This has been an amazing year for concerts. I'm quite fortunate to have been in Montreal, where all the action happens. In February I saw Children of Bodom for the first time; September brought Kamelot and my fourth Nightwish concert (second time meeting the band, and, as fate would have it, one of the last concerts with their now ex-singer); last weekend I saw Wintersun, whom I never thought I would see; Tangerine Dream in June was a throwback to my childhood (and some of my first exposure to electronic music); I got to see the Robert Flood Octet throw down their debut show in November; and two of my favourite gaming franchises came to town with Symphony of the Goddesses (Legend of Zelda) and Distant Worlds: Music from Final Fantasy.
They were all unique experiences, and it got me thinking about a lot of different things. One aspect of the concert experience stuck out in particular: the role of the audience. It sounds a bit odd at first, as one does not usually think about the listeners having a "role" at a live performance. Now, the role of the audience has shifted a lot over time, and perhaps it seems odd that the audience might be considered in a concert setting because many of us have now grown up with our primary role as listeners being simply The Observer. It's much cheaper and easier to listen to an album at home (and geographical location has a huge influence on who you'll be able to see in concert). In fact, if you have your headphones on, you are literally the only audience member at that point. We have no interaction with a live setting: we can't see the performer(s), we aren't affected by sitting right in front of the orchestra/speaker or by being too far away/in a dead zone, and this particular listening is now an artifact--it has been months or years since it happened, in another room (or rooms), another country, the artist could be dead, there might be five layers that were recorded on different days.
This type of listening experience differs greatly from the days gone by. Before recorded audio, when you went to a concert you were probably hearing the music for the first time, and there's a good chance you wouldn't hear it again. Now--particularly with rock music--there'a an album release often several months before touring so that fans have a chance to get to know the music before the show. And even then, bands rarely play more than three new songs on tour because everyone wants to hear what they're familiar with. That's an interesting idea to me. Why are we so uncomfortable listening to new music? Are we afraid it's going to be bad? How does it differ from going to a concert where they play something you've heard before that you don't like?
Though I generally like processing new music on my own, I'm not opposed to hearing it in a concert setting. However, I have noticed that I tend to receive it in different ways depending on what it is. For instance, both the Tangerine Dream and Robert Flood Octet shows were about 90% music I'd never heard before. But there was something about the setting where I felt like I didn't need to know it, and I was okay just sitting back and hearing it, knowing I probably wouldn't be able to hum the tunes after the show. In those cases, I really felt like it was more the experience of being at a live show that was important. The Wintersun concert was a little different. It was about half old material and half from their new album, which, unfortunately, I have not had the chance to hear yet. I won't say that I wasn't there for the experience (I was), but I felt a big shift in the way I experienced the concert as they played songs I knew and those that I didn't. As it was a rock concert, I was free to sing along and move about in time with the music. But when they started playing something I didn't know, it was like shifting from rehearsal to improvisation. I had to take cues from the audience members who knew the songs and the band (can I cheer on every beat for this section, or is the feeling really on every other beat?). I could "rock out" to the new music, but I had to pay constant attention to where the music was going.
I have a bit of a love-hate relationship with rock concerts. My main purpose is to go and experience the show, and hear the music. So far, Nightwish has provided me with the best concert-going experience. I can sing and dance and let the music flow through me, without the insanity of mosh pits that are often found at metal concerts. Nothing takes me out of the moment more than being pushed around, kicked in the back of the head and having wild hair whipped in my face. Some people really love going to concerts to mosh and crowd surf, or drink or get high, and I will never understand that because the music is always the most important thing about the concert to me.
The two video game-based concerts I went to were very interesting. At their base, they are already a hybrid, a meeting between the symphony and "high art," and "popular" multi-media entertainment. This creates a curious atmosphere because the setting to an unknowing observer would appear to be that of a typical symphonic concert, but the audience's energy level is so much higher. Classical musicians are often frustrated by the lay community clapping between movements or making any kind of sound above and beyond polite applause. I understand why you would want to maintain silence between movements, but I can also appreciate that some people are very excited and moved by the music and want to show their support and approval. However, I think we can draw the line clearly on some points. For instance, it felt very obtrusive when during the opening notes of Aerith's Theme applause broke out. During the final piece, credits rolled on the screen behind the orchestra, and people clapped and whistled on and off as various names came up. I can't say it's wrong to do this because I know I'm excited to be there and be a part of it, but when it interferes with the music, I find it hard to reconcile.
I suppose the question should be asked: Does the audience need to know what's going on? In any given concert setting, very few listeners will be professional or educated musicians. So if most of the audience is made up of non-musicians, who may or may not attend many concerts, can they be expected to know the "rules?" Can they be blamed if they can't clap in time? Will they even know where the end of the piece is? I went to a concert this year where they played the Kyrie from Mozart's Requiem. Near the end, the chorus builds to a high point and climaxes on a diminished seventh chord (for reference, see this clip which starts at 2:10; the chord of interest is at 2:25). Now, it was probably Mozart's intention to lead everyone to this climax, thinking it's the end. But once you hear the chord, even without musical training it's likely you will find it uncharacteristic on an ending. However, at this particular show, as soon as they hit that chord, the audience broke out into thunderous applause, and it was all I could do keep from laughing aloud at the absurdity. It wasn't so much "haha, I know about music, and this isn't the tonic chord" as it was "these people have stopped being active listening participants." I think it's unlikely many of them were actually listening to the piece at that point, but were responding to the stimulus that a big, loud, held chord means the end of the piece, and now I applaud. If people aren't listening to the music anymore, that worries me.
And maybe that's why new music isn't played as often. If no one's listening, it's not really worth it, is it? So I think in one way, active participation as an audience is a good way to keep people engaged and listening. That was something I really noticed at the RFO gig, and most of the rock concerts I attend. Especially with solos, you can see and feel an immediate reaction. I don't see this trend being passed into "classical" music settings for various reasons, but mostly because of the difference in sound levels. No matter how many people are at a rock concert, you're not really going to drown out the band if you cheer after a solo; at a jazz show, the setting is much more intimate, so there are fewer people, and chances are the instruments will be amplified anyway.
One final thought about my experience at the Symphony of the Goddesses and Distant Worlds concerts. Both shows used a large screen behind the orchestra to synchronise game footage with the music. I think the Zelda show did a much better job with creating a real harmony between the music and video, but in both cases I found myself spending far more time looking at the screen than at the musicians. In that respect I was a bit disappointed because I felt I lost some of the experience by spending time with the screen rather than sharing that interaction with the performers. On the other hand, having the display helped to ease some of the discomfort I experience watching a live performance--my own fear of screwing up in a public concert manifests itself physically, and I have to constantly remind myself they're professionals and much better at a) not screwing up, and b) dealing with unexpected mishaps than me.
