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Arriving at conservatoire: prepared, or playing catch-up?
Music Makers: In Conversation, with conductor John Andrews
Music Makers: In Conversation with Dame Sarah Connolly
News & Views
Arriving at conservatoire: prepared, or playing catch-up?
Audition Oracle – Thu 30 Apr 2026 @ 7:41
There is a lot of discussion at the moment about funding pressure, tighter programming, and fewer risks across the opera world.
All of that is real. But something else surfaced this month that is worth paying attention to.
A targeted step towards closing the access gap
The Royal Academy of Music has introduced a fully funded Foundation Year, with places ring-fenced for state-educated students who have not had the same level of access to training.
You can read about it here: https://www.ram.ac.uk/study/courses/foundation-year
There has been some pushback on the decision to limit places in this way, particularly around whether restricting access by schooling risks excluding talented applicants who also fall outside traditional pathways.
It is worth being clear what the criteria actually are. Applicants must:
- have been educated in the UK state sector
- be aged 18 to 20
- be UK domiciled
- demonstrate financial challenge through a means-tested assessment
- be able to commit to a full year of study in London
In this case, both criteria are being used, state education and means-testing, which feels like a sensible, belt-and-braces approach.
Neither measure is perfect in isolation. Many of my peers came from very comfortable backgrounds, and a significant number were in receipt of full means-tested maintenance grants. Financial circumstances are not always visible, which makes identifying genuine need more complex. Some students at private schools were also not necessarily wealthy, for example where parents worked within the system.
But regardless of income, those who had been in environments with greater exposure to classical music, and to the unspoken expectations that surround it, often arrived with a deeper understanding of how that world works. That kind of knowledge and confidence can make a real difference to how someone arrives at conservatoire, and how much they are able to make of it once they are there.
Arriving behind
When I arrived at music college, I was greener than Kermit the Frog.
I had not grown up in a family immersed in classical music. There had been no opera trips, no summer choral courses, no national youth choir, and no real sense of how any of this worked or what was expected.
I was lucky in many ways. The teachers at my state schools really cared about classical music. One had been a professional cellist. I worked weekends to pay for singing lessons I wanted to attend. At that time, we also had the opportunity to learn instruments at school.
But in terms of repertoire, musicianship, and basic understanding of the classical world, I was behind. I had never even seen an opera.
“Too late” at 19
Arriving at college at 19 and being told it was already too late, that I didn’t know nearly enough, was, looking back, ridiculous.
Too late because I was not already:
- at a certain level on the piano
- fluent in repertoire I had never been exposed to
- able to sight-sing
Of course it was not too late.
What would have been more constructive is a simple and pragmatic approach. You are here. How exciting. You have this time at college, let’s make the most of it. Here is what we can do in lessons, and what you can do in your own time to broaden your knowledge.
That kind of thinking was missing, both on my part and in the wider training culture.
What this changes
And that is why this Foundation Year feels so sensible. It creates a bridge between potential and preparation. It gives singers the time, structure, and guidance to arrive at undergraduate training ready to make the most of it.
Instead of a crushing sense of needing to catch up, they have the space to build the skills, knowledge, and confidence that others may have absorbed earlier.
They meet their peers not only with raw talent, but with a clearer understanding of the full breadth of what the career actually demands.
It is small. Only a handful of places. But it is targeted, funded, and practical.
And that is a start.
There is also a related question sitting behind this, not just about different starting points, but about what conservatoire training itself needs to look like now. The demands of the profession have shifted, and what singers need to be equipped with is not quite the same as it was even twenty years ago. Another subject wroth returning to.
Were you ready for college?
We’d be really interested to hear your experience — did you arrive feeling prepared, or playing catch-up? You can share your thoughts at [email protected]
Music Makers: In Conversation, with conductor John Andrews
Audition Oracle – Wed 15 Apr 2026 @ 0:38
Music Makers: In Conversation, with conductor John Andrews
In this series, we look beyond the formal lists of biographies and CVs to explore the repertoire artists return to, and the music they feel most deeply connected to.
Today we are delighted to share the responses of conductor John Andrews.
Piece you hum round the house / sing in the shower
To the extreme annoyance of my family, I don’t hum around the house, but rather I tend to grind my teeth to whatever’s in my head, and as a consequence can never remember it...
