In Conversation with Nicola Boud

Guest interview by Elena Wittkuhn — Mirabilis Collective cellist and creative contributor

I meet Nicola, with Mirabilis Collective Artistic Director Stephanie Nicholls, on a blustery Monday at a local coffee joint. Local for me, at least — it’s been years since the globally sought-after clarinettist has lived in Perth, having scored an impressive trail of performing and teaching credits around the world. Nicola’s equally warm and eminent reputation precedes her — I know that she is one of the world’s most in-demand clarinettists to play in the Historically Informed Performance Practice (H.I.P. for short). I also know that she is a Perth native, and is now main subject professor of Historical Clarinet at the prestigious Belgium Conservatory. I had heard some personal accounts of how lovely she is. During our interview, I finally had the chance to witness this for myself, our lively conversation adding some warmth to the gloomy Monday chill. We talked about her musical upbringing and her happy transition from standard to historically informed performance practice, and bonded over a love of Perth, the power of music and mentorship, and the contemporary challenges and joys of playing old music in a modern world. Nicola first encountered the world of Historically Informed Performance through a Musica Viva concert at sixteen, and I can’t help but marvel at how it must feel to be embarking on a national tour with the very same organisation years later. Of course, this is the first thing I ask.

Does it feel a bit like a full-circle moment to be playing H.I.P. on a tour with the same organisation that introduced you to it?

It does, actually! I loved playing modern clarinet already, but hearing people play on historical instruments was totally new to my ears, and instantly just made so much sense. I used to go to quite a few of the Musica Viva concerts when I was younger, and that was a sort of little window into the rest of the [musical] world. Because, you know, working in Australia seems so isolated, but there is so much good stuff that happens here, and I think the isolation serves it well. Because nothing is a given, you have to really create things yourself — it’s a gift actually — along with the big sky! You have the space to create things and come up with ideas — you’re not bound by too many traditions.

It’s interesting you say that actually, because you specialise in historical playing, which I think most people associate with following tradition. Do you think there’s a bit of a paradox in what you do?

I’m not sure. Another interesting thing — perhaps something that can be connected to my love of history — is that my dad’s always been obsessed with antique maps. [We used to have] a copy of an old map of Western Australia from the 1750s that was commissioned by the Court of Versailles. It was from when the French and Dutch were visiting, so this map was in three languages — it was in a bit of English, a bit of French and bit of Dutch. And it’s funny because in the end I grew up in Western Australia, studied in Holland and lived in France, and it was an 18th century map, so my mind was kind of gathering all those elements together. I think it’s a funny coincidence, or perhaps not, that I would end up having a career in this sort of thing — piecing together missing puzzle pieces of what different people have said about a certain thing, in that case of a place, the West Australian coastline – in my case, interpretations of music, signs and sound.

You’re absolutely right — it’s very similar to the way we look at musical scores. Over time, so many eyes, interpretations, and traditions layer themselves onto a single piece of music, just like with your dad’s maps. One score can hold centuries of evolving meaning and influence. It’s such a rich parallel — and it makes us continuously question what’s “true” or “authentic” in a piece. Do you think that’s the central goal of Historically Informed Performance — to recreate, as closely as possible, how a piece would have originally sounded?
I think things have changed a lot over the years. I think H.I.P. has come a long way. Back in the day, in the late ‘60s and ‘70s when the whole [H.I.P.] movement started, even on [the musicians’] music stands they would have their treaties [old instruction manuals of exactly how to interpret certain signs etc.]!  But ultimately, you have to be authentic yourself. You have to feel the music yourself. You can’t just ‘reproduce!’, because that’s boring. If you do it too much by what the sources say, it’s a bit removed, somehow. And even all the players back then had their own personalities as well, so no one sounded like the other. Sure, there are different ‘schools’ of playing — different nationalities of composers imbuing their own style into how exactly things would be played. But I think it’s found a good point now, where we are aware of the different sources of context, both historically and socially.

What are the practical elements of historically informed practise that impact or inform style?

If you respect the instrument, it actually tells you a lot about how it wants to be played and phrased. For example, on historical clarinets we use quite light reeds, as we don’t have to sustain too much. You’ll even observe that different national characters come through the instruments! If you let the instrument tell you [about itself], you can learn a lot.

