The fate of classical music has changed dramatically over the past three decades. When Isaac Stern toured China in the early days of China's reform - as documented in the wonderful Oscar winner From Mao to Mozart, Shanghai did not have one decent piano. Now, China produces 400,000 a year.

If only we could also produce 400,000 fans of piano music a year.

I have interviewed representatives from a few classical labels. They whined about how the market was so miniscule they couldn't even cover their salaries. On top of that, they had to add a hefty customs fee for imported discs.

"What's so strange about that?" you might ask. "The share of classical music is shrinking all over the world. But what about the performance market? It seems to be thriving."

Therein lies an even bigger illusion. A concert hall may be packed, but not many people actually pay for the tickets. Several insiders told me that, in Beijing, a city of 15 million, regular patrons for classical music number about 3,000. And that includes people like me who get complimentary tickets for writing reviews. On average, 20-30 percent of the audience members pay for their tickets out of their own pockets.

So, how big is the Beijing market? You do the math.

A friend of mine is definitely among this select group. She is the kind of fan who flies to Salzburg for an evening of Mozart. But she buys the cheapest seats in Beijing. Why? Because tickets here are as expensive, if not more so. On the other hand, the scalpers in front of Poly Theater and the National Center for the Performing Arts are a regular fixture. These people have access to a steady supply of free tickets, which they can flip around and every penny is profit.

A big star like Pavarotti or the Berlin Philharmonic could certainly fill up a house with paying patrons. But most shows have a hard time giving out free tickets, let alone selling them, unless they are snapped up by institutional buyers who secure large blocks of seats, or even whole shows, and use them as PR tools. And the problem with free tickets is, they may attract the wrong crowd. You can gauge their presence by the sudden emptying of large sections of the hall during the first intermission.

The victim of the "free" culture is not only classical music performances, but all kinds of performing arts. In Beijing, a show may need to get approval from a dozen government organizations, get sponsorship from a dozen corporations and get promotion from a dozen media platforms, all of which may request complimentary tickets. A pop act in a stadium has to set aside thousands of these guanxi tickets, and they have more monetary value than a classical concert.

Shanghai offers a silver lining to this dark cloud of meddling by non-market forces. For classical acts and semi-classical ones like musicals, the paying audience accounts for the majority. A colleague of mine was invited to attend the premiere of a new musical and all the press tickets were for the back seats. That, to me, is a sign of a healthy market. Non-paying audience members should not take precedence over paying ones. The government has to let go of the State-owned performing arts troupes before the "free" culture will dissipate.

Overall, live performances are for people with either plenty of disposable income or special access. It is not an accurate measure of the fan base of classical music in China. I once knew of a CD vendor in southern China who specialized in classical music. Her hideout did such a brisk business she probably had her finger on the pulse of the market better than anyone else. Of course, her trade, charging 4-5 yuan for each disc, was illegal and often harassed by the authorities. But it shows that, given the right pricing, classical music can indeed gain a significant foothold among Chinese audiophiles and music lovers.

Lately, Google China has, with one stroke, legalized what used to be illegal. By licensing from some of the major labels, it is offering tons of music, including classical music, to Chinese for free downloading. The wealth of classical music, albeit only in recorded format, is available to anyone with an Internet connection. (Despite some technical glitches, I managed to secure an almost complete Maria Callas discography in just one afternoon.)

That may have a bigger impact than 38 million kids pounding away at the keyboard. It may provide the necessary education to produce a legion of music connoisseurs who can tell the difference between Lang Lang and, say, Evgeny Kissin and be able to appreciate it. Until that day, the drumbeat is mostly in the hardware.