No Concert for Young Men

A few days ago I attended a New Mexico Symphony Orchestra concert at the Rio Grande Zoo and saw a reassuring sight: more than ten people under the age of 60. See, I have a fear for the future of classical music. Go to any classical music concert and take a sociological profile of the crowd, and you will find that the vast majority of attendants could qualify for AARP and the senior discount. This phenomenon greatly interests me. It leads to several questions: Do young people simply not like classical music? Do senior citizens, once they reach the age of 60, just naturally gravitate towards classical music? Will the people of my generation ever embrace classical music?
I have grown up with classical music in my life, but I wonder if the senior citizens filling the seats at symphony concerts today grew up with classical music. Did this entire generation grow up with an appreciation for this style of music? Have they been attending classical music concerts for the past forty years, growing and changing with the musicians they watch? I really don’t have an answer to that. I have no idea if previous generations had any exposure to Beethoven before they turned 55. I do know that the vast majority of my generation has absolutely no idea about classical music. So perhaps one answer to my demographic question is that older generations simply “grew up” with classical music appreciation.
But given the incredible dominance of popular music from 50s onward, I do not think that this is the real answer. I do not think that the baby boomer sitting next to me at the symphony concert listened to Mozart in 1962. The first time he heard a string quartet was probably through the Beatles’ “Yesterday.” While previous generations probably did have more musical appreciation than the uncultured heathen hordes of my generation, I don’t think they were rushing to hear Haydn at Carnegie Hall.
Music and music performances have a surprising amount of socioeconomic connotations. Classical music somehow has become the music of the socioeconomic elite; tickets to the Met Opera in New York are as much a status symbol as a Jaguar in the garage and the newest Gucci purse on your arm. I have a feeling that many of the attendees don’t really like opera. They just need and want to be seen. Even in a much smaller and much less affluent place like Albuquerque, the situation is the same. Going to a symphony performance is one of only a handful events in Albuquerque for which people might change out of jeans into something slightly dressier. I don’t know why classical music has become the music of the elite—it would take an entire sociological study to attempt an answer to that question.
We traditionally associate socioeconomic status with older people—men and women who have worked hard all their adult lives to carve out a place in the world. Do they just now have the money to attend classical music concerts? Or do they just now have the patience to attend classical music concerts? Socioeconomic status concerns could definitely play a part in why most classical music attendees are “of a certain age.”
But for me, as a young person who enjoys classical music, the reason has to do with something in the performance itself—performance practices that tend to alienate the audience and create an unwelcoming atmosphere that turns young people away. Your average classical music performance is actually a deadly dull affair. Somber adults, many with graying hair of their own, come out in funereal dress, and with not one friendly word of introduction, launch into their music. No “Hello Cleveland!” from the conductor. Not even a “How’re you all doing tonight?” If an uneducated, uncultured cretin happens to clap between movements, he is greeted by glares from surrounding seatmates, even though he is actually expressing his enthusiasm for the music. Other people must sit with their hands clasped, deathly afraid of clapping in the wrong place. The musicians sit far, far away from you, elevated on a stage, while you sit far below them. You cannot really identify with them. No matter how warm or joyous the music, the presentation of it cannot help but alienate the audience.
Contrast this to the performance style of the Church of Beethoven (see link at right), a classical music performance series which has achieved great success with people of all ages and all walks of life. Informality creates a welcoming environment. The audience surrounds a performance space—the musicians are not elevated, but instead become physically part of the audience, allowing much greater identification. The musicians enter in semi-formal, semi-casual clothes and actually talk and interact with the audience. No one glares at you if you get up for more espresso.
Despite my love for playing classical music on the cello, I often get bored at classical music concerts. There’s no interaction between me and the musicians. In contrast, I have attended some outstanding rock concerts at which I could feel the interaction between the band and the crowd. The bands somehow responded to the energy of the crowd; I wish that classical musicians could open themselves up more to the energy of their audience.
Perhaps 60 and 70 year olds have reached a point in their lives when they do not need constant interaction—when they can sit passively and listen. I think that young people, even 30 and 40 year olds, still need a sense of informal interaction. Young people today want to banter with the performers they come to see. They want a give-and-take with the musicians. They want to clap whenever they feel the urge. They want the powerful feeling of the music to match the outward expression of that music. I myself cannot just sit passively. I want to get involved in the music. I can see why people like Leonard Bernstein and Yo-Yo Ma became so popular—not necessarily because they possessed greater skill, but because their effervescent enthusiasm made audiences feel involved and included and an actual part of the music.
I fear that if the classical music community continues to perform as it does today, it risks turning away people who may actually enjoy the music. We cannot let alienating performance practices get in the way of connecting music and people. I truly believe that most people, even the dunderheads of my generation, can enjoy classical music. They just have to hear it in the right way. I fear that unless we change our way of playing classical music, when my generation reaches retirement age, the audiences will have disappeared.