Interviews

Conversations and reflections on the work of a collaborative pianist.

This section brings together a selection of interviews and conversations about my work, published over the years in specialist journals and platforms.

They originate from different professional contexts — theatrical, pedagogical and artistic — and address topics such as operatic preparation, the role of the collaborative pianist, the relationship between music, language and voice, and the psychological dimension of performance.

These texts are not intended as promotional material, but as a reflection of an ongoing professional and artistic path, shaped through long-term collaboration with singers, conductors, colleagues and institutions.

Behind the scenes of opera coaching

(In conversation with Toomas Kaldaru)

Adapted from an interview by Liis Kolle, originally published in the Estonian specialized magazine Teater. Muusika. Kino, September 2025

A profession without a single name

The profession I practice is difficult to name.

Over the years it has been described as vocal coach, répétiteur, maestro collaboratore, chef de chant, or concertmaster — each term touching part of the reality, but none fully encompassing it.

Calling it simply "pianist" is misleading. This work goes far beyond piano playing: it involves musical preparation, work on text and language, stylistic awareness, and close collaboration with singers throughout the rehearsal process. In different cultural and linguistic contexts, the same role carries different names and expectations — which only underlines how complex and multifaceted it is.

In the Italian tradition, the term maestro sostituto comes closest to how I understand my work: an assistant to the conductor, focused specifically on the singers. In an opera production, the conductor must oversee the orchestra, the choir, and the overall structure; there is rarely time to work in detail with each individual singer. My task lies precisely there — working with singers one by one, following the development of a role, ensuring musical clarity, rhythmic precision, and coherence with what happens in the orchestra.

I like to think of myself as a craftsman rather than an artist. The artists are those on stage: the singers and the conductor. My role is to prepare the ground. I work with the score in hand — phrase structure, dynamics, articulation, word stress, the relationship between text and music. In itself, this is not art; art begins once these elements are in place.

Emotion, in my view, is already embedded in the music. When the text flows naturally, when the tempo of a recitative aligns with speech, when sound is produced freely and without tension, expression often emerges on its own. One cannot impose emotion on an audience, but one can create the conditions in which sound resonates deeply.

For this reason, I approach the work pragmatically. I do not impose interpretations, nor do I dictate tempi or artistic choices — these belong to the conductor and the singer. My responsibility is to ensure that singers are prepared well enough, musically and vocally, to make their own artistic decisions on stage with confidence.

In this sense, the role is closer to that of a trainer than a teacher. I do not consider singers students, they all are independent artists. As in high-level sport, preparation involves technical clarity, mental focus, and trust in one's own work. Ultimately, the singer stands alone on stage — and must be able to rely on that preparation.

Perhaps this is why the profession has no single name. It exists at the intersection of music, language, voice, and psychology — and its purpose is not to replace the artist, but to support the conditions in which artistry can happen.

Working with different singers and contexts

The way I work always depends on the person.

When a singer comes to me for the first time, the first question I ask is simple: what do you expect from this work?

Sometimes the focus is purely musical, sometimes linguistic, and sometimes vocal — most often, it is a combination of all three. With singers preparing for major productions, the work is usually centered on musical clarity and logic. There may be small vocal questions, but the goal is precision: rhythm, structure, and coordination with the orchestra.

I do not work with complete beginners. With singers facing specific vocal-technical difficulties, the work may occasionally resemble vocal teaching, but always within a broader musical framework. Every collaboration is highly individual.

Language and diction play a central role in my work. Opera cannot be coached without a real understanding of the text. Pronunciation alone is not enough: one must grasp the logic, rhythm, and structure of a language. Italian and German are essential for the core operatic repertoire; French is also extremely valuable. As Jessye Norman once said: "I never sing in a language I cannot speak."

For this reason, I do not coach operas whose text I do not understand. Without that knowledge, something fundamental is missing — even if the notes are correct. Very often, musical and expressive solutions emerge naturally once the text becomes clear.

In the theatre, my responsibility is to ensure that singers are sufficiently prepared so that the conductor can do their work. During rehearsals, I follow the score closely, often from behind the conductor, taking detailed notes. Feedback is constant — sometimes direct, sometimes through annotated pages of the score.

