Time for a Laugh…

Look around the world of the Arts these days and it’s a pretty depressing mess. I could hop on that bandwagon (as usual) or perhaps take a hard left turn and provide some much needed amusement for a Tuesday morning. Survey says…….

I’ve thought long and hard about disseminating what I’m about to put out onto the WWW.  My Board chair is going to have fits, and I can just hear our Executive Director banging her head against a wall.  But folks, sometimes you have just got to throw the stuff out there.  Let me set the stage for you:

At the Edmonton Symphony Orchestra we regularly solicit email feedback from our patrons.  I read all of it, as does the rest of senior management and a good chunk of junior.  It’s important to do so, and if an email requires an answer we give one.  Every once and a while we get one of THOSE emails.  This one became an instant classic and will go down in history as one of the great emails received by any orchestra.  This arrived in the ESO inbox shortly after a wonderful concert with the fabulous violinist Karen Gomyo. Our home, the fabulous Winspear Centre for Music, has a “Crying Room” for patrons, as do many of the modern halls, so folks with small children (or whatever other issue) may enjoy our concerts without feeling disruptive to the rest of the audience. Little did I know how interesting life in the Crying Room can get, or how entertaining the opening piece on the concert, the great 88th Symphony of FJ Haydn, really was……

As the lone season ticket holder in the Winspear Crying Room, I feel I must pass on my concern about the questionable conduct of my fellow concert patrons.

Last Saturday evening, I arrived promptly at my usual time of 8:10 pm and took my regular seat in the back row of the crying room, settling in for an evening of Bartok and Stravinsky goodness. What occurred instead has left me traumatized and in need of what will doubtless be many months of recuperative musical therapy.

As the Haydn began, a couple in their late 50s seated in the row directly in front of me began making out, obviously aroused by the sight of Maestro Eddins shaking his sexy money-maker. While poor form for the high standards we have set for the crying room, I ignored them as best I could and tried to focus on the performance. Unfortunately, by the end of the third movement the pair had reached fourth base and I’m afraid to the report that by the end of the Allegro con spirito, the Haydn wasn’t the only thing reaching a climax.

I will never again be able to listen to Symphony No. 88 again without feeling unwell. I may even go blind as a result.

I insist that the ESO remedy this at once by appointing a chaperone for the crying room, as well as erecting a barrier for the lower half of the conductors podium to prevent other patrons from reaching a fevered pitch of arousal. If this is not possible then perhaps piping the soundtrack to “Debbie Does Dvorak” into the crying room instead of what’s happening on stage may be more appropriate.

Blind I tells ya.

Regards,