In the News
January 28, 2007
The SundayTimes
with Sue Fox
Alison Balsom
The trumpeter, 28, won the Young British Classical Performer Award at the 2006 Classical Brits. She is one of Radio 3's New Generation Artists and a visiting professor of trumpet at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama. She lives in Winchester and London
Our neighbours are lovely, but I don't like disturbing anyone, so I practise around the corner in St Paul's Church. I'm not religious, but I have an affinity with churches. It's inspiring to practise in a church, with total peace and quiet. I take a cafetiere of Illy coffee. Even if the church is freezing, I warm up quickly. The trumpet is a very physical instrument.
Trumpet-playing isn't about puffing and blowing and having a red face, it's about controlling breathing and stretching facial and lip muscles. There's a fine line between doing too little and too much of either. To build up strength I do stretching exercises, which make sure I use all parts of my lungs and support my abdominal muscles. Musician friends tell me they practise in front of the TV. If I did that, my technique would be gone in a week. I'm incredibly strict with myself. My trumpet is like a ballerina. I want the sound I make to be beautiful, but to do that takes hard work. But at the end of a session I get a real high - the musical equivalent of endorphins.
Trumpets aren't like string instruments - there's no Stradivarius equivalent. They are like plumbing, and modern ones are better than the old stuff. Every few months I clean mine out in the bath. When you see a brass player turn an instrument upside down and shake out liquid, it's not spittle or anything disgusting, it's condensation from when the player's warm breath meets the cold metal.
Practising is lonely. When I've had enough, I go to Sainsbury's in the High Street, catch the tube to the Guildhall, or I meet my best friend, Sophie, for a salad or a sandwich. We've known each other since we played in the National Youth Orchestra. During the day, food is either social or fuel. On a performance day, at the end of the rehearsal, I'll have something to build up my stamina. But before a concert I can't eat anything. Not even a banana, the musician's stand-by. I've become allergic to bananas - probably because I've eaten so many!
I started playing the trumpet when I was seven. I had the chance to have free tuition in my primary school in Royston.
I thought the trumpet was shiny and wonderfully satisfying. So did a lot of my girlfriends. By 12 they'd all given up. But not me. One Sunday night my parents allowed me to stay up late and watch a documentary about the brilliant Swedish trumpeter Håkan Hardenberger. I was hooked. I knew that was what I wanted to do with my life. Later I studied with Håkan. He was tough. If I did something that wasn't good enough, he'd stop me and make me start again. I don't train with anyone now because Håkan was such a good teacher. I know, when I'm playing, if a passage is wrong. I imagine Håkan is there listening, and I just go over it again and again until I get it right.
I'm quite feisty about not wanting to trade on being pretty and young. All I ever wanted to be was a good musician. But clothes are part of being a performer. Despite the long blonde hair - I've been going to a tiny salon in Hampstead called 'enry 'iggins for years - I'm not a girlie girl. I can't wear frilly dresses. I like corset bodices. I usually have to add elastic.
If I have a few days off, I'll stay at my house in Winchester, get up early and do a lot of DIY. I'm a real home bird. My younger brother, Richard, studied tuba at the Guildhall and recently became a fireman. Dad's a builder and Mum finds adoptive families for children. We're all quite fearless - a family of tomboys. I've been sailing since I was seven years old and I have my day-skipper qualification. I'm now training for my yacht-master.
In one way, music is life and death to me - it has to be. But I'm able to put it into perspective. It's not brain surgery. No one will get hurt if I play a wrong note. The hardest thing for me is finding a balance. There's so much I want to do. I've formed a quartet with my boyfriend, a cellist and a pianist/harpsichord player. It's an unusual combination that means I can play baroque and more jazzy things such as Piazzolla.
No one would be a professional female trumpet player for the money. My expenses are huge - there is so much travelling. And it's not glamorous. I don't fly business class. A lot of time is spent hanging around when you're not being paid. And it's risky. You never really know how a performance will go. I'm always on edge. Sometimes I want to be physically sick. But then if I'm not keyed up, I think something's wrong.
After concerts there's a lot of eating out, usually with sponsors. If I'm at home with Richard on a non-performance day, we'll start cooking at 9.30pm. We both love eating and talking over our days. After dinner we watch DVDs. Even after a glass of red wine, if I've got music in my head, it takes me ages to get to sleep. I get up and make lists of all the things I need to do tomorrow."
