I don’t know when the tradition of frequent standing ovations in the State of the Union speech began, but I’ll guess it’s a modern phenomenon. Even exuberant American culture once had a reticence that seems to have vanished.

My own feelings about standing ovations were shaped when I was, at a guess, 12 years old. I spent my summer at the National Music Camp in Interlochen, Michigan (I went to Interlochen for seven summers in all). That first summer, my friends and I had the great wheeze of invariably giving a standing ovation at the end of a concert — and, at a music camp, you go to lots of concerts every week.

Our cabin counselor decided we needed to learn something about ovations. He was an interesting guy, a composer in the real world, who had severe views about how to encourage contemporary music. He thought music written more than 20 years ago should be available in libraries, but not performed, to create space for contemporary work. He was equally draconian on standing ovations.

“You should give a standing ovation perhaps six times in your life,” he declared. It should be reserved for the kind of performances that were truly memorable, perhaps even life-changing.

I suspect there’s not much advice from 37 years ago, but I do believe what that long-forgotten counselor suggested. I have often found myself at the end of concerts sitting and clapping enthusiastically, while all round me stand and roar their huzzahs. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the performance, it’s just that I reserve my standing “o” for something truly extraordinary.