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Opera, Class, and Who Gets to Belong
Member Spotlight: Arlene Miatto Albeldas - mezzo-soprano
Member Spotlight: Rachael Hughes - Soprano
Member Spotlight: Julia Merino - mezzo-soprano
Frog in Your Throat: When your voice stops playing ball, what next?
News & Views
Opera, Class, and Who Gets to Belong
AO News, Audition Oracle – Thu 20 Nov 2025 @ 5:40
Why widening who belongs will decide whether opera is a living art form or a luxury niche
Finally, the opera world is talking about socio-economic difference – one of the core factors, alongside exposure, in opera’s lack of diversity.
This is the conversation I've been waiting for.
And yet, now that it has arrived – complete with programmes for “unseen” diversity and panel talks on class – I find I’m not jumping for joy. Mostly I feel a mix of relief, hope, and an uncomfortable sense that this has been there in plain sight for a long time.
If you tackle class, you reshape the landscape
Six years ago, when I created a project called By Voice Alone with a small team of colleagues, it felt impossible to separate questions of diversity from questions of class and money. In conversations around that project, class was often the part of the picture people seemed least comfortable naming out loud.
When we put together the programme for the By Voice Alone final, I used the phrase “working-class” in the introductory text, because that’s my own background. I asked a friend to read it over and their honest reaction was, “‘Working class’ – what does that even mean?”
The day before the event, I rewrote the introduction and reprinted the programmes. I remember feeling foolish, and then slightly erased, as if that part of my story needed to be smoothed out to sound acceptable.
It has always, perhaps naively, seemed clear to me that if you lower socio-economic barriers:
- more people can realistically discover this path in the first place
- you naturally end up with a wider mix of backgrounds – ethnically, regionally, culturally, and educationally
When I was a student at music college in the late 90s, I was painfully aware that many people around me had greater financial means: better instruments, more lessons, more safety nets.
But I was equally aware that there were plenty of us who didn’t. We were there thanks to fee support, government support, student loans, and a fair bit of scrabbling and juggling. The mix (whilst not balanced) was real: working-class, lower-income, comfortably-off, wealthy – all in the same building. Only in recent years have I really recognised how fortunate we were to have even that imperfect mix. It feels far more fragile today.
Over the last decade or so, it has felt increasingly hard to ignore that fewer people from lower socio-economic backgrounds are making it into our top conservatoires, which are currently the largest feeder route into the profession.
The irony – not exactly funny, but telling – is that an art form so associated with elites has historically depended on singers, musicians, and students who often came from far less privileged backgrounds, and were rarely welcomed fully into that elite world themselves. Today, many people from similar backgrounds do not even reach the training stage, because they never find a way in or cannot afford to stay. Yet opera has never belonged only to the elite: the same operas were heard from the gallery as in the boxes, and ballad operas, parodies, and popular reworkings carried the stories and tunes out into other theatres and onto the streets.
Not outside the tent shouting in
I don’t believe there’s a secret plot to keep anyone out of opera. What I see instead are systems and habits that end up shutting people out, even when most individuals don’t intend them to.
Most people I meet in this world care deeply about the art form and are genuinely trying to do good. Many are pushing hard, often under-resourced, to change things.
So I am glad we’re finally talking about class. But certain things still jar.
There’s a high-profile talk at a major institution billed as confronting class barriers in classical music. Day tickets are around £125.
I say this not as an outsider judging the price, but as someone inside the profession looking at that figure and genuinely thinking:
“Can I afford to attend this?”
To be fair, they do what many of us do: add a line saying, “If cost is a barrier, please get in touch.”
We say something similar on Audition Oracle.
But what I’ve noticed over time is that sometimes the people who contact us for help are not the ones in the most precarious position. Some who genuinely need it do find the courage to ask, and I’m always glad when they do, but many don’t.
The people really counting the pennies – the ones choosing between an audition trip and the week’s food shop – are often too proud, too anxious, or too exhausted to ask.
So “just email us if you can’t pay” is kind, and better than nothing, but it doesn’t magically remove the barrier.
