Tag: orchestra

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Enyi Okpara

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We sat down for an exclusive interview with Enyi Okpara, who conducts the pioneering orchestra Manchester Camerata on 24 April. The programme, The Beautiful Game, takes place at the National Football Museum with concerts at 18:30 and 20:00. Tickets available here.

Enyi Okpara is the newly appointed Fellow Conductor of the London Philharmonic Orchestra for the 2026/27 Season.

Conducting on a football pitch flips the usual concert dynamic — how has that changed the way you think about audience, energy, and performance?

In many ways, the dynamic is very similar to being in a football stadium!

I’m a massive Arsenal fan, and one thing I love about Mikel Arteta is his ability to galvanise fans for any big game. Since he started as Arsenal manager, he’s created a sense of unity between the fans and the squad. He made Louis Dunford’s song The Angel (North London Forever), Arsenal’s de facto anthem, to capture the club spirit. He goes on about the fans at the Emirates being the “12th man” on the pitch, and urges us to bring the atmosphere, so much so that we can influence matches. 

The relationship between the audience, me, and the wonderful players of Manchester Camerata is very similar. Benjamin Britten used to talk about the holy triangle – the relationship between composer, performer and listener and the need for active participation between all three. We always have the composer doing their bit, and I’m very lucky to be responsible for the performance with the amazing musicians of Manchester Camerata. The crucial role of the audience sometimes doesn’t get as much credit as it should. The audience enables us to sound like musicians. Just like a fanbase allows players to play at their best. For an audience, and like a fanbase, their joy is our joy, their frustration is our frustration, and we’re all part of the same journey. An audience’s energy, expectations and mood can really enhance a performance, in the same way the energy, expectation and mood of fans can influence a football game. I hope that the audience becomes our “12th man.”

Football chants and orchestral music both thrive on collective emotion — where do you see the strongest crossover between the two?

In any football game, phases of play can result in varying emotions in a very short space of time. Anxiety, excitement, nervousness, frustration, joy. It’s the same when you journey through a symphony or concerto, or any piece of music for that matter. The rollercoaster of emotions one experiences listening to a Brahms, Haydn or Shostakovich symphony is the same type of emotion one experiences watching a title-deciding Arsenal, Man United or Liverpool game. They’re a lot more similar than people think! 

Along with that, there’s a sense of collectiveness in both orchestral music and football. Both the experience of watching a football match and the experience of going to a concert enable communities that connect people across different spaces and social backgrounds. There’s collective joy at a football game if your team win, in the same way, there’s a collective sense of fulfilment at the end of Beethoven’s 7th. I’ve found that the ability for both football and classical music to foster a sense of community is incredibly special.

This programme blends everything from Sweet Caroline to Eleven — how do you create a coherent musical journey from such different sources?

The programme that we’ve put together can be split into three categories. Classical music is known to football fans because of its use in football. Music by composers who were football fans or used football to inspire their music. And bangers you would hear at a football game! 

With the first category, we were keen to show the role that classical music has played in the modern game. We’ll be performing Faure’s Pavane – a piece featured on the soundtrack of the 1998 World Cup. Faure’s music is just one example of this. Handel’s Zadok the Priest was adapted by the composer Tony Britten to create the UEFA Champions League anthem. Pavarotti’s Nessun Dorma was sung at the 1990 World Cup. There are so many more classical music snippets in football!

The second category shows that classical musicians can be football fans! And football has been a primary source of inspiration for a lot of music making! You’ll hear music by Elgar, Shostakovich and James MacMillan – all very avid football fans! Elgar was a massive fan of Wolverhampton Wanderers and is widely credited for writing the first-ever football anthem. His love of Wolves was sparked by his friendship with Dora Penny, who was immortalised by the Dorabella variation in his Enigma Variations, which you’ll hear in the concert. Shostakovich was crazy about football and saw it as a way of escaping the pressures of life, living in the Soviet Union. He was a big Zenit St Petersburg fan and a qualified referee. And James MacMillan – one of the world’s most prominent living composers – is a passionate Celtic fan, and his piece Eleven celebrates the eleven players on a pitch. 

Songs like Sweet Caroline and Wavin Flag, alongside various football chants, do so well to create a shared sense of identity, solidarity, and loyalty in any football game. I hope that by performing this music, the audience feels a strong sense of belonging to this concert, as they would to a football game!

