place, whereby the poet declares his sentimental last wishes for his loved one. I found it a fruit of inspiration in the past, having written a work in response to this poem in 2015 for Plexus which took a quasi-romantic approach. What really excites me now is that my reading of the poem has completely changed to the extent that I can’t really stomach some of the language used in the poem anymore! It still feels strange to say this, but it’s lost the feeling of sincerity for me now. I must be getting more cynical as time goes by! I even decided to use a little bit of the part that frustrates me and uses language that now seems shallow, narrow and self-pitying, in the first movement. It’s a textural and gestural based work, and I’ve tried few new things for me, so I’m excited to see how it works! It is super thrilling to get to explore this new approach to reading a poem (that I once loved) in musical terms, with the help of the amazing Syzygy ensemble.

When did you start composing? What or who were your early compositional interests and influences?

The earliest music I can remember writing was probably a pop song at age 9 or 10. From there I was really lucky to go to high school that had a wonderful teacher who implemented a school composers’ competition. It was there, probably between 15-17 years that I really got the tools, the space to play my work and the encouragement from real composers I needed to even consider composing as a career. As for music that influenced me in the early years, I was raised in the classical AMEB piano system and remember loving all of the romantics like Chopin and Ravel. Once I discovered impressionism I wouldn’t put down Satie or Debussy – I still have a CD of Satie’s Gymnopedies that I’m fairly certain I played as I fell asleep every night for two years. However, the one thing I would look forward to the most out all of my exam pieces would always by the ‘List D’ work, known for being the most contemporary piece in your program. I would live for anything by Norton, some jazz, a blues or something sneaking into a more creative world. They were my favourites without doubt! It’s funny how all these loves haven’t left me, rather having just broadened out further and further until I can now see the invisible thread connecting the music of Satie and Saariaho, from Per Norgard to Sigur Ros. I love so many different composers and their music – I would say I get a lot of joy out of diversity.

What do you think is the relationship between improvisation and composition, and how do these two things interact (or not!) in your compositional practice?

I see improvisation as a very important link and tool in composing. Every new piece begins in some form with an improvisation of ideas. I also love getting the chance to work closely with musicians, whilst giving them the space they need to leave their own musical footprint on a work. I learn so much from going in to a rehearsal room with a piece that’s only half finished and improvising on the existing ideas together – two heads are always better than one.

At a time when musical styles have almost undefined boundaries and ‘contemporary’ music means many different things, how do you assert your own compositional identity?

I honestly try not to think about this too much. I like to believe that if I keep heading down my path of growth and learning then the identity and voice will form over time. I might already have one, who knows! But the point is, even if I knew what that was, it might be different to someone else thinks it is and five years from now, different again. All you can do is to be true to yourself, aim to do more good than you do harm, support others, encourage yourself to grow and remind yourself of why you started down this crazy path in the first place – the music! The rest will come in time.

How does the ubiquity of technology in many aspects of life impact your compositional practice?

It’s fantastic for being so mobile with your work and for research and listening! However, I really find it’s starting to restrict my creativity if I’m composing straight in to the notation program (usually for lack of time). I have this bad habit of having wild and bold ideas that somehow get filtered down in to something not so exciting once I hit Sibelius and then being disappointed with the end result. For that reason, I’m making more of an effort to try to get as much down on paper as I can first.

What music are you listening to at the moment?

Oh lord, are you ready for my eclectic tastes? Ok, in no particular order and off the top of my head, right now I’m listening to:

Jose Gonzalez, Kaija Saariaho, Elliott Carter, Kate Soper, Beyoncé, Takemitsu and Kate Neal.

Macedon Music Spotlight: Andrew Aronowicz

Tell us about the piece you have written for the upcoming Glen Johnston Composition Award.

The title of my work, Gossamer, has multiple applications. It can refer both to spider silk, but also to the delicate quality of certain fabrics and materials. It refers also to 'gossamer wings', which are insects with shiny, translucent wings, not unlike dragonflies. I was attracted to the word for its multiple associations, and heard in it a variety of musical analogues: shimmering timbres, fragile ensemble textures, and erratic, fluttering melody. I thought that the combination of cello, alto flute and piano would be a perfect ensemble to capture these poetic and visual qualities.

When did you start composing? What or who were your early compositional interests and influences?

I began composing from around the age of 11 or so, by experimenting with piano pieces I was learning – changing the key, altering melodies, etc. Eventually I started putting together my own little pieces. I’d been learning the violin since age 5, but from around the time I started piano lessons in 4th grade, I became more fascinated by how music worked. My compositional influences while I was at school were always the great classical composers, and so before I got to Uni, I made a concerted effort to sound like ‘them’. Of course, my tastes, knowledge and influences have broadened considerably since then, but it’s always fun to revisit some of those early works – I still have some of the Sibelius files!

What do you think is the relationship between improvisation and composition, and how do these two things interact (or not!) in your compositional practice?

The general assumption about improvisation is that it involves inventing music on the spot, as if from a vacuum. It isn’t. Improvisation requires a heavy amount of practice and re-iteration, and also craft. Some artists don't even see a distinction between the two, and like to call improvisation “composing in real-time”. I’m not an improviser, in that I don’t perform. But I do engage with the spontaneity and freedom we often associate with improvisation – I just see this as part of my notated compositional process. Successful improv requires tapping into the right flow-state, and the same can be said for composing notated music. This is how we discover new paths and possibilities.

At a time when musical styles have almost undefined boundaries and ‘contemporary’ music means many different things, how do you assert your own compositional identity?

I’ve thought a lot about this, and I actually don’t think it’s a question of style or genre. Those things are categories, into which one’s music either fits, or it doesn’t, usually based on someone else’s opinion. Compositional identity shouldn’t be defined by which shelf in the CD shop your music will be found on, or which playlist on iTunes. We can, and perhaps should, be aware of others when we compose – our audience, the performers, etc. – but the nature of the artistic self is really a question for the self, alone. I’m aware that I build numerous walls myself, consciously and unconsciously, when I compose. In every work, I’m negotiating what the piece I’m writing is, and what it isn’t. And by extension, I suppose I’m doing the same with my compositional identity, or artistic self. It comes back to Michelangelo’s idea of carving away from a block of marble every part that ‘isn’t’ the statue of David. And as I’ve learnt recently, this can be very flexible, and can change numerous times over the course of one’s career. As long as it’s you who’s making those decisions, not someone else.

How does the ubiquity of technology in many aspects of life impact your compositional practice?

Technology is everywhere, and it scares me a little. I think I would have operated really well in a time when there wasn’t an expectation to reply to text messages straight away. In terms of music though, technology has made it instantly available, and I love this. It is such a privilege, and I’m so grateful I can listen to basically whatever I want, all the time. But there are consequences, and I think we need to remember the importance of silence and space in our listening lives. I’m very conscious of composing this space into my own music. I also love the directions that contemporary composition is taking with regards to technology, and I’ve made some efforts to get to know how it all works, and compose my own pieces with the aid of electronics. I have a long way to go, though.

What music are you listening to at the moment?

I’m a very eclectic listener, and usually it depends on what I’m doing. If I’m composing, usually I’m not consciously listening to anything. When I’m between pieces, I usually get hungry for all kinds of new and old music. Right now, thanks to an arranging project, and the fact I present a weekly Romantics-themed program on my local classical radio station, I’m listening to a combination of 19th Century French repertoire and James Bond songs.

My Rehearsal Room: Sam Colcheedas

Your experience with music is somewhat unique, in that that you are currently studying Mechanical Engineering with a concurrent Diploma of Music Performance. Tell us about what led to the decision to study both, particularly at the same time.

Growing up and discovering my passions of music and science/engineering as school progressed just seemed so natural for me. I’ve been brought up in a very supportive and flowing household where I was taught to embrace my passions and interests no matter what they were. I was so self-motivated to learn and practice piano that it just became incorporated into my study schedule, especially towards the end of my high school years.

I was tossing up pursuing music on its own, but also contemplating following my passion for maths, science and engineering and just studying that. I put my offers in for various universities; all of them were for engineering courses. I remember getting accepted into a Bachelor of Science at The University of Melbourne and being surprised – extremely happy…but mainly surprised. It wasn’t until the start of the new year that I did some research into concurrent diplomas at Melbourne University. With a week or less to prepare for my audition, I eventually got accepted and my life has remained the same; nothing much has changed. Just like my younger years of studying, I’d balance science and maths with my practice and rehearsals, same ol’, same ol’. Studying both simultaneously seemed like the natural thing for me to do. I’d still be practicing and performing regardless of me officially studying music at university.

What interests you in Mechanical Engineering? What do you get from music that you don't get from engineering, and vice versa? Are there any ways in which concepts or ideas from engineering have helped with your music, and vice versa?

I’ve been told countless times by my mother that as a toddler on the playground, I’d just be fascinated by things that move and how they work. Again, nothing much has changed, I’m still as ever curious, but it’s the concept of describing everyday life and ideas using maths that really appeals to me. This crosses over to music where I find that I'm lured to it due to the fact that we can describe and communicate emotion using a language of sound.

The languages of sound and maths are universal but also interchangeable. Having a mathematical and systematic brain, learning music and performing music come so naturally – the same as working out a numerical problem: you have to look behind what’s on the page to fully understand its purpose. Looking beyond the notes and stripping it all back to its bare skeleton reveals the core desires of the composer on how and why the music should be played and interpreted. It’s the act of accepting that there are notes there, there are numbers there but looking beyond that to understand the concept and reason for it all. There’s no point in playing the notes if you are ‘just’ playing the notes.

Studying at institutions like the Melbourne Conservatorium of Music and the University of Melbourne, what have been your biggest challenges so far? Your biggest accomplishments?

Studying in general is a challenge, but it’s a routine for me, it always has been. Coming to university hasn’t changed that, it’s just changed how I study and how much I study. The demands of diploma students aren’t as strenuous as the Bachelor, so we are given some lenience with the demand to practice and perform well. I can tell you that it’s still an unbelievable workload studying for three three-hour mechanics exams and also preparing for a solo performance recital. Having the luxury of four- to six-hour practice days is something I’m not blessed with, but it has made me practice a lot more efficiently. It means that in my hour break in between lectures, I go down to the music basement to work on my Chopin etudes or simply play for pleasure. It’s a great relief and distraction from the demands of engineering, and without it there would be an imbalance in my life.

I’ve achieved a lot of things while studying by going out of my comfort zone. My biggest achievement was probably also my biggest downfall of performing experiences. I went out on a limb to perform a work by Beethoven that I knew wasn’t performance ready, but I was itching to see how comfortable I was performing it. Turns out…I wasn’t comfortable at all. It certainly wasn’t my best performance. But it’s my biggest accomplishment because of how I grew from this seemingly devastating event. It showed me what I needed to work on, what I can do better next time, but most of all it showed me that I am human, and I am able to learn from my many many (many) mistakes.

