The Truth Behind the Concert Hall

Dear readers, I cannot believe it’s been so long since my last update! Time passes so quickly here, and I have been working on this post diligently, because it addresses an issue close to my heart.

Right before I left for a trip to Prague (the Czech Republic was just as amazing as I remember from last summer) I read an interesting article on the Huffington Post. I advise you to read it, as this post is a direct response to that one. The link is here:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/richard-dare/classical-music-concerts_b_1525896.html

Read it? Good. Now let’s begin.

As some of you dear readers know, I’m a classical violinist whose life goal is to sit Principal 2nd in a professional orchestra better than the one in my hometown. I’ve been playing violin now for 16 years, and I’ve been both playing in and attending orchestra concerts for at least 10. I just examined my iPod collection of classical music, and I have over 200 albums representing this genre. I’m a music major, and orchestra has been my favorite pastime for the last nine years. Every summer (even this one, spent in Rome) away from an orchestra camp is lacking; every summer without orchestra concerts to attend is even less endurable. This is the background influencing my particularly negative reaction to this article in the Huffington Post.

However, reading the equally biased words of Richard Dare, I found myself trying to see both sides of the issue. And the reaction and struggle I found in relating to these words convinced me that this article was more than worthy of a blog post.

Honestly, although the words you are about to read seem contrary to this, I did my best to consider his point of view clearly. And while I agree that there are ways to make classical music more accessible to the greater audience, it is not smart to alienate its current audience by referring to us as elitist snobs controlling a “musical North Korea.”

As far as I am aware, there are no such elitist codes that control proper concert etiquette; etiquette for classical music concerts differs very little from proper behavior during theatrical performances or in movie theaters. Note, of course, that I specifically said proper behavior. I do not find it elitist to expect the common courtesy of silence during plays and movies, particularly because very often, the sounds of talking or cell phones texting is very disruptive and detracts from my general enjoyment of the event. I do not pay money to hear other people’s conversations, and I do not understand why this common courtesy routinely expected at theaters is suddenly considered elitist when applied to classical concert attendees.

But there’s a difference between the dampening utilitarian silence implied by Mr. Dare and the general atmosphere of every classical concert I have ever attended. He suggests the idea of total silence, which, if broken, is harshly stilled by shushing from “stony-faced listeners.” I rarely hear shushing at classical concerts; I hear it much more often at movie theaters, which Mr. Dare believes concerts would strive to imitate. When I do hear shushing at concerts, it is never in response to gasps during emotional or intense musical moments, but rather to talkative audience members focused on unrelated things. Even if many audience members wish to silence other members, they usually do not, as that is considered rude and just as disruptive as the initial disturbances.

More often, the sounds disrupting concert halls are vibrating phones or patrons coughing as if they are dying of tuberculosis. (I have been guilty of the latter more than once; I now carry cough drops in my purse every time I attend a concert, so that my fellow concert attendees do not have their aural experience interrupted.) The vibrating phones, of course, are simply disrespectful to the performers and the fellow audience members. I’m sure Mr. Dare would agree.

As for the stony-faced listeners, I do come across those on occasion, but for people who attend the concerts who truly enjoy classical music, we do not sit in silent seriousness. We are enraptured, avidly watching the musicians on the stage, the soloist, the conductor’s movements. Our faces are usually filled with visible emotion. We move with the music - not obnoxiously or ostentatiously, but slightly and intimately, actively experiencing the live performances through connecting with the music. The stony-faced listeners are unattached to the music, perhaps attending the concerts because they feel they should, not because they truly desire to attend.

This probably stems from the reasons people attend concerts. I know few audience members who feel enslaved by the etiquette expected, because they attend for one of two reasons. Either they are there to support someone onstage (and I thank all my classical-hating friends who have attended concerts solely on my request), or they are there because they enjoy music. When you enjoy a particular activity, such as classical music or - going back to the movie comparison - films, you participate in such behaviors as is typical for the event. In movies, this means watching in darkness and mostly silence, although occasional laughing or exclaiming can be utilized in appropriate situations. In classical music concerts, this means sitting in engaged silence, letting the music wash over you and allowing your ears to hear minor details uninterrupted. In the end, you clap in approval (or not, if you do not feel like the performers deserve the applause) as one would at the finale of a play. Occasionally, laughter is appropriate or even expected - Mozart’s Musical Joke, for example, is uproariously amusing. I one attended a performance of it at a musical summer camp, and the entire audience was in stitches. And I have also witnessed weeping at particularly moving pieces - Barber’s Adagio for Strings, for instance. Listening to classical music is not a silent, dead activity; it is an engaging and active experience. After all, music is unlike any other art form; it does not exist without an audience (even if the audience is merely the performers). It cannot exist without active participation from both players and listeners, unlike the art displayed in galleries or the words written on a page.