Do you think there are any risks in learning a historical instrument or how to play in a historically informed style on a modern instrument? Would this confuse the learning process that you have been describing, or is it still a good start?

There can be some disadvantages to fully getting into the style and understanding how the instrument wants to be played in order to play in a certain musical style. Some people can get quite uppity about it – but at the end of the day, I think we have to recognise that music is music! I’m really not too extreme about it. And most people who get into H.I.P. start off on modern instruments anyway — I don’t think I know any historically informed clarinettist colleagues who didn’t start off on modern. And it’s all good practice. Everything you do just teaches you more about the kind of music you want to play, and the kind of player you aspire to be. Any entry into music, whether transitioning into H.I.P or not, is surely a good thing.

Can you tell us a bit about the specific instruments that you play?

Yes, my first historical instrument was a five-key Viennese instrument. I’m lucky enough to have a few originals – some French clarinets from the 1840s. I loved playing [modern], and with historical clarinets I can even still play repertoire from the early 20th century, for example with my late 19th century Buffet clarinet.

What are your thoughts on fusion between H.I.P. and contemporary music? Do you see or foresee a lot of it? Are you hearing more of H.I.P coming into more mainstream classical orchestras?

Yes, and I think it’s a good thing that it’s becoming more mainstream. Although there are some orchestras in Europe now that are reluctant to play Mozart and Beethoven [etc] now because they think “Oh, should we leave that to [H.I.P. orchestras]?” But overall I think there’s just more awareness amongst orchestras as a whole, of H.I.P. practice. Funnily enough, it’s really becoming more current. I’ve seen some non-H.I.P. orchestras who use natural [French] horns, for example, if they are playing certain pieces from a certain century that used those instruments. It really shows the growth of H.I.P. into the wider ‘mainstream’ classical space — if you can call classical ‘mainstream’! * laughs* It’s all very exciting. 

How did you find the transition from modern to historical clarinet?

It took some time. You’re initially thinking “ah, this thing doesn’t work!” *laughs* but after a while, you realise that the things that feel like disadvantages can turn into possibilities. For example, the [historical] instrument that I started on, an 18th century Viennese clarinet with only five keys [compared to the average modern clarinet with seventeen keys] — required me to use cross-fingerings — lots of combinations of fingers — like on a recorder. For some notes you’re just covering half a hole with your finger, and sometimes you think “Is this actually a note?” *laughs* But, the more you discover it, the more you let it tell you how to play it, and you can discover all these new colours. Sometimes I talk to my students about notes in terms of flavours, like, “Oooh, that note has a bit of chilli on it, and, ooh, that note, a bit of pepper!” * laughs* You know, it’s a different palette of colours and spices to work with! You learn to not “tame” them, because every note has its own special colour and character. Then you get into the repertoire and you understand why pieces were written as they were, because you understand how certain notes want to be shaped in certain ways, in certain keys. That certainly still happens on modern instruments too, because the music is written so well, but I guess on historical [instruments] you discover another way of feeling the same thing[s]. Also, when it comes to deciding on how best to play certain notes, that is, which fingerings to use, this differs more between individual historical instruments. The fingering patterns are more uniform across modern clarinets, generally achieving a more uniform sound palette. So when playing historical, you really have to spend the time to get to know the character of each individual instrument.

Stephanie: As a wind player I’m curious, what is the note with the most number of cross-fingerings?

An A flat or G sharp! But still, even if we were to play on a set of identical instruments by the same maker, there would still be differences in suitable fingerings between clarinets.

I’m finding this conversation quite moving, because of the way you talk about the connection with your instruments. You embrace what they’re trying to tell you, you’re not trying to ‘iron’ out any quirks or force your instruments to be or sound like anything they are not. This feels in stark contrast to how we approach manufacturing most other things today, with our obsession with uniformity and superficial perfectionism. Has Historically Informed Performance taught you any deeper life lessons along these lines?

Yes, absolutely. [Playing historical instruments] rejoices in the quirks, we embrace the imperfect, and that becomes the source of inspiration. So you learn to forgive yourself if something goes wrong.

What are some challenges for people getting into Historically Informed Performance at the moment?

