“Welcome! We’re so glad you could join us this evening.”
Normally this much enthusiasm from a concert hall ticket collector would have hit me as false, but seeing as we had all trekked through several feet of snow to attend this Baltimore Symphony Orchestra concert, I (on behalf of my frozen ears) was also a little more excited than usual to now be inside the hall. It was a good feeling to share that with someone else as I defrosted.
Maybe it also hit me so strongly because earlier in the day I had read Proper Discord’s analysis of the Philadelphia Orchestra’s recent marketing snafu. The post ends with this kill shot: “[T]he problem isn’t that people have never been to the symphony. The problem is that they have been to the symphony, and they didn’t have a good enough time.” Ah, yes indeed. I thought I knew exactly what he meant, but here I was already having a good time just because a few people in the lobby had made me feel welcome and valued in some pretty basic customer service-y ways (the guy at the box office had also been notably congenial).
I don’t usually go to orchestra concerts just for my own amusement. Not that I don’t enjoy them, but when I happen to go I’m almost always there on some work-related mission. However, since this time I was holding a ticket to see my husband Brian make his debut playing with the BSO (Pictures at an Exhibition was on the program and he was called in for the saxophone solo) my attitude was admittedly a bit tweaked towards personal recreation. In good spirits after that initial greeting, I decided I would do my best to shed everything I thought I knew about going to the symphony and see if Proper Discord’s theory held up for me on this particular night with this particular ensemble. I walked through all the lobby spaces where people were gathered for a quick drink or snack before the show. Admittedly nothing too glamorous, but everyone seemed to be enjoying their night out. During the performance, conductor Marin Alsop told a couple stories and cracked just a few well-timed jokes from the podium to keep the 4th wall from creeping up and cutting the crowd off from what the 70-some musicians were creating on stage. That’s all just the trappings, of course, but I think being open to and engaged in hearing much of the orchestral repertoire in 2010 hinges on fostering that connection between the mass of performers on stage and the audience members out in the dark of the hall. Without it, the most transcendental musical experience has an uphill fight on its hands. It doesn’t always have to be made through banter, but it needs to be made.
Potential hurdles to engagement and good-time having acknowledged, though the musicians were wearing tails, this neither added to nor detracted from my experience in any way. A wardrobe update might not be a bad move, but I see no need for an emergency trip to American Apparel to make them over. In fact, if I hadn’t heard that “too stuffy and formal” complaint about orchestras made familiar through so much industry chatter, it wouldn’t necessarily have crossed my mind. And when they turned and smiled, giving a nod to the crowd as they received the applause, they swiftly skirted another common point of criticism. And that one is non-negotiable with me. If your presence as a patron at a live concert event is never acknowledged by anyone, not even by the
musicians you are listening to and applauding for, it’s kind of creepy
and you have to wonder why you didn’t just stay home and listen to a CD. An orchestra of unsmiling, miserable looking people leaves everyone feeling depressed. This retroactively ruins the good-time having under discussion here.
While waiting for Brian in the lobby after the show, the only thing I could think of to make the space even more comfortable and welcoming to the community (and possibly “attract new audiences” and all that jazz) was if there was a way to open it up to people more regularly beyond the big shows. A cafe with wi-fi, hosted community events, anything that created more reasons to consider going into the building itself and making it a place on more people’s regular city circuit.
So, experiment concluded, I had paid my $25 and been to the symphony and in this case I did have a good enough time–so good I’ll probably be going again, just for fun.
your idea about having a cafe is right on mark imo. make it a place people WANT to come.
CSOfan: I frequently go to orchestra concerts in Chicago and gladly pay even more than $25.00. I like it when the conductor speaks to the audience as Muti did this fall. We have pre-concert talks which are free. Those tend to make it even more enjoyable. Chicago knows how to please an audience. (At least this one).
I too recently attended the symphony. The majority of the attendees were “gray hairs” (not that there is anything wrong with that). This might cause some “youngers” to view the event as something only old people do. The conductor chatted us up a bit and this added a personal feel for me. He was letting us in.
The musicians brought forth their individual degrees of participation. I know I saw one horn player unable to stay awake. Only one smile was seen; this cello player actually looked like she was glad to be there. For the rest, it looked like just a job. Slog it out and get out of there.
Molly adds: I wonder how much orchestra audience demographics vary by region/community. Someone has probably studied this. I did notice that the BSO concert was fairly mixed. It wasn’t like we were at a Justin Bieber show, but it wasn’t intimidatingly 65 and over either.
One of the reasons that Gustavo Dudamel is so popular is that he really takes the time to acknowledge the audience applause. Disney Hall in Los Angeles has seats on all sides of the orchestra and Dudamel always takes the time to join with the other musicians in turning to all four sides at some point in the applause. Plus, he smiles broadly both when he is conducting and at the end. Attending his concerts is both exciting and fun.
“… though the musicians were wearing tails, this neither added to nor detracted from my experience in any way.”
I dislike the anonymity of the penguin suits, but the formality is not so bad to me as well. Honestly, I’m from pretty working-class roots, and the excuse to “dress up” is a nice thing to have on occasion. It’s usually the monied types who seem to think that their jeans and flip-flops are appropriate attire for any damn thing. 🙂
But I could stand to lose the anonymity of the tails and gowns. I don’t like that they make all the musicians look the same and hence hard to connect with as people. I want to get a sense of who’s playing. It’s sort of the opposite of the “we want to hear Beethoven, not YOU” ethic that’s infused a lot of classical music for the last hundred years.