In a recent piece I wrote after our summer concert, I mentioned I’d be sharing an “exclusive” on Elisabeth, our musical director. It had sounded rather like a paparazzi scoop in the making, and in truth, that was sort of the spirit I approached it in. Elisabeth has, in our choir at least, something of a quiet celebrity status. A bit of mystery, a lot of admiration, and the sense that behind the calm, capable presence was a story well worth hearing. 

It was not just to satisfy the interest of curious choir members that I wanted to know more about the person behind the pitch pipe. The one who occasionally has to remind us, with a wry smile, that she cannot sing both parts at once, however much we might wish she could. What it really came down to was that in a choir so full of connection and shared purpose, I felt there was immense value in pausing to shine a light on the person who has both the skill and the passion to create and empower a community of strong, thoughtful women who collectively produce something for others, but perhaps even more importantly, discover something within themselves. 

Elisabeth is the person who helped build a choir from a small group of singers rehearsing to a cassette soundtrack into the large, joyful community that now brings pleasure to so many. I wanted to understand and have some insight into not just the journey that led to Elisabeth becoming our Musical Director, but why and how she does what she does. What music means to her. What she hopes we are building together. 

Of course, I did not say all of that to Elisabeth. I did not want to put her off chatting with me. I simply asked if she might be open to me asking her a few questions over a cup of tea. 

Her response? 

“It depends what the questions are…” 

But there it was, that almost imperceptible smile that reassured me my request was not entirely ridiculous. 

And so, on an overcast Thursday afternoon, we sat down to chat. During our conversation, Elisabeth was warm, open, full of fun and brimming with insight about music's place in education, in her own life, and in all of ours. It was an absolute joy to spend time with her. 

As soon as Elisabeth arrived at my home, we were instantly distracted by the pile of books on the table. We moved from Ann Cleaves to Sally Rooney before dipping into Jacqueline Wilson’s Girls in Love, a light read that revisits Ellie, Magda and Nadine, familiar characters for a younger generation of readers. It turned out Elisabeth, like my own children, had grown up with those books. I, meanwhile, had been reading and reviewing them in my role as school librarian, deciding where they should go on the shelves. That detail neatly highlighted the age gap between us, and led me to ask what it was like to lead a choir filled with people who were comfortably older than her and some of whom she had known for most of her life. 

Elisabeth said it was not a problem at all, but laughed as she admitted that there was sometimes a line she felt she could not quite cross. I never quite got around to asking directly what that invisible line might be. However, I could appreciate it is one thing to conduct a choir, but quite another when you are waving your arms at your former geography teacher, your old headteacher, and the person who once helped you to master an understanding of physics. 

Many of the Saints’ Singers choir have known Elisabeth since she was knee-high. I had not realised, as a newer member, just how far back some of these connections go. That geography teacher, incidentally, very nearly inspired her to take a completely different path. It was a close call between human geography and music when it came to applying to Oxford. And then there is her mum, Alison, who sings alongside us each week, quietly proud and resolutely low key. No fanfare, no fuss. Just another choir member, which somehow makes her presence even lovelier. 

It became clear that the quiet exterior that Alison wears masks a real pride. For example, during the Suzzie Vango “Sing Out!” workshop in Winterton last September, where Elisabeth brought together over 100 women for a day of singing at All Saints’ Church, Alison was visibly moved. Elisabeth smiled as I suggested she was leading those who once led her. Her current role of Saints Singers’ Musical Director is a two-way relationship, full of affection, a touch of reverence, and the occasional need to pretend you do not remember who saw your primary school productions! 

As we settled into a rhythm, it quickly became clear that for Elisabeth, as for many of us, stories and songs sit closely together. And gradually, through all the conversation and reflection, I began to uncover exactly what I had hoped to find: the why and how behind Elisabeth’s approach to music. Her love of storytelling, her belief in access and community, and her quietly passionate philosophy began to shine through. This came into focus when she told me about her undergraduate dissertation — an ethnomusicological study exploring how the spaces we are in shape the way we experience performance. Using the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment as her study, Elisabeth looked at how surroundings influence not only how we hear music but also how we respond to those performing it. 

