An ode to digital joy

Beethoven’s Ninth was performed at the Proms tonight and televised on BBC 4. Sort of. I thought I would tune in—not least since the orchestra was the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra which plays at the heart of the challenging Tectonics festival each year in Glasgow. But something was wrong. The picture was a pyschedelic mash, and the sound was continually interrupted. It seems a bit of bad weather can impact the delivery of the digital wonderland. Hence I turned off the TV sound and tuned into Radio 3 which was simultaneously broadcasting the concert. This resulted in the sound being two seconds ahead of the picture. At first I thought the conductor (who looked like a youthful Stewart Lee) was over-performing at the end of each movement, and it was hard to understand why the timpani made no sound whilst the performer was still drumming away. But none of this discombobulation could distract from the music of course. In fact, if I have to express annoyance (yes I do), it is about the audience's now de rigueur  clapping between movements. It’s like the crowd is duty bound to insert itself into the music, to let itself know it was there, like some collective selfie lunged into an artwork. Sometimes surely a sense of awe might be better expressed in total—perhaps stunned—silence? But no, whooping and hollering is now the norm. I don’t know. Perhaps early 19th century audiences applauded whenever they pleased, and they I imagine would be drawn from a rather less varied bunch of people. Going back a bit further I suspect Regency audiences were quite boisterous. Perhaps my taste for classical music, largely drawn from a non-live, recorded experience tends towards quiet appreciation. I suppose I’m just a prissy snob when it comes to classical music. (I was rather pleased with myself the other day, turning on Radio 3 at 5.45am to pass a test I set myself each morning. Coming in halfway through a piece of music can I identify the composer? It was an obscure piano piece. I thought Ravel. I was right. Apart from Bolero, nobody’s heard of Ravel. There you are. I’m a snob. Having said that, if they’re playing something from the 19th century which isn’t always immediately recognisable I just assume it’s Brahms and more often than not I’m right.) In these ways we amuse ourselves, or should I say in this way I amuse myself. 

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