Several times over the past few months, I’ve read and heard talk about the death of the concert hall — the acoustically and architecturally crafted spaces that cost tens of millions of dollars to conceive and build. Could it be that the Royal Conservatory of Music built Koerner Hall in time for it to become a white elephant?
- Classical Music 101: What Does A Conductor Do? - June 17, 2019
- Classical Music 101 | What Does Period Instrument Mean? - May 6, 2019
- CLASSICAL MUSIC 101 | What Does It Mean To Be In Tune? - April 23, 2019
Those who worry about all the people intimidated by the classical concert experience nod an emphatic yes.
We need to think outside the traditional box, they say. We need to experience concerts outside, in the round, in unconventional settings — anything to distance the music we love so much and its lively art from anything staid or confining.
Those are all valid points. But throwing out the boxes our concerts come in may be a mistake.
My argument starts with a concert I attended last night.
The musicmaking was first-rate. The acoustics inside the church were generous (to a fault). There was a decent, enthusiastic audience. The presenters made a point of introducing each piece of music succinctly and entertainingly. The mood was open, informal and friendly — everything the art music world aspires to when it comes to making visitors feel welcome.
But I had a terrible time because I couldn’t see the performers.
The orchestra sat on the same flat surface as the audience. The lighting in this old church was much dimmer than average, so the orchestra area was backlit with floor lamps that shone in the audience’s face. There was an excellent violin soloist. I could sort of see the tip of her bow.
I can listen to the world’s finest musicians on my nice speakers in the slush- and salt-free comfort of my living room. But what I can’t do at home is feel a connection to the faces and glances and movements of real people on a real stage.
That’s why I brave 30-year-old streetcars and people who sneeze into my chest on the subway.
The art of the concert hall is forever evolving, but no matter what shape each one takes, the transmission of sound is only one of a number of its functions.
The architecture is there to establish a relationship between performer and audience where the visual counts for as much as the audible. This means a raised stage or a raked audience floor — or both. This means good lighting and unobstructed sightlines. It means comfortable seating as well as a spacious lobby to exchange opinions and gossip and people-watch at intermission.
I know of several wonderful musicians and concert presenters in Toronto who are actively looking at every possible option for concert venues. Their goal is simple: to provide the finest possible connection between each person in a seat with each person on stage and with the music or opera that is about to be performed.
Each one is also concerned about cost: How to minimize money spent on hall rental so that ticket prices can stay low.
Each one also wants to welcome people who are normally turned off by the thought of going to a classical concert.
Despite the size of this city and the number and variety of churches, halls, bars, lofts, theatres and large public spaces, there are very, very few venues that are ideal for art music.
So everything becomes some sort of a compromise. Is this okay, or are my standards too high?
I’d love to hear how you feel about the fascinating tightrope walk.
John Terauds
- Classical Music 101: What Does A Conductor Do? - June 17, 2019
- Classical Music 101 | What Does Period Instrument Mean? - May 6, 2019
- CLASSICAL MUSIC 101 | What Does It Mean To Be In Tune? - April 23, 2019