You came to conducting after studying law — what mindset or skills from that world have unexpectedly shaped your approach on the podium?

When I was a law student at the University of Bristol, I had a personal tutor who used to talk about critical analysis. It involves deeply examining and interpreting a text, concept or work to gain a deeper understanding of its content and implications. He always used to talk about “peeling the onion.” To understand situations or any piece of legal doctrine, you need to strip away the superficial layers to reach the core truth. 

I think score study and conducting are very similar. To really understand any piece of music, you have to go beyond the surface-level observations and into specific, detailed analysis. I really enjoy getting into a composer’s mind. At what point in their life are they writing? What’s influencing them? What’s the message they’re trying to tell? And how does that inform why they’ve written what they’ve written? It enables me to get closer to the crux of a piece of music. I recently spent a week conducting the amazing National Children’s Orchestra, where I was asked to do a “Thought for the Day” for these incredibly talented, brilliant, young musicians. Mine was about listening to a wide range of music and always being musically curious. I was trying to stress the importance of always asking questions when you approach any new music and having the drive, curiosity to explore, learn about and understand music. From the mechanics of a single chord to the cultural history of an entire genre. I think that mindset has been partly driven by my legal past and legal analytical way of thinking from my undergrad degree. Weirdly, it’s really informed the way I approach any score! So, thank you to my wonderful personal tutor from all those years ago! 

Manchester Camerata is known for its deep community connection — how does that ethos come alive in a project like this?

What’s fantastic about this project is the shared sense of belonging that it creates. A project like this really has something for everyone. From the wide-ranging repertoire to the sheer fact that it’s being performed on a football pitch at the National Football Museum, this concert isn’t just for classical music lovers. It’s also for football fans and anyone with an interest in sport. I think, especially in this day and age, projects that do well to bring communities from different backgrounds and social groups together are so important as they’re forward-facing and really create a level of accessibility. There’s never a sense that anyone wouldn’t belong at a concert like this, and it’s incredible that Manchester Camerata champions this ethos so well!

As a lifelong Arsenal fan, do you approach this concert as a conductor, a supporter, or a bit of both — and does that change how you hear the music?

A bit of both! As a conductor, I’m hoping that we can tease out the varying emotions certain pieces evoke, to show that the journey you go on listening to classical music and watching a game aren’t that dissimilar! As a supporter, one of the great things about being a football fan is that whenever I go to the Emirates, it doesn’t matter what walk of life you come from. You always feel that you belong. There’s a shared sense of unity behind your team and behind the beautiful game. Drawing on those experiences, I hope that I can encourage football fans to feel like they ‘belong’ to any concert hall, be it on a football pitch or wherever. And also proving that classical music can be, in its own special way, its own beautiful game.

The Beautiful Game is at the National Football Museum on the 24th of April. Tickets here.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Emme Hensel

Published on by Tabitha JamesLeave a comment

We sat down for an exclusive interview with Emme Hensel, co-principal flautist for the National Youth Orchestra’s Spring tour ‘Collide’.

Dates and times for Collide are 9th April 2026 at The Bridgewater Hall, Manchester, and 11th April at Royal Festival Hall, London, both at 7:30pm – Tickets here

Collide explores huge themes like love, courage and conflict. As a musician, how does it feel to bring such powerful stories to life through your flute?

Being able to bring such powerful stories to life through my flute feels almost like I am becoming the characters in the pieces myself. Not only can I feel the emotions of my characters, but when playing with the rest of the orchestra, I can feel the whole story coming to life around me. Having such a variety of emotions to explore whilst I am playing also adds a lot of excitement, as well as opportunity for creativity and exploration of sound, which I love.

For many teenagers in the audience, this might be their first orchestral concert. What do you hope they feel when they hear the orchestra play?

I hope that the teenagers in the audience who haven’t been exposed to orchestral music before are captivated by the collective power of so many teenage musicians working together to produce something bigger than them. I think that one of the incredible things about orchestral music is the way in which we all have to work together and communicate with each other through our playing, in order to convey emotion to the audience.

NYO offers free tickets for teenagers to make orchestral music accessible. Why do you think it’s important that young people get the chance to experience music like this live?

