On the grand occasion of a 90th birthday, you can expect a focus on the good days of yesteryear. But as Glyndebourne enters its tenth decade, the prestigious opera institution is planning ahead. “We spend a lot of time here thinking about the future,” muses artistic director Stephen Langridge. “Where do we want to be when we are a hundred? Where do we want opera to be?”
With a reputation as the fanciest and stuffiest art form – opera performances are often long, in a foreign language and made from music that few of us grew up with – much of that distinction in Britain has to do with Glyndebourne. In summer, the grounds of the East Sussex country house play host to hordes of people in chic evening wear who host elaborate picnics before the break. For many it seems a world away from reality. But when Langridge talks about opera, the stale clichés it has built up fall away. “My definition of opera is telling stories through music and action,” he says, as he talks. “And if that’s what opera is, then it exists everywhere, in every culture. It is a way of reflecting the world around us. But it will only reflect our world if we open it up.”
Over the course of his five-year tenure at Glyndebourne, Langridge and his team have asked themselves who opera is made for, by and for, and what role they can play in its expansion. “We know there is talent everywhere, but there are not always opportunities,” he says. Such was the case for the young Alison Buchanan, who thought she was the only black opera singer in the world. “Then I came to Glyndebourne,” the famous soprano recalls, “and the first thing I noticed was that I wasn’t the only one.”
At the age of 16, Buchanan was the youngest performer ever to be part of the Glyndebourne choir – a title she still holds – for the 1986 production of Porgy and Bess, directed by Trevor Nunn, conducted by Simon Rattle and starring Cynthia Haymon and Willard White. all-black cast. “I feel very privileged to have had this as my first opera experience,” says Buchanan. But this was a one-off. “All the singers were brought in to do the Black opera,” she says of Porgy and Bess, “and after that there was no more opera for them to do. Nobody wanted them.” During the production, Buchanan befriended fellow performer Lloyd Newton, who, frustrated by the lack of opportunities for black opera singers, decided to create them himself. When he died in 2017, Newton transferred his Pegasus Opera Company, an organization that supports singers from the global majority, to Buchanan’s care. In 2021, Buchanan brought the business full circle by entering into a new partnership with Glyndebourne.
This work makes us better, on a purely musical, theatrical level. But also better at communicating with society
Stephen Langridge
“It all started after George Floyd was killed,” Buchanan said. Pegasus asked the industry to join them against racial injustice and challenged arts organizations to use more than just words to show their solidarity against racism. “It was Glyndebourne who really stepped up and wanted to know how we could do something different.” Now Glyndebourne and Pegasus have created a partnership that offers a program of coaching and mentoring opportunities for classical singers of African and Asian descent, including observers, masterclasses and one-on-one support.
These arrangements prevent a lack of opportunities from standing in the way of talent. They also ensure that talented musicians have role models they can recognize. “I have memories of when I was younger and never saw people like me on stage,” says pianist and conductor Avishka Edirisinghe. He became involved with Pegasus by chance when the company needed an accompanist to cover a few rehearsals, and now works as assistant choir director at Glyndebourne, including on the upcoming production of Handel’s Giulio Cesare. He talks about the need for companies like Pegasus, where the term ‘outreach’ has a different impact. “It’s a little bit harder,” he says, “when you have white people showing you, as people of color, the ropes of the opera.”
Part of the general hesitation toward opera, Edirisinghe believes, is its cold, grandiose reputation. “It’s stupid,” he says. “None of the people I work with every day have the image that they are better than everyone else.” There is progress, he says, albeit slowly. “More and more people from different backgrounds are coming. As our generation grows up and becomes the people who become the face of opera, I am confident that it will be an art form that will be much more welcoming to everyone.”
Racism in opera has a long history. In 2022, controversy hit Italy’s Arena di Verona opera hall when the lead soprano’s skin was darkened to play Aida in Verdi’s opera, decades after other opera institutions had firmly banned blackface. Founded in the 1930s, Glyndebourne has staged countless performances that would shock us today, and the company’s inclusion statement specifically condemns the presentations of exoticism and orientalism that have taken place in previous operas, stating that these are ‘occasionally’ wrong . Today, the company is constantly learning how to light, dress and create wigs for different skin tones within the historic settings of their operas, while continuing to increase the diversity of their casts. “This work makes us better on a purely musical, theatrical level,” says Langridge firmly. “But it also means better in terms of communication with society.”
We want young people to see opera as an available form of experience that has the potential to be transformative
Stephen Langridge
The other core part of the ongoing long-term shift at Glyndebourne is broadening and diversifying the audience. The introduction of £30 tickets for under 30s has brought about change to some extent, but as they have been around since 2006 they are not as well known as they should be. “We want to ensure that young people see opera as an available experience that has the potential to be transformative,” says Langridge. The news spreads; this year, a further 2,500 young people registered for the scheme.
What happens when you turn 31? Cheaper standing tickets are available during the summer festival, and 14,000 tickets under £50 plus an under-40 membership are available during the autumn festival. However, some prices remain sky-high. A single ticket could cost you £285, and that won’t change. “The government does not subsidize our festival,” says Langridge. “We have to pay for the year-round staff, the artists, everyone. Most of that comes from the box office.” This has been even more important since 2023, when cuts to Arts Council funding forced the organization to cancel its planned tour; it introduced the autumn festival instead.
Just as positive change takes time, cuts and restrictions also take time to show their impact. “I got into classical music because when I was younger I was lucky enough to play in local orchestras and choirs,” says Edirisinghe. “That’s where it has to start. If you are involved from a young age, you are part of it, so it must be something for you.”
Langridge again thinks about Glyndebourne’s centenary in ten years’ time. There need to be cuts and stigmas need to be broken, but he is hopeful and keen to cultivate new audiences, new talent and new interest. “I would like this to be a world where people don’t find opera too chic for them,” he says, both sunny and realistic. “Not everyone has to like it, but everyone should have the opportunity to see it.”
Glyndebourne runs until August 25.