alt Hacker NewsI thought this bit was fascinating:
> Blom begins with Stravinsky, whose famous orchestral work The Rite of Spring was inspired by ancient Russian dance rituals. A melange of old folk music and arresting dissonance, the piece’s first performance in Paris 1913 triggered one of the most infamously violent reactions of any concert-hall audience in history. As Blom puts it bluntly, “all hell broke loose”:
> “During the first two minutes the public remained quiet,' Monteux [a musician] later recalled, “then there were boos and hissing from the upper circle, soon after from the stalls. People sitting next to one another began to hit one another on the head with fists and walking sticks, or whatever else they had to hand. Soon, their anger was turned against the dancers and especially against the orchestra... Everything to hand was thrown at them, but we continued playing. The chaos was complete when members of the audience turned on one another, on anyone supporting the other side. A heavily bejewelled lady was seen slapping her neighbour before storming off, while another one spat in her detractor's face. Fights broke out everywhere and challenges to duels were issued.”
There’s something about the image of a concert hall full of rich, fancy people erupting in a melee that is just delightful
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Two months earlier there had been the so-called Skandalkonzert in Vienna, conducted by Arnold Schoenberg: "...it was during Berg's songs that the fighting began. At the trial, Straus commented that the thud of Buschbeck's punch had been the most harmonious sound at the entire concert. For Berg's work the Skandalkonzert had lasting consequences: the songs were not performed again until 1952, and the full score did not appear in print until 1966."
The main reason for the commotion during the Paris premiere seems to be the publicity which whipped up the audience on both sides and made a clash inevitable. The Russian ballet had been playing the snobbery of the Paris audience for Stravinsky's two previous ballets, but misjudged the response in the third.
The subsequent performances, the London premiere, and the Paris concert premiere in 1914 all went off without a hitch. And the status of the Rite has only steadily increased ever since.
As Taruskin says, the music of the Rite is actually not very difficult to appreciate[1]:
> While it was at first a sore test for orchestra and conductor, and while it took fully half a century before music analysts caught up with it, The Rite has never been a difficult piece for the audience.
> The sounds of the music make a direct and compelling appeal to the listener’s imagination, and the listener’s body. In conjunction with Stravinsky’s peerless handling of the immense orchestra they have a visceral, cathartic impact. They leave—and to judge from the history of the score’s reception, have always left—most listeners feeling exhilarated. It is only the mythology of The Rite that would suggest anything else.
[1] https://avant.edu.pl/wp-content/uploads/Richard-Taruskin-Res...
If this is your cup of tea, it's worth reading about the Astor Place riots over Shakespeare performances in NYC
You know, I just listened to it [1] and I can see why there was such a strong visceral reaction to the piece! "Dissonant" is definitely the right description. It's almost painful to listen to, especially if you were expecting normal concert music. Is it enough to cause a riot? Maybe!
> concert hall full of rich, fancy people
Not to harsh your schadenfreude buzz, but this is not the right image. Classical music was mass culture at the time.
Opera, in particular, was popular with all classes. (There's a delightful sequence in, I think?, "The Leopard" of brick-layers coming to blows over the merits of one singer versus another.) Recordings of famous singers were the first "hit" gramaphone records. Enrico Caruso sold out concerts all over the world - and (in legend, at least) sometimes gave impromptu balcony concerts to disappointed punters gathered in the street below.
The excellent book, “Rites Of Spring: The Great War and the Birth of the Modern Age”—which uses this infamous incident as a jumping-off point from which to explore Modernity as an incipient artistic and social phenomenon that accelerates during the interwar period—concludes that this account of the crowd’s reaction was, at the very least, highly embellished, and not dissimilar to tall tales about crowds fleeing from the Lumière brothers’ image of a train bearing down upon them. But since these stories are contemporary to the events, they do nevertheless tell us something important about the spirit of the age.