REVIEW: Duo Eunoia


Rating: 4 out of 5.

Perfect for a spring afternoon


On Sunday, 22nd March, Duo Eunoia brought the Royal Albert Hall’s Classical Coffee series to a close. This renowned programme is part and parcel of the venue’s long-standing partnership with the Royal College of Music, offering audiences a chance to hear young talent perform in an intimate setting. Coffee and pastries are served in the Elgar Room as you settle into the programme of your choice, sipping a hot drink with a view of Kensington Gardens’ opulent Albert Memorial. It is a charming activity for a lazy weekend in the city.

Duo Eunoia is especially well-suited to this kind of event. Comprising violinist Inês Delgado and pianist Laura Casas Cambra, the duo specialises in softer performances that nurture imagination and connection. Their name, ‘eunoia’, is of Ancient Greek origin, and translates as ‘beautiful thinking’ or a ‘well mind’. It reflects ‘the beauty of a harmonious and positive outlook on life, marked by receptivity, goodwill, and kindness towards others’, all of which were palpable in their performance. Duo Eunoia’s stage dynamic was warm and inviting throughout, ideal for the concert-lecture format.

Their programme this Sunday included a range of pieces: some by household names such as Maurice Ravel and Enrique Granados, and others by lesser-known or contemporary composers such as Isobel Dunlop and Marika Takeuchi. Inês and Laura introduced each of them beautifully, bringing to life the mystical desert that inspired Elena Kats-Chernin’s Bucharian Melody, the whimsical Alice in Wonderland scenes illustrated by Roxana Panufnik’s Down the Rabbit Hole, and Carlos Paredes’ nostalgic reminiscences of youth in Verdes Anos.

Beyond simple scene-setting, Duo Eunoia also offered the audience intriguing technical insights. Before performing Violin Sonata M.77, II. Blues—Ravel’s response to the explosion of American jazz in 1920s Paris—Inês provided a brief demonstration of ‘strummed pizzicato’, a technique that allows the violin to imitate a guitar. Similarly, Laura explained the technical preparations required to perform Marika Takeuchi’s Memories. By applying white tack to the piano strings, she temporarily muted the keys to produce a muffled, woody tone. The percussive quality worked well for Takeuchi’s piece, immediately conjuring images of sleepy rainfall.

By the end of the programme, everyone was thoroughly relaxed. Both Inês and Laura are talented, expressive performers who clearly take great care in how they present the music and connect with the audience. Their Classical Coffee concert was a very human affair, and while much of their repertoire is lyrical, easy-listening music, sometimes that’s just what you fancy. After all, it’s better to save Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in C-sharp minor for those times when you aren’t holding a vanilla Danish and a latte!

Duo Eunoia ended its run on the 22nd of March. Tickets for other Royal Albert Hall shows can be found herehttps://www.royalalberthall.com/tickets

REVIEW: Anthracite Fields


Rating: 4 out of 5.

An immersive, sweeping historical tribute with an enduring presence


Julia Wolfe’s Pulitzer Prize-winning oratorio came to Manchester this weekend and did not disappoint. Anthracite Fields is the tale of and a memorial to American miners, with inspiration drawn from oral histories and Wolfe’s own upbringing in Pennsylvania, rich in deposits of pure coal.

The night began with Gabriela Lena Frank’s Jalapeño Blues, conducted electrically by Ellie Slorach. The piece, rooted in Latin American culture, was rich, playful, and the singers shone with comedic and technically varied elements. While it is important that a piece such as Jalapeño Blues be performed, it felt an odd choice for a majority white-passing chorus. Is it enough for the composer to have mixed heritage? Or should the BBC’s singers be more representative of the piece? Regardless, the chorus brought great passion and energy.

The world premiere of SCALLOP by Laura Bowler followed, conducted by John Storgårds. This piece brought a significant but necessary shift, with foreboding strings and loud dynamics. It felt like a good precursor to Anthracite Fields, building a sense of danger. The soundtrack of water reminded us nicely of the evening’s subject’s environmental aspect, though its volume was distracting.

