I’ve been here a little over a week now, and for the first time in seven or eight months, I am getting to hear live music again. It is so thrilling that I can barely analyze or even fully take in my responses, so it will probably be another week before I can begin to talk coherently about what I’ve heard. In the meantime, let me just say something about the process of attending a concert in Covid times.
The first thing to be noticed is that every concert hall does it differently. I had thought, somehow, that there would be a standard procedure (as there is, say, on public transportation, where all buses, trains, and stations require a mask and warn of a fifty-euro fine if you are caught without one). But no: each music venue has its own way of abiding by the rules and regulations.
My first experience was at the Konzerthaus Berlin, a beautiful old building with a huge concert auditorium whose ceiling reaches up 90 or 100 feet above the seating area. With that amount of open space above my head—and given that no one was seated within three seats of me on either side, nor in the row in front of me or behind—I felt quite protected, despite the fact that we were all allowed to remove our masks after sitting down. (Most people did.) My only worry was that Jorg Widmann, who was vigorously playing the clarinet in Carl Maria von Weber’s marvelous clarinet concerto, might well be blasting his germs out to the orchestra and the closer members of the audience. But as I was seated safely toward the back of the auditorium, I wasn’t worried about my own health.
Next I went to the Berlin Philharmonic, for a sold-out concert of the Chamber Orchestra of Europe conducted by Simon Rattle. “Sold-out” in this case meant, again, leaving alternate rows unoccupied and placing audience members at least three seats apart from each other. I have been to the Philharmonie many times, but I had never before had such a comfortable experience, with terrific sight-lines (no tall people in front of me!) and plenty of space to spread out. It felt almost sinfully privileged to be at this concert. Getting in and out, too, was a highly monitored affair, with individual masked ushers guiding you through the entrance procedures (socially distanced outdoor lines, mobile tickets on phones), requiring you to fill out a paper form that gave your contact information and seat number, and then leading you to your isolated seat. In addition to providing the best music in town, I felt that the Philharmonie offered the safest environment. (“If we have even one infection, we will have to close down,” confided the young man who first escorted me in, explaining why they were being so careful.) Here, too, as at the Konzerthaus, we were allowed to remove our masks during the music, and again, most people did this, as did I. The musicians themselves arrived and departed wearing masks, though they took them off to play—and part of the security arrangements involved seating them spaced out on the wide stage of the Grosser Saal, though I had previously heard this chamber orchestra only in the more cramped circumstances of the Kleiner Saal. Altogether, it was a reassuring as well as delightful experience.
The Pierre Boulez Saal is a more recently opened venue, designed precisely for chamber concerts, so they had less room to play with. During the quartet concert I attended there, we were not seated in alternate rows (every row of the in-the-round terraced seating was filled), and there was only one or at most two empty seats left between patrons. On the other hand, we were required to wear masks the whole time, and in fact we were given very high-quality masks at the front door and told to put them on before entering. (A German friend, when I showed him my new thick, white mask afterward, told me they are quite expensive and beyond the reach of normal consumers.) I found the process of listening to music under one of these masks a bit stifling, but that may have been partly because that particular quartet group was less than inspiring. The tickets were issued on paper at a box office, and we didn’t have to fill out any contact forms; on the other hand, the Pierre Boulez Saal (like the Konzerthaus) had taken full details at the time of ordering, so I suppose they will be able to reach me in the event of an outbreak. Like the other two concert venues, the Boulez Saal ran the whole program without an intermission, so as to further reduce the dangers of a crowd in motion.
My scariest experience, thus far, was at the Deutsche Oper Berlin, where I had been lucky enough to obtain one of the rare tickets to the new production of Die Walküre. I don’t know why I thought they would run a Wagner opera straight through for four hours, but since the others were giving up on intermissions, I thought they would too. No such luck. This production had two 45-minute intermissions, at both of which food and drink were sold and consumed without masks. Terrified, I hid in a high-ceiling stairwell during these free-for-all periods. I felt barely more secure during the performance itself, because alternate rows had not been left free, and only a single empty seat lay between me and the people on either side of me. So I was within three feet of at least four to six people, if you counted those in front and behind; and when the man in back of me fell asleep and woke up with a snort, I almost died of fright. Perhaps some of this was brought on by the scary plot and music (Wagner is made for Covid times, in terms of dread), but I couldn’t help feeling that I was under threat the whole time I was sitting there, despite the fact that masks were required throughout the performance. (This procedure was not only understandable but essential for an opera, I would say, since all those powerful singers were emitting aerosols from deep inside their lungs.) We were allowed to wear our own comfortable masks rather than the super-medical ones provided by the Pierre Boulez Saal, and that was a blessing, in a way, but it was also part of the increased danger. I guess the Germans feel that it’s worth taking a mortal risk to hear good music. And I have to say, judging by my own hectic attendance schedule during the past week, that I appear to agree with them.