On a larger scale, there is a bit less work, and there are lots of students. So as a teacher I feel responsible to be realistic with students about that, and try to offer them as many opportunities as possible. I still believe that at the end of the day, if you play well and know how to get along with people, you will find your place. There are only a handful of H.I.P. orchestras that you can be a regular official member of, so most H.I.P. musicians work on a freelance basis, not necessarily with a fixed job. You can be asked back [to play with a group] regularly and it can be very loyal, but at the end of the day, it’s still mostly project-based and you’re only as good as your last gig. This applies a lot in the general musical scene of course but particularly with H.I.P. because it’s just that much more specialised, and the ensembles are generally much smaller as well because of how historical compositions were scored. There are of course also issues with cultural funding.

Stephanie: There’s so much more to a career in music than mastering your instrument. At Mirabilis Collective, we’re passionate about supporting that broader learning journey through professional development. In your view, what complementary skills do H.I.P. graduates need to develop alongside their musical training?

It’s really good to get some teaching. I think that’s quite universal amongst musicians. Starting independent ensembles is also a great way to get out into the industry. In Europe there are quite a few early music festivals with their own fringe festivals within them, where young ensembles can take part. There are quite a few competitions as well, which can get you a bit of exposure. So there are quite a few avenues if [one] is motivated enough.

How do you find the mental and physical shift required to play between instruments from completely different centuries — oftentimes even within the same concert?

It’s very good for my neuroplasticity! *laughs* When it comes to French versus German clarinets from about 1820, their fingering systems are totally different, for one. They went through so many different innovations, concert halls got bigger, tastes changed, and these things all affected how the instruments shifted. So it’s a lot of muscle memory, but your brain has to be on board as well! * laughs* But the worst thing you can do is panic. You have to be kind to yourself — give yourself a few days to do the mental switch if you can.

And what about the emotional shift when you go from piece to piece?

Being a musician is a bit like being a method actor sometimes — it’s like I’m time-travelling. I imagine the bigger context of music that I’m about to play, entering the world, entering the aesthetic. Then again, the instrument always helps you and shows you how it needs to be played. [Adjusting] can be a challenge, but it’s kind of fun as well — I get to wear all sorts of hats!

What is your favourite historical clarinet that you play?

That’s a really good question! *laughs* It’s funny because depending on the repertoire, whatever [instrument] I’m playing, that’s my favourite instrument. When I’m in a particular [sound]world I think “this is the best instrument ever!” But I guess the instrument that feels the most like home is my 18th-century copy 5-key clarinet. It’s the connecting point between baroque and early modern clarinets, and it was also my first historical instrument that I ever played, so it really feels like my home base. It’s also extra special to me because I made it in collaboration with my good friend and clarinet maker in Paris, Agnes Gueroult.

Why do you think it’s important for people to listen to chamber music today?

It’s an opportunity to listen to art being made in real time. No matter what music it is, it’s a chance to be invited into human connection, which we really need to be reminded of at the moment. The world can feel like a horrible place, and sometimes I wonder – is this a bit indulgent? But then I remember, “actually no, there’s a place for it.” Time stands still, and people can find bits of themselves in the music. Even if you don’t consider yourself a musical person, just watching people connect [through music] is a beautiful thing. In music you have to really listen — you have to be respectful and present to make the music work. It’s a generous profession. It’s about sharing. It’s so important.

Nicola Boud is a Historically Informed Practise clarinettist based in Belgium. Boud plays in Musica Viva’s national tour, “Mozart’s Clarinet”, alongside H.I.P. keyboardist Erin Helyard and cellist Simon Cobcroft from July 15-28.

For full concert details, visit the Musica Viva website.
To book your tickets directly for the Perth concert on Saturday 19 July head to TicketsWA.

If you enjoyed this interview, you can follow Nicola on Instagram @boud.nicola, and don’t forget to subscribe to the Mirabilis Collective mailing list for more insightful conversations with women artists, composers, and collaborators.

In Conversation with Jennifer Marten-Smith

Guest interview by Elena Wittkuhn — Mirabilis Collective cellist and creative contributor

Jennifer Marten-Smith, thank you so much for joining us. Firstly, could you please tell us a bit about your introduction to music?

I was five years old when I started piano lessons. Growing up in a musical family, I think it was inevitable that I would learn an instrument. My father was an opera singer, my maternal grandfather was a renowned tenor in Germany, and my mother studied piano although she did not pursue this as her profession.