Julia Wolfe’s Anthracite Fields was also conducted by John Storgårds, who drew out an incredible sound from both the choir and orchestra, and conducted with quiet grace and reserve.

To portray this story through an orchestra felt like an excellent choice to me. The chorus served as our miners, a mass of bodies, their voices uniting to mix beautifully. The orchestra was our machine, with groups of instruments moving in unison. The violins’ physicality was particularly suited to this, as their bows jutted out almost mechanically.

The first movement, Foundation, built momentum tactfully. I felt dragged on the descent into the mines with sliding strings and brass. At times, it felt like the orchestra was running away from Storgårds, which would normally seem like a criticism, but it worked for the message; the syncopation and staggered melodies built a chaotic, crowded atmosphere.

Breaker Boys was the standout piece for me. This was the most upbeat, with a female soloist telling us “the poor little breaker boys’ fate” throughout, with the gritty intonation of a young boy. The use of a modern drum kit brought a rock feel and added a youthfulness. The use of a bike chain delighted me, linking a childlike sense of play with mechanical whirring. Though the movement emphasised the mines’ use of child labour, it served as a sensitive tribute to their lives and contrasted well with the piece’s darker themes.

Speech provided useful context, though the words felt a little shoehorned as lyrics. The soloist was excellent, with a beautiful tone and soaring high notes, and the choir standing alongside the soloist brought a sense of community.

Flowers was a beautiful movement emphasising the environmental impact of the coal mining industry. The lighting was an almost blinding bright pink, which contrasted well with the ever-dimming lights as we descended into the mines throughout the other movements. Hope permeated this piece, that flowers could bloom despite the horrors below.

Appliances finished the piece well, ending with the chorus whistling. It is a profoundly human activity, and likely a way miners would have entertained themselves, yet felt almost soulless with its sustained, unchanging notes. It reminded us of the miners’ humanity but left us with a sense of dread, a reminder of both their legacy and trauma.

A rousing work of art, Anthracite Fields is a tragic tale of hardship, entwined with hope and humanity, and was performed with poise and respect.

This piece was performed for one night only on Saturday 21 March at Bridgewater Hall, Manchester.

FEATURE: 2026 Royal Philharmonic Society Awards

A year of classical music talent poignantly recognised in a spectacular ceremony.


The Royal Philharmonic Society Awards is a culmination of the year’s classical music talents, ranging from single performers, large-scale compositions and everything in between. The nominee list was so wide-ranging that it’s hard to know how they trimmed it to two hours.  

The guests looked resplendent, a compilation of metallics, colour and the best accessory of all, anticipation. Rerecorded for BBC3, the event went smoothly as butter, presented by effervescent hosts Georgia Mann and Petroc Trelawny. The awards were presented to their respective winners by RPS Chair Angela Dixon. 

A core theme throughout the proceedings was the need to nurture seeds of passion for classical music, regardless of background, and to pursue genres and instruments mainstream society often perceives as inaccessible or outdated. The nominees ranged in age, gender, region, disability, financial or professional status, evoking a sense of diversity that felt like galvanisation. Every single award clearly meant the world to everyone who won, but they all spoke of the constant hard work needed, the barriers they face and the village it takes to get them there. 

A standout moment was the recipient of the Singer award, soprano Louise Adler. She collected her award holding her 2-week-old newborn girl, Robin – an incredibly bold statement to make as she spoke of the troubles self-employed mothers face- she returns to singing next week. Another feminist nod went to trumpeter Matilda Lloyd, who used her speech for Young Artist to dedicate her award to all the women who face barriers in the brass band sector. Scottish organisations did well too, with the Royal Scottish National Orchestra winning the Ensemble Award, and Kirkcaldy Orchestral Society winning the Inspiration Award. 

