P R I N C I P A L C E L L I S T S

When considering an article about the role of principal cellist, I knew the person I first needed to consult. Stephen Orton led the Academy of St Martin in the Fields (ASMF) for 35 years, and he and his co-principal John Heley formed one of the most celebrated partnerships in chamber orchestral history. Stephen encouraged me to interview players from a full range of orchestral backgrounds, from small chamber to full symphony, as well as opera orchestras.

Timothy Walden has led the cello sections of seven major orchestras since he was appointed Principal of the Scottish National Orchestra while he was still a student. ‘When you’re at the front, you can lead and show what you’re trying to do, but when you’ve got 10 or 12 strong players behind you, you have to jump on the wave and go with them. I’m dead against people saying, ‘It’s got to be like this or that’. It’s music: it’s a living thing and can’t always go the way you want it to. That’s what’s so amazing about live performance – it’s instantaneous and you don’t know exactly what’s going to happen on any night.’

Ilya Finkelshteyn, principal cellist of the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra for the past 16 years says it’s hard to explain his role to a layperson. ‘As a principal cellist I just get a little bit more responsibility in leading this section towards a musical path. I try to show what to do, but also what not to do, so if there’s an impending entrance and I feel someone in the section is impatient, I make sure they see me NOT coming in early!’

Pei-Jee Ng has recently taken on the Principal Cello seat in the Royal Scottish National Orchestra, after playing as Co-Principal in the London Philharmonic Orchestra. ‘There are many simultaneous challenges when leading a section. Firstly, you’re interpreting the conductor and the piece itself. Then you’ve got to lead by example to your section, and at the same time be ready for another section to do something that you may not have expected – and respond in the moment.’

Jon Lewis is currently Principal Cellist in the Charlotte Symphony Orchestra USA, after being Assistant Principal (Co-Principal) for nine years. ‘It’s an interesting experience, moving from second to principal chair in the same orchestra. A retired colleague came to a concert and said how different the section sounded after I took over. I guess it’s a matter of a different leadership style and vision – if you bring your ideas and your section is open to them, it’s going to make quite a difference to the section’s sound and character.’

One of the biggest challenges facing principal cellists is how to lead, while respecting the phenomenal professional skill and musicianship of their section members. Nicholas Trygstad led the Hallé cello section for 19 years. To keep the section inspired, he tried to arrange regular cello ensemble concerts. ‘We found it really useful to hear each other all playing solo parts, such as in the Villa Lobos, which we played in every concert for over 17 years. It’s a great way to ensure that we all take the initiative, musically, when we play together, as it’s very easy to lose that when you’re in a section.’ Walden agrees. ‘It’s difficult in a busy schedule but it’s been an incredible bonus when we’ve managed chamber music recitals as a section. I like to move people around too, so it’s not always me in the principal seat. It can work well, to say Here, it’s your turn to lead, go for it! It’s so much fun and it’s nice for me to sit back and let someone else take over. I’d advise a new principal never to push themself onto people, just lead by example. When I arrive in a new post, I like seeing where I fit within the personalities of the section and the orchestra, and hopefully people will hear what I’m trying to do.’

Finkelshteyn has a similar outlook: ‘I’ve learned that what I do is more important than what I say. It creates a culture of respect: when people like what they hear, they’ll want to play really well. If your playing doesn’t sound too great then, no matter what you say, people just aren’t going to come with you. After all, what are we all there for? If we’re not there to be inspired, we’re not there to make music.’

When Ng joined the London Philharmonic Orchestra (LPO) in 2014, he was offered similar advice by a senior member of the orchestra. ‘He taught me that how I physically embody a phrase is so much more important than anything I can say. Dogma does not work in an environment where you’ve got 100 talented, creative minds working together.’

David Cohen, Principal Cellist of the London Symphony Orchestra, won his first principal position while still a Guildhall student, leading the London Philharmonic Orchestra cello section. ‘I don’t just see myself as a leader of a section, I’m also a follower. I‘m part of the team, and that’s very, very important, because you cannot be a good leader if you’re not also a good follower. There are times where I feel I need to lead clearly, and there are times where I must realise that I don’t need to lead, and just to let things happen. It’s very important to have that balance, because if you try to lead all the time, then there’s a control issue and a trust issue. If people feel they’re not trusted, they will lose confidence and back down, whereas your job is to bring confidence to the section, not to undermine it.’

