THE BBC MUSIC MAGAZINE INTERVIEW
Tasmin Little has not retired. Despite announcing in 2019 to supporters that she would be stepping away from the concert platform – and not placing bow to string since her farewell Southbank Centre concert at the end of 2020 – the much-loved British violinist is busier than ever. Yet, she no longer owns a violin, having sent her cherished instrument to a new home following that final performance. So, no practice in the privacy of her house, nor playing with friends and family, and no practical demonstrations for students during masterclasses.
You might consider this a rather stark decision, particularly for someone whose life was intimately bound with the instrument since attending the Yehudi Menuhin School from the age of eight. But for Little, the decision makes perfect sense – and surprisingly, is one that she came to during her twenties. ‘I think the long and short of it is that I’m a communicator,’ she explains, ‘and for the majority of my life I’ve used my violin for this purpose. But I’m just as comfortable using my voice and my vocabulary. And I never said I was going to retire – I’m a long way off retirement.’
As the daughter of theatre and screen actor George Little, young Tasmin may have shown prodigious skill as a violinist, but, encouraged by her father, honing her skills as an orator and writer also formed a crucial aspect of her upbringing. Both parents were cultural enthusiasts, attending museums and galleries in addition to concerts, and ‘watching people perform’ in myriad ways ‘other than musically’ was a common family activity.
It’s unsurprising, then, that in her fifties, Little was increasingly feeling the lack of ‘other things in my life’ following decades of dedication to performing. ‘Because I’d always been interested in new works and broadening the repertoire, I’d be preparing and performing a huge number of pieces throughout the year. There were no holidays and certainly no weekends, and I felt culturally undernourished,’ she says. ‘I know that sounds peculiar, but I really had no time to go to the theatre or to see an exhibition.’
The other side of the equation was a very practical desire not to see her technical skills deteriorate as she became older. ‘I never wanted to go downhill,’ she says matter-of-factly. ‘I never wanted people to say, “She used to be good.” And although my playing was still sound as I entered my fifties, I had to ask myself, did I want to put on a ball gown to perform i
