From Yesterday to Today: The Music of Papagena

 by Maureen Buja  July 13th, 2026

The all-female a cappella vocal quintet Papagena was formed in 2015, and is made up of sopranos Elizabeth Drury, Imogen Ram-Prasad, and Suzzie Vango; mezzo-soprano Shivani Rattan; and alto Sarah Tenant-Flowers.

Papagena

Each of the members brings a speciality to the group. Of particular note is Sarah Tenant-Flowers, who is one of today’s leading choral directors and is known for her choral arrangements, many of which are on this recording. Many of her arrangements, such as Monteverdi‘s ‘Sì, ch’io vorrei morire’, are to bring the traditional 5 voice SSATB voicing into Papagena’s SSSMA range.

On their new recording, Tomorrow is Today: Songs of Love, Beauty, and the Passing of Time, the group covers some 10 centuries of music, starting with the 11th century nun Hildegard of Bingen’s ‘O cruor sanguinis’ (O stream of blood), an antiphon that asks the Lord to ‘anoint us against our fragilities’ to Caroline Shaw (b. 1982) and her setting of Francesca Turini Bufalini, Contessa di Stupinigi ‘s 1628 poem ‘Dolce Cantavi’ (Sweetly Sing) about how the little bird’s song ‘makes my days complete in their joy’. Other songs celebrate the colourful Hindu festival of Holi that marks the coming of Spring, the uncertainty of childbirth (Kate Bush’s ‘This Woman’s Work’), and folk songs from Bulgaria, Yoruba, and Ukraine.

Traditional and modern folk come together in the work of Sandy Denny (1947–1978). Former lead singer for the British folk rock band Fairport Convention, she was described as ‘the pre-eminent British folk-rock singer/songwriter of her time’. ‘Who Knows Where the Time Goes?’, written in 1966, is her reflection on the seasons and how love changes over time.

As a collection, there’s something here to appeal to all tastes. The songs (and their arrangements) complement each other – the vocal techniques in Monteverdi’s ‘Sì, ch’io vorrei morire’ are matched by those in Caroline Shaw’s ‘Dolce Cantavi’ (for vocal trio) of over 400 years later, although with considerably sharper harmonies! All those evocative words, such as ‘desire’, ‘ripples’, ‘murmuring’, have their meanings embedded in the music beautifully.

Caroline Shaw: Dolce Cantavi

In ‘Welcome Somer’, Don Macdonald (b. 1966) set a text by Chaucer from his Parlement of Foules, the banishment of winter’s dark is celebrated by the welcoming of the new bright season.

As the subtitle for the album says, these are ‘Songs of Love, Beauty, and the Passing of Time’ and will take you so many places: into a new season, into new mountains, or into love. It’s a collection that is not only tremendously rewarding to hear but also to think about.

Papagena launched their sound with their first album in 2017, Nuns and Roses. Their next albums were issued by SOMM: The Darkest Midnight (2018, SOMMCD 0189), Hush! (2020, SOMMCD 0608), and now Tomorrow is Today (2026). Join the ensemble in a recording that brings together all the world in celebration of ‘Love, Beauty, and the Passing of Time’.

Tomorrow is Today: Songs of Love, Beauty, and the Passing of Time

Papagena
SOMM Recordings SOMMCD 0721

Official Website

How Neuroscience Helps Musicians ‘Learn Faster, Perform Better’

 by Bruce Robinson  July 14th, 2026

At last there’s an evidence-based guide to practising

For centuries, celebrated musicians have shared their thoughts on technique and artistry in memoirs, essays and interviews. Yet remarkably few have written about the daily act of practising. Professional violist Molly Gebrian laments that it took her nearly two decades to learn how to practice: “If only there had been a handbook on how to practice!” She has now provided one.

Learn Faster, Perform Better by Molly Gebrian (Oxford University Press)

Gebrian, who teaches at New England Conservatory, holds degrees in both music and neuroscience. In her recent book, Learn Faster, Perform Better, she draws on empirical research from neuroscience and cognitive psychology to offer practical advice for musicians. Her recommendations are grounded in science, but they are anything but dry—they are actionable, surprising, and frequently transformative.

What is practice, really?

One of Gebrian’s central tenets is that simply playing through a piece is not practising. “Practising is problem solving,” she writes. She advocates for deliberate practice, defined by Anders Ericsson in 1993 as working on specific skills to address weaknesses and eliminate errors. But how should that be done?

