This past Saturday, the Arnica Quartet (of which I am the founding violist), performed Britten’s Third String Quartet at the Portland Art Museum as part of its Venice exhibition (which runs through May 11th). We played in the excellent Whitsell Auditorium, which is nominally the home of the Northwest Film Center, but does occasionally host musical events. If it had a real backstage area and a good piano, it would be the go to performance space for chamber music in downtown Portland. As we played the first movement of the quartet, we became aware of some sounds in the auditorium which did not quite ‘belong’. The second movement is quite a loud and obnoxious movement, so things were not quite as evident to us on stage. By the third movement, which is a very Shostakovich in its mood, an eerie movement, with high, stratospherically high, notes in the first violin, these sounds, which turned out to be human in origin (but not quite obviously so at first) also went into full cry. Someone was clearly reacting to the music in a very visceral, unchecked fashion. By the last movement, when more physical reactions were being exhibited, the source of the disturbance left the hall, and the quartet came to its soft and ambiguous ending in peace.
It turns out that there was a differently-abled person in the audience – in the front row (or nearly so) as it turns out, and on the far right of the audience portion of the hall (and hence behind my back). He was with his parents, who had taken him to the concert. He evidently had been very moved by the music, and unlike those of us who have full control over (some) of our higher functions, he gave voice to whatever he was feeling each moment. So his keening along with the eerie music of the third movement made complete sense, as did his increasingly agitated state during the second movement – the rough and fast Burlesque. As this was going on, I was thinking to myself, “ok, there is something going on in the audience. I’m not sure what it is, but I just need to concentrate.” This was followed by “geez, whatever that is, I wish it would stop or they would leave, it’s getting difficult to tune this out.” Then “I feel badly for the audience, those around this person must be having a difficult time getting into the music”. And finally “I shouldn’t be judging this person, they aren’t doing it on purpose and likely cannot control it”. And then I miscounted my entrance in the last movement Passacaglia.
I’m sure that many in the audience went through the same inner monologue. In the end, our performance was greeted very warmly and appreciatively. It didn’t seem to matter what had happened during the performance, from the standpoint of what had taken place off stage. In fact, might the performance actually been enhanced by the vocalizations? I mean, here was a person who was obviously profoundly moved by what we were playing – a great, final quartet by one of the great composers of the 20th – or any other – century. Isn’t that what we, as performers, aim to do? Isn’t ‘reaching just one audience member’ enough? It’s what we tell our donors when we ask for money for special needs appropriate concerts, isn’t it? It’s what we aim for at every concert, isn’t it? To reach just one person in a profound and meaningful way, that is mission accomplished.
This isn’t to say that unwrapping a cough drop during the final bars of Mahler’s Ninth Symphony, or talking to your lover at the opening of the slow movement of Beethoven’s Seventh, or unleashing a 90 decibel cough at the quietest moment of a work of Alban Berg isn’t profoundly annoying to both the performers and your fellow audience members. Most of us can control when we cough, open a cough drop (before the piece begins, natch), or talk to our concert companion, and we should. Please, clap between movements. Stamp your feet, even, when it’s really great. Shout, cheer, even do that two-handed country whistle thing that deafens everyone in a 25 yard radius. I don’t care – whoop it up! Even boo if you hate it – I might like that even more! But please, be kind to your fellow audience members, most of whom hear what you do much more clearly than those of us on stage. They paid good money for their tickets, too, and they didn’t pay to hear Brahms’ Concerto for Hacking Cough, Violin, and Orchestra.
62 replies on “concert distractions considered”
based on the info you’ve provided & all dancing verbiage aside, that exceedingly disruptive individual should NOT have been at your concert. PERIOD.
Agree with Bob, more or less. That’s one thing recordings are for. You should see me at home when I’ve got something playing that I love. If I tried that stuff at a concert I’d get thrown out.
It’s good to provide as normal a life as possible for people with disabilities but I draw the line where provision for one hurts a whole roomful of people. Parental indulgence may have been a factor, also inappropriate for the context. But maybe they were just as surprised as you and even more conflicted.
LOL re the second movement! It really is pretty obnoxious, something Shostakovich was also good at. They felt enabled by Mahler maybe. I’m sorry I missed the performance… I think.
I was at the concert, Charles, and had the same thoughts. You expressed yours with intelligence and thoughtfulness. However, the volunteer usher in me wanted to suggest to the patron that he remove his son so as to not disrupt the playing and listening. That said, the concert was wonderful, and I doubt anyone noticed that you missed the entrance to the last movement.
Dang it. I missed that concert! As a critic, I could have complained about the audience and about Charles missing that entrance. Or I could have probably shown my complete ignorance and not noticed that he missed the entrance.
It was a very interesting and thought-provoking experience. It did not spoil the concert for me, it actually made it more meaningful and memorable. And it really is a nice room for a string quartet. More, please!
Robert, I agree with you completely that it was more meaningful and memorable afternoon and noting spoil the quartet concert. We are so blessed to have our perfect healthy body with our full body function and control for now. (nothing last forever) I am blessed to be able to hear, to see and to feel such beautiful string concerto on that perfect Saturday afternoon. My heart smiled with each note with so much joy. Later into the program I noticed as many of us the noise coming from the front. Once I realized it was from a child, I prayed for each of the audience to share the moment with this beautiful child of God, whom may not have the perfect function of his body, but he has the perfect heart and the perfect taste for this incredible beautiful concert. He understood the delivery of each notes perhaps more so than many in that room. Yes he cried out with love, joy and for the music moved his spirit. I too wanted to cry out and clap my hands to show the musicians how they have moved me too! What would Jesus do if he was in the room? On my way home I met the family and I blessed him. He is just a beautiful Child of God. They had the right to be there, it was an afternoon of free concert for all of us. God made music for all Souls. Music is Life. Music saved my life. There was a period in my life that I would cried as I sat there during my favorite symphony. At the end I was always the first one to stood up with tears down my cheeks and love in my heart as I loudly cheered and clapped. Have empathy and spread your kindness and share the blessings with love and forgiveness. It’s just a moment. ~
“Laughter is the Music of the Heart”
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I am with Robert. I love when persons such as you described are at concerts. “It’s what we aim for at every concert, isn’t it? To reach just one person in a profound and meaningful way, that is mission accomplished.” — beautifully said. I don’t even mind coughing, or hearing aid feedback – the fact that those sounds exist means that people (human beings!!) are at our shows, hearing the art we all own as residents of this planet. I am so glad those parents brought their child to your show. He deserves the music as much as anyone else! That being said, I also love when there are concerts designed specifically for persons who may uncontrollably make noises, so parents and caretakers can feel at ease bringing their loved ones.