Woven into the wonderful atmosphere were performances, in one case by Matilda Lloyd herself. The audience, despite coming from all corners of the UK (and beyond), felt like a catch-up with old friends. Strangers and collaborators alike, bound together by the power of their love of classical music and the genuine force for good it is capable of, in the RPS’s case, since 1813. The fabulous show was rounded off by the blisteringly talented musical polymath Jacob Collier, who won the coveted Gamechanger Award. Previous recipients have been organist Anna Lapwood and conductor Jane Glover. He bounded onto the stage with Steve Irwin energy and yellow Crocs. A multi-Grammy winner, he treated the audience to one of his famous crowd choirs as he conducted us to make beautiful, harmonious choral notes. Given the crowd, he’d picked a very pitch-perfect bunch to perform with. A wonderful finale as he deconstructed classics such as West Side Story’s ” Somewhere ” into a mellifluous melody.

Winners also included the host venue, Southbank Centre itself, for their Multitudes Series (Series and Events Award). An inspiring pair of winners were Sheffield-based Orchestras for All (Impact Award) and Glyndebourne’s Uprising (Opera and Music Theatre Award). The former focuses on bringing children of all backgrounds into the world of classical music, and the latter created a special opera involving more than 100 children to portray an epic tale of climate change. The meaningful ways in which classical music can bring people together and demonstrate how we feel about the world is evident now more than ever. The Royal Philharmonic Society Awards are a truly poignant recognition of those talents.

You can read more about the 2026 Royal Philharmonic Society Awards at https://royalphilharmonicsociety.org.uk/rps_today/news/2026-rps-awards-winners-announced

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Duo Eunioa


We sat down with Duo Eunioa for a quick chat about their upcoming performances at the Royal Albert Hall. For ticketing and info, please find here and here.


How do poetry and visual art shape the way you listen to each other as a duo, beyond simply influencing repertoire choices?

All art reshapes how we perceive the world, so it inevitably reshapes how we listen to one another. Poetry and visual art don’t just influence our repertoire choices; they shape the quality of our attention. We are both very visual thinkers, and when discovering new music, it often sparks vivid inner imagery (colours, landscapes, gestures…) which we share as a way of finding a shared emotional language. Instead of discussing only dynamics or articulation, we might ask: does this feel like shadow or light? If this melody was a person, how or who would they be? Poetry deepens that dialogue further. We reflect on why certain words move us so profoundly, and then ask how we can create an equally powerful emotional resonance through sound alone.

What does the idea of “eunoia” — beautiful thinking — mean to you in the context of a live performance?

Although eunoia (from ancient Greek) literally translates as “beautiful thinking,” for us it speaks more deeply of connection, about the harmony that arises when people meet with openness and empathy. In performance, it becomes an intention. We aim to create a space where listeners feel safe to experience the music in their own way, and where their reflections, emotions and imagery are welcomed rather than prescribed. It is about inviting presence in a world that so often encourages distraction, and encouraging connection: to ourselves, to one another, and to the moment we are sharing. And for us on stage, it also means granting each other the freedom to be fully authentic: to take risks, to listen generously, and to explore our creativity without fear.

In an intimate morning setting like the Elgar Room, how does the audience’s presence subtly alter your musical dialogue?

Intimate venues have always felt like home to us. In a smaller space, something softens, for performers and listeners alike. The atmosphere becomes less formal, less performative, and more human. We sense breathing, stillness, even subtle shifts in attention, and that awareness inevitably shapes how we play. It feels less like presenting something to an audience and more like experiencing something with them. As performers, we feel that the intimacy of a setting like the Elgar Room invites authenticity. When people feel at ease, the musical dialogue becomes more honest, spontaneous, and connected.

How do you balance inviting close, reflective listening while still allowing space for spontaneity and surprise in performance?