You've spoken of your passion for environmental sustainability. How do you intend to incorporate this into what you do, in terms of your music and engineering interests?

Much like the stigmatism between classical music and the younger generation, there’s a similar amount of hesitation towards learning about the importance of environmental sustainability in relation to our future. I hope to bring my love of music and passion towards sustainability into full view by presenting concerts that highlight the importance of sustainability by using pieces of music that reflect particular aspects of the issues I'm interested in.

For instance, I am extremely passionate about wind energy, and using particular Debussy preludes which reflect the many colours and textures of the wind would be a great way to demonstrate the potential of this natural resource. Many of Rachmaninov’s etudes tableaux (picture etudes) depict the harnessing of energy and the potential that it supplies to life.

By using music to explain the various aspects of energy and how it can better aid us towards a more sustainable world, it’ll not only open the many windows of the mind to new concepts of sustainable energy, but to the world of music too.

You experience synaesthesia - a phenomenon where cross-wiring of the senses results in some curious involuntary responses. I'm a fellow synaesthete: my letters and numbers have specific associated colours (my A's are red). What's your experience like? Do you find this affects the way you learn music at all? Does it interfere with or enhance your learning?

My synaesthesia tends to affect very specific but important aspects of my music. On particular but not consistent days, Beethoven feels blue: quite a bit of a navy blue, the kind you get as you go deeper and deeper into the depths of the ocean. Quite like his music; it explores the depths of the unexplored. Mozart has quite a more chipper and buoyant red or mauve hue associated to him. Within pieces of music there are hundreds of different colours, but when you mix them all together, you’re left with a palette of a single colour that represents the piece.

What tends to affect me even more are shapes. I’m able to touch and feel the shapes of music with my senses. Sometimes a particular passage in a Bach prelude and fugue tastes jagged and square, whereas a Debussy prelude may seem as though I'm feeling this solid but yet fluid-looking shape with my hands. Feeling these shapes with my eyes is another ‘cross-wiring of the senses’ that I experience. Eyes wide open, I’m able to see and feel these shapes in my immediate and peripheral vision. This enables me to memorise music so much more easily. I’m blessed to have a good memory for music, but can’t for the life of me tell you the more specific details of what I had for lunch on a certain day.

These abilities that I have gained from having synaesthesia do come with some negative effects. I like to think of it as making me somewhat more hypersensitive to sounds and environments. Listening to dissonant, atonal and clashing sounds can bring about anxiety and discomfort, while at the same time just listening to perfectly harmless major timbres has similar results.

Wednesday will always be the colour yellow to me, and the number 6 will always be red. However, when it comes to music, since it is such a fluid and interpretive art, by no means will Beethoven always be blue and Mozart mauve. Music has a subconscious, and since I was young, I have learnt to combine my own subconscious, my own heart with it. In turn, you have these two palettes of colours, of sounds and of shapes, mixing together to form unpredictable combinations.

You're certainly building up a performance history, with a few concerts under your belt already and a sweet-as website (pianomansam.com.au). What do you see for your future musically speaking?

I currently teach and perform and would love to continue doing so into the future. Eventually studying for my Master of Music (Piano Teaching) is a long term goal after I’ve finished my current studies. I’m not sure how long it’ll take me to reach it, but I’m putting myself out there, and going out of my comfort zone and taking up so many great opportunities and experience.

There’s no point in leaving little room and flexibility in goal-setting. As long as you see the big picture, it’s not when you reach your goals that matters, but the learning experiences you’ve gone through to get there.

What’s next for you?

I’m currently in the process of organising and brainstorming a recital project for the start of 2017 that will focus around synaesthesia and how it relates to music. I’ll be collaborating with other artists and premiering newly written works specifically for the project. Watch this space!

My Rehearsal Room: Isaac Shieh

Part One: Finding My Own Sound in the Classical Realm

My parents taught me to always follow my heart and passion. As cliché as that sounds, I think it is often easy to forget to dream, whether that dream is big or small. After all, we, as artists, are dreamers of the World.

What does this have to do with me choosing the natural horn? Nothing.

I never really chose the horn to begin with. I simply wanted to wear the handsome band uniform in my primary school, and the music teacher gave me a horn. I didn’t even think about the natural horn until my teacher persuaded me to play it for my second-year recital at the Melbourne Conservatorium of Music.

So, as cheesy as this sounds, the natural horn chose me.

Horn is often regarded as the most difficult orchestral instrument. So why would I want to make my life harder by taking the valves out of horn and blow into an instrument that is as unpredictable as Melbourne’s weather?

Initially, I saw it as a challenge, playing difficult pieces on the natural horn by using only my lips and hand-stopping techniques. Without going into too many technical details, hand-stopping is a technique whereby the hornist can change an open partial pitch by inserting a cupped hand into the bell. As limiting as this sounds, the natural horn was used extensively until the 19th century, and many great composers wrote for this instrument. What strikes me even now is the beauty that lies within such an ‘imperfect’ instrument. Hand-stopping changes not only the pitch, but also the timbre. This enables me to create various tone colours, allowing me to express emotions a modern instrument arguably cannot.

For me, this new perspective of seeing and hearing music is exciting and satisfying, both intellectually and emotionally. It highlights the tension and release within the structure of the music that dramatises fantasies and dreams. Yes, it is extremely hard work; natural horn is a volatile instrument that many deemed inferior to the more stable and ‘advanced’ modern horn. There is also the additional challenge of meeting the expectations of audiences who are accustomed to listening to the ‘perfect’ playing of modern horn, in recordings and live performance. The natural horn is so difficult to play that even the great Mozart wrote to his friend Joseph Leutgeb (to whom Mozart dedicated his four horn concerti):

“Are you finishing? Thank heavens! – enough, enough!”

Luckily, I have yet to experience this. While the probability of the sounds of disappointment and regret coming out of my bell is high, when I do the instrument and the compositions justice, it is the most rewarding experience.

As musicians, it is important that we are open to new approaches and ideas, and take risks. If we train ourselves to be risk adverse, we are practicing to be reward challenged. I have a lot of friends who think that if they train themselves to be orchestral musicians or teachers, as competitive as those occupations are, they would have relatively stable lives ahead of them. I must admit it always feel good to have a sense of security and stability in life. But for me, I know I will never be satisfied with being a part of the mass. As much as I don’t want to blow my own horn, I want to find my own sound in the crowd. I want to share my own fantasies and dreams, through a unique perspective that is both passionately beautiful and poignantly tender.

As I mature as a professional musician, I learn more about the process of music making. As Sir Simon Rattle once remarked,

“You never eyeball a horn player. That’s one of the real rules. You just don’t. They’re stuntmen. You don’t eyeball stuntmen when they’re about the dice with death.”

The horn is difficult enough as an instrument, the natural horn more difficult still. You don’t want to work against it or force your way out; making your life harder isn’t going to work. Instead, I think it is often important to remember to work with the instrument I have. Without it, I am just a dreamer without a voice. Together, it is possible to create beautiful music that is beyond my imagination. In many ways, the horn is not a part of me. I am a part of the horn, a continuation of history from its previous owners and leaving a legacy for the future generations.

Our Creative Process: Ensemble Goldentree [Part III]

The Australian Festival of Chamber Music is over for another year and we have returned to chilly Melbourne after an inspiring and immersive week. After such an intense period it's surprising how quickly we've both readjusted to our busy routines of work, rehearsal and teaching. It is hard to believe that only last week we were enjoying tropical mid-twenty degree days and almost unlimited practice time! However, there has been some chance for reflection on take-aways from our time in Townsville.

We took a risk in deciding to take only duets for horn and soprano this year. It is challenging music to prepare and was unknown to everyone at the festival, including our coaches. It tested our patience regularly and we were unsure how an audience would respond to something so unfamiliar. As it turned out, the risk paid off. Not only did we learn a lot from challenging ourselves and being challenged by our coaches, but the audience at the Winterschool concert on Saturday responded very positively. We had some lovely feedback from audience members reaffirming our hopes that maybe, as an unusual ensemble, we can bring something new and genuinely interesting to the table.

The festival was also a crash-course in personal growth. Aside from being excellent musicians, all of the artists were also wonderful human beings. Their calm professionalism under pressure and friendly generosity was amazing and most of them appeared, outwardly at least, to be enviably well-balanced individuals. In an industry where there are so many stories of colleagues burning out or experiencing difficult personal lives, it was refreshing and has given us something positive as individuals and an ensemble to work towards. Work-life balance is a buzzword in the corporate world and should maybe have greater consideration in ours as well.

On returning to Melbourne now our biggest challenge is to keep up the positive momentum of the last week. We have so many ideas for where we want to go musically, personally and professionally after this experience and it is going to be important for us to debrief and reflect properly. Our next concert on 25th September is a good opportunity to start implementing some of this as we work with new repertoire and artists. Having this project to return to will hopefully help us avoid that deflation that can so often follow a performance-high!

My Rehearsal Room: Clare Johnston

It has always fascinated me that throughout history it has been acceptable for women to be great keyboard players but objectionable for them to be composers. Is there something so inherently male about composing and the creative genius? The most famous female composer of the nineteenth century, Clara Schumann, proclaimed that “a woman must not desire to compose. There has never yet been one able to do it. Should I expect to be that one?” Even though her husband Robert encouraged her and she was much more famous than him in her lifetime as a concert pianist, achieving compositional greatness seemed out of the question to Clara. She was a woman of her time and firmly believed that a woman’s compositional ability was inferior to man’s.

Leopold Mozart was happy for his daughter, Nannerl, to be a keyboard virtuoso but did not even comment when she sent him a composition she wrote. Similarly, Fanny Mendelssohn’s pianistic skills were given the highest praise: “she plays like a man” said her teacher Carl Friedrich Zelter. Yet her father discouraged her from composing. He wrote to her, “music will perhaps become [Felix's] profession, while for you it can and must be only an ornament”. Her famous brother Felix also believed that Fanny’s household duties must come before her music and published some of her compositions under his own name.

Since then women have sought equality in all areas of domestic and professional life, including music. There is an emerging appreciation of female composers with ensembles and radio stations starting to play their music more frequently. Ensemble Offspring has dedicated their entire 2017 season to performing and commissioning work by female composers. They are aiming for 50% of their subsequent programs to be music by women. Musica Viva founded the Hildegard project to commission more chamber music from Australian female composers. BBC 3 has a website dedicated to ‘Celebrating Female Composers’ as part of International Women’s Day. Australian composers Lisa Cheney and Peggy Polias are doing wonders for Australian music with their podcast ‘Making Waves’, which showcases the work of many female composers. These initiatives bring to the public and to musicians an awareness of the existence of great music written by women.