It brought tears to my eyes that this boy heard your amazing quartet. You made a difference to that family that day. Love to you, Charles!!! xo A
all of your and robert’s comments are lovely & fair enuff.
HOWEVER, i hold to my earlier stated view that such a fellow does not belong at a public concert where his behavior seriously impedes both the performance & enjoyment of same by the vast majority of those in attendance.
had this occurred during one of my concert programs, i would have asked the offending party to leave.
That’s too bad. You might have lost yourself a fan, and lost classical music a fan.
wow, you are certainly welcome to feel that way.
now, just for the sake of an ongoing multi-view of this matter, imagine the following:
+ person loves the britten 3rd sq
+ person has never heard the work live & is VERY excited about this relatively rare opportunity
+ person studies score & gets seriously prepared for the concert
+ person drives a considerable distance, hires a babysitter & pays for a ticket
+ person has their concert experience of britten’s 3rd DESTROYED by a distracted performance & an unsavory singalong by a fellow audience member close @ ear
+ person decides not to subject him/herself to the possibility of being so seriously disappointed again & elects to stay home next time
now, tell me, what about THAT fan?
truth be told, i can’t even believe we are discussing this obviously untenable concert atmosphere at such length. i mean, come on, let’s get serious here about what is & isn’t appropriate in our concert halls.
Hey, I for one am glad we’re discussing this – it’s really important! I wrote another comment earlier about recordings versus live performances that seems to have gotten lost in the ether. My point there was that perhaps recordings are better for people who don’t want concert hall distractions – because there are always going to be some. We are human, and listening in a large group certainly amplifies the human experience. People will sigh when moved, drop programs, crinkle cough drop wrappers because they don’t realize the sound carries, fidget when bored, whisper to their neighbors, leave early, stay late, etc etc.
Had a disabled person made noise during our hypothetical performance of Britten, I doubt the above fan would be lost to classical music forever – he or she sounds like a serious student of the genre. However, when we try to open our doors to those from all walks of life, we do run the risk of losing people’s interest when we kick them out 🙂
It’s very interesting to me that you capitalized “destroyed” and used the word “unsavory”. I believe perhaps we have very different perceptions of what an audience is and isn’t. I truly hope that at every concert I perform that there are a wide variety of concertgoers – from the most experienced to the least. I don’t expect complete silence. As a veteran performer, I expect some interesting noises – and hopefully some interesting conversation afterwards.
Best,
Alicia
it appears that i simply “don’t get” where you are coming from & vice-versa.
curiously, IS there a level of concert disturbance that you won’t tolerate or are you really embracing an “anything goes” attitude here?
Sure, if someone comes into a hall to deliberately destroy a performance (ie. heckling), I would be upset. When someone yelled out intentionally at the end of Mahler 10 a few years ago, I was shocked and dismayed. Now *that* was an example, in my opinion, of the ending of that piece being destroyed for performers and audience. The yeller’s only goal was to satisfy himself. He did not come to enjoy the music – he came to prove a point, wacky as it was.
And a question for you: what is the most noise that you will tolerate/accept/embrace during your performance?
Thank you for the ongoing discourse. I really do believe this is an important discussion to have.
ah, thanx for clarifying your threshold of pain as being intolerant of DELIBERATE distractions.
well, it could be that the caregivers of our noisy concert lad KNEW what was likely to happen by bringing him along. if so, then i guess you could say that they “deliberately” enabled behavior they KNEW would “destroy” the experience for many, many people.
so, as you can see, we could keep going with this & still not quite “get” where each other is ultimately coming from.
as for me, of course i can accept an occasional cough (incessant hacking is a no-no), one or two brief cough drop unravelings (not the slow & agonizingly protracted type where the clueless individual thinks they are being quieter this way), a few ultra-quiet & quick whisperings (not the egregious annoyance of an ongoing running commentary), etc.
in other words, i expect people to realize where they are & that the majority of the audience are there to LISTEN to the music – NOT to a secondary repertoire of distracting behaviors.
oh, here’s another example of what could be another threshold breaker . . . a few years ago, a fellow attended a concert by Cascadia Composers at the Old Church. sadly, this fellow STUNK so bad that many audience members did their utmost to get as far away from his eau de urine, vomit & who knows what else. now, what should or shouldn’t be done in a case like this?
“To reach one person in a profound and meaningful way” in an audience of, say, a hundred people is a failure. Read slightly differently than you no doubt intended, it’s a brutal commentary on the lowered expectations of classical presenters with respect to others. Can’t we at least set the bar at fifty or even ten before we’re satisfied? And now consider: will disruptive audience members (who, by the way, may be responding in a way described more accurately by psychopathology than any emotion most would recognize) or whining hearing aids help reach that larger number, or hurt? Silent people have feelings too! And they tend to be better equipped to spread the word in response.
There are so many ways to spread art to the relatively small “problematic” audience. There are recordings, there are shows in alternative venues, there are volunteer initiatives of various kinds. In a broader sphere, initiatives such as the ADA provide reasonable accommodation in return for reasonable sacrifice by others. What we seem to have in this instance is something far beyond all that, something with darkness mixed into it.