Learning is a lifelong process, even when you reach the top in a principal’s chair. Finkelshteyn is grateful for all the support he’s been given over the years. ‘When I was appointed to the principal chair in Baltimore, the concert master of St Louis Symphony said to me, “You know, it’s going to take you seven years to start feeling comfortable.” Because seven years is a cycle where you play the most normal repertoire, at least once. And my goodness, I think it took me longer! I’ve been a principal player for 22 years with three cycles of standard repertoire by now, but I’m still learning and understanding.’

Some section leaders make it their business to study the score in depth. Luise Buchberger, who has led the cello section in the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment (OAE) since 2013, …discovered this early in her career. ‘I joined Spira Mirabilis, a group based in Italy who work without a conductor. We spent our time studying one piece in depth with loads of rehearsals and everyone had the same right to contribute. I think that’s where I learned most about being a principal cellist, because for me it’s about knowing the score, digging into the music and knowing your role at every point. Our job is to shape the bass line, to lay the foundations and to understand the context – places of tension and release, the moments where we give rhythmical impulse, others where we follow. None of that works without knowing where you are in the whole arc of the piece.’

How does a principal cellist communicate with their section? Buchberger finds there’s rarely time to talk to the section during rehearsals, even though the OAE have a relatively generous allocation of rehearsal time. ‘My biggest tool is body language, so I need to play in a way that makes it obvious for every member in the section how I’m shaping things so that they have a chance to fit with the musical idea I’m proposing.’ Trygstad focusses on physically embodying the sound he wants to achieve, so that the section can see what he intends. ‘They’ll see the quality of your preparation; sound is entirely created before it begins.’

Regarding body language, Finkelshteyn reflects: ‘Orchestras all have their own physical traits: the Berlin Philharmonic is extremely expressive with body movement, whereas in American orchestras we don’t move as much. Of course, a section needs to know what’s going on, and the section leader has to show it clearly enough, but I’m concerned how much body language affects the way I sound. In other words, when you start moving too much, then the instrument moves too much, and the bow doesn’t have such good contact. So I have to make sure that I don’t lose the quality of playing while I’m being demonstrative. Over time, I’ve learned to move a little bit more when I need to, but it has to be natural, has to be musical, and then I think it’s easy to follow.’

If Cohen wants more involvement from the section, he indicates with his back, shoulder or head. ‘It’s not something I do consciously. It just happens spontaneously. Whenever I lead the more tricky, technical passages, I try to minimize my movements so that they’re very clear and concise. When something is natural, then everybody absorbs it without question. When something is forced, manufactured, or not natural, it can take ages, and it can sometimes never, ever work.’

Trygstad reaches for imagery when talking to his section. ‘I’ve always talked to the section in a way that let them bring their own creativity to the moment. So I talk in images all the time such as: Can we make this more silky? Can we make that more like water? Can that be thicker? Then everyone takes that image and creates their own sound.’

Mikhail Nemtsov has been Principal Cellist of Oper Frankfurt since 2019, after leading the cello section at the Mozarteum Orchestra in Frankfurt. He trusts his section to solve most problems. ‘If something keeps going wrong, then I turn around and respectfully say to the whole section, I think in this place we maybe started too fast, or should listen more for the violins, or singer, or watch out for the conductor – this kind of thing. I always keep in mind that they’re all brilliant, professional musicians, who have evolved personalities and a varied understanding of music. So, most of the time, I think the principal shouldn’t try to spell everything out – this can be distracting and unnecessary.’

Buchberger agrees. ‘It’s about trusting that we’re all aiming for the same thing. If one of my colleagues says, Look here, I think we should do something else in this passage, then of course there’s a discussion.’ Ng sees himself seeking solutions to problems and offering them to his section. ‘Everything’s happening in microseconds, and there’s not much time to talk because time is tight. And so if there’s a disjoint, and you think you have the answer, how would you go about offering it? Perhaps the answer is: gently and positively. Be gentle in offering a possible solution. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. You need to have the flexibility and support of the section to try different things out.’

Lewis doesn’t want to burn his social capital by constantly making suggestions to his colleagues. ‘It’s good to keep your powder dry and then, once or twice a season, you might say “Hey guys, let’s just talk about this one. What do I need to do differently? Here’s what I’m considering changing – what do you think?” Rehearsal time is very limited, so it might merit a conversation during the break or after rehearsal, so we don’t interrupt the rehearsal for the whole orchestra.’