I am extremely fortunate to be one of four women in the inaugural National Women Composers’ Development Program run by the Sydney Conservatorium of Music. The opportunity to learn from, collaborate with and write for some of Australia’s best professional musicians is an extraordinary privilege. Several of Australia’s top female composers, including Maria Grenfell, Moya Henderson and Anne Boyd, are acting as our mentors. I admire the vision of those at the Sydney Conservatorium who are addressing the gender imbalance between male and female composers by giving women more opportunities for their music to be played and heard.

Just 26% of Australian composers are women. If more contemporary music by female composers is performed this will inspire other young women to write music and will create role models for future generations.

I have never regarded it as a disadvantage being in such a male-dominated field, though I have always been aware of it. Times are changing for female composers and I think their music is being brought into the spotlight with more performances, radio broadcasts and now incredible programs such as the one I am fortunate enough to be a part of. One of my favourite female composers, Julia Wolfe, just won the Pulitzer Prize for music, which demonstrates that women are being recognised more in the field of composition. I still hope that one day we will simply be called ‘composers’.

Our Creative Process: Ensemble Goldentree [Part II]

In the whirlwind of a festival it’s so easy to lose track of time. Before you know it you’re halfway through the week and at the pointy end of your own expectations. This might partly be because, like the tropical rainforests not too far north of our current location, festivals seem to exist within their own self-made micro-climate. It’s as if all of the emotions, ideas and inspirations you might have over the course of an entire year are condensed into the space of a week. It’s exciting. It’s thrilling. It’s a roller coaster, emotionally and physically.

The most exciting aspect of this, for us at least, has been the sheer number of new ideas that have been given to us by the coaches, artists and even audience members at the festival. In each coaching we have presented the music as it exists for us at that given moment and have left with a multitude of new possible directions to go in. It’s been interested to have these ideas come from different disciplines as well - be they vocal, brass or strings.

As students we have an opportunity to not only have coachings with the artists, but also to be sharing rehearsal and recreational space with them. For most of the week we are based around the Pit Building next to the Civic Theatre, in which we rehearse next to the artists and share the kitchen space. This means that we are fortunate enough to regularly bump into our coaches throughout the week and observe how they professionally approach their busy schedules. In many way this, coupled with seeing them perform each night, is as educational as the one-on-one time we get with them. We’ve found that in order to get the most out of the week, we need to treat every moment as a learning opportunity.

At this halfway point, with our own performance coming up on Saturday, it’s satisfying to hear our own works clicking together and taking on the feedback we’ve received. We’ve chosen some difficult repertoire and it’s a great feeling when it starts to take on a life of its own.

Even though it is busy, the lovely thing about being in Townsville is that a break on the beach, a nice view or a chance to just sit in the sun while you work isn’t far away. It might be one of the reasons they can pack the festival to the brim and still have everyone stay sane, generous and friendly.

My Rehearsal Room: Clinton Daley

Melbourne Philharmonia Project was launched with a simple vision, an orchestral movement that truly represented Melbourne’s aspiring classical musicians. Launching MPP took allot of planning but also allot of resources to bring and idea to life. Our executive team up until now has been quite small for what we are. Learning from experience I wanted as small a team to begin with where everyone had a clear role to play. However, we are bringing more exciting people on board to reflect how MPP is expanding. Speaking in plain terms we will have an annual turnover for our first year of about 70k, and how our organisation is run should reflect that. This is our focus for the second half of the year, matching how MPP is run as an organisation to what we are artistically.

Creating a concert from scratch as with anything really revolves around three major aspects, the planning, the preparation and the execution. We had quite a condensed rehearsal period of about two weeks and five rehearsals. Many of the musicians who play in MPP are used to operating on a tight rehearsal schedule with their casual work in professional orchestras. The expectations of a conductor are also heightened. Frankly, the hardest challenge for a young conductor is not our conducting technique, but our rehearsal technique. Although it’s a privilege to be able to create music with your friends, it also presents many challenges. Informing a mate that what they are playing is not quite right and asking for a certain passage to be played differently provides an interesting moral dilemma. However, these musicians are giving up their time to play in an orchestra that I’m conducting. I have a moral obligation to them to make the ensemble the best it can possibly be. I’m also privileged that the members of MPP normally pull me up when I’m doing something that isn’t quite clear. I trust them unconditionally because the orchestra is my greatest teacher, it’s these people that are most affected by what I do.

The rehearsals for our second concert provided different challenges to that of our first. Although Mahler 1 is a technically more difficult piece for the orchestra than Sibelius 1, it’s a constant piece of the symphonic canon. Most of us have either played it or been to a concert where it has been programmed. We were three rehearsals out from the concert and the concert wasn’t quite coming along

as I’d like, most of that was honestly due to me. I had taken way too much on in the two weeks leading up to the concert and my demeanour on the podium reflected that. People around my inner circle knew that I was struggling and honestly not quite with it. But one person in particular went out of her way to lend a helping hand: Michelle Wood of the MSO and Tin Alley Quartet reached out to me and offered her expertise for our last couple of rehearsals. Through experience, she knew exactly what the orchestra needed. It was a massive wake-up call for me as a young conductor, in terms of what an orchestra needs from a conductor but also its’ leader. She not only inspired the orchestra but also lit that fire inside me for those last few days and concert night.

Although“Solitary Pathways” presented many new challenges it was undoubtedly a success. A smaller orchestra due to instrumentation but a larger attendance. We had an audience of 215 for our first concert but for our second concert we had an audience of 250. What we said we’d do on a larger scale we executed very well and even got a rave review in Cut Common. However, it’s the smaller things that we as an organisation need to work on and myself as an Artistic Director need to develop. Our next concert experience will feature some truly world class musicians and collaborators that we can’t wait to reveal. In saying that, the expectations of MPP as an organisation will be much greater but I’ve got no doubt that I have the team and musicians behind me to match the hype.

Our Creative Process: Ensemble Goldentree [Part I]

We are an unusual ensemble. An obvious reason for this is our instrumentation.

As an ensemble specialising in music for horn and voice (and most of the time, horn and soprano), we face some unique challenges when it comes to sourcing repertoire, programming concerts and finding opportunities for professional and artistic development. This is why we were so excited to find out about the Australian Festival of Chamber Music’s Advanced Winterschool - an intensive week of coaching and networking that didn’t just cater for string quartets and piano trios!

In 2015 we travelled to Townsville and participated as a trio for horn (Tim Hannah), soprano (Alison McIntosh-Deszcz) and piano (Jacob Davey). Whilst by no means extensive, the repertoire for that combination is more-or-less known amongst performers (Schubert’s Auf dem Strom and Arnold Cooke’s Nocturnes being the most popular). This year we decided to take the risky step of applying for the Winterschool as a duet - looking at music solely for horn and soprano. The repertoire for this combination is notably less well-known.

Herein lies the first in a list of challenges for our pre-festival preparation and for the running of a specialist ensemble: sourcing repertoire. As with most of our more uncommon repertoire, we stumbled across our eventual choice, Tres Psalmi Davidis by Karl Kroeger, whilst searching for repertoire ideas across university libraries, music streaming services, sheet music catalogues and concert program archives. From experience we’ve learned that finding out the music exists is usually the easy part. Finding the physical or digital sheet music and a recording (if there is one) is the real challenge. So many works for our combination have only been performed once since their composition, have never been published or have gone out of print. We were lucky to find a digital copy of the score through a university library and a recording (with trombone) on Spotify. Good librarians are truly the unsung heroes of the music industry.

Preparing the music for private practice and rehearsal sometimes requires additional behind-the-scenes work. Often music has either been handwritten, photocopied so many times as to make accidentals and words unreadable or is simply supplied as a score too small for practical use in rehearsals. Often it requires editing, enlarging and extra printing. This work was no exception.

With almost all of the music we perform, the text is very important. During this early preparation we both seek out translations and look to see how the composer has chosen to interpret the words through the music. In exposed chamber music like these duets, both parts share the task of conveying the meaning.

Perhaps the biggest challenge for both of us is the rehearsal and performance of a work without piano - something which neither of us have experienced to this (small) scale. The parts are very exposed all (yep - ALL) the time. Where we would emerge from a bubbling piano brook in Schubert, here we emerge from silence, which can be rather less forgiving.

The logistics of attending a festival or interstate winterschool/summerschool are always something easily forgotten amongst the musical preparation, but it is worth noting that there is budgeting to be done, flights to book, accommodation to organise and suitcases to pack. All of this happens weeks or, if there’s a sale, months in advance, so we need to keep track of it all. We use Google Drive for communal document storage and Trello, a project management program, to make sure we both have access to the same information on the go.

We started this article by saying that we are an unusual ensemble. Aside from our instrumentation, we are also a couple who work together, which adds another dimension to our music making, relationship and attendance at this festival. It brings its own set of challenges and solutions, an unspoken rapport and a sickly romantic element to a tropical working holiday.

Our Creative Process: Rubiks Collective [Part IV]

Hello from the other side! It’s been almost two weeks since our concert ‘The cold earth slept below’ at the Kew Court House, and winter has really hit Melbourne. We (Kaylie and Tamara) are sitting here, cups of tea in hand, reflecting on what was another exciting adventure for Rubiks. Here’s a rundown of our performance day, and some helpful advice for anyone planning their own concert!

The first carload of instruments for our 5pm concert arrived bright and early at 10 in the morning. We’d planned a schedule that made sure we’d have plenty of time for sound checks, rehearsal and – most importantly – lunch! The morning had been set aside for bumping in our bigger instruments and meeting with Ben, who was our stage manager, sound engineer and lighting designer for the day. Once the stage was set, we were able to spend the afternoon carefully sound checking each piece without rushing through the process. It can be really helpful to have a friend or colleague sit in on these last rehearsals to check the balance from the audience’s perspective. The sound can change dramatically when you move from rehearsal room to performance venue, and it can be difficult to tell when you’re immersed in the music on stage!

While we’re talking schedules, a good rule of thumb for rehearsing on the big day is to make sure you wrap up well before the concert starts. We try to aim for ‘tools down’ an hour before the performance to give everyone a chance to re-energise.

Once you’re on stage performing, it can seem like the concert goes by in a flash. A huge amount of preparation goes on behind the scenes of any show, so it’s important to document all your hard work! Some useful ways to document your performances include recordings, videos, photos and reviews. These materials will potentially become super handy further down the track when applying for grants or performance opportunities.