It’s not a matter of lowered expectations. Rather, it is what matters to me. I cannot move everyone in performance – sometimes not even myself, as it happens – but I know, in my heart of hearts, that there may be one particular person who is in need of what I provide at that time, and they will receive the solace, sustenance, and stimulation that they came in search of in the concert hall. If I reach that one person, then my job as an artist is complete. Everything else is just gravy. This isn’t something to be parsed, as some here are so eager to do. In fact, I’d say that with every single person that we reach in a profound and meaningful way, we further our art form in much more significant and lasting ways that some of the more ‘mass’ methods of trying to reach audiences is able to manage.
this is all well & very good.
now, since you don’t think some of this can be parsed, please permit a simply, direct & straight up, yes or no question, ok?
do you or do you not believe that “reaching” that young boy in your audience was worth having the overall concert experience seriously compromised for even ONE other person attending your program? perhaps this one person (a newbie?) was so devastated by having their potential enjoyment of the concert ruined that they won’t be coming back. does this possibility bother you?
additionally, i’ve noticed that not one person here has mentioned that perhaps what this boy was “voicing” during the performance was distress. EVERYONE here seems to believe (read: wants to believe) that the lad was positively moved. perhaps he was deeply pained some of the time & wished that he wasn’t there being captively forced to endure the “beautiful music.”
just a thought . . .
In answer to your question(s): 1. Yes, I believe it was worth it. And 2. no, it doesn’t bother me. As for reading positive or negative reactions to the music by the person in question, I’d be inclined to believe what his parents have to say on the matter, which was that it was very positive, since they interact with him virtually every hour of every day, and know how to communicate with him.
thanx for answering my questions so succinctly & honestly.
it does appear that you are definitely valuing the experience of one person over another and/or -as this case amply demonstrates – the majority. you are completely entitled to make this/these choice(s) at your own show.
had i been there, i would definitely have approached an usher to help put an end to the disruptions. had i not been able to find an usher or the usher was unwilling to intervene, i would have approached the noisy party directly asking them to bring the situation under control as quickly as possible. had that failed, i would have left.
now, if this had been my own gig, i might have gone so far as to stop the concert until relative order could be restored. i’m actually not completely sure about this last unfortunate scenario & honestly hope i will never be forced into a position in which i might have to so “ruthlessly, narcissistically, judgmentally, heartlessly & intolerantly” exert my “authority.”
i should honestly tell you that i’m now considerably less enthusiastic about attending or being part in programing one of your future programs KNOWING full well that you are essentially unwilling to do ANYTHING to remedy an inordinately disturbing – dare i say, out of control? – concert environment.
in other words, you are free to address this sort of situation as you see fit & i will do likewise.
It’s not a matter of ‘mass’ methods. You said it yourself, “with every single person that we reach…” If you choose to reach one at the cost of alienating ten, when you might have reached those ten by alienating one, you’ve risked (relative) failure. It’s not “parsing”, it’s just serious consideration of a difficult subject.
Thank you, Alicia, for staying in this. I admit I got so hot I became intolerant in the opposite extreme – wanting to kick out all the intolerants. I got weepy reading Charles’ progress from puzzled through annoyed to acceptance. What a mensch!
I’ve been in those situations as audience and as performer and pretty much was reduced to a puddle of tears reflecting on my own good health and relatively okay brain function.
This judgemental/narcissistic attitude is so foreign in my own ethnic heritage (greeks in greece – where I lived for 2 years) where living in society means including EVERYONE.
Not sure where this comment will end up, but I am responding to Bob @ 1:33.
I agree, we don’t know what the caregivers knew about the boy; perhaps they had no idea the music would affect him so. In any case, yes, we could argue it to death but, (you will laugh, I hope) I believe with conversation we can come closer to understanding one another 🙂
What I am understanding from your writing is that you would like your audience to be educated in traditional classical concert-going manners. If they cannot follow these rules, they should not be a member of the audience. Am I correct?
RE: the gentleman at the Old Church. This is a difficult situation, of course. I can honestly say that I believe that man had a right to be at the concert and I sincerely hope the music lifted him up. I hope if I had been in the audience I would have been tolerant of the poor man’s situation. Would I have moved seats? Perhaps. But I really wouldn’t begrudge him a musical experience. What should or shouldn’t be done? I don’t think he should be kicked out. If I were performing, I hope I would have the courage to approach him and ask him how he enjoyed the show.
I’ve sat here for a while thinking – and trying to evaluate honestly – about my reactions to noise as a performer vs. as an audience member. As a performer, you know I’m all about welcoming a diverse audience with diverse reactions. As an audience member, am I the same way? I know that at classical performances I am eager to hear reactions from the audience with whom I am sitting. But at the theater, which is not my art form and I really have to pay attention, how do I feel? I will be observing myself to find out.
I think we can all agree that intentional, controllable actions (candy unwrapping during quiet moments, hearing aids that can be turned down once the user is made aware) should be discouraged and serial offenders politely shushed or asked to leave, after a warning.
The real question is what to do about the imperfect people — the, uh, DISTRACTIONS — whose involuntary actions interfere with MY perfect concert experience. And of course, the answer is indeed obvious: They, too, should simply be banned — or roughly ejected — from the premises, because their injury or birth defect might render them unfit to enjoy the performance without interfering with MY ideal musical environment. Those using those hissing ventilators to breathe should be ordered to shut them off for the duration.
After all, why should I be expected to stay home and listen to my perfect stereo system and speakers and headphones? I demand total control of the public space, too, because giving ME MY perfect aural experience for a few minutes is so much more important than allowing it to someone who doesn’t have the decency to be born without disabilities. Their condition obviously renders the Distractions undeserving of the public pleasure of music the rest of us are entitled to.
In fact, their audible imperfections make me so uncomfortable, I think these defectives should also be banned from restaurants, where their uncomfortable noises will disrupt MY perfect gastronomic enjoyment.
