Number 5, Via de’ Benci in Florence is one of the least known and most important addresses in the history of opera. It was here, Palazzo Bardi, the home of Count Giovanni Bardi, that opera was invented in the 1580s. The Count hosted regular meetings of the greatest thinkers and writers of the day, including the astronomer Galileo Galilei’s father, under the title accorded to them later, the Florentine Camerata.

They devised their own interpretation of how Greek tragedy was performed: in their view, mostly sung or recited on a tone, and they laid out the basic rules and structure of communicating drama through accompanied song, which quickly developed into a form recognisable to us today as opera.

Opera, of course, means both the labour of making and performing and the finished artefact of a composed musical drama.

At the same time, in another Italian city, Ferrara, other events were taking place which were also to prove fundamental to what opera became. The court there established a group of professional women singers and players, the Concerto delle Donne, who became some of the most celebrated performers of the time, throughout Italy. They were copied in other cities and courts. These women were virtuosic, well paid, and very highly regarded.

I have been intensely involved for much of my professional life in teaching and giving opportunities to younger performers – the next generation, if you like. It seems both natural and essential that all manner of scheme both during the Festival and throughout the rest of the year should be developed to nurture the stars of the future.

We will have a well-worked understudy scheme for the operas and showcase their work in masterclasses and workshops on performance days. In addition, I am keen to offer apprenticeships in the multiple crafts on which opera depends. We also want to send these young performers into prisons, adult education colleges, hospitals and hospices – indeed anyway where their well-focused energy can make a difference. I have been lucky to sing in hospices, in teenage penitentiaries in America, and, of course, in many schools. It’s always completely unpredictable, scary and not always successful. But usually something amazing happens – an instant rap, or a speech of disarming power and honesty. I always feel rhythm is the most telling way to get anybody to communicate through music. Once that has been unlocked, tunes and words and whatever else start spilling out. I feel everybody has rhythm inside of them, even if they claim to be tone-deaf. Just hear what comes naturally on football terraces. Taking a deep breath and yelling out a well-known sung taunt to the opposition team can be a truly liberating experience. Pretty operatic stuff, in fact.