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London’s Wigmore Hall celebrates its 125th birthday on 31st May 2026

Early days

The first concert at the new Bechstein (now Wigmore) Hall took place on 31st May 1901. The performance featured English soprano Mrs Helen Trust, ‘king of the violin’ Eugene Ysaye, and composer-pianist Ferruccio Busoni – an impressive line-up that promised well not only for the opening night but also for the future of London’s newest concert venue. The audience at that first concert comprised wealthy patrons, aristocrats and the intellectual elite of London. It would surely have been a glamorous event. The first public concert took place on 3rd June 1901, and from that date until October 1915, when Bechstein Hall was forced to close, it hosted some two hundred concerts a year.

At the beginning of the twentieth century, Bechstein Hall on London’s Wigmore Street – a prime location in the fashionable Marylebone district – was promoted as the best place for intimate music-making, boasting unrivalled comfort and facilities for patrons and artists, with its elegant green room up a short flight of stairs behind the stage (so that singers did not arrive on stage breathless). At the time of its opening, concert life and leisure in London were undergoing something of a revolution. Theatres and music halls were opening across the West End, a wide public was being introduced to the experience of shopping for pleasure in the new “department stores” (Selfridges is a mere 10-minute walk, at most, from Wigmore Street). With cheap and efficient public transport, it was easy for people to enjoy these delights in the centre of the metropolis.

At the time of the hall’s opening, C. Bechstein was Europe’s leading piano maker (it produced 5000 pianos in 1901), and its instruments were preferred by most pianists outside America, where Steinway predominated. The Bechstein piano company built similar concert halls in Paris and St Petersburg to showcase its instruments and the leading performers and singers of the day. With its distinctive barrel-roof “shoebox” design, beloved of many musicians and audience, Wigmore Hall still boasts a fine acoustic. At the same time, its small size (its capacity is c600 seats) makes it the perfect place to enjoy intimate chamber and piano recitals.

“…wherever you sit, the acoustics are wonderful for the piano”. (Lorraine Banning, pianist and piano teacher)

“…the classic shoebox-shaped hall with the most marvellous acoustics – it sounds very good when you’re rehearsing, and then you come on stage and find that with the audience it’s even better….a jewel” (Madeleine Mitchell, violinist)

War time and changing hands

During the First World War, it became increasingly difficult for Bechstein Hall to trade successfully. Strong anti-German sentiments and the passing of the Trading with the Enemy Amendment Act 1916 led to the hall’s closure in June 1916, and all property, including the concert hall and the showrooms, was seized and summarily closed. The hall was sold at auction to the Debenhams department store, which rechristened it Wigmore Hall, and it opened under its new name on 16th January 1917. Instead of a German C. Bechstein piano, a French Erard graced the stage.

Although a German instrument was forbidden, German music certainly was not, and the programme included works by Schubert and Schumann – composers whose music continues to appear regularly in concert programmes at the hall

Wigmore Hall today

Nestling unobtrusively just a stone’s throw from the bustle of Oxford Street, within a row of tall Edwardian façades, Wigmore Hall enjoys a position of pre-eminence not only in London but across the international classical music scene, and a debut at Wigmore Hall is the long-held dream of many young and up-and-coming performers. While other, newer or more modern concert halls may boast state-of-the-art acoustics, the acoustics of Wigmore Hall remain one of the best and most beloved. No matter that the distant rumble of tube trains can be heard during performances (underground lines run directly beneath the street where the hall is located), one feels cocooned from the outside world in that special red-and-gold space.

“I have never been fortunate enough to perform there, but have wonderful memories of being in the audience. Every note sparkles.” (Lucy Melvin, violinist)

“It’s the only hall I know where the best seats (from the listening point of view) are in the balcony. Judging by the conversations I’ve had up there, quite a lot of people know this.” (Orlando Murrin, author)

The hall and its audience

Alongside its reputation for chamber music of the highest quality, the Wigmore’s audience is famous for its loyalty, intelligence and discernment. It is considered by many musicians to be one of the most demanding audiences of any concert hall, which brings its own unique set of pressures, and many performers will play a programme in regional venues and for local music societies before “doing a Wigmore”.

