In the polite world of British classical music, a standing ovation - indeed any show of emotion - is rare. And as audiences go, that of Edinburgh’s Usher Hall sits on the restrained end of the spectrum. But all that was thrown to the winds on Tuesday, when 27-year-old Venezuelan conductor Gustavo Dudamel led the Gothenburg Symphony Orchestra in a program of Copland, Ravel and Berlioz, on a tour that also took the orchestra to the Proms last night. It was the sort of concert where the 2,500-strong audience held those apparently endless, magical silences at the end of each piece before exploding into passionate applause. And at the close of the program, the hall was on its feet.

Dudamel, the product of an extraordinary Venezuelan music education system, is not only the hottest property in classical music at the moment, he also provides its chief source of hope. His Venezuelan orchestra, the Sim�n Bol�var National Youth Orchestra, many of whose members live below the poverty line, provides proof positive that classical music is not, and should never be, reserved for middle-class, affluent white Europeans. In short, Dudamel offers British orchestras - and the Arts Council - a number of urgent challenges; challenges that need to be addressed by a musical scene that, at its worst, can be grey, dull and mediocre.

1 Rethink the hierarchies of the symphony orchestra.What comes through strongly when orchestral musicians talk about Dudamel is that, while he is very clear about what he wants from them, he is a musicians’ musician, rather than the traditional dictatorial maestro-monster. Venezuelan music education is essentially communitarian. All teaching is done in groups; the focus is on the collective and not the individual. This is one of the reasons he gets so much out of musicians - he is one of them.

2 Remember: it’s supposed to be fun. Dudamel’s introduction to music was via his trombonist father’s salsa band as much as through his orchestral playing. The unabashed, party-time pleasure Venezuelans take in salsa leaks into their attitude to classical music. Experiencing music should be about having a brilliant time - even though a journey with the masterpieces of classical music may take you to the darker places of the soul.

3 Play (and hear) every concert as if it is your last. Dudamel said this week: “For us in Venezuela, everything is new. And every time we play something, it is also like the last time. This is how I grew up.”

4 Throw out tradition. Perhaps not quite. “I respect and have learned a lot from the European tradition,” said Dudamel. But he, as a Latin American, is free from much of the baggage carried by classical music in Europe and North America, where even to be interested in classical music shunts you (often unfairly) into a certain class paradigm. “When young people see orchestras just sitting down and doing concerts each week, they see something routine. They can’t understand what people enjoy about it,” he said. There are too many orchestras in the country going through the motions with workaday concerts. This needs to change.

5 Don’t be ashamed of classical music. “In Venezuela going to a symphony concert is like going to a pop concert. Everyone feels very proud. It is our symbol. We have our flag, our national anthem - and now our orchestras. The citizens feel part of it,” said Dudamel. The government must get behind our orchestras without cringing about their perceived elitism.

Our orchestras need to be proud and unashamed of their power to engage with the beacons of western art, and to communicate their excitement afresh. That way, British audiences will be swept to their feet by the power and the passion of British orchestras as often are they when this whirlwind of Latin American talent sweeps in.

� Charlotte Higgins is the Guardian’s chief arts writer guardian.co.uk/charlottehiggin

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Celia Cruz, the undisputed diva of salsa and one of the greatest performers in the history of Afro-Cuban music, has died of a brain tumor at the age of 77.

Her husband of 41 years, Pedro Knight, was by her side at her home in New Jersey. She had been ill for months.

Along with the percussionist Tito Puente, with whom she worked for many years, the flamboyant Cruz was largely responsible for the worldwide popularity of salsa.

She was hailed as one the greatest female singers of the 20th century, the Latin equivalent to Aretha Franklin or Ella Fitzgerald, but as a Cuban based in the US it was inevitable that she was also seen as a political symbol.

To the 700,000 Cuban exiles in Miami she was a stalwart of the anti-Castro movement.

She had been in poor health since undergoing surgery last December, and premature reports of her death on Miami radio stations in recent weeks led to public displays of grief.

According to media reports, her body will be taken to Miami, where a huge memorial service is expected.

Cruz had a remarkable history. It is thought that she was born in 1925 in a poor part of Havana, though she remained tight-lipped about her age for most of her life.

She originally planned to become a teacher but that changed when her cousin entered her for a radio talent show, which she won.

After a series of amateur appearances, and studies at the Havana Conservatory of Music, she became lead singer with one of Havana’s great bands, the Sonora Matancera, in 1950.

At first the public resisted her appeal, because she was taking over from the star singer Myrta Silva.

But by the final years of the Batista era she was a star herself, performing at clubs like the legendary Tropicana at a time when Havana had become a corrupt center for well-heeled American gangsters.

Here she first recorded songs that were to become salsa standards, and met Pedro Knight, then a trumpeter with the band and later her husband and manager.

Life for Sonora Matancera, changed after Castro’s revolution in 1959, and the next year they all defected.

Celia Cruz was never allowed to return to Cuba again, because, she said, “Castro never forgave me.”

In the US she began building a new career with the help of Knight, whom she married in 1962.

At first she found it difficult - young Cubans in the US were more interested in the Beatles or US rock bands - but by the 70s they were rediscovering their roots, and Celia Cruz.

She went on to work with the great US-based Latin musicians, from Willie Colon to the Fania All-Stars, and developed a flamboyant stage show in which she made use of outrageous costumes and wigs and her trademark cry of � azucar! (sugar).

She recorded more than 70 albums, and won numerous awards, remaining a formidable performer to the end.

Now, with her death, a classic era for Latin music has come to an end.

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