We all need approval. The need begins in childhood and continues throughout our lives. Approval takes many forms: a smile, a nod, a warm handshake, an attentive manner—all are affirming. Indeed, an essential part of love is affirmation of each other.
I am concerned, however, about how today’s audiences express approval of a performer and a performance with what seems to be routine applause. Applause has become corrupted; it often lacks genuine meaning. Instead, modern applause often is:
• Automatic and stereotyped. At vocal recitals, for example, applause greets the singer when he or she appears on the stage and after each group of numbers, after which the performer leaves the stage briefly, then receives more applause upon returning to the stage, and on and on to the conclusion of the recital, when there is likely to be thunderous applause, perhaps a standing ovation, and at my university’s school of music, shouting, whistling and foot stamping.
I find all this noise is an expected routine that often lacks sincerity. In this country, even a poor performance can be greeted with applause. I recall a recital by a once-great keyboardist who was embarrassingly past his prime. His halting performance was marked by pauses, gaps, and restarts—but he received applause and a standing ovation. Was this kindness? Or did it conceal a truth that the performer, in his odyssey through age and decline, should acknowledge?
• Uninformed. We have all experienced applause at the wrong time: between movements of a concerto, or before the end of a piece, or silence at the conclusion of an unfamiliar work (until the performers give a hint that: “Now it is time to applaud”). Once inappropriate applause starts, however, many in the audience feel compelled to join in this embarrassing display.
• Inappropriate for the setting. Shouting, whistling, and foot stamping are fine for a rock concert, but I question whether they are appropriate in a classical music hall. I recall one memorable experience, a church performance of Messiah. In keeping with the setting, the audience was asked not to applaud. At the end of the performance, we all sat in silence, experiencing the beauty of the performance without any further response. For me, and I sensed for many others, it was a spiritual “peak experience.” Nothing more in the way of public recognition was needed.
Were the soloists, orchestra, and choir diminished by that silence? I don’t think so. I suspect they, too, were immersed in the beauty of their performance, and knew intuitively what they had created. I am sure you have been at performances of such excellence that everyone sat in appreciative silence at the conclusion—until, that is, custom dictated applause.
By contrast, a Sept. 11-memorial performance of Mozart’s Requiem—certainly a time for quiet reflection—was followed by thunderous applause, shouting, and an immediate standing ovation. I felt the occasion was one for quiet reflection.
The Standing Ovation
At one time, the standing ovation was a rarity, reserved for a truly outstanding performance. But today every politician (“I present the next congressman …”), every public figure, anyone able to draw an audience, is likely to receive a standing ovation.
It takes only one person to start this ridiculous process—and like many social routines, the standing ovation rarely indicates genuine regard.
What will be the next stage of approval? Given the American philosophy of excess that “more is better,” I suspect ever more exuberant forms of approval will emerge—perhaps standing on chairs, blowing on whistles, beating on small drums, and shooting off fireworks.
How essential is applause to the performer? Just how important should applause be when the audience often is just “going through the motions”? Who knows better the quality of the performance than the performer, or a few trusted friends and teachers who provide honest feedback?
The Educated Audience
Is there any simple answer to the question of how to express genuine, meaningful approval? Certainly, the recital hall or concert auditorium should not be a somber venue—it should be alive with enthusiasm; and there are times when a performance elicits a spontaneous display of exuberance. But this is meaningful only if it is not a stereotyped, routine response.
One answer might involve educating the audience. Recently, for example, at another Messiah performance, the audience applauded after each aria. After intermission, the conductor gently and tactfully suggested that the second half was “especially dramatic and spiritual,” and that applause might detract from the beauty of what was to come. Similarly, at a recent performance by Collegium Musicum, a choral group at the University of Arizona in Tucson, the many brief pieces were grouped, and an asterisk on the printed program suggested the end of each group would be the appropriate time to applaud.
Other avenues for meaningful approval include a handwritten note of appreciation to the performer, or a contribution to the school for financial assistance or even a scholarship for the student. One woman of means established a yearly voice competition, with meaningful prizes, as her way of expressing encouragement.
Originally a genuine show of sincere appreciation, applause has become rather an act of “pseudo” support. At that next concert, before we put our hands together in a Pavlovian response, let’s stop and think about the best and most appropriate way to express appreciation for the music.
Editor’s Note: If you have a reaction—positive or negative—to the experience of genuine or “pseudo” support, or suggestions for innovative ways to express appreciation, we’d love to hear about it at editorial@classicalsinger.com.