Actually, why should I have to see these disturbing people on the street, or teach them in my classes? I can’t be expected to enjoy my stroll through the park with all those strange sounds emanating from those Distractions and obscuring the lovely birdcalls! MY perfect view of the rose bushes will be ruined if I happen to get a glimpse of their misshapen bodies, a whiff of their human odors. How can I concentrate on the lecture when their rude behavior is constantly reminding me how lucky I am to not be in their condition — and how I could actually be in that position thanks to one driver texting when I’m crossing the street in front of her?
Yes, the solution is indeed OBVIOUS: these impertinent, imperfect examples of humanity should be confined — by law and shackles, if need be — to their quarters, forced to beg 80 symphony orchestra musicians to give them private performances at enormous public expense. By all means, let’s tell them they’re not welcome in MY sightline or hearing range. Keep the Distractions out of MY sight, out of mind, so I don’t have to think about their needs, the better to focus on the ideal concert / dining/ strolling experience in social spaces that belong to everyone. Because MY needs are all that matter.
I am appalled that Charles Noble so selfishly continued playing in such imperfect conditions rather than abruptly halting the performance and ordering the miscreants to be summarily and humiliatingly evicted. I’ve actually performed in such circumstances myself, and my reaction when it happened was, “Thank you for reminding me how lucky I am.” I suspect that this sudden, unexpected realization caused me to play at least two wrong notes (because, like our audiences, musicians are so delicate we can brook no human-caused distraction), no doubt spoiling the entire perfect aural experience for the ideal listeners. And we were so close, too, because the Schnitzer/Hult Center — any concert hall — provides an utterly immaculate acoustical experience, were it not for these pathetic intruders. Ensconced in my inhuman world of sonic perfection, I’ve never been distracted by an overheard sneeze, or cough, or gasp of delight, or an ambulance siren pealing on the street nearby.
Come to think of it, why aren’t those damned emergency sirens banned near concert halls during MY perfect performance, too? Isn’t the perfect aural experience for hundreds more important than saving one idiot who chooses to have a heart attack during MY concert? When someone next to me in the concert hall keels over, I considerately wait till intermission to notify the usher, so as not to perturb the most important thing: MY pristine listening environment.
Not that we should lack compassion, of course. Let’s generously grant these unfortunate souls the opportunity to hear the music we all love, too — in splendid isolation, of course — forcing them and their advocates to beg for special, separate performances, to remind them just how unwelcome and unworthy they are in our ideal world. Let’s even give these special programs a name: Separate But Equal Music!
And let’s be sure that we tell the Distractions what’s right for them instead of ASKING them to participate in the discussion and devising the solution, because we perfect people know better than those defectives what’s best for them.
Of course, we could avoid this entire false either/or dichotomy by simply requiring performers and concert halls and art museums to make reasonable accommodations for the imperfect among us — like special seating for those who need it, training for staff, outreach to organizations that represent them, and refunds extended to anyone whose ideal aural environment was sullied by human imperfection — with full involvement in decision making by those who will be most affected and their advocates. (Not having been there myself, I’m guessing that the ad hoc nature of the PAM event probably contributed to the situation; most performance spaces I’m aware of have long ago learned how to handle such circumstances.) And maybe by extending a little compassion and patience to those not as lucky as we are. But that would require effort and expense that might divert attention and resources from what really matters: achieving the ideal aural experience, for those already fortunate enough to be able to enjoy it.
And someday, when, thanks to an inattentive driver or unruly blood clot in the brain, we find ourselves in the position of the offending Distraction, dearly longing to enjoy the concert experience we used to cherish, and we dare to inconsiderately show up at the concert hall door, and the nice man in the usher’s suit ever so politely informs us, sorry, turn around, go home… well, of course we’ll understand. Because it will be obvious to everyone just why we now-imperfect human beings are no longer welcome, here in the perfect, inhuman world of Art.
Brett, your writing is stunning. Thank you for this. The last paragraph – last sentence, especially – gave me chills.
Demagoguery is usually stunning, that’s the whole point of it. When the dazzle of Brett’s litany of invidious caricatures has worn off a little and you’re ready to start thinking critically again, think about this.
A concert is a place where people come to listen. Sound disruptions in such a context have to get special consideration. People can learn to tolerate sights and smells there but sounds can’t be partitioned off that way, they all come in the same ears. (Granted, there are always exceptions, such as fans and other relatively constant noises, but it’s very difficult to mask voices.) If someone can’t control the noises they make and they’re consistently loud enough to ruin the enjoyment of being there for a fair number of other people, that is a situation which is out of balance and needs to be remedied.
Since Brett brings up restaurants, imagine if a restaurant couldn’t eject a person who uncontrollably steals your food or vomits in it. Thankfully such disabilities don’t exist (do they?) but the hypothetical provides perspective on this other situation.
And why stop at people with disabilities? If involuntary action is the criterion for tolerance, let’s open the concert halls to babies and toddlers. How dare the adorable little scamps be the victims of discrimination! Let them cry their lungs out, make sure there’s one in each section of the Schnitz! (Note that the person in question at Charles’ concert was a child there with their parents.) After all, babies are human beings too, residents of our planet, and they need music too don’t they? Anybody who objects is a bigoted, intolerant monster!!
Well, I’ll see that supposed “intolerance” and raise it one “sentimentality” and “pity”. Feeling and thinking need to go together, always. Always.
“when… you’re ready to start thinking critically again”
I find it sad that just because you don’t agree with my opinion on Brett’s piece, you say I am not thinking critically. That’s actually pretty insulting, especially since you don’t know me and my brain 🙂 I was impressed with not only the content of Brett’s writing, but the style and presentation. I disagree with your sentiment that his comment was “demagoguery”. And…. I’m out. See ya.