As a child I had the fortune to have my mother sit with me for every practice, which kept me company but also kept me focused. I also had the great fortune to have a piano teacher whom I adored. I looked forward to my lessons – every Wednesday afternoon – to show him the progress I had made.

What was a turning point in your early musical journey? Were there any challenges or highlights you’d like to share?

At the age of twelve I was invited to study with Frau Professor Gediga-Glombitza at the Musikhochschule in Cologne, Germany. Because I was born in Bremerhaven (my mother is German, and my father had a career in Germany as an opera singer), there was no language barrier. The professor’s house was closer to where I was living than the Musikhochschule, so she would let me go there to practice while she was at work. I have a wonderful memory of hours at the piano, entertained by red squirrels running up and down the beautiful tall trees outside the window. Shortly before I returned to Tasmania, the Hochschule put on a concert where I performed Beethoven 32 Variations, another highlight of that trip.

Do you think your talent affected your childhood or artistic identity in any way?

I do not think growing up as a ‘talented’ pianist really changed my childhood that much. I still got to ride my bike, play with friends, go horse riding, do gymnastics. My favourite time was spent with my family and my animals. We had holidays at Christmas, and we often stayed at a shack on Bruny Island, where they let us bring our dogs and cats. It was great fun, running on the beaches, climbing rocks, avoiding snakes, and trying not to get hooked on blackberry thorns. They were happy times – but after two weeks I would be itching to go home because I missed my piano.

Could you please break down the differences in the roles that you take on in your career – between soloist, accompanist and repetiteur? Do you have a favourite, and if so, why?
I have worked as a soloist – there’s so much great repertoire to explore – and there is something really fulfilling about performing when every musical decision is your own, where it is just your own skills that need to be honed and where you are solely responsible for the beauty of your sound.

I have also worked as an accompanist/collaborative pianist – which still involves solo skills but also requires knowledge of the other part. Where two people must make the music sing, where two opinions are brought together to sound as one, and where you sometimes must be willing to relinquish control over musical direction.

Some partnerships require work; rehearsals to figure things out, such as: phrasing, dynamics and breathing written into parts. Others coalesce more quickly, and when you play, everything simply falls into place. Both types of partnerships are exciting! When you get on stage to perform together, and you bring the music to life for the audience, it does not matter, at least to those listening, how long it took to put the jigsaw together.

Thirdly, I have worked as a repetiteur – in Australia and in Germany – and this is also a fascinating role. Although as a repetiteur, it can feel a bit more as though one is in the background, as it is rarer to be involved in the actual performance. Nevertheless, it is exciting to be around opera. You get to meet a lot of people, as well as the core group of musicians working at the opera companies – guest singers, conductors, directors, choreographers, and you work on a wide variety of shows. Perhaps because I grew up in an “opera” family I was destined to work in this field for a time at least, 25 years as it turned out. I continued to play solo, and I did many, many concerts collaborating with singers. I also played a lot of chamber music, another love of mine.

All these styles of “being a pianist” are great, but deep-down performing is still what I love the most, so I will put it out there that being a freelancer now, with all the options at hand, is a fun time of life.

What is your approach to practice?

As a child I had a regular practice routine – a certain amount of time spent learning at a particular time of the day. It is a little trickier as an adult, juggling bill paying, work, family, and other commitments, so I have had to come up with ways to learn music thoroughly but quickly. Lots of focused ways to challenge the brain, ears, fingers, and muscle memory. Luckily, through early training, I am a very good sight reader. This talent, plus the ability to hear absolute pitch away from the instrument, saves a lot of learning time.

We’re about to see you and the wonderful violinist Johan Dalene embark on a national tour with Musica Viva. What has the preparation process been like so far?

For this Musica Viva tour, performing with violinist Johan Dalene, I have been afforded the luxury of time. With soloists like Johan, much in demand, timetables are tight, and concerts need to be booked in early. There is a great variety of music on this programme, and it has been a fun journey learning the notes, the style, working on technique, listening to old recordings, coming up with new ideas.

And the best part is still to come – meeting Johan for the first time just a few days before our performance at the Melbourne Recital Centre, with a short intense rehearsal period to bring our ideas to life.

