I’ve quickly realized since beginning this blog that most of what goes into it isn’t the writing, but rather the research behind the writing that takes all the time. That being said, I’ve discovered many wonderful and interesting voices out there, all having their own interesting angles and perceptions about arts culture, where it is, and where it is going.
Most recently I came across Alex Ross, music critic of the The New Yorker. After a general perusing of his site, I can now understand why fellow arts blogger and opera enthusiast, Olivia Giovetti, candidly lists Mr. Ross on her blog under a list of links titled “Obsessions”. His knowledge of music history is simply uncanny. He is a wealth of knowledge and musical insight that someone like me can only hope to have one day…. I digress.
A post on his blog that caught my attention dealt with the history of applauding at classical concerts. Namely, the act of applauding during performances and in between movements. This is an action I have wavered on both for and against, but have yet to settle upon a solid position either way.
As history attests, the currently acceptable etiquette of only clapping at the very end of a full concert is one that is historically quite a new custom. One of the more interesting theories as to why we moved from clapping to not clapping posits that the change symbolizes a shift of classical music moving from a “middlebrow” “music-for-the-masses” mentality, to a more “highbrow” or “elite” mentality. Apparently clapping is uncouth. For a full and well detailed synopsis of the subject matter I suggest you read the post for yourself.
Personally, I don’t find clapping necessarily distracting, but more so the constant little unnecessary noises of crumpling paper or the always dreaded crinkling of cellophane candy wrappers. Seriously, does it really take 45 seconds to unwrap a cough drop? However, the act of clapping in principal is not offensive to me. I think it is something that shouldn’t necessarily fit into a format. You come on stage: we clap. You play your piece (all however many movements, and only when we are absolutely sure you are finished): we clap.
robotic applause
This kind of regimented ritual only adds to the stuffiness and elite qualities that are too often attributed to classical music. I think if the momentum, energy and emotion of a piece compel you to clap, then you should clap. Often times I feel clapping is an almost “forced” action. It is as if the audience feels they MUST clap, and so does so with feigned enthusiasm.
Opera viewing etiquette is somewhat different. As opera is a theatrical expression of emotions, story and music, it is often the case that clapping occurs throughout the performance and at different points depending on the quality of the performance. This would seem a more realistic expression of appreciation and enjoyment. I recently viewed a Metropolitan Opera production of Donizetti’s “La Fille du Regiment” in which both Natalie Dessay and Juan Diego Florez both received applause throughout their
performances. This wasn’t distracting for me as a viewer. Granted, I wasn’t actually there, but I felt the applauding only added to theatrical experience. Almost like studies that show how viewers found comedic sitcoms more funny if they heard others laughing at the jokes, thus the inclusion of laugh tracks.
Alex Ross ends his post with an insightful quote from the author Christopher Small’s book Musicking. Small says:
The silence that will greet tonight’s performance while it is in progress suggests a different attitude [from the audience behavior of past eras]. Those who wish perfect communion with the composer through the performance can have it, uninterrupted by any noise that may signal the presence of other spectators. On the other hand, while our attention is without doubt active, it is detached; we no longer feel ourselves to be part of the performance but listen to it as it were from the outside. Any noise we might make would not be an element of the performance, as were the sighs and murmurs of the Parisian audience, but an interruption or distraction. I have even known the minute clinks and jingles of a female listener’s Charm bracelet to put its wearer’s neighbor in a rage. Who we are, then, is spectators rather than participants, and our silence during the performance is a sign of this condition, that we have nothing to contribute but our attention to the spectacle that has been arranged for us. We might go further and say that we are spectators at a spectacle that is not ours, that our relationship with those who are responsible for the production of the spectacle—the composer, the orchestra, the conductor, and those who make the arrangements for tonight’s concert—is that of consumers to producers, and our only power is that of consumers in general, to buy or not to buy.
Clearly, am I just as guilty of Small’s criticism as noted earlier in this post where I complain about the “crinkling of cellophane wrappers.”
This sentiment expressed by Small is both uplifting and depressing for me. Uplifting because it pointedly expresses a sentiment I have held for some time, but have not found the eloquence to express. Depressing, because it exposes a cultural mentality towards orchestral music that is counterproductive and anti-progressive. It shows that we culturally treat this kind of art as holier than Thou entertainment, not to be disturbed or disrupted without following the proper protocols. This is an attitude that I realize, as well as many of my fellow arts bloggers do, is part of our cultural heritage in desperate need of critical discourse and new valuation.
[...] Hayhurst, in his blog “Artistic Discourse” tackled this subject today in his posting “Please hold your applause…until you feel compelled to do so.” His posting includes several other links to sites where you can find useful information. Enjoy! [...]
[...] Hayhurst, in his blog “Artistic Discourse” tackled this subject today in his posting “Please hold your applause…until you feel compelled to do so.” His posting includes several other links to sites where you can find useful information. [...]
Good points raised here. I find myself frustrated in performances (even opera!) when I can’t express the joy or sadness derived from the experience. Even during MetHD broadcasts I have found myself holding my breath as a singer completes a particularly difficult passage. Most recently, during the broadcast of Madama Butterfly I felt tears welling up and a sigh coming out as Patricia Racette broke my heart. I’m sure someone around me was annoyed.
