Last
weekend my critic colleagues in London were much exercised by the issue of the
audience applauding between the movements of Holst's Planets at the First Night of the Proms. I can't see what the fuss was all about; Holst
never intended his Planets as a
single, continuous work - indeed, at its first performance it was not even presented
in its entirety - and there is no artistic reason why the audience should not
regard each individual piece as a stand-alone concert work, and respond accordingly.
On a wider
level, I have no issues at all with audiences applauding between movements or
at breaks in a work. I wouldn’t mind
were audiences to revert to the 19th century habit of stopping a
performance mid-way to express their admiration for a particular moment (as César
Franck famously did when sitting in the audience of a performance of his own
Symphony in D minor) or, as in opera, a particular feat from a singer.
What is the
value of applause if it is not spontaneous? The regimented and polite clapping
at a pre-ordained point some time after the end of a work seems entirely false
and without purpose. I know, however, that there are those who
disagree with me on this point, and I certainly once considered the complete
musical entity as sacrosanct. Ageing and
understanding have brought about not just increasing tolerance but a fundamental
shift in my perception of the purpose of a live concert.
Singapore
audiences have long been cowed into submissive silence by the concert police
who "sh" loudly and stare daggers in the direction of whichever poor
soul has deigned to show approval of a performance when they themselves have
not. Annoyingly, even performers have
taken it upon themselves to stifle applause and thereby shame the audience into
silence. At last night’s Singapore
Symphony Orchestra season-opener, for example, after a singularly lovely bit of
saxophone playing from Daniel Gelok in "The Old Castle" from Pictures at an Exhibition, some in the
audience (led, it must be said, by some of the orchestra themselves) broke into
spontaneous applause to register their approval at what was undoubtedly a wondrous
musical moment. Conductor Lan Shui was
having none of it, and effectively stifled their joy by launching precipitously
into the next (unrelated) section of Ravel's orchestration of the piece.
I noticed a
few in the audience shaking their heads with dismay that other audience members
had shown such ignorance as to register their approval of a lovely bit of
saxophone playing. The issue is certainly
a divisive one, and I accept that there are some who like their concerts
delivered in absolute silence while others prefer to enjoy the atmosphere of
sharing a musical treat (or otherwise) with others, even if those others do not
always behave as we would wish them to.
My
tolerance, however, is sorely tested by a growing and immensely irritating
practice prevalent in Singapore concerts not from the audience, but by concert
hall management. Auditorium stewards have
been instructed, it would seem, to stop photography by members of the audience
at any cost.
At the
slightest hint that a camera or mobile phone is being pointed in the general
direction of the stage, eagle-eyed stewards rush down the aisles, clamber over seats,
make noisy protests and generally disrupt the concert in a way no humble
photographer or applauder ever does. Those unfortunate enough to be seated near to
where a steward is stationed will know that they are continually scanning the
audience for signs of photographic intent, and often radio to their colleagues giving
the location of a potential miscreant.
I’ve given
up ever expecting to enjoy a concert at Victoria Concert Hall because of the aggressive
anti-photography campaign which takes precedence over the music. But last night at the Esplanade it was
downright embarrassing. A children's choir
was on stage and proud parents keen to preserve the moment in the family
archives, found themselves shamed and embarrassed by highly visible
remonstrations from stewards. Worse
still was the closing concert of last month’s Singapore Performers’ Festival
when, with dozens of children appearing on stage to present the fruits of their
hard-earned labours (and the results of their parents’ financial sacrifices),
cameras and phones were primed, only to be forced down again by over-zealous
stewards. A friend had one steward
actually interrupting a performance to ask him to tell someone along the row to
put their phone away.
It is certainly
hugely annoying when some selfish oaf starts clicking away during a concert;
but satisfying one's own desires with no regard for others seems to be part of
the Singaporean DNA, so we should not be surprised when it happens. And the concert hall authorities themselves positively
encourage concert-goers to leave their phones switched on during concerts. So they can hardly complain when those phones’
camera and messaging functions are employed.
What is so
wrong about taking photographs of musicians in action? After all, a concert is as much a visual as
an aural experience, and in presenting themselves on stage, musicians are
implicitly accepting that they are the centre of attraction, with all that that
entails. Flash photography can be
distracting, but does a simple non-flash photograph really need to be stamped out
by such vigorous and aggressive stewarding?
If it is that important that photographs are not taken, then it is a
simple matter to ban photo-taking equipment at the door of the hall; after all,
in Singapore (as in London) concert-goers have to go through a security
screening during which such equipment could be identified and confiscated. I’d far rather have someone taking a photo
beside me, than have a steward rushing up and down the aisle signalling frantically
to all and sundry. And I’d far rather
have someone applauding enthusiastically when I don’t than feel obliged to join
in the applause at the end when nothing on stage has warranted it.
Applause, photographs…issues
which reflect a fundamental change in what concerts are all about, and a change
which many are loathe to accept. There
was a time when we needed to listen to music in silence and without
interruption. But things have
changed. If we want silence around us
and no distraction, we have recourse to music in whatever environment we wish,
thanks to recording technologies. A live
concert is no longer the only venue for accessing music. The function of concerts has changed. Now concerts are social occasions, where we
share the experience of music with others.
As with soccer matches or cinema presentations, we have to accept that
in sharing socially, we open ourselves up to exposure to behaviours we ourselves
would not do, but to which we cannot object since there are no doubt aspects of
our own behaviour which irritate others.
Let’s stop trying
to impose our particular ethics on concert audiences, and accept that if others
are drawn into hear the music, they should be allowed to do so on their own
terms. Most of us professionals and dedicated
music lovers have the opportunity to access the music we want where we want it
and how we want it; we should not deny the pleasure to others who, perhaps, are
less well versed in the traditions of concert etiquette than us.
No comments:
Post a Comment