Playing together for five years has given us something invaluable: trust born of time shared. That shared history means we often anticipate one another instinctively. There are moments in rehearsal when one of us does something unexpectedly, and the other anticipates it, as if the thought had already been shared. Because we know each other so deeply, we can take risks safely. With repertoire that has grown familiar over the years, we feel free to play and reshape it differently each time. With new works, there is the thrill of discovery, especially as we’re drawn to music that is rarely performed, unrecorded, or that has been arranged by us. Without a blueprint to follow, we create from a “blank canvas”. Throughout it all, close, reflective listening remains our anchor, the foundation that allows spontaneity to flourish.

 What considerations go into shaping a relaxed performance so it remains artistically rich while being genuinely accessible?

For us, “relaxed” never means simplified; it means removing the fear of a “wrong” reaction. We want audiences to know they can move, respond and experience the music in ways that feel natural to them. By welcoming that freedom, we honour the diversity of how people listen and engage. Our work in community settings, from schools to dementia care homes and mental health facilities, has deeply shaped this approach. It has taught us to be adaptable and attentive, sometimes incorporating interactive elements, while still preserving the artistic integrity of the programme. Our spoken introductions remain central in all our performances, relaxed or not, offering context and invitation rather than instruction. We are naturally drawn to shorter pieces rich in imagery and atmosphere, which transcend background or training. In our experience, imagination is universal.

 As emerging artists, how do you see interdisciplinary inspiration helping redefine what a classical concert experience can be?

We love drawing inspiration from other disciplines, often designing performances and workshops that weave music with visual art, poetry, and mindfulness. These interdisciplinary elements enrich the experience, opening doors to imagination and emotional reflection. Yet, we are acutely aware of living in a world overflowing with constant input and distraction. Our goal is to slow down, offering audiences the chance to disconnect and be fully present. That’s why we are careful not to overwhelm the music with other forms. Music alone has a profound ability to reach the depths of the soul, and for that, full immersion is essential. Interdisciplinary inspiration becomes a support, not a distraction, guiding the listener toward presence, connection, and the transformative power of sound.

REVIEW: Guildhall Symphony Orchestra: The Rite of Spring


Rating: 5 out of 5.

“A spectacular student-led symphony that delivers textbook excellence”


This production showcases the absolute best of Guildhall School of Music and Drama students. Handily next door to the school itself, the space of the Barbican Hall affords the young performers a sublime platform. The hall is a large airy modern stage visible from every seat in the house, complimented by geometric patterns in its vertical wooden panels adorning the back walls of the stage adding visual interest but never distraction. The huge orchestra was laid out in classical chamber style, replete with a cor anglais, timpani drums and a French horn section side-eyeing the brass section, as is tradition. 

The show is opened up by a brief speech from composer Julian Anderson, himself a tutor at the school for nineteen years. He is clearly proud to work with and for these students. Unbeknownst to him, he was sat behind me in the audience afterward and I got to hear him occasionally mutter quiet compliments to the students throughout- a sweet hidden gesture in an otherwise intense program. The opening salvo is Anderson’s 2016 composition Incantesimi, apparently inspired by the quietness of the Quaker community; more sound and fewer notes. Five aural themes are woven throughout. The overall sound of the piece was astonishing. simultaneously anxiety-inducing and awesome. Strangely, it is described as and intended to be calming and “zen-like”. It rather sounded like the soundscape to a Hitchcock film. This is absolutely a compliment and a testament to the variety of interpretation. As shrieking strings merged with woodwind, the effect was of one of constant quiet dread building into smaller crescendos. It felt like an experimental score to a contemporary horror film, and became a clever counterpart to the two classical masterpieces that followed. 

Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet, a ballet so famous you’ve probably heard the seminal “Montagues and Capulets” section over a million adverts, opening title sequences and the backdrop to many a TV drama. A selection from Suites 1 and 2 showcase the terrific skills of the string section here, alongside the percussion section, complimented by two harpists. A standout segment was the “Death of Tybalt” sequence. A piece so zealous it felt like a circle pit would open up. There is something so special about watching musicians create atmosphere in front of your very eyes in real time; it really did remind me of a metal concert.

