If you’ve ever descended the Carnegie Hall escalators and listened to a performance of, say, Morton Feldman’s music in Zankel, you know that you need a certain amount of open-earedness. The MTA will not be stopped, and whether you can deal with (and discount) a little sound bleed from the subway running on the other side of the wall or not largely determines how much you’ll enjoy your evening.
Well, fair music fans, the danger is about to get worse than a crowd of symphony subscribers in February. In all honesty, I initially though this writer was going to decry the terrible inspirational effect the construction noise around Juilliard was going to have on yet another generation of composers. In the end, however, it appears that Les is really only concerned with the decibel levels audiences will be expected to politely ignore. Wherever you stand on the issue, take comfort in the fact that we’re all just riding one huge pendulum of concert decorum. But putting aside the inter-movement consumptives for a moment, ambient concert noise: welcome sign of life in the hall or performance death knell? Is this really a danger? What’s the most ridiculous concert noise you’ve had to endure?
*Photo found on NYC subway musician Theo Eastwind’s MySpace page.
“But putting aside the inter-movement consumptives for a moment, ambient concert noise: welcome sign of life in the hall or performance death knell?”
Depends on what’s being performed. If it’s Cage or Stockhausen or stuff written by their acolytes, could be a welcome sign of life in the hall. If, however, it’s genuine music being performed, say Bach or Mozart, or, well you know the list, then it’s most decidedly a performance death knell.
“What’s the most ridiculous concert noise you’ve had to endure?”
Well, it wasn’t in a hall but at an outdoor concert at Philadelphia’s Robin Hood Dell some time ago (1960s) with the Philadelphia Orchestra with none other than Leopold Stokowski on the podium (he hadn’t conducted the orchestra for decades, and was making a surprise guest visit). Right in the middle of La Mer, if I remember correctly, a low-flying military helicopter began flying its slow way over the Dell. Stokowsky stopped the performance in mid-paragraph, waited until all was again silent, then began again — from the top. He had to do that three times during that performance.
And he was right. Helicopters and Debussy just don’t work together. Helicopters and Stockhausen, on the other hand….
ACD
Many years ago (mid-70’s) a young Emmanuel Ax was performing Chopin with the Seattle Symphony conducte by Eduardo Mata. At the quietest section of the second movement, a woman in the very front row stood up, turned to here seat mate, and screamed “I’m going to kill you, you son of a bitch!”. She then ran to the nearest (thank God!) exit, still screaming. Ax, Mata, and the SSO never missed a beat. As the orchestra’s development director, I nearly died of a heart attack!
Not a concert but the theatre. A certain theatre in my home city sits very close to an underground railway line. The first play I recall seeing there, many years ago now, was The Dresser, set in wartime England. The occasional rumbling of bombs was really quite impressive and realistic. Soon after I went back to see Private Lives and discovered the curious fact that the “rumbling of bombs” had a part to play in this elegant drama as well.
Incidentally, the conservatorium of music in this city sits over the same underground line and it’s not unknown for its concerts to receive occasional accompaniment from the heavy metal.
Three concert-hall memories…
One, the Chicago Symphony was in Carnegie Hall, and a woman dashed to her main-floor aisle seat at the last minute, with a raincoat and two shopping bags. I think it was a Bruckner symphony that started up, all quiet and all, and she spotted a closer aisle seat five rows up, and went to it, before moving to another aisle seat even closer. The plastic bags went with her, with all their crinkling noises.
The second was in Chicago, with the London Symphony backing Paul Lewis in Beethoven’s Fourth Piano Concerto. A cell phone started ringing in the quiet second movement. It was in someone’s purse down the row from me, and the woman and her boyfriend did everything they could to avoid the stares and beseeching looks to reach down and turn it off. They ignored it. Then the person called back.
The third was in Avery Fisher Hall in 2000, and the Philharmonic was playing The Unanswered Question.Five cell phones went off in the course of it. That was pretty appalling.
I guess most ambient noise doesn’t bother me, but senseless noise from other audience members (talking during a performance is just plain stupid) drives me nuts.
For a long time I kept a note in my suitcoat pocket that said, PLEASE BE QUIET! which I would show to rude audience members – Philadelphia seems to be the worst in my travels in concert halls.
When I asked a lady at intermission at Merkin to please chew her gum quietly, it was bothering me during Maria Bachmann’s recital, she got mad at me…I asked politely really!