Magic at the Musicals 2026

I mean, I enjoyed it. The compilation musical theatre concert Magic at the Musicals, celebrating its tenth anniversary this year, has stopped doing programmes (either paper or digital), and as my flat stomach and broad mind changed places when I was about twelve (I was always picked last for any team sport activity in physical education) I’m not even going to attempt to remember precisely who sang what. My powers of recall are sufficient enough to state the evening’s proceedings began with a song from Hamilton, the song with the iconic line, “…and Peggy” – the apparently largely ignored youngest of the Schuyler Sisters – and ended with a medley of songs from Jersey Boys, a touring production of which continues at the time of writing.

I’d bagged a ticket back in January, which was before I began a ‘frugal living’ drive in March, though I must admit there are better ways of spending £100 than on a musical theatre concert, especially one that will be topped and tailed and broadcast on Magic Radio at a later point anyway. I was also reminded, alas, of four particular bugbears that led me to substantially reduce my spending on seeing shows. Firstly, a man in the row behind mine couldn’t stop himself from “singing” along (inverted commas mine) to songs he recognised. A pity Malcolm Potier couldn’t be there to deal with the matter. Secondly, rustling of crisp packets and whatever else people were eating.

Thirdly, unnecessary getting up and making other people get up in the process. If the call of nature comes, by all means answer it. But a man got up, who I thought wanted the conveniences, only to come back a few minutes later with beers in both hands. It is a pity the Royal Albert Hall even keeps their bars open when a performance is in progress. I can’t imagine the Promenaders buying beers in the middle of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5. And all I wanted to do – and all you are supposed to be able to do at a musical theatre concert – is sit down and listen to songs.

The last one was the amount of people whipping out their smartphones to take photos and videos. Strictly speaking, this was not a violation of the ‘no flash photography’ rule. And some will say it’s a concert not a theatrical performance, so of course the rules are going to be more relaxed. Even so…

It is one thing to block out the annoying behaviours of other patrons on press nights when I am, essentially, working for a comp ticket (or two) by publishing a review of it the following day. I have wondered whether I’m just becoming old and grouchy and even more of a tight bastard than ever. While I am grateful to everyone put together and participated in this event – the students from Mountview Academy of Theatre Arts, forming the show’s choir, were excellent – I have decided, on reflection, I don’t want to fork out and block out an evening on my own dime to listen to some twat in the row behind singing and some other twat in the row in front enjoying his crisps. In future I shall settle for the radio edit of Magic at the Musicals instead.

I’m quite aware that live performance will basically die a death if too many people take the same approach as me, but I think the singalongers and rustlers and amateur videographers should just be left to get on with it. I am not one of them. I do not identify as one of them. I do not want to pay to spend an evening with them. The power and resources to do something about it lies with the same people who have the power and resources to put on these shows in the first place. If they don’t want to listen to me, I’ll vote with my feet and not go. I don’t want pity. I don’t want sympathy. I just want to listen to music in peace.