This week I was reminded how different audiences react to live performances, and how some of that difference in reaction can be based on class. I was lucky enough to be invited to the gala opening of the Ain’t Too Proud musical, which centres on the creation of The Temptations, their music and the pitfalls of fame.
I can’t begin to tell you how incredible the performances were. It was like they had rounded up the best black male singers in the country and thrown them together on the stage at the Prince Edward Theatre in London. The music hit my heart and my soul hard.
As someone who was raised on a diet of soul, funk, reggae, dancehall and more, it’s hard for me to sit still when I hear good music. It took every inch of my being to not stand and dance for most of the musical, but by the end I couldn’t take it anymore.
I jumped up out of my seat and danced for the final song while most of the audience around me remained seated. For me, music is enjoyed through the movement of the body. It’s not enjoyed sitting still and staring at a stage.
I do understand that for many, staying still and quiet is the way to enjoy theatre – even musicals. Because that’s how it has been done for many years. For instance, very few people, I imagine, whoop and cheer at the opera (though I’ve only ever been once, so that’s my sole point of reference). In my head they clap politely, nodding every now and then to calmly show their appreciation of a performance.
But one thing we ought to consider is that not doing that isn’t wrong. Not everybody wants to consume musical performances quietly. I’m not saying that a Bodyguard-esque situation is right in any shape or form (where an audience member refused to stop singing during the show and the police were called). But there is more than one way to enjoy a performance.
I went to watch Ain’t Too Proud with my colleague Bex. We’re both quite loud and expressive, and the moment the singing began we turned to each other excitedly as the delights unfolded on stage.
When those high notes were hit we clapped and whooped with a few others at the incredible talent we were being treated to. We nodded our heads to the beat and tapped our feet, exclaiming “wow!” under our breath; we danced while remaining seated. If you get to see the show, you’ll understand why.
The two guys sat in front of us kept turning around, barely concealing their annoyance. But rather than show them my own annoyance at their behaviour, I simply smiled back.
Ain’t Too Proud is a brilliant stage show celebrating some of the best and seminal songs in black music history. If there’s one thing I know about black music, it’s that it is rarely appreciated quietly where I’m from. We make sure our appreciation of good music is seen and understood. And despite what regular, quieter theatre-goers may think, that’s not a bad thing.
It’s akin to the different behaviours in church, for example. If you were raised in a black working-class Caribbean church, you’re used to a gospel choir belting out songs with an unbelievable level of power and soul. And you know only too well that the congregation will noisily show its appreciation with smatterings of “Hallelujah” and “Praise the Lord”. But you will probably get a few strange looks if you tried that in a more “traditional” English church setting.
Neither is wrong though – both are showing their love for the Lord. It’s just one way is quieter than the other.
As the arts strive to throw off their stiff-upper-lip, middle-class persona and bring new people through their doors, it’s important that traditional audiences also understand that there’s more than one way to enjoy a show. Especially one based on a group who literally made music for you to dance to.
What I found really amusing was how our reaction to the show’s brilliance encouraged others around us to throw off their shackles and relax into it, too.
An audience member next to Bex had been silently enjoying the first half of the show, then was moved by power of soul by the second half. She was clapping and swaying along with us throughout the final half, as though our behaviour had given her permission to truly enjoy it. It was beautiful.
