by Daniel Gauss

Imagine this: It is around the mid-1980s and the venerable Sir Georg Solti takes the podium at Chicago’s Orchestra Hall to conduct Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2. The orchestra is poised, the audience breathless.

But then a stagehand rushes over and hands him a note. “Maestro, Daniel Barenboim can’t make it, but we’ve found someone just as good.” From the wings emerges a female pianist in a glittering gown, looking like a cross between a Bond heroine and a Las Vegas headliner. Solti does a double take. Then he exclaims: “This is Orchestra Hall, not Studio 54! Where is her sense of decorum? Flashy is fine, but not this flashy! Dare I let someone dressed in so much rhinestone anywhere near Rachmaninoff!?”

The concertmaster confers with Solti, and assures him that the pianist is, in fact, a top conservatory-trained virtuoso, while they gesticulate at the scintillating apparition now occupying his spotlight, sharing his stage. Unfazed, as things settle down, the pianist steps up to the bench. “Awww, what’s the big deal?” she says with a mischievous wink at Solti. A few gasps are heard from the cello section. A couple coughs rustle through the audience. And then, without missing a beat, she launches into those iconic opening chords.

OK, that never happened, and, frankly, Solti was the consummate pro and probably would not have been frazzled by such a late change of personnel or her wardrobe. But I needed a story to illustrate how classical music performance has changed from the era of Solti to the present day. The world has fundamentally shifted since Solti departed. Today, the classical concert hall faces an onslaught of modern pressures competing for the public’s time, energy and sometimes limited attention span. Read more »