Bah! Humbug!

Nine top musicians reveal their concert hall pet hates

We all know the feeling. You’re sitting comfortably in your seat at a concert, wallowing blissfully in sublime Schubert or beguiling Brahms. And then it happens. The man in the seat next to you starts to beat in time. Or the loved-up couple in front decide it’s time to share a few pleasantries. Or, out of the corner your eye, you’ve clocked that someone has decided to whip their phone out of their pocket. Grrrr.

Of course, those on stage are completely oblivious to all these shenanigans, aren’t they? Such are their powers of concentration and love of the music that nothing can get between themselves, their instrument and the music itself. Actually, not so. ‘As performers, we do try to get “in the zone” as much as we can, but we’re only human!’ says pianist Kathryn Stott. ‘And some things are incredibly distracting, particularly over the course of a concert of 90 minutes or more. I once went to a beautiful recital by a brilliant pianist who, in quite an intimate setting, was being disturbed by an audience member who simply wouldn’t stop shuffling around. If the look of the pianist could have killed, that audience member would be no longer with us.’

So what are the concert-hall experiences that really tip performers over the edge? From greenroom gripes to the trials of trying to get home, here are some choice examples…

Lucy Parham pianist

I have to begin by mentioning backstage conditions. Everyone thinks that backstage is so

glamorous, but it really isn’t. Often there aren’t any coat-hangers for my dress or anywhere to lie down, and I was once even asked to provide my own health and safety certificate in order to use a power point. As for when I’m then on stage… I think it’s important for children to go to concerts, I really do. But often the chairs are too big for them, so if they’re sitting in the front row, they tend to swing their legs when they get bored. In smaller venues, they can be just feet away from you, and if you’re in the middle of a difficult piece of Liszt, arms flying everywhere, it’s a real visual distraction. I once saw a little boy make a paper aeroplane from the programme and start throwing it around!

Lucy Schaufer mezzo-soprano

There’s a fad these days for staging concerts in unlikely venues – all very hip, outside the box and ‘aren’t we cool’. That’s fine, except that most of them have nowhere for performers to go to the loo. As a singer, you drink loads and loads of water in preparation for a concert, and then discover there is nowhere to relieve oneself.

And so, you then have to run round the block, wearing your heels (and, if it’s cold, long johns), trying to find a friendly pub or tearoom nearby that says it’s OK to use their toilet. Often, lovely old churches that have not had the resources to upgrade their facilities present the same problem. It’s fine for men, who can find a discreet bush nearby, but female performers don’t have that option.

Peter Donohoe pianist

I’ve always had a slight problem with programme notes, particularly those which tell the audience what to think about the music before they even start to listen. In my concerts I like to make sure the light is so poor that nobody can read. But then, I suppose they could shine their mobile phone on it. And that brings me onto my second gripe: phones going off in a concert can be unbelievably irritating. On one occasion, a phone went off right near the beginning of a recital; it kept on ringing and ringing and, eventually, I stopped and indicated that something should be done. The guy actually took the call! Phones that go off at the beginning of the second half are also particularly irritating, because that means

‘‘I once saw a little boy make a paper aeroplane from the programme booklet and start throwing it around! ’’

When I perform in a concert I wear ear plugs and nothing can disturb me at all

they turned them on in the interval and there was no announcement to remind them to turn them off again.

Julian Bliss clarinettist

When I’m on stage these days I use an ipad to read the music, and during one concert a notification appeared on my screen in front of the notes. It was someone from the audience attempting to send me a photo they’d just taken of me while I was playing! So now I at least know to turn off my Bluetooth before I do a concert. It really annoys me that people actually record concerts through their phones these days. They watch the screen, rather than taking it in in real life. Plus, as musicians you always want to put out the very best quality you can, but the sound quality on phone recordings isn’t nearly as good as a real recording.

Mahan Esfahani harpsichordist

I’m fazed by very little in concerts. But if there’s someone in the front row whose legs are jiggling or they’re tapping on their face – and it’s inevitably out of rhythm – it drives me up the wall. I always request almost total darkness in the hall because I actually don’t want to see the audience. When I talk to them from the stage, I do look into their faces, but when it’s performance time, everyone needs to be in ‘receive’ mode. But it’s not always about audience members. I once played at the Brighton Pavilion, and in the final five variations of Bach’s Goldbergs, in the last 20 minutes of the piece, someone’s car alarm went off and, because it was rhythmic, it drove me nuts!

Alban Gerhardt cellist

When I perform in recital, I wear earplugs and nothing can disturb me at all. If I then close my eyes, I’m in my own world, which allows me to connect with the music even more. When I need to use a score onstage, however, I have to put my contact lenses in, which means I can then see all the faces in the hall. This is where the problems start. You can see when they’re looking bored, for instance, which is quite distressing because you can see you’re doing something wrong. Or, in contrast, if they’re looking as if they’re really into it, then I feel the pressure that I mustn’t disappoint them. My wife once suggested I should get laser eye surgery, but I immediately refused because I love that hazy feeling onstage when I can’t see clearly who’s in the audience. Kathryn Stott pianist

Coughing can be a real irritation, either when people go for it at the top of their lungs or, just as bad, try and do something about it. Yes, I do of course sympathise when concert-goers find they have an annoying tickly throat – we’ve all been there. However, by trying to unwrap a cough sweet as softly and delicately as possible, they usually take ten times as long as they would if just doing it normally. Just unwrap it and get on with it! Even worse is when they’ve come to the concert with their belongings in a plastic bag. I can then see and hear them, inevitably on the front row, rummaging around for their sweet among all their other possessions – programmes, keys or whatever – rattling and rustling away. Steven Isserlis cellist

I really appreciate it when audience members say nice things to me after concerts, but it’s less than inspiring when they stand there and just say ‘good job’. One pours one’s heart and soul into a performance, and it’s not just a job, is it? Equally, people can say really silly things about music and think they’re being intelligent. Sometimes people say they don’t like the piece I’ve just played, which doesn’t go down too well with me either – if I play a piece, it’s because I love it. I’ve also seen some people on Twitter write negative comments about a concert and then tag the artist. If you seek out Youtube comments, then that’s on you, but when you’re tagged in it, it’s infuriating.

Julian Lloyd Webber cellist

The one thing I don’t miss about playing the cello in public is travelling with it. When I go to an airport now it’s such a huge relief not to have to have arguments with an airline about taking my cello on board. It used to be so rare that everything ran smoothly. Every single trip, even if I’d paid for the seats, there was something wrong. One time, a stewardess said to me, ‘you can’t bring that on here; if we let you take it on, the next passenger will want to bring a grand piano.’ It was just absurd. So I advise any reader: if you see a cellist checking in, never stand in the same queue because you’ll be there for hours.