Neuroscience and musical practice

Throughout Learn Faster, Gebrian translates complex neurological concepts into plain language, then applies them directly to music. Her “brain basics” underlie much of the book:

• The brain consists of billions of neurons that communicate across tiny gaps called synapses. When a neuron sends a message, it releases neurotransmitters that bind to receptors on neighbouring neurons, generating electrical signals.

• Every time you practice or learn something new, you are physically changing your brain, strengthening some neural pathways and weakening others.

• The goal of much practice, therefore, is to reinforce the pathways that produce correct playing while diminishing those that encode mistakes. As Gebrian puts it, practice is about which pathways you are reinforcing.

Mistakes, she insists, are not merely acceptable but essential: they reveal where the neural wiring needs attention. Once a problem is identified and corrected, Gebrian recommends repeating the passage five times in a row without error—a process that helps myelinate the correct neural circuit. Myelin, the fatty sheath around neurons, thickens with correct repetition, turning good habits into automatic reflexes.

The Power of Breaks

Some of Gebrian’s most striking advice challenges long-held assumptions about hard work. Numerous studies show that marathon practice sessions are counterproductive. Breaks, she argues, are not a pause from learning—they are part of it. In one study she cites, more improvement occurred during rest periods than during the activity itself.

One process called long-term potentiation (LTP), through which synapses strengthen, requires molecular building blocks that take the brain about an hour to assemble. So when learning something new, shorter, spaced sessions are far more effective than long, continuous blocks.

The biggest break of all—sleep—is critical. With a full night of sleep, the last 25% of time, consisting of non-Rapid-Eye-Movement sleep (NREM), makes for dramatic advancement of learning. Gebrian goes so far as to say, “Getting a full night’s sleep is as beneficial as practising itself.”

Interleaving vs. blocking

Rather than “blocked” practice—focusing on one section for an extended period—Gebrian champions “interleaved” practice: switching frequently between sections, pieces, or technical tasks. This approach keeps the brain more highly engaged and leads to better retention and performance the next day, which is the true test of learning. She offers a range of interleaving strategies.

Mental practice: music without sound

Practising in your head—without movement or sound—might seem like a poor substitute for the real thing, but Gebrian shows otherwise. In one experiment, mental practice produced changes in the motor cortex as dramatic as physical practice. This technique is especially useful when the instrument is unavailable or when fine-tuning interpretation away from the physical demands of playing.

Memorisation and speed

Gebrian also provides a clear framework for memorisation, divided into three phases: encoding (initial learning), consolidation, and retrieval. Each of these calls for a different set of practice strategies. She describes a remarkable method for bringing music up to tempo—one she calls “interleaved clicking up”—which I have already adapted to my own practice with startling results. Her video demonstration of this technique is well worth watching:   

A Book That Delivers

This is, without question, the most useful book on learning music I have read. Partly what makes it exceptional is Gebrian’s ability to weave together neuroscience, behavioural research, and concrete musical application—without losing sight of the musician’s practical needs. The book describes more than 100 practice strategies. Many of her ideas and techniques are also demonstrated on her website, MollyGebrian.com.

She is not alone in this field. Psychologist Noa Kageyama, who teaches at Juilliard and the Cleveland Institute of Music, offers similarly evidence-based advice for performers at BulletproofMusician.com. Every generation of musicians builds on the last; today, science-based practice is helping that progress accelerate more than ever.

Learn Faster, Perform Better by Molly Gebrian is published by Oxford University Press.

The Most Hauntingly Slow Pieces in Classical Music

 by Emily E. Hogstad  July 11th, 2026

Slow-tempoed classical music can reshape how listeners experience time – stretching it, suspending it, or even making it disappear altogether. Today, we’re going to look at some of the slowest pieces in classical music.

The works below aren’t ranked by beats per minute, and aren’t necessarily the slowest. Instead, they’re famous pieces in which composers deliberately mark a slow and steady tempo, asking listeners to linger, reflect, and feel.

Some are consoling. Others are devastating. Taken together, they explore emotions like ritual, grief, and even transcendence.

Arvo Part – Spiegel im Spiegel   

One of the most recognisable slow classical pieces of the late 20th century, Spiegel im Spiegel (Mirror in the Mirror) moves at a steady but glacial pace.

Arvo Pärt

Its repeating piano figures and long-breathed melodic lines create a feeling of suspended calm, as if time has slowed to match a listener’s breathing and heartbeat.