You can be as sad as you like, but my judgement about your thinking is based on how impressed you were by Brett’s attempt at satire, not the fact we disagree. Nobody who listens to Faux News all day thinks there’s any demagoguery there either. If it was mere disagreement that brought me to that conclusion, I would have said so far earlier in the discussion.
I’ve noticed over the years that sometimes I’ll form an opinion and state it and hear dissenting opinions and still feel fine. Other times I’ll form an opinion and state it, and as soon as I hear or think of the counter-argument I feel sick. Usually those are the times when the opinion I’ve formed involves me making myself out to be more important than the people around me.
As a musician, I can completely imagine how distracting this must have been from the stage. As a frequent audience member, I can also understand how I might have felt annoyed and like I was being robbed of the concert experience I’d so anticipated.
On the other hand, this is also one of those situations where at the end of the day any strong points I might make to that effect would undoubtedly be accompanied by that awful feeling in my stomach. Really, the fact that I can get to a concert on my own, sit where I please, and have the control to stifle a cough that burns so badly that I tear up means I’m incredibly lucky. There are plenty of people who are disrespectful at concerts just because they don’t care, but there are also plenty who make noise because they can’t help it or weren’t fortunate enough to grow up attending concerts and learn the expectations.
To say people “can learn to tolerate” certain things, as though those with disabilities are to be tolerated… I must say, after reading that my stomach doesn’t feel so good. I’d much rather play for the young man at Charles’ concert than for someone sitting silently and judging the people around him for their seeming imperfections and misbehavior. Much more positive energy coming from the former.
I’m no saint– screaming kids at concerts can drive me nuts, and I’ve shot plenty of dirty looks at owners of ringing cell phones. But people can turn off their phones, and families with young children can attend the plethora of kids’ concerts that our arts organizations present. Where else is this man to go? If hearing live music isn’t considered a fundamental human right, I think it probably should be.
Thanks for the great post, Charles, and appreciation to those utilizing the comment section for civil discourse. Brett, I really enjoyed the Swift-esque writing.
I’m sorry that my use of the word “tolerate” in response to my worthy debating opponents’ use of “intolerant”, and which I used only referentially to help people who want to follow the entire discussion, upset your stomach. So upset that you then invoke the “judgmental” straw man in a burst of your own negative energy. No one is judging anything about the boy but the appropriateness of combining his sounds with Britten’s in a concert context.
I can’t help laughing over having my motives impugned from one word, when Brett and I just came to an understanding over my impugning his motives from hundreds of “Swiftesque” ones! I’m relieved, however to note that by your own example you consider snideness to be civil discourse. Surely you won’t object to this one little bit of mine.
Statistically, you know, you are not “lucky”, they are “unlucky”. Let us enjoy our wholeness / health, be thankful always, because that is indeed so precious, but don’t feel guilty about it. That doesn’t help or impress anybody.
i sincerely believe that how far you ran with this above is out of line. after all, why stop where you did? maybe take it to the next “logical” step of how some of “us” might really prefer that these annoying people be exterminated, huh? you see, simply getting rid of “them” entirely will mean that some of “us” won’t even have to be disturbed by the fact that “they” even exist.
oh, while trotting out absurd extrapolations, what about the memory-challenged serial candy unwrapper that simply can’t remember that they were previously shushed two minuets ago? when “should” this person be asked to leave?
sheesh, already!
Thanks, Alicia. I was basically doing Jonathan Swift’s Modest Proposal to show the logical extreme of the proposition that it’s OK to make one adult’s civil rights subject to another’s preferences. I think the principle of accommodation rather than exclusion enshrined in the Americans with Disabilities Act should guide us here, rather than reflexively resorting to exclusion. I applaud Charles’s compassionate thought process and the way he handled an unfortunate situation.
Bob, I think extermination is a little extreme, and it’s Portland so the wimpy liberals would probably raise objections. Sturdy bouncers and perhaps armed guards should be enough to prevent the Distractions from interfering with my enjoyment. Even shackles would probably be necessary only as a last resort.
Jeff, I’ve actually experienced similar situations to what Carolezoom describes from restaurant patrons who can’t abide seeing or hearing disabled people in their vicinity. A restaurant is a social as well gustatory experience, just like a concert is social as well as musical. The rules with kids are different: society and the law presume that parents are responsible for minors’ actions, so we’re right to ask the parents to take action when kids are being kids. But the idea of automatic exclusion propounded in comments here transcends the situation Charles encountered.
From what I’ve seen over and over in many situations since the ADA became law over two decades ago, including all sorts of performance spaces, it’s almost always possible to find a reasonable accommodation in these situations if people with disabilities are included in the discussions from the beginning, and if everyone starts from the position that the problem isn’t an adult who can’t control her/his noises; rather, the problem is how to anticipate such human needs and then work creatively to make it possible for everyone to enjoy the music.
I should add that I completely sympathize with Jeff and Bob’s understandable desire to hear performances without interruption; I listen to music for a living, and I can promise you I’ve had the same feelings of annoyance at noisemakers voluntary and non, and shushed my share of what former Willamette Week classical music writer Larry Fuchsberg called “cellophane terrorists.” I’m sure we’ve all had those thoughts, but there are some things — inclusion, civil rights — even more important than an ideal listening experience. But I firmly believe that, with a compassionate, creative, collaborative attitude, it’s almost always possible to achieve both.
To offer a different perspective I am one of the people who has been ejected from concerts because my ventilator makes a whooshing sound for 1.5 seconds every 6-10 seconds. it is not a loud sound, perhaps a little louder than the regular ambient noise in a concert hall, but it is regular and if i am to breathe, unavoidable. Many of you performers know me as an audience member, have commented to me about my presence and become educated about my situation as i attended countless concerts in Eugene and Portland from 1994 to 2010. I was a fixture in the music, art, theater and dance audience.