Singing on stage with the orchestra inevitably brings new challenges. My role is not to interfere, but to help resolve issues efficiently and calmly, so that singers can perform with confidence. Over time, this builds trust and a sense of shared responsibility — always adapted to the individual artist.

Learning, responsibility, and artistic independence

In my coaching, I am careful not to interfere unnecessarily. Even simply playing in a singing lesson is an art: sometimes you must become the orchestra and nothing more. Having been a singer myself, I know how disruptive it can be when a pianist interrupts too much.

Often, progress comes from something very simple. You say: "Look at the phrase," and suddenly everything falls into place — including the singing. Singing is movement; a phrase is movement; breath is movement. When these elements flow, the music comes alive.

A singer's life is one of constant input. The conductor speaks, the director speaks, the coach speaks — everyone wants something. From an early stage, singers must learn how to deal with this and take responsibility for their own artistic choices. On stage, ultimately, you are alone.

One of my goals is not to create dependency. I want to be present when needed, but never to replace the singer's responsibility. Confidence grows when a singer realizes: I can do this myself.

Giving feedback requires care. I cannot lie, but I must choose words that open a person rather than limit them. Labels are dangerous. I never say: "You have this problem." Such sentences stay with people for life. Instead, I work with the situation and help improve it — without fixing identities.

Every singer learns differently. My task is not so much to teach as to create an environment in which learning can happen naturally. The artist on stage is the result of their own life experience, talent, and work — not the coach. The Olympic medal goes to the athlete, not to the trainer.

I am fully at peace with not being on stage. My satisfaction comes from seeing a performance succeed — knowing that something we worked on has found its life in front of an audience. From a certain point on, the stage itself becomes the teacher.

About good vocal technique

We all breathe naturally. Our bodies know perfectly well how to breathe without conscious interference. My work always starts from this natural breathing impulse — learning to use it, rather than building structures on top of it.

Even a single thought can become a structure and create unnecessary tension. For this reason, I avoid terminology that implies stasis. When we say "hold" or "keep it open," tension is already introduced. Singing must remain dynamic — and even the language we use must stay dynamic.

Today, breathing is often overlooked. Much is said about muscles and control, but the human voice is inseparable from breath — something elusive, impossible to examine under a microscope. Our breathing works perfectly when we sleep. That same breathing must be brought into singing.

Technique must be conscious, yet awareness is difficult to sustain. Trying to control individual muscles rarely helps; coordinating hundreds of muscles consciously often creates more tension, not less.

At the same time, singers need guidance. Metaphors only work when there is a shared system. Once that system exists, metaphors become precise tools. For this reason, I rarely encourage people to observe lessons. Working with another person's voice is an intimate process; observation changes both the singer and the coach.

Very often, singers speak about "color" too early. Musical logic must come first. Notes, rhythm, phrasing — these are the foundation. You cannot start reading a novel from the last page.

My role is to do the essential groundwork — sometimes the less visible work — so that artistic freedom can emerge naturally.

Visibility, teaching, and choice

The work that interests me most remains coaching. I enjoy preparing operatic roles with singers who already have a solid foundation. Teaching beginners is a demanding and specialized profession, which I respect deeply, but do not see as my path.

What truly interests me is how the voice is placed within the music. My work begins with the score and develops from there. This balance — music first, voice within music — suits me.

I value contexts where real collaboration with singers exists. Some systems leave little room for that. I prefer environments where preparation remains alive, both in institutions and in private work.

I have never believed strongly in advertising. Most of my work has come through recommendation. I do not actively promote myself, yet I have never lacked work. Availability, not selection, is usually the deciding factor.

Of course, visibility matters today. I use social media, but prefer to remain in the background there as well. I value long-term collaborations and remain open to new ones. My main challenge is learning to say no — a necessary discipline for balance and quality.

Link to the full interview (in Estonian)

Read the complete original interview in Teater. Muusika. Kino (Estonian)

Links to other interviews

The invisible backstage profession of Toomas Kaldaru  

Interview in the Estonian Magazin of Classical Music "Muusika", January 2021 (in Estonian)

Portraits at the Opera: Toomas Kaldaru 

Interview on the blog Pianisti all'opera, April 2021 (in Italian)