Mr. Dare makes an accurate point in discussing how behavior in concert halls in the 17th century greatly differ from behavior in concert halls now. However, it is important to note that as classical music evolved from an art form appealing to the masses to an art form enjoyed by a different type of audience, the performance and audience expectations changed. Leading this interpretation of audience/performer behavior was Clara Schumann, who was a gifted pianist who toured Europe and set the current soloist performance expectations. She treated concerts as deeply immersing serious occasions, where she would perform in all black to a silent crowd. She did this not because she felt the music should not be enjoyed, but instead draw attention away from the performer onto the music itself. While not everyone of her era felt the same way about performances, particularly the famous virtuoso Franz Liszt, her influence endured the test of time and set the stage for current performance practice.

Her reasoning for serious concerts applies quite well to the modern setting. We tend to forget the power of individual pieces of music and remember the virtuosos who perform and conduct. While (as a musician myself) I find little issue with recognizing the current talents, it is equally important to respect the music and its composer as well. It is difficult to respect the beauty and nuances of an aural work of art without concentrated silence throughout a concert hall. The “musical North Korea” that Mr. Dare attempts to describe is a twisted interpretation of nothing more than a reverential setting of respect. These composers we revere through our continuous performances are the Gods of our past, and it is not wrong to show them respect in our concert halls, respect that is conveyed through applause, occasional laughter and tears, and reverential concentration.

I am concerned with the idea that classical concerts, therefore, should be similar to hip-hop or rock concerts. The nuances in classical music are too fragile to be translated through deafening amplification. And if we are allowed to carry on conversations, check our e-mail and phone messages, constantly enter and exit with piles of popcorn and candy, we will miss the subtle uses of silence that are as crucial to this art form as the use of sound. The world of classical music will be transformed into a raucous spectacle far distanced from the respect that is owed to these beautiful and majestic works. And as a musician myself, I do not desire to become a victim of spectacle for my livelihood. If I wanted to be a rock musician, I would have been a rock musician. But I want to play Mahler, and Dvorak, and Tchaikovsky, and these giants have no place in the loud environment of a rock-style concert hall.

Do I think more can be done to present classical music to a wider audience? Absolutely. But the key to this does not lie in transforming the very nature of this music into a warped version of the current preferred style. The key instead is to educate the masses of the value of the music as it is. This can be done through the use of children’s education concerts, which I have found to be immensely effective in my experiences with them. The other way of this classical education is through the use of interesting, detailed program notes or presentations before concerts. Composers are at heart artists, and of course creative artists have some of the most intriguing, interesting, and peculiar life histories of all. This past two years in my music history classes, I have learned about composers who murdered their adulterous wives, composers who went as mad as Van Gogh in the pursuit of their art, and composers who helped start political revolutions. Their life stories are fascinating, and these stories translate into their music. In addition, there is a story behind every piece of music, either built into the music itself or wrapped into the history of the composer. Knowing these interesting facts behind the music, I’ve realized, instills a type of avid enjoyment of the music itself. And this interest translates to all listeners, no matter how versed in the art of classical music. These things are the key to successfully incorporating music into the modern era, because even in this age of instant communication and popularity of rock styles, stories remain the way to entertain the masses. Amplification and behavior rude to fellow audience members and performers, however, are not the solution, and implying that they would enhance the enjoyment of classical concerts is simply a very incorrect misconception.

Until next time,

Julia

P.S.

Since his original article came out, Richard Dare has written another article in response to the uproar it created, which is well written and can be found at this link:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/richard-dare/classical-music-concert-attendance-_b_1575445.html

While I do not agree that his initial post was as mild and non-antagonistic as he states in this follow-up, considering some of the things he outright declared about how the masses should be allowed to behave during concerts (since you just read the articles, you can judge his words for yourself) I highly respect that he wrote this follow-up to the post that presents a clearer, less antagonizing opinion on the issue.