What if You Played Music and Nobody Listened?
by Charles H. Green on Tuesday, April 10, 2007 (post #95)
You’ve heard street buskers, musicians in the subway. Some are pretty good, some not.
Do you stop and listen? Do you give money?
What would you do—honestly—if you encountered a ringer? Say, a truly world-class musician, playing world-class music, using a world-class instrument?
What would you do? How much money would you throw in the violin case? How long would you listen?
Worse yet—would you recognize the quality at all?
Of course you would—after all, you read this blog. But how about the rest of the great unwashed? How would they behave?
That was the experiment, conducted in Washington, DC’s L’Enfant Plaza subway station on January 12 of this year, and brilliantly reported on in the Washington Post. Treat yourself to some great writing at the Post from April 10.
The musician was virtuouso Joshua Bell, playing on his 1713 Stradivarius some of the great classical repertoire of Bach, Schubert, and others. In 43 minutes, 1097 people passed, videotaped, most on their way to mid-level bureaucratic jobs in the Federal Government.
Write down your prediction now: how many will stop? How much money will be left?
Leonard Slatkin, musical director of the National Symphony, braved a prediction: maybe 75 to 100 will stop to listen, and in all contribute about $150.
What do you think the results were?
One person recognized Bell. About half a dozen—including a prescient three-year old—stopped to listen. Total take—$32.16, including a $20 gift by one person.
What if you play the best music there is, and nobody listens? What does it mean?
On reflection, it can mean an awful lot of things.
- It could be about the audience. Maybe bureaucrats are hopelessly mundane. Maybe they’d dig it in Paris; maybe even New York. Yeah, maybe.
- It could be that classical music is just dead these days—Fifty Cent or Mick Jagger could’ve stopped more than a dozen, don’t you think?
- It could be that the experts on quality are just full of it—that there clearly is no such thing as innate “quality” in art, that art is only subjectively experienced.
- It could be we’ve been conditioned by context: several people passed by talking louder in their cellphones, one didn’t even recall hearing the music he’d heart 4-feet away a few minutes later—he had been listening to his iPod. May’be we simply do not notice world-class quality as such if we experience it in a subway.
- It could be our taste in art has been diminished by the relentless least-common-denominator materialistic blah of our materialistic culture.
- Or—it could be that our entire sensibility about all kinds of art has been bludgeoned into submission by, fill in your favorite cultural demon.
I really don’t know. But I suspect the answer is kind of important.
So—what do you think?
Charles H. Green is founder and CEO of Trusted Advisor Associates; read more about Charlie at http://trustedadvisor.com/cgreen/
You can follow him on twitter @CharlesHGreen
posted in Trust in Leadership Development and Strategy









February 2010
barbara said
What a sad state of affairs and commentary on our society!!!! One has to believe (or hope) a good portion of those folks would have clapped like crazy had they heard him at the Kennedy Center while wearing white tie & tails .
Several items in the article cause me concern:
Years ago while living in Boston, I used to pass by a small section of a park that was situated in the middle of urban chaos enroute to the train station. One summer, I was witness to a small urban scenario very similar to the above situation. A young college age fella started to arrive at the same time everyday at the park and play his violin (BTW, he never had his music case open to invite contributions). He played for hours. He must have been a student at the Berkely School of Music because he played the most beautiful classical pieces of music and his virtuosity was obvious, even to my untrained eye & ear. Interestingly, almost of the people that stopped to listen for more than a couple of minutes were elderly. As the days passed, there developed a regular group of "gray haired folks" that showed up everyday to sit and listen to the free concert. Predictably, the only other folks that would stop and listen for any length of time were tourists, exhausted & needing a breather from trugging along the Freedom Trail. They would sit down primarily to pull out their maps to determine how far away Quincy Market was. All of the people that passed him everyday on the way to the train, barely looked his way. However, his "groupies" sat silent, some with a smile on their face, some with their eyes closed and would applaud after each piece. How wonderful for him that he had such an appreciative elderly audience that weren't slaves to a train schedule, and how sad for all the hundreds that were.
posted on Wednesday, April 11, 2007