I think that it is so important that young people get to experience orchestral music because it provides a way for them to connect with others and be a part of a new community. The experience of seeing the orchestra live (as opposed to streaming it at home) will allow them to be immersed in the atmosphere created by the music. This is really exciting as it means that the teenagers can experience the story within the music firsthand, and hopefully get even more enjoyment out of the overall experience!

When you’re performing something as dramatic as Romeo and Juliet, do you feel like you’re telling the story through the music rather than just playing the notes?

I believe that with something as dramatic as Romeo and Juliet, that already has such a well known storyline, we as performers are provided with a vessel to help us pass even more emotion to the audience. This makes it thrilling to play because of the creative element of telling the story as well as playing the notes. Due to the story being so well known, we also have room to provide the audience with our own interpretations of the feelings of characters in certain scenes, which is a lot of fun.

The National Youth Orchestra brings together 160 teenage musicians. What is the energy like when you all perform together on stage?

I think the energy of an orchestra of teenagers, especially when most of us are playing repertoire for the first time, is something incredibly unique and amazing. I hope that with both our playing, and the creative side of NYO with our encores, we can inspire this generation of young people to gain the same enjoyment of classical music that we get to experience through NYO. I love the buzz of making music with such close friends. It’s an amazing feeling to create something so spectacular, that means so much to so many people, with those who you care about a lot. I feel incredibly lucky to get to play with such brilliant musicians, and brilliant people.     

You’re performing music inspired by Howl’s Moving Castle, Tristan und Isolde and Romeo and Juliet. Which piece in the programme excites you the most to play and why?

I love that all of the music in the Collide tour tells such vivid stories. It makes the music thrilling to play because it makes you feel like you’re actually playing a part in the story itself. In Romeo and Juliet in particular, I can hear all of the characters, who I knew growing up, coming to life.

REVIEW: Sunset

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Rating: 5 out of 5.

Grief, virtuosity, chaos, and sunlight — SUNSET had it all, and then some.

Titled Sunset, the programme itself traced a kind of emotional arc, from intimacy and loss to absurdity, virtuosity, and finally clarity. It opened with Ottorino Respighi’s Il Tramonto, a setting of Shelley’s The Sunset, and one of the most quietly devastating works of the evening. Scored for soprano and string quartet, it tells of love abruptly cut short: a young woman awakening beside her dead lover, and carrying that grief throughout her life. Sarah Aristidou embodied this world completely. Aristidou stood centre stage barefoot, draped in a flowing, pale gown with a muted green cape, evoking something between a Greek statue and a mythological figure, her stillness as expressive as her voice. The music’s chromatic richness was matched by her ability to move between fragile lyricism and something almost recitative-like. It felt less like a performance and more like witnessing a moment suspended in time.

From this introspection, the concert pivoted into dazzling theatricality with Antonio Pasculli’s Oboe Concerto on themes from Donizetti’s La Favorita. Pasculli, often dubbed the “Paganini of the oboe,” wrote music that pushes the instrument to its absolute limits, and François Leleux rose to that challenge with irrepressible verve. Leading from within the orchestra, he brought a sense of play that transformed the stage dynamic, weaving operatic lyricism with brilliance, the oboe almost becoming a singing voice and conductor in its own right. The northern French oboe player is exuberant, communicative, and endlessly engaging. The final flourish drew immediate emphatic applause, and his Bach encore was a nod to the approaching Easter season.

If the first half had already traversed grief and brilliance, György Ligeti’s Mysteries of the Macabre detonated into something altogether more unhinged, in the best possible way. Drawn from Le Grand Macabre, the work is a tour de force for soprano, sung by the delirious character Gepopo, chief of the secret police, attempting to communicate an impending apocalypse. Aristidou seized this with astonishing commitment. Beginning unseen, her voice emerged from the balcony behind the audience, immediately destabilising the space. As she moved through the hall, the performance became theatrical, immersive, and gleefully disruptive. By the time she reached the stage, interrupting, provoking, and playing off the conductor, Paul Watkins, the piece’s manic energy, teetering between urgency and absurdity, was fully realised. A well-timed joke from the podium, likening her character’s frantic authority to that of a Reform Party figure, landed perfectly with the audience, sharpening the work’s satirical edge. The orchestra matched her every move with remarkable precision, echoing her cries, outbursts, and sudden shifts of character with almost comic exactness that heightened the sense of chaos. Her vocal agility was staggering, but it was her dramatic instinct that made the performance unforgettable. She didn’t simply navigate Ligeti’s chaos; she revelled in it.

