Australian radio interview coming up

Posted by Susan Tomes on 19 June 2015 under Books, Musings  •  Leave a comment

I recently did an interview with Andrew Ford of the Australian Broadcasting Corporation’s ‘The Music Show’. We talked mainly about my book ‘Sleeping in Temples’, but strayed onto other topics such as why it is that, in the last movement of Beethoven’s E major piano sonata opus 109, it’s so touching when the theme comes back at the end of the variations.

The interview will be broadcast on Sunday 21st June at 11am Australian time – I’ve given up trying to understand what time you’d need to listen to it ‘live’ if you’re in the UK, but you can listen to the interview here on the show’s website. You can also download the interview.

Herald review of Aurea Quartet and me

Posted by Susan Tomes on 14 June 2015 under Concerts, Reviews  •  1 Comment

1970680_929137783791594_5088409592815780663_n[1]On Friday I played Mozart’s K414 concerto with the Aurea Quartet in the Cottier Festival in Glasgow. Today’s Herald carries a delightful review by senior critic Michael Tumelty; as the Herald Online is sometimes tricky for non-subscribers to access, here is the review.


‘THERE are some moments in concert performance where everything, magically, just clicks. It’s the time, it’s the place, it’s the space, it’s the people playing, it’s the music to hand; it’s the crowd, it’s the atmosphere, it’s the occasion and it’s the vibe, as we used to say. It’s the moment, as all these strands feed into, reinforce and enhance one another, resulting in a cumulative effect that transcends definition, when the word synchronicity looms again in my mind.

It comes unbidden, but, to me, it seems the exact word with which to explain the grace and power of the enthralling performances that clearly captivated the large audience which turned out on Friday night for the unexpected but riveting combination of pieces by Mozart and Shostakovich in the Cottier Chamber Project.

I’ve gone on and on here for decades about the fact that it is not necessary in performance to shout in order to be heard. And that was exemplified in the absolutely beautiful performance by Susan Tomes of Mozart’s A major Piano Concerto, K414, in its chamber version, written by the composer himself, for just piano and string quartet. Tomes’ exquisite scaling of the piece in this form was perfectly-matched to the close-up environment, the intimacy of the accompaniment by the Aurea Quartet and the spellbound atmosphere in the venue.

And that actually flowed, almost naturally, with no sense of stylistic dichotomy, into a magnetic performance by the group of Shostakovich’s Eighth String Quartet which was so quietly but fiercely concentrated that the abrupt eruption into the second movement seemed volcanic: a rather special musical experience.’
Herald, 14 June 2015

Herald review of Friday’s Cottier Chamber concert

Posted by Susan Tomes on 7 June 2015 under Concerts, Reviews  •  Leave a comment

Today’s Herald carries a review, by senior critic Michael Tumelty, of Friday’s Cottier Chamber Project opening night. As the review is only accessible online to subscribers, I’ll post it here.

Susan Tomes/Daniel’s Beard, Cottier’s Theatre, Glasgow

‘THERE was a marvellous sense on Friday night of the Cottier Chamber Project setting out its stall and throwing open its doors, with a roll call of its wares on display for opening night: musical market traders to Glasgow’s west end for the next three weeks, with the launch night offering three very different options, back to back with breaks in between, and running at 6.30, 8.30 and from 10.30 to beyond midnight with off-the-wall musical buccaneers, Mr McFall’s Chamber, taking the music towards the wee sma’ hours and into tango territory.

Honours for opening the night, and the festival, fell to the woodwinds of host ensemble Daniel’s Beard which, with a warmth that is the closest we’ve come to the real article on many of these allegedly “summer” days, bathed Cottier’s in the lyrical glow of Samuel Barber’s beautiful Summer Music, from which point the winds were joined for the rest of the concert by one of the UK’s most distinguished chamber pianists, Susan Tomes, now returned to her native Scotland, and making the first of numerous appearances in different strands of the festival.

Instantly, Tomes stamped (gently) her characteristic refinement, polish and understatement onto her music – she forces nothing, puts nothing under pressure – with her pristine pianism effortlessly teasing out the elliptical contours, rhythms and character from Judith Weir’s wonderful Airs from Another Planet, four traditional Scottish tunes, magically transported to an imagined Martian environment. And then Tomes at her most supremely elegant, with four of the wind players, rounded off with a lovely, stylish performance of Mozart’s great Quintet for Piano and Winds.’  The Herald, 7.6.15

Peter Cropper

Posted by Susan Tomes on 2 June 2015 under Concerts, Inspirations  •  Leave a comment

Sad news about the death of Peter Cropper, inspirational first violinist of the Lindsay Quartet.

I didn’t know Peter so well myself, but always felt connected to the Lindsays because the original viola player of my group Domus, Robin Ireland, moved to become the viola player of the Lindsays. We were always hearing tales of the quartet’s activities. With my chamber companions I often played in the Lindsays’ festival in the Sheffield’s Crucible Theatre. It was always a pleasure to see the degree of loyalty which Peter and the quartet had built up in their Sheffield audience, some of whom followed the quartet about on its travels. I remember talking to some folk who didn’t have much money, but had acquired a tent and researched ways of camping as near as possible to where The Lindsays were going to be performing. I began to recognise the fanatical shine in the eyes of the true Lindsay Quartet believer.

