The complete idiot's guide to classical music (7 page)

Not all concert halls are created equal, and auditoriums have varying acoustical properties. When musicians enter a new hall, they’ll often clap their hands to test the reverberation rate, since that will affect the sonic quality of their performance, and perhaps even cause them to adjust the pace at which a piece will be played. If there’s a great deal of echo, for instance, as in a cathedral, slower tempos can avoid a jumbling of the sound. Many new halls are designed with moveable panels so that the acoustics can be adjusted (up to a point) to reflect the size and type of the performing ensemble or the music being played.

Concert halls are also free from some of the distractions of home listening; you’re not likely to be bothered by a package delivery at the front door or your mother-in-law calling on the phone. You can forget the report that’s half done on your laptop, the bills that need to be paid, and the filing that’s six months overdue. All you need do is sit comfortably in your seat and enjoy the music. There, in the concert hall, is where you’ll find the highest fi of all; plus you get to see as well as hear the performers, and enjoy a communal experience with other concertgoers. Standing ovations are really no fun when you’re alone in your living room.

 

• Classical music provides pleasing background music.
  
 

• For best enjoyment, you must pay attention to classical music.
  
 

• Shopping for the right stereo equipment can be expensive, but it’s well worth it if you want to truly hear the music.
  

Chapter 4
 
What Is Concert Hall Etiquette?

 

• How to dress at a performance
  
 

• Respecting thy neighbor
  
 

• When to clap
  

Yes, it’s a bit more formal than going to hear a rock group or cheer on your favorite baseball team, but don’t let that spoil the high enjoyment of attending a classical concert. If you think concert hall decorum means observing a stiff, rigid code of behavior, you’ve been talking to the wrong people or watching too many of those films from the 1930s where the whole audience at a symphonic concert was invariably in full dress. No one will be judging the way you act—unless, of course, you act in a way that keeps others from enjoying the performance. In short, most rules of concert hall manners are simple observances of common courtesy.

Only in the movies does everybody at a classical concert look as if they were being presented at Windsor Castle. Even before our present era of casual Fridays, dressing to the teeth was not only unnecessary at a concert, but sometimes unwelcome, as though you were out to get more attention than the performers.

You can’t go wrong. On a practical basis, it makes sense, too. For the men, business attire means the traditional suit and tie; for the ladies, it is a dress or suit, skirt or slacks, blouse and jacket. Evening curtain times are usually 8 p.m., meaning you can leave the office and enjoy a leisurely dinner before heading for the performance. Some concerts are even scheduled at 6 or 6:30, so folks can go right from work to the music and be free for an even more leisurely dinner thereafter.

If the boss won’t frown upon your attire, it’s fine for concerts or the opera too. If you’re one of those healthy types who jogs back and forth to work, of course, don’t forget to change out of your sweat socks and running shoes. The combination of suit and athletic footgear doesn’t look trendy, or even casual—just sloppy.

Formal wear is only required when it says so on the invitation. If you’re attending a gala benefit, or are on the guest list for opening night at the Met, it’s probably time to take your designer gown out of storage and press the tuxedo. Even then, you’ll invariably find some rebels in the crowd who fall back on regular business attire, and nobody really gives a hoot. Translation: If the thought of formal wear makes you squirm, press the business suit instead. If you’re going as someone’s guest, naturally, it’s a good idea to check with your host and follow his or her dress code.

Casual attire can mean anything from a sport jacket and tailored slacks or skirt to a pair of worn jeans and a T-shirt. The question is, what’s right? If you’re comfortable with casual Fridays in the office, chances are you won’t feel out of place going to a concert dressed that way either. The keywords are neat and pressed. If your trousers have a crease, you’re probably on the right track. An informal jacket worn over an open-necked shirt, turtleneck, or even a crew-necked shirt is fine. Sweaters are okay; sweatshirts are not. An informal dress is fine for women, as are any type of tailored slacks, but leave the shorts at home.

 
Bet You Didn’t Know
Some of the best composers were also the biggest slobs. When a certain Baron de Tremont visited Beethoven, he discovered “the most disorderly place imaginable—blotches of moisture covered the ceiling, the chairs were covered with plates bearing the remains of last night’s supper, and an unemptied chamber pot stood under the piano.” Brahms wasn’t much better. They say he grew his famous beard so he wouldn’t have to wear a collar and tie, and R.H. Schauffler, in his biography of the composer, reported that “his hat would have been a windfall for a comedian playing the country cousin, there were patches and mends on the alpaca coat he always wore, and an accompanying pair of black trousers were adorned with an enormous brown patch on the seat and a black patch on the front.”

Some concerts are deliberately informal. The New York Philharmonic and many other orchestras around the country sponsor programs especially designed to meet the needs and interests of younger audiences, and here you can take the notion of casual much further. Ties and jackets are purely voluntary, and nobody will be shocked by your running shoes; just remember that the neat part still holds. If your shoes are mud-covered and the rest of you looks like something the cat dragged in, the only concert seat where you won’t feel out of place is on a blanket or lawn chair under the stars.