But the hall holds a special place in the affections of many performers, who regard it as their artistic home in London. There are no rough edges in this beautifully proportioned hall, no jarring modern architectural details to confuse and distract. The tread of the thick crimson carpets is complemented by the red Verona marble frieze, the noise and litter of Oxford Street and the West End forgotten in the spacious vestibule and elegant green room. Playing at the Wigmore or being in the audience, one feels a sense of history and heritage, for the Wigmore inhabits a different era and ethos from other concert venues in London. All the time, one is aware of the great performances that have taken place in the hall, and the walls of the green room are lined with photographs of musicians and composers, honouring the hall’s history and legacy.

“…the place is so full of musical ghosts.” (Caroline Swinburne, author)

As a member of the audience, attending a concert at the Wigmore has its own special rituals from the moment one steps through the glass doors. For many of us who are regulars at the “sacred shoebox” (Vikram Seth, author), it feels like our musical spiritual home. The richly carpeted vestibule is a place where people meet, queue for tickets, and buy programmes, CDs or gifts. Sometimes, if you arrive early, you might hear the soloist warming up or the piano being tuned, which can lend a special frisson to the evening, a glimpse of what is to come.

Downstairs, the bars and restaurant hum with pre-concert chatter, and sometimes, when you visit, you might spot a “musical celebrity” – Steven Isserlis, Alfred Brendel, Julian Lloyd Weber, or Steven Kovacevich.

I like to arrive in good time for drinks and chat with friends before the bell summons us to the hall, when we sink into the plush comfort of the crimson seats. In the auditorium, in the moments before the concert begins, one senses the audience’s collective breath of expectation. 

“The restaurant is great for socialising with fellow concert goers, and of course, as it is so popular with other musicians, you always see someone you know there, but mostly it is the sense of intimacy and history which, combined with wonderful acoustics wherever one sits, makes it unique.” (Lorraine Banning, pianist & piano teacher)

For many of us, Wigmore Hall is special because it holds emotion as much as music. The intimacy, the acoustics, the history, and the feeling that every performance truly matters create something unforgettable for both the audience and the performers.

People, usually those who have never stepped through Wigmore’s discreet entrance, let alone enjoyed a concert there, grumble about the audience’s age or its being overly highbrow, snobbish or elitist. But get talking to the person next to you (spying my reporter’s notebook is usually enough to start a conversation) and you will find that the average Wigmore audience member is none of these things, simply someone who really enjoys and appreciates live classical music.

And the management of Wigmore Hall really do “know” their audience. No trendy marketing to attract the elusive “yoof audience”; instead, stylish, understated brochures announcing the new season and a clear identity across its social media. So confident is Wigmore Hall, and such is the loyalty of its core audience, that it does not need to resort to gimmicks to attract and retain its audience. It knows exactly how to cultivate and nurture, and, importantly, to trust its audience (and indeed many others in the hall’s ecosystem) – something many other venues and concert organisations could learn from. 

People, programmes and new challenges

That said, Wigmore Hall has a broad remit and, in addition to lunchtime, evening and Sunday morning concerts, offers a lively education programme, masterclasses and study days, music for small babies and toddlers, and “Wigmore Lates”, concerts that start at 10pm and feature not only classical music but also jazz, folk and world music. A broad range of performers is presented – from the “big names” of international classical music (Igor Levit, Andras Schiff, Stephen Hough, Angela Hewitt, Sarah Connolly, Christina Gerhaher…) to younger artists at the start of their professional careers, and to musicians from other cultures (the African Concert Series, for example, is a popular regular feature in the hall’s programming). 

In 2025, Director John Gilhooly revealed that he would no longer receive funding from Arts Council England, citing ACE’s “crippling”, “onerous”, and “exhausting” policy demands and red tape. The hall is now self-sufficient, thanks to a major campaign that raised £10 million. Freed from the restraints of ACE, the Wigmore can consistently deliver superb artistic quality and a wide range of programming.

COVID-19 dealt a terrible blow to live performance. I was at Wigmore Hall on the last day of February 2020, for a concert by American pianist Jonathan Biss, scorching his way through Beethoven’s piano sonatas. The house was packed, and many friends and colleagues from the piano world were there. There was little talk of the “novel virus”, and when a friend hugged me in the vestibule, we both laughed and said, “maybe we shouldn’t have done that!” At that time, neither of us knew that within three weeks concert halls, opera houses and theatres around the world would be shuttered and silent.