The second act was devoted to the entirety of Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring. A bassoon solo based on Lithuanian folk song opens up what is one of the greatest compositions of all time. In two parts- The Augurs of Spring and The Sacrifice, the whole piece feels galvanizing and magnetic. It is a melting pot of tonal shifts, rhythmically switching drumbeats and a wild melody. It was a visceral experience to watch the students emit such powerful sounds from their instruments in such a controlled way: each instrument a conduit for their enthusiasm and an extension of their individuality. 

The Guildhall Symphony Orchestra has put together a fine programme showcasing exceptional talent from its students, enabled by Kerem Hasan’s impeccable conducting. An invocation to the God of Spring may just be the perfect March ticket, and a hefty reminder that classical ballet compositions are certainly not a dying art, as a certain actor recently quipped. On the contrary, the Guildhall Symphony Orchestra, itself full of literal youth and vigour revitalises the intent behind each note and the skill required to reverberate it around the auditorium, capturing sonic moments that cannot be replicated outside of a shared live experience. 

This performance was for one night only, across multiple events throughout the Guildhall Symphony Orchestra’s Spring Programme. 

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Martin James Bartlett

We sat down for an exclusive interview with Martin James Bartlett. A winner of the BBC Young Musician of the Year in 2014, the British pianist also became the inaugural recipient of the Prix Serdang in 2022, a Swiss prize curated by Rudolf Buchbinder in recognition of the achievements of a promising young pianist while forging and international solo career. 

Martin James Bartlett is an exclusive recording artist with Warner Classics, and his new album, Bach Mozart Britten: Concertos, is released on 27 February 2026.


This programme spans more than two centuries — from Bach to Mozart to Britten. What was the artistic thread that connected these three composers for you when shaping the album?

The starting point was exploring Britten as not just a composer but also as a wonderful pianist and conductor. He was deeply influenced by Bach, taking inspiration for his own War Requiem. For me Mozart and Britten’s works on this album are tied together in the sense that they are both precociously talented artists emerging brightly into the world. 

You’ve described Young Apollo as “rhythmically electric” and radiant with youthful brilliance. What does this piece demand from you technically and emotionally at the piano?

It is a physically demanding work as it requires a colossal sound. Imitating the sheer power and radiance of the sun god Apollo is no easy feat! But it is a joy to play, the rhythms and the intense character are a complete adrenaline rush. 

For this recording, you worked from a new critical edition of Young Apollo, calling it “in a sense, a second world premiere.” How did revisiting Britten’s corrected intentions reshape your interpretation?

It was fascinating to see the corrections made in the new Faber critical edition. Lots of them are very subtle but they all add up to make the piece even more effective. It’s like the restoration of an old oil painting – suddenly everything is sharper and brighter. 

Mozart’s ‘Jeunehomme’ concerto famously disrupts convention — the piano interrupts the orchestra almost immediately. How do you approach that moment of bold equality between soloist and ensemble?

I, as with most things in my life, approach it with a sense of cheekiness! Mozart was rather rambunctious in character and I’m sure he would have interjected the first phrase with a twinkle in his eye. The fact it happens twice is just to make sure everyone has caught on to the joke. 

Recording in Salzburg with the Mozarteumorchester must have carried a particular resonance, especially given your earlier experience performing the Mozart in a masterclass with Sir András Schiff. Did returning to the city change how you felt about the work?

To record in the city of Mozarts youth and wander the streets that he wandered is beyond a privilege – It feels as if you are as connected to him as you possibly can be. 

The support and guidance over the last years of Sir András Schiff has changed my artistic development significantly and The Mozarteumorchester, not surprisingly, are completely masterful in this genre. All in all I feel extraordinarily lucky that this all came to fruition. 

You chose a Bösendorfer piano for this disc, noting its clarity and luminosity. How important is the instrument itself in shaping the colour palette and narrative arc of a recording like this?