At the same time, as a sector, we’ve poured a lot of time and money into consultations, round tables, and reports trying to diagnose the problem. Some of that is necessary and has produced important insights. But if we’re honest, there are times when talking about change seems better resourced than actually building the kinds of ongoing, mixed, participatory spaces that change requires – and that isn’t something any one company, however well-intentioned, can solve on its own.
Why I started Audition Oracle
This isn’t abstract for me.
I started Audition Oracle (AO) out of sheer, practical frustration: once I’d left music college, there was no simple, central place to find auditions and opportunities. Information was scattered, and unless someone showed you the routes in, you were piecing it together on your own.
AO grew out of that real need for access to information. It’s essentially a noticeboard for people already on the path, helping you see more of what’s out there and make more informed choices.
It doesn’t fix the earlier problem: it doesn’t put music back into schools, or get someone into their first youth choir, or help a teenager discover opera for the very first time. By the time AO is useful, you’ve already discovered opera. It’s one small piece in the middle of the pipeline, not the beginning.
In practice:
- Companies and organisations can create an account and post their auditions and opportunities for free.
- Those listings can be made fully public, or visible to all singers with a free account, whether or not they ever choose to pay us.
- There is an optional paid membership with stronger filters and time-saving tools – but a huge amount of information is available to anyone with a free login.
As with opera companies and training institutions, we live with the same tension:
How do we keep the lights on and keep things genuinely accessible?
People want to take part, not just watch
When we talk about access in opera, we rightly talk a lot about money: fees, travel costs, pay, and bursaries.
In my own life, though, I’ve seen that the barrier isn’t only financial; it’s also about discovering the art form in the first place, and understanding how to find your place in it once you do.
Some members of my family have felt uncomfortable in and around the opera world. Not because they dislike the music, but because the spaces, the codes, and the culture haven’t always felt like they were “for people like us”.
People today are hungry for connection – to feel part of something, not just sit in the dark and watch other people live their creative lives. It’s no accident that choral singing is booming. Millions of people turn up every week to choirs, community groups, song circles, and other kinds of shared music-making, not because they’re chasing a career, but because they want to join in and feel what it is like to literally sing in harmony.
Opera knows all about the power of collective sound. There is nothing more thrilling than hearing a beautiful, big, vulnerable voice soaring over a huge orchestra – except perhaps hundreds of voices joined together with the raw power of live music-making. It’s even more extraordinary to be inside that sound – listening and contributing with your own body.
There are lots of learning and participation projects in and around opera and classical music, many of them doing thoughtful, committed work. Sometimes the big companies are asked to do so much outreach, on such tight resources, that it can start to pull focus from the core job of making great opera in the first place. And even with all that effort, many of these projects are still quite siloed: separated by age, background, or perceived “level”, or kept at one remove from the main stages and decision-making.
The bigger question is how people first discover opera at all, and then how we invite them to engage, not just observe.
If there’s no room at the table to join the card game, people will simply wander into another room – a choir, a band, a drag show, a jam session, and a TikTok account – where their own voice, craft, or skill clearly has value.
Belonging in practice
When I was growing up, my model of community was my small village church. I no longer follow that religion, but one thing that’s stayed with me is how the whole village existed in that space: all ages, all walks of life, in one room, week after week.
That feels quite rare now.
One of the projects I’ve watched blossom over the years that seems to come close to that village-church feeling for me is Celebrate Voice, founded by Lynsey Docherty. It brings together a range of ages and musical styles – opera, jazz, music theatre, folk, and family shows – alongside participatory singing and community events, all in the same ecosystem rather than in separate boxes. Yes, there are world-class musicians, but what strikes me, reading their words, is the emphasis on involving local people throughout the festival. The invitation isn’t just to buy a ticket, but to become part of an uplifting local community that helps to make the festival happen.
To me, that’s what “access” can look like in practice: a space where opera and other art forms, and people of many different kinds, exist side by side – where you can walk in, whoever you are, at whatever stage of life, and work out how to be there in your own way, not because “inclusion” is written in a policy, but because the culture is genuinely open and lived. It feels closer to how many people actually live their musical lives now, with styles blending and bleeding into each other, rather than sitting in rigid, separate categories.
