Misc 3 - Should it?

I can't stop laughing at this article I found online by the very funny and very awesome cellist, Steven Isserlis. I'm posting it here lest the link to the original article cease to exist.

It shouldn't happen to a cellist.
Mobile phones, coughs, sneezes, snores... these are just some of the things that annoy the classical performer. Is it any wonder that they sometimes lose their temper, asks Steven Isserlis - Saturday 10 January 2004

The other day, I received an email bearing the intriguing news that I had "made it". My correspondent told me to buy the Christmas edition of Private Eye. I did so, and read there an article about classical musicians responding to unwanted audience participation at concerts. To my surprise, it contained a story alleging that I had, at a recent recital, repeatedly hit an audience member over the head with a bunch of flowers.

The truth was a little different: the incident took place in Prague, where I was playing a rarity, Dvorak's early cello concerto (not the famous one) with the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra. Near the beginning of the work, I noticed a gentleman in the front row falling asleep.

Normally, I have no objection to people falling asleep in concerts; of course, I'd much rather they would stay awake and listen, but I accept that it does occasionally happen. This man, however, was falling asleep in a way that rather caught the attention: his neck had seemingly taken on a life of its own, trying (understandably) to escape the company of his head, drooping down to impressively contorted angles before shooting up again to its accustomed position beneath his chin every 20 seconds or so.

At first, I (and the audience members around him, and several members of the orchestra) found it funny; but I grew increasingly irritated as it started to affect my concentration on the music.

Before the last movement, I moved the music stand so that it stood firmly between me and him (normally, this isn't a great idea because a music stand in front of the cello soaks up some of the sound, but I was getting desperate). However, his head kept appearing at horribly regular intervals beneath the stand, before being jerked back by his indefatigable neck.

So by the end of the performance, I was in a foul mood and, when I was presented with flowers as I bowed, I threw them - in rather a petulant gesture, I admit - into the man's lap. He woke up briefly, smiled and went back to sleep (and departed after the concert, I was told, looking very contented with himself and with his flowers).

Of course, I was far more pleased to be featured in Private Eye than I was annoyed by the inaccuracy of its reporting; but being reminded of the incident got me thinking that it might be an idea to have some sort of charter for audience members and performers, to regulate behaviour at concerts. For the former, the rules should address, above all, the issue of coughing, which has long been the cause of concert-platform rage among players.

Of course, people sometimes have to cough; it is the way we're made. But I am convinced that some people come to concerts purely to try out their hacks and splutters. There is always a way to soften a cough so that it doesn't ruin the whole atmosphere for the rest of the audience as well as the artists.

A handkerchief will help, as will a tightly clasped fist (that of the cougher, or, failing that, of his or her neighbours). Cough sweets can be helpful, too (but not those wrapped in crinkly paper, for obvious reasons). And if the cough is really not to be surpressed, then a quiet exit from the hall - not, as I have often experienced, a grand and noisy departure, with rustling paper bags in tow, high heels clicking on the parquet and deafening whispers of apology followed by the final death-agony hack broadcast to the concert hall through the amplifying agent of the keyhole - is what is required.

As for going to sleep, well, if people are tired when they arrive at a concert, I suppose that it is inevitable that a few of them will yawn, fidget and eventually drift off. As a performer, I should try hard not to take it too personally, difficult though that is. But I do think that, if they know there is a danger of this happening, the somnolent one should avoid sitting in the direct sightline of the musicians; and that, if they yawn, they should try not to afford the performers a chance to inspect the state of their tonsils, splendidly healthy though these may be.

Then there are digital watches and, joy of joys, mobile phones. It is surprising how few of the great composers intended their piano sonatas (for instance) to be played as duos for piano and the ringing tones of mobile phones. In fact, I hear that a petition is being sent to the European parliament requesting that they soften their rigorous opposition to the death penalty when the crime committed is that of allowing a mobile phone to go off during a concert. Furthermore, this may be one of the few matters on which all European countries find themselves in agreement.

For the performers' side of the charter, perhaps we should agree not to glare balefully at someone who is fighting an irresistible choke. (Many years ago, I played a concert with Georg Solti, during which a woman right in front of me was fighting a cough, which eventually - to her evident misery - broke loose. Solti whipped round, stuffed his handkerchief to his mouth, and wagged a fierce finger at her.

Afterwards, I questioned him about this; after all, I told him, the woman had been suffering. "Ach," he rasped dismissively, "they don't suffer!") And perhaps we should also refrain, unless mightily provoked, from stalking offstage, swearing at the offenders or - it must be admitted - throwing things at them, even flowers.

But I do believe that the first step has to be taken by the audience - or rather, by that usually tiny minority who believe that, contained within the right to free speech, is the right to ruin concerts. I should advise them that, if they continue to ignore the warning signals, it is only a matter of time before a musician turns truly violent; and a cello spike or a piccolo placed in an inappropriate orifice could prove to be really quite uncomfortable...

And to end, something I was watching earlier.