'There is one sure rule for those uncertain about when to clap. Wait until several other people have started clapping. Either they know when it is appropriate, or your gaffe will be hidden by those who started earlier.' The comment comes from DavidHH in response to an article by Alex Ross in Tuesday's Guardian about whether applause should be encouraged between movements of a classical concert. I'm sure that DavidHH's advice is well-intentioned but to me it smacks of the we-know-better-than-you, please-don't-ruin-it-for-us elitism which sadly pervades classical concert-going. If classical concerts are struggling to attract new attendees then just maybe we should start blaming the existing audiences. Ouch.
Alex Ross is best known for his acclaimed tome on music of the last hundred years, The Rest is Noise: Listening in the Twentieth Century. A music critic for (formerly) the New York Times and now The New Yorker (he also blogs here), he believes that the existing Curb-Your-Enthusiasm protocol of listening to classical music is far removed from the experience two hundred years ago.
The classical concert of the 18th century was radically different from the rather staid and timid affair of today. Famous evidence comes from a letter that Mozart wrote to his father after the premiere of his 'Paris' Symphony:
Right in the middle of the First Allegro came a Passage that I knew would please, and the entire audience was sent into raptures . . . and as I knew, when I wrote the passage, what good effect it would make, I brought it once more at the end of the movement — and sure enough there they were: the shouts of 'da capo'.
This kind of behaviour seems in line with what you find in jazz clubs, where people applaud after each solo, as well as at the end of each number.
Ross traces the transformation of audience behaviour through to the twenty-first century. It's a measured, well constructed lament. And if you'll forgive one further long quotation...
I wouldn't want applause between movements of, say, Messiaen's Quartet for the End of Time. Elsewhere, though, it has a perverse effect. Emanuel Ax, not a showboating pianist, complains on his website:
I am always a little taken aback when I hear the first movement of a concerto which is supposed to be full of excitement, passion, and virtuoso display (like the Brahms or Beethoven Concertos), and then hear a rustling of clothing, punctuated by a few coughs; the sheer force of the music calls for a wild audience reaction.
It is the sound of people suppressing their instincts.
Ross's article is drawn from his Monday lecture sponsored by The Royal Philharmonic Society (you can download the full text here) -- an event at the Wigmore Hall to which I was lucky enough to secure a ticket. In person, he's a modest and fairly restrained presence and I should own up to feeling disappointed that there wasn't a greater call-to-arms or perhaps a clearer vision of the future. I wasn't after a prescriptive template of future concerts but I did want to know whether a few rebels should be encouraged to start some between-the-movements clapping.
During the Q&A session, I became frustrated that Ross seemed to be charmed by the extreme coterie of the audience and while he offered New York's informal Le Poisson Rouge as a reference, he appeared reluctant to throw out many more suggestions. I also wonder whether anybody else was a little shocked at the cultural precision of those attending -- I like to think that a profiled debate on the future of theatre, television or the visual arts would attract a sparkier, spikier, more diverse audience.
Classical music has been remarkably successful at refuting rumours of its imminent demise -- and no doubt it will continue to do so for many more centuries. But can we please give classical concerts a bit more of a poke, and a little more experimentation. What about, perish the thought, some staging and lighting? Maybe I'll share some further views with the next person who tells me to shhh... during a concert.
• For more debate about Alex Ross' lecture se Tom Service's Guardian blog post; Damian Thompson blogging for the Telegraph Media Group and Charlotte Gardener reporting for Gramophone.
Image courtesy of the LIFE Archive hosted by Google. It's © TIME Inc. but we know nothing more about it. Who's the violinist and on what occasion did photojournalist Gjon Mili take this striking shot?