Integral to this stage of developing a young musician’s career is their instrumental teacher – someone who provides inspiration, guidance, musical expertise and often an approach to performing that has been handed down from one generation to the next.
 
It was with great sadness that I read this morning on a flight from London about the severe cuts the Australian National University is making to its revered School of Music. Flying in the face of logic, a decision to remove one-on-one tuition seems to me to be taking away the most essential and important aspect of a classical musician’s training. It’s not unlike removing the practical component in the training of a surgeon. A decision of this magnitude sends a destructive message that we no longer value the study of classical music enough to invest in it for future Australian students.
 
My own cello teacher in Sydney, Georg Pedersen, had an enormous impact on my career, not just as a musician but as a mentor. He instilled in me an approach to performance that could be traced back through generations of cellists throughout Europe and the close contact I had with him is irreplaceable. The importance of one-on-one tuition for music students is undeniable and goes to the very fabric of the artform.
 
While I understand the inherent constraints and difficulties in trying to fit the study of music into a university-style curriculum, to conform to a “one style fits all” approach is taking away the individuality that is so incredibly important in music. With the one-on-one tuition and dedicated theory classes being cut, the Head of School, Professor Adrian Walter is offering so-called compensation in the form of a “professional development allowance” which can go towards external private lessons or, even less immediate, lessons via video conferencing. All this is somewhat inadequate, covering only half of the vital training a student would have received prior to these changes.
 
Lastly, I send my condolences to the staff and students of the School of Music. Not only does this decision send a strongly negative message about the university’s approach to classical music, but it undermines the efforts of those dedicated people who have enriched the faculty over the years. I have many fond memories spending time at the ANU School of Music as a member of the Australian Youth Orchestra and at various National Music Camps. Many of the finest Australian musicians who I admire, and in some cases am lucky enough to call my colleagues, received excellent training in Canberra from distinguished instrumental teachers. It’s disappointing that future generations may now not receive such opportunities in our nation’s capital.

124 young musicians from across the globe will come together in July, led by acclaimed conductor Sir Mark Elder in a thrilling program of Britten, Mahler, Shostakovich and Stravinsky. Performances will take place in a number of European locations including the Amsterdam Concertgebouw and Ingolstadt’s Audi Festival, culminating in a final performance in London at Royal Albert Hall. 

This past week I’ve been fortunate to get a glimpse into this exciting project as a member of the Britten-Pears Orchestra. A steady stream of media has filtered through the small town of Aldeburgh to catch a glimpse of rehearsals and a 40-piece contingent of the Aldeburgh World Orchestra (AWO… Though not to be confused with the Australian World Orchestra!), which has come together to perform Beethoven’s Ninth under maestro Antonello Manacorda. Auditions for AWO took place via YouTube and i’m told the cello section alone will be featuring people from 10 different countries including Palestine, Russia, UK and the USA.

If you’re struck by the similarities with last year’s YouTube Symphony Orchestra (YTSO) project in Sydney, you’re not alone. Musicians auditioned for both orchestras via YouTube; they were flown to one location with a stellar cast of professionals to assist them and a high-profile conductor to lead them. What sets the projects apart? YTSO’s audition process was in two rounds, most notably one of these being by public vote. It was open to all ages and enjoyed Internet giant Google’s generous support. AWO’s audition process, on the other hand, was via a private YouTube video to an expert panel that hand-picked the musicians who would form the orchestra. Organisers of AWO from the Britten-Pears Program set an age limit of 30 years, reflecting their focus on nurturing and developing artistic talent. YTSO took place over a period of one week in one city, Sydney; AWO will be a two-week residency in the beautiful town of Aldeburgh, making use of the world-class facilities at Snape Maltings. The residency will be followed by a European tour featuring performances in Snape, Ingolstadt, Amsterdam and London.

With extraordinary efforts behind the scenes over a number of years to get this project in motion, it won’t be long now until the organisers of the Aldeburgh World Orchestra see their vision become reality. For us, the musicians, July couldn’t come soon enough!

It’s been an unusual morning. Unusual for the water taxi driver, who probably doesn’t get “follow that barge!” fares very often. Unusual for the photographers jostling one another on deck, who are probably more used to issuing directions like “give me poutier lips” than “hold the boat straight” and “put her on her bow so she’s coming at us with the Opera House behind her”. And an unusual sight to behold on Sydney Harbour: a gargantuan 9m-high chandelier, its 10,000 Swarovski crystal elements glinting in the weak early morning sun as it was ferried underneath the Harbour Bridge to its resting place at Mrs Macquarie’s Chair. There, it will be the centerpiece of Opera Australia’s outdoor La Traviata extravaganza, suspended in mid-air by a crane sitting on its own barge next to the main stage. “Then,” says one female publicist wistfully, “I think we have to give all the crystals back.”

