Is the RFH too MOR?

When was the last time you went to a major concert venue where a major conductor was forced to put down his baton during a performance with a major orchestra? I'm not talking "mistakes" or illness. I'm talking despair (and anger). For concert venue read Royal Festival Hall, for conductor read Kurt Masur, for orchestra read London Philharmonic Orchestra. Only minutes into Tchaikovsky's Sixth Symphony recently, Masur and his players gave up the unequal struggle of imbuing mystery and tragedy into the opening of Tchaikovsky's great work as an alternative symphony of coughs exploded like gunfire around the hall. But this was not all.

If the symphony began calamitously, it ended no better. Tchaikovsky's third movement is a spirited march, but it is not the last movement. Loud applause erupted in the "wrong" place: an exasperated Masur wildly flung his arms into the air, bringing in the strings for the final movement. Tchaikovsky's "Pathétique" is not some complicated, rarely heard piece. That there may be a few that have never heard the piece is not impossible, but a platoon...?

Time was when the Royal Festival Hall was the principal venue in the country for classical music. Remember the great hoardings with the gentle lyre logo listing all those mouth-watering concerts of serious music demanding serious listening? What do we have now for publicity material? A tacky monthly mag, Southbank, with ads, pics and raves utterly removed from anything that suggests "serious". (The front cover of the current issue sports be-jeaned lads with footie shirts, and the title "Hip-hop Catalunya". May's issue has a doe-eyed black singer, aged mid-twenties to thirties, oozing sex appeal – only it's not what you'll get on 12 May, unless Jessye Norman has been rejuvenated.) And perhaps the advertising says it all: the lowest common denominator attracts.

The LPO concert had been heavily trailed by Classic FM. Fine in principle. Classic FM attracts huge numbers to its radio station, and, undoubtedly, huge numbers who may be listening to classical music for the first time. But is listening to the radio and CDs anything to do with attending live concerts? Surely not. Don't we all use radio and CDs as background patter without a thought to our "behaviour"? Passive listening, it's called. But the live event demands a very different sort of attention, attention that recognises the drama (and the manners) of the moment.

In my recent weeks of concert-going, the South Bank has demonstrated the greatest incidence of audience disruption mid-work. In the Barbican's huge hall, dropping pins would have been heard for Gubaidulina and Pergolesi, and in Karita Mattila's searing recital, which included a formidable contemporary work, the audience were as quiet as mice. Is it that the centre of gravity for gravitas has moved to the Barbican, leaving the South Bank to cope with a profile-less existence? And if classical music has been sidelined at the South Bank, how does it feel to be one of the "resident ensembles"?

David Whelton, managing director of the Philharmonia, chooses his words carefully. "The focus has changed over the past 10 years. The perception of what the South Bank does is that of a huge range, and what we do is probably perceived as marginal. The Festival Hall has made the decision to be a pluralist building. They're very concerned to make sure that the hall has a policy that embraces every single musical genre. The South Bank will say that 60 per cent of output in this hall is "classical", but I'm not sure that's the case.

"The orchestras [Philharmonia and London Philharmonic] do 90 performances a year – and the hall is open 360 days of the year. Even with visiting orchestras and the odd commercial engagements, the number reaches only 125."

Yes, things have changed since the Philharmonia residency began. Yes, where once there was a classical ballet at Christmas, it's now a panto. Yes, musicals are programmed in the summer alongside the populist "Meltdown". As Whelton sighs, "Musicals are easier to understand, easier to sell..."

So who is taking the decisions that have turned the once premier classical-music venue into a middle-of-the-road arts centre? "Jodi will be the person who dictates the proportion of activities across the centre," says Whelton. Jodi Myers is the director of performing arts, with a background in theatre and running a regional arts centre. A look at the list of South Bank Centre executives reveals not a single individual with a classical-music background. (Amelia Freedman is head of classical music, but she does not have the status of SBC executive.) Myers, however, must be answerable to the board. But a glance at the board reveals that out of 12, Robert Saxton is the only practising musician – hard work up against the likes of media people, lawyers and company directors. Is it any wonder that previous CEO, Karsten Witt, with his impeccable classical-music credentials, ended up leaving?

So, does the South Bank get the audiences it deserves? The new chief executive, Michael Lynch's main task is no doubt to steer through the immensely troubled refurbishment programme at the South Bank. But what's the point of a building without a vision? Does sophisticated, cosmopolitan London, with all its specialist venues for opera, jazz, dance, world and improvised music, really need a middle-of-the-road arts centre? Please can we have back our precious concert halls (in all their new acoustical glory) for the direction once intended? And publicity material that spells more than hype?

South Bank Centre's chief executive hits back