These days, nature is my religion for solitude. And for human connection? It’s music, every time.
Being in a room where voices of all ages, backgrounds, and abilities are raised together does something different from anything a strategy document can do. It reminds you that you’re part of something bigger, and that your voice, when joined with others, is magnified – more visceral, more powerful, and more fulfilling. It can deepen the whole spectrum of what you feel there: the heartache, the joy, and the curiosity that brought you into the room in the first place.
If opera wants a future, I suspect we’ll need more of that:
- more all-ages, mixed-background spaces where opera sits alongside and interweaves with other kinds of music and creativity
- more projects that bring different people into the same room, not just separate streams running in parallel
- more festivals and companies that grow out of real community connection, not just top-down programming and a good paragraph in a funding bid
Structures matter. Money matters. But there’s also the moment of caring. When people discover opera, they need the chance to fall for it – to become emotionally invested enough that it feels worth the effort it takes to stay.
And of course, there are people who break the pattern I’ve described. Once some singers are “in” – once they’ve found opera, caught the bug, and had even a tiny glimpse of what’s possible – they will crawl over broken glass to keep going, whatever their bank balance says. I’ve seen that grit up close. The deeper tragedy is how many never get to that point at all, because they were never given the chance to discover it or to see a place for themselves inside it.
Where this leaves opera
I’m less interested in more talk about change, and more interested in what it actually means for opera itself. I don’t think this is a problem opera companies can “fix” on their own: it’s about schools, communities, broadcasters, digital spaces, festivals, and yes, opera institutions too, all shaping how people first meet this art form, and whether they have a chance to stay.
- How do we help people discover opera in the first place, not just at conservatoire age, but as children, teenagers, and adults who’ve never set foot in an opera house?
- How do we share it with the world in ways that invite people to stop and take an interest, rather than walk past?
- How do we design projects that don’t just tell people “you’re welcome”, but actually spark curiosity to delve deeper into such a layered musical experience?
My own path to opera wasn’t straightforward. I hadn’t seen an opera on stage until I was already at music college. I didn’t grow up assuming it was “for me”. I found my way in thanks to a mixture of chance, stubbornness, government support, and systems that, at the time, still had a few more rungs on the ladder.
I don’t expect opera, or any institution, to fix my life; my path is my own responsibility. What I do believe in is shared responsibility for the culture we build around the art form. Widening who belongs isn’t about creating special corners for different groups, or smoothing us all into the same beige shape. It’s about letting the circle grow wider so more kinds of people can stand in it together, as they are, held by a shared love of the music.
I’d love us to build a world where more people get the chance to stumble into opera, fall head over heels for it, and then actually be able to stay.
Because if we tackle class, widen the pipeline, deepen the sense of belonging, and genuinely reopen the room to people who have been pushed to the margins, shut out, or quietly drifted away in recent decades, we don’t just “save” opera.
We make it more alive than it has ever been.
If this brings anything up from your own experience of access, class, or belonging in opera, you’re very welcome to get in touch at [email protected] or through Audition Oracle.
And if you’ve made it to the end, thank you. There is no prize, just my appreciation.
Melanie Lodge
Founder, Audition Oracle
Member Spotlight: Arlene Miatto Albeldas - mezzo-soprano
AO News, Audition Oracle – Tue 8 Jul 2025 @ 15:54
1. How do you describe yourself as an artist?
2. What other skills or passions do you have that help shape you as an artist?
Dance is another big passion of mine. I once took a course that covered 15 different styles—from salsa to swing to contemporary—and I found it incredibly enriching. It gave me more awareness of my body, rhythm, and how movement can express emotion in so many different ways.
I also love photography and videography—capturing moments, editing, and telling stories visually is another creative outlet for me. And whenever I have time, I really enjoy sitting in a café with a cup of tea and observing people. I find it not only relaxing, but also an invaluable exercise in character study—watching gestures, dynamics, and energy.