After the show, we strongly believe in celebration drinks and a sleep in - but when you wake up, remember to thank your supporters through mailing lists or social media! Audience members have set aside time, purchased a ticket and travelled to the venue, often braving the elements so they deserve a thank you. This is also a great time to let supporters know about your next show, or to share a recording, photo or review from the day.

So what’s next? While working on ‘The cold earth slept below’, we’ve also been planning future shows. This has included working on grant applications and event proposals, meeting to discuss programming ideas, and a lot of late night pizza. Something we’ve learned from mentors and other ensembles is the need to forward plan like crazy. Often ideas need to sit with you for a long time before they really take shape, and sometimes you’ll be submitting a concert proposal a year or more before your gig will take place! Keep track of your ideas, even if they seem unachievable at first. Don’t be afraid to ask for advice or help, and you’ll be amazed at what you can pull off. It’s often the best ideas that initially seem impossible!

Our Creative Process: Rubiks Collective [Part III]

With less than a week to go before the concert, the Rubiks team have begun ramping up promotion for The cold earth slept below. Creating a plan for the promotion of any concert is essential, and sticking to deadlines can really assist this process. Making an event on Facebook a few weeks before your concert is a great way to get the word out, but it’s good to remember that you’re competing against the huge volume of information that clutters up everybody’s newsfeeds! It’s useful to think about creative alternatives to make sure your event receives enough exposure and all your hard work pays off.

Generating an eye-catching poster is a chance to share themes and ideas from the concert in a different artistic form, and a chance to exercise those vivid imaginations! Once you’ve settled on an image, the goal is to share it as widely as possible. We print both full-size posters and smaller fliers, which can be left in cafes, venues, or handed out after other events to reach a wide variety of potential audience members.

Behind-the- scenes photos and videos are a great way to drum up interest, and are easy to share via social media or email. A quick snap or recording from a rehearsal in the lead up to an event can intrigue your audience, giving people a sneak preview into the concert. This week we’ve shared a recording from our last concert Imaginarium, where we collaborated with composer and animator Marcus Fjellström. Documenting your activity as an ensemble is a great way to communicate to your followers what your ensemble is all about, and can be invaluable in the future if you need support materials for grant applications.

Mailing lists are also an excellent way to securely send information to those in your audience that may not have heard about the concert, didn’t happen to see your poster, or don’t have social media. Through word of mouth and sign up sheets at our previous events, Rubiks has built up a database of our wonderful supporters. This is hugely useful, allowing us to send through regular updates and details of upcoming events.

Once the groundwork for publicity has been laid down, a press release is your most useful tool to notify various media outlets about your event. These organisations can publish advertisements and/or articles about your concert, but will need plenty of lead time to plan ahead. A good rule of thumb is to email your press release to editors no less than six weeks before the event.

With the publicity taken care of, now we can talk about rehearsals! So far Rubiks have had three rehearsals for each work on our program, and before our performance on Sunday we’ll have one last rehearsal and a sound check in the performance venue. This gives us a total of about four rehearsals per piece. It may not seem like much, but this is fairly standard practice for professional musicians, who often have limited time and many other commitments.

The repertoire we’ve chosen for The cold earth slept below is quite technically demanding and we have limited time together, so we need to make our rehearsals as efficient as possible. Clear communication is essential, and setting goals for each rehearsal streamlines the process considerably. Breaking the piece down into clear sections can help the ensemble to build a better understanding of difficult works and give rehearsals a clear structure.

The week before the concert is when things can start to get tough in terms of balancing your practice time and time spent on the logistics for your concert. It’s important to take care of yourself and support each other! Take breaks, rest up, and look after your fellow ensemble members. Remember, chocolate puts a smile on everyone’s face!

Our final installment will be after our concert. We’re looking forward to seeing you on Sunday at The cold earth slept below!

-Gemma and Jacob, Rubiks Collective

Our Creative Process: Rubiks Collective [Part II]

Rubiks are two weeks out from ‘The cold earth slept below’ and rehearsals have well and truly begun! This program involves a solo work, trio, sextet and song cycle so needless to say, we require some guest musicians.

Choosing a musician to join the mix of a pre-established ensemble can be a very delicate task. Of course you want a fantastic musician, but there are many more factors to consider. Not only do you need the right fit musically, but it’s also important to consider whether the personalities of your guest musicians and your group will gel together. Kaylie, our Rubiks percussionist, often references many pearls of wisdom she picked up during her time at the Sō Percussion Summer Institute, including the following: “Be a great player and a great hang”. It may sound silly, but it is definitely something to consider – whether entering pre-established ensembles yourself as a musician or when choosing a guest for your own ensemble. It’s also a good reminder that while time in the practice room mastering your instrument is crucial, do remember that connecting with people is also important – especially if you’re considering a freelance career in music.

Once you’ve found your ideal players, the next important thing to consider is whether you all have timetables that will allow for a productive rehearsal period. Rubiks require four guest musicians for our next program, so we need to coordinate the schedules of eight people for the rehearsal period. The Internet has greatly eased this process (changed order), as there are so many programs available to help simplify coordinating times. Rubiks tend to use ‘doodlepoll’ to gather availabilities of our players, and we know many other wonderful ensembles have had equal success using ‘Google Cal’ or ‘whenisgood’. This is a whole lot quicker than emailing back and forth to figure out when everyone might be free!

So you’ve gathered player availabilities and secured your venues – now comes the first rehearsal day! You might think that this is when the work begins, but actually this is just when your combined work begins. First rehearsal etiquette is really important in setting up a productive and happy rehearsal environment before your gig. You should definitely be across your own notes before the first rehearsal, but to really be at your best you also want to be aware of the context of your part. Knowing a bit about your musical surroundings and the role your instrument is playing at any given moment in the piece means you’ll have a deeper understanding of the music. Spending time listening to recordings and working with a score is the best preparation for this – and marking cues into your part is always an excellent idea.

It’s also wise to arrive a little early (especially for that first rehearsal) in order to find your seating placement within the ensemble, allow for any questions to be answered and meet any players that are new to you! Ensemble success rarely comes from having a tyrannical enforcer, so the best way to demonstrate this etiquette within your ensemble is to lead by example. With rehearsals continuing next week, it’s back into the practice room for us this weekend. Not only are there notes to be learned on our usual instruments, but also a few extra unusual sounds to master. Clue: there was a trip to Bunnings involved…

-Tamara- Rubiks Collective

Our Creative Process: Rubiks Collective [Part I]

Sometimes it’s hard to figure out the first steps in putting on a concert. Do you look for your repertoire, or choose a theme, or book a venue, or find the players first? There are so many moving parts it can be hard to know where to begin.

For us, this concert began with a venue. The Kew Court House runs a great series for early career musicians and ensembles called “Future Classic”, which has previously featured Julia Hastings, Alex Raineri, and anon. This series is particularly special because the artists are given the opportunity to curate their own program. The musicians in our ensemble are all incredibly passionate about creative programming, so being handed a blank slate was both a thrilling and slightly daunting prospect. How do you settle on an idea?

In a brainstorming session for the ensemble, we each brought ideas for repertoire and potential themes to the table. We eventually became excited about the idea of a concert exploring themes related to the winter solstice, which falls a week after our concert. The solstice is symbolic of death and new life, and our program reflects these themes. Much of the repertoire is reflective, evoking the stillness of long winter nights.

After settling on a program we adored, we encountered a reality check when trouble arose in attempting to seek an extremely specific guest musician. One of the programmed works involved an exceedingly delicate and demanding coloratura soprano part, and we were unable to find someone who was available for our rehearsal period. Knowing when to press on or return to the drawing board can be a difficult decision. We chose to start afresh, and secured the opportunity to give the Australian premiere of a work by one of the ensemble’s favourite composers. We’d discussed this piece in our initial repertoire plans, but thought it was still under exclusivity. After emailing the composer, we were thrilled to find out it was available. It always pays to ask!

Next up was a site visit to the Court House. Having the chance to be in the space helped us to imagine how this concert might look and sound, and start refining our ideas about presentation. We knew that the space was relatively small, so it was great to check that we could fit our typically large number of percussion instruments on the stage! We also had a chance to meet with the venue manager, and talk about visual and logistical elements like lighting and the audience’s seating layout. It’s great to have the luxury of time in this scenario, meaning we can plan ahead and think about using the space creatively.

So what’s next? We’re continuing to juggle the admin and starting to learn the dots on the page. A month out from this concert, publicity is a key concern and we’ve been working on a media release and marketing materials.

At the same time we’re making rehearsal schedules, scanning scores, and even making instruments! We’ll be revealing our program shortly, and by the next time you hear from us we’ll have just begun our rehearsals. Til then, back to the practice room!

- Jacob Abela & Kaylie Melville, Rubiks Collective

My Rehearsal Room: Anthony Foon

Music students of today are bombarded with examples of remarkable musicians at the top of their field. Whether it be jazz, classical, soul or folk music, I challenge you to not be able to find someone in some part of the world doing it extremely well. It is a common practice for performers to educate themselves in one style of music and to develop a career based on this specialisation. This practice, as I am sure you are aware, is the basis of most tertiary music education programs around the world. However, there are musicians who play multiple genres of music successfully (and profitably) – they are often referred to as crossover musicians. I have had the good fortune to meet many musicians who fit into this category and I consider these people to be some of the most highly skilled performers I know.

In the brass world, one of the best examples of a crossover musician is renowned trumpet player Wynton Marsalis. In 1983 and 1984 he was awarded Grammy awards for both a classical and a jazz album, highlighting that it is possible to be successful performing two different genres of music concurrently. This is by no means the only example, nor is this practice only restricted to trumpet players. It does raise the question however of what does it takes to be successful in more than one style of music. Technical ability and grasp of stylistic approach aside, an issue often faced by crossover musicians, or indeed anyone who might enjoy performing multiple genres of music, is the criticism of their own colleagues. However, when there are only so many jobs in the music world, does it not make sense to expand your skill set and make yourself as employable and diverse as possible? For someone starting to develop their skills in performing multiple styles of music, the negative opinions or preconceived perceptions of what you can and can’t perform according to your training by those around you can be oppressing. It is important to remember that you get to decide what genres of music you perform and that it should always be something that you enjoy.

As an honours student at the Melbourne Conservatorium of Music I have chosen to conduct a research project on the topic of crossover musicians and will be forming my thesis on this area of study. My project aims to promote an awareness of, and highlight both the benefits and disadvantages of working as a crossover musician in today’s musical environment. I intend to explore the roles and situations a crossover musician may be required to work in, and from this create ways for musicians to develop the skills required as a crossover musician. I believe that crossover musicians can draw strong connections between different styles of music, with the process of mastering varying styles improving their musical abilities overall. As part of my research I will be holding a conference-style event later this year with professional crossover musicians speaking about their experiences playing more than one genre of music. This will be open to the public and I encourage anyone at all interested in this topic to come along. Keep an eye out in REHEARSALmagazine for details when they become available.