After the interval, Franz Schubert’s Symphony No. 5 offered something entirely different: lightness, clarity, and a kind of youthful optimism. Composed for a modest ensemble, its charm lies in its restraint. Under Leleux’s direction, Sinfonia Smith Square captured this spirit beautifully. After the intensity of the first half, it felt like stepping into an elegant and joyful sunlight.

What made Sunset so remarkable was not just the calibre of its performers, though that was undeniable, but the way the programme itself told a story. From the transience of life in Il Tramonto, through operatic passion and virtuosic display, to Ligeti’s surreal apocalypse and Schubert’s serene resolution, the evening traced something very human. It was, in every sense, a complete experience: thoughtful, theatrical, and performed with exceptional artistry. 

Sunset was a one-off performance on 29th March, presented as part of the London Chamber Music Festival. Tickets for other shows at the Sinfonia Smith Square Hall can be found here.

Photo Provided By Southbank Centre Website

REVIEW: St John Passion

Published on by Ke MengLeave a comment

Rating: 3.5 out of 5.

Finely sung with beautiful moments

One week before Easter, at Southbank Centre’s Queen Elizabeth Hall, the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment presented St John Passion under the direction of Johanna Soller, which also marked her London debut. Alongside, there were James Way as the Evangelist and Peter Edge as Christus, soprano Hilary Cronin, mezzo-soprano Helen Charlston and tenor Jonathan Hanley in the meditative arias, joined by the Choir of the Age of Enlightenment as the ensemble.

Many of the soloists showcased striking and promising talent. As the Evangelist, Way delivered a supple lyricism with refined nuance, helping to hold the ensemble together. As the primary storyteller, his voice carried a devoted piety but was tinged with subtle worry, worrying about Christus not as Lord but as human. This “humanisation of Christus” was further reflected in Edge’s portrayal, particularly in the recitative “Jesus ging mit seinen Jüngern”, where a trace of disappointment and melancholy was undercurrent, especially in the line, “Shall I not drink the cup which my Father has given me?”. Hilary Cronin, as the soprano, stole the evening with “Zerfließe, mein Herze, in Fluten der Zähren”. The aria was exquisite: her timbre was weightless, paired with a finely balanced light-mix that seamlessly dissolved into the instrumental texture.

However, despite these compelling solo moments, Soller appeared to struggle in articulating a coherent interpretive philosophy. What kind of St John Passion this was meant to be. Was it to be dramatic or intimate, historically informed or more modern? For instance, the opening chorus, “Herr, unser Herrscher”, can unfold as searing and overwhelming, full of dramatic tension. Bach’s modernity, in its harmonic clashes, is at once refreshing, unsettling, and even wild.

Here, the opening lacked both precision and intensity, as many notes came off as “oh, this is a bit hasty”, and the ensemble was not fully locked in, nor did the instruments properly engage. The dissonance struggled to accumulate the intensity through the violins’ and the basses’ quavers, which should have driven towards the three thunderous “Herr”.

Such interpretive vagueness lasted throughout the night, which made the whole performance feel like a missed opportunity. Much less performed by St Matthew Passion, St John Passion may demand a more sharply defined and affective direction.

This show finished its run on 29th March. Tickets for other shows at Queen Elizabeth Hall can be found here – https://www.southbankcentre.co.uk/whats-on/.

REVIEW: Elgar Serenade for Strings

Published on by georgiamcknightLeave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

A hauntingly intimate evening that journeyed from Elgar’s gentle warmth, through the
séance‑like anguish of The Immortal, to the majestic sweep of Sibelius’s Second
Symphony

The Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra’s concert on Thursday 26 th March 2026 offered an evening of vivid contrasts, anchored by the presence of Artist in Residence Mark Simpson. Under the poised direction of conductor Daniela Candillari, the programme moved from Elgar’s evergreen Serenade for Strings through the supernatural world of Simpson’s The Immortal to the expansive sweep of Sibelius’s Second Symphony, all within the setting of Liverpool Philharmonic Hall. The hall itself felt both tall and close, with glowing backlights and a clear, unfussy stage that
drew focus entirely onto the performers. The audience was mostly older, with only a
scattering of empty seats, which contributed to a reflective, attentive atmosphere making the quieter moments feel almost private. Elgar’s Serenade for Strings opened the concert as a gentle prelude. The orchestra shaped the opening movement with a subtle, almost storybook sense of adventure, as if inviting listeners into a journey rather than announcing itself with grandeur. A particularly expressive cellist became a quiet focal point, her visible engagement clearly charmed the audience as her lines adding depth and humanity to Elgar’s flowing textures. The music’s warmth and ease set an affectionate tone, a clear contrast to what was to come.

