I was talking to a friend and fellow audience member during the intermission of a symphony orchestra concert the other night.
This symphony orchestra likes to have its conductor, and guest conductors, talk from the stage. It also has them interview composers.
My friend and I hate all of the talking. We come for the music, and have read the program notes or attended the pre-concert lecture. Now it’s time to shut up and play, we feel. I know of many others who feel the same as well.
I have mentioned this matter in print as well as in person to key personnel of this symphony orchestra. The response is always the same. The orchestra’s surveys show that many in the audience, perhaps the majority, enjoy the musical chit chat on stage. It helps them connect with the performers and the music.
There doesn’t seem to be a solution to the problem, in other words.
And yet, I think there can be a compromise, which my friend and I discovered during our conversation.
What is most offensive and boring about the talk onstage is that it repeats what we have already read in the program notes, in articles in newspapers and magazines, and, if we’ve attended, what we’ve heard in the pre-concert lecture.*
We’ve done our homework, we’ve come prepared to hear the concert.
Then we have to sit through a re-run of our homework, presumably addressed to those who are the least interested in what they are about to hear, since they haven’t taken the time to learn anything about it beforehand.
This is all sounding rather snobby, and I don’t mean it that way. I am truly pleased to have newbies in the audience at all times.
But what I am saying is that the concert presentation can’t always be geared to the newbies.
Here’s the solution: When you talk on stage at a concert, don’t repeat what has already been said in the program notes, in the press, in the marketing, in the pre-concert lecture. Say something else. Don’t always be “introductory” in your remarks. Further the discussion of the work or composer in question.
That way everyone is served, not just the people who don’t know anything.
*I generally make a miss of pre-concert lectures, for various reasons. One is that I don’t like to hear samples of the music on the concert beforehand. It ruins the meal. Another is that program notes, for me, are a better prelude to listening.
classical life 
Exactly.
Totally agree. It drives me crazy. I especially dislike the onstage banter during PSYO and PSYWE concerts. I go to watch my students play and the concerts take forever due to all the talking. I’m sure they have their reasons, but every concert goer I’ve ever talked to hates it.
Tim, Enjoyable as usual.
I JUST THINK WE’D GET A BETTER DISCUSSION IF WE COULD ASK QUESTIONS AFTER THE CONCERT’S OVER.
1. I would have loved to hear Lorraine Hunt Lieberson discuss the Five Neruda Songs with Salonen and the LA Phil the evening they performed them at Disney Hall. She died soon after. It was one of the most beautiful concerts I’ve ever heard. Talk about drama. I don’t believe Lieberson himself was there that night. But wouldn’t that have been something?
OR:
2. Several years ago I saw Salonen conduct the Philharmonia Orchestra at DIsney Hall doing a live concert presentation of Berg’s “Wozzeck” with minimal stage movements, etc.Salonen gave a short intro to the piece and how much it meant to him. It was riveting, and the crowd was surprisingly positive afterward for such a difficult piece. Several nights later, we saw a performance of the Philharmonia at Segerstrom Hall with Salonen conducting again. I can’t remember what they performed, but during the intermission, because our seats were very close to the stage, I just went down to where the bass section was setting down their instruments, and said to the closest one to me that we’d been at the Wozzeck performance at Disney Hall and I was wowed by their performance. All of a sudden, all of the bassist’s came over and began asking me questions re their performance, how did it sound, etc, but also that they were amazed at the incredible response of that audience to such a challenging piece. Then they started talking about Disney Hall, and Orange County audiences, and how beautiful Segerstrom Hall was. They all said that the orchestra just LOVES Salonen, and what he brings to the music. It was enlightening to me to see how the orchestra members were willing to speak about their music, etc. Openly and honestly.Wouldn’t that have have been interesting to our audience? And how about you being the MC?
This post seems awfully familiar. Is it a repeat from a few years ago? Or did i read something very similar somewhere else? In any event, i agree with Garry Schroeder: when Esa-Pekka talked to the audience, it was usually effective, educational, entertaining – and not too long most of the time. In other words, it all depends on how it is done, and in best cases can be quite useful to the audience.
“One is that I don’t like to hear samples of the music on the concert beforehand. It ruins the meal.”
Hear, hear! Drives me nuts …
That conversation with your friend generated some very insightful analysis. Kudos for giving voice to the frustration shared by so many and for taking the time to proffer tactful solutions.
Irrespective of how gifted the speaker/conductor/composer is, can we at least stipulate that the experience we paid for is supposed to be a classical music concert, not a classical music lecture? Program notes and pre-concert lectures abound (they come at no extra charge) and are readily accessible to anyone willing to seize the opportunity.
Yes, of course, we want the newcomers to feel welcome. Nevertheless, the truly motivated will, in the end, find a way to fend for themselves, orchestra surveys notwithstanding.
Post-concert discussions can be enriching for anyone willing to stick around. But forcing everyone to endure what essentially amounts to a word-for-word regurgitation of the same exact information from the program notes and at the pre-concert lecture is truly exasperating.
Over the years (more than once) I have silently contemplated faking a medical condition (perhaps a heart attack) hoping it might finally cause the speaker(s) to shut up. Maybe some night I’ll hurl myself down the stairs near my seat. Who knows? It could be fun.
If I had a dollar for every time I’ve thought to myself, “Please, for the love of God, just stop talking and play”, there’d be enough to fund a large chunk of my season subscription renewal. It wasn’t always like this.
Over on Facebook, Bob, a couple of readers are telling me I’m totally wrong, and that I’m a snob for saying anything about it. I told them that there are a lot more people who hate the talk, talk, talk than they realize.