This composer’s mad as hell and he’s not going to take it anymore.  Sir Peter Maxwell Davies, composer to the Queen of England and one of the most venerable composers alive today, engaged in a public tirade after a chorus of ringtones took place at a London Sinfonietta concert last weekend.

Maxwell Davies called the perpetrators “artistic terrorists” engaging in “acts of vandalism” and suggested they should be fined.

At least he doesn’t propose water-boarding.

I understand his irritation – but equating sonic distractions at a concert with driving airplanes into skyscrapers is in poor taste, like the trend in American political discourse today which uses the term “Nazi” to describe anyone with whom one disagrees.

Sir Peter’s tantrum reminded me of a similar (though more understated) outburst by conductor Andreas Delfs at a Milwaukee Symphony concert years ago.  That was in the mid-90s during the digital watch beeper craze, when it seemed everyone’s watch just had to make a little chime on the hour.  In this case, “the hour” coincided with the quiet ending of a movement of one of the Beethoven symphonies.  Cue the watch-chime chorus!   The resulting cacophony shattered a powerful artistic moment. Delfs was furious, but he held his temper, turning around and politely but firmly asking all those who had “sinned” not to do so again.

My wife will tell you how surly I can become over another –involuntary and arguably more excusable – form of “audience participation”:  incessant coughing.   The satirical booklet A Musician’s Dictionary [Barber & Donald, published 1983 by Sound and Vision] defines the term “audience” as “a group of individuals who when afflicted with a cold go not to a doctor but to a concert – where they hack and wheeze to their heart’s content.”  My pet peeve is the person who waits until just before the end of a beautiful movement and then lets out a big juicy harrumph – couldn’t they have waited one or two more seconds?

Definitive solutions to the phlegm solo are elusive.  But unless Brits are just more wired than Tacomans, the cell phone chorus seems very easily silenced by a regular announcement such as we do before TSO concerts.  We work it in after the sponsor thank-yous and before the concertmaster tuning, and it works every time.  There should be no need to resort to water-boarding.

In Tacoma last December, a group of people at a sold-out Messiah concert clapped and cheered between every recitative and aria.  They were obviously happy to be there (though unfamiliar with concert etiquette), but the interruptions got on the nerves of some of the more seasoned listeners.  In this case, conductor Geoffrey Boers chose not to address the issue.  I agreed with him, feeling that it was an honest, heartfelt response that should not be dashed.  Afterwards, we had a lively discussion on this blog; some  suggested we should have nipped it in the bud, while others told them to “get over it.”

It’s all a balancing act, I think.  On the one hand, those of us who love and strive to share classical music must create a welcoming environment for the neophytes.  This is a concert hall, not a holy temple before which greater silence must be observed.  On the other, there are few places and occasions left in the world where one can concentrate, contemplate and deeply listen, and the concert hall should be one of them.

What do you think?  Was Sir Peter over the top?  Was Delfs right in calling the audience “sinners”?  Was Geoffrey overly tolerant last December?

Most importantly, can we create an environment at concerts that welcomes people from all walks of life and levels of experience – without sacrificing the needs of the seasoned listeners who are our bread and butter?