At Mirabilis Collective, we’re always excited to hear female compositions and new works. This program features one of each – “D’un matin de printemps” by Lili Boulanger, in its original composition for violin and piano, and the world premiere of Jack Frere’s “Tilted Scales”. How would you describe the program as a whole?

The programme we are performing has something on it for everybody. From classical through to a brand-new commission. You’ll hear a lot of beauty and a lot of impressive technique from both instruments – a feast for the ears, eyes, and heart.

Jennifer Marten-Smith and Swedish-Norwegian violinist Johan Dalene will perform in Perth on Thursday 19 June at the Regal Theatre , as part of their national tour, “Northern Lights”.

For full concert details, visit the Musica Viva website.
To book your tickets directly, head to Ticketek.

Photo credit – Luke Frost

Uncovering Connie Converse: A Voice the World Almost Missed

In a quiet apartment in 1950s New York, a woman named Connie Converse was writing songs no one was quite ready for—frank, poetic, and deeply personal. Long before the era of confessional singer-songwriters like Joni Mitchell or Bob Dylan, Connie was crafting music that offered a startling window into the soul. But after years of rejection and silence, she packed her belongings into a Volkswagen and disappeared. Her music—like her name—was nearly forgotten.

This May, Finding Connie brings her songs to Australian audiences for the very first time. Presented by Mirabilis Collective, the concert is a tribute to a woman whose work was too early, too honest—and too extraordinary to remain hidden.

Who Was Connie Converse?

Born Elizabeth Eaton Converse in 1924, Connie was a gifted student, a self-taught musician, and a quietly radical thinker. In the early 1950s, she recorded home demos of original songs that blended classical nuance with folk simplicity, philosophical lyricism, and startling emotional honesty. Her music defied the conventions of her time.

Uninterested in pursuing fame and unsupported by the male-dominated industry around her, she eventually stepped away from songwriting altogether. In 1974, shortly after turning 50, Connie wrote a series of farewell letters to her family and friends, drove off, and was never seen again.

Her story was largely unknown until a 2004 WNYC radio broadcast shared some of her music. That moment sparked a wave of discovery, culminating in the publication of To Anyone Who Ever Asks by Howard Fishman—a richly researched and empathetic portrait of Connie’s life, music, and mysterious disappearance.

Connie Converse in Ann Arbor 1959

A Lost Genius Rediscovered

Connie Converse’s music is quiet and unassuming—but under the surface, it's fierce in its clarity and emotional depth. She writes of longing, disconnection, inner complexity, and the ache of being unseen. Her harmonic palette—often borrowing from art song and classical form—sets her apart from her folk contemporaries, while her lyrics cut close to the bone.

Her work resonates deeply with listeners today—particularly with women, queer artists, and others who have felt outside dominant narratives. She composed not for commercial success but as an act of expression, of trying to be understood.

In her absence, she has become something of a mythic figure: a reminder of how easily important voices can be missed—and how vital it is that we keep listening.

Connie Converse composing at the piano in her New York apartment in 1958.

A Collective Tribute: Finding Connie

Finding Connie is the result of a rich collaboration between Mirabilis Collective and the University of Western Australia’s Conservatorium of Music. Third-year composition students were invited to create original chamber arrangements of Converse’s songs, reimagining her music through a fresh contemporary lens. These new works form the centre of the program.

The concert also features a multigenerational ensemble of women musicians, performing alongside exceptional UWA student performers. Together, we’re weaving Connie’s voice into a new musical conversation—one that stretches across time, generations, and experience.

We extend our warm thanks to James Ledger, Head of Composition at UWA, for his generous support and for facilitating this special opportunity for the students.

This performance forms part of our 2025 Unveiled concert series, dedicated to amplifying women’s voices through chamber music, storytelling, and creative collaboration.

Connie Converse performing in New York in 1958.

Why Connie’s Music Matters Today
Connie Converse’s music captures something timeless: the ache of disconnection in a crowded world. Her song One by One becomes a haunting metaphor for modern isolation—“we can hear each other pass / but we’re far apart, in the dark.” Writing in the 1950s, she was already diagnosing a spiritual malaise we’re still grappling with: lives filled with noise, yet void of deep connection.

In an era when community was shifting—urbanisation rising, families dispersing—Converse wrote music that reflected both the alienation of her time and the yearning to break through it. Today, as we scroll through curated lives, swipe through connections, and increasingly live behind screens, her songs still resonate deeply.