Elisabeth explained that when it comes to classical music, audiences can tend to behave in the same quiet and formal way, no matter where the concert takes place. People sit silently, even in casual venues like pubs. The type of venue certainly shapes the demographics that might be attracted to attend a concert; a performance of the same selection of music in a concert hall versus one in a pub can attract a very different audience. Her research explored how these habits still shape our expectations today, and how they affect who feels included, and how people connect with the music and the musicians. As a student, Elisabeth had even considered becoming an ethnomusicologist, and she still finds the idea exciting. The study of music and people remains close to her heart. It makes perfect sense. Elisabeth understands that when performing music, we are both telling a story and, at the same time, we are the story being told. 

Elisabeth’s current life sees her content and thriving in Winterton and the wider local music community. Music has always been part of her world. She began piano lessons at the age of seven, later adding cello, and eventually achieved Grade 8 in both, along with music theory. Her mum, Alison, was a constant source of encouragement and it was she who encouraged Elisabeth to join the Scunthorpe Cooperative Junior Choir at just 3 years old. That early experience ignited a love of singing and shaped her thinking around music and education. Since then, Elisabeth has never been far from a choir. She recently performed Verdi’s Requiem with Scunthorpe and District Choral Society, conducted by Susan Hollingworth, who also directed the children’s choirs Elisabeth sang in growing up. 

After what Elisabeth describes as a kind and supportive education in Winterton, she studied French, German, English Literature and Music A Levels at John Leggott College before going on to read Music at Magdalen College, Oxford. She chose Magdalen partly because it had a deer park and a beautiful chapel. There may have been an element of family rebellion too! When Elisabeth expressed a desire to apply to Oxbridge, her mum thought that Clare College, Cambridge would be a great fit, but as far as rebellions from this self-confessed nerd go, it does not seem such a digression. Elisabeth loved the academic challenge of university, but Oxford was challenging with sometimes unreasonable expectations. Coming home after graduating felt deeply restorative. It gave Elisabeth a renewed sense of purpose and meaning to get involved in the local music scene. That return home, and the relationships she rebuilt and deepened there, may well be part of what makes the choir she now leads feel so cohesive. There is a natural ease and understanding between Elisabeth and the members that seems to come from shared roots, and perhaps also from a shared sense that singing itself can be a healing process. For many of us in the choir, it offers something calm and grounding. Elisabeth understands that, not only musically, but personally. 

At Oxford, Elisabeth played with the Oxford Millennium Orchestra and was active in the Magdalen College Music Society. She also took part in Music Plus, a programme that placed student musicians in schools, which helped spark her interest in educational outreach. After university, she applied to a number of arts charities and secured an internship at the York Early Music Festival, based at the National Centre for Early Music. She worked there for about a year in an administrative role, gaining valuable experience in programming and concert planning. I commented that she would be brilliant at that kind of work, given the way she curates such thoughtful and beautifully shaped programmes for our concerts. 

It was around this time that Elisabeth had taken on the role of Musical Director for Saints’ Singers and at the same time was completing a Kodály certificate and a Sing for Pleasure diploma scholarship, more tools in her ever-growing kit for choral leadership. She joined the North Lincolnshire Music Hub, teaching music to Early Years and Key Stage 1 pupils part time in schools across the area and a year later, she joined the Opera North Education team, first working with the Family team and then later with the In Harmony schools programme.  

It was when discussing Elisabeth’s work at Opera North that we shared an interesting conversation about her attitude to teaching music. 

Elisabeth spoke with conviction about the need for children to develop solid musicianship before learning individual instruments. In her view, seven is more than early enough to begin any instrument, and she believes the voice is just as powerful and valid as any other. Starting with broad musicality and notation helps build confidence and curiosity. When a child does move to an instrument, she feels it should be chosen with care and genuine enthusiasm. She recalled a policy from the early 2000s where every child in a primary school learned the same instrument in whole-class tuition. While well-intentioned, this approach assumed uniformity rather than supporting individual needs. Real equity, she argued, means recognising difference. 

Her passion for inclusive music education deepened as we discussed GCSE music.  She finds it elitist that students cannot achieve certain GCSE grades unless they have had private instrumental tuition, often outside of school. A circumstance that wouldn’t be allowed to continue with a core subject. This, she said, feels at odds with a community like ours, where everyone is welcomed and no one is excluded. 

These reflections come from her experience as both student and teacher. She spoke passionately about how schools often approach music, drama and sport as subjects where children either have innate talent (or don’t!), rather than skills to be taught. Without proper scaffolding, children may assume they are simply not musical. Music is just language, she said, but we do not treat it that way. 

