4.4.04

It's not about you.

K. and I went to see Renée Fleming in recital today. We were surrounded by people over thirty, nay, over fifty and the ushers eyed us suspiciously. They probably suspected us of bashing some tiny blue-haired woman over the head with her Chanel bag and then swapping our crappy second-balcony tickets for her posh mezzanine seats in her ensuing daze. I don't have much to say about the performance itself. Of course it was good and of course the Schubert was the highlight, even though Berg fought fiercely for the honor.

I do, however, have a couple of things to say about classical-music audiences in Toronto. I'll begin by summing up: they suck except for those at the Jane Mallett Theatre, probably because it's so small that it would be easy to mob any party guilty of poor etiquette after the performance. The stairs are steep too, making a quick get-away almost impossible. Roy Thomson hall, on the other hand, provides a sense of anonymity, which in turns allows some individuals to give in to their inner jackasses. So, although the program asked very nicely that the audience hold its applause until the end of each song grouping, there was, of course, applause between every frickin' song. Ms. Fleming actually asked the audience before Berg's Seven Happy Songs to hold its applause until the end of the seventh song. People applauded after the fifth because the page had to be turned to see the lyrics for the final two songs. Upon realizing that there were two more songs, members of the audience began to race to see who could clap first. It's a sign of intelligence and respect to rustle your program with increasing vigor as the end approaches and to applaud before the pianist has taken his hands off the keyboard and the singer has visibly relaxed her posture. Cripes.

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