How do principals cope under pressure? ‘When you’re dealing with conductors and life situations and pressure moments, you learn how to perform under different kind of conditions, like nerves or jet lag,’ Finkelshteyn reflects. ‘Every day is different, and every solo is different, so being flexible is very important. You have to be secure in what you’re doing in order to be flexible. I think it took me years.’ Nemtsov agrees that flexibility is a core requirement for an orchestra principal. ‘Different sections of the orchestra take the lead, depending on the score. It’s that flexibility which adds to the general quality of an orchestra, when everyone listens to each other very carefully, letting each other lead in certain moments. Flexibility gets the best results.’

‘You have to let go, but also be ready to offer your own opinion, musically,’ Ng reflects. ‘You can, with integrity, do your best for your line, but it might not work within the given context, and your concentration and awareness levels must be able to go beyond your own part the entire time.’ Lewis has also learned to let go: ‘I may have an idea of what I think a phrase should sound like, but it may not be how, organically, the section and the orchestra are playing, and it may be entirely appropriate for me as a section leader to simply go along with what is happening at the moment, because it’s just as good and viable, and simply requires flexibility to adapt to it.’

Robin and I sometimes meet cellists who ask for help adjusting their instruments to make it easier for them to blend with their section. It was fascinating asking principals about the way they evolve their section sound. Walden describes it as a team effort. ‘You’re not asking people to turn into clones of each other and create a particular sound. No, you say, we’re all musicians, we’re all doing our thing.’

Finkelshteyn remembers his first rehearsal in the St Louis Symphony Orchestra section where he spent five years as a rank-and-file player. The principal cellist asked him to play like a tiger. ‘From there on, that’s how I’ve played, whether in the section or as a principal. There are some orchestral sections where players have to follow and fit in. I think that creates a culture of passivity. I love it when people are active, participating and creating a beautiful sound which will blend. Even pianissimo can be played with a lot of energy.’

Kristina Blaumane led the cello section in the Amsterdam Sinfonietta before becoming principal of the LPO cello section 17 years ago. ‘Compared to a chamber orchestra, I find it’s easier to blend between 10 cellos, because a lot of these very, specific, nuanced details diminish in a bigger section. But in a very small section, you can almost hear all four individual cellists. I had to adapt and change to the symphony orchestra context, as if I were driving a really big car after a small one. You must always be aware of the space and the weight around you, and you can’t change direction suddenly. I also had to learn how to blend my own sound, in a bigger section, as if using deeper breaths, with an enlarged sense of the shape of the line.’ In his chamber orchestra, Orton’s role felt almost like an extended quartet. ‘Without a conductor, the performance developed depending on the players you had.’

Orchestras such as the OAE who don’t perform together full time, need to rediscover their musical relationships when they regroup after a break. ‘Everyone does other things in between our projects,’ Buchberger explains, ‘and so to come together and find a blended sound is not easy. There’s normally quite a steep curve from the first rehearsal to the day of the concert. It’s also a group of really strong thinkers. And of course, there are so many ways of approaching a score, that it takes time find a common vision. But I love that we have strong section players who don’t just follow, but also contribute personally to the performance.’

Trygstad describes years suffering with ‘imposter syndrome’ after being appointed principal of the Hallé on graduating from the RNCM, but in time realised that his pathological dislike of conflict and non-assertive manner had borne fruit in the quality of his relationships with his section. ‘When you have a long-standing relationship with a section, and a section is as gorgeous and willing as the Hallé section is, you feel supported in your musical values, in terms of the kind of sound you’re looking for, the flexibility in the sound, the quality of listening and responding to the rest of the section. We always focussed on sound quality, not intonation. If you criticise intonation, that just makes everyone tighten up. You want them to relax. If you listen to the quality of your sound, it’s suddenly way more in tune and you haven’t even tried.’

Lewis has been appointed to principal roles, he thinks, because of the quality of the sound he produces, but he has discovered that it’s not necessary for him to be able to hear himself in the section. ‘It’s a beautiful thing about the art we practice – to be able to hear seven or eight cellos together but not hear a single individual. Particularly in an excerpt, which you’ve prepared carefully for years. When it happens, it feels surreal – you feel as if you’re going through the motions, but you don’t hear yourself, just a larger sound almost as if you were miming.’

The rewards of playing in a beautifully functioning orchestra are transcendent for Finkelshteyn too: ‘The goal is to create a culture where everyone is listening and aware, and has a common idea of the phrasing, which takes everyone to the same place musically. When people are creating this wonderful energy of musical sharing, the orchestra is like an organism, filled with nervous energy, everyone responding to each other.’ Trygstad agrees: ‘When everyone is giving and taking, responding and initiating in an orchestra, you feel part of this thing that’s so much greater than you can comprehend, like swimming in a lake at night.’

