Whenever I’m teaching kids about concert etiquette, I always tell this story:
I was performing with my string quartet back in the spring of 2001 (my senior year at Lincoln High). Usually, our quartet plays background music, but this was an actual performance, where we played and people sat there and listened to us. Already there was some extra pressure to play well… not to mention the fact that the closest audience members were mere feet away from us.
My skill level as a violist at this point in my life was very mediocre. Some of the music we were performing was a challenge for me, especially one of the movements of Bach’s Brandenburg #1, in which the viola plays a tricky, exposed part. I could feel my cheeks growing warm as I stumbled through the movement. In my peripheral vision, I could see one of the men seated closest to me whispering to his wife. After a few moments of whispering, they both stopped and looked at me, then went back to talking. This happened a few times, and I knew they were talking about how terribly I was playing. I had a knot in my stomach for the rest of the performance, and I felt like I had no business playing my instrument in public.
After our quartet played, we began packing up our equipment. I had a sinking feeling as I saw the talkative man from the audience approach me.
“I didn’t know we were in the presence of royalty,” he said.
“…What?” I asked, trying to figure out if that was some sort of insult.
“Didn’t you play the part of the queen in Lincoln High’s musical?”
“…Wha– oh, yes! Yes, that was me.”
“I thought so! I told my wife, but she wasn’t sure. I wanted to come over and see for myself. That was a great show!…”
And the conversation continued from there. He was highly complimentary of my performance in the musical, as well as my performance in the string quartet.
So when I’m talking to my students, I tell them that even if you’re saying something good… or even if you’re not talking about the performer at all… you *may not talk* as an audience member.
