At the end of July, the University of York played host to the 14th Biennial International Conference on Music in Nineteenth-Century Britain — an event that has become a highlight in the calendar for anyone working in this field. I was delighted to attend this year not only as a delegate but also as a speaker, alongside two colleagues from the University of Birmingham: Professor Paul Rodmell and fellow researcher Steven Jeon. It was a memorable week of scholarship, music, and meaningful exchange, and a welcome chance to step outside the daily grind of writing and teaching to immerse myself in the wider research community.
This year’s conference was particularly rich in scope. It offered four days of panels, keynotes, lecture-recitals, workshops, and social events, bringing together researchers from across the UK, Europe, North America, and beyond. The sheer variety of topics — from British musical memorials and female oboists to the soundscapes of Wilkie Collins novels — was a testament to how diverse and vibrant the field of nineteenth-century British music studies has become. The organisers deserve full credit for curating such an inclusive, stimulating programme that encouraged genuine cross-pollination of ideas.
It was especially gratifying to see the University of Birmingham so well represented. Professor Paul Rodmell, whose extensive work on Victorian music has been instrumental to the field, delivered a fascinating paper early on the first day, titled The Curious Case of Isidore De Lara (1858–1935). De Lara is one of those figures who seems to drift in and out of music history textbooks, despite having had a truly international career and significant success in his lifetime. Paul’s talk brought clarity to De Lara’s position as a British composer with a complex and at times contradictory relationship to the continental opera scene. His insights into De Lara’s career challenges — particularly regarding national identity and critical reception — sparked much discussion about the politics of canon formation and historiography.
Later that same afternoon, Steven Jeon presented his paper, Redefining Chamber Music: Listening Practices at the Monday and Saturday Popular Concerts at the St James’s Hall in London. I’ve had the pleasure of discussing this work with Steven informally over the past year, but seeing it presented so compellingly to a wider audience was another matter entirely. His research challenges the often-dismissive attitudes toward so-called “popular” concerts and opens up important questions about audience behaviour, programming, and cultural accessibility. By drawing attention to overlooked repertoires and alternative listening cultures, Steven’s work encourages us to rethink long-held assumptions about what constitutes ‘serious’ or ‘art’ music — a conversation that feels particularly urgent in current debates about inclusion and diversity in classical music history.
My own paper, delivered on Wednesday morning in the “Britain and Russia” session, focused on Alexander Alyabyev: A Conduit of British Musical Ideas in Early Nineteenth-Century Russia. Alyabyev, widely known in Russia for his romances and operatic works, is rarely discussed in Anglophone musicological contexts — despite the strong British stylistic currents that run through his music. I argued that Alyabyev’s work not only reflects British influence, particularly via the nocturne and ballad traditions, but also helps us rethink cultural exchange beyond the usual West-European binaries. I was grateful for the thoughtful questions and feedback that followed — particularly on how this research intersects with ongoing reappraisals of Russian salon culture and transnational reception histories. Presenting it at a conference where the spirit of exchange was so alive felt particularly meaningful.
What made the entire experience even more rewarding was the conference atmosphere itself. From the very first coffee break, it was clear that this was a space of genuine collegiality and curiosity. Conversations sparked in panels continued over lunch, through evening concerts, and even on the shuttle bus to the dinner venue. One evening, a Wilkie Collins-themed musical salon took place in the Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall — an unexpected delight combining performance, historical commentary, and Victorian flair. Events like these reminded us all why in-person conferences still matter: they offer opportunities for creative collisions and informal learning that simply can’t be replicated over Zoom.
York, as a location, added a layer of historical resonance to the proceedings. A city steeped in architectural and musical heritage, it provided a deeply atmospheric backdrop. Many delegates, myself included, found time to visit York Minster and its remarkable library collection. Others took part in a walking tour of historic music venues around the city, guided by resources developed through local university partnerships. Between sessions, wandering through the cobbled streets or catching glimpses of the city’s ancient walls offered a reflective counterpoint to the intensity of scholarly dialogue.
Perhaps most memorable, though, was the sense of momentum this conference created. At a time when academic precarity, workload, and funding cuts cast long shadows over the humanities, it felt uplifting to be in a space where ideas were valued, debated, and celebrated. The MNCB conference is not only a platform for presenting research; it is a space for cultivating community. It reminds us that the work we do — researching the voices of the past, re-evaluating marginalised repertoires, interrogating cultural narratives — continues to matter.
For the University of Birmingham team, this was also a moment of pride. Seeing our institution represented across sessions by early-career and senior researchers alike reinforced how embedded nineteenth-century music research remains within our academic identity. Whether it was over drinks at the evening reception or deep in panel discussion, Birmingham voices contributed meaningfully to the shape of the conference.
Now that we’re back at our writing desks and teaching commitments, there’s a strong sense that the conversations sparked in York will resonate well beyond the conference itself. Planning for the 15th edition in 2027 is already underway, and I have no doubt it will once again provide a space for discovery, debate, and camaraderie.
As for me — I left York with a notebook full of ideas, a renewed sense of scholarly community, and a vivid reminder that these conversations are far from over. They’ll continue in our lecture rooms, rehearsal spaces, archives, and concert halls — long after the final farewell at the Bowland Auditorium.