If you’re at a heavy metal concert, you probably won’t mind your neighbors yakking all through the music (you probably won’t be able to hear them anyway), but you still don’t want them stumbling over you when they arrive 15 minutes late. Here again, let common sense and ordinary courtesy be your guide: You and the folks next to you will both have a better time.

Your purpose in attending a concert is to enjoy a peak auditory experience. Any extraneous noise is a distraction, and making noise during a classical performance can be both annoying to your neighbor and embarrassing to you. Rock music rarely has extreme modulations of volume; classical music has them all the time. Crashing cymbals and thundering timpani may disguise a comment to your seat-mate, but if the musical storm suddenly gives way to the sunshine of a solo flute, you could well be caught in mid-sentence for the entire hall to hear.

It’s difficult, sometimes, to keep awake during a performance. You’ve enjoyed the aforementioned leisurely dinner, come in from the cold to a snuggly warm hall, and Wotan has been waving his spear around for 20 minutes. Still, make every effort to stay awake: Even if you don’t snore, and you’re not sitting close enough to upset the performers, dozing off is rude and distracts the attention of those who might otherwise feel excited by the music. Besides, your ribs may get sore from the well-aimed blows of your companion. If you paid for your ticket, snoozing is a waste of money; if you came as a guest, don’t expect to be invited ever again.

Are your eyelids getting heavy? Change your sitting position; focus more intently on the music; read the program notes (if there’s enough light to do so); and, if all else fails, concentrate on some nonmusical matter that will require your later attention. Even if you’re starting to fade because you’re really bored, just remember that others around you do not necessarily share your view. Respect their right to appreciate the music, and make a mental note next time to choose a program that’s more your cup of tonal tea.

Nothing is more annoying than the concertgoer who’s forever sneezing, sniffling, coughing, and otherwise injecting unwanted medical sounds into the musical mix. Some theaters have bins of throat drops in the lobby, but just in case, bring your own lozenges or candy to suck on. There is, though, an obvious pitfall: said lozenges have to be unwrapped. There are two ways to do this, both of them annoying beyond belief. One is to rip the thing open, with a snap, crackle, and pop more suited to your breakfast cereal; the other, adopted by people whose heart, if not brain, is in the right place, involves a painfully slow unpeeling of the wrapper. The latter method is quieter, all right, but the process always seems to take longer than
Lohengrin.

 
Important Things to Know
So what’s the best way to unwrap a lozenge? Simple. Use the dimming lights as a signal to put the first drop in your mouth. Then, either unwrap a whole bunch of lozenges and leave them accessible, or invest in a box of cough drops, keeping it unsealed in your pocket or lap, where you can quietly get them as needed. Ladies: Don’t keep them in your pocketbook. By the time you’ve located them after rummaging through your keys, combs, and other odds and ends, the concert will be half over, and you’ll probably have created a greater disturbance than the coughing.

It’s great to turn up fashionably late at a party, but never for a concert. Nothing is more irritating than to start enjoying a piece, only to have latecomers barge into your row, step on your toes, and slap your face with their coats while they trundle to their appointed seats.

Many concert halls won’t even seat you if the music has already started, and you’ll have to listen to the Overture from the back of the auditorium, usually through a closed door. Some opera houses have closed circuit televisions where they herd latecomers for the first act, but if you wanted to watch the thing on a small screen, you wouldn’t have popped for a ticket in the first place. Sometimes, if you happen upon a friendly usher, you might be allowed to slip into the back of the hall after the first notes have sounded, but you’ll still have to stand through the whole piece, clutching your program, ticket, and that silly box of cough drops.

When in doubt, listen. Not for the music this time, but for the applause of other concertgoers. Granted, it’s a chicken’s way out, but it works. Nobody will glare at you for coming in second, but jump out of your seat yelling bravo before the piece has ended, and your face will be richly endowed with the proverbial egg—if not a whole omelet. Here are a few basic guidelines:

 

• In concerts, don’t applaud between movements. It’s very tempting to clap when you hear silence after a fine performance, but the end of a section within a longer work signifies a shift of mood or pacing, not a complete stop; movements are part of a continuum, in other words, not complete starts and stops. Sometimes, especially after the first movement of a virtuoso concerto, the temptation is too great to resist, and the audience does applaud. If everybody around you is clapping, of course, feel free to add to your own vote of approval.
  
 

• Do applaud at the end of complete pieces. That’s the time to show your appreciation of the performance. If you didn’t feel it was up to snuff, don’t feel impelled to clap just because others around you are doing so; on the other hand, remember that most classical concerts are group efforts. Even if the brasses hit a few clinkers, or the clarinet cracked on the high note, a lot of other musicians were playing their hearts out, and some audible response from you is quite in order. Never boo or hiss. Booing is a way of expressing extreme dissatisfaction, but it’s also rude and often uncalled for, especially if the hisses are aimed at the work, since it’s the musicians, who did their best to present the piece, who have to bear the brunt of your displeasure.