In a George Plimpton-esque adventure, I spent the day playing with the Philharmonic Orchestra of New Jersey at the big New Jersey Performing Arts Center in Newark.  The orchestra's web site advertised the concert this way:

Be swept away by the lilting grace of Antonín Dvořák's charming Serenade.  Judged by many to be one of the most beautiful works ever written for string orchestra.

Well, I don't know whether the audience was swept away, but they were certainly talked to.  And it was quite uplifting.  This was billed as a Discovery concert, which meant that the conductor turned around and tried to persuade the audience to get in there and understand what they were listening to.

After having cajoled the group to recognize several themes in the last movement of the Serenade, the conductor said, in effect, "Now, concentrate, and see whether you hear what we've just talked about."  And then we trickily played a section from the Tschaikovsky Serenade.  Totally different piece.  Also for strings.  Also very familiar.  A hummm went through the audience.  And this is when the conductor, George Maull, really hit his stride.  He confessed to having deliberately played a different piece to prove a point.

He said, "Society is teaching us not to listen.  Music is everywhere, but it's always in the background.  When you go shopping, it's there.  When you see a movie, it's there.  When you're in your car, it's there.  But we're not really listening.  Can you imagine this -- Dvorak intended for you to give his piece your full attention.  We don't seem to do that any more.  I see people in concert halls reading the contributors' list in the program with absorption, or reading the program notes -- meanwhile, the music is passing them by.  You can't multitask with this.  You have to listen."

The musicians on stage nodded in agreement.  He was saying what they believed.  He went on to talk about concert etiquette -- stop coughing -- and about how classical music is full of emotional variety, just like people.  We don't get up in the morning and decide we're going to be happy all day.  There are always transitions, and shades of meaning, and moods with us.  Same with this music.  It changes all the time.

It was a very speedy adventure.  We had just one rehearsal, then a break, then the concert, so it was a little hair-raising.  I do know that the audience was giving us its full attention.