First piece you remember studying or conducting
I set myself to memorise the Beethoven, Brahms and late Mozart symphonies in my late teens (how my life has changed!) and it was probably the Eroica that I first put really concentrated effort into studying.
A piece/work you return to professionally
As a freelancer I don’t get a lots of choice in this but I love to come back to Dvořák’s Stabat Mater and Vaughan Williams’ Dona Nobis Pacem as often as I can get away with it. But my love of exploring new repertoire has tended to mean that I don’t get back to these pieces (and the operas of Mozart, Rossini, and the 19th-century symphonists) that often. But absence does make the heart grow fonder and the revisiting of them all the more rewarding.
Last piece of music you deliberately chose to listen to:
I find it difficult to listen for pure pleasure now, which I suppose is always the risk when you make your love your job. It will have been either Renaissance polyphony or jazz - something I’ll never be called on to have a professional opinion of...
Work you feel most emotionally connected to
Both Don Giovanni and Le nozze di Figaro were formative early experiences that I feel deeply connected to; also both the Fauré and Duruflé requiems are now linked to the passing of people very dear to me.
A work you would love to conduct one day
SO MANY! Boris Godunov, Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk, Die Walküre, Falstaff in the theatre. The Symphonies of Emilie Mayer and Grace Williams, The Elgar oratorios and the War Requiem; but I’m also always looking for the next discovery!
To find out more about the work of John Andrews, please visit his website → https://www.johnkandrews.com.
Music Makers: In Conversation with Dame Sarah Connolly
Audition Oracle – Wed 25 Mar 2026 @ 9:14
We begin our new series, Music Makers: In Conversation, with Dame Sarah Connolly.
Sarah has shared the pieces that have stayed with her, shaping her work both on and off the stage.
In this series, we look beyond the formal lists of biographies and CVs to explore the repertoire artists return to, and the music they feel most deeply connected to.
We asked Sarah to respond to the following prompts:
Aria I hum round the house / sing in the shower
“Tu, preparati a morire" from Ariodante. I find it perfectly expresses my combative feelings towards certain politicians and a certain ex.
First aria I remember learning
Dido’s Lament and Wayward sisters from Dido & Aeneas. My school put on a concert performance with the local boys school. I wasn’t in the concert but the music and one or two of the boys interested me!
Aria I rely on professionally
"Verdi prati" (Alcina); "Va tacito" (Giulio Cesare); "Will the sun forget to streak" (Solomon).
Last piece of music I deliberately chose to listen to
Some Chausson songs I didn’t know.
Aria I feel most emotionally connected to
Dido’s Lament. There’s something so personal about her farewell and her apology to Belinda for causing so much drama and trouble. The sophisticated harmonic structure and perfect melody inspires me to sing it differently each time.
Aria I wish I could sing / would love to learn next
I wish I could sing Wagner’s Liebestod but that will never happen. I would like to learn the role of La principessa from Suor Angelica. It’s a devastating scene emotionally and the music is really dramatic.
To explore more of Sarah Connolly’s work, visit:
https://www.sarah-connolly.co.uk
Music That Stays: discovering local carol traditions
Wed 31 Dec 2025 @ 6:09
This is not a move to a dream home or long-imagined destination, but a temporary relocation to manage relationships and life responsibilities. Being able to work largely remotely made the move possible, even if the logistics have been far from simple; emotionally, it has opened up something more unexpected. I have always enjoyed new beginnings. Starting again often feels quietly exciting and, perhaps surprisingly, relatively free of expectation.
Arriving somewhere new
Stumbling into song
Stepping into a local pub, hearty carols poured from a packed-out side room and greeted us in the hallway. My eyes lit up.
Any singer reading this will know December’s particular madness well: oratorio, concert and service after service, right through to Christmas morning. Gone are the days when my own final run-up to Christmas included multiple Carols by Candlelight performances at the Royal Albert Hall. The highlight of that punishing schedule was always the moment when Steven Devine would silence the choir and we would sit, listening to a packed-out hall sing Away in a Manger. Magical. Then I would leg it to midnight mass before crawling back into central London for the morning service. No doubt many of you are still recovering from similarly relentless schedules.
Strangely familiar?
