I adore Bartók’s Bluebeard’s Castle. That a recent performance of the work was ruined by the persistent shushing by a nearby audience member is therefore a source of resentment. The shusher’s victim was a boy excitedly whispering to his mother. Personally, I found it encouraging to see a child so thrilled by this tale of marital murder! Could this indicate a bright future for live classical music? Clearly, Mrs Shush didn’t agree. Her tangible irritation soon infected me, although in my case it was directed at her. Live performance is a dialogue between performer and audience. In systematically culling any sort of immediate and instinctive response, the culture of classical music has silenced what is most sacred to live performance.
Two days later, I attended New Material Night at a stand-up comedy club. Six accomplished comedians braved their reputations with new jokes for an increasingly drunk audience whose reactions would dictate whether the material would be cut from or reused in future routines. A heavy, braided rope was hanging from the stage ceiling. The comedians would pull it when they resorted to some tried and tested zingers, making the audience aware of their vulnerability in the moment. It suddenly struck me that stand-up comedy could offer an answer to my concerns about live classical music.