A mythical aura of aristocratic elegance hovers over classical music, kinda like with ballet.
Saying you have the ability to play the piano or the violin will instantly portray you as a noble baron, with spindly phalanges, an intellectual mind, decadent soul and sophisticated tastes.
People will picture you in your old family villa, wearing a burgundy brocade robe, tousled hair and a Great Dane albino at your side as you play the Goldberg Variations of Bach while pondering over your unrequited love.
Those of more adventurous thought and imagination might go as far as picturing you fox hunting.
A total boredom, basically.
The fact that this cliche has very little foundation is a known fact. In short, if you were to encounter a brave young man who claims the ability to play the violin it will not automatically ensure him with a noble title and a composition dedicated to you, but most likely you’ll have met a normal guy that thinks about sex, has compromising pictures on his WhatsApp and navigates Instagram using the #bikinibody.
On this same principle Mozart in the Jungle was born, inspired by the book series by the oboist Blair Tindell, Mozart in the Jungle: Sex, Drugs and Classical music.
Because “What happens behind the scenes of the Symphony can be just as appealing as what happens on stage.”
Essentially it’s the classical music as no one expects it, because along with the tests and hard work of those who want to work in that environment, there’s also the need for them to unwind and relax even just for a moment.
The story is told through the use of classical music pieces that is unlikely to be generally used in a TV series, making the show original even from a soundtrack point of view.