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Classical music concert offenders, be warned, we’re on to you

By Michael Vincent on June 22, 2014

franco sleeping

 

[pl_blockquote cite=”Shel Silverstein, Where the Sidewalk Ends”]
“I’m making a list
I’m making a list of things I must say
For politeness,
And goodness and kindness and gentleness
Sweetness and rightness:
Hello
Pardon me
How are you?
Excuse me
Bless you
May I?
Thank you
Goodbye
If you know some that I’ve forgot,
Please stick them in your eye!”
[/pl_blockquote]

Since taking over the reins of Musical Toronto, I have been thrust into the seats of more concerts than I can count. For each show, I’ll venture out of my century-house with a feeling of good fortune over being bestowed the best seats in the city to witness (mostly) remarkable performers shovel their talents. But I have a secret to confess. It’s not only the performers that I think and write about; it’s the patrons too.

It’s a habit, if you can call it that, of buzzing home after a show to report to my wife all various social minutiae witnessed from my vantage. I’ll open the front door with a dramatic thrust, and there she’ll be, my eternal optimist partner sitting with a good book. “So,” playfully smirking, “How did it go?”

I’ll tell her about how some lady in a Chanel dress trod upon my foot while storming out of the Mahler in a dash for the ‘sortie’ sign. Peeling the sock from my foot, I’ll reveal the imprint left from her errant high-heel.

“That’s horrible,” she’ll say, “I would have swatted her with her own programme.”

It seems that being a critic was more dangerous than I thought.

Short of wearing steel-toed boots and horse blinders, I really can’t complain. After all, I know I’ve probably been someone’s blight at a concert more than once. “He kept clearing his throat, but only at the quiet parts, ruining it for everyone!”; “He kept scratching in his notebook like some jaded commissionaire writing a parking ticket, ruining it for everyone!”; “He took both arm rests, ruining it for everyone!”

Flagrant discourtesy seems to be the source of most of these annoyances and I’ve made a sport of spotting them. For those of you I see sitting quietly in your seats, waiting for the awe of sound to hit you, you are my allied forces against those who sleep, take phone calls, text, chat with friends, eat and drink – anything but listen to the music. Fight the good fight! After all, respect for ourselves guides our morals, but respect for others guides our manners.

So here it goes… my secret list of concert offenders:

1: Cranial rain barrels

There is nothing worse than having the person sitting in front of you doing the head-bob all night. You’ll see them snoring, drooling, gargling, and otherwise subjecting their dysfunctional sleep apnoea upon everyone around them as a true test of one’s faith in mankind. If you are that tired, just leave. The alternative is your head tilted zenith, and your mouth wide-open collecting invisible rainwater. Not a good look.

2: Candy wrapper-crinklers

You brought chocolate! Great! But… we can ALL hear your slow-motion holy quest to pull… it… out… of… its… wrapper… one… crinkle… at… a… time… It is little wonder there has been no violence against all the rampant concert-hall gluttony that goes on these days. If the will to eat overcomes you, for heaven’s sake, just unwrap it before the concert. And if you see me, yes, I’d like a piece too.

3: Crowd duckers

We’ve all see them. The power couple, who at the earliest possible moment at the end of a concert, jumps up from their seats clutching their Prada knapsacks and matching hats, whilst everyone claps with appreciation… It’s hard to miss them. They’ll brush past with a jarring sideways shuffle – their flat facial expressions heading towards a self-gratifying race to beat everyone to the underground parking lot. To them, I’d say: you are not a genius, nor the only ones to think of doing this. It takes but 5 minutes to pay your regards to those who have entertained you for the better part of an hour (or more)… you’ll be home soon enough.

4: Bravo/Brava confusers

Hollering out bravo to a female performer really gets under my skin. Bravo, is for men, and Brava is for women. Learn it, people! Otherwise don’t be offended when someone calls you Mrs. when you are a Mr. (or vice versa).

5. Karajan impersonators, finger bongos, and hummers

I once sat behind a well-known arts critic at a concert, and after recognising him, looked forward to introducing myself. Once the concert got underway , he started conducting the symphony right there from his seat. Hands waving wildly, head thrusting side to side, hair jostled, the power of the music flowing through him like a toddler’s finger in an electrical socket. His lack of restraint was impressive.

I sat there, trapped, with his hands flickering 3 feet away from my face like a moth to a porch light. I politely asked him to stop, but he turned his attention abruptly forward, pretending I wasn’t there. There was no way I could review the show. Despite taking notes, he didn’t either.

After his conducting equivalent of air-guitar, I decided not to introduce myself after all. His family looked mortified, and so was I for having to witness what should have stayed in front of a bathroom mirror.

Also, if you feel it appropriate to tap and humming along to the music, then don’t be surprised if I pull out my bongos and thump along to the Bolero from the parterre.

6: The Cell-phone denier

Okay – so you forgot to turn off your cell phone, and now it’s ringing in the middle of the concert. The panic of it all. The worst-case scenario. Yes, it’s happening. Confront it. Own it, and turn your phone off as fast as you can. Everyone will know you are the asshole whose phone is ringing, but at least you turned it off.

7: The Cell-phone ostrich

We can all see your secret phone on your lap. It’s dark – and the glow is an unintended part of the lighting design. Internet addiction and ADD are alive and well, and you are not alone. But the concert hall should be a place to live in the moment. Opportunities to annoy your friends with Farmville requests will be waiting for you after the show.

8: Balcony blockers

Leaning forward in a balcony seat blocks the view of those behind you. You already have a great seat – do you really need to luxuriate by blocking as many sightlines as you possibly can? Just know that the 15 people behind you are fantasising about pushing you over the balcony.

9: Canadian luggage (a.k.a. the hangover)

I know we live in Canada and have cold winters. But, coat-check people! Flopping your oversized down-parka behind the back of your seat in the concert hall will end up taking up 7 of the allotted 14 inches of legroom of the person sitting behind you. For those of us with height, it can mean the difference between being comfortable and uncomfortable.

10. The perpetual standing O

Do we really need to do a standing ovation for every concert? Who is it for anyway? If you really think this is the best concert you’ve ever seen, by all means, stand and cheer! But for me, this is a very special gesture reserved for only the most amazing performances. Doing it at every concert only cheapens the sincerity. When in doubt, stay seated and clap – otherwise you are cheering just because everyone else is.

***

So there you have it folks, the secret confessions of a music blogger doing his best to survive the dangerous perils of concert reviews.

If you see me out there in the trenches, wearing my flack vest, army issue boots, and Wagnerian Pickelhaube, do say Hello, and if you have it, offer me some chocolate. I like chocolate –just unwrap it first. And if anyone sees me conducting along to the symphony from my seat, it’s probably shell-shock – call for help. Right away. 911. The whole deal.

Michael Vincent

Michael Vincent
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