Nothing rushes; nothing presses forward. The music simply exists.

Edward Elgar – Nimrod from the Enigma Variations   

Marked Adagio, “Nimrod” may not be extreme in tempo on paper. But when conductors give a particularly expansive or weighty interpretation, it can feel very slow. (Leonard Bernstein‘s interpretation was especially famous for this.)

This is dignified, almost ceremonial slowness. Emotional layers build on top of each other and accumulate with each step forward.

Edward Elgar

“Nimrod” has been a popular tribute piece for orchestras to play after national tragedies. Maybe this connotation has led to the slow speed that many conductors prefer.

Samuel Barber – Adagio for Strings   

Barber’s Adagio for Strings unfolds in one long, aching arc, with slow phrases seemingly stretched to their breaking point.

The excruciating slowness leads to an unforgettable climactic dissonance and a hushed collapse afterwards.

The music moves slowly, not because the notes are particularly long, but because the harmonies build on one another in such a heartbreaking way.

Richard Wagner – Parsifal Prelude   

Wagner‘s final opera opens with music that barely seems to move.

Marked Sehr langsam (“very slowly”), the Prelude from Parsifal sounds more like a ritual than a narrative device, establishing a sacred atmosphere in which time feels ceremonial and suspended.

Richard Wagner

Forward motion exists only to sustain a state of religious reverence, making it the perfect introduction to Wagner’s final opera, devoted to themes of spirituality and transcendence.

Ludwig van Beethoven – String Quartet No. 15 in A-minor, Movement 3   

One of the most profound slow movements ever written, the Heiliger Dankgesang (“Holy Song of Thanksgiving”) was composed after Beethoven experienced a major health scare involving intestinal issues that he feared might prove fatal.

It alternates between austere, hymn-like slowness and moments of gentle motion marked “Neue Kraft fühlend” (“feeling new strength”), when time becomes something to be contemplated.

Christian Horneman: Ludwig van Beethoven, 1803 (Beethovenhaus Bonn)

This slowness isn’t sorrowful or static; like the Parsifal Prelude, this music is spiritual.

Olivier Messiaen – Louange à l’Eternité de Jésus from Quartet for the End of Time  

Written in a German prisoner-of-war camp, this movement plays with the idea of time in multiple ways.

In the fifth movement, the cello’s endlessly sustained melody floats above softly pulsing chords, creating music that seems detached from time.

Olivier Messiaen

It can easily send a listener into a trancelike state. The reverent tempo becomes theology, reflecting Messiaen‘s steadfast Catholic faith: the slow motion seems to portray the infinite and the divine.

Gustav Mahler – Symphony No. 9, Movement 4   

Mahler‘s final completed movement is a farewell stretched to its absolute limit.

The music – written for a massive orchestra – moves slowly, then more slowly still, fragmenting as it goes.

Gustav Mahler

Rather than resolving clearly and cleanly, after nearly half an hour, it just dissolves, the strings tapering to nothing, leaving behind silence that feels both earned and irreversible. Time doesn’t stop; it just fades away.

Morton Feldman – Rothko Chapel   

Pulse is barely perceptible in Morton Feldman‘s Rothko Chapel. Sounds appear, linger, then vanish without clear direction.

In fact, Feldman removes the sense of progression almost entirely, creating music that exists for a particular duration rather than expands on a narrative. Listening feels less like following a path and more like inhabiting a space.

For good measure, here’s one last bonus piece that might be classified less as slow classical music and more as a sound experiment:

John Cage – Organ²/ASLSP (As SLow aS Possible)    

This is the outer limit of musical slowness.

Cage’s Organ²/ASLSP asks its performer to play, as the title’s acronym suggests, “as slow as possible.”

John Cage

It is currently being performed in a church in Halberstadt, Germany. That performance began in 2001 and is only scheduled to end in 2640.

Here, each note is so long that tempo ceases to function as a musical parameter at all.

Conclusion

Across eras and styles, these works reveal a shared impulse: to use slow tempos to portray a reflective mood and to ask big questions about grief, faith, and memory. Maybe the most moving music doesn’t need to go very far at all.

In their own ways, each of these pieces invites listeners to get lost in time: to be present and experience each musical moment as it comes.