I do not talk, text or cough, unwrap cough drops or rustle programs during the program. I am educated in music, a donor to many PDX art and music groups, and appreciate music very well and highly despite the slight whoosh every 6-10 seconds. Anyone near me can also enjoy and appreciate the music fully even with he sound of my ventilator present. Truthfully most non disabled people are not used to hearing that sound and become bothered sitting near me without trying to acclimatize and most music aficionados are more concerned with their perfect concert experience than my right to be present in the music hall.
In my opinion, given that there are at least 196-1994 more seats for non disabled guests further away from me compared to the 4-6 ADA seats I am given the option to buy, the person offended by the slight sound of my ventilator should move him/herself to another available seat as I do not have that option to move.
I cannot speak to the issue you experienced with the young disabled man who was so moved by the music that he distracted others. Perhaps it was a formative moment in his life, imagine this might have been the first time for him and those around him to realize how profoundly he would react to music. Perhaps the first time anyone including he realized he has a passion. Perhaps this a his reaction to everything. We will no know unless someone asks _him_.
I have heard some of the backchat on other channels about this issue and I have been the person removed from the concert hall due to other people’s excessive reaction. We are not talking about a life and death situation here, it is a concert — a very important expression of music performed by humans for humans. But I can say without irony or overemphasis that denying access to community events can become a death of sorts for the person denied — let me assure you I know from experience.
Clearly there are larger societal issues at foot in this conversation and it is a worthy conversation. Assuming that you as an audience member, usher, or performer can surmise the relative value of one disabled concert goer vs all the other non disabled audience members, assuming that the perfect music experience is even possible with humans present, assuming … is a slippery slope.
hi carole!
thanx for your invaluable perspective on this delicate matter.
curiously, where do you personally draw the line on where “reasonable accommodation” ends & violation of one’s rights begins?
for example, i have been at several concerts in the past with you in the room & while i was initially a bit startled by the sound of your ventilator, i quickly grew accustomed to the “not loud,” “slight whoosh every 6-10 seconds.” however, if your machine began to seriously malfunction in a loud, incessant & obviously distracting manner, would or wouldn’t you take yourself to the lobby until said malfunction could be remedied? based on the thoughtful tone of your letter, i can readily imagine that you, too, can appreciate that what we are ultimately talking about here is a question of degree, pravda?
thanx/cheers,
bob priest
Hi Bob. Glad I “grew on ya!” Heehee
I’m sure where reasonable accommodation and “violation” of another’s rights has been litigated but I hope that we can do better than that in PDX. Reasonable alternative accommodations have to be available or the conversation is moot. Is there a cry-room or sound booth available for potentially loud people to rely on? Not anywhere I’ve seen in Eugene or Portland. Is there a closed circuit tv where a potentially distracting person could have a concert-like experience in public with others yet not derail? Not in PDX but yes at Oregon Shakespeare Festival (mostly for latecomers, but it would work).
Most public spaces are created with ambulatory nondisabled people in mind who are normative-sized and normative-behaviors. Those of us with a stake in this — performers and patrons — have to expand our thinking and demand powers that be expand our architecture to include a broader array of reality.
I grew up in the South. I’m raised genetically to be polite. So not only would I leave at the first sign of trouble (that I was causing) I also wrap a down jacket around the vent and turn off alarms before going to a concert.
But yes there has to be a reasonable person standard of some sort and as Brett said that standard has to be created by community dialogue that includes people with a variety of situations and backgrounds. And there will always be people who are exceptions, or want to be. And most of them won’t participate in this conversation. But we let the elderly cellophane terrorists stay because, honestly, they are the donors who allow the work to continue, so we let them slide.
There’s a small sound booth at the Newmark, as I discovered once when I just missed curtain time. But it really needs to be larger, and possibly also easier to get in and out of, for this purpose. At the risk of incurring a Brettian comparison to “separate but equal” :-), I think (a larger version of) this is a great idea.
Yes, I’ve watched a rehearsal from that booth at the Newmark, and though I’m not sure whether it’s intended for these situations (can someone enlighten us?), it seemed like it’d work great for this situation. IAs long as people with disabilities are able to attend the same performance, just in more appropriate seating, that doesn’t sound like separate but equal to me, but of course I can’t speak for someone who is told to sit there.
ok, now let’s take the very feasible example of someone objecting to being seated in what might feel to them like an “isolation chamber.”
tell me, how would you handle that situation?
Not sure where this post will end up on the page… trying to reply to Bob’s question about someone objecting to separate seating. Difficult to grapple with hypotheticals; presumably that person would be accustomed to this, but if not, I suppose I’d begin by asking her where she wanted to sit and going from there. But I don’t run a performance venue; how do Portland venue managers handle this situation, and has it ever come up?
yes, difficult to grapple with hypotheticals. but, since this topic has grown to such a huge & multi-faceted concern, something tells me we are all best advised to break out EVERY possible scenario we can & formulate a specific plan as to EXACTLY how each one will be handled, pravda?
Indeed, just taking this step to try to anticipate needs rather than react defensively or rudely to surprises is an important part of the accommodation approach. In almost any hypothetical, I imagine that beginning with actually ASKING the person involved (or, if unable to communicate, anyone accompanying her) what she wants rather than issuing blanket dictats or defaulting to ejection is a great place to start.
