The South Korean tenor Mario Bahg won the Aria Grand Finale of the Concours musical international de Montréal (CMIM).

An American baritone John Brancy won the art song prize.

From the new Lebrecht Album of the Week:

If I had to choose Elgar or VW for a desert island, I know which it would be. Elgar these days seems over-familiar, where Vaughan Williams loses none of his capacity to surprise.

You would not automatically guess that from …

Read on here.

Dog person?

Or cat

UPDATE: Responses on social media are running 2-1 in VW’s favour. Can Elgar score in extra time?

The nonagenarian conductor, in a snap interview about the secrets of a long life, talks movingly about his late brother.

‘He knew music as well as I did, but he became a doctor. We shared a room for 25 years. He caught all the diseases in the world and died very young. He said to me: you are shamelessly healthy.’

The most important things in life: ‘To be sincere and not to be vain. Vanity stinks.’

The irrepressible violinist has become a singer/actor in Schoenberg’s masterpiece with musicians of the St Paul Chamber Orchestra.

You won’t catch Anne-Sophie doing this. Nor Anna Netrebko playing the Berg concerto.

Stephen Threlfall, director of music at Chetham’s School of Music in Manchester through its most turbulent era, has announced plans to retire in September 2019.

Over 24 years, Threlfall has seen heads of school come and go as Chets weathered a storm of sexual abuse charges.

He will continue working with Chetham’s in a new capacity. Alun Jones, Chetham’s latest principal says, ‘I am delighted that Steve has agreed to remain closely involved with Chetham’s and to support me and the School as we investigate new opportunities for development at home and abroad.’

The board of Welsh National Opera has quietly decided not to renew David Pountney’s contract as artistic director beyond mid-2019.

No reason has been given. Pountney, 70, has been an invigorating force since 2011.

But its chief executive, Leonora Thompson, has warned of falling audiences: ‘He has been remarkably ambitious, and that was what he was brought in to do. Though I do say it myself, we are doing great work. But some of the more ambitious programming hasn’t quite worked for the broader public, though it is absolutely adored by a very loyal core audience.’

 

The Milwaukee Symphony has quietly drummed up $106 million for a new concert hall (below), only to find that the cost estimate has risen to $139 million.

They’ll get there, we feel sure.

 

Much faster than the London Symphony Orchestra, which has talked big about a new hall and not raised a penny.

 

Adrian Varela, a violinist in the Philharmonia Orchestra, is putting on a performance of Mahler’s first symphony with his One Tree Hill Sinfonia in an effort to raise funds for needy victims of the Grenfell Tower fire.

The concert is on June 17. If you can’t go, please give. Here.

So far, they have raised just £20.

Adrian says: ‘One year on from the man-made Grenfell Tower disaster, families of victims are still suffering. With cuts to the legal aid budget and court fee hikes, many of them have been left vulnerable in their search for justice. With this concert we support the efforts of Justice4Grenfell in their fight to help Grenfell Tower victims and their families.’

Our diarist Anthea Kreston is finding pitfalls in her lotus life:

Mid-way through a tour of Asia, sitting in the luxury of my room in the Mandarin Oriental Hotel in Central Hong Kong, I find myself in a tangle of wonder, excitement, and loneliness. You see, my life has turned into one of those books you read about famous string quartets – I am picked up in a Limo at the airport, addressed by name as I enter the lobby of the impossibly decadent hotel (no need to check in – it has already been done), get to my room -which has bouquets of flowers (with dew on the petals), baskets of exotic fruits, and hand-written notes from Warner Asia, am driven to the incredible, huge and acoustically perfect concert halls, where my personal dressing room is outfitted with a wonderful spread (even the hotel concierge knows that I am a vegetarian, as they hand me my custom snack for the next leg of the tour). I see posters of our group, one story tall, on the sides of buildings. Also, like in the books, we stay on different floors, eat at separate tables, and see each other only on stage, where each of us is in top form, and performs at our highest level. The CD signing area has audience members lined up all the way through the lobby – it takes the better part of an hour to sign the CDs and programs, and take photos before we are escorted to the after-dinners. A short sleep is followed by a repeat of the already stated, with an escort to the airport, where we are equally spread across Business Class, and the warmed nuts and champagne are delivered.

I am very aware that any number of people could be doing my my exact job – that I am in no way special or extra-talented or unique. I just happen to be the person doing this job at this moment. That is where the disconnect happens.

I am a funny mix of extremely social, totally independent, and able to entertain myself in a million different ways, endlessly. And so, this kind of thing can actually suit me pretty well. I do look forward to those two windows of time that I can try to catch my family on FaceTime (as they are getting ready for school, or immediately after school). Those are important. But also, I get out and about – last night in Hong Kong was our first day without a concert (we had two in Taipei, two in Tongyeong and one in Seoul so far). I booked a place on a Junk Boat tour of the Hong Kong harbor to see the Symphony of Lights (the biggest light show on the planet, with music and buildings on both sides of the water in a wondrous, synchronized show). These fully-battened seagoing ships were first in use in the 2nd century, and as we landed in Hong Kong, delayed because of a Typhoon, I wondered to myself if this was a good night to be going on a cruise. But, they were sailing, and so was I. The show was incredible, with the foggy night, pierced by laser lights which beamed from one shore to the other. As a woman alone, I attracted more than several middle-aged business men, but luckily I am adept at firmly but funnily steering clear of the offers of drinks.

It was already late as I got off the boat – two burly sailors firmly grabbing each passenger, waiting until the boat swung back close enough to the dock to toss each passenger in turn to the the two sailors on shore. I thought for one moment before deciding to extend my adventure to the famous Temple Street Night Market – and as I wandered my way through the maze of steaming food stalls and people hawking every manner of wares, my shirt became wet with the dense humidity of a sleepless city at midnight.

And so, I have tried each day to take an adventure, to rest and prepare for the evening’s concert, to eat well and sleep enough. And to navigate through this surreal life – one which I feel I have already read about in a book.

It’s asparagus time in Munich and there are long evenings to fill.

The Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra won ovations last night for a new work by Helmut Lachenmann, which must have cost the GDP of a central African nation to rehearse and perform.

Lachenmann, 82 and obscurantist as ever, writes at his own dimensions. The work lasted 45 minutes.

Peter Eotvos conducted. The audience rose cheering to its feet, doubtless with admiration, possibly tinged with relief.