You know how we say that music is the universal language, but we never mention how many dialects there are. Not only that the users can be very different but there are many types of receivers as well. I know that very well, having been a performing artist for 12 years and having lived and performed in 3 countries it always strikes me how different audiences are.
I work as a singer in Budapest now, after having spent two years in Egypt, performing in all kinds of places, international membership clubs, dining cruises, jazz clubs, fancy private parties, sea-side hotels, dance clubs, cafes, restaurants, you name it. What Cairo and Budapest have in common is the incredible variety of entertainment crowds. Okay, perhaps a lot less women wearing the face-veil in a restaurant in Hungary, but you know what I mean. Both a hub of travelers and boy there are many kinds of people with many kinds of reactions to live entertainment!
Before a singer I was already a professional oriental dancer. I learned dancing in Hungary but later on I ended up in Greece and Egypt. So at first I performed to eastern music for western crowds, then to eastern music for eastern crowds, then as a singer I started working with western music for eastern crowds and finally moving back home to Hungary again, I sing western music for westerners and mostly for my "own people" (whatever that means). So let's just say a culture shock for me is like a regular side-kick of life now. Also, I can safely say that I completely lost my sense of nationality, not just culturally, but musically too since I sing in 5 languages and my own doesn't feel any more natural than the rest.
What I always noticed in the Middle-East (and let me include both Greece and Egypt since there are many similarities regarding this) is how responsive people are to music, any kind of music. People there grow up breathing music and dance, their folkloric roots are alive and still active and is part of their modern popular culture as well. In the middle of the craziest party in a top dance hall in Heraklion (Crete Island) there would be a bell ringing and that means one thing: the DJ switches from the sickest club hits to an hour long local music and Greeks would go Supergreek - glasses smashed, napkins and flower-heads thrown, they would kneel down and one of them would start some kind of drunken folkloric dance-like series of movements to a soul-tearing music that is only sweet to their ears but the foreigners would just go "What on Earth is happening exactly?!"
Egypt is no different and I think they are even more expressive when it comes to music and dance. Egyptians will make music anytime, anywhere, for any reason. They would sing, they would find a tabla somewhere or use whatever object that can be used as percussion and go wild with those rhythms that took me years of workshops and private classes to understand (where the hell is count 2 again???). And they would make up a song so easily! Of course because their verbal culture is just as important and sophisticated, it is quite astonishing for a newbie expat anyway. No wonder why even political demonstrations sound very different in Budapest or Cairo - not just because of the numbers obviously, even a tiny march in Cairo would make more noise than the biggest angriest protests in Budapest. (Me, even after two years of massive "revolution-training" I'm unable to lose my shyness about chanting in a demo.)
So what about Hungarians? Well, as someone who is looking at it from some kind of weird "I'm officially from here but I no longer belong because I've been away for too long" perspective and considering that I've met all kinds of audiences from all around the world during my performing years my impression is that Hungarians are the toughest crowd you can entertain. I'm serious. If I wasn't one of them and didn't understand them I would probably start crying on stage or slowly strangle myself with the microphone chord.
Here's the thing: any other crowd (Indian, Far-East Asian, Middle-Eastern, South or North American, Western-European, South-European, African, Australian, you name it) watches a performance and has an immediate response: good or bad, it doesn't matter, you can see how they feel about you. Even if they don't clap or move or cheer, their eyes and faces will tell you if they are ready for a slower song or they are getting bored and want to rock the house. But perform for a Hungarian table and you can't figure out if they are mad at you or having the time of their life!
Am I saying that Hungarians have no feelings about music? No, of course they do! And that's the crazy part, they adore music just as much as anyone else. But we somehow grow up being very awkward about responding to it. I'm not sure if this is because we are so out of touch with our folkloric heritage that it's reduced to forced after-school folk-dance classes or because we have other forms of primary bonding rituals (like drinking shots of palinka for breakfast - that actually makes a Hungarian quite responsive, the "drunken and overly enthusiastic audience member" will be another blog post topic I think) but one thing is certain: I'm working the hardest and sweating the most when performing for my Huns.
There's a twist though: when you finish your gig and you squeezed the last note out with the last piece of your soul and you are ready to jump in the Danube thinking that they hated your music or voice or whatever it was that stopped them to make a single encouraging facial expression for most of the show, then there's a tap on your shoulder. It's a Hungarian, telling you that they are absolutely blown away, had the best time ever and they will definitely come back next time.
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