Meanwhile, the other publicist is having harsh words with the weather. She raises her arms to the heavens in frustration: we need skies of brilliant azure, not limp grey clouds, to set off the Swarovski sparkle and trigger the inevitable oohing and ahhhing. “Can we just photoshop the sun in?” she calls out. It’s still an impressive image: more like an ostentatious Mardi Gras float or the Priscilla bus than the simple transportation of a prop from A to B. The chandelier’s minder Brian, in his tough work boots and high-visibility jacket, looks proud as punch to be on the barge as part of the spectacle. And eventually the sun does emerge, briefly, to kiss the bling.

When we arrive at Mrs Macquarie’s Chair, Brian scrambles to the peak of the chandelier – since soprano Emma Matthews will have to do something similar in the production night after night, I hope she’s not scared of heights! – and hooks it up to a crane. As it’s slowly lifted, the driver of our boat cuts the engine so that the only sound that remains is the lapping of water and the hull scraping against the jetty (I picked up some nautical terminology on this excursion). I find myself wishing we could hear the toasting aria from La Traviata at this triumphant moment, but perhaps a blast of Bernstein’s Glitter and Be Gay or even Ride of the Valkyries would have sufficed. And suddenly the chandelier is hanging in the air, and we’re on our way back to the pier in The Rocks. The next time I see it, it will be part of an operatic oasis shimmering in the night sky, with a round of fireworks in case 10,000 crystals aren’t quite exciting enough.

Even from a distance, one marvels at the work that went into creating this monolith. We’re advised that 40 Swarovski crystals adorn each glass orb, with no fewer than 150 orbs clustered around the structure. It was too big to be assembled in the Opera Australia studios so most of the construction took place in Melbourne before finishing touches could be added in Sydney. Showy extravagance on this scale doesn’t guarantee good theatre or singing – that remains to be seen when Opera Australia’s La Traviata opens on March 24. But it’s certainly worth a champagne toast – the only thing missing from my boating jaunt this morning.

Joshua Bloom (Figaro) and Taryn Fiebig (Susanna) (Photo: Branco Gaica/Opera Australia)

You previously sang Figaro for Opera Australia in Neil Armfield’s production. How different has the experience with this new production been?

The two productions could not be more dissimilar. While I have worked with Neil in the past and he is a wonderful director and terrific colleague, he was not available to revive his Figaro when I performed in it in 2007. So doing a new production with Benedict Andrews has been a completely different experience. Aesthetically Benedict’s production is starker, and it is darker in mood than Neil’s. The rehearsal process was quite intense and challenging too, but also rewarding. Audiences seem to be responding to the new production with great enthusiasm.

Having sung Mozart in both Italian and English, what do you think are the challenges – and advantages – of singing in the language of the audience?

I find singing in English very difficult – the vowel sounds and more percussive consonants of English do not make life easy, and it takes a lot of work and lateral thinking to get the right sort of vocal colour, especially compared to singing the amazing Da Ponte libretto of Figaro. I personally much prefer performing the piece in the original Italian, but there is certainly something to be said for the immediacy of communicating the story in the audience’s native language.

You’re enjoying an international career now, while still returning regularly to Opera Australia. How important is it to you to strike that balance? What logistical challenges does it bring?

I have been very fortunate in the last few years to have been asked to return to Australia to perform on a fairly regular basis. I love spending time here, and my family is still in Melbourne, so getting to see them and my Australian friends is a huge bonus. A freelance career has advantages – you get to see amazing places and meet and work with wonderful people. The downsides are being away from my home in San Francisco most of the time, insecurity of income, and the pressure it puts on relationships. As a lifestyle it is both stimulating and at times very lonely.

Can you tell us a bit about your experiences in the Merola Program and as an Adler Fellow? What did you gain from the program?

I cannot speak highly enough of the San Francisco Opera Center. My time there exposed me to singing and coaching at the highest level, and I think any singer improves most rapidly by being on stage with artists who are at the top of their profession. You learn so much from your more experienced colleagues. I also fell in love with San Francisco as a city, and it is now the place I miss most when I am away from it for any period of time.

What advice/encouragement would you give to any young Australian singers interested in an American young artist program?