The centrepiece of the first half, Simpson’s The Immortal, arrived with a spoken introduction from the composer that proved essential. He described the work as an exploration of a man tormented by the clash between religious faith, Darwinism, bereavement and an obsessive turn towards séances, and the performance bore that psychological burden in full. From the outset, intimate strings established an uneasy calm before panic crept in through tremulous violins and dark, heavy textures. The sound world felt immediately tense, more akin to a staged haunting than a traditional choral-orchestral work.

Candillari controlled the buildup of tension, allowing layers of sound- panicked violins,
spectral vocal lines, and dense harmonies to accumulate without ever tipping into
incoherence. The lead voice was powerful and focused, riding above the orchestral turmoil with remarkable control, while the backing ensemble added eerie, ritualistic colour. Subtitles were invaluable in following the text, revealing a narrative of anguish and spiritual fragmentation that might otherwise have been overwhelming.

Visually, the piece was underscored by shifting backlighting that moved from warm glows to stark, seance-like silhouettes, reinforcing the sense of being drawn into a world of old horror and swampy supernatural atmosphere. At times the music felt almost mad and chaotic- a deliberate expression of inner torment rather than mere noise- and some listeners found it unsettling, even unlikeable. Yet the work maintained a gripping, edge-of-the-seat energy throughout, and when the final note released the accumulated tension, the applause was long and heartfelt.

After the interval, Sibelius’s Symphony No. 2 provided the evening’s final arc, swelling “like a mighty river” as promised in the programme, and crowned with its unforgettable closing theme. The opening had a pixie hollow-esq charm that was magical, exploratory, almost like stepping into an enchanted forest, before gradually broadening into something more monumental. Flutes and oboes played a prominent role in playful call-and-response figures with the rest of the orchestra, lending the early movements a light, airy character.

The warm, consistent lighting kept the visual world grounded and open, even as the music grew more turbulent. By the time the famous final theme arrived, the effect was undeniably majestic, reminiscent of a sweeping cinematic or even Disney-esque opening, but charged with Sibelius’s distinctive national and emotional weight.

Taken as a whole, the evening traced a compelling journey: from Elgar’s tender serenity,
through the haunted psychological landscape of The Immortal, to the confident, river-like surge of Sibelius’s Second Symphony. Candillari and the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra demonstrated impressive versatility and emotional range, offering a night that moved from the intimate to the immense, and from anguish to something close to catharsis.

credit to Chris Payne

REVIEW: Anthracite Fields

Published on by Steffan Eldridge1 Comment

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.

Clockwise: Royal Scottish National Orchestra; Jacob Collier; Orchestras for All; Matilda Lloyd; Claudia Molitor; Mark-Anthony Turnage

FEATURE: 2026 Royal Philharmonic Society Awards

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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

REVIEW: Fantasia Orchestra

Published on by Antonia ConstantinLeave a comment

Rating: 4.5 out of 5.

Fantasia Orchestra is carving out something special with this residency at Smith Square Hall. If you have not yet heard them, you should. It feels like one of those treasures quietly hiding in plain sight.

It was my first time at Smith Square Hall, and before a single note was played, I felt the charm of the place. The symmetry of the two opposing columns flanking the stage gave the room a sort of poised elegance, as though the building itself were preparing to listen. It turned out to be the perfect setting for Tom Fetherstonhaugh and Fantasia Orchestra’s Birdsong programme. This title already hinted at lightness, air, and the promise of something gently uplifting.

The evening began with Vivaldi’s Spring, and I could not help but smile at the thoughtfulness of that choice. Coming in from the sharp November cold, the music worked like a window suddenly thrown open. There was a sense of defrosting, of stepping into colour. It set the mood for a concert that moved freely across centuries while carrying a remarkably coherent airiness.

