If the "physical gyrations" detract - and distract - the audience from their enjoyment of the music, - which is why most people attended the concert in the first place, then, to my mind, they are out of place.
I can’t speak for the reviewer or the audience present, but my sense is a paying audience — ostensibly, fans, aficionados, and the like — were already aware of who the performer was and what they might expect during a concert performance.
Which brings up “concert” and “performance”: is the former a subset of the latter, or would you hold these to be discrete fundamentally?
You attend the concert for the music, not for the attention seeking behaviour or conduct of a performer.
I attend a concert for the experience of the whole performance, come what may. Most of the time, there aren’t many surprises (which can either be “ok” or altogether “boring”, as reflected by the paucity of audience energy in that intangible, but very real performer-audience interplay).
Oftentimes, though, there are surprises — most of them memorable, positive, and/or amusing (and at least one I’ve witnessed, truly negative). Sometimes they come from the performer, from a technical glitch, or even from a gregarious audience member.
Whether that’s Ryuichi Sakamoto playing (R.I.P.) on two synced baby grand pianos facing each other; Pansy Division playing in a sweaty dive; Kirsty MacColl (also R.I.P.) singing in a breezy cantina; or Prefab Sprout at a town hall, I can anticipate a certain energy, vibe, and musical repertoire to arise from any of them. For any concert, I come to expect the unexpected flourishes which make witnessing that performance a memorable one.
If I want a rigid event with few to no surprises, I can invest in and set up a home listening room to mimic, spatially and digitally, the acoustics of my favourite concert hall and to listen to so many remarkable recordings of live performances (of the same) to have already been conducted and already been played. Whether that’s Stan Getz, João Gilberto, and Astrud Gilberto inside a NYC lounge in 1964, or a full-bore symphony orchestra at the Budokan, I can get
most of the experience of having been present at the time of the recording by listening to the recording in a space set up for it.
But that’s
most, not
all.
All means being there and expecting the unexpected — sometimes the truly unexpected.
I'm not arguing that a concert player should, necessarily, be "stiff and formal", but I am arguing that a performer should not take away from the enjoyment of the music or seek to centre himself (for, I cannot imagine that such conduct would be deemed acceptable from a woman pianist) at the expense of enjoyment of the music.
Again, by the sound of it, the reviewer was unprepared and came in with a set of routine expectations — some no doubt borne from rigid tradition — which were not met. I doubt the audience came away with the same disappointment, because for the audience and fans, there
wasn’t an unexpected element in his performance’s gyrations (which, if he was worth his salt, wouldn’t negatively impact the music coming from it). If the music sounds no less good with eyes closed (or eyes unable to see), then the “detraction” would have been trivial to all but the unprepared.
Here, (and I write as someone who attends classical concerts reasonably regularly), I must beg to differ.
Please do. I am enjoying this sidebar!
The music is the point, which is why everything else should be (completely) subordinate to the music.
You and I know this isn’t entirely true.
We attend concerts to hear music within a particular space (re-)performed by a particular set of musicians and/or conductor (if there is one). We pay because Yo-Yo Ma is conducting, or maybe Philip Glass is conducting a retrospective of his collective works.
We pay for the engrossing experience of a hall’s acoustics, knowing there will be the occasional cough from an audience member somewhere, the odour of people wearing superfluous fragrances (both the fascinating and the off-putting), and also to see how other audience members present themselves. Sometimes, as with the sweaty bar, the audience engagement with the musicians
is the point.
(Have we any They Might Be Giants fans in the house?)
We pay for lighting, which often helps to set a mood. We pay for the experience of the hall’s warning tones to return to one’s seat at end of intermission (assuming it’s not a general admission show where most are standing). We also once paid for a physical ticket, whose torn half we kept could be saved as a memento along with, if available, a programme guide and/or merchandise being sold.
We attend concerts not
solely to hear music, but to witness a whole performance and everything surrounding it. We even pay for the preparation of attending ourselves and the travel to and from, including (possibly) a late supper. Please do correct me if I’m wrong!
I'm not suggesting that it shouldn't exist, but ist function is to serve the music, and most emphatically, not detract from it, or serve as a distraction from one's possible enjoyment of the music.
Again, close your eyes. If the music at a live performance feels no less mesmerizing, no less engrossing, no less visceral and emotional, then there is no detraction from an ancillary visual (which, not to belabour this further, is what the fans and devoted audience comes to expect from a particular performer or group).