It really is the most key foundation – To have an instrument that makes you smile at how it reacts under your hands is what pianists all wish for. I had the privilege of choosing this instrument at the Bösendorfer in Vienna and as soon as I touched the first key I knew it was the one that could bring a freshness to each of these masterpieces. 

REVIEW: Matilda Lloyd & Goldmund Quartet: ‘Salon Re-imagined’


Rating: 4 out of 5.

“accomplished, elegant musical journey from Bach to Gershwin”


A trumpet and string quartet is an unusual formation for a concert, but is the chosen vehicle for this concert inspired by the European salon concerts of the 18th and 19th centuries. As part of the Kings Place ‘Memory Unwrapped’ series, this performance is a collaboration between star trumpet soloist Matilda Lloyd and the Goldmund Quartet.

The programme notes tell us that we are to imagine ourselves in a musical salon, ‘a space where music meets conversation’ which is intended to give the concert ‘an intimate and relaxed feel’. However, beneath the hall’s cavernous ceiling and surrounded by airy wooden cladding, the concert possesses all the formal trappings of a staid classical concert, and much suspension of disbelief is required to conjure the intended atmosphere.

The concert opens within J.S. Bach’s trumpet concerto, which Lloyd performs on piccolo trumpet with rapid arpeggios and trills showcasing her virtuosic facility on the instrument, accompanied with light grandeur by the quartet. Al the players stand, enhancing the piece’s buoyant energy as each movement, even the Larghetto, dances along. Lloyd stands next to the quartet, playing towards them as though in conversation.

Taking handheld microphones, Lloyd and cellist Raphael Paratore, welcome us to a soirée in 18th-century Vienna, at the home of Marianna Martines, a building which also housed the young Joseph Haydn. The high point of the concert’s first half was Haydn’s trumpet concert, arguably the most famous work for the instrument. Lloyd’s rendition is confident though never brash, demonstrating exceptional poise and control. Dialled-in precision characterises each movement, resulting in an elegance which is impressive but lacks excitement, with the quartet not quite fulfilling the richness of the full orchestra that would typically accompany the work.

Closing the first half is a piece by Marianna Martines herself, one of two instances where the programme diverts from conventional, well-known works to showcase underperformed and lesser-known female composers. This short piece is an excerpt from La Tempesta, a florid work which is a treat to discover though I didn’t quite feel the turbulence of the titular storm.

In both acts, the Goldmund Quartet played a piece without trumpet, which were two of the most famous works for the formation: Haydn’s whimsical ‘Joke’ quartet and the second movement from Schubert’s heart-wrenching ‘Death and the Maiden’. In both, the quartet delivered a refined performance, though I found myself hoping they would at some point really let rip. Technical details such as intonation and phrasing were hard to fault, but choosing pieces which hold such canonical status within the repertoire invites scrutiny: for me Haydn’s joke felt more of a coy eyebrow raise than cause for laughter and the Schubert a touch too polite to really move me.

After the interval we were brought into the 19th century, into the Paris home of Pauline Viardot. Two pieces by Viardot sandwich a third by Gabriel Fauré, presented as though three movements of one piece. On B flat trumpet now, Lloyd’s sound is much warmer and more expressive. This trio is a highlight: three charming pieces full of lilting melodies and Romantic swells. The trumpet never overpowers the strings and here they sit as a quintet, playing as one ensemble.

The concert closed in the 20th century – we are told we are in the Roosevelt Club in New York – with George Gershwin’s Three Preludes (and the excellent choice of his ‘Someone to Watch Over Me as an encore). Dance rhythms from jazz, Brazilian and Spanish music inject verve into the concert, though still played with characteristic precision, and a whistling duet makes for an unexpectedly delightful interlude. The finale at last reaches the more foot-stomping energy I have been craving throughout.

Though we are told we are on a journey through the salon, the real narrative of the concert coheres around the trumpet and its stylistic evolution. Lloyd showcases the instrument’s full gamut of tone, colour and expression, from Bach’s high virtuoso and Haydn’s stately elegance to the warmth and liquidity of Romanticism and the playful muted sounds of jazz, executed throughout with confidence and technical prowess.

