Holy Trinity Church Hall, London NW3

It can be hard to give each performer their due in these reports. Sometimes they do not produce sterile perfection: a note might slip, a minor error might be noticeable. But what is reliably present is a sense of focus rare in children of these ages and a feeling of growing mastery. Those who play tend to be in some kind of harmony with their instruments, even if they are beginners. Music in these workshops is not an agonised survival of an enforced duty: it is a process of creativity. The usually simple tunes are not just another rendition of London's Burning: we see music start to come to life, with all sorts of material being used to communicate that greater good. This is hard to characterise, especially when it is achieved again and again with each child, or group of children, putting their distinctive stamp on whatever they have decided to perform.

We began with the dulcet tones of the Lazarus family (BBCM students Ilan and Mira with their brother Micha, with an introduction by their father John) singing an Israeli song (on which Agnes has promised to say more), before moving on to the toddlers and the familiar Hot Cross Bun. This was sung firstly in unison and then in two parts, with the usual toddler results: a variety of levels of focus, a range of unselfconsciousness and a rather sweet sound. Next came some audience participation with Old Macdonald and some percussion that matched the conductor's lead surprisingly well. The audience was encouraged to join in and some of them did. (It is refreshing to get the chance to sing 'oinks' in public: children just don't appreciate it, it's wasted on them...). TV people apparently say 'never work with animals and children' but Agnes managed to engineer a touching little ensemble out of these supposedly troublesome elements.

Alice was up next with her violin troop (Minerva, Jonjon and Hermione) to show us that children playing violins does not have to be painful: in fact, I couldn't help thinking that what we heard was a hint of the kind of beauty that a wood instrument can produce in well-trained hands in later years. These children were negotiating with their instruments, not dictating terms to them.

Agnes then subjected the toddlers and first year students to her Harry Hare treatment, coaxing faster and faster renditions out of them: she had the kind of obedience that many primary school teachers would die for, pulling their ever-more clipped notes into precision. Ryan and I smiled at each other, remembering the time that he too was being trained on Harry, and as we sped up (literally; we were going downhill on my bike at the time) the immortal line emerged 'Harry Hare is in a curry'. No such infelicities here. (the first line of the song says 'Harry Hare is in a hurry' ) What I like about Agnes' teaching is that the children produce their own sweet voices, not the kind of strained yelling that characterises Nativity Plays and the like. Typically children, that should not really be asked to do things that are too difficult, proved they could keep their mental balance in two parts quite comfortably with those other stalwarts, Pease Pudding and Ram Sam Sam, a song I have managed to stop singing to myself in public after much effort. Just to prove the point, these youngsters then performed what I am reliably informed is the Swedish Bell Song (two parts) and a Hungarian Marching Song, walking in two and four circles respectively (though there was some strengthening of their numbers for this one with seniors Minerva and Clotilde, both 8 years olds, who kindly deputised for absentee youngsters). The transition to a song in Humperdinck's opera (Hansel and Gretel) was a smooth one, involving new-fangled cassette technology to compare their worthy efforts with.

The cosmopolitan flavour continued with a Hungarian version of London's Burning by Becky Galfalvi and her mother Elisabeth which we then appropriated (and translated) for a four part audience round. After that treat the stage was invaded by a different troop of violinists (Hannah, Akira and Becky) who adopted the preceding repertoire and added London Bridge to it: not a screech in sight as they showed the kind of concentration that always astounds me in these workshops. Sophia Dignam then proceeded to play a piece (Fiocco Allegro) that I would have sworn was impossible for a child of her age, virtually flawlessly. In the rapid cascade of song, one could detect a feeling for her violin, and the refusal to reduce the song to something to be conquered: one could hear something that perhaps can only be put across by music. This was the point where the wish that I had learned an instrument as a child could be held off no longer. I am definitely missing out.

