This summer something very rare happened in the film industry. Faced with declining attendance, one of the country’s two major cinema chains offered a money-back guarantee on showings of the critically acclaimed boxing epic “Cinderella Man.” Now I have to confess that this still didn’t motivate me to go, but it did get me to thinking: if the theater owners believed that the film was of such quality that they were willing to take the risk of viewer dissatisfaction, then why don’t concert organizations do the same thing? Offering audiences a risk-free opportunity to sample live classical music might just be an excellent way to build a new base for the future, while filling up the halls and creating new opportunities for constructive interaction between performers and listeners.
In fact, the more I thought about the idea, the better it sounded. It need not interfere with normal fund-raising or subscription drives. Indeed, it’s just a variation on the kind of package deals currently on offer—the ones that let you switch concerts, or mix-and-match programs. But a guaranteed refund has the singular advantage of expressing confidence in the product by empowering the consumer, and so gives customers a very different picture of what is being offered. Instead of the usual, pathetic “nobody supports the arts and we always need more money” guilt-trip that masquerades under the guise of “development,” performing arts organizations would be telling their supporters, “We know that what we have is so good that we are financially willing to stand by our promise of quality and audience satisfaction.”
It seems to me that the risk would be limited. Most people enjoy a night out. Committed concert-goers are already sold on the idea that the arts should be supported, and would likely never abuse the privilege. Classical music geeks looking to take advantage could be controlled simply by limiting the program in terms of number of tickets purchased and frequency of use per season. Designating specific seating locations, choosing events carefully, and other sensible restrictions would naturally apply. Even if a certain amount of money did get returned, the fact is that most of the time the seats would be empty anyway, so there would still be a net gain in terms of sales, attendance, and consequently income. It’s the same sort of calculation that encourages concert promoters to set ticket prices knowing that it is better to fill the hall and earn the same revenue as might be gained by having more expensive seats, but a correspondingly lower turnout.
There are, of course, barriers to implementing this very promising strategy. Perhaps the biggest of these is the fact that most performing arts organizations are so obsessed with the flow of money being one way, from patron to performer, that the very idea of giving money back is inconceivable, horrifying, and beyond the pale of possibility. Even now, if you buy tickets and later find out in advance that you cannot attend the concert, you are encouraged to “donate” them for resale, but don’t expect a refund. The notion that the price of tickets cannot cover the full cost of the event is used as an excuse to make you think that you are getting a bargain, when in fact it indicates nothing more than the fact that expenses are completely out of line with income. Until this basic economic disparity gets resolved, it will be very difficult for any arts institution to adjust its habits.
Another barrier to giving dissatisfied customers refunds is the “not-for-profit” mentality, a form of arrogance that holds (a) that performing arts institutions are entitled to as much money as they can suck out of the system, whether by tickets sales, donations, or subsidies, and (b) audiences should come to reverently worship at the altar of high culture and have no right to question or otherwise express an opinion on the quality of what has been offered. After all, if the audience could walk out and demand its money back, just imagine what might happen to the current practice of dutifully programming the latest unlistenable piece of garbage by some talentless but well-connected modern composer. Why, some of these musical nonbeings might find themselves forced to choose between writing music that the majority of listeners might actually enjoy, and “compromising” their self-proclaimed artistic “ideals.” What a dreadful notion!
The truth is, most performing arts organizations couldn’t care less about meaningful audience development, because that isn’t the basis on which they are funded. In Europe, the game is to justify ever larger government subsidies, and while actual attendance may matter to some extent, appeasing bureaucrats matters even more. In the USA, the trick lies in finding a steady pool of rich donors willing to cough up money on a regular basis. No one wants to “reach out” to the vast majority of normal people whose approach to musical culture is casual, sporadic, and unimpressed with, or even turned off by, the cultural afflatus with which classical music events are packaged and sold. This is a pity, because at least some of them, perhaps a good number, might readily become enthusiastic supporters.
The real question facing performing arts organizations is how to find these people, and there’s really only one way: give them a chance to listen and let the chips fall where they may. Offering a money-back guarantee would go a long way towards accomplishing just that. Rather than wasting effort on useless “outreach” programs that look good on paper but in fact accomplish nothing, concert promoters should be encouraging curiosity among the public and then giving them a painless, risk-free way to act on their impulses and sample at will. After all, nothing beats the visceral experience of live music-making, and the real problem has never been (as some would have us believe) a lack of education about music and culture, but rather a lack of easy access. Keeping the riff-raff out is still seen as the surest way to keep the money flowing in, even though few insiders will say so out loud.
The truth is, sadly, that the entire arts community is ruled by fear: that what they do doesn’t matter, that the wider public really doesn’t care, that by seeking a new audience they will lose their existing base of support, and that someday everyone will realize how ridiculously overpaid and over-funded musicians and their organizations often are, and consequently that the whole house of cards will come crashing down on their heads. Make no mistake, that will happen in time, but the arts will survive even if the current institutional structure does not; and it’s important to make the distinction between the viability of the end product and its current inefficient, distorted, economically insane system of production of delivery. In reality, no one knows the answer to the question “If we build it, will they come?” because the larger public has never really been invited and made welcome.
The longer the arts community continues to stick its collective head in the sand, and pretends that it need not behave like any other service-oriented branch of the entertainment industry, the more costly and dire the inevitable consequences will be. Of course, I strongly doubt that musicians and their keepers will take any serious proactive steps, particularly if it means possibly giving up cash receipts now to avoid a catastrophe later. But on the outside chance that some are listening, I say to them: Show that you have confidence in your product–and stand by your quality image–by trusting your audience. Open your doors to all comers. Have the courage to accept their honest judgment of your work, its content, packaging, and presentation. Listen to their criticism, and learn from what they tell you. And if they are not satisfied, give them their money back!
David Hurwitz
