How Scotland's top young musicians blew me away

The Herald Scotland

26-05-2025

A couple of decades ago, I used to visit to see my girlfriend (now wife) performing as part of her piano degree programme. At the time I was studying English and politics along the road at Strathclyde Uni, and walking into the RSAMD (as it was then known) always felt like entering an entirely different world - one where being absurdly exceptional was just the starting point.
Twenty years on, that feeling is very much still there.
In the canteen that doubles as a waiting area for families, friends and performers, I watched proud parents take photographs of teenagers in smart shirt-and-ties and formal dresses, their faces an endearing mixture of excitement, anxiety and, for those who had already performed, relief.
As I sat in the auditorium waiting for the afternoon session to begin, I was reminded that being a great performer isn't just about musical ability or the hundreds and thousands of hours spent practising. I was only there to watch and make notes, and have spoken at all sorts of events to audiences large and small, but even to me the room felt intimidating, with a huge Steinway grand piano glowing under the purple intermission lights, and the sense of anticipation growing with every seat that was filled.
The nerves in the room were unignorable, and I couldn't help but wonder how it felt to be backstage, or in a nearby practice room, knowing that your time is coming – that in a few minutes, you'd have to walk out on that stage, in front of all those people, and pull out what you hope is basically the performance of your life so far.
The session began with a video from violinist Nicola Benedetti who told the young musicians to relax, to trust themselves, and to let their performance 'go where it wants.' And then it was time for the music to begin.
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First out was a young man from Shetland with a white shirt, polished shoes, and an alto saxophone. I was writing notes as he brought it to his lips to get started, and as he finished his first piece – Samba Triste – I looked down and realised that my pen had remained suspended in place, just a few millimetres from the page, and I hadn't even noticed.
Next up was a singer from South Lanarkshire who combined the scale and emotion of Song to the Seals with the genuinely funny – and still enormously technically impressive – Taylor, the Latte Boy.
She was followed by a mesmerising clarsach player whose instrument was almost the same size as her, and whose confidence even allowed for a few glances to the audience as her fingers flicked and fluttered across the strings.
A violinist played a piece he had first come across on social media. I was reminded just how bizarre-looking a bassoon is up close, and just how amazing it can be made to sound in the right hands.
On and on it went, with stunning performance after stunning performance.
And of course there was the odd error – a note missed by a fraction, a vanishingly slight loss of dynamic control, or a finger not quite keeping up with the fireworks going off in a musician's brain.
But all they did was reinforce just how magical it feels to sit in the room like that one, in one of the world's leading performing arts centres, and watch a bunch of kids demonstrating just how brilliant they really are.