Concert Audiences in Mexico City
Recently, a friend
and I went to hear the Orquesta
Filamamónica de la UNAM. But while that abbreviation stands for National Autonomous University of Mexico,
the orchestra is not a student ensemble but a full-size symphony orchestra made
up of professional musicians. They perform regularly in the Sala
Nezahuacóyotl on the university’s campus, a large modern concert hall with
excellent aoustics, seating listeners not only on a sizeable bank of rows
sloping down to the stage, but also in substantial rows rising upwards from the
entering level on the left and right and center, plus a substantial bank quite
high behind the orchestra. While on a previous visit to the hall, that last set
of seats was filled by the chorus that sang Schoenberg’s Gurre Lieder, this time those rows were fully occupied by audience,
as were all the seats in all directions, making a large house sold out, as far
as I could tell. Not that this enriched the university, since the tickets cost
between $5.50 and $13, not to mention those of us who had free passes secured
from a friend who is a member of the orchestra.
It was
a nice program, if not a particularly adventurous one, opening with the Brahms
Haydn variations, followed by Rachmaninoff’s take on that Paganini caprice, competently
played by a Korean pianist. The work after the intermission was Dvorak’s New World Symphony, now numbered ninth,
though in my younger years it was just number 5. But while that numbering
change acknowledges the existence of earlier works, alas, that recognition is
about all that the composer gets out of this change. None of those earlier
works seem to get performed. Some of us who agitate now and then to have
orchestras perform works by composers that tend to be neglected altogether,
might also put in a word for music that is rarely, if ever, to be found on
concert programs, while other works by their composers are played again and
again. The fact is that vastly more worthwhile music has been written than can
be programmed on any finite set of concerts.
My
friends at the Pittsburgh Symphony would turn green with envy if they saw the
packed houses at Mexico City’s orchestras. Yes, the plural is correct: there
are three additional ones, all putting on regular seasons. I’ve attended
concerts of two of the others, and frequently that of the Orquesta Sinfònica Nacional (OSN) of which my daughter Eleanor has
been principal clarinet since 1990. The orchestra plays in the Palacio des
Bellas Artes, a French-inspired edifice built in fits and starts early-ish in
the 20th century. If the envy were focused on the number of concert
goers, it would of course be misplaced, given that Mexico City at nine million
is about thirty times more populous than the city where, at more than five
hundred feet, the Cathedral of Learning harbors a significant chunk of the
University of Pittsburgh.
What
they would—or should—envy is the composition of that audience. They don’t look
like the audiences we see in the States: they are not the oldies without whose
patronage most American orchestras would have to fold. Rather, they are of all
ages, indeed, more younger than older. While they clearly care about their
appearance—a mark of this capital city—that does not call for formality in
dress, even less for men than for women.
I asked
my friend and companion, what accounts for this broad participation as
audience. I did not expect the answer I was given. No, it was not music
education in the public schools—about which he was not very enthusiastic.
Rather, was his answer, it is that
kids from a young age on are simply exposed to music, by having a variety of
groups perform mini-concerts with students of all ages being the audience.
For me
that was quite a revelation. I had never separated in my mind education and
exposure, mostly by focusing on the tasks of education and taking exposure for
granted. But when you think of it, there is quite a difference between the
two. One can learn a great deal
about music—and I would spell out some of that except I am afraid of boring my
readers—without ever being “exposed” (there is that word again) to particular
works. And even when you are brought to listen (via recordings) to a selected
set of works of music, it may well be, in this “educational” context, that the
point of listening is to be able to identify important compositions in the
repertory: that’s the Eroica, now
comes the Jupiter and this is the Symphonie fantastique. Nothing at all
wrong with doing that; but it’s work of sorts that has a goal beyond just
listening; it is not the same as “exposure” that merely asks you to listen and,
one hopes, to enjoy what is to be heard.
I can
easily see that if kids are in this way “exposed” to music, repeatedly and from
early on, that they come to think of the experience as part of their lives—at
least for a healthy fraction of those listeners—a role they will want to
continue to enjoy, beyond their schooling. One way they can do that is by
attending, often or now and then, concerts by one of the several orchestras
readily accessible in their city. It’s a plausible story.
There
is very little difference between this Filarmonica
de la Unam experience and my frequent attendance of concerts by the OSN in
Bellas Artes, a building that is a splendid take-off of a major French concert
hall. The atmosphere there is a
bit more formal, but not by much.
Groups of late adolescents in jeans come every time; super well-behaved!
As for the rest of the audience, I’ll simply say that I see more men wearing
ties, but not as many as on half of them in the audience.
As far
as I can tell, the audiences I have observed here seem truly representative, in
their age distribution, of the general population. In that way they differ
quite sharply from American concert audiences which are notably skewed toward
the older portion of the population. I’ll hesitantly account for that by citing
three traits to be found in Mexico and to a much lesser degree, if at all, in
the US. First, attending concerts in this city is vastly cheaper than it is
north of the border—a situation that depends in turn on the fact that in Mexico
most of the musical organizations are funded by one arm or another of the
state, while their American counterparts largely depend on private funding. As
a result, almost anyone—certainly any member of the middle class—can afford to
attend. Second, the apparently wide-spread practice of exposing impressionable
youngsters to repeated experiences of classical music inculcates in a fraction
of them the desire to listen to such music in their lives after school. Third
and most important is the belief, widespread though far from universal, that an
appreciation of music is a component of living a civilized life. That this
cultural trait distinguishes Mexico from the United States, at least in degree and
why that should be so is a topic for another time.