I should emphasize that I’m pretty sure the Newmark sound booth isn’t intended for this – for one thing, not only is the room small but the windows are high up. It’s probably intended for standing people. But not much would have to be changed for the idea to work as an “unquiet room”, especially in new construction.
hi carole!
thanx very much for your detailed reply. i essentially agree with all of it – especially the part about you being polite to those around you. i sincerely hope your standard of concert comportment will resonate strongly enuff with others that they will follow your exemplary model.
now, as far as the elderly cellophane terrorists with check books for miles goes, sorry, bobi bear won’t be cutting them any slack! :)))
cheers,
bp
This reminds me of an experience I had about ten years ago at the opera…there was someone in the balcony who unexpectedly began singing along with the music. It was clear that this was not an intentional disruption. What surprised me…really surprised me, and pleasantly so…was the frisson of sympathy among the people around me. The attendee was relocated, but I wouldn’t have minded much if he hadn’t been. I left a concert recently because the person sitting next to me smelled so awful that I thought I was going to throw up into my purse. But I wasn’t offended, and I didn’t feel as if my rights as a concertgoer had been infringed-upon. It’s also true that it’s extremely difficult to offend or upset me, so…I’m probably not a good test case. But I do know what my reaction would have been to the concert attendee Charles describes…gratitude that music, live music (which is not the same as listening alone at home) has the power to move people, even if in an unexpected way. The living alteration of the air that takes place during a live performance is quite different from even the best recording experienced at home. I’m grateful that the Arnica Quartet gave that experience to the young man spoken of in this piece. I’m not saying I don’t understand why others have differing views…I do understand it, and there are some things that I find unbearable as well. But…I feel that my level of tolerance is my responsibility. It’s not the responsibility of people around me to make me comfortable. If I were living in another country, manners and protocols would be very different…my expectations might be completely inappropriate. Expectations are cultural, situational, and therefore somewhat arbitrary. And so, knowing that, I feel that my expectations are my own, for me to manage. If I’m offended by something, I think it’s my responsibility to see to my own comfort, and ask to move, or leave, etc. I don’t expect other people to share this laid-back attitude, however.
My reaction is based on my decades of experience as a performer and concertgoer (I like the word “audient”.) I agree with Bob Priest’s first comment. If I read Mr. Noble’s description of events correctly, the quartet’s “volunteer audience participant” falls into the same category as an infant/toddler. When an infant is brought into any space, it is not a question of “If”, but “When” the child makes noise. In most settings, it’s just part of the atmosphere. In a concert hall, it is disruptive. Sorry, Progressive Parent, but by the time you whisk the offending noisemaker out to the lobby, the damage has been done. By all means, Progressive Parent, DO expose your children to fine music – at HOME, where the child’s natural reactions will not occur at the literal expense of performers and audients who can control their noises.
I think it’s easy to be very ideological here in the safety of an online comment area, when one is typing on their home computing device. But no one was willing to tell Carole, after she told her story, that she shouldn’t be allowed to attend live concerts. Why not? Where is the bravado? Where is the judgement? Please, be consistent, if you are so willing to throw your fellow citizens under the bus.
i hope you’re not including me here in this challenge to be consistent? but, in case you are, lemme please state very clearly that if carole’s ventilator malfuctioned in a hugely distracting & protracted manner, she would be asked to leave one of my concerts.
happily, such a measure wouldn’t be necessary as carole would take it upon herself to remedy any extreme disturbance she (her machine) was inadvertently creating.
Bob, maybe I’m reading you with an unintended tone… Seems to me if someone’s ventilator malfunctions there’s perhaps a larger problem at hand than a ruckus in the hall.
The phrase “cellophane terrorists” that you coined earlier is classic, though. And well said, Charles.
Thanks, Sarah, but I didn’t coin “cellophane terrorists”; that classic came from former Willamette Week classical music writer Larry Fuchsberg and unfortunately, I think of it often.
Brett
Love it, Brett! Great band name, too.
yes, potentially a larger problem, indeed. in the case of a dire emergency, OF COURSE that would take precedence over any & all other concerns. sorry if my tone even remotely suggested that i can’t appreciate such a distinction, after all, the entire basic stance i’ve tried to get across here is one of DEGREE.
for example, if it appeared that someone was having a heart attack in the hall, i would full-on STOP the concert.
Yes! By all means. I do welcome anyone who has been disturbed by my situation to speak up and I’ll hear and consider it in the context if this conversation. In my early days of concert-going with the ventilator I would have welcomed a sound separated area to sit in. Once I got the hang of batteries, bells and silencing or muffling the noise, I would have likely suggested another patron disturbed by me to go f(ck him/herself, I mean I would have politely suggested s/he go reseat him/herself further away. I wonder if y’all think it’s fair for someone to not want to be reseated?
This conversation is so frustrating (and important, I think)! I think this is exactly the reason the classical music world has trouble filling seats – this stuffy, rigid, made-up and nonsensical arrangement between the audience and the musicians. I’m not saying everybody should be partying in the aisles, but expecting the audience to enjoy in complete silence and attention is somewhat absurd – even a bit cruel. Most things are more enjoyable when you can relax and despite my love of classical music – I think too strict of rules actually hinders my experience. And when did people suddenly lose their capacity for compassion? I agree with Joan Rogers that typically if I feel uncomfortable I remove myself from the situation. (And usually I find that the reason I was uncomfortable or annoyed had nothing to do with the distraction, but with myself) I would have gone through the same thought process as Charles – there is a certain amount of annoyance and frustration with interruptions at first, but you can choose to make it a part of the experience and to enjoy that. How I wish I could scream out in excitement when I heard something I loved or just enjoy an extremely visceral reaction at the symphony! This is a really interesting and important conversation – I think. Kind of makes me want to have a concert that encourages uninhibited and lively reactions from the audience! Thanks to all of you for your comments and, honestly, for getting me a little riled up!
Indeed, you got so riled up that you missed a crucial distinction and demonized people who are different than you.
No one – NO ONE – on this blog has argued for “complete silence and attention”. I’m getting really tired of this cliched and invidious exaggeration, which serves primarily to make the people who use it look good relative to a pretty much non-existent group of people. You know, the ones made of straw.
A fairly low level of background noise is important for full enjoyment of classical music because it has a large dynamic range. It’s just as expressive and serious and worth listening to when it’s very soft as when it’s loud. Whether a disturbing noise is a child who can’t control their vocalizations or those damnable “cellophane terrorists”, the potential for damage to many people’s experience – people who themselves are every bit as sensitive and appreciative of the music as that child (or terrorist) – is the same, and no amount of fussing over the child’s supposed cuteness or bravery changes that.