‘Salon re-imagined’ was performed on the 7th of February at Kings Place in London, as part of their concert series ‘Memory Unwrapped’.

REVIEW: Anna Clyne – Performance of DANCE with Cellist Inbal Segev


Rating: 4 out of 5.

A fearless start to the year that proved The National Youth Orchestra already plays with grown up confidence.”


I couldn’t have asked for a better way to begin the year than with the National Youth Orchestra at the Barbican. This was my first concert of 2026, and from the opening minutes it felt like a clean reset: ambitious, unapologetically demanding, and in a way risky. And then there was the  thrill about knowing that what you are hearing is the result of barely a week’s work together. Most of us were still negotiating leftover chocolate and email inboxes at that point while those very talented musicians were building a full orchestral language from scratch and offering it up in public.

The programme, titled Shimmer, avoided any sense of post-holiday comfort listening. Instead, it leaned into heat, glare and movement, drawing heavily on imagined Spanish soundworlds filtered through French sensibilities. Debussy’s Ibéria opened the evening with fragmented rhythms, hazy colours, gestures that appear and dissolve before you can grasp them. Under Alexandre Bloch’s direction, the orchestra felt impressively contained for its size. There were moments where the texture thickened almost too much,  but even then the playing retained a sense of intent rather than excess.


Ravel’s Rapsodie espagnole followed, and here the orchestra seemed to relax into the music’s theatricality. The final movement, in particular, felt to me like it burst into life: brass was biting, woodwinds were flashing upwards, rhythms were into focus. 


But for me the concert truly caught fire in the contemporary works. Karim Al-Zand’s City Scenes delivered a kind of neon confidence,  jazzy,  together with streetwise gestures in the orchestra. The energy felt modern without trying too hard to prove it, playful but in the sane time constructed with sharpness.  The contrast with Anna Clyne’s DANCE brought balance. With cellist Inbal Segev at its centre, the piece pushed the audience through  a series of emotional transformations. One moment the orchestra offered an almost baroque sound, the next it slipped into something closer to jazz or klezmer. The dialogue between soloist and ensemble was alive and flexible, and Segev’s presence grounded the piece with warmth and authority.


There were lighter touches too like the Autumn Leaves that spotlighted bassoon and tuba in ways that felt both cheeky and affectionate, and a final encore that tipped fully into joy. By the end, what remaind was not just technical accomplishment but a sense of possibility. Hearing an orchestra at the very start of its journey, still forming its collective voice, is rare. Hearing it sound this confident so early on is rarer still.


If this was the National Youth Orchestra’s opening statement for the year, it was a bold one. I left the Barbican energised,  stunned, and very glad that this was how my musical calendar began.

REVIEW: Home Alone


Rating: 5 out of 5.

“A joyous, resonant, and beautifully executed event; the perfect way to begin the Christmas season.”


Watching ‘Home Alone’ with a live orchestra at the Royal Albert Hall transforms a beloved Christmas classic into an unforgettable cinematic celebration. The grandeur of the Hall, combined with the warmth of John Williams’ iconic score performed live, elevates the film far beyond the nostalgia of yearly rewatching.

From the moment the Royal Philharmonic Concert Orchestra began the overture, it was clear that this was not simply a screening – it was a festive event in its own right. Williams’ music is so central to the movie’s charm and it emerges with astonishing clarity when performed by a full ensemble. Nuances that often sit quietly in the background burst into focus. Delicate strings that underscore Kevin’s wonder, the playful woodwinds during his mischievous traps, and the sweeping choral moments that infuse the film with emotional weight.

The synchronization between the musicians and the screen was impeccable. Action cues landed perfectly with the chaos on screen, and comedic beats felt sharper and more vivid thanks to the live accompaniment. The orchestra added depth and dynamism, making familiar scenes such as the frantic airport dash to Kevin’s final showdown with the Wet Bandits feel unexpectedly fresh.