In summer 2020, 11 weeks after closure, music filled Wigmore Hall again. John Gilhooly, the energetic and inspiring director since 2005, refused to be defeated by the virus and, in the spirit of Dame Myra Hess’s concerts from the National Gallery during the Second World War, on 1st June, Sir Stephen Hough played the first of a series of livestreamed concerts from an empty hall (the hall had had its own broadcasting facilities from 2011). It was poignant and moving for all sorts of reasons, not least because his opening piece was the Bach-Busoni Chaconne, which Busoni himself had played in the hall in November 1902. Inspiring, uplifting and painfully wonderful, there was Stephen Hough on stage, immaculate in his usual concert attire, playing beautifully to an empty hall. The return of live music offered a glimmer of hope. [Read my review here]

The livestreamed series proved hugely popular (Hough’s concert received some 800,000 views) and gave those of us who ached for the return of proper live concerts an opportunity to enjoy music from the beloved “sacred shoebox”. But anxieties were raised about the number of people watching online concerts and livestreams: would those enjoying music from the comfort of their living rooms (and not paying £10 for a glass of wine in the bar) return when the concert halls reopened? In fact, audiences surged back to the Wigmore, with a marked increase in the number of younger people attending concerts.

Today, Wigmore Hall seems more popular than ever, and my only regret is that, now that I no longer live in London, I can’t simply nip on a train and be there in an hour. When I worked in London and reviewed regularly for Bachtrack.com, I was at the hall several times a week, sometimes twice a day! – at lunchtime and in the evening. Now, concert trips have to be planned more carefully, but I still love Wigmore Hall’s unique atmosphere (known affectionately amongst some of us as “the Wiggy”) and enjoy its ambience from afar, through its social media presence and reviews and reports from friends and acquaintances who are regulars at the hall. 

“As a piano music collector, some of my favourite recordings have come from live recitals at the Wigmore…It is a treasured venue, even from this side of the pond.” (T Weir, Illinois)

To coincide with Wigmore Hall’s 125th birthday, Julia Boyd’s new book, There is Sweet Music Here: The World of Wigmore Hall, tells the story of Wigmore Hall, one of the world’s most beloved concert halls, in vivid, enthralling detail, from its opening in 1901 to the present day. An enjoyable, fascinating and affectionate read, the book is a wonderful tribute to Wigmore Hall, the many musicians who have graced its stage, and the audiences and others who make the venue so special. 

Happy Birthday, Wigmore Hall!

There is Sweet Music Here: The World of Wigmore Hall is published in the UK by Elliott & Thompson.

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Woolf String Quartet & Duncan Honeybourne, Chamber Music Weymouth lunchtime concert, Wednesday 25 February 2026

Woolf Quartet are: Zosia Herlihy-O’Brien (violin), Emily Harrison (violin), Beatrice Slocumbe (viola) and Hoda Jahanpour (cello)

When the audience comes out of a concert with words like “incredible!”, “brilliant” and “that was absolutely superb”, you know the musicians, and the music, has touched them. And that is what happened on Wednesday, 25 February, when the Woolf Quartet returned to Weymouth to impress the lunchtime concert audience once again. This London-based string quartet was formed at the Royal Academy of Music, and they take their name from author Virginia Woolf, as they often rehearse in Bloomsbury, close to where she lived.

They made their Chamber Music Weymouth debut in 2025 and wowed the audience with an engaging programme that featured Debussy and a piece by the quartet’s cellist, Hoda Jahanpour. This time they were joined by pianist and CMW Artistic Director Duncan Honeybourne to perform just one piece – Brahms’ Piano Quintet in f minor. A big-boned work of symphonic textures and narrative breadth, it has the expansiveness of Schubert in its four movements, and is one of the most challenging and important works in the chamber music repertoire. It asks of all the musicians virtuosity, stamina and cohesion, and an ability to navigate many modulations, complex rhythmic shifts, and fugal passages. It’s a monumental work, emotionally intense and physically demanding, and a challenge for any ensemble – and one which the Woolf Quartet rose to with commitment, maturity and musical insight.

It’s rare to feel a thread of concentrated energy through an entire concert – not an easy feat for musicians to achieve – but the Woolf Quartet, with Duncan Honeybourne, succeeded in doing just this. It’s a credit to them – and a mark of the infectiousness of their concentration – that the audience was almost completely silent for the entirety of the concert, listening intently to Brahms’ shifting soundworld and the emotions it suggests.

The Woolf Quartet, both individually and together, brought much colour and nuance to the music. Brahms’ writing gives each player a chance to shine. The ensemble playing was precise and committed, amply matched by Duncan Honeybourne, who made light of Brahms’ rather unforgiving piano textures. Most engaging, though, was that the musicians clearly enjoyed themselves. It’s always a pleasure to see performers truly immerse themselves in music that they love.

