An Initiation at The Proms

The Proms first began back in 1895 and has become a venerable hallmark of British culture. It was co-founded by two Englishmen. The first was businessman and impresario Robert Newman, and the other the youthful and budding musical composer, Henry Wood. Together, they organised and conducted a two-month-long classical music extravaganza that has held an enduring esteem to this day. 

After moving to London three years ago, my attendance at The Proms has become a matter of personal ritual. This blossoming enthusiasm compels me to defend its character and charm. Ubiquitous as ever in our country's current age of mendaciousness, The Proms, like all other British traditions, has had to endure the same self-serving and opportunistic smears by ideological zealots—the 'unbearable whiteness' of classical music; the problematic patriotism of Rule Britannia and the inequity of women in the world of composing. As ever, many of these alleged problems are raised by the BBC itself, who are entrusted as the stewards of this prestigious event. Whatever damage and subversion they wish to inflict upon The Proms, however, I must state with candour that it is worth defending and has a valuable role to play in our current social malaise.

On Pleasure

For my own part I cannot help but feel a tremendous privilege to sit (or stand) in the magnificence of the Royal Albert Hall, transfixed as the conductor marshals the attention of every observer, his arms cascading in dynamic character. To look at the flurry of fiddles in uniform synchrony, as the auditorium swells with the sound of Bach and Beethoven; to serenade your soul with such English classics as Edward Elgar's Enigma Variations. To watch a plump, ruddy-faced, gentlemanly percussionist as he gallops his drumsticks along the timpani for the Russian might of Stravinsky's The Firebird. These, and many other composers, have given the West—and indeed, the world—irreplaceable classics. Few events continue to honour the flame of their achievements with the finesse and prestige of The Proms. 

On Social Behaviour

There is something more to The Proms—and classical music more generally. It holds within it a certain antidote to one of the many blights of our society: the erosion of focus. Our era of unprecedented technological advancement has left us enslaved to the allure of the smartphone. It is no longer peculiar to watch as someone loses focus on their television screen to check their phone screen: their attention torn between a profusion of digital seductions at restaurants, holiday parks, and cinemas. But not the Proms. To attend the Proms is to accept focus, and to conduct yourself with genuine civility. Pieces can last for fifty minutes on occasion; without reprieve, each demands your dedication. There is a reciprocity of respect within the world of classical concerts that is deeply refreshing in a society of declining standards. With the Proms, you are there on its own terms.

The social etiquette at the Proms is robust. That thoughtless youth, scrolling through his phone in the fourth row may well torment his fellow moviegoers but the same could not be said of the attendees at the Royal Albert Hall. The social standards of the Proms are too resilient. All of this without a hint of paternalism. There is no tannoy spoon-feeding you the rules: proper behaviour is simply expected. Amongst the numerous occasions that I have attended, I have never witnessed the abuse of this good grace. A more humorous staple of a performance is the recurrent bursts of coughs that usually erupt after each piece, brought on by the listeners' restraint against besmirching a piano concerto with a few hearty wheezes. The collective decorum of the spectatorship is all very charming. Only after the final note has faded into ethereal memory is one entitled to splutter.

On Our Culture and Heritage

I turn lastly to the status of the Proms as a chess piece in the culture war. Of the eight weeks of splendour and decorum, it is The Last Night of the Proms that is the most generally anticipated. It is certainly the most internationally recognised aspect of the entire event. Against the general convention of its previous nights, the last night is one of boisterous participation, flag waving and a highly convivial and loose—rather than austere—nature. Back during the interminable cultural purges that resulted from the Black Lives Matter frenzy of 2020, Rule Britannia’s place at the last night started to look tenuous. Under the guise of Covid safety measures, the BBC floated the idea of removing it from the setlist. Fortunately, the public backlash was fierce and the anthem survived what would have been an irreversible retirement. They can muster a hundred sieges of vandalism against us: our cultural castles only need to fall once. 

The Last Night at the Proms has a markedly English essence; Rule Britannia, Pomp and Circumstance, and Jerusalem are always played at the evening's climax. With English identity being liquidated from all aspects of our country as a problematic relic of a bygone era, it is paramount that at an event as high profile as the Proms is protected. There has always been an air of innocent fun about performing these pieces on the last night, but that fun is being evaporated by the social and cultural context of our times. The tighter the iron grip of diversity and inclusivity clenches, desperate to drag them from the stage into the abyss of History, it is inevitable that these pieces will become a symbol of hope and resistance. The line must hold.

On The Unexpected

It is one of the most unexpected aspects of my life that I fell into this romance with classical music. It has helped me to better harness my own discipline so that I too am less corrupted by the temptations prior described. In a world where TikTok prevails and modern music is condensed into four-minute records at most, classical music can yield great rewards for one's patience and time. It allows us the opportunity to pause and ruminate on its intricacies. Often repeated listening only enhances the experience. Perhaps juxtaposed with ubiquitous modern pop songs, the delicate sound of strings and wood takes on a transcendental aura when its modern competitor sounds so artificial. Furthermore, I have found it to have a highly evocative effect on connecting me with a profoundly rich aspect of our culture. To those of you who may find this realm somewhat unfamiliar, I would counsel you to try it for yourself. To those established aficionados, I eagerly hope to join your ranks someday as I continue this journey of discovery through the Western canon of classical music. Fortunately, this country has no better home to welcome both novices and connoisseurs than our very own glorious festival, The Proms.