During Art period in my Grade 1 class, our teacher, Mrs. MacEvoy, would play music on the class turntable. She would encourage students to bring records from home for the students' listening pleasure. I don't remember much of what the other students brought in, beyond its always being light pop (I think Terry Jacks' "Seasons In the Sun" was all the rage that year). As I listened to my own records often at home, I was only too happy to bring in some of my favourites. Was I a music snob then? Not even slightly - but I had parents who  were at least a decade older than those of my classmates, and that intervening decade marked a very significant generation gap. My classmates brought in "Seasons In the Sun" and "Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head", and I brought in...Mozart's 40th Symphony. Five minutes into the piece, I could sense the vibe in the room turn from interest to indifference to annoyance. A girl I especially liked (toddler crush?) put on a little frown and said something to her neighbour. It was completely inaudible, but I could read her lips perfectly. "This is stupid."
Since then, I've grown accustomed to my own tastes not quite matching the flavour-of-the-day, for better or worse. The situation was probably exacerbated as I studied music more deeply, as a musician tends to develop different musical tastes than non-musicians. As occupational hazards, we hear music more in the course of a day, we tend to analyze it at almost every opportunity (if even unconsciously), we have a sense of how it's constructed (so we know where the bodies are buried, so to speak), and we've probably had musical mentors to colour our opinions.
For that reason, I sometimes feel a bit like an alien anthropologist when trying to determine the 'X' factor that captures a live audience and holds them. I've often seen completely unremarkable acts (at least musically speaking) keep a crowd enthused for an entire performance, and I've occasionally seen stellar performances met with indifference. I'm happy to say neither of these situations make up the majority - most of the time I 'get' why an act is working or not. A degree of originality (not TOO much, mind you), decent technical skills, a sincere and commanding bearing and solid musical material seem to be the essential ingredients. There are 'almost' necessities too: recognizability of material (bad well-known music still trumps great unknown stuff in most venues), exciting choreography, novelty appeal (e.g.: strange appearance, fire-breathing, instrument-smashing, etc.) sex appeal, and superhuman musical skills (usually requiring a bit of hamming-up to draw attention to it). I'm certainly not immune to any of these charms myself - but I continue to look elsewhere too. Interaction among musicians is a biggie for me. Even subtle shifts of facial expression or posture, musical interplay and deviations from 'studio' versions of tunes - these aspects fascinate me. Perhaps not surprisingly, it's one of the things I find most gratifying about playing live myself. When everybody onstage 'lives' their part of the tune while musically interacting with all the other musicians and sounds onstage, I'm rarely more engaged or present - perhaps that's why I find it so fun to watch other musicians experience that too. Presence has presence.
Beyond that, I'll go on studying music and audiences alike - you can learn from anyone anytime. Perhaps that's what Mrs. MacEvoy was hoping for. The best laid plans of mice and Mozart...