GETTING THE RIGHT KIT ON.........AND OFF
Symphonies of red roofs, hot sun shining down, two concerts in beautiful Prague, a late summer treat for us. (For the audience as well, I hope.) Actually, I was nursing a cold, and played the first concert through a feverish haze. But I'm not seeking sympathy, plenty of us were coughing and spluttering, as were the audience. Ilan even did a restart of the quiet opening of the scherzo of Beethoven 3 because of a massive cough from the audience, one of those tubercular coughs worthy of the dying – makes a change from the mobile phones anyway (though we also had a couple of those).
Talking about temperature.....we had to dig out our tails for this gig. We'd forgotten how hot and uncomfortable they are. Tails were designed for chaps to stand around looking ornamental and middle class (not to mention absolutely subservient to 'the system'); they were never designed for actually doing anything in, they took the coat off to play snooker after the port. Those of us who have to actually do things, vigorous things, in order to play the wonderful music for you, suffer the most. I want to instigate a new competition: for the grottiest bow tie. Us blokes had to coax these ties squealing from their hutches, where they had been licking their seeping sores since we were in South America last year. For tails to look better than a jokey amateur dramatic production, we would all need to have individually tailored suits made in appropriate cloth. And if we did that then someone would probably shove us into a large van and dump us in the costume gallery. Fortunately – none of us will ever be paid enough for that (when tails evolved there was no such thing as 'off the peg') – so we go on parade in an assortment of ill-fitting in-elegant tail suits. And alongside us.......the ladies, some in elegant, loose fitting evening black, others in basic barista black, and Ilan in his all purpose DJ and tie-less buttoned up shirt (whatever we are in) – what a jumble – but, I suppose, from a distance it all looks black and white-grey-yellow. Anyway, do we need to look like a load of identical mannequins in order to look smart? What arcane imperative is dictating that we, the blokes, not the girls, should all look identical? (That's a serious and far reaching question that I'm asking).
The concert hall, , is one of the great halls of the world. It's basically a cube; it has a special acoustic and is so elegant that it makes folk want to look good. The opening concert in 1885 was around the time tails were evolving, and old Archduke Rudi certainly encouraged conformity – do you remember my blog about Janacek and Taras Bulba? Our second concert was the last of the Prague Autumn series of international orchestras, and the audience looked appropriately 'expensive'. Lots of very stylish evening wear, not a DJ in sight and, surprise surprise, not one of the blokes in the audience turned out in a tail suit! However, the few who did turn up in sweat shirts probably didn't feel that they risked ostracism or being labelled as social renegades. Dungarees would have been better for us though, because we were stuffed into a couple of tiny changing rooms, 80 of us struggling, hot and sweaty with no access to pegs or chairs, in and out of our kit, jammed in so tightly that we couldn't all change at the same time if we wanted to, and, as on the last trip there, not even a paper towel in sight in the (tiny) wash-room. (Well, 'the system' requires that the workers are kept in their place, doesn't it?) Maybe I'm feeling extra grumpy because I was feeling so ill that I didn't get to go and indulge in feeling suicidal in Kafka's house. If that seems irrelevant, then you probably don't realise that Kafka was one of the great heroes who fought, and lost, the battle against mindless conformity.
Back to our elegant – with its very adequate changing facilities. We haven't 'solved' the dress code problem yet. Our black suits allow us some comfort and freedom of movement. What do you think about this dress code business? Let us know. I'm always conscious that some of you have handed over quite a wad for a pair or more of subscriptions to our concerts, and might be expecting some sort of reciprocation. But someone buying the cheapest seat for one concert is no less valued. If we do a nice one, they might buy a subscription next season and discover something wonderful about live classical music. Finding the right balance is difficult – between the objective and often lofty inspirational value of the music and the subjective need for a good 'show business' event.
If you've navigated this far into our website, then you will have waded past all the exciting news about Runnicles becoming our next chief conductor. Wade back, follow the link to and check out his kit. One of the pictures shows the impressive coat-jacket thingummy and bootlace tie that he wore for some of our concerts with him.......maybe we could all try the black cowboy hat.......
Anthony Sayer