Walden was just 21 years old when he was appointed principal cellist with Scottish National Orchestra. ‘I learned everything the hard way. I had no idea about the personnel side of running a section. I thought everyone would be like me: single, young, with lots of time on their hands to think about playing the cello. I soon learned that life throws incredible hurdles at everyone. It was a big learning curve. I like to make myself available to anyone in the section if they’ve got problems outside work. You can normally tell when something’s not right, and it can affect how the person works and how they contribute. If I sense something’s wrong, I’ll say, I’m here if you want to talk, and nine times out of 10 they’ll come and tell me what issue they’re facing. It’s a skill that took me years to learn and I’m still learning, hopefully!’

Blaumane has led the LPO cello section for 17 years. ‘The LPO is a very friendly and warm environment. Of course, in your own section, you’re so close to each other all the time, and you see each other on tour, when everyone has their good and bad moments because of the schedules and sleepless nights, or people go through difficult times in their lives, and we are there for each other. You become like a family, for sure. But it’s not as if I’m a mother hen – it’s a two-way street. There are times when I also need the help, and I also need looking after. I guess that’s symbolic, isn’t it, because that’s the way it works in music making – give and take.’ Trygstad describes the support of his section when life gets tough. ‘There have been times when it felt like I could barely play, when the section was playing wonderfully and I felt I simply sat on top of their sound. I was moved to tears by the experience.’

Perhaps the greatest source of support for the principal is their number two, the co-principal or assistant principal. All ten contributors to this article said that the hardest role in the section is that of the co-principal. Nemtsov summarises: ‘It takes more energy to be a co-principal than a principal, because you have to be sensitive to the principal’s wishes and then you have to translate that into your own playing, and then also to the section.’ Lewis sat in the second chair of the Charlotte Symphony Orchestra for nine years. ‘It’s undoubtedly the hardest chair to sit in, because you have to be incredibly solid, respectful and supportive, and yet to have the ability to move over to the principal chair on a dime and be a leader, and back again.’ Ng supported Blaumane for nine years as her desk partner. ‘Number two has the task of following the principal,’ Blaumane explains, ‘but also of listening to their section as well, so they can be an internal ear to help the leader to be more aware of what’s happening beyond their field of immediate focus. The clearer the front desk is to the second desk, the clearer they’ll be to the next desk so that it will trickle back.’ Cohen agrees: ‘The job of number two is probably the hardest job within any section, as their role is to make sure that every piece of information is relayed to the section, whether it’s bowing or dynamics, particularly if the conductor has suddenly asked for something new, so that nobody misses out on any crucial piece of information.’

Orton and his long-term ASMF desk partner Heley were both students of William Pleeth. They evolved such tonal synthesis that they once confused a sound engineer when they played for a sound test and the engineer thought only one cellist was playing. When I interviewed Orton and Heley for a Strad Magazine article many years ago, Stephen gave me this wonderful anecdote which I’ve never forgotten: ‘Although John and I are such different types, we do think the same musically. We’re told that we even move and breathe in a similar way when we play. We have such an instinct and feeling of trust between us that if one of us doesn’t come in at an entry, we automatically assume the other one must be right – so very occasionally we both miss the entry!’

When there’s a vacancy to fill, principal cellists play a major role in selecting new members for the section, a task which can be daunting for a principal who has spent years evolving their section. ‘Forming a section’s sound and style does not happen overnight,’ Blaumane explains. ‘It’s the meticulous work of years, and when you finally have a full section, it’s such a nice feeling.’ The LPO currently has four vacancies, so Blaumane has spent many hours listening to audio recordings and live auditions. ‘The first round is audio, and we listen to a very short excerpt of about five minutes from each candidate. When you have 140 recordings to listen to, trying to fit them in around rehearsals and after concerts, it’s very demanding. From those audio files our panel chooses the people to invite to live audition, and we actually see who the people are. We’re at the stage of trialling now for all four seats.’

Cohen and Walden agree that you need a variety of personalities in any section. ‘If we had eight Rostropoviches,’ Cohen says, ‘it would be amazing in a way, but ultimately an absolute nightmare.’ Walden is always looking for good players, but personality is equally important: ‘You have extroverts, very quiet individuals, and those in between. You don’t want too many of any type – there must be a mix. That’s a very important part of building a section.’