Next time you see a friend or fellow musician performing more than one style of music, I encourage you to talk with them about it and support their passion for diverse music performance. Performing in multiple genres yourself can be a great way to explore different performance skills that you can then apply to your area of specialisation, or even open up a world of performance opportunities. If you know of a performer on your instrument that could be considered a crossover musician I would love to hear about them. Feel free to leave a comment below or get in contact via social media.

Our Rehearsal Room: Trio Musae

For many of us, involvement in classical music is an outlet for calming us, inspiring us, and demonstrating pure creativity at all levels. It is a constant in our lives as we meet fellow musicians, music lovers and idols – many of whom you might end up working with professionally, just like we did. The genesis of Trio Musae began in the school grounds of Parkville’s University High School. We were three friends who played and studied together until we began our tertiary education, where we divided ourselves between The University of Melbourne and Monash University. Today, we aspire for Trio Musae to be our primary source of income, which is sadly proving more and more difficult in current society.

On top of paying bills, rent, and buying petrol, we also need to maintain our instruments and social lives as part of a balanced lifestyle (five hours of practice a day, anyone?). As young musicians, a conventional lifestyle post‐study is seemingly becoming more unrealistic as we delve into the deeper levels of the industry.

We do consider ourselves lucky that we can call our passion our job, but a common problem we face is dealing with the unrealistic expectations of the clientele. Firstly, many are completely unaware of the stress and complications that we deal with, and being told that they simply want to add class to an event often isn’t enough information. For the performance, we put in many hours of behind‐the‐scenes preparation in rehearsals and arranging, without which the gigs would not be professional.

Secondly, it is clear that many clients are taken aback when told how much professional groups charge for a gig. Little do they know they are paying for countless hours of practice and lessons, instruments, dedication of the professional to be at the standard they are at, travel to and from the gig, buying sheet music or paying for facilities to access it, and also paying for the exposure to get the gig in the first place!

At what point do you begin to say no to gigs? Many clients often advertise for musicians to play with no mention of payment in the description, only the promise of exposure, experience and networking opportunities. Thanks, but no thanks. But, this is the dilemma we are currently facing – aspiring to be professionals and make a career out of our trio, we need exposure, experience and networks in order to solidify our place in the industry.

However, when it comes down to it, we really do need to put a price on our talent. Here are some helpful tips for musicians as beginning professionals which we like to follow when it comes to deciding whether or not to accept a gig:

Only accept a small amount of low-paid gigs a year. The more you do, the more you begin to feel used and uninspired; this is when it stops being a passion.
If it’s a community event, accept this as unpaid work. We need as much classical music as possible injected into our community to inspire and involve all members of society. In a city where seeing a classical concert can cost upwards of $80, it is nice to have free and local events where all ages and walks of life are accepted and can be exposed to live classical music – the more classical musicians do this, the better everyone’s future will be.
All other gigs should be paid at an appropriate rate, with few exceptions. It is a good idea to have a set price for what you would like to charge for one hour, 1.5 hours and two hours – and don’t forget the travel fee. This way when you are asked by the client, you have a set template to go by that won’t differ between gigs.
We have chosen to take the professional musician’s path despite its common hurdles and obligations, because we know this is a small price to pay for the artistic fulfilment we experience.

Written by Miranda Bell and Elissa Robustelli

My Rehearsal Room: Samantha Wolf

I’m going to tell you something I wish somebody had told me years ago: having a day job does not make you any less of an artist. In fact, having a day job can actually make you a better artist.

This may be hard to believe when anything less than five hours practicing or composing every day feels like slacking off. I know how you feel – the music world is full of overachievers, so to stand out, you need to over-overachieve. That means taking on every project you can, and smashing them all out of the park. That means late nights with strong coffee. That means completely dedicating yourself to music, which leaves no time for a job outside the field.

The problem is that you might not have a choice. Orchestral and academic gigs are eye-wateringly competitive, and increasingly insecure. Teaching work can be hard to come by, and even established composers can find themselves without paid commissions for months. So unless you’re able to live with your parents indefinitely, you need to think about ways to bring home the bacon. For a lot of you, that will mean a day job – a job outside of music. And that’s okay. In fact, it’s great!

Before I explain why, let’s set a few things straight. Having a day jobdoes not mean you’ve failed as a musician. Having a day job does not mean you’re ‘selling out’. Needing money to survive does not make you less brilliant or creative, it makes you human. There is nothing remotely romantic or enjoyable about living in poverty. Not knowing how you’re going to pay rent will not help you make music, and it certainly won’t make you happy.

Now we’ve cleared that up, here’s the good news: day jobs can be great for your music career. I didn’t realise this until very recently, when I set about organising my first ‘real’ concert (which you should totally go to! Click here to find out more.). As I went through the process of budgeting, applying for funding, re-budgeting (because you never get all the funding you ask for), commissioning composers, sourcing musicians, securing the venue, liaising with technicians, figuring out and implementing a marketing strategy, ensuring everyone gets paid, and generally making sure everybody is happy and confident, it slowly dawned on me that almost all the skills and knowledge I was drawing upon came from my work experience, not my BMus or composition portfolio.

I’ve always had to have a day job – sometimes two or three – but I never considered how any of them could help my music career. Now I’m a little bit older, I can look back and connect the dots. Retail experience helped me land a receptionist job. That helped me negotiate my way into volunteering with an arts organisation, which eventually turned into my first arts admin job, then my second, and then my third. Without arts admin experience, I might not have had the confidence to apply for the funding to put on ‘This Will Be Our Reply’. Without that funding, there’d be no concert, and the four amazing works that I was able to commission probably wouldn’t exist now.

I’d be organising concerts no matter what, but I’d be doing it the hard way – by making mistakes and learning from them. This doesn’t mean I’ll never make mistakes, but the learning curve is much smoother than it otherwise would have been. Sending marketing materials to venues has shown me what a great campaign looks like. Preparing financial reports has helped me hone my budgeting skills, which in turn has greatly helped funding applications. Working in sales has taught me how to negotiate and close a deal. Managing tour logistics has helped me become a forward planner and problem-solver. Juggling all this with music has taught me the importance of prioritisation, goal-setting and keeping calm under pressure – though I still struggle with those sometimes! Thanks to my day job, I have no problem navigating invoices, contracts, press releases, budgets, EOIs, promotional images, public liability insurance, even visa applications. These real-world skills are invaluable, and without them, I’d have a tough time organising a concert.

Unexpectedly, working outside of music gives me a sense of mental balance. This is obviously different for everybody, but splitting my time between composing and tour management works really well for me. Every part of my brain gets some exercise. I can think strategically, logically, creatively and critically – and I can switch between these modes quickly, several times a day, because that’s what I’ve been doing for years.

Even if your day job has absolutely nothing to do with music, you’ll be surprised at what you find when you keep an open mind. The sketches I drew on a call centre desk became the score for Quasi. My friend Anderson Alden wrote a piece inspired by glass shards from a construction site he worked on. Inspiration comes from all sorts of places, not only your desk or instrument.

Obviously, it isn’t all sunshine and roses. Working two jobs is hard work, especially if only one of them provides a regular income. There have been times when I haven’t slept more than six hours in three days. I’ve had to decline composition opportunities due to work commitments, and vice versa. But compromise has a funny way of helping you discover what truly matters to you. And when you discover it, you’ll be well equipped to make the most of it.

So never apologise for supporting yourself in ways other than music. Don’t feel bad for answering phones in an office, or serving overpriced coffee to overpriced suits. What you learn in those jobs will serve you for the rest of your career – and at least you’ll keep a roof over your head. Most importantly though, remember that if you’re making art, then you’re an artist, full stop.

My Rehearsal Room: Amy Sellars

Being aware of your body whilst playing any instrument is something that the majority of people assume they are doing, but most of the time they actually aren’t. Often in life we are not conscious or aware of ourselves and how our bodies are feeling. Physically you can be conscious of course, (I hope!) but are you mentally conscious whilst playing your instrument—for 100 percent or even 95 percent of your practice session? Being mentally conscious is a very different concept to being physically conscious. Are you in the moment, questioning your actions, listening, feeling, processing, thinking, working and discovering new or better ways of doing things? Or are you simply moving your arms, pushing keys down or bowing at some strings to get to the end of a page of notes?

You may be acutely aware that you’re standing or sitting whilst playing your instrument, or that you hold your instrument/rest it on the ground/rest it on your body. If you’re aware of this, great: this is a significant step in being awake and present whilst practicing your instrument.

But let’s go further than this—when was the last time you asked yourself in your practice session ‘how do my shoulders feel when I play this phrase?’ or ‘how does my neck feel when I make it to this part of the piece?’ and then actively sought an answer?

I actually do ask myself these questions regularly in my practice sessions, and upon asking these questions I usually find that my answer is ‘tight’ or ‘tense’ or ‘not relaxed’. Once I am aware of this, I am then able to ‘free’ these parts of my body so that I’m not playing whilst tense. I know I’m not alone in this answer either; a large portion of musicians play with unnecessary tension somewhere in their bodies.

Sometimes I realise that I’m standing with more weight on one foot that the other. Other times one of my arms is really tense in preparation for a particular phrase in a piece. Another personal favourite is raising my shoulders up towards my ears (even just the tiniest amount)—creating unwanted tension in my neck, shoulders and back. Doing this makes breathing and breath control slightly more of an effort. Occasionally I even notice that my head and neck are tense AND tilted slightly to one side (this is definitely helping me play the saxophone better right?!?!).

Next time you watch someone perform, see if you can notice any of these habits. I noticed as soon as I was becoming aware of certain bad habits in my own practice, I was even more aware when I saw other people doing them. This especially applies to standing unevenly or raising your shoulders whilst performing, which is more common than you would think!

As human beings we hold the weight of the world’s problems on our shoulders, and on other parts of our bodies. So whilst playing an instrument, us musicians often hold all our perseverance, drive, determination and tension physically in various parts of our body whilst we play.

Speaking from my own experience, this tension was just something my body did whenever I played the saxophone; it tensed up to try really really hard to get that phrase exactly right, or that low C to not honk, or those staccato repeated notes to be tongued smoother and faster. Whenever I played my sax—even at first just holding the instrument—my neck and shoulders would tense up.

Once I realised that tension would not help me play those repeated notes faster, or that phrase exactly how I wanted it to sound, I recognised that this was something I could change. I didn’t need to play with tension, so why should I let this be my habit?

