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| The Classicals |  |
I like classical music, too and Beloved Spouse and I had season subscriptions to the San Diego Symphony for years. But my Beloved Children, being musicians themselves, enjoy classical music and my 16-year-old daughter especially adores Bach. So, there we were. The crowd was a bit different from say, your typical Alice Cooper concert. If you added the ages of all four of us together, we would have still been the youngest in attendance. Not once, but twice, I got stuck behind the same woman making her way to her seat who walked just a tad slower than a glacier melts. Being polite, I waited both times for her to get to her destination and frankly, I had to admire her determination. I’m sorry to reinforce a stereotype but the woman sitting behind us was obviously from New York and spent the entire 20 minutes before the concert began discussing whether or not she should have removed her Band-aid. She and her friends cared deeply about this and more than likely continued this debate after the show ended. Another woman was apparently mining for gold in her ear. She was sitting a couple of rows in front of us was digging away like she had left a treasure map deep within the recesses of her inner ear and desperately needed to find it before the concert started. Another thing I noticed about this older audience was, as a group, they were completely incapable of whispering. Every personal comment and observation was announced with all the dramatic pauses and emotional qualities of the Sermon on the Mount. Classical music concerts have certain rules that do not pertain to other events. The songs are often performed as a series of movements and one only applauds at the end of the piece. One does not ever, under penalty of severe shushing and possibly being cane-whacked, clap between movements. This is very hard for Americans to do. We like to clap. We can’t even get through our own National Anthem without clapping. We used to wait until the end, then we moved it up to that really high note at “the land of the freeeee-EEEEEEEE” but now we can’t even wait that long. Soon, the song will start with “Oh, say can you...” and then the audience will do the wave. At classic rock concerts, we applaud wildly when the lights dim and the first notes ring out over the arena but we save our most enthusiastic response for when the lead singer says, “Hello...” and then says the name of the town. We are so very proud of any classic rocker who knows where he is. This is an AMAZING accomplishment and when they publically declare their location, we nearly go mad. But at classical concerts, you’re never quite sure when you’re supposed to clap. Never fear; I have the answer in case you’re unsure. The correct time to clap is when the guy next to you claps. That way, if it’s the wrong time, you’re not being a clueless cretin; you’re helping your neighbor not feel like a complete fool. You’re being nice. Clap extra loud. The classical performances are not without their levity. At our show, the oboist wore an oversized velvet rainbow bow tie which coordinated well with his oversized velvet rainbow cummerbund. Now, I believe Mick Jagger has been seen wearing this ensemble and absolutely nothing else besides a single red sock but velvet rainbow bow ties, even when worn with a full tuxedo, are still quite controversial in the classical music world. Tongues were wagging. This oboist also told a couple of funnies. He explained Bach’s sons thought their father quite out of touch with the music of the day and called him “an old Wig.” Several hearty chuckles ensued and many oxygen tanks were cranked to “extra witty.” But later in the show he said “some people say that fugues are when the instruments enter one at a time while the audience leaves one at a time.” The violinist was so overwhelmed with mirth at this bon mot; the concert was delayed for several minutes. This was the highlight of the evening and made the ushers arrange for EMTs to be on standby. I’m glad I didn’t share any of my classical music puns: -Let me show Pan (Chopin) my list (Liszt) of Moe’s art (Mozart.) -Are you Schmidt (sick?) No, I couldn’t Handel it and had to Rachmaninoff. -Hey, Dan (Haydn) you can’t Stamtz there. Bolero here. -I’ll be Bach. You Beethoven. I might have killed the audience. |
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