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The Carducci Quartet made a welcome return to Shrewsbury on Friday with a thrilling programme of musical and intellectual power. But not just this. Operatic Mozart, searing minimalism of Glass and a scintillating rendition of one of Shostakovich’s war quartets gave this fantastic foursome much to revel in – and the packed-out Maidment auditorium much to enjoy.

With the first stirrings of spring in the air this weekend [22nd February], Acoustic Triangle arrived bang on time to inject foot-tapping grooves into the step of Shrewsbury’s bewintered jazz hounds. These three pillars of the jazz world chose to play the Maidment auditorium as their only live gig of their 25th anniversary year, and, with a set of truly molten musicianship which singed away the cobwebs with the marvellous power of an acetylene blowtorch, you can understand why they may need to conserve the energy.

Rare are the occasions that an artist meets their art in the crucible of audience so completely that the performance transcends the here-and-now and so inhabits a world of ideas unassailably unique – impossible otherwise to imagine, fundamentally indescribable (I’ll try), and, although we would dearly wish the contrary, never to be repeated.

But such was created by Polina Osetinskaya. The Russian pianist powerfully demonstrated why she is hailed as one of the most exciting on the international circuit and here she was, a vision of sparkling poise, and weaving an unbreakable spell for two hours over the packed St Chad’s audience on a drizzling Friday night in Shrewsbury. Bravo, and double hats off to John Moore and The Shropshire Music Trust for enticing her to SY1.

Christmas is so much better enjoyed in the anticipation than the reality, I’ve always thought, and that feeling was especially true last Thursday (4 December 2025). Because this year’s visit of the heavenly choir that is Ex Cathedra served as a multi-sensory, immersive experience of Christmas somehow unwrapping itself in glorious slow motion amid the flickering of candles and the steady light of spiritual and choral perfection. In two, clock-stopping hours, here was a generous helping of medieval, contemporary and classic carolling and unexpected poetry that could dose me up with enough pure festive spirit, not to say wonder and joy, to survive the next weeks of commercialist frenzy, shrinkflated tubs of chocolate, and collective delirium with (sleigh) bells on.