It was easy to see why Peter inspired such devotion. He was passionate about quartets and chamber playing in general, and spoke eloquently about the music to the audience before playing it. His own playing was an extraordinary mixture of fire, imagination and strength, with a kind of Beethovenian roughness as part of the mix. I sometimes thought he looked a bit like a German woodcarving of the kind that Beethoven might have had on his mantelpiece.

I remember once when Peter, playing a Beethoven quartet, became so engrossed that he moved further and further to the front of his chair, eventually slipping right off the front and sinking on one knee to the ground without ceasing to play. He righted himself with a smile. Needless to say such all-out commitment to the music made a deep impression on us all.

As one of the London fraternity I always thought it was brave, perhaps foolhardy of Peter to nail his colours to the mast of South Yorkshire and refuse to move to the capital. But when I saw how revered the quartet was in its chosen home territory, I began to understand. Later still I came to think it was exactly the kind of de-centralisation which is increasingly important. London has such an over-supply of good musicians and I think Peter was ahead of his time in seeing that for the health of music-making in the country, there had to be centres of excellence elsewhere. Furthermore, Sheffield was minutes away from glorious countryside, and this was part of its charm for the quartet and its fans.

Peter was a brilliant advocate for chamber music, able to fire up people by his speaking and teaching as well as his playing. Perhaps equally importantly, he was an entrepreneur, tireless in promoting The Lindsays, and later on, energetic in creating opportunities for young players in the North East and teaching them how to promote themselves. Many of us could learn from his example.

Should we promote our own concerts?

Posted by Susan Tomes on 27 May 2015 under Concerts, Daily Life, Musings  •  6 Comments

There’s been quite a lot written lately about the need for musicians to ‘be their own promoters’ and organise their own concerts. In the face of declining opportunities for classical music, many musicians have embraced the idea of putting on their own concerts and starting their own festivals.

My own professional work has always been a blend of invitations and own promotions, dating back to the days of Domus when my chamber partners and I played in our own portable concert hall (the story is told in my first book ‘Beyond the Notes’). I’ve always been involved in starting things from scratch and making things happen.

However, I never had any training for these entrepreneurial tasks, and I never felt  suited to doing them. I learned on the job but found it arduous and ridiculously time-consuming – and I still do. And I’ve long recognised that there are many musicians who, for whatever reason, either can’t or won’t promote their own concerts. None of us was trained in the administrative, legal and financial knowledge needed to put on public events and charge money to attend them. As soon as you broach these matters you can get into deep water; you need expertise to negotiate them safely. What happens, for example, if a member of the audience trips and breaks their ankle at your concert, or has their handbag stolen from under their seat as you play? What if someone has a fit, and you haven’t provided any First Aiders? What if a hired piano falls through the budget staging you couldn’t afford to improve? What if your fellow musicians won’t play without being offered a fee you have no idea you’ll be able to pay?

Although I see why people think we should put on their own concerts, I also think it’s unfair that we find ourselves in this position. Nobody would expect, say, Roger Federer to have to raise money to pay Rafael Nadal to come over and play him in a tennis match. Nobody would expect him to have to print posters and leaflets for the event, and then drive around town distributing them, tying them to railings, and writing constant updates on social media. He wouldn’t have to find wages for everyone involved in making the match happen and then spend weeks trying to get the press interested. Nobody would expect him to pay his own money upfront to hire a venue and then wait months to see whether the ticket income will repay the costs.

I have some young musician friends who recently went out on a limb to promote an enterprising classical series with educational outreach and commissions of new music (all of which is exactly what we musicians are always being told we should do). They did fundraising, hired a concert hall and paid a PR agency to do the marketing. But the unusual programming and the new works turned out not to attract the audiences they needed. The sponsorship money, such as it was, didn’t cover the costs.

After it was all over, they found they had made a substantial loss. When the bills were paid, they had to pay the shortfall out of their own pockets (surprise, surprise: the only people prepared to be flexible about getting paid were themselves). Not only had they worked for a year to promote these events, and not only did they make no profit, but it actually cost them money to put on their own concerts.

Their experience is not unique.  Hiring a ‘quality venue’ and publicising an own promotion can cost thousands of pounds upfront. You may get it back; you may not. You may even make a profit, or what appears on paper to be a profit, but it won’t begin to repay you for the time you’ve spent on the administration, fundraising, publicity and so on. No musician can afford to do that more than occasionally, if they can afford to do it at all. And all of this is incidental to the actual work of practising and rehearsing the music itself.

So when I hear all this talk about how we must bite the bullet and organise our own concerts, I feel very conscious of how few of us will succeed in doing so. We don’t become musicians because we’re good at spreadsheets and technical specifications. We become musicians because nature has given us the gifts to master musical instruments, and because we want to share our music with other people. It’s all very well saying that we must learn to become promoters, but some of the best of us are just not equipped with that entirely different range of skills.