It is difficult for foreigners working in the US. I am extraordinarily lucky to have a father who is American, so I didn’t have to jump through the hoops that other Australians have to deal with when trying to make a career there. Having said that, the Merola Program accepts singers from all over the world (virtually the only American young artist program that does), and if you manage to score a place it is potentially a gateway into professional work in the States, as well as being an invaluable experience for a young singer.

What have been the proudest moments of your career so far? What’s still on the to-do list – and what exciting future plans are you at liberty to reveal?

It’s very difficult to single out specific moments as being highlights. I am always very proud and excited to work at the Met, and I can’t remember being more excited than when I was informed that I had made it into the Merola Program in San Francisco. Some of the greatest pleasure I have had working anywhere has been with the New York Philharmonic. I have done two fully staged productions with them, and their musical director Alan Gilbert and his regular artistic partner Doug Fitch are two of the most delightful and high-powered artistic personalities in the business. There are a number of exciting things coming up for me, most of which I can’t mention in print just yet, but I can say that I’m looking forward very much to my LA Opera debut and to doing Leporello with the wonderful Garsington Opera in the UK later this year.

Opera Australia’s The Marriage of Figaro runs in Sydney until March 24. Further information and bookings here. London-based fans can also see Joshua Bloom next month as Algie in Gerald Barry’s new operatic adaptation of The Importance of Being Earnest at the Barbican.

Michael Lewis as Count Almaviva

Without giving any secrets away, can you tell us a bit about Benedict Andrews’ production? How have Count Almaviva and the concept of droit du seigneur been adapted to a modern setting?
As the reviews are in, and most of the issues peculiar to this new production have been freely discussed, I can say that in essence, the droit du seigneur, has been largely ignored. Yes, we refer to it in the text, but we play with the inevitability of a man wielding absolute power, to have what he wants at any time. The environment of the setting highlights the emotional and sexual tensions that exist across the social layers within a close-knit community.

How do you think Australian audiences are responding to the English translation? Is it a challenge learning new words to music you already know well – and does the English text make a difference to the way you sing it?
The audiences are responding wonderfully to the English. It might have been advantageous to have a new translation, which could have served this production better, but it is working well. I have always been in favour of performing comic operas in audience language. It always works better for performers and audience alike.

Yes, it is a challenge to learn a new translation. I performed the famous Dent translation in my youth, and it is amazing and frustrating how readily it keeps coming to mind. The biggest challenge in the singing is the scanning of the text in recitatives. Mozart’s recitative writing was brilliant for language pulse, and therefore comprehension, but too often that pulse is severely compromised by the English translation.

You’re especially renowned for your portrayals of the great Verdi baritone roles. How do their vocal and dramatic demands differ from those of a role like Almaviva? Is there any common ground?
The common ground is of course the adherence to one’s vocal technique. Almaviva sits much lower in the voice, which isn’t exactly more comfortable for me. I certainly don’t get to use the so-called money notes very often, and for that reason it is easier to sing. The drama is much faster paced than Verdi pieces, and comes at you in a rush in Figaro. Concentration is paramount. I’ve certainly never hidden in a washing machine in a Verdi opera… Yet!

You must have sung Almaviva in quite a variety of productions by now. Are there any which stand out as particularly memorable? (Either for good reasons or bad!)
I made my debut in Figaro in 1979 for Opera North, as Figaro, and vocally gladly moved on to the Count in 1984 for OA. Apart from a disastrous missed stage call on my ’79 debut, which had a hilarious timing/text moment, I can honestly say, I enjoyed hugely the John Copley production for OA. John taught me, a Figaro by nature, to become a Count, and it has remained the cornerstone of my interpretation since.

What would you say to win over those who love the opera but might be wary of the modern production or the English translation?
This realisation has certainly struck a chord with the public. My instincts during rehearsal were that it would either be a huge success or a flop, and to be honest, we are having great fun performing it. It’s quirky at times, but it resonates with our times perfectly. Don’t be wary. Come see for yourself!

Opera Australia’s The Marriage of Figaro, starring Joshua Bloom (Figaro), Taryn Fiebig (Susanna), Michael Lewis (Count Almaviva) and Elvira Fatykhova (Countess Almaviva), is on at the Sydney Opera House until March 24th.

We had a fabulous time giving a masterclass to some local ensembles (including the Birili Blokes) and finishing our Australian leg of the tour in style. We even managed to squeeze in Land of Hope and Glory as an encore, complete with flag-waving and whatnot… You would’ve forgiven anyone for thinking they were at a Last Night of The Proms concert! With conductor Barrie Gott at the helm we were in good hands, and I hope Brisvegas music lovers keep supporting the terrific group of musicians at the Queensland Pops Orchestra.