Bringing Finding Connie to the stage is about more than reviving her lost music. It’s about giving voice to the unheard, making space for stories that were once dismissed or overlooked. It reminds us that history is full of women like Connie—brilliant, ahead of their time, and worthy of being seen and heard.

Connie Converse in her West 88th Street Apartment 1959

Mirabilis Collective presented Finding Connie on 4 May 2025 in collaboration with UWA Conservatorium of Music student musicians and composers.

The concert received a glowing review in The West Australian, highlighting the emotional depth of the performances and the powerful storytelling at the heart of Finding Connie. Read it here.

Programme Notes and Interviews

For a further deep dive into Connie Converse’s life and music, read the Finding Connie concert programme notes here.

Listen here to Mirabilis Collective cellist Elena Wittkuhn in conversation with Bec Bowman on RTR FM’s Artbeat segment, recorded on Friday 2 May. In this 20-minute interview, Elena discusses Connie Converse’s music, the mystery surrounding her disappearance, and how Mirabilis Collective brought her songs to life in Finding Connie.

Listen here as Mirabilis Collective violinist and composer Julia Nicholls reflects on the haunting beauty of Connie Converse’s songwriting in this interview with Curtin Radio’s Jenny Seaton.

Want to explore more?
Howard Fishman’s acclaimed biography To Anyone Who Ever Asks: The Life, Music, and Mystery of Connie Converse is available here—read by the author and featuring excerpts of Converse’s music.
Shortlisted for the Plutarch Award for Best Biography.

To Anyone Who Ever Asks: The Life, Music, and Mystery of Connie Converse by Howard Fishman.

Women’s Voices Reshape Classical Music: A Closer Look at the 2025 Grammy Awards

The 67th GRAMMY Awards marked a decisive shift in classical music, celebrating artists who are redefining the genre and making space for voices long overlooked. This year’s winners not only demonstrated technical brilliance but also showed how classical music can respond to contemporary social movements while honouring its traditions. Through bold interpretations, rediscovered works, and genre-blurring compositions, these women are reshaping what classical music can be.

Gabriela Ortiz’s Revolución Diamantina: A Soundtrack to Resistance

Mexican composer Gabriela Ortiz emerged as a standout, winning three major awards:

• Best Classical Compendium

• Best Contemporary Classical Composition

• Best Orchestral Performance (awarded to conductor Gustavo Dudamel and the Los Angeles Philharmonic)

Her ballet score, Revolución Diamantina, is a powerful example of how classical music can engage with social movements without sacrificing artistic complexity. The piece mirrors the energy of feminist protests in Mexico City, shifting between structured precision and moments of controlled chaos. Ortiz’s innovative use of choral writing departs from conventional Western classical traditions, evoking raw, primal emotions that capture the urgency of political resistance.

In her acceptance speech, Ortiz dedicated the award "to all the brave women in Mexico and around the world who fight against injustice every day," reinforcing the work’s deep connection to activism.

Mexican composer Gabriela Ortiz accepts her Grammy Award at the 67th Annual Grammy Awards, where her album Revolución Diamantina won multiple awards, including Best Classical Compendium and Best Contemporary Classical Composition.

Karen Slack and Michelle Cann Illuminate Florence Price’s Hidden Legacy

Soprano Karen Slack and pianist Michelle Cann won Best Classical Solo Vocal Album for Beyond the Years — Unpublished Songs of Florence Price, a groundbreaking recording that brings 19 of Price’s previously unpublished works into the spotlight.

Florence Price, a pioneering African-American composer, faced immense racial and gender barriers during her lifetime, and much of her work remained unheard for decades. This album’s recognition is part of a broader effort to correct historical oversights in classical music. Slack and Cann’s passionate performances bring Price’s compositions to life, proving their rightful place in the canon.

Upon receiving the award, Slack reflected on this moment:
"Back then, this award only went to very famous superstar singers on major classical labels. But today, I get the opportunity to be here among the greats that have come before me to represent the inimitable American composer Florence Price, a trailblazing Black woman who wrote extraordinary music at a time when it was believed that only European and male composers belonged in the concert hall."