Carl Czerny (Died on July 15, 1857) Beyond the Exercises

 by Hermione Lai  July 15th, 2026

Carl Czerny was an incredibly industrious musician, teaching Franz Liszt and Theodor Leschetizky and thereby training the two most important piano teachers of the 19th century. He gave as many as ten or twelve lessons a day, yet he still found time to compose an enormous amount of music.

To commemorate his passing on 15 July 1857, let us look beyond Czerny’s familiar exercises and studies by exploring some of his finest piano concertos.

How Czerny Composed

Carl Czerny wrote an astonishing amount of music. He authored over a thousand works, including nine symphonies, string quartets, chamber music, and piano concertos. I’ve read reports that Czerny had four music desks set up in his studio.

According to an often-repeated anecdote, there was a different composition on each desk, in the process of being completed. Czerny would work on one until the end of the page, then move on to the next composition to do the same.

By the time he had finished the bottom of the page on the fourth desk, the ink on the first page was dry. He could then turn the page and continue with the composition. At any rate, true or embellished, it’s a good story.

Carl Czerny as a young man

Between Admiration and Neglect

Since Czerny was also a deeply religious man, he also wrote a great deal of liturgical music, including cantatas, hymns, and eleven Masses. Franz Liszt wrote to Otto Jahn in 1852 that it is a pity that, by his super-abundant productiveness, Czerny has necessarily weakened himself.

This idea is echoed in a number of dictionaries that state that the host of lesser works has involved the really good ones in undeserved forgetfulness. Czerny was also admired by Brahms, particularly for his insights into Beethoven and the performance of these works. “There should be more respect for this excellent man,” Brahms writes to Clara Schumann.

Carl Czerny, it seems, was well-respected as a pedagogue and as a pianist. However, he was very modest by nature and never prone to self-promotion. As a student of Beethoven, Czerny tirelessly promoted Beethoven’s music above his own.

In addition, Czerny was very popular with publishers, who couldn’t get enough of his countless potpourris, fantasies, and teaching pieces. However, his serious piano pieces were considered extremely difficult to play, and there probably wasn’t a great market for them.

Czerny’s Most Famous Concerto

The Piano Concerto in A minor, Op. 214 is probably his most famous composition in this genre. It dates from 1829 and was published the following year in Leipzig. It is dedicated to the French composer, pianist, and music critic Amédée Méreaux, today remembered for his 60 Grandes Etudes, Op. 63.

Scored for strings, two flutes, two oboes, two clarinets, two bassoons, two horns, two trumpets, and timpani, Op. 214 occupies a stylistic position between the late Classical concerto tradition and the emerging Romantic virtuoso concerto.

The opening “Allegro moderato” is the longest and most substantial movement of the concerto, with a solemn orchestral introduction establishing a dramatic atmosphere. The piano enters with a dazzling display of virtuosity, which has been described as “a true compendium of the technical difficulties that pianists of the time were likely to address.”

Some commentators hear a possible Austrian folk tune in the “Adagio,” but above all, it highlights Czerny’s ability to write extended, graceful melodies that are reworked several times. The concluding “Rondo” is a cheerful dance movement with pianistic effects designed to astonish audiences.

For listeners who know Czerny only through his exercises, this concerto can be a genuine surprise. It is a large-scale and attractive concerto with flowing melodies and virtuoso demands.

Carl Czerny, 1833

Beethoven’s Influence

Although Op. 214 is often titled “Concerto No. 1,” it is hardly Czerny’s first effort in this genre. Only recently discovered, the Piano Concerto in D minor dates from 1812 and was written when Czerny was only twenty years old. It predates his famous Op. 214 by almost two decades.

This concerto bears the stylistic signature of a student deeply influenced by his teacher. Czerny began his studies with Beethoven around 1801, and by 1812, their relationship had evolved into profound admiration and respect.

Czerny openly acknowledged his indebtedness to Beethoven, and the opening “Allegro molto” unfolds as a turbulent landscape with the piano taking on the role of dramatic protagonist.

As listeners, we are treated to conversational dialogue, extended, flowing melodies, and a good deal of counterpoint. It also explores chromatic harmonies and heightened dramatic tension, with the piano anticipating the dazzling virtuosity later associated with Franz Liszt.

A surprisingly concise slow movement unfolds as a lyrical cantilena, creating a pastoral atmosphere, while the exuberant finale reveals that Czerny was more than a mere composer of exercises.