By placing extra tension and pressure on parts of my body, I was using more effort than required, and therefore not breathing, playing, performing, and executing things at my most efficient and productive level. Not being efficient means it takes longer to do things and can place extra strain and wear and tear on the body in the long run. However, by trying to be present and aware, through constantly questioning myself and how my body was feeling in a practice session, I was quicker to notice how I was conducting myself and whether or not I had tension in my body. Often as I went through a practice session I would notice tension, but the fact that I had notices it and been made aware I was tense, meant that I could change what I was doing and fix it in that moment. Through consciously ‘freeing’ my body and creating space for my muscles to move, I could release any tension.

By continuing to practice and perform on our instruments with tension in our bodies (and often also tension on our minds), we are making this tension a habit. Just like the saying "you can’t teach an old dog new tricks", these habits when practiced often enough can become very difficult, if not near impossible to break. Or in other words, "you can teach an old dog new tricks—BUT it may take a very long time for their old habits to be broken and new habits established, because its habits have been set in their way for such a long time"!! Doesn’t roll off the tongue quite as well as the original saying! The key is to try to reinforce the good habits, and stress the importance of awareness and presence every time we pick up our instruments, with the goal to make our practice as efficient and tension-free as possible.

Through reinforcing this idea of awareness I hope that more efficient practice techniques and performance can become the norm. Often it can take a repetitive strain injury for a musician to realise the way they have been practicing or playing (often both) isn’t as efficient as it could be. If they’re smart or perhaps hunting out alternative ways then they may have this realisation, but some people just continue doing what they’re doing, believing in the ‘no pain no gain’ mantra. This ultimately just results in more pain, more tension, more damage to their bodies and minds in the long run, and perhaps a change of career or loss of a loved hobby as a result of being unable to play their chosen instrument.

It’s only once you are aware of the bad habits that you can break them. Even the smallest ones that only you notice can be making a massive difference to the efficiency and ease of your playing and performances. And by noticing what you’re doing along the way—instead of just trying to get to an endpoint—teaches you more in the long run. As Ernest Hemmingway said, “It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end.” So, be conscious and aware so that you CAN appreciate the journey!

My Career: John Grant

Want some advice? DON'T DO WHAT JOHN DID!

Don't do what I did. I wanted to join a rock band. And I did. After 12 years of classical training, my mum and my piano teacher were not impressed. I still play in bands, you can't stop me. But when I was starting out, I had no idea that all the other musical stuff in my life would happen. Nothing turns out as you expect, not for anyone. I could imagine performing, recording, writing music (with pen and paper). But I couldn't imagine doing half the things I've done, partly because a lot of those jobs didn't exist. I could imagine being in a world­ famous rock band. But that didn't happen, and that's probably for the best.

Say yes. Even if you don't think you can do it, give it a try. Don't worry about the money. You never know what it will lead to. I once did a photo shoot with a band because the band leader had a product endorsement, and the product was advertised in a music mag. The editor was there, and he needed a keyboard player to write reviews and conduct interviews. We'd never met, but for some reason he asked me, and I said yes, even though I'd never done anything like that.

Writing for a music mag meant that I had to visit music stores to check out the latest. One time I was in a store, the manager asked if I was interested in working during the day. My first reaction was: “Hell, No!” Then I started thinking about how it might actually free up evenings and weekends to devote to an original music project that I was planning. So I applied, and got the job, even though I'd never done anything like that.

Two years later, I was ready to leave, because I was starting to get work as a session musician, something I had never imagined I could do. At the same time, I'd been noticed by the Australian representative of one of the big­ name synthesizers that I was selling in­-store. They needed someone who knew about music technology. I knew quite a bit by that time, even though I never imagined that I would. I started demonstrating keyboards, drum machines, and synths, and became a “product specialist”, providing tech support and helping the company in heaps of ways, which also lead to a lot of travel, both interstate and around the world.

This part­-time/contract position lasted for 29 years. All because I said “yes” to writing one magazine article. Naturally, I'm expecting that this current article will yield similar ground­-breaking results for the next 29 years!

Nurture relationships as though they were veritable life­lines. Because they are. Some time ago, I read that most positions are filled by word­ of mouth, not by advertisements. I thought, surely that can't be right. But then I realized that of all the gigs I've done, all the multi­-directions that my musical path has followed, around 99.99% came via word­ of ­mouth, through people that I knew, or the contacts of people that I knew in the industry.

I did make a phone call once. I wanted a position playing keys in a new TV variety band. But the MD already had the band sorted, I was too late. However, because I was on the phone, he realized that I could help him with some sequencing and pre­-production work. I started going to the TV studio every week, and that lead to preparing the charts for the featured opening song on the show, every week.

Until shortly before that time, there was no alternative but to write scores and music charts by hand, and the ones I'd done were not pretty. My classical training had taught me the basic rules, but I'd never used a computer for scoring, it was a new frontier. Yet here I was, being thrust into preparing and printing arrangements for a 12­ piece band, week after week. Something I'd never imagined I would do. I learnt on the job ­ there's no margin for error in live­-to-­air TV.

That was 20 years ago. Ever since, I've continued with all sorts of arranging work, for major performing artists, musicals, sessions, and on ­going TV work. All from one phone call.

I haven't touched on composing, producing audio, synthesis, sound design, free improv, charity work, or becoming a Musical Director. Other stories for other times.

I don't want to give the impression that my life has been one easy cruise down the river, with me just dipping my fingers in the water whenever I pleased, to reap some rewards. Not at all. There have been tough times, and very ordinary times. Times when I wondered if I'd lost my way. Like any life. But eventually, someone I knew, or someone who knew someone I knew, called and offered me an unexpected gig.

So don't do what I did. Do something different. And do it better!

My Rehearsal Room: Edwin Kwong

Organists are kind of like the middle children of the musical world, you probably are vaguely aware that they exist, will occasionally see them at the dinner table, but you’re not really sure who they are or what exactly they are up to.

In a similar fashion, the organ as an instrument itself is also currently suffering from a lack of exposure; and most people, even classical musicians, aren’t aware of how it works or its capabilities. Like many people, some of you reading this will ask, or will have asked the question “so is the organ like the piano?”. And every time I hear that question, I usually mumble something along the lines of “Um… sort of… not really…” and try to think of an explanation that doesn’t take me half an hour or more to finish.

Much like the majority of organists, I began my musical journey learning the piano, as a slightly hyperactive four year old. My mum signed me up for piano lessons and being only four at the time, I didn’t really know what to expect out of it. Perhaps in a way this foreshadows my venturing into the wonderful world of the pipe organ, as I jumped into it without really knowing a whole lot about the instrument either! I auditioned for the organ scholarship programme at high school on a whim, and was fortunate enough to have been selected out of a large pool of very talented candidates.

It is, without doubt, always a humbling experience for anyone who decides to learn the organ. The reason why I say that is because unlike any other instrument, the organ requires the player to be fairly proficient on the piano before they can proceed to learning the organ. And it was humbling, and certainly at times extremely disheartening, to practically go back to square one in my musical journey. I was a decent pianist when I first started learning the organ in Year 9, as I was working towards my A.Mus diploma, but as soon as I had my first organ lesson, I felt much more like an uncoordinated sloth than a competent musician.

The first immediate hurdle for anyone beginning to learn the organ is, of course, to work out how to instruct their brain to coordinate the hands and the feet simultaneously. As the pedals are essentially another keyboard for the feet, it’s often a case of “anything you can do, I can do better” when composers write for the organ with intricate pedal parts which sometimes outshine the parts for the hands. For example, in Marcel Dupré’s charming, yet difficult Prelude in G minor, not only is part of the melody assigned to the feet, but the composer also calls for double-pedalling (playing two notes with one foot) for both the left and right foot. Or in the opening variation of the arrangement of the spiritual, Go Tell It On The Mountain, by the Mormon Tabernacle principal organist Richard Elliott, the left foot plays the bass line, and the right foot plays the melody at the same time.

Yet it is not only a matter of gaining coordination for a pianist transitioning to become an organist. On the surface, the organ of course looks quite similar to a piano, and it is not entirely surprising that many people think they are mostly alike. However, the way that one makes music on an organ is vastly different – you can think of an organ as a giant binary machine. For every key and every stop on an organ, there is either a 0, or a 1, either on, or off. And it is purely through learning complicated combinations and permutations of these 0s and 1s that an organist can finally create music out of the instrument. Organ playing is hence both an incredibly emotional, yet entirely logical exercise at the very same time.

A large pipe organ can more often resemble a pilot’s cockpit than a musical instrument, and learning how to pilot such a machine is made even more complicated by the fact that no two organ in the world are exactly the same. For pianists, they can comfortably assume that they can travel to a venue in a country half a world away, and the instrument will still most likely be a Steinway concert grand. But for organists, we must learn to not only adapt to each instrument with its particular individualities and potential shortcomings, but also to adapt to the environment in which the instrument is located. The acoustics of the building in which the organ is situated always influences how an organist has to shape and phrase the music.

For me, I have been fortunate enough to travel to quite a few different places to play the organ, including the chapel of St John’s College, Cambridge, St George’s Chapel at Windsor Castle, Hong Kong Cultural Centre, Auckland Town Hall, and also St Mary’s Cathedral, Sydney, just to name a few. Perhaps one of the greatest privileges as an organist is that we often gain access to places where most people would never have the chance to see. From looking upon the throng of tourists from the organ loft at Westminster Abbey, to standing on top of King Henry VIII’s tomb at Windsor Castle, to walking through a pitch black St Mary’s Cathedral after hours with no one around.

These experiences of mine are symbolic, I think, of what playing the organ is like. It is a lonely affair – even more so than a solo pianist, as often we are relegated to organ lofts hanging metres in the air, or hidden out of sight behind the instrument. It is also isolating – organists are often forced to practise late at night, when the venue is not in use, or when the church or cathedral has closed for the day. But it also brings a uniquely rewarding experience. To quote the international concert organist, Cameron Carpenter, playing the organ is a transmission of the human mind, which is more penetrating than any other instruments, including the human voice. For me, the pipe organ is a unique instrument, capable of evoking some of the most profound human emotions, partially through its constant supply of energy, in the form of pressurised air – a phenomenon unmatched until the Industrial Revolution – which led the French composer Charles-Marie Widor to comment that “Organ playing is the manifestation of a will filled with the vision of eternity”.

Whilst the organ is closely linked with the Christian church in today’s world, and it certainly derives some of its spiritual associations through this relationship, it is also very much a secular instrument, duly capable of both light entertainment as well as evoking potent spiritual emotions. One of the most significant reasons for the pipe organ’s lack of exposure today is because it is still heavily linked to the Christian church, and sometimes struggles to make its presence known as a secular concert instrument. However, with the advent of more and more concert organists these days, such as Cameron Carpenter, Felix Hell, or Thomas Heywood, who often perform at town halls, concert halls, and other secular venues, I am confident that the organ will be recognised as a legitimate concert instrument, which is more than capable of existing without the church.

