Beyond the elite

There are few art forms with more colossal barriers to entry than classical music. Picture yourself finally plucking up the courage to go to your first classical concert. You arrive late, because at that gig last Saturday you had to sit through two ill-judged warm-up acts, an act of charity you’re not inclined to repeat; but here, even the slightest tardiness has you waiting outside until that gruelling pause, presumably marked in the programme, when the orchestra falls silent, the conductor slowly and disapprovingly turns to look at the doors, and you and a couple of other heathen shuffle in, mumbling about taxis and Bob Crow. What’s more, you go and clap after the andante, to the sneering delight of your more sonata form-savvy neighbours. And, before all this, you somehow have to find out the performance is actually taking place, which is difficult when hardly anyone’s tweeting about it.