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Listeners are the unsung heroes and heroines of classical music. Composers have their reverent biographers, their biopics and statues in the public square; performers have ecstatic fans, the limos and the recordings contracts. But who cares about the poor old listener, the third member of the \u2018Holy Trinity\u2019 of music, as Benjamin Britten<\/a><\/strong> described him or her?<\/p> It\u2019s not as if listeners don\u2019t earn their keep. Listening is a strenuous business. Witness this report of four ardent listeners to Beethoven\u2019s Fifth Symphony<\/a><\/strong> at the Queen\u2019s Hall, sometime before the First World War: \u2018Here Beethoven<\/a><\/strong> started decorating his tune [the first variation of the theme], so she [Helen] heard him through once more, and then she smiled at her cousin Frieda. <\/p> ‘But Frieda, listening to Classical Music, could not respond. Herr Liesecke, too, looked as if wild horses could not make him inattentive; there were lines across his forehead, his lips were parted, his pince-nez at right angles to his nose, and he laid a thick, white hand on either knee. And next to her was Aunt Juley, so British, and wanting to tap.\u2019<\/p>