I do hope that in time, more and more people will want to learn about this wonderful instrument, which I adore with all my heart. The pipe organ is one of the world’s oldest and most versatile instruments, and I am certain that it will continue to evolve and adapt as its heritage grows, and it will undoubtedly be seen as a shining gem once more in the ever-changing world of classical music in the near future.

My Rehearsal Room: Luke Carbon

What I want to be, amongst probably too many things, is a professional note-player. Part of this process of attempting to become a professional woodwind musician in Australia, where gigs are not always plentiful and our postmodern musical society demands a lot from its players in terms of breadth of style, has involved a great deal of time spent learning how to ‘double’ on woodwinds other than my principal instrument (clarinet) and learning how to improvise — activities not normally associated with the pursuit of classical music. In the last couple of months I’ve performed on almost every member of the clarinet and saxophone families — piccolo, flute, oboe, and cor anglais — in settings including orchestra, opera, theatre, small jazz ensemble, free improvisation, and classical chamber playing. It probably goes without saying that my skills across these woodwinds are not nearly as strong as players who concentrate wholly on one instrument or who dedicate themselves to perfecting one particular style, and I’m at peace with that. What my varied pursuits give me though is versatility and a smorgasbord-esque approach to both my practice and my practise. As I’ve grown older and gained more experience, in both music and in being a functional human being, my understanding of what constitutes effective practise has changed. Here are a couple of simple thoughts on how I work:

1) Be holistic

There isn’t usually a normal week insofar as my performance demands go. My studies at ANAM involve, of course, quite a lot of clarinet playing, including a fair amount of bass clarinet and Eb which require their own preparation, and I usually end up spending a lot of time on my doubles—saxophone, flute, and oboe—as necessitated. In attempting to straddle these different languages and instruments, I need to keep reminding myself of the inter-connectedness of woodwind playing, and of music in general.

For me, clarinet is home base. It’s where I spend the most time in practice, and what I mostly think about when I’m thinking about music. If my clarinet playing is in good form, I find that it’s easier to make sure that my other woodwind playing is working as it should. Good air, good tonal imagination, and good ears are all concepts that are equally applicable to all wind and brass instruments. This is a concept applicable, really, to any instrument combination. Practicing the piano will surely strengthen your cello playing, even if it’s in terms of harmony and pitch.

I like to think about my practice in terms of keeping knives sharp. Each of my woodwinds is a different tool, and so too are my basic abilities to play in tune, in time, with appropriate stylistic awareness, and with proper ensemble sensibilities. If any of those things aren’t sharp, I’m not doing my job properly and I know that I need to go back to basics to address any fundamental issues that I might be experiencing. Once those issues are addressed though, it’s amazing how often the more complicated issues I have, in terms of fingering or legato or articulation, tend to fall into line. Truly in this sense, less is more.

The physical relationship between myself and my instruments is only the nexus between myself and what really matters: the music I’m playing. It's easy to get caught up in the physicality of playing an instrument and lose sight of what it is that we're producing with these wonderful tools of ours. It’s accepted now that the time spent physically attached to the instrument is one part, though a vital one, of effective musical practice. The benefits of mental practice have been espoused greatly in recent years, but even more important, to me at least, is the process of listening and being completely familiar with what it is that I’m playing. If my mental concept of what I’m trying to achieve is strong, and if my knives are sharp, then I’m in a good place.

2) Be kind to yourself

I’d wager that all of us have experienced that guilt when torn between ploughing forward into the night to better prepare for that recital or audition or gig, and calling it a night and going home. You’ve had a long day, you might have work in the morning, you maybe haven’t eaten properly, and your heart just isn’t in it. You could bully yourself into giving another 20 minutes or an hour or two and try to get something productive done, it’s true. There have been too many days recently when it’s almost 6 or 7pm and I’ve realised that I’ve barely practised any clarinet despite having been playing for most of the day, and I’ve been faced with the choice of forcing my tired mind and fingers back into the studio, or trying to recuperate overnight and continue the push fresh in the morning. Often I’ll push on but almost always I end up wishing that I hadn’t. Knowing your limits is so important, for reasons beyond the lurking dangers of RSI and the like. Work with yourself, not against yourself. A good relationship with your instrument and with music begins with a good relationship with yourself—if you’re unkind to yourself in the practice room, I believe that it will come across in performance.

3) We’re never really finished

Doesn’t this almost go without saying? We can practise for eight hours a day (though most of us really shouldn’t) every day of the week, and we’ll certainly get a lot better, but I’m in no rush. Music will be a lifelong pursuit for me in whatever capacity that ends up being, and I believe that the journey and the process is much more important than how good I will be when I die. The old adage from Pablo Casals about why he still practised for so long at 80 years of age — “Because I think I am making progress”—resonates with me. The practice of playing, of practising, is what helps define us as music-makers, and it might as well be good practice. You get done in the day only as much as you can, and then you continue the next day, a little bit better than before. Perfection in music is perhaps fiction—we’re never finished, and we never should be. There’s always going to be more to do, more to learn, and so we might as well enjoy the journey because there are worse journeys to be on.

4) Shake it up

Test yourself, all the time. Every one of our minds works and learns in slightly different ways, and mine in particular benefits a lot from remaining very non-static in my practice approach. If I’m getting stuck on articulation for too long, I like to try and make it through a couple of forms of a blues or Giant Steps, or try scales in 10ths for a change, or try an arpeggiated sequence in a way I haven’t ever played before. Don’t think about it too hard, just play and see what happens. You won’t always get a lot of time in some musical situations to adapt to a strange request or a sudden change of plans, and by practising mental versatility, adaptability is slowly bred.

I always come back to words from veteran Melbourne woodwind artist John Barrett if I get overwhelmed by what’s coming up: “From the teeth back, the blow is the same.” He’s right, of course. A flute and an oboe and a bassoon are all the same basic tube; all involve the same fundamental six fingers covering holes with variations on a theme when thumbs and pinkies are involved, and playing all of them take the same amount of control and discipline. If my knives are sharp, if I’m breathing correctly and have my ears in the right place, I’ll usually be okay.

Practise is making sure that I’m as good as I can be, for as much of the time as I possibly can be. It’s the doorway into bigger and better things, and so it has to be sacred. Although I might be getting a bit better at the clarinet or the flute every time I walk into the practice room, I know for certain that I’ll be getting better at music every time I play, so long as my knives are sharp. Keep them sharp, my friends, and don’t stop playing.

My Rehearsal Room: Mark Sadka

I consider myself a professional musician. At the age of 24, I have been playing music for 20 years and received my first professional gig 10 years ago. Since then I have commenced multiple international tours with various professional groups, ranging from Two Steps from Hell in America to the Royal Melbourne Philharmonic Orchestra here in Australia. I play several instruments, but my primary focus has been the violin which I am very partial to. In my experience with music, there are few things of which I do not possess vast knowledge of. Recently, I commenced heavy study at the University of Melbourne starting my concurrent degrees of Masters of Management and a Diploma of Arts, and I have encountered a unique problem: how do you study or work in a separate area full time while continuing to maintain a professional performing career? Using my previous knowledge and experience, I have been able to address this problem with several key points to help me maintain a high level of performing, as well as achieving good grades. These points can be summarized in one sentence: “Learn how you learn.”

The human brain is a fascinating organ. It has capabilities far beyond our understanding, and adaptive abilities that are consistently changing to suit our needs on a subconscious level. If a person knows how the brain generally processes new information and how their individual brain best processes knowledge, then they will be able to gain clear advantages in achieving their study and practice goals. For example, it has been proven in multiple studies that the human brain starts to lose focus after 10 minutes of repetitive action. If we take this number and consider the hours of practice generally necessary for an serious musician (say, three hours a day minimum), we will find that our brains are commonly on ‘autopilot mode’ and are not clearly focused by the end of our practice session. This means that our practice will be wasted in comparison to having clear focus, and is the reason why they give us breaks at the halfway point in most three hour lectures at university. Ten minutes of clear concentrated practice is generally more valuable than one entire hour of being zoned out. Using this basic system, I vary my practice to never go for much longer than 10 minutes on one particular objective. I plan my practice sessions out so that I can return to the previous goals later on in the same session, which leads to two very clear advantages. The first and most obvious is that no time is wasted, because I am constantly focused on what I am trying to do when my concentration is renewed as I change what I am working on, and thus never become distracted or zoned out.

The second advantage is based on the ‘theory of relearning’. In high school, I took a class in psychology (yes, being a nerd and actually learning something has helped me in life!) where I was taught about this theory. The relearning method states that as time passes, the memory nodes in our brain deteriorate and thus we begin to forget stuff. This is one of the reasons why continuous practice is essential for any serious musician. When we return to a deteriorated memory we will learn it faster, because not all of the information will have been forgotten. The math suggests that it takes approximately half the time to relearn what we are focused on. When I first learned a G major scale, it took approximately 10 minutes for me to roughly play through the whole scale as a child. Because I have forgotten and relearned the scale thousands of times by this point in my career, I am able to ‘learn it’ very quickly as a result - each time I relearned the scale, the amount of time spent in total was halved. So, if I begin a practice session starting with a scale, then moving on to repertoire, then returning to said scale, not only will I have forgotten the scale and have to relearn it, but it will take half the time to relearn the scale as well. No time is wasted, and your concentration is always at 100% focus because you never give yourself a chance to zone out. This is also a major preventative measure in practicing something incorrectly, which is very easy to do when you zone out and will make it necessary to unlearn what you have learned incorrectly.

The largest advantage you can give yourself, however, is by knowing how you learn personally as an individual. I learned violin through the Suzuki method. This method has been argued by many as having both good and bad points. It focuses on learning through playing pieces and by hearing them constantly. Due to this method, I am especially adept at learning by hearing the piece I am trying to perfect, which means I know exactly what I need to do in order to play it, thus saving me an immense amount of time. This knowledge allows me to plan my practice sessions in great detail to keep up with the large amount of work that is required. Balance and self-discipline are essential characteristics and qualities that any serious musician will need to enhance their practice. The only way I am able to truly keep up with both a Masters course and a Diploma as well as practice is by planning exactly what must be required far in advance, which leads me to the next point that I must bring up. Professional groups such as the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra, Orchestra Victoria, and the National Orchestra of America, will have no tolerance for anyone that is not able to play the repertoire at a professional level. The best way to keep up with this level is to focus on parts of the repertoire that are especially difficult for you as an individual. Because I know that I personally struggle more with techniques that are heavily dependent on the right hand, I can break down enormous amounts of work and focus on smaller passages that I will need to practice in greater detail.

