#applause sowhat sfcm

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The Audience Applauded. So What?

by Evan Pengra Sult

The relationship between musicians and their audience is central to any performance; in fact, without someone watching, it’s not a performance. But like so many long-term relationships, the one between classical musicians and their patrons has grown stale. We go through the motions, but the passion flares only occasionally. Consider the last symphony or opera you attended – I bet I know what happened. You went, sat politely through each movement, and clapped when it was over. Perhaps you stood, if everyone else did.

Does it feel discouraging to have an artistic experience summed up thusly? It was for me when I reflected on how many performances I’ve attended that have followed this model. But not all of them; one of the concerts I remember most vividly was a performance of Beethoven’s 9th during which one audience member was so thrilled by the 2nd movement that he burst into spontaneous applause upon its completion. His excitement, which he couldn’t contain until the end of the symphony, spread through the hall, bringing smiles to many (including those onstage).

I wish this sort of moment were more common; after all, there isn’t any special artistic meaning in the silences between movements. When the conductor’s baton is down, the orchestra members shuffle around, turning pages and setting mutes. That space might as well be filled with appreciative noises – indeed the act of letting them out could allow audiences to focus more closely on each movement. It’s true that there are multi-movement works meant to be heard uninterrupted, and that’s fine. It shouldn’t be hard to communicate that fact either visually (the conductor doesn’t lower the baton) or in the program notes. In fact, I’ve attended a number of recitals in which performers requested silence following certain works to better encourage reflection.

This makes sense - reflection of some kind is often the point of an artistic experience. But where in our current system is there a place to do so? The more daring programs are those which take the risk of ending a concert quietly; daring because audiences tend not to respond with the applause they provide for more bombastic finales. For performers, this can be disappointing. It’s hardly surprising given the entrenched etiquette that they should judge a performance’s success based solely on the decibel level of its reception. But the reverse is problematic, too. This was brought to my attention by the Chicago Symphony’s recent performance in Berkeley: they offered as an encore Schubert’s sublime entr’acte from “Rosamunde,” a work of understated (read: quiet) beauty. The standing ovation which followed may have been flattering, but it completely killed the mood.

This is all dancing around an even bigger issue: whether to applaud at all. I distinctly remember the first time I chose not to applaud; the performance had done nothing for me, and I decided my opinion, my silence, was as valid as the opinions of my fellow patrons. It was empowering, and I’ve never looked back. If I don’t care for a performance, I’ll offer brief polite applause to acknowledge the efforts of the performers, but that’s all. I certainly no longer stand if I’m not moved to. I’ve gone to the other extreme, too – I’m not afraid to shout “brava” for a soprano I love, even if I’m the only one, and I’ll happily lead ovations for performances I’ve found extraordinary. It feels great to be actively involved in the interaction between performer and viewer.

Art is meant to live and breathe, especially so with the performance-based forms, transitory by nature. But classical music performance has been ossified over time, frozen by dictums about the proper relationship between the performers and their audience. Is it wrong to want to inject a little spontaneity into the proceedings? Imagine, if you will, attending a performance where you clapped after every movement which roused you, and offered respectful silence after those which seemed to demand it. Imagine saving your loudest applause for the performances which really touched you, and offering only a tepid response for those which were boring or unpleasant. Imagine if your response, your choice whether to bring your hands together, actually made a difference.