Catch the Woolf Quartet if you can – you won’t regret it! They will be at London’s Wigmore Hall on Saturday, 2 May, where, I’m told, they will be performing a piece they have written together, as well as music by Shostakovich.

Chamber Music Weymouth’s lunchtime series continues on Wednesday 11 March with a recital by distinguished pianist Margarat Fingerhut. Find out more

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Ahead of the world premiere of his new piano work Sudden Memorials, written in response to the aftermath of 9/11, composer Kevin Malone shares insights into his creative life, his influences and inspirations and why he thinks we need to take more “time to think”….

Who or what were the most significant influences on your musical life and career as a composer?

Roger Mroz, my first serious saxophone teacher in Buffalo, New York, has left a positive, indelible influence on my teenage psyche regarding high levels of performance and serious repertoire. Ken Radnofsky at New England Conservatory offered wisdom by telling me to attend cello and voice masterclasses so that I wouldn’t be just a saxophonist, but instead like a musician who considers the context of interpretation.

When I stumbled upon the music of Rouse, Stravinsky, Weir, Reich, Beethoven, Crumb and Laurie Anderson, I realised that there are approaches to composition outside “the system,” yet their works contained logic, rigour and a strong sense of internally-established identity which made sense to me. Discovering the music of Ives at age 14 changed my life completely. His meticulous irrationality (an oxymoron, but an accurate description!) gets to the heart of what it’s like to be human: the visceral and philosophical self being one.

All of the above meld into how I think of what a composition is for me: a script for musicians to act upon, to interpret.

What have been the greatest challenges/frustrations of your career so far?

Without any doubt, it is time to think. Teaching at a university is about productivity, making it challenging to create anything truly unique to add important works to the repertoire or broaden musical expressivity. If we had time to think, then we could properly assess where we’ve come from and where we are in musical composition. For the past 60 years, the focus in the arts has been on manner, not substance, and manner (style) is highly marketable so it’s taken precedence. These mannerisms pretend to address the above questions, but instead they create a veneer to evade truly addressing and reevaluating compositional substance.

There’s also time wasted because, as a citizen, we have responsibilities to challenge oppression, injustice and maltreatment. When a government sets out to privilege its financial support base and offer promises specific to its voting base, then every musician and composer must join others to take action. That takes up much mental space and time. I’ve been shocked when some composer associates have told me that such activism is up to others, even though my associates will benefit, because they claim they are here to be composers.

What are the special challenges/pleasures of working on a commissioned piece?

I usually come up with ideas which I’m burning to compose into audience experiences; some of these become proper commissions, such as Sudden Memorials for Adam Swayne. When approached with a commission idea, then I like lots of discussion to ensure I honour the commissioner. For example, A Day in the Life is a violin concerto commissioned in 2018 by Andy Long, Associate Leader of the Orchestra of Opera North. He had a very specific brief that it should relate to Robert Blincoe, an indentured child forced to work in Northern textile mills in the late 18thC. I undertook massive amounts of research into Blincoe, indentured children and historic and current Northern mills. We discussed the proposed scenario at length, considered the audience, and after many coffees together, the music just flowed, since we had devised the vessel inside which the music would sail with many adventures along the way.

What are the special challenges/pleasures of working with particular musicians, singers, ensembles or orchestras?

Oh my, that’s everything! With some close artistic associates, I actually want to completely let go of the piece when I give it to them, so that it’s entirely theirs. I want to wait until they perform it before I hear it! That level of trust and synchronised thinking is rare, but so very precious.

With others, I like to get into lots of conversations about what the piece should be doing for the listener, and how they may wish to change things here and there to achieve that. I want to hear and learn about their sound, timing, phrasing and articulation so that they and the music are speaking the same language, dialect and accent as to what I intended.

Of which works are you most proud?

Eighteen Minutes (concerto for double basses) and Requiem77 (cello and voices) for their simplicity and directness (both are on iTunes and Spotify)

Sudden Memorials (piano) and Opus opera (string quartet) for their scale which goes beyond structures, and variety of emotional unfolding.

A Day in the Life (violin concerto) and The Water Protectors for their thorough grounding in people’s experiences, tribulations and activism

And HerStories Unsung Vol.1 and The People Protesting Drum Out Bigly Covfefe for the reaction they evoke from audiences: real audience participation! Check out the premiere by Diana Lopszyc of HerStories: Lilith:

and The People Protesting premiere by Adam Swayne:

How would you characterise your compositional language?