The last thing that I must mention is the danger with using the method above. I remember once I practiced a particularly challenging passage for hours for a rehearsal the next day. I spent maybe 8-10 hours practicing for my first rehearsal with Orchestra Victoria to be as prepared as possible, so I would hopefully fit in with all the amazing musicians in the group. The orchestra got to the part, we played it through, and I nailed it. The conductor then looked at the violins and said, “I don’t like that. Please do it with more staccato”. I was unable to play the passage for the rest of the rehearsal because I could not play it any other way than how I practiced it. I had to spend maybe 20 hours changing the passage by resetting what I had already accomplished, which was almost double my original amount of practice time. The best advice that any musician can receive, and that I was told years ago, is to find the balance between your work and your practice and to never learn anything in a permanent manner. It is a very fine line in which you can both over and under practice to detrimental effects. This does not even take into consideration the kind of performance you are doing, such as solo or orchestral. I am only able to keep up with this intense workload because I “learnt how I learnt”, and I highly recommend you do the same.

My Rehearsal Room: Stuart Andrew

I’m going to level with you—I didn’t really start taking my studies in music seriously until six months out from my undergraduate auditions. I never really considered, in my youth, that music was something to study or pursue further than VCE Music Performance or my Grade 8 AMEB. An offhand comment from a friend led to a change of heart in the eleventh hour of my VTAC applications and I haven’t ever looked back.

I mean, I’d seen the MSO and listened to classical music radio; I knew that you could take music to a high level of artistry—I just didn’t know how and, frankly, didn’t really think it was within me to get that proficient.

The way I approached practice at the time meant it certainly wasn’t in me to achieve anything more than a bare pass in “Piano for Leisure” Seventh Grade (which, amazingly, is currently the highest musical qualification I have obtained).

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m not coming at you with a long history of great and prodigious musical success, in fact, I’ve had my fair share of pretty embarrassing failures. I’m just an average guy, with average Bachelor of Music struggles. What I’ve learnt has been through my own investigation and the advice I have received from teachers and other musicians, all of which has taken me from “Pretty Mediocre” to “Not Half Bad”.

Studying music at a University is not as different to studying other, more ‘normal’ degrees as you might think. The content is different but the structure of a degrees is generally split up into class time and private study. Where arts students may have giant piles of readings and research to do for every essay and science students have to write reports after spending hours in the lab, music students should spend their non-class time practicing.

Practice is everything. I was trying to think of a long-winded, somewhat-philosophical (read as: pretentious) opener about practice, but I really can’t put it any other way. Practice is everything. Without it you cannot succeed. No amount of lessons, lectures, aural training, theory knowledge, music history, or masterclasses can save you from certain and abysmal failure if you do not practice.

It sounds obvious. It is.

You’ll get told this by everyone, all the time. You’re getting told this by me, right now. Your teacher has probably repeated it in your last lesson. Your instrument coordinator probably signs off emails smugly with “now, go and do some practice” (assuming they’re hip and young enough to email). You’ve probably heard it enough times to never, ever want to practice again.

What I’m going to do is recount how I feel about and approach practice at the end of my undergraduate studies and talk about the principles I’ve discovered and why they work for me—Original, I know. Hopefully you’ll be able to get the tools you need to develop and grow an effective and tailored practice regime. In a certain contradiction to the “do what I do” vibe of this article, I want to start with the idea that Everyone is Different.

Or Just Because They do it and They’re Really Good Does Not Mean it Works for You. We think differently. We have different thought processes and we conceptualise in different ways. Some people are wired to think in pictures, while others can recall information like Google but couldn’t tell you which direction Federation Square is. I can remember everything about someone’s personality and character, but I cannot recall basic facts about their identity (say, my mother’s birthdate) without consulting their Facebook profile (sorry, mum). Practice is the same—everyone must do it differently.

Some people can look at a score, memorise the music, and then play it from memory with perfect or near-perfect recall. I need to rehearse the physical motion of accurately playing my instrument at least five times, at three different practice sessions before I can confidently declare a passage memorised. I’d be lucky to memorise even a four bar melody unless I play it this way. Some musicians will always sing “Do” as the pitch of C, where others will sing “Do” to the tonic. Some memorise the melody and then the harmony, some memorise the harmony and then the melody.

I know a trombonist who will memorise two bars of a hundred-and-something bar part and then learn the other bars of his part by comparing them to the first two bars and noting the differences. Similarly there is an honours level pianist who cannot read music and therefore learns music by ear and by rote only.

I know pianists who can’t start the day without playing their Hanon exercises. I know world-class piano teachers who will also insist on this practice. Yet, at the instruction of my world-class piano teacher, I have never played a Hanon exercise (Piano is stupid).

Possibly hundreds of different ways to practice will be thrown at you in your first years of study. Not all of them are going to work and you need to be able to recognise how you learn music and select the practice techniques that work most effectively in tandem with your psyche. Synergise your practice techniques!

But please Try Everything New (or Just Because They do it and They’re Really Good is the Perfect Reason to Do It). Examining my own technique I’ve begun to think that never playing Hanon might not have been as effective as my piano teacher led me to believe. A current Beethoven sonata I’m learning has a particularly dextrous section for the left hand and I’m honestly in struggle town. Other pianists who play their finger exercises seem to have less trouble with similar sections. Maybe assigning ten minutes a day to the first few exercises in the book might not be a bad idea to improve the strength and facility of my left hand and arm muscles. Who knows? It’s worth a try.

It’s good, I find, to think about the first two principles working together rather than against each other. While it is important to try every practice method to see if there’s a better way to play, it is just as important to be super critical about what your doing in you precious, precious practice time. Anything that doesn’t see you practicing at your peak (so that you can perform at your peak) should be abandoned as soon as you realise it’s worthless to you.

Frequency. Be frequent. It took me forever to realise that practicing for an hour—yes, just one single hour—everyday was far more effective than one three-hour session every three days. Even better is forty minutes in the morning and thirty minutes at night. The more frequently you practice, the better you play.

Consider cycling: People who cycle everyday are generally pretty good cyclists. This is because the cycling-related muscles have strengthened due to regular intense use, and the mental processes involved with cycling (including sense of balance, traffic awareness, taste in lycra couture, and general cycling skill) are exercised every day. It’s common sense that if a regular cyclist took an extended break from cycling (say, due to illness) and then returned after ten or so days they would find the task a little more challenging than usual. They’d need to get ‘back in the groove’, as it were.

Horowitz himself said that if he did not practice for twenty-four hours he could sense his ability slipping, and if it got to a week of no practice his audiences began to notice.

The ideal would be serious and considered practice for at least two sessions every twenty-four hours. Six hour days (at least) would be my goal. Still, that’s not possible everyday and I totally understand that.

What you need to have, at the bare minimum, is regular contact with your instrument. Even if you just play for fifteen minutes that’s better than not doing anything. I was told recently that what sets the real achievers in music apart is that they know the value of fifteen minutes is almost as great as the two hours we usually like to spend. I believe that.

How to use this time: if your music isn’t perfect yet (especially with something like the piano) the temptation can be there to not feel like you have anything to play unless you’re well over halfway through learning a piece. Not true. You can isolate out the melody and practice your phrasing. You’ve probably got scales, arpeggios, or long tones. Old repertoire and sight-reading practice can also be excellent here. You never have nothing to play.

Additionally, if you’ve got a “twenty-minute problem” (like one note that you keep missing) or task (like play your étude three beats per minute faster than yesterday) than you could do that because that’s better than just sitting and playing scales without really thinking.

The bottom line is be sure that you play your instrument often. It might feel like you haven’t got time but the next time you sit down to play after a long break you will be kicking yourself because your fingers will feel like molasses. Be prepared and willing to make (reasonable!) sacrifices for your practice.

The second last thing I want to mention is Look After Yourself. Do not play through pain. During physical exercise, your muscles build up lactic acid and this will start to burn around that area (literally “feel the burn”). This is a good feeling (citation needed) but your body reaches a point where the pain signal changes and you know that it is important that you stop the activity immediately.

This is similar for practice. Some of the very physically demanding repertoire for piano (for example, Chopin’s Étude Opus 10, No. 12) will of course leave you feeling tired and fatigued after an at-tempo performance. The nature of the piece though means the risk of muscular/tedonal injury is quite high and at all times you are playing works like this you should be monitoring your body for any signs that you are doing damage.

Do not let over-zealous or careless practice be responsible for a performance inhibiting injury. If a piece is a risk plan to build it very slowly and carefully. Your body is what you use to perform music and care of it is absolutely paramount. If you are unsure of the risks of a work or a technique, talk to your teacher.

And on that note: take care of yourself outside the practice room. Make sure you keep yourself physically and mentally healthy enough to do the work you want to do. Hydrate regularly, sleep appropriately, eat well, take regular breaks, and all that other self-care jazz. Your body is a nuanced and unique machine and you are most familiar with how to care for it. Keeping the machine in top condition produces top results.

I feel like I’ve been skirting around my final point for this whole article but I made the decision to keep until the end. If your attention has wandered here is where I recommend you start paying attention again, because it all comes together: Think.

There’s a brain in your skull. Inside it is everything you know about music. The more you access and tend to this repository the easier it is to unlock the higher levels of musicianship we’re all aiming for.

The only way you can get there is by thinking. All of the advice that I have given you so far is predicated on active mental function. If you don’t think when you practice you won’t think when you perform, and that’s a guaranteed disaster.

Where the problem lies with correcting this is that it is inherently impossible to realise when you’re not thinking. You can’t really stop yourself from zoning out; you only realise you lost focused after you “snap out of it”.

To help reduce the chances of zoning out happening make sure you review your practice and consider it right before your next session. After a session (or even halfway through) critically assess whether or not you are practicing at your peak. If you need help monitoring the quality of your practice keep a journal or diary and try and answer these questions:

What is it that you need to change to work more effectively? Have you achieved concrete progress? Are you hydrated? Can you remember what your teacher said? Are you following their instructions? What would you teacher say if they heard or saw you do that? Were you thinking while you were playing? Is what you are doing working for you and can you identify why/why not? How many hours did you sleep last night? Are you on track for your performance deadline(s)? Are you focused on your goals?

Practice is the fundamental of what we do. The better you practice the better musician you are. It’s a dynamic and evolving activity: constant evaluation and appropriate change should be a long-term feature of your process. You shouldn’t be doing the same practice you were doing six months ago. If you are then, frankly, you’re probably not improving (Don’t stress so much about this, just talk to your teacher about ways to kick-start your practice)

You’ve made the decision to work as a musician and now you’ve got to work as a musician. Think about what kind of musician you want to be, think about why you want to be that, and then think about how you’re going to get there.

Now, go and do some practice.