How do principal cellists relate to their conductor? Nemtsov finds that some conductors don’t communicate their ideas clearly. ‘Then we have to, as principals, translate unclear moments in our own words or in our playing.’ Trygstad tries to avoid any negative framing of an instruction. ‘We once had a conductor turn to the second violins and say, “Don’t ruin it” as he gave them the up beat. I almost stopped him then and there and said, “You cannot be serious”. There have been a few moments where I couldn’t stop myself saying something such as, “I don’t think this is creating the result you intended” to the conductor. Fortunately, it’s always been well received because it’s very heartfelt and not an attack.’

Buchberger finds that some conductors are very prescriptive, and others leave a lot of room for input from the players. ‘It’s a constant judging of how much you need (and are allowed) to give yourself and how much you need to follow. And I love that role, this incredibly sensitive kind of game. It’s a beautiful thing, because it happens in the moment. And if it works well, if the chemistry is right, there can be a real back and forth if the conductor is open to take in impulse. I feel so privileged to sit in that seat.’

Blaumane finds it hard when conductors micromanage. ‘It’s nice when a conductor has trust in the players. Of course, conductors need to have very strong views about what they want, as they shape and build the architecture of the piece. But I really feel uncomfortable when a conductor starts micromanaging players. It’s not only rather patronizing and condescending, but it can also paralyse or inhibit players, preventing them from doing their job effectively, which is to fulfil the musical vision of the conductor. A better approach would be to give us the idea of what they want to achieve musically, and to leave the technical aspects of it to us.’ Orton had a humorous relationship with his conductor Sir Neville Mariner. ‘He would sometimes tease us in the ASMF and say, “Er, cellos, you sound rather middle aged,” which was a bit tough as some of us really were middle aged by that stage!’

Stephen Orton

Timothy Walden

Ilya Finkelshteyn

Pei-Jee Ng

Jon Lewis

Nicholas Trygstad

David Cohen

Luise Buchberger

Mikhail Nemtsov

Kristina Blaumane

I asked all contributors to describe the feeling of playing orchestral solos.

Nicholas Trygstad ‘It’s as if an incredible number of volts of electricity flow through you. You might be quite nervous before, thinking I’ve got to project but if it’s a well-constructed solo, it’s orchestrated in such a way that there’s almost no difficulty in projecting, so the first moment of hearing your solo sound is often the biggest shock for me. For example, that Holst Venus solo, it’s like the parting of the waves in the Red Sea. As if you’re suddenly standing there, almost completely naked, because you’ve been gearing yourself up for this battle with nerves, battle with the orchestra, battle to project, battle with the conductor, and then suddenly you’re floating in the air, having to play this beautiful, serene solo.

Everyone says it takes at least 12 years to learn how to cope. In the early years, I was so focused on playing correctly and beautifully that I wasn’t paying enough attention to context, but I learned that it was so much easier if I could get out of myself and listen to everyone else and allow my natural response to function. But boy, it was hard to do at the beginning. The other thing I’ve realised is: the world does not revolve around you because you’ve got a solo. Yes, you’re having an intense experience, but it’s not all about you!’

Pei-Jee Ng ‘Often a composer will write a solo cello line for the principal player just after some hugely climactic moment in the orchestra. The brass is blaring. It’s intense. Your heart is racing because musically, it’s exciting, and then the intensity might fizzle out very quickly, and you then have to pivot into a completely different, lyrical character. That can be one of the most challenging moments, because your heart hasn’t had time to calm itself, to find that new world of sound. I find that a challenge, especially if it’s also a technically difficult passage, and of course you’ve got your own nerves to deal with.’

Timothy Walden. ‘I always try to encourage my students to study orchestral excerpts well, because they’ll definitely need to play them well at audition. As far as I’m concerned, orchestral solos are brilliant. I’ve always loved them and still do – and they keep me focussed, trying to think each time of a fresh, different way of approaching these phrases.’

Ilya Finkelshteyn: ‘Yesterday, I performed Ginastera’s Concert Variations For Orchestra with the Festival Orchestra of Lincoln Center, a New York chamber orchestra whose cello section I’ve led for 21 years. The whole first variation is a harp and cello solo and it’s nerve-racking, to tell you the truth. But in fact, the longer the solo, the easier it is, because you can really get into it. Much more often, we have little incidental solos, one note, three notes, four notes. I think, if I’m playing in a section mode and then suddenly in a solo mode, I think it’s the biggest mistake I can make, because it’s very hard to jump in and then go back. So, I try to play everything as if I’m playing a concert by myself. Obviously, I’m not trying to be a soloist, but I make sure I give the same amount of attention and energy to every note as I would to a solo, because I feel like it’s going to be a horrible mistake to have that peak, and then to have an anticlimax, because then the attention would drop away.’