It is polystylistic in that each work is a heady brew of multiple styles and dialects, aimed at thwarting predictability as to what comes next, yet often imbued with familiar sounds in unusual gestures. For example, a series of triadic chords may appear – what I call “tonal artefacts” – and sometimes they might suggest a sort of archaeological dig revealing a tonal centre, but one which is seriously disjointed (not apologetically muddied or blurred). So it sounds familiar, but the syntax is wildly new.

I like what Beethoven said: good music should always have beauty and surprise. That’s a powerful combination when it’s understood and balanced. I would say my music is 20% music for music’s sake, and 80% music for listener’s emotional and psychological enlivenment. I like to experiment with new approaches in compositions for ensembles, and not to experiment with the musicians themselves. As a performer for many years, it was disheartening to have a composer ignore the many thousands of hours I put into a wide palette of solid technique, only to find that I had to develop an equally convincing technical range for just this one composer for just one piece (which most likely would be performed once). We are social beings, and it is important to respect what your musicians bring to the table. A medium-size orchestra offers 600,000 hours of high-level musicality to a composer, so to ignore that is quite arrogant!

How do you work?

I think of what the audience experience would be, then I make a structural diagram of that experience, as specific as 2” phrases in some places. The structure is drawn linearly, often stretching four meters left to right. While I create the structure, I hear musical ideas in my head to make that experience, writing them in notation and English and taping the bits of paper to where they will be most effective. Eventually, the structure suggests where new ideas and developed ideas should go to best create that experience. This is wildly different from what I was taught, which was to take an idea(s) and develop it to see where it goes. I don’t think an audience cares to hear what decisions a composer took (that’s composerly-orientated music). To my ears, that approach sounds like the minutes of a staff meeting or a logical proof being justified. I’d rather focus on giving the audience an experience instead of asking them to experience my music as a composition.

This may sound quite opinionated, but I think of it as my music having an opinion – and strong ones at that – so that its narrative is spicy, flavourful, sometimes contradictory, always provocative.

As a musician, what is your definition of success?

To attain a sustained high level of craft which produced provocative, original works that communicate to audiences. I am suspicious of celebrity artists; surely hearing their artistry without knowing who they are should have the same value as knowing their identity. But sadly, there’s so much emphasis on marketing the person and putting artists into gladiator-type situations like X Factor and Britain’s Got Talent, where artists are spontaneously judged with the goal of choosing one winner and many dozens of losers. I’d love to see a TV show called Comp Idol: composers writhing in ecstatic spasms of inspiration, trying to impress instead of express. (Channel 4: I have the treatment already drawn up.)

What do you consider to be the most important ideas and concepts to impart to aspiring musicians?

To work your ass off. To not underestimate the incalculable hours and years of work it takes to really say something artistically. To seek criticism from every quarter. To take risks. To not be defensive. To not try to be original, but instead to be genuinely the best of what’s inside you, which takes a lifetime. When these are achieved, you’ll be making a unique contribution to that life-force we call music.

What do you feel needs to be done to grow classical music audiences/listeners?

To teach the art-music of our diverse cultures from pre-school onward as compulsory in every school. To insist on accurate representations of art-music (it is for all people, not just certain social classes) and a vocabulary to talk about it (a perfect fifth is a perfect fifth in classical, hip-hop, reggae, ska, house, techno, jazz, folk, pop, etc.). To have a funded community orchestra/ensemble in every borough, and to make it accessible to everyone. Look at all the sports facilities in boroughs (wonderful!) but where is the funding for expressive arts? This mirrors the contempt that governments have for the power of the expressive arts: the mechanism which activates people to raise their voices and have their say.

Where would you like to be in 10 years’ time?

I have no idea. I live mostly in the present, evaluating where I’ve come from.

What is your idea of perfect happiness?

I don’t believe people should try to achieve happiness (a goal, a thing); rather, people should be happy (action, doing). This means making happy feelings for ourselves: they are our responsibility and under our control, and can change as circumstances change. For me, that is to write music which is rich with emotions and psychological states (wit, humour, sadness, surprise) and rigorously structured.

Is music the most important thing to me? No, but it is the only portal through which I achieve clarity to find out.

What is your most treasured possession?

It’s my Soviet-issued ceramic bust of Lenin which was given to me by the Composers Union of Ukraine. In 1994, they were no longer required to keep it on display in their office. I keep Lenin’s head warm with a pink pussy hat I knitted 5 years ago.