As I mentioned in my first blog, I distinctly remember the aerial view of the Southern Alps as I left the land of the long white cloud back in June 2010. Upon re-entry to New Zealand for The King’s Singers concerts here, I was greeted by a lovely Auckland day across the Waitakere Ranges and all the little inlets and bays that dot the Manukau Harbour. It was a really special feeling and I couldn’t wait to be surrounded by people that really knew how to pronounce English! We had a busy 24-hour stopover in Auckland with media appointments for national TV and radio. I enjoyed getting to meet the presenters I’d watched and listened to for years. Heaps of friends and family from around NZ were able to see and hear the group “live” in the comfort of their own homes.

Then it was off to Hamilton, otherwise known as HamilTron or the Tron “city of the future”… Perhaps a little harsh on traditionally what has been a largely farming-based community. It has certainly smartened up since I last visited and has become a bit trendier. Still, its proximity to Auckland means that comparisons between the two have become a bit tongue-and-cheek! On the agenda in Hamilton was a masterclass (Waitomo Caves Choir, Mighty River Harmony and Hamilton Civic Choir), a sold-out concert in arguably the finest acoustics in the Southern Hemisphere at The Gallagher Performing Arts Centre at Waikato University, and a video shoot of some educational programs for The King’s Singers Foundation. All three went fantastically well and the standing ovations after each half of the performance was very special. A beautiful Maori love song, or waiata, was a particular hit with the audience, which included many singers from the masterclass, not to mention my godparents who’d come all the way from Waipukurau, and some other close family friends who have relocated to Hamilton because of the Christchurch earthquake. It was a poignant day for New Zealanders and particularly for Cantabrians, as it marked the one-year anniversary of the earthquake that claimed 185 lives. In memory of the lives lost and the trauma and devastation that still exists, we dedicated It’s a New World to them. Earlier in the day it was a moving experience for the guys when they came out of the hotel to observe a nationwide two-minute silence at 12.51pm.

I can’t wait to see my friends in the Cathedral Choir and at Burnside High School when I visit my father next week. I’m aware the city I remember is gone forever, but I’m encouraged and in awe of their determination to rebuild and move forward. Kia kaha, Christchurch!

My album divides itself up into three pretty clear chapters, and I’ve written three little spiels to introduce each chapter in turn. The other day I spent an hour with my dear friend, the sensationally talented Nadia Piave, working on delivery of these spoken texts. As I knew would be the case, Nadia asked me all the right questions, things that only proper actor/singer/performers would ask themselves in order to get inside each character: “Exactly who are you when you’re saying this? To whom are you saying it? How do you want to affect them? Why do you want to affect them in this way?”, and so and on and so forth. Her questions were forcing me to make the text “read” for an audience. It worked exactly the same way that it worked when Nadia and I were writing cabaret shows together, which had me feeling all nostalgic. I vowed then and there that she and I must start writing and performing together again. Very soon.

Anyway, the thing that stuck in my mind was Nadia’s definition of my album being “like an audio coffee-table book”. Now there’s a concept! While ordinary coffee-table books are full of pictures (which do indeed say a thousand words) and occasional commentary on those, my album is full of abstract sounds with occasional commentary to tie them all together into little naturally occurring narratives. I rather like that idea, not only because of the parallel nature of each medium’s implied storyline, but also because of the implied context of its appreciation i.e. I love the idea of somebody sitting down to relax with at least one full 23-minute chapter of my album and really escaping into the narrative, rather more like a talking book than an album of instrumental classical music.

In recent weeks, while preparing the music for the recording sessions, I’ve become extremely focussed on its abstract elements, the phrasing and dynamics and texture and shape. Of course I needed to do that in order to make the performances convincing and confident, but it’s really only a starting point. Now I think I finally know how opera singers must feel when preparing a role, as their process isn’t all that far from my process on this album. You must learn the music so well that you can just do it without needing to concentrate on how the rhythms go and what the notes are and what you need to do physically to create the right sounds. Once you’ve mastered those elements, then you’re ready to get inside the character and share their story. I have a newfound respect and admiration now for what opera singers do.