I vividly remember our first day at NOS, when we were encouraged to take weekends off to experience life—visiting museums, discovering local culture—because if we don’t truly live, how can we authentically express life on stage? That idea stuck with me and has become my personal mantra. I try to live fully, savor every experience, embrace new adventures, and always look for the silver lining.
3. What has been the most memorable and rewarding experience you have had as an artist?
The second unforgettable moment was when I performed Mahler’s Symphony No. 3 at Cadogan Hall. Sitting in the heart of the orchestra, listening to the final two movements, was an experience I’ll never forget. During one powerful crescendo, I felt the sound reverberating up my spine, overwhelming me to the point where my eyes welled up with tears. I had to hold them back, though, knowing I couldn’t let myself cry in front of the audience. It was a profoundly moving moment that I’ll carry with me always.
The third was during the final performance of The Queen of Spades at The Grange Festival, where I played Polina. Sondra Radvanovsky herself was in the audience, and after the show, at the farewell drinks, she crossed the room to personally congratulate me. She told me my voice was incredible and that I had a strong stage presence. Sondra Radvanovsky!! It was a surreal and humbling moment that I will never forget.
4. What role, company or performing situation would be a dream come true for you as an artist?
At the same time, London has become a second home to me, and the Royal Opera House (now known as the Royal Ballet and Opera) is deeply meaningful as well—artistically and personally.
And when I allow myself to dream really big… I imagine stepping onto the stage of the MET Opera, singing Octavian in Der Rosenkavalier, and sharing the stage with the incomparable Renée Fleming as the Marschallin and Erin Morley as Sophie. I know Renée doesn’t perform the role anymore—but that specific cast, that moment in time, would have been the ultimate dream come true.
5. What do you like most about being a creative artist?
6. If you could go back in time and give your younger self one piece of advice, what would it be?
7. Three words that are the pillars you shape your career by:
8. What have you been up to recently, and where can our folowers see and hear you next?
In May, I debuted the role of Bersi in Andrea Chénier at Teatro Regio di Parma, alongside the amazing Saioa Hernández, Gregory Kunde, and Luca Salsi—a lifetime experience to share the stage with them!
I will soon debut the role of Beppe in L'amico Fritz by P. Mascagni at Teatro Goldoni in Livorno. Can't wait to be back in a trouser role!
Member Spotlight: Rachael Hughes - Soprano
AO News, Audition Oracle – Tue 24 Jun 2025 @ 12:11
This week's Member Spotlight features Welsh soprano Rachael Hughes.
1. How do you describe yourself as an artist?
Passionate, driven and always looking to connect with others.
2. What other skills or passions do you have that help shape you as an artist?
I love to teach, I feel I learn more about my craft from teaching than anything else. Children really do put things in perspective and offer inner wisdom you sometimes really need!
3. What has been the most memorable and rewarding experience you have had as an artist?
Although I have loved my solo work and always strive for this, I thoroughly adored working with the La Bohème chorus in Longborough. I jumped in last minute and really made beautiful connections and friendships with everyone there. This made the shows even more special.
4. What role, company or performing situation would be a dream come true for you as an artist?
In the perfect world: anything Puccini with a beautiful cast and creative team in any Italian House.
5. What do you like most about being a creative artist?
I don’t follow the ‘usual’ path. Although not everyone agrees with my career path it’s something purely that I love and I can wholeheartedly never regret a day of work that I do.
6. If you could go back in time and give your younger self one piece of advice, what would it be?
Just follow your dream sooner! I started operatic singing later and only really seriously pursued it on a Masters course. Start sooner! Ignore the rhetoric of how hard it will be.
7. Three words that are the pillars you shape your career by:
Lead with love.
8. Where can our members support your performances?
I’m in Hertfordshire Opera Gala Competition July 6th, a Summer recital in Tattenhall on the 27th and then my next booking is Christmas with my hometown orchestra Wrexham Symphony Orchestra.
