News & Views

Music Makers: with Roderick Williams

Audition Oracle – Tue 5 May 2026 @ 10:39

This week we welcome baritone and composer Roderick Williams, whose expressive storytelling, stylistic versatility, and thoughtful musicianship have made him one of the most distinctive voices in opera, oratorio, and song.

Portrait of Roderick Williams, wearing a white open-collar shirt, facing the camera with a calm expression against a soft grey background.


1. Aria you hum round the house / sing in the shower

Okay - it’s a bit weird… but I often sing “La donna e mobile” in the shower (possibly a bit lower than written) to my own words “I am a baritone: I should have stayed at home…” and so on.


2. First aria you remember learning

One of my first singing teachers taught me “Thus saith the Lord” and “For he is like a refiner’s fire” from Handel’s Messiah. I sang them at my choral scholarship auditions. I didn’t realise till some time later that the aria is normally sung by an alto.


3. Aria you rely on professionally

It’s likely I’ve sung the Messiah arias more than any other. Calculating conservatively, I’d say I’ve sung 4 a year for the last 35 years but it could easily be more than that. And as a baritone rather than a bass, I actively look forward to “The Trumpet Shall Sound”. The other bass arias in Messiah can be a bit forbidding but this one is full of joy and hope.


4. Last piece of music you deliberately chose to listen to

Mahler’s First Symphony. Don’t laugh, but I’m due to conduct it soon, for a chamber ensemble. I’m trying to immerse myself in as many different performances as possible.


5. Aria you feel most emotionally connected to

This took me a while to unpack, because the operatic characters I have played are experiencing situations I have never (and hopefully will never) experience myself. To see the world through their eyes is cathartic for me but it is not my story. The closest I can suggest is Billy Budd’s aria “Look through the port” because of his relentless positivity in the face of dire circumstances. But I am not Billy: that is not my life and I am not that person.


6. Aria you wish you could sing / would love to learn next

When your voice eventually settles you come to terms with the fact that there are arias you will never sing. I will never sing Puccini’s greatest tenor arias - “Che gelida la manina” for example. I suspect my tenor friends would say I’m well rid! But to be able to nail that… what a thrill!!



Explore more of Roderick Williams’ work https://www.grovesartists.com/artist/roderick-williams/

 

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Arriving at conservatoire: prepared, or playing catch-up?

Audition Oracle – Thu 30 Apr 2026 @ 7:41

Singer heading into a practice room with a grand piano. She is clutching a vocal score of Schubert lieder

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]

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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.

Portrait of conductor John Andrews, looking directly at the camera, wearing a black shirt against a neutral background.

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.

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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.

Dame Sarah Connolly mid-performance, singing on stage in formal black concert attire with gold detailing, warmly lit against an orchestral backdrop.

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

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Music That Stays: discovering local carol traditions

Wed 31 Dec 2025 @ 6:09

People heartily singing together in a community space 

 
As we hurtle towards the new year, I find myself mid-move to a part of the UK I know very little about.

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

My new base is Belper, Derbyshire. I have no real sense yet of what this area holds for me musically. On paper, there is plenty nearby: Buxton Opera House, home to both the Buxton International Festival and the International Gilbert and Sullivan Festival, and Sheffield, where English Touring Opera is in the process of relocating its base. But proximity to activity is not the same as knowing a place — wherever in the world you happen to be based. If you are in these parts, do drop me an email at [email protected]. It is always a pleasure to meet new people and begin to understand a local scene from the inside.
 

Stumbling into song

To escape the relentlessness of juggling personal life, AO, and making the house habitable, we came away for a few days to Shropshire over Twixmas to walk, see ancient trees, and rest — including a short detour to the Candelabra Oak in neighbouring Herefordshire. In the way these things often happen, I stumbled into something musical entirely by accident.

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?

As I settled in and attempted to join O Come, O Come Emmanuel and While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks by Night, something felt off. Familiar fragments of melody and lyric surfaced, but they did not quite align with what my musical memory anticipated. For a brief moment, I questioned my own memory, as this way of singing was clearly second nature to everyone else. I had not forgotten the carols; I had stepped into a different local tradition — something the regulars around me were only too happy to explain.

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

Local carol traditions are sustained through communal memory and participation—often learned by ear and carried forward across generations. As church music and liturgy became increasingly standardised in the nineteenth century, many local variants fell out of regular church use. Rather than disappearing, some communities carried them into secular and community spaces, where they continued to be sung, remembered, and passed on.

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

So here we are, with the new year not yet rung in, and a new home base already beginning to shape how I listen. I still love the carols and settings I grew up with, but this experience has deepened my interest in the local paths music takes — how it emerges, shifts, and settles in different places.

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.

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