The Royal Albert Hall itself contributes significantly to the experience. Its acoustics lend a richness to the score that feels almost cinematic in its own right, and the festive atmosphere in the venue, from the decorated foyers to the excited patrons filling the seats, amplifies the seasonal spirit. It strikes a successful balance between high-calibre musical performance and joyful, accessible entertainment.

Perhaps the most powerful moment comes near the film’s climax, when the choir’s voices swell during ‘Somewhere in My Memory.’ Hearing this live in a space as resonant as the Royal Albert Hall is genuinely moving. It is a reminder of how expertly the film blends humour, heart and music and why so many people rewatch it year after year.

‘Home Alone in Concert’ is more than a nostalgic novelty. It is a reminder of the enduring impact of a great score, and of how live performance can breathe new life into a classic. Whether you are a lifelong fan of the movie or introducing it to younger viewers for the first time, this is a festive experience that delights across generations.

REVIEW: The Sixteen: Handel’s Messiah


Rating: 5 out of 5.

“A Christmas choral treat so divine you’ll be left praying for an encore”


Handel was at heart always a London boy. He rented in Soho in the latter part of his life, fundraised relentlessly for the Foundling Hospital and sought social mobility from his humble roots like the rest of Middle England. His seminal work Messiah needs no introduction; safe in the knowledge its heavenly creation has continued to awe audiences since its 1742 immaculate conception. How do you review a 280 year old piece and say something new? The music has not changed too much since Handel’s initial edits, the bible verses remain ecclesiastically bombastic since King James had them translated 400 years ago. Even the venue, a James Gibbs 1726 baroque masterpiece remains as glitteringly gilded as intended. 

What is new, however, is the passion of the piece. Presented by Harry Christophers’ The Sixteen, comprising of a sensational chamber choir and orchestra with several soloists, Messiah is less a linear narrative and more a sonic adoration of The Lord. Using direct excerpts from the Bible, the crystal clear diction of the singers allows every audience member to ascend to a higher plane. Dressed in their best white tie and tails, formal gowns and festive sparkle, the concert is an absolute Christmas delight. The sense of occasion brought by the performance was palpable and you knew you were witnessing something special. I was particularly impressed by alto Hugh Cutting, whose picture is sure to be found in the Book of Revelations because he was that impressive and expressive in his cadence, clarity and conviction of his arias. He reminded me of how I imagine Mozart behaved at concerts- skilful, confident and refreshingly youthful. 

I must confess, for my sins I have never been to St Martin in the Fields, never listened to Messiah fully before, never properly paid attention to the arrangement of the orchestration. But when I heard “O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law” it’s hard not to feel emotional- the line hits hard today as when it was written. The fire and brimstone nature of the divine proceedings adds such a sense of drama and panache. Even if you knew nothing about Christianity, cared little for religious veneration, it would be impossible to leave this performance unmoved. The Sixteen’s choir sing with such perfect harmonies, making full use of the excellent acoustics of the venue. Though you may feel it is not a set design in the traditional sense it is of course blessed by a terrific modern backdrop. The East Wing window over the nave, looming beautifully over the orchestra is a 2008 modern art piece by Iranian artist Shirazeh Houshiary. Her simple lined window was inspired by the Veil of Veronica by Francisco de Zubarán; though its warp and weft curves reminded me visually of the warping in a black hole. I suppose the link with Messiah to me is the power of God in the infinite cosmos, bending it to His will.

Make no mistake, The Sixteen’s Messiah is an expertly performed show, presenting the music itself as divine. It is such a treat to listen to in its entirety (wait for that famous Hallelujah crescendo- stunning) and despite the audience being almost exclusively elderly, I absolutely do recommend this to all ages as a festive family night out. This is helped by the vitality of the performers, contrasting design features of the venue, and the pomp and ceremony only a Handel oratorio can bring.