Some people have a higher tolerance for disturbance than others. But just because someone has a lower tolerance for it than you, does not mean they “lost their capacity for compassion”! That is demonization pure and simple.
Regarding that booth at the rear of the main floor of the Newmark Theater: it is used to accommodate latecomers. Or at least it was in one particular instance when I arrived to a performance after it had begun; I was ushered into that room until I could take my assigned seat without creating a disturbance. From that experience, I can assure you that it is no place to have a true concert experience. The audio is pumped into the room via a tinny-sounding speaker. There is no standard seating. (There may be a few chairs stacked against a wall, but the room was obviously not designed to be used as alternative concert seating.) I wouldn’t ask anyone to experience a concert from this room.
The Aladdin Theater has a so-called “Cry Room” at the back of the balcony, but it is no longer used as a corral for noisy people. The glass has been removed and the theater sells those seats as they sell any other.
The church where my community orchestra performs has cry rooms, too — obviously, this is not an issue exclusive to musical performances. There are apparently people who prefer to worship in quietude, too.
Me, I sometimes deeply care about disturbances and I sometimes don’t. At Arnica’s performance I can say that while I was truly distracted I really didn’t care, and in fact I’ll go so far as to say that the noise made the experience richer for me. The places my mind went as I was hearing the music entwined with the moans… the concert experience became something larger than just me quietly listening to a beautiful string quartet. It transformed into something far more impactful and memorable.
My question is, who gets to be the arbiter? Who gets to say, “This art is for you, but it is not for YOU,” or “This art is meant to be performed under these exact conditions only”? Because when we talk about banning someone from a performance, or making him/her be reseated somewhere where the music is piped in or where the only experience of the performance is via a monitor, that’s what we’re doing.
I’m incredibly sensitive to the distractions of inconsiderate noise-makers in concert — I agree with all of you about the ‘cellophane terrorists’ (a hilariously wonderful term) — but I also feel very strongly that art is for everybody, and that in making it so precious and sanctified we are often also making it sterile and off-putting. I truly cannot imagine approaching this person in the Whitsell, while he was obviously having a visceral experience of the music, and forcing him to leave.
Thanks, Charles, for this post, and to all of you for this very interesting discussion.
“Arbiter”, “exact conditions”, special seating = banning, “precious”, “sanctified”, “sterile”, “off-putting”, whew! Such company of caricatures, such a fistful of demons!! I was going to say, if I had a match I could keep myself warm all night from the straw “arbiter” alone, but the cliches from hell would serve just as well.
On a more serious level, when you tell people whose experience of Britten is seriously damaged by the boy in question to continue to put up with it, then YOU are putting yourself in the shoes of the arbiter. You are the one telling those people, “this art is not for you”. And there’s a lot more of them.
There is no “art for everybody” in this particular situation, no matter what you happen to strongly feel. The experience was going to be bad for somebody. Having a sound booth is problematic in some ways as you say, but it does get closer to art for everybody, closer in fact than having the boy sit in amongst everybody else.
lots of intense back and forth here – sorry to have missed the performance – was a working day for many of us – regarding that, both concerts I recorded Sunday were chock full of audience noise, nothing new
as we all know, current recording industry standards call for pristine recordings & perfect performances – NPM released a CD of live orchestral performances some 10 years ago – fine (if less than perfect) performances, full of audience noise and led by a conductor who unconsciously signaled the anacrusis of every important downbeat with a pile-driver blow to his podium – efforts to make it more presentable took hours of editing – the toughest sort of editing, from one take only of each piece – nevertheless we had to, standards are so high
having said all that and read others weighing in on recordings, I would suggest this:
1. always remember that at public events of any kind, expect the unexpected
2. as some have suggested the unexpected can make for uniquely memorable experiences
3. seeking perfection? first reconsider, then try to find the best fixed-media version
a couple years ago I really wanted to attend the Seattle Symphony’s performance of Messiaen’s Turangaligla Symphony – one of my all time favorites – studied it intensely as a student – prior commitments made Seattle impossible – about that time I found this
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8PjyCpRKDrk
absolute sound quality aside (YouTube audio is pretty compressed like most internet streams, but even FM radio is modestly (peak-limit) compressed) – nevertheless, the above-cited movie is top shelf – way beyond typical YT – anyway, I have to wonder if a seat in Benaroya Hall would have afforded a more rewarding experience
BTW – anyone willing to hazard a guess as to how many cams were employed in shooting the above-cited Orchestre Philharmonique de Radio France, Myung-Whun Chung, 2008 performance? I’m still guessing
ah, yes, turangalila @ benaroya was a smash – this incredible piece is best experienced in person. here’s hoping that the OSO might mount it some day . . .
even though messiaen always noted as ozawa as his fave conductor, olly went on record (so to speak) with his opinion that chung’s recording of “t-rex” was the best.
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I’ve been a professional performer of classical music for 30+ years; I’ve been an audience member for rather longer than that. I’ll also say up front that I tend to be rather a Luddite in many ways, and am often given to reactions that could be filed under “you kids get off my lawn.”
Charles is absolutely right that our job, our mission, our hope, is to make a genuine connection with the individuals in our audience. It’s an incredible feeling to know that you’ve had a hand in bringing someone that experience. It seems clear that this was happening here, and that’s a wonderful thing. It’s also clear that the experience of everyone else in the room was altered by the presence of the sounds this individual was making.
I’ve been onstage when there was an individual using a ventilator in the audience, though I have no idea whether any measures were in place to mitigate the sound as described above. When the volume of the music was low enough, or when there was a pause, the sound was clearly audible throughout the entire concert hall. Changing seats would not have sufficed.
I find myself very conflicted about this issue. I want the beauty and wonder of live musical performance to be available for everyone, but as an audience member I want to be able to hear absolutely everything in the performance. I don’t think that’s unreasonable; I don’t think that makes me a bad person.