A Work of Adaptation

In this context, we might also mention the Piano Concerto in F Major, Op. 28. However, this is not an original piano concerto by Czerny, but a piano arrangement of the Third Guitar Concerto, Op. 70, by Mauro Giuliani.

The reason I have included this work as part of my blog on Czerny’s piano concertos is that it reveals yet another aspect of Czerny’s craft. Besides being a revered teacher and highly respected composer, he was also an accomplished transcriber.

In this work, Czerny transformed the solo guitar part into a highly idiomatic piano part. He retains Giuliani’s original structure, but expands the solo writing to suit the piano. He adds pianistic figuration and exploits textures impossible on the guitar.

With this arrangement, Czerny might have responded to market demands, and it was published in the early 1820s in Vienna and Paris. And since an original arrangement appears to have been crafted by Johann Nepomuk Hummel, the Czerny version is dedicated to him as well.

Concerto for Four Hands

Dating from around 1825, and first performed in public probably in 1828 at the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde in Vienna, Czerny’s Concerto for piano four-hands and orchestra in C Major, Op. 153, might well be one of his most attractive compositions.

This work adds yet another side to Czerny’s craft, as he experiments with a highly unusual concerto medium. We know the two-piano concertos by Felix Mendelssohn and Max Bruch, but Czerny predated them by decades.

A substantial “Allegro” features an energetic orchestral introduction, immediately followed by sparkling passagework in the piano. The music seems to probe the possibilities of four-hand playing, and Czerny also pays meticulous attention to each section of the orchestra.

A graceful “Adagio” provides the lyrical contrast, with plenty of trills and flourishes emphasising a mournful theme. The orchestra is reduced in spots, providing an almost chamber-like quality to the music.

The concluding “Rondo alla Polacca” uses the same title as Beethoven’s Triple Concerto, and this exuberant polonaise is enlivened by dazzling keyboard figuration and playful dialogues. The two pianists weave a tapestry of surprising complexity, yet they never get in each other’s way despite the virtuoso nature of the score.

In the featured concertos, we find Czerny far removed from his narrow image as an “exercise composer.” He was a musician of real imagination, drawing on Beethovenian drama and Viennese elegance to lead music into the emerging virtuosity of the 19th century.

“In The Zone” — How Performers Do It

 by Janet Horvath  February 28th, 2015

Alison Balsom

You can hardly believe it when you experience that rare, perfect moment when your gestures, feelings, senses and your mind are in perfect harmony. When everything “gels” you sound like you do in your mind— like Heifetz, Rubinstein, James Galway, or Alison Balsom! You’ve had an out-of-body experience and your elation at the simplicity, focus and depth renders you whole, complete and joyful. Athletes speak of searching to recreate that feeling of being “in the zone”— entirely concentrated and focused yet at ease with what they are doing. It’s a high in itself!

Similarly when we musicians meld perfectly into oneness with our instrument body and mind, music and the creative process can be experienced viscerally. The freedom to express the music comes so naturally that everyone— you and your listeners feel the flow.

Being in the zone takes practice on many levels. First of course, like an athlete, who must perfect their ‘moves’ and train incessantly, a musician has to put in the time to learn and study the music in order to master the works physically and intellectually, and to convey the interpretation emotionally. This takes careful practice—noticing, listening and correcting with clear goals in mind. In time, with consistent practice we learn something extremely difficult—to be critical while also being nonjudgmental about our playing.

But “knowing” our piece isn’t enough. It is essential to practice mindfulness before we are able to convey the music effectively to others.

What do we mean by mindfulness? We all have experienced being “on auto-pilot,”—our chattering, wandering minds take us out of the moment and the activity that we are doing. Trouble brews when we start to think during the concert about the dinner or beer waiting for us! Suddenly we wake up. Terrified and lost, we have a memory slip or make a gaping error. It takes intentional practice to learn how to concentrate and focus.

It is equally important to learn how to think positively about our performance. The music can flow through us only when we can develop trust in our ability enough to relax and let go. In flow, our emotions are not just channeled. They are so positively energized, and aligned with the task at hand, that there is a feeling of spontaneous joy while performing. Our ego is sublimated. There is nothing but the music. Flow, control and relaxation sublimate anxiety, worry or apathy.

Practicing mindfulness should be part of your everyday practice schedule. Breathing fully is a good start. Sit quietly in your practice space, close your eyes and focus on full and slow breathing. Relax your body from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, searching for any tension in your muscles and bringing in breath to those tight places.

