Our Coffee Concert two mornings later, though it contains all the pieces which drove the audience wild a couple of nights before, and though we play with the same kind of panache, is received with polite appreciation. Robin later says that perhaps the programme contained too many jazzy pieces, making it inappropriate for a type of morning concert which in Germany traditionally follows the Sunday church service. Whatever the reason, it sets us musing on how extraordinary it is that each audience has a definite 'feel' to it, something we have all been disinclined to believe when theatre people talk about the phenomenon, but which we are forced to acknowledge when we have played the same piece three times a week to three different audiences. It seems incredible that a totally random collection of people should at once acquire a collective mood, but that's what happens. It would be understandable if both listeners and players demonstrated the same mood, but this is rarely the case, and therefore it can't be explained as collective participation in the electricity of the aether, or anything like that. The players in fact often discern the 'mood' of the audience as being different to their own. Each audience has its own collective soul, even if those people have never seen one another before. << less