FOR music lovers, a trip to Vienna is incomplete without a stop at the iconic Wiener Musikverein, or ideally, a night there enjoying a concert staged by renowned musicians or philharmonic orchestras.

I went there in late 2012, but I was disenchanted. Contrary to my expectations, the music hall was small and the furnishings not so lavish. The wooden floor was old and creaky and the gilded ornamentation did not really glitter, belying the venue’s better known name, Golden Hall.

That night, I listened to a Czech philharmonic’s rendition of a Dvorak work. Because I sat in the front row, I noticed the paint of the wooden stage was peeling.

Built in 1867, the Musikverein is certainly not the most modern or acoustically sophisticated hall. But despite its aging facilities and modest appearance, it continues to occupy a sacred place in the hearts of Chinese musicians and music lovers.

Thanks to the New Year concerts of the Vienna Philharmonic, broadcast every year by China Central Television, the state broadcaster, the Musikverein has become a mecca for Chinese musicians, professional and amateur, and thousands make a pilgrimage every year.

It is reported that in 2013 alone, 133 domestic Chinese music companies traveled to Vienna to perform in the Golden Hall. And 95 percent of the performances were non-commercial, meaning they didn’t generate any proceeds from ticket sales, according to Netease, a web portal.

A bad example

In fact, tickets were given away so that people who were interested could fill seats to prevent low, embarrassing attendance.

The pilgrims are a motley group. There are both famed musicians and inexperienced music students. They had one thing in common. They paid to rent this dream stage.

For the equivalent of about 160,000 yuan (US$25,800), an aspirant can have the Golden Hall all to himself or herself.

Money is never an issue to China’s newly minted rich. According to the Wall Street Journal, a property tycoon from boomtown Wenzhou City in Zhejiang Province, staged a vocal recital last September in Golden Hall. He sang “Sister Jiang,” an old revolutionary song popular in the 1960s.

There have been even more ludicrous performers. Domestic student bands are a fixture in the Musikverein, as a stopover and a gig are included in their “summer camp” or “winter camp” itinerary.

For instance, in January 2013, a student orchestra from the impoverished county of Huining in Gansu Province performed in the Golden Hall, which, alas, was only half filled.

One naturally wonders how the students’ airfares, boarding, food were funded so that the young people could be the one-time masters of the legendary Golden Hall.

According to Sun Zanzhu, a cultural attache at the Chinese Embassy in Austria, folk music ensembles and art groups have been flocking to the Musikverein in ever-larger numbers since the China Broadcasting Orchestra performed there in 2001.

To give away unwanted tickets has become a tough job.

Usually the complementary tickets were handed out in Vienna’s Chinatown, or through the Chinese Embassy, which was sometimes difficult, Sun said, adding that the embassy once had to distribute a maximum 900 unwanted tickets.

What should be a slap in the face has oddly become something to boast about for artsy Chinese, who mistakenly interpret the heavy Chinese presence at the Musikverein as a sign of growing Chinese cultural influence overseas.

In fact, however mediocre and amateurish, the music tours can be an advantage when their organizers are considered for a promotion.

And students can proudly declare to their envious peers that they have been to and “shone” in the Golden Hall, an experience that might cost their parents a lot, but will probably be perceived as a worthwhile investment and look good on their resumes.

Whether these music trips are funded by parents’ money, private money or state money is beside the point, as long as they help flatter the vanity of those involved in this absurd enterprise.

Ashamed over her role in starting something very undesirable, celebrity folk singer Song Zuying recently said that she set a bad example by holding a solo concert in the Musikverein in 2003. Song’s performance was well received by the Austrian audience, however, though they didn’t understand what she was singing. But great art transcends national borders and language barriers.

The problem is that not all performers are great musicians in their own right. Many aren’t artistically sophisticated enough to aspire to a world-class stage like the Golden Hall. Their main motive is either to amuse themselves, or to get mileage out of their visit.

Snobbishness

The Chinese for Golden Hall is jinse dating. Now it is jokingly referred to as dujin dating, or Gilded Hall, dujin meaning an experience that lends cachet to one’s credibility.

Virtuosos have heaped blame on this bogus flourishing of Chinese culture overseas.

During this year’s session of the national political advisory body, Tan Lihua, director of the Beijing Symphony Orchestra, said sarcastically that our many cultural “exports” are essentially recreation of the performers themselves and are jeered at by foreigners.

Although we are obsessed with spreading Chinese culture abroad, it’s high time we raised the bar.

People’s Daily commented on March 14 that cultural authorities vet the qualifications of art performances meant for a foreign audience. After all, they represent a nation’s cultural sophistication and taste.

Exporting garbage that none find appealing merely serves the purpose of strengthening stereotypes about Chinese as a wealthy yet Philistine lot. More important is the need to shield our children from the corrosive effect of pretension.

When “gilding trips” only cheapen art and flatter young generations’ vanity, they will never develop a sense of wonder and appreciation for sophisticated art, argues media commentator Deng Haijian.

We don’t know if the recent expose about Chinese flooding into Golden Hall will cool the frenzy a bit.

Some performers may reflect and recognize that they have made a mockery of true art.

But some will probably insist on being seen there. Some may even go on to other fashionable venues — but we’d better not name them.