During the sessions last week, recording engineer Virginia Read also helped me enormously to focus on the raison d’être for the album. She listened to me rabbit on about Fellini’s women and underdogs and how socially awkward people suffer in the world and how I was going to let all these characters’ emotions grow through the music. She never complained once that I talk too much! Instead, she allowed me the time to talk through what I wanted to express and helped me to find exactly the right instrumental sound to achieve that expression. This means that sometimes the recorded sound is very spacious, a bona fide classical concert hall sound, and other times it becomes much more intimate, a more pop-music/small-room sound; whatever was needed to match the characters in the stories at that given moment. This will, I hope, help to put the listener in the world of the characters, the right social/historical period and the right emotional frame of mind.

Recently I started consolidating all my research on each individual story, analysing the characters’ motivations and the situations in which they find themselves, contextualising the use of the music in the films, and so on. I’ve read a number of published volumes on the films but I’ve also been doing a great deal of research online, watching YouTube videos, interviews with directors and actors and composers, reading IMDB articles and Rotten Tomatoes reviews… whilst they may not be the most reliable source material, they are certainly an excellent way of finding out what’s most important to me: how people feel about these films. After all, that’s what brought be to this project in the first place and I mean to stay true to that. The other thing I really love about this kind of research is the way that it is interactive. People comment online and leave long, heartfelt epistles on what they love about the films. These words are often just as fascinating as the materials about which they are written, and I would like to incorporate reactions to the stories into the mix here. But how?

Technology. These days, access to information is becoming increasingly immediate. Our portable devices can bring so much information to us with just a few taps on a touchscreen, something that even 10 years ago may have seemed impossible to most ordinary folk. So I’m considering the development of an iPhone/iPad/Android App (or even just a website dedicated to the album and compatible with multiple types of devices) to bring links to all this information into a hub of sorts – those reviews, interviews and articles in audio, video and text formats and, perhaps most importantly, a place for anyone to share their stories and feelings about these things. Wouldn’t that be fun?

This is more than an album to me. It’s a very personal story from a 21st-century troubadour. Don’t worry, you won’t need to go searching too hard. Just sit tight and I’ll bring the story to you.

The subtle accents we added to the Australian songs were commented on favourably, so that was nice to hear. Being a Kiwi, I feel I had a head-start on the other guys and had fun playing language coach. In terms of the “English” repertoire, it’s been easier than I thought to match the vowels, since in New Zealand one is taught NOT to sing like a Kiwi – my upbringing as a Cathedral Chorister and member of both the New Zealand Secondary Students’ Choir and National Youth Choir certainly drummed that in! Not to mention a Vocal Performance degree under the watchful eye of Dame Malvina Major and Vernon Midgley, who never allowed me to get away with anything but the very best “Queen’s English”!

Melbourne, take two, was the following night and we performed an almost entirely different program. This time our theme was “Byrd to Bublé”, moving from madrigals and sacred English works to Spain and Portugal with Alonso de Alba’s La Tricotea Samartin (a sailor’s drinking song with plenty of colourful language!) and La Bomba, Mateo Flecha’s fine example of a form of humourous ballad known as the Ensalada (literally, a “mixed salad”), a hybrid of folksongs, sacred and secular influences, all mixed together to tell the story of a group of sailors whose ship is sinking… And who can’t swim!

The feeling of the group was that Melbourne was a place they could all spend more time in, and I would have to agree. It’s certainly my favourite Australian city! The weather was superb and the Southbank vibe is so infectious and positive. See you again soon, Melbourne!

The Sydney Opera House
Where does one begin? As one of the most recognisable landmarks in Australia and one of the most revered venues on the international concert circuit, I can’t begin to tell you what a privilege it was to perform there last night… Extraordinary! Arguably the highlight of the tour to date. Chris and Tim commented after the show that it was one of the finest concerts they’d ever been a part of in all their years with the group. Paul now has some admiring fans, that’s for sure!

In the second half we were delighted to present an Australian work, River’s Lament, by local composer Elena Kats-Chernin. This work in four movements, with text by the American artist and poet Charles Anthony Silvestri, tells the story of a river from its formation (“I am born where clouds descend to kiss the mountain top”) to a celebration of its life-giving wonder (“I am the thread that binds all creation”). It was a lovely moment when Elena came out to take a bow and kiss each one of us on the cheek. Then it was time to put our music stands away and sing our customary close harmony set, complete with a playful rendition of Obladi Oblada as encore.

I’m feeling really settled in the group – they’ve made it easy to fit in and the social side of things is wonderful. We all get on well and I know this journey is going to be fantastic. Bring on Brisbane!

The King’s Singers’ latest album High Flight is reviewed in the March issue of Limelight, on sale now. For your chance to win a King’s Singers 5-CD prize pack enter our competition.

The King's Singers in Sydney, 1972

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