The Encore Fiend

An English writer once went after the kind of listener who demands encores everywhere, all the time—and noted that the species isn’t limited to Britain.

There are, he said, at least two ways to show admiration: one pleasant and one unpleasant. Sadly, the unpleasant kind has far more followers. In their eagerness to show respect, three out of four people become intrusive, even offensive.

So the public clamors for encores as if it were a necessity. They push a concert singer to give three or four songs when the contract only calls for two, without caring what the singer feels—or what shape the voice is in.

At the opera, the prima donna is loudly applauded in the most moving scenes. She must keep stepping out of the drama to acknowledge flowers and cheers, producing the absurd sight of a ‘mad’ heroine snapping back to herself for bouquets, only to plunge into madness again a moment later.

Instrumentalists suffer, too. After a brilliant finale flung off at high speed and real nervous cost, audiences still have the nerve to demand an immediate repeat.

Few performers have the nerve to stop it. Hans von Bülow did. Once, when the calls for an encore became relentless, he came to the front and said sharply: ‘If you don’t stop this applause, I’ll play all of Bach’s forty‑eight Preludes and Fugues from beginning to end.’ The hall knew he could—and laughed, and let the encore go.