So we begin... But the opening piece, Mozart's Kleine Nachtmusik, feels a little flat, and we can all sense it. Then Michael explains to the audience the history of the next piece, Debussy's Syrinx for solo flute, and how he sometimes played it from the platform suspended from the roof of the dome, as a kind-of signature tune. This clearly engages the audience's attention, and Michael's lovely performance follows. Then I decide to introduce the players to the audience, and find myself rambling on about what it's like to be a performer as opposed to being an audience, and how easy it is to proceed through the whole concert without meeting any of the listeners, and how nice it would be if they would not vanish at the end, but would stay behind and eat cakes with us and chat about the concert. I explain about the Kawai upright piano, and about how its reflective front surface allows me to survey the expressions on the audience's faces while playing. All this suddenly lightens the atmosphere in the room, and when we get on stage to tune up for the Shostakovich, everyone is noticeably more relaxed. Once again I conclude that one can really take nothing for granted in the audience; one assumes that the audience sees through the mask of dignity which we wear on the platform to the loveable souls underneath, but in most cases this is simply not possible for them to do, given to little evidence. The performance of the Shostakovich feels much more like what we have been aiming at: it's lively, intense and the chamber music spirit suddenly begins to stir amongst the group. At the end the audience, as requested, sits tight in its seats and the players immediately begin to mingle... The first people I pick on to chat to say just the right things; they heard the Shostakovich the previous year in the Pittville Pump Room and found it terribly solemn and alienating, but this afternoon they found it full of life and humour. One person... said that as far as hew was concerned, the 'chamber music experience' was far more authentic in our concert than it usually is in traditional concerts. Nobody mentions the Mozart, but everyone is kind about the Debussy and Shostakovich, which I think is simply a measure of how much they felt taken into the confidence of the players, and I'm sure that, had the order of the programme been different and the Mozart following instead of preceding our friendly speeches, the response to the Mozart would have been warm too. It's very interesting; the quality of the playing seems to be registered on one level, but the quality of the contact is what people long for, and once that has been established, it seems to open whole new channels of possibility for the quality of the playing as well. << less