Back at our accommodation, with curiosity piqued, I went looking for what I had just experienced and found the Castle Carols project in Bishop’s Castle:
https://castlecarols.com/castle-carols-2/
That page, in turn, alerted me to something closer to my new home: a long-running carol-singing tradition associated with Sheffield and North Derbyshire:
https://castlecarols.com/the-sheffield-carols/
Where these songs went
What I love most is the reminder that tradition is rarely one neat, fixed thing. It is messy and local and lived. It evolves. It travels. It splits into versions. It survives because people decide it matters.
Closer to home
I would love to hear about yours.
Are there musical traditions where you live that outsiders rarely encounter? Songs, carols, choirs, gatherings, rituals, or ways of making music that are rooted in place? If so, do tell us. Reply to this email and share a tradition local to you (and where it is kept alive). I would love to learn what exists beyond my own musical map.
And yes, I will admit to a small note of disappointment that I did not get to sing the descant to O Come, All Ye Faithful even once this Christmas. There is always next year.
Wishing you all a wonderful New Year’s Eve and a very happy New Year, wherever you are in the world.
Melanie
Founder, Audition Oracle
PS If you know of local musical gatherings, traditions or seasonal rituals, whether close to home or further afield, I am all ears.
Who’s in the audience today?
Thu 18 Dec 2025 @ 8:44
Who’s in the audience today?
Before the interval lights went down at a recent performance, I found myself chatting to the woman seated next to me. Half the show had already been experienced, and I asked a simple question: how are you enjoying the opera?
Sally is 76. She spoke with real enthusiasm about the production, praising the voices and adding, entirely unprompted, that she didn’t mind the modern dress at all. That alone made me curious. So I asked another question, one I’ve increasingly come to value.
What brought you here today?
Sally grew up listening to old-school musical theatre in the family home — the kind many of us can still hear in our heads decades later. Later came Andrew Lloyd Webber, and operetta such as Die Lustige Witwe. For Sally (and for many), those shows formed a tangible bridge to opera.
In her twenties, living in London, a boyfriend took her to the opera. That first visit marked the beginning of a relationship with opera that has now lasted over 55 years.
Compound interest at its best.
These days, living near Grantham, Sally enjoys seeing opera more locally, in part because it’s more affordable. We find ourselves at the Theatre Royal, Nottingham. She also likes to be close to the action. She knows she could sit in the balcony in London, but she wants a good seat. We’re in the stalls.
Cinema screenings are another way she and her friends keep opera in their lives now. Not the same as live, she says, but good enough. And crucially, accessible.
I asked Sally how she finds opera in its original language. “Oh, I prefer it,” she exclaims. She goes on to explain that she was a language teacher and speaks several languages, and that she loves recognising words and working out the meaning as she listens. It’s also worth noting: Sally doesn’t sing, and she doesn’t play any musical instruments.
Listening to her, I am reminded that many of us start in similar places — musical theatre as a first doorway, then operetta, then opera. Different generations. Familiar pathways.
After the show, I spoke to Liz, 82. She and Sally had come as part of a larger group that enjoys live theatre and music, travelling together for over an hour to attend the weekday matinee. Her eyes were still brimming with tears long after the cast had left the stage.
What struck me most was this: when Sally and Liz come to the opera, their bodies arrive carrying decades of emotional investment. They have seen many productions of La Bohème. They know the story inside out and have shed many tears before. They take their seats already primed to respond emotionally to an opera they know well.
For us as singers and instrumentalists, it’s a gift we sometimes forget: audiences don’t require perfection to be moved. They need commitment — to the music, the story, and the moment. We are enough more often than we realise.
Everyone I spoke to at that performance commented on the power of music to shift them out of their current state. To transport them. To move them towards feeling something different to whatever they arrived carrying. That is no small thing to offer another human being in the middle of an ordinary week.
And it’s also why I want to encourage something very simple over the coming weeks.
If you find yourself at a performance, try talking to the person seated next to you — mid-interval, post-show, or before the interval lights go down. Not to network. Not to gather data. Just to ask one human question:
What brought you here today?
Some of the most beautiful, ordinary and extraordinary conversations I’ve had started as a very simple exchange. In this case, when I came back to my seat in the interval and squeezed past, Sally joked that she was glad I hadn’t returned clutching an ice cream — she’d have been very jealous. For me, that was an invitation to talk.
Sometimes conversations end there. Sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they make the day.
If you do end up having one of those conversations and feel like noting it, you could use #WhosInTheAudienceToday. Not to label anyone. Just to notice them.
Melanie Lodge
Founder, Audition Oracle