Fortunately my plans to blame my (musical) parents was distracted by a break welcome only because of some very bad chair design. The slightly chaotic return saw Ryan up on stage with his cello. Luckily he couldn't see how nervous *I* was and simply sat down to produce Frere Jacques: firstly with Agnes (and what a treat to hear her play). Having warmed up, they did a round before Ryan did his now-famous self-round of singing and playing. As a proud parent, I am not qualified to judge but the fact that I hear it at home all the time and still enjoy listening to it must count for something. Ryan did not escape just yet, as his fourth year group came up to do a percussion ensemble (a Sary-style exercise playing their own rhythms) followed by a song in a round with syncopated ostinato accompaniment. They were joined by a small mixed class with whom they performed Frere Jacques in self-round (each child singing one part, clapping the other) and who then moved on to a melodic Sary exercise.

Full stage next, with nearly all the BBCM students (including the adult class) performing Farmer Jacob (No.13, Bicinia Hungarica). It made me think they should do fund-raising choir work together. Then came Nami Igarashi, complete with mother Yuki, with a Japanese song about the spring and Becki Galfalvi (with mother Elisabeth) offering a Hungarian folksong, also about the spring (how does Agnes find such an international community of youngsters with voices?!) (and mothers, I hasten to add). It is these little personal pieces that made this workshop so worth attending, young, clear voices softly making their way out to us all. Potential futures for these aspirants were evoked by the teenage and adult classes, with their offering of Spring, this time by Bartok. They all looked - and sounded - as if they had been doing it all since they were knee-high to a grassshopper (because they have). Then Akira Leyow's millionth performance of the day came with her mother Catherine who drove home my shame by playing the newly-learned recorder. They gave us two traditional Caribbean songs: Humming Bird (Akira singing, Catherine playing the recorder) and Freedom, where they both sang about slavery (not hard to see how that became a traditional song).

Matthew (Peanut) Gold (age 12, teenage class) then coaxed his little sister Hollie (just 3, toddler class) to sing the famous Newcastle song Blaydon Races to us, possibly in honour of their Geordie father Alan. (very sweet how Matthew focussed on Hollie rather than us: a teacher in the making, I think). The Saner family showed what a four-piece can do: Minerva and Otto with mother Emily and father Cengiz gave us a four-part round of Kookaburra (no doubt they practised every dinnertime). More family offerings followed when Hugo and Oscar Blouin-Cook (along with mother Valerie) added to the European contingent with a traditional French song (about plucking some birds), before Clotilde Yap did the 'look, the piano is playing itself rather well' sketch (young Clotilde was not visible behind the piano while she performed the Sailor's Dance by Pauline Hall). Not to be outdone, Hugo Blouin-Cook surprised Agnes with a solo violin piece (Robots). Two more accomplished musicians, Mira (age 10) and brother Ilan Lazarus (age 15), treated us to their piece on voice and piano (Chattanooga Choo Choo by Harry Warrant and Mack Gordon).

Experience proved no barrier as the newest BBCM student Asal produced enough of her family (four in total) to offer us an Old Iranian song (now there's solidarity...). Agnes, never one to miss the chance, took the opportunity of an impromptu Happy Birthday for Minerva to have the song sung again with sol-fa with Ilan Lazarus' improvised piano accompaniment. We rounded off with visitor Jake (age 6), brother of Hannah, with a ditty about the town mouse and the country mouse, before Salome and Clotilde (half-French students) proved language is no boundary and offered Frere Jacques in Polish (though I have only their word for it...).

The ending was, as usual, punctuated with my aspiration to assembly my musical family for the next workshop, a sense of wanting more, biscuits being dropped on the floor, Agnes panicking about the hall and various parents picking up brooms with that parental calm. At this point I left, armed with quarter-size cello and son, wondering if I could practise on it while he does not...

Jason Davies
father of Ryan, 4th year class

P.S. by Agnes Kory:

1) The text of Israeli song 'Eli, Eli', performed so very beautifully by the Lazarus family trio at the opening , was a poem by Hanna Szenes. She was an assimilated Hungarian Jewish girl (daughter of an established Hungarian playright) who in 1939 (at the age of 18) emigrated to Israel (then Palestine). Horrified by the increasing atrocities of the Nazis in Europe, Hanna Szenes joined the British Army and was trained for special missions. In June 1944 she was parachuted into Hungary where she was immediately captured. Hanna Szenes then was interrogated and tortured for 6 months but refused to provide any information. She was executed in November 1944.