Elisabeth admires Opera North’s approach, where children focus on play, rhythm and listening in the early years, with instruments introduced later. She believes this overlooked foundation makes all the difference. She became visibly animated when talking about how the arts are undervalued in early education. The notion that it is acceptable for young children to look cute on stage while the performance effort is ignored seemed as nonsensical to her as skipping phonics when teaching reading or leaving out the building blocks of early maths. Her belief in the arts being taken seriously, taught properly, and made accessible to all was infectious. It gave me a deeper appreciation for the drive and care she brings to every choir rehearsal. 

As one teacher talking to another, we could have chattered all day, but it was time to move on. I asked Elisabeth what some of her favourite choir songs were. Well, actually, I tried to guess, and to my surprise and slight satisfaction, I was right on the first two: Seasons of Love and For Good. She also named Hallelujah, a piece that seems to resonate deeply with both singers and audiences. It is one she says is a pleasure to watch us perform because of the emotion we bring to it and the way we tell its story. 

Throughout our conversation, Elisabeth returned again and again to the power of storytelling in music. The songs we sing tell stories, and the stories we tell shape who we are, both as individuals and as a choir. “It enables us to be vulnerable,” she said, her voice full of feeling. Some years ago, she read the lyrics of The Book of Love aloud to our group, treating them almost like spoken word poetry, to show just how powerful lyrics can be on their own. “The emotional weight and vulnerability,” she explained, “is carried not only by the notes but by the language.” 

At this point, Elisabeth mentioned that she often writes music and lyrics for the children she teaches. Lucky children, I thought. 

As we started to run out of time, I moved into a bit of a quick-fire round. This was partly to keep pace, and partly because I realised I had barely touched half the things I wanted to ask. Village or city? Definitely village. Elisabeth is happy where she is. She has a house in Barton that she is gradually renovating. She is in no rush, and there is something quietly satisfying, she said, about seeing an old house brought back to life over time. It became clear that Elisabeth is not only adept with a paintbrush but is also developing quite a fondness for gardening. 

When I asked about significant others, Elisabeth spoke warmly about her partner, Maddie, who although no longer formally involved in music, has great musicality, having grown up playing the cornet in bands. What matters most, Elisabeth said, is how supportive and loving Maddie is, always coming to concerts when she can and taking a genuine interest in the choir. Elisabeth laughed as she recounted how, during one concert break, a choir member jokingly pleaded with Maddie not to whisk her away to Leeds full time. For someone officially employed for just two hours a week, we have certainly become very attached to her. 

To end, I asked who she would choose as a celebrity choir member. It took a moment. She was briefly tempted by Ariana Grande in Wicked, then veered off course with Bob Mortimer, imagining him spending most of the rehearsal telling stories and making everyone laugh. Perhaps not ideal, I reflected, given that we are already a little too chatty at times. Eventually, Elisabeth settled on Cynthia Erivo. A great voice, yes, but more importantly, someone who truly lives the narrative. 

Finally, I asked Elisabeth what advice she might give to someone thinking about joining a choir. “Find the choir that’s right for you,” she said. “Go to some concerts. Do it.” Simple advice, but full of encouragement and clarity. 

And to her younger self? “Be less anxious about things. People find their way.” It was a quiet, sincere moment and one that stayed with me. Elisabeth admitted she has always been someone who overthinks, but in that moment we reflected that perhaps overthinking is not such a flaw. Perhaps it simply means you care. That you are paying attention. 

I had plenty more questions I wanted to ask, but it really was time to wrap up our chat. What I had suspected but saw with greater clarity after spending time with Elisabeth is that she is someone who thrives on community, people and music. I didn't really get the chance to explore what the future holds, but if I had a crystal ball, I would guess there might be a doctoral thesis on the psychology of music, identity and belonging somewhere on the horizon. I wonder if I am right, or perhaps completely off the mark. The “what’s next” question is perhaps something for a future exclusive.  

What I can say for now is that it was a real privilege to spend time with Elisabeth. Someone who brings such depth, gentleness and insight to what she does. As I said at the beginning, many of you already know and love Elisabeth well and I imagine could add so much to this piece. I have plenty of interesting outtakes, but for the sake of keeping things to a reasonable length, they did not make the cut! However, I hope this conversation has offered just a little more insight into the real Elisabeth. The musician. The motivator. The much admired Musical Director of our Saints Singers.