If you've ever attended a classical music performance, you've probably noticed that there is a fairly complex set of rules that knowledgeable music lovers practice by instinct. For the wealthy and cultured, these rituals are learned at an early age, like sailing, investing in tax shelters, and eating caviar without accidentally snorting it up your nose. Until now, these societal laws have been unwritten, passed down to each generation like the secret recipe for Grey Poupon® or how to tie a proper bow tie. Until now that is - I'm writing 'em down.

Rule 1 - No snacks are necessary
When my wife and I began dating, we planned a double date with some friends to attend the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, who were performing a classic work by a dead guy whose name starts with an "M." Not Mozart - the other guy. 

Anyway, I thought it would be a good idea to get some snacks for the performance. After all, this is always a good thing to do prior to going to the movies - a box of Dots at the grocery store costs only 99 cents compared to $3.75 at the concession stand. Karie, my future wife, watched in horror as I loaded my coat with jumbo boxes of Milk Duds, Goobers, Junior Mints, and Dots. 

The candy helps keep you awake during the performance, I found. However, the looks of revulsion from fellow concert goers taught me an important lesson: never pound on a box of Dots to get the last red one unstuck during the Adagio (Latin for "sleep-inducing") movement. 

Rule 2 - Don't clap excessively
We Americans love to clap. I'm not sure why - personally, clapping makes my hands hurt. I prefer yelling Ay-yi-yi! or drinking beer to show my appreciation.

A typical classical music symphony, preferably written by a dead European or Russian guy, consists of three to nineteen movements. These movements are each part of a whole, similar to all of the songs on Pink Floyd's The Wall. The touching story of The Wall takes you through the childhood and career of an alienated rock star who writes poetry, buys a lot of guitars and finally goes insane.

Just like The Wall, classical symphonies are stories, and each movement is a chapter that introduces plot, mood, characters, and occasionally small elves. For instance, Vivaldi's string concerto "The Four Seasons" celebrates his love for salt, pepper, ketchup, and Wostershire sauce. Beethoven's Ninth Symphony is actually a tribute to "Mr. Toad's Wild Ride" at Disneyland, which was well known to be Ludwig's all-time favorite (tragically, he died just days before the opening of Space Mountain).

Back to clapping. If you went to see Pink Floyd perform The Wall, it would be appropriate to clap between each song - indeed, if it was a really good song like "Another Brick Part II," you could hold up your lighter as part of a vast smokers' tribute in addition to clapping and shouting "Woo!" However, when you go to see an orchestra perform "Fire Works" by Georg Frederick Handel, which features three movements (Une Sparklers, Duex Bottle Rockets, and Trois L'Cherry Bomb), it is not appropriate to clap, make satanic signs, or yell "Free Bird!" between movements. 

It just isn't done. 

A simple rule of thumb: wait until the performance is completely over and you are back in your car. Then clap.

Rule 3 - Coughing
This might seem like a no brainer: don't cough. But actually, coughing is encouraged by the elite class of concert goers. It is similar to cleansing the palate between the tasting of wines from different regions at a wine tasting, or belching between events at a Monster Truck Rally. It helps you enjoy each segment in its fullest, without the taint of the previous act coloring your perception.

However, nothing will mark you more thoroughly as an amateur cougher than a misplaced cough. Coughing during any part of the music, even during a timpani drum solo, will quickly earn you icy stares from old ladies you previously thought were dozing. Bald men wearing black turtlenecks will flick boogers at you when you're not looking. Even the usher will go out of his way to seek retribution by spilling his flask of tequila on your tweed jacket, the one with the arm patches that your mother told you made you look brainy and sophisticated. 

Here's a golden rule: during the pauses in which you feel inclined to clap, cough instead. Hack loudly, long, and with enthusiasm. Sneezing is okay, too. Even spitting, especially if you make a noisy show of clearing all the phlegm from the depths of your sinuses, will earn you a smile from the ancient old geezer sitting in the wheelchair on your left. 

Another enigma of the classical music lovers' pantheon of secrets demystified. 

Looking down on others
Part of the fun of the classical music performance is having scorn and contempt for other members of the audience. Here's when and how to show your disdain for the "commoners" sitting near you.

1. Practice giving the "Evil Eye." Veteran users of this cursed stare have been known to sterilize gum chewers at 100 yards. When you've become skilled at giving the Eye, you should be able to melt plastic. 

2. Now, look for opportunities to ridicule for any classical music novices the next time you're at a performance. Let's say you're sitting behind a heavily-perfumed lady who begins to noisily unwrap a cough lozenge while the orchestra is playing. This is perhaps the most annoying act possible during a musical performance, because it seems to cut through all other sound and broadcast itself to every corner of the room. Lean forward until you catch the eye of the offender, and then give her your most withering, condescending stare. What's more, if you frown, flex your nostrils, and tilt back your head, you also can give your victim the added bonus of the "Wretched Nostril Hair Display," which will leave no doubt as to your feelings of irritation. 

3. Finally, revel in your smugness. You have chosen wisely.

A Parting Thought
I've always enjoyed all kinds of music. Rock, blues, jazz, folk, hip hop, gospel - I've got the CDs and I've gone to the shows. But when I met my wife, a classically trained musician, I didn't know anything more about classical music than Beethoven's 9th and Bolero. 

Over the last six years, through my wife and the many performances I've attended, I've developed a real soft spot for classical music. Going to see the symphony is a real treat, and once you've learned the proper etiquette (and become skillful at the "Evil Eye"), you too may develop an appreciation of this wonderful music. Who knows, you might one day find yourself as cultured and refined as me.

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©2000 Matthew Farr