The SundayTimes
with Sue Fox
Alison Balsom
The trumpeter, 28, won the Young British Classical Performer Award at the 2006 Classical Brits. She is one of Radio 3's New Generation Artists and a visiting professor of trumpet at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama. She lives in Winchester and London
Our neighbours are lovely, but I don't like disturbing anyone, so I practise around the corner in St Paul's Church. I'm not religious, but I have an affinity with churches. It's inspiring to practise in a church, with total peace and quiet. I take a cafetiere of Illy coffee. Even if the church is freezing, I warm up quickly. The trumpet is a very physical instrument.
Trumpet-playing isn't about puffing and blowing and having a red face, it's about controlling breathing and stretching facial and lip muscles. There's a fine line between doing too little and too much of either. To build up strength I do stretching exercises, which make sure I use all parts of my lungs and support my abdominal muscles. Musician friends tell me they practise in front of the TV. If I did that, my technique would be gone in a week. I'm incredibly strict with myself. My trumpet is like a ballerina. I want the sound I make to be beautiful, but to do that takes hard work. But at the end of a session I get a real high - the musical equivalent of endorphins.
Trumpets aren't like string instruments - there's no Stradivarius equivalent. They are like plumbing, and modern ones are better than the old stuff. Every few months I clean mine out in the bath. When you see a brass player turn an instrument upside down and shake out liquid, it's not spittle or anything disgusting, it's condensation from when the player's warm breath meets the cold metal.
Practising is lonely. When I've had enough, I go to Sainsbury's in the High Street, catch the tube to the Guildhall, or I meet my best friend, Sophie, for a salad or a sandwich. We've known each other since we played in the National Youth Orchestra. During the day, food is either social or fuel. On a performance day, at the end of the rehearsal, I'll have something to build up my stamina. But before a concert I can't eat anything. Not even a banana, the musician's stand-by. I've become allergic to bananas - probably because I've eaten so many!
I started playing the trumpet when I was seven. I had the chance to have free tuition in my primary school in Royston.
I thought the trumpet was shiny and wonderfully satisfying. So did a lot of my girlfriends. By 12 they'd all given up. But not me. One Sunday night my parents allowed me to stay up late and watch a documentary about the brilliant Swedish trumpeter Håkan Hardenberger. I was hooked. I knew that was what I wanted to do with my life. Later I studied with Håkan. He was tough. If I did something that wasn't good enough, he'd stop me and make me start again. I don't train with anyone now because Håkan was such a good teacher. I know, when I'm playing, if a passage is wrong. I imagine Håkan is there listening, and I just go over it again and again until I get it right.
I'm quite feisty about not wanting to trade on being pretty and young. All I ever wanted to be was a good musician. But clothes are part of being a performer. Despite the long blonde hair - I've been going to a tiny salon in Hampstead called 'enry 'iggins for years - I'm not a girlie girl. I can't wear frilly dresses. I like corset bodices. I usually have to add elastic.
If I have a few days off, I'll stay at my house in Winchester, get up early and do a lot of DIY. I'm a real home bird. My younger brother, Richard, studied tuba at the Guildhall and recently became a fireman. Dad's a builder and Mum finds adoptive families for children. We're all quite fearless - a family of tomboys. I've been sailing since I was seven years old and I have my day-skipper qualification. I'm now training for my yacht-master.
In one way, music is life and death to me - it has to be. But I'm able to put it into perspective. It's not brain surgery. No one will get hurt if I play a wrong note. The hardest thing for me is finding a balance. There's so much I want to do. I've formed a quartet with my boyfriend, a cellist and a pianist/harpsichord player. It's an unusual combination that means I can play baroque and more jazzy things such as Piazzolla.
No one would be a professional female trumpet player for the money. My expenses are huge - there is so much travelling. And it's not glamorous. I don't fly business class. A lot of time is spent hanging around when you're not being paid. And it's risky. You never really know how a performance will go. I'm always on edge. Sometimes I want to be physically sick. But then if I'm not keyed up, I think something's wrong.
After concerts there's a lot of eating out, usually with sponsors. If I'm at home with Richard on a non-performance day, we'll start cooking at 9.30pm. We both love eating and talking over our days. After dinner we watch DVDs. Even after a glass of red wine, if I've got music in my head, it takes me ages to get to sleep. I get up and make lists of all the things I need to do tomorrow."