What do you enjoy doing most?

For leisure, watching films, which is such a widely diverse art form. What I enjoy doing most is composing when I’m not relaxing.

What is your present state of mind?

Great anxiety for society and humanity due to the immense greed of politicians and wealth-extraction industries (i.e. most capitalist businesses). But day to day, I am enriched by my partner and our long-haired German Shepherd dog; they buoy my hope for the future.

Sudden Memorials by Kevin Malone receives its world premiere in a concert by pianist Adam Swayne at London’s Wigmore Hall on Saturday 11th September at 1pm, the exact hour in Britain twenty years on the from the beginning of 9/11. More information

The score of Sudden Memorials is available from Composers Edition

The work of Kevin Malone spans genres and media beyond conventional labelling. He is equally at home with electronics, multimedia and harpsichords to choirs and orchestras, embracing postmodernist and hybrid approaches across his work.

Abandoning high Modernism, Malone speaks with an open, personal expression, freeing his music from the baggage of serious high art music without actually throwing away the bags.

Read more www.opusmalone.com

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When it’s a socially-distanced concert

I’ve been guilty of it myself, proudly trumpeting “this concert is now sold out!” for the events I have been promoting over the past two months (I work for a London-based arts organisation and a local concert series), and I know I’m not alone. For those of us who have been so bereft of live music this year – musicians, venue owners, promoters and of course audiences – the fact that live music, with audiences, has been able to resume is something to celebrate.

Government restrictions in response to coronavirus mean that venues cannot operate at full capacity, whether this is a church (capacity c80) or a major London venue (capacity c3000). Social distancing regulations require a certain amount of space to be allowed between audience members and in order to adhere to these regulations many venues are operating at less than half their normal capacity. Obviously, venues must be safe for audiences – if audiences feel safe they will come to events – but the maths is simple and very stark: fewer “bums on seats” means lower ticket revenues. And venues and concert promoters rely on this revenue in order to pay artists and cover the other costs of putting on concerts and running a venue. Additionally, venues are restricted regarding F&B service (Food and Beverages), in normal times a significant income stream.

So what to do? Obviously, venues and promoters, and of course musicians, are keen to welcome back live audiences – a concert is not really a concert without a live audience – but balancing the costs of presenting a concert against reduced ticket and other income is a significant headache.

If your venue is less than half full do you charge more than double the usual price for the tickets? Of course not. This would be unfair on audiences, and while a few would be prepared to pay more, to support venue and artists, many would be deterred by a hike in ticket prices and would choose to stay away. With current restrictions in place, many venues and promoters are struggling to break-even.

But for those of us who give or promote concerts, to be able to welcome audiences back through the doors once again is very important and I firmly believe that venues must, if they can, offer audiences something, within the limitations of coronavirus restrictions. Some venues are lucky to have generous patrons and benefactors or have benefitted from government handouts; others do not but are still willing to, in the medium term, take a financial hit and bring audiences back. But this scenario cannot last indefinitely and without proper ticket revenues, many venues and promoters will struggle, along with performing musicians.

The last properly sold out concert I attended before the first UK lockdown was at the Wigmore Hall at the end of February, when American pianist Jonathan Biss gave a thrilling performance of Beethoven Piano Sonatas (read more here). At the time, the coronavirus was not yet headline news; of course people were aware of it, and I recall a friend hugging me in the vestibule of the Wigmore before the concert and saying “oh, maybe we shouldn’t do that!” – and then we both laughed. The hall was full to capacity and the bars downstairs were busy and noisy as people enjoyed pre-concert and interval drinks and conversation. At the time, I didn’t know it would be the last live concert I would attend for seven months. When the Weymouth concert series, which I help to organise, resumed in October, we presented two shorter concerts to allow for a socially-distanced audience of reduced numbers (less than half our usual audience) and while the church looked sparse, it was wonderful to hear live music and also applause. We took the decision not to increase ticket prices and hoped to be able to at least cover our costs and pay our guest artist, without eating into our bank balance. We are fortunately in having low overheads, but we face similar difficulties to other concert organisers and promoters.

Times are tough once again for musicians as the UK is poised to enter another period of lockdown and live events must be suspended. Let us hope that the new year will bring more positive developments regarding the management of the virus, which will allow venues to operate more profitably.

Meanwhile, those of us who love live music can support artists and venues by buying concert tickets, to live and online events, and making a donation where possible.

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