David Cohen: ‘Symphonic repertoire is blessed with lots of fantastic cello solos, and some of them are quite tricky technically, for instance in the Shostakovich 15th Symphony, which has a series of massive shifts. Basically, the strings are tacet for about 10 minutes while the solo cello plays with the brass section. This is one of the rare moments when I don’t even look at the conductor, I’m just playing with the brass section. They play and I answer. It’s one of those solos where you have to be totally without any fear.’

Luise Buchberger: ‘You might have played for half an hour in the section, and suddenly you’re on your own with a solo. It’s a huge privilege, but, boy, it’s challenging, especially in big concert halls or when recording. To produce a sound that is soloistic in that moment coming out of an orchestral role is extremely difficult, and it makes me nervous a lot of the time. It’s more challenging than playing a sonata or a concerto, but then at the same time, if it goes well, it’s wonderful because you feel carried by that carpet of an incredible orchestra and supportive colleagues around you. What helps is being extremely well prepared, both with your part and knowing the score, so you know the context of your solo. It’s not enough to just look at your line and think, OK, there’s difficult stuff I need to learn how to play. I’d advise being so well prepared with your own stuff that you don’t lose sight of what’s happening around you – so it really pays to learn the score! Playing to other people when preparing can help you remember how it feels to perform when you’re nervous.’

Stephen Orton: ‘Several years ago I saw on the ASMF schedule that we were playing the overture ‘Morning Noon and Night in Vienna’ which has a very long cello solo near the beginning. To add to the challenge, the performance was due to take place in the Vienna Musikverein, where the stage is quite small and raked and the audience sits so close they could touch my feet! So, I started looking at this solo at least two months before, listening to recordings of other cellists in many orchestras. It was really fascinating to hear how different it could sound with different tempi and vibrato. I played it nearly every day in all different circumstances -for example first thing in the morning before warming up – and of course found my own way of feeling confident. Sir Neville Marriner was very good at leaving me alone, so I felt relatively comfortable when it came to the performance. Phew!’

Kristina Blaumane: ‘As a student, I became very used to performing really big, challenging solo repertoire in front of an audience. And then when you play as a part of an orchestral section, you need to mellow down your vibrato activity, even your sound focus, otherwise you stick out like a nail. And then in a solo passage, in those few bars, you have to shine like a soloist. It’s a totally different approach with sound, vibrato, bow speed, even intonating differently. It’s actually much easier to come on stage as a soloist, already on your solo mindset. It’s very difficult to change that mindset in one split second when you’re sitting in orchestra, but that’s something you definitely learn with experience.’

Jon Lewis: ‘It took me years to become grounded and realistic enough to ask myself, what’s the worst thing that could happen when I play a solo? It feels so super important to you as a player, because you spend so much time preparing in the practice room, but the reality is that there is never much time in full rehearsal to practice these moments, and the earth is not going to stop turning just because you have a solo. If it goes well, that’s great, but if it’s not exactly how you intended it to go this time, it will come up again! One of the most fulfilling moments for me is when the whole section has a solo moment. It’s exhilarating and humbling, to hear what you’re achieving as a section with the space of the hall around you, a completely different experience from the pace and sound you achieve alone in a small practice room.’

Mikhail Nemtsov: ‘I remember my first experience playing an opera solo. Although I played it all fine, somehow, I felt incredibly stressed and nervous, because it’s really different to play solo in an opera orchestra compared to a symphony orchestra. I would describe it as an out of body experience. It felt almost as if I was looking at myself from outside. The solo went fine – and it was an amazing feeling. You can obviously practice that solo alone, but the feeling of playing it in the opera within the orchestra is something you can only develop over a period of years, gaining confidence and becoming being more comfortable with it. You’re switching from an orchestral sound to a solo sound, and you’ve got to find your individual tone, without knowing exactly what it’s going to sound like in the hall in that moment. So you’ve got to trust in your ability. And therefore, to stay in shape, to truly trust your form, it’s vital to stay on top of your craft.’

Warmest thanks to Kristina, Luise, David, Ilya, Jon, Misha, Pei-Jee, Steve, Nick and Tim for making this article possible.