Let me tell you a fairy tale. It’s probably familiar. Once upon a time, there was a talented musician. Their family was almost certainly poor. When they were a small child, their parents noticed with astonishment that they could sing back entire complex melodies before they could even really walk.
It’s that time of year again, and I’m back in the stunning surroundings of north Yorkshire for the 2016 Ryedale Festival. Better still, I’ve been working again with the wonderful Heath Quartet in four concerts, presenting the entire late Beethoven quartets in tandem with T.S. Eliot’s Four Quartets, read with
One of the things I enjoy most about my freelancing lifestyle is the sheer variety of repertoire that I’m able to engage with on a week-to-week basis. I might be teaching Schubert Lieder in one place; late nineteenth-century chamber music somewhere else; write programme notes on the music of James
Let’s hear it for the audience. For all those people who, in pursuit of the magical experience that is hearing music live, will cough up sometimes sizeable ticket fees, book babysitters, dash from work and wolf down a sandwich on the train, battle with difficult parking or stump across grassy
‘We all want to research, to discover,’ Elliot continued, puffing lazily on his pipe. ‘When what we really ought to do is simply remind people. They seem to forget so much, so very quickly.’ No, it’s not a line from some extremely distinguished author. I wrote that. Maybe one day
