January 23rd, 2016

For Those About to Rock ...

I just heard a podcast from Bill Burr and he said something to the effect that as you get older,  it feels like Christmas keeps rolling over as the years speed by.  I've started to feel pretty entrenched in my routine, and have started noticing Christmas comes too fast and too often.  I decided to shake things up this year by setting the goal of singing at an open mic once a month.   I’ve jammed with other people before, but I’ve never performed by myself so the goal is a real stretch.  The ultimate ideal is to play some originals that I have written.  I think that originals are where you can share your true voice.  

This blog aims to share a little bit my experience as I torment myself and others with that voice.

First Performance ...

At this stage of the game, I’m usually fast asleep on the couch on a Saturday night. Parenthood, the comfort of routine and the fight to stay active all have discouraged me from evening festivities.  Forget about bars, even going to a buddies house for a hockey game seems like a stretch. They use to call me the midnight special because by then I'm usually asleep. I can sleep anywhere once it's dark out, and around here that starts as early as 4:30.

I don't think I've been out strolling the streets alone past 10:00 at night for around ten years. The environment feels completely foreign to me. I've certainly never aimed to go play guitar by myself publicly.  Walking alone on this night, with my guitar in hand, feels like I'm embarking on something both new and frightening. 

One of our town's drinking establishments offers a weekly open mic.  I speculated that this gathering place offered a number of benefits for an initial nerve wracking outing. First, I guessed that the crowd would be initially sparse at the hour that I intended to play. I also guessed that most patrons would be distracted enough by their own routines to be focused my humble performance.  

The selected tavern is directly located across the street from an upscale lunchery. The setting offers for an ideal juxtaposition between unrestrained amusements and refined congregