The View from the Spaghetti Factory

It’s been a good summer. For a start, there was this…

I like the Proms. I’ll admit that it’s a flawed system, limited geographically to London and stylistically to a fairly traditional idea of what “classical” music is. But it’s fun. And, unless you insist on having a plush seat when you go to a classical concert, it’s a bargain… where else can you hear some of the world’s top orchestras for 4 pounds a go?

Of course, there has to be a downside, and the Proms are a fine opportunity to see the smug middle classes at close quarters. We think we’re a civilised nation, but it became plain to me over the course of these concerts that a lot of people have no idea how to behave. There’s no need to be unduly authoritarian and finicky about these things, but common sense dictates that loud coughing, talking, fidgeting and letting your mobile phone ring doesn’t constitute ideal behaviour for an orchestral concert, where the wide range of dynamics can result in such extraneous noises having a major impact upon the musical performance.

So you have a cough. Fine. It happens to us all. You can muffle the sound with your hands, a handkerchief, your sleeve or a small child, and your fellow audience members suffer only a minimal disturbance. But that’s too much trouble for some people. Their throats must be cleared, and cleared properly. Tough shit if it’s a noisy business – it has to be done. If you went to a Prom this year and wilfully coughed loudly and openly during a musical performance, watch out next year. I’m going to hunt you down and kill you in the neck. The same goes for the mobile phone users. How difficult is it to switch it off, especially when the BBC play the same “please switch off your mobiles” appeal over the PA every fucking evening? Let’s see if your precious phone floats in the fountain, shall we?

What was more intriguing was that most of the disturbances seemed to come from the most expensive seats… the stalls and boxes. Now, call me naive, but if I’m going to pay for the best seat in the house, I want the best experience in the house. I’m going to do everything I can to make my listening enjoyment perfect, which means switching off my mobile, making sure I have a drink of water and generally sitting and LISTENING CAREFULLY TO THE MUSIC. But for some people, that ticket seems to represent a one-way personal contract with the orchestra… “You play the music for me. If I want to cough, I’ll cough. If I want to fidget, drop things on the floor or do farmyard impressions, I’ll do so. I’m hiring you to play for me, no questions asked.” Morons. Imbeciles. And I know where you all live.

I could go on at length, but the rant’s over for now, and besides, my enjoyment of this year’s Proms vastly outweighed the occasional gripes. Interestingly, though, this brings me tangentially to what I did during the last little bit of summer, after the Proms had finished (and which I’ll expand on in another moaning heap of drivel very soon). I got back yesterday from a couple of weeks’ holiday in Sweden, and you know what? I may be creating a simplified, idealistic picture here, but I can’t imagine any of the above happening at a classical gig in Sweden. It takes a special kind of smugness, which, sadly, I’m seeing more and more here in the UK.