But there's an element worth noting. It's trust. Try this: Matthias Goerne was a little-known baritone until William Lyne, then artistic director of the Wigmore Hall, put on a recital and insisted he sing Schubert. The Wigmore audience, trusting Lyne's expert taste in Lieder singers, turned up in droves. Goerne was soon a star. Such examples aren't unique to London. Graffin runs a festival in a French shipbuilding town, Saint-Nazaire where, over 20 years, the local, non-specialist audience has grown to trust him to deliver good, enjoyable concerts to the point that they will attend anything, even a three-hour programme of contemporary works. It's the same at pianist Leif Ove Andsnes's festival in Risør, Norway, which has also run for 20 years and has developed a thriving new music element for the same reason: the audience's confidence.

Clearly we will attend music we don't know when we trust the performers or programmer enough — just as we'll attend a concert by an unknown performer if we like the music or trust the promoter. Build up consistent high quality, integrity and trust, and the sky might be the limit.

Let's play "Fantasy Concert Series": I'd like to see a major orchestra hand over two or three concerts to a trusted champion of rare repertoire as "curator". How about   Simon Perry, director of Hyperion Records? Each concert could include at least one work that has done well in the Romantic Concertos series: the Karlowicz, Cliffe or Coleridge-Taylor violin concertos, maybe a piano concerto by Scharwenka or York Bowen. Tempt the record-buying public in to listen, create a buzz with a prestigious association; there might be a smattering of empty seats, but there's much to gain.

Instead of fearing rare works, we should celebrate them. And if we do, that could give us a welcome respite from clapped-out warhorses. Everyone wins. But it needs risk. Who will take the first step?