Yellow Emperor

When you become proficient at totally immersing yourself in your breathing and relaxation, try visualizing the music, or the stage of the upcoming venue while mindfully breathing. See yourself in your mind’s eye playing well with ease and expression. Silence that negative chatterbox in your head by focusing on positive thoughts in the present tense, “I sound great; I feel calm, I am playing with ease and expression.” Focus on quieting your mind and being the best you.

Getting immersed in your performance, according to research, entails several things— intensely focused concentration on the present moment, merging action and awareness, losing self-consciousness, gaining a sense of personal control and the sense that time seems to stand still. The experience of the performance itself becomes intrinsically one of meaning and purpose. In other words, you need to know what to do, how to do it, how well you are doing and feel that what you are doing is challenging enough for you. At the same time you need to know that your skills are up to the task.

Chinese character “Music”

Studies of musicians who have attained the flow state show that their heart rate and blood pressure actually decreases and the major facial muscles relax. The study proves that ‘flow’ is a state of effortless attention. Think of charismatic performers like Yo Yo Ma who always seems to exude joy. This is what he says about music:

“Chinese culture has always talked about music in a very special way. It’s reflective of something very powerful and has a spiritual influence on people. For music, sound is energy, and energy is like touch, and we know how powerful touch is in healing. Even when someone can’t speak and you hold their hand, that’s very comforting… The Chinese character “Yao“ (medicine) is made of the character “Yue“ (music). The creation of the character for music is based on a legendary story about Huangdi, the Yellow Emperor, who used music to heal and to call back the souls of dead soldiers in a war. Music, the arts and all creativity have a large role in humanity… I think the whole purpose of any of the arts is to express something that has deep meaning, that’s bigger than yourself.”*

When a musician reaches the zone they can unleash their true potential and be the vehicle to draw the listeners into a shared intimacy. When it works there is no experience that compares.

* (From The Epoch Times an interview by Pamela Tsai.)

Lauren Bernofsky: A Master Composer

 by Fanny Po Sim Head  August 31st, 2023

Dr. Lauren Bernofsky is a professional composer whose favorite genre to write is opera. Her coming opera, The Mensch, tells the story of Anton Schmid who saved many Jewish people from the ghetto during the Second World War. In this interview, Lauren tells us about her operas and her inspiration for writing music.

Dr. Lauren Bernofsky © Sandee Milhouse

Hi Lauren, would you like to introduce yourself to our readers? What is your first instrument?

Hi, everyone! I am a professional composer, and I’ve been at it for about 25 years. My first experience playing music was in an early childhood music class at Yamaha Music School (which was a very basic introduction to music), and when I turned 8, my parents started me on violin lessons. That has been my primary instrument, and I even did a performance degree on violin in college. Being an instrumentalist has had a profound impact on my attitude as a composer.

WILD RIDE ON A BROOMSTICK by Lauren Bernofsky   

Your composition includes a wide variety of genres and instrumentations. Do you have one or two genres or instrumentations that you enjoy writing the most?

That’s an easy one – I love writing for voice, and I love stories, so my favorite genre to write in is opera (which is what I’m doing right now – I am composing a full-length opera called THE MENSCH.)   

What and where do you find inspiration for writing music?

It depends on the kind of piece – if I’m writing a solo piece commissioned by a performer, I derive inspiration from their requests for what kind of a piece and also their personality. The opera I’m writing is inspired by a story from history; I am writing the libretto (the story and lyrics), and the emotion I am trying to convey in an aria will determine the mood of the music I write. And lyrics have, of course, distinct rhythms implied by the words, so this inspires the actual rhythmical aspect of the music.

Lauren Bernofsky: The Secret Philosopher   

I am interested in knowing more about two of your operas, Boom and Mooch the Magnificent. Both of them seem to target younger audiences. Can you please tell us a little bit about both works?

I really enjoy writing for audiences of all ages. In the case of BOOM, the commission was for a piece singable by untrained children’s voices, children who didn’t read music (and would therefore learn the music by rote.) I used catchy, easy-to-memorize, repetitive tunes for the kids to sing, and I used the instrumental parts to add more complexity to the piece. I made easy-to-follow musical cues so the kids would know when to enter (since it was a staged musical with no conductor.) MOOCH THE MAGNIFICENT was actually written for adult voices. It, too, is intended for young audiences, but I add enough sophisticated elements that make the show appealing to adults as well. MOOCH THE MAGNIFICENT was recently translated into Spanish for performances in Ecuador! It was a real hoot hearing it in a different language and hearing the reactions of the kids — the Ecuadorean kids were extremely vocal, calling out a collective “ahhh” when the lighting changed on stage, or loudly laughing at some of the antics of the characters – it was a thoroughly delightful experience to sit in the audience for those performances!  