Whether it’s a live performance or broadcast into a “live” audience, why can’t we express these emotions? In speaking with performers (singers, actors, musicians), most have told me they WANT to feel that response. A great source of energy comes from this, and the performance enhanced by this interaction between performers and audience members.
I agree. Its interesting you mention that when you speak with performers, most enjoy getting responses from the audience. During the intermission of La Fille, Natalie Dessay was asked in an interview if she likes to hear the laughter from the audience, and she said that was one of the best parts about this opera. The fact that the audience is responsive. Granted, it is a comedic opera, so laughing is far more acceptable.
I believe it really is simply a matter of where our culture is, and what is acceptable behavior and what is not. Hooting and hollering would have been the behavioral norm in 18th century Italian opera houses, and in some cases at La Scala it still is, but it doesn’t fit behavioral expectations here in the states.
You may remember recently the Zimmerman production of La Sonnambula that was booed at the Met earlier this year. There was such controversy over the fact that people booed. Terry Teachout, on his blog “About Last Night”, discussed this event, and whether or not booing is more a sign of an audience that is truly involved as opposed to one that isn’t.
I have mixed feelings about applause between movements. After the first movement of the Brahms 2nd Piano Concerto in San Diego (2/27/09), the audience burst into applause and a man in the front row praised the soloist, Yefim Bronfman — who responded with a brief drollery. Yes, it disrupted the performance, but Bronfman obviously was unperturbed. My only regret was the exclusion of this exchange from the InstantEncore download. Contrast this episode with what so often happens in the “break” before the end of the “mad scene” in the opera “Lucia.” I don’t mind the premature applause then but could cheerfully strangle the self-righteous know-it-alls who respond loudly with “No! No! No!” That definitely is disruptive.
Thanks for your comments Diane. I find interruptions of the sorts you describe above with the Brahm’s concerto refreshing. As long as the musician is not disturbed by it, I feel it brings an air of intimacy into the performance hall. These performers are not emotionless robots. They love the praise and appreciate those who find their work meaningful.
As far as the mad scene moment in “Lucia”, I think that is one of those moments that it has become standard practice to applaud. Anyone shouting “No! No!” in an attempt to squelch the applause are just fighting against the populace current of appreciation, and I agree are more distracting than the applause could ever be.
I wonder how often people clap because they think the music is over, or if they think they’re supposed to clap in between movements — or that it’s okay to clap in between movements.
Pianist Emanuel Ax says PLEASE CLAP in between movements, and agrees with many of the reasons you mention as well as those by Alex Ross. http://3.ly/VG9
Recently, violinist Hilary Hahn offered her performer’s perspective on twittering during a performance — she made a good case for, “thanks, but please don’t.” (See Amanda Ameer’s recent Blog)
When the Academy of Ancient Music played the Brandenburg Concerto No. 5 last season at George Mason, the hall literally exploded with applause….right after Richard Egarr finished the keyboard cadenza in the 1st movement.
The movement wasn’t over.
The performers onstage played out the rest of the movement with stunned, amused and appreciative faces. And it all felt right to some of us in the audience.
Contrary to Mr. Small’s point, I think if you’re in deep communion with the music you’re hearing, you are a part of the performance and the experience. For that same reason, not applauding does not make all non-applauders elite or elitist.
The other X factor is the conductor — When Valerie Gergiev conducted the LSO at the Kennedy Center a few months ago, he pretty much segued immediately from movement to movement during several works on the program. Likewise, when Charles Dutoit conducted the Philadelphia Orchestra last month. So, on both concerts, some of the openings of several movements were mixed with audience applause.
This debate is destined to continue for many seasons to come. I wonder if more important matters demand further attention and discussion. I doubt clapping is at the heart of whether the Concert Halls will be full or half-full in the future. Nor do I believe relaxing the clapping protocol will bring in new audiences. (And by the way, I understand that “Singles Night” at the Symphony events don’t work either….)
For now, I’m glad there are performers and performances worth clapping about.
Let’s clap and not clap as we see fit — or as we are so inspired. But, maybe we can all agree to hold off until the music or movement actually ends — wait that extra beat to let it all sink in.
Now, what about those automatic standing ovations?
Thank you, David, for the reply. You raise a lot of interesting points. I hope I address them all.
First let me commend you on the link you provided to Emmanuel Ax’s commentary about clapping. I think that Virtuoso Voices is a wonderful idea and will certainly enhance the radio listening experience for classical music. Personally, I know I enjoy a piece more when I know a little about the performer and/or the piece being played. Kudos!
I agree that not applauding does not necessarily make one an elitist listener. In fact, my most recent post talks about how I feel applauding is lauded out too generously, i.e., the standing ovations at every concert.
I especially like your point about the conductor being able to control applause through his/her style. Everyone is watching the conductor, so if he exhibits body language that says “I’m finished”, then it’s no wonder the unknowledgeable listener might clap. I think if the conductor really is concerned about people not clapping as to not disturb the mood of the piece, then he/she should convey that through his body language, i.e., not lowering the baton or his arms.
You’re right though, in the end, whether or not people feel they can clap willy nilly or not is not necessarily going to bring more people to concerts.
Regarding standing ovations, I sort of touch on that issue in my most recent post about booing.