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Novelty trumps quality when it comes to keeping today's big city audience interested

By John Terauds on January 23, 2013

(Pablo Helguera cartoon)
(Pablo Helguera cartoon)

On Monday morning, an older relative mused that there are no exciting opera singers these days. Later that day I heard about a Toronto couple that only goes to the symphony in New York City because it’s “too boring” in Toronto.

Yesterday, I listened to Vol. 2 of Steven Staryk: A Restrospective, a compilation of violin hits from small U.S. reissue label Centaur. Toronto-born Staryk, who is alive and well, was considered one of the masters of the instrument in his professional heyday. His playing, recorded between 1959 and 2003, on the assortment of largely encore-style pieces is good but not amazing.

Then I slipped James Ehnes’s latest, an all-Bartók CD with pianist Andrew Armstrong, into the audio system. From the opening notes, the album turned into a succession of Wow! moments.

After dinner, to close the door on the day’s cabinet of musical wonders, was Marc-André Hamelin’s oh-so-perfect piano recital.

Hamelin, like Ehnes, is not an exciting performer in the showbusiness sense. Both artists physically get out of the way of their music, turning their bodies into conduits for art that appears at the tips of their fingers and along the hairy side of the bow.

Both artists have a technique so broad and deep that they play with the seeming ease and naturalness of a child building a sandcastle on a beach.

Both artists finesse every note and phrase as a thing itself and also as part of a larger musical statement.

Both also tend to sell out their recitals, which are to be anticipated and savoured. But, even in a city like Toronto, neither man is likely to sell more than 1,000 tickets for a solo appearance.

To keep things purely local, I can think of a considerable list of Toronto singers, choirs, pianists, violinists, cellists and chamber ensembles with a similar work ethic and fine artistry.

In the hands of the right conductor, the Toronto Symphony Orchestra is phenomenal. And, no, I’m not just writing that because I’m trying to be a proud local.

What I’m trying to say is, similarly to the way I closed my Star review of Hamelin’s performance last night: the golden age of classical music is right now, in terms of what today’s performers can do.

Yes, there are dull concerts and mediocre performances. But the overall professional standard is amazingly high.

So what’s with the boredom and apathy?

I suspect that the classical music world here is in denial about the state of our wider culture.

The single most important factor is the fractured audience. Just as we can choose from 47 different face moisturizers at Shoppers Drug Mart, there are 92 different musical genres (give or take a dozen) appealing for my attention at any given moment. The 20th century notion of a mass culture is finished; we have become a collection of tribes of the like-minded, be it in terms of musical or political tastes.

People buy clothes for a season, not the next five years. Made in low-wage countries, the garments are stylish and cheap. Our closets get ever bigger, so we can keep favourite pieces around just in case we feel like wearing those skinny tangerine chinos again. We know we don’t need to wear the same piece of clothing twice the same week.

Our iPhones are our walk-in-closets of music, with artists and genres arranged much the same way as our shoes, with something for every mood and occasion.

We are awash in the trappings of novelty and choice, yet present a symphony concert format that hasn’t changed since Arthur Meighen was Prime Minister.

Although I frequently complain about directorial excesses in adventurous opera productions, I totally see why these new perspectives are necessary. Historical purity sits uncomfortably next to pan-cultural diversity.

The world is our buffet in Toronto. And if pure ethnic tastes aren’t right for tonight’s mood, I can go try the bacon-and-cheese ramen with peanut-chipotle chicken at the new joint around the corner.

The owner of my favourite Chinese restaurant was telling me the other evening how they are struggling with their menu. It features old-style Canadian-Chinese items like sweet and sour chicken balls alongside my favourite crispy, spicy chicken, which arrives bedecked in glistening tiny red chilies.

“Do you know anyone who eats egg rolls?” she asked with a wry smile.

The restaurant has just enough older customers who order the old-school food that they risk not coming back if the menu changes. The younger customers ignore the items that aren’t of interest. The restaurant bears the burden of catering to both tastes.

And here we are, back at the typical classical concert.

The big, old, institutional presenters with the $20 million budgets raise the bulk of their funds from the older crowd, so they feel compelled to keep serving egg rolls and sticky sweet-and-sour spareribs and neon-yellow sauced pineapple chicken. They can’t risk alienating their steadiest patrons.

But what about the younger customer, looking for something new, who wants to mix things up a little bit? It’s not like the cosmopolitan 30-year-old is suddenly going to suddenly find the Overture-Concerto-Symphony format appealing as she is blowing out the candles on her 50th birthday cake.

Discount tickets are not the solution, but they are an incentive. Unfortunately, great artistry, that stuff that is so abundant in this city, is also not enough in and of itself.

Those concert presenters who want to thrive need to bear the burden of catering to those changing tastes — with no assurance that what they try will succeed. But they definitely won’t succeed without trying.

The 21st century closet and iPhone make for pretty tough competition.

John Terauds

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