What were the inspirations that you wanted to write works performed by children? How was your experience working with them on preparing for the performance?

Especially after I became a parent myself, I developed a concern for good music that makes a child WANT to play. One of my own kids was a bit stubborn about practicing, so I tried to find music that would make him excited about playing. A few of my pieces that I wrote for him or his cello class I later made into string orchestra pieces, for instance, my Double Trouble.

As I started getting a reputation for writing this sort of music, I got more and more commissions and requests from my publishers. Because I’d taught violin lessons, I had a pretty good understanding of the various levels of technical development of young string players, so I was well-positioned to write pieces that would work well for players at various technical levels (and getting your pieces published is ALL about staying consistent to a certain difficulty level of that piece. And writing a piece that’s musically satisfying, too, of course.) I get a special kind of joy from working with students – I find that they are often exuberant, and I really appreciate that they are honest! I can tell if they’re bored with a piece or excited about it. And I often learn from THEM! Sometimes they will show me techniques I can use in a piece, or the suggestion of a title. And their feedback directly relates to how I write. Once a high school bass player came up to me after a rehearsal and thanked me for the interesting bass part. From then on I kept in mind that my string orchestra pieces should always have fun and rewarding bass parts!  

Are there any performances of your works that are coming up?

I have around 300 performances a year of my works (performances I know about, anyway!) The one I’m most excited about is coming up on September 6, 2023 – a performance of Act 1 of THE MENSCH (the opera I mentioned earlier.) I’m bringing in Joshua Horsch, a conductor from Maryland, and Angelo Pollak, a tenor from Vienna, and ten other wonderful singers. I haven’t heard the music sung by actual performers yet, and there’s nothing like the excitement of a first run-through!

Besides composing and music making, can you tell us three things that you love in life?

Just three, eh? Okay: my family, my cats and dog (I’ll count them together), and chocolate.

I wish Lauren all the success in the premiere of The Mensch. If you want to learn more about Lauren and the performance of her works, please visit her website.

The Dangers of being a Musical Prodigy Vanessa Mae: Slapped around by Tiger Mum

 by Georg Predota  October 8th, 2017

Vanessa Mae

The “Tiger mom phenomenon,” a term coined by Yale law professor Amy Chua in 2011, describes an age-old system of strict authoritarian motherly control that is supposed to propel children towards excellence. Advocates suggest that it produces an exceptionally high proportion of top performers in a variety of academic and musical areas. Skeptics blame the system for inflicting a host of chronic mental health and psychiatric problems, including a high suicide rate amongst Asian children aged 5 to 12! As you might well imagine, the musical universe is full of ambitious parents who will do whatever it takes to see their sons or daughters succeed. But you don’t have to take my word, just ask Singaporean-born British violinist and alpine skier Vanessa-Mae, who openly confessed that her mother Pamela Tan-Nicholson frequently used serious physical violence and humiliation to improve her violin playing. “She regularly hits me violently across the face and body for less than perfect performances. Everything was geared towards focusing me on my violin career,” Mae has said. “If I didn’t play a piece perfectly, my mother–and often my music teacher also—would resort to slapping me.”  

Vanessa also revealed that she was tightly controlled, and not permitted to leave her house unchaperoned until the age of 20. “I had faced thousands of people on stage and millions on TV, but I didn’t know how to cross the road,” said Vanessa. Physical force was looked upon as a reflection of parental devotion, and little Vanessa spent a good amount of time kneeling on the floor and asking for forgiveness, while her mom kept pulling her ears. Unashamedly, one could say almost proudly, Pamela Tan-Nicholson told a newspaper reporter, “I hit her often to instill discipline and restricted her life outside of music. Maybe some would say she would have done better with an even stricter mum who didn’t give her so much freedom. Perhaps others would consider Mae lucky she had a Tiger Mum, everything is relative.” Vanessa does credit her strict upbringing with her ability to freely speak her mind. However, mother and daughter have not spoken in person since Vanessa sacked her as her manager, a day before her 21st birthday, in 1999!