Member Spotlight: Julia Merino - mezzo-soprano
AO News, Audition Oracle – Thu 12 Jun 2025 @ 17:52
1. How do you describe yourself as an artist?
2. What other skills or passions do you have that help shape you as an artist?
3. What has been the most memorable and rewarding experience you have had as an artist?
4. What role, company or performing situation would be a dream come true for you as an artist?
5. What do you like most about being a creative artist?
6. If you could go back in time and give your younger self one piece of advice, what would it be?
7. Three words that are the pillars you shape your career by:
8. Do you have any performances coming up that our members could come and support you at?
Frog in Your Throat: When your voice stops playing ball, what next?
AO News, Audition Oracle – Wed 4 Jun 2025 @ 16:44
Frog in Your Throat: When your voice stops playing ball, what next?
As someone who no longer has skin—well, vocal cords—in the game, it’s easy for me to talk about this now. But for anyone currently struggling with vocal issues, I know it can be an entirely different story.
During my time as a singer, I had to recover my voice more than once. The third major episode came in 2013. The silver lining? It finally pushed me to set up Audition Oracle—a service I’d wanted myself as a performer and had been considering since 2006.
That year, I developed adult whooping cough—also known as the “100-day cough.” By the end of it, my voice was wild, wobbly, and unreliable, with two notes missing entirely from the middle of my range. I will never forget the stress of trying to find appropriate audition repertoire that avoided those two notes!
Trusting your inner voice
I consulted a well-known vocal specialist—but the experience was both disappointing and expensive. They insisted on examining me with a rigid scope while holding my tongue, which made no sense. My vocal issues occurred on just two specific notes, and there was no way I could phonate normally under those conditions. Their conclusion? “Your cords are fine—it’s all in your mind.”
Not satisfied, I sought a second opinion with a different an ENT specialist with a flexible and collaborative approach. This time, I requested a nasal scope and asked to sing the actual problematic notes so that any issue would present itself in real time. This time, something was visible: there appeared to be a problem with my arytenoid cartilage. Initially, it looked dislocated. The prognosis? Uncertain and unpromising. A stitch might hold it in place—but my vocal function would likely be compromised.
I returned to Nicholas Gibbins again, this time with Jacob Lieberman (affectionately known in the industry as the “Willesden Strangler”) in tow. With a camera up my nose and Jacob manipulating my larynx as I sang, we were able to determine that the problem was muscular. Thankfully, the arytenoid wasn’t dislocated. The intense coughing had caused a muscular imbalance, restricting the natural movement of my voice.
Moving forward armed with knowledge
At that point, I knew exactly who to call: Arwel Treharne Morgan. I had worked with this breath and release specialist on and off since 2002. I knew he could help bring my awareness to the issue, release unnecessary tension, and re-establish vocal freedom—until I could maintain it on my own.
Now, I won’t pretend Arwel—or anyone—can fix everything. Ultimately, only you can do that. But he was one of the missing pieces in my puzzle at the time. He might be part of yours, too. Only you can know.
Support systems, not solo solutions
Rarely does any one person outside of yourself have all the answers. As singers, we have a wide range of demands—language, diction, stylistics, musicianship, interpretation, mindset, resonance, and vocal technique. All require care and attention. Placing all responsibility on one individual is unrealistic—and unfair to both them and yourself.
Working with Arwel helped me remove the wobble and restore the missing notes. I won’t pretend I addressed every other vocal or performance area at that time, but I regained my voice, and returned to singing at the level I had previously worked.
Fluctuations in vocal consistency are normal and more prevalent than you may realise
Losing your voice—when it's both your livelihood and your passion—is deeply distressing. Pretending otherwise is disingenuous to yourself and all the many hours of work you have committed. But when you’re in the thick of it, speaking openly or seeking help can feel risky.
But please know this: confidential, practical, and holistic help is available—both financially and professionally.
Support Resources:
BAPAM – British Association for Performing Arts Medicine
Help Musicians UK
Nicholas Gibbins – ENT Specialist
Arwel Treharne Morgan - Holistic approach to reconnecting you with your vocal function
Valentine Voice Care – Kate Valentine has built an incredible practice in Lewes and Scotland. A former high-level singer herself, she truly understands what you're going through.
If you'd like to contact privately about anything I’ve shared here, feel free to email me - [email protected]