Unfortunately, Lucy Crowe could not make the performance, and the news of her absence had clearly travelled through the crowd. Yet what could have felt like a disruption instead brought a certain intensity to the atmosphere. The amazing soprano Elizabeth Watts stepped in with less than a day’s notice and did so with such poise that, instead of feeling underprepared, the whole stage seemed emotionally alert. There was a shared concentration, an honesty of sound. Somehow, this vulnerability suited the theme of the evening: a programme about birds, weather, fragility, and listening. Mozart’s Dove Sono from The Marriage of Figaro was shaped with real elegance. The subtle rubato felt completely organic, never drifting into exaggeration, and Elizabeth’s phrasing carried a soft ache that suited the aria’s longing perfectly. Strauss’s Spring from the Four Last Songs brought a different kind of tenderness, one with a searching, almost fragile edge. Knowing she had stepped in with less than a day’s notice made it even more affecting; there was sincerity in the uncertainty, and it worked in the context of the piece’s quiet optimism.

Among the orchestral works, Haydn’s Symphony no. 83 ‘The Hen’ was where I felt the room truly relax. It was playful, cheeky even, the humorous gestures landing neatly. It was also the moment when I noticed just how well the ensemble breathed together, even with a last-minute change.

The Messiaen arrangement was one of the other highlights. Without a voice, the harmonic landscape felt even more vivid, and the piccolo lines were almost weightless, bright little flecks darting over the dense orchestral texture.

The great discovery for me, though, was the London premiere of Blasio Kavuma’s I am the Sea. The score carried a contemporary edge, full of turbulence and quiet surges, and I found myself hearing the push and pull of tides in the dialogue between the four soloists. There was a complexity that felt deeply connected to the natural world. It was an intense, compelling piece, and I was grateful to encounter something new alongside so many familiar works.

The concert closed with Autumn Leaves, and the encore, Sherwin’s A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square, gently guided us back into the season awaiting outside. After the levity, the playfulness, and the sweep of the musical journey, this final turn felt graceful and grounding.

It was an absolutely lovely evening, the sort of concert that reminds you how much imagination and care the younger orchestras in London are bringing to the scene. Fantasia Orchestra is carving out something special with this residency at Smith Square Hall. If you have not yet heard them, you should. It feels like one of those treasures quietly hiding in plain sight.

REVIEW: ASMF & Timothy Ridout

Published on by Antonia ConstantinLeave a comment

Rating: 5 out of 5.

A season finale from ASMF and Timothy Ridout, blending virtuosity, warmth, and heartfelt connection in a true celebration of music and its quiet magic.

Stepping into the soft-lit space of St Martin-in-the-Fields on a summer evening feels like entering a different dimension. The noise of Trafalgar Square is still very much alive outside, and now and then a faint song from an outdoor concert reaches the church’s walls, but the moment the Academy of St Martin in the Fields begins to play, for me the outside world melts away. They have a rare gift, which is the power to create an acoustic sanctuary right in the middle of the city.

For the final concert of their season, the ASMF welcomed violist Timothy Ridout, former BBC New Generation Artist and one of the most exciting soloists on the international stage. He stepped in with a calm assurance, clutching his viola almost casually, but from the moment he joined the ensemble, it was clear this was going to be a special night. Not just because of his extraordinary technical command, but because of the unmistakable sense of chemistry between Ridout and the Academy. They played with a kind of joy that felt contagious.

The programme was carefully curated, unified by time and influence: each piece written within 40 years and orbiting, in one way or another, around Mozart. Rossini’s String Sonata No.1 in G major, composed when he was just twelve, opened the evening with a youthful energy and cheerful elegance. It’s a short, charming piece, almost operatic in character, and ASMF brought out its sparkle with lightness and clarity.

Mozart’s Sinfonia Concertante in E-flat major followed, with Ridout and ASMF leader Tomo Keller taking on the viola and violin solos respectively. It’s one of Mozart’s most profound and lyrical works, rich with conversation between the two instruments. The interplay between Keller and Ridout was tender and full of warmth, sometimes like an intimate dialogue, other times like a dance, weaving effortlessly around one another.