Cover of Beyond the Years: Unpublished Songs of Florence Price by soprano Karen Slack and pianist Michelle Cann. The Grammy-winning album, released on Azica Records, brings to life 19 previously unpublished songs by the pioneering African-American composer Florence Price.

Caroline Shaw and Sō Percussion Break Boundaries with Rectangles and Circumstance

Composer Caroline Shaw, in collaboration with Sō Percussion, won Best Chamber Music/Small Ensemble Performance for Rectangles and Circumstance. Shaw, a Pulitzer Prize-winning composer, continues to redefine what contemporary classical music can be, fusing rhythmic experimentation with lush harmonic textures.

This album blends classical precision with a freewheeling, improvisatory spirit, proving that contemporary classical music can be both artistically rigorous and deeply accessible. By expanding the expressive possibilities of percussion and embracing genre-fluidity, Shaw and Sō Percussion create a sonic landscape that speaks to both devoted classical listeners and those new to the genre.

Composer Caroline Shaw with members of Sō Percussion, winners of the Grammy Award for Best Chamber Music/Small Ensemble Performance for Rectangles and Circumstance. Their innovative collaboration blends classical precision with contemporary experimental soundscapes, redefining the boundaries of chamber music.

Kaija Saariaho’s Adriana Mater: A Posthumous Tribute to a Visionary

The late Kaija Saariaho was posthumously awarded Best Opera Recording for Adriana Mater, performed by the San Francisco Symphony and Chorus, under conductor Esa-Pekka Salonen. Featuring vocalists Fleur Barron, Axelle Fanyo, Nicholas Phan, and Christopher Purves, this recording captures the depth and complexity of Saariaho’s unique compositional voice.

Composed in 2005, Adriana Mater tells a harrowing story of war and trauma, themes that remain painfully relevant today. Recorded just before Saariaho’s passing, the opera serves as a final testament to her legacy.

Mezzo-soprano Fleur Barron noted the emotional weight of the recording:
"This opera explores issues most of us are processing—war, cycles of violence. Kaija’s music speaks to these struggles in a way that feels both urgent and timeless."

Saariaho’s deeply atmospheric, colour-rich style revolutionised modern opera. This Grammy win cements her status as one of the most influential composers of our time.

Cover of Adriana Mater by Kaija Saariaho, performed by the San Francisco Symphony and Chorus under the baton of Esa-Pekka Salonen. This Grammy-winning opera recording, featuring Fleur Barron, Axelle Fanyo, Nicholas Phan, and Christopher Purves, explores themes of war, trauma, and resilience, cementing Saariaho’s legacy as one of the most visionary composers of our time.

Elaine Martone: Classical Producer of the Year

Among the celebrated women at this year’s GRAMMYs, Elaine Martone was honoured as Producer of the Year, Classical, marking her sixth GRAMMY win. With a career spanning decades, Martone has collaborated with leading ensembles, including the Cleveland Orchestra, and her recent work features four recordings with the orchestra, further solidifying her reputation as a masterful producer.

Reflecting on her career, Martone emphasised the importance of mentorship and leadership in the industry:
"I never felt held back as a woman. I felt very lucky to grow a department and hire the right people," she says. "A key skill for my work as a producer is that I'm nurturing. I like being of service, including mentoring young women. Women represented about half of my staff."

Martone’s dedication to excellence and advocacy for gender balance continues to shape the classical music landscape, highlighting the vital role of producers in bringing complex musical projects to fruition.

Elaine Martone celebrates her Grammy win for Producer of the Year, Classical at the 67th Annual Grammy Awards. A six-time Grammy winner, Martone has been a leading force in classical music production, championing artistic excellence and mentoring the next generation of women in the industry.

This year’s classical GRAMMY wins highlight a significant transformation in the field. These women—composers, performers, and collaborators—are proving that classical music can honour its traditions while embracing new perspectives. Whether through Ortiz’s politically charged orchestral writing, Slack and Cann’s rediscovery of Florence Price, Shaw’s redefinition of chamber music, or Saariaho’s deeply affecting operatic storytelling, these artists are expanding what classical music can be.

Though Beyoncé’s historic Album of the Year win dominated headlines, the impact of these classical awards cannot be overstated. They signal an ongoing shift—one that moves beyond recognition and towards a future where classical music is more inclusive, innovative, and relevant to today’s world.