Aurora’s forthcoming Carnival of the Animals theatrical performance at Southbank Centre is much-anticipated — the first in a series of performances also visiting Bury St Edmunds and Snape Maltings.
The billing for the characteristically convention-busting concert states:
“Specially commissioned for this production, Richard Ayres’ new work Dr Frompou’s Anatomical Study of an Orchestra tells the story of what happens after the carnival is over and the musicians begin to rebel…”
Building anticipation across its social channels, Aurora Orchestra posted a video earlier this week showing the making of a prop for the performance. In the clip, a cello is seen smashed into pieces on the ground before being carefully arranged in front of the camera. The caption reads: “Prop creation for Carnival is ongoing. Apologies to any cellists.”
It’s a typically bold move that catches the eye and plays well to the internet’s appetite for surprise and provocation. The distressing sight sparks strong emotional responses that drive comments and engagement. On platforms like Instagram, where the rate of interaction in the first minutes after posting has a significant impact boosting reach, anything that shocks, enrages or otherwise is an effective tactic for exposure. Such thinking and action is something the classical music world needs to do a little more of.
But there’s a flipside. Without full context — no explicit explanation of what Carnival is (if you’re in the industry you won’t necessarily know instantly what Aurora’s gig list is at the moment), or any explanation of why the instrument is being destroyed or, as later clarified in comments, that it was ‘beyond repair’ — the clip can come across as flippant, and maybe even wanton.
Thoroughly Good spoke to Aurora Orchestra CEO John Harte earlier today, who offered further context around the storytelling in the concert. (Spoiler: a mad scientist begins designing and building a hybrid instrument from fragments strewn across the stage — a moment that, even within the drama, is intended to be distressing.)
Harte also explained that the instrument used to create the prop was donated by a maker who confirmed it was beyond repair. With this context, the performance becomes a piece of theatrical advocacy — one designed to provoke an emotional reaction and ultimately champion the value of musical instruments. The post was deleted prior to our telephone conversation.
Out of the editorial safety of a theatrical space, social media strips away any of that wider context. Users process video quicker than text. Instagram, like all social media, a platform where scrolling is prioritised. And, whilst there’s no explicit data about who clicks on the more link to read more information, it’s typically below 15% of the total number of views. Most people will form a judgment based on what they watch. Stripped of programme details or performance context, the image of a shattered instrument risks being at odds with Aurora’s longstanding commitment to music education and access.
This was not, clearly, the intent. Sparking conversation is a legitimate goal. So is building reach. A little more context in the caption — explaining the nature of the instrument, the method of its selection, and the broader concert themes — might have gone a long way. Content creators for brands need to have editorial freedom to experiment too, and maximise the challenges of the role as an opportunity to build resilience, especially when there’s strong evidence that a creative eye can positively exploit algorithms to build reach. Context is everything.