After the interval came Hummel’s Potpourri mit Fantasie, a rarely heard gem, which stitches together themes from Mozart and Rossini into a flamboyant showcase. Hummel, who once lived with Mozart and soaked up his influence, clearly knew how to write for the viola. And Ridou made it sing! The virtuosity he brought to this piece was in those long golden lines, the moments of hush followed by bursts of pure brilliance. His tone, deep and rich, filled the space, and it left everyone mesmerised.

The final piece, Weber’s Symphony No.1 in C major, brought the evening to a jubilant close. Weber, incidentally married to Mozart’s wife’s cousin, composed it at the age of eighteen, full of youthful swagger and romantic flair. The ASMF played it with energy and elegance.

The audience was unstoppable. Applause rained down, and when Ridout returned for his bow, he lifted his viola with both hands, holding it out horizontally toward the audience, not in a grand gesture of victory, but more like an offering. To me, it felt like a quiet acknowledgement of partnership, a moment of humility that said: this instrument is not just an instrument, but my companion, and it, too, deserves your applause.

I left the church reluctantly, already missing the magic. The thought that this was the final concert of the season landed with a little sting. But if this is how the Academy chooses to say goodbye, full of joy, connection, and extraordinary musicianship, then I can only imagine what next season holds. I’ll be there. Definitely ready.

REVIEW: Mozart Sinfonia Concertante

Published on by Sam WLeave a comment

Rating: 4.5 out of 5.

Not a single word is spoken all night, and yet you  leave with the feeling that a lot was said

You’re invited to a concert. Classical music. While not your typical fare, you look forward to  it. You’re excited, even. So you arrive early at Glasgow’s City Halls, a venue steeped in history and tonight playing host to the Scottish Chamber Orchestra, a performing arts company that formed over a century after the grand hall was originally built. Three pieces will be played, one a world premiere and the others well-loved classics. The lights dim and a group of  musicians, all dressed in the standard black, appear on stage and take their seats. They get ready. A shroud of silence settles over the audience. Are they getting ready too? There’s always an air of anticipation right before the first notes are played, an electric feeling that is seeking a channel to spark the night alive. The musicians raise their instruments to their lips. And into that silence – noise. 

Noise. It hasn’t come from the stage. No, it has come from the audience. Someone’s phone.  Someone has forgotten to switch off their phone and you are sat there smugly because you  always put your phone on silent before any event. But instead of the killing their phone immediately, the noise has kept blaring on, and you have now twisted around to locate the  commotion. It was then you realised it wasn’t just some phone ringing – it was an audience  member seemingly watching TikToks on full volume. 

It is a regrettable way to begin a review. I must apologise as this disruption is in no way a  reflection on the performance; in fact, the performance was equal parts virtuosic and  moving. But it is also a regrettable way to begin an otherwise excellent evening. So, a plea from your humble reviewer: turn off your damn phones. And if you must blast TikToks out loud, the comfort of your own home is a much better locale than you can imagine. 

Away from modern distractions, the evening is kickstarted by the premiere of Jay  Capperauld’s Carmina Gadelica. Inspired by Alexander Carmichael’s collection of ancient  Scottish folk poetry, this piece is performed in five movements by a wind dectet that evokes the natural world that Scotland boasts, from the fluidity of the waters to the song of the  birds. The highlight, however, is the third movement, a musical recreation of songs sung by women who worked on cloth, where a steady beat drives forward a sense of anticipation. 

You are then taken back in time to Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s Sinfonia Concertante K364.  Written in a deeply unhappy time of his life, it begins with a vigorous first movement that  has an almost mischievous edge. Here, the winds take on a supporting role as the strings  come out to play, but it’s the second movement that grabs you and holds on to you. Led by the wonderful Stephanie Gonley on violin and Max Mandel on viola, it is wistful, and demands you introspect. When it ends with a sense of finality, you come away having  touched on emotional truths within.

The final piece of the night is Franz Schubert’s Symphony No 4 in C minor, D 417. Titled  ‘Tragic’, it’s a dramatic piece. Again, the second movement conveys the melancholy, and the  orchestra plays it with a touch of the Romantic, every note like a stroke of a painting. Such strong emotion is mirrored in a happier mood in the final movement, and the orchestra once more matches it with gusto, playing it with a force that literally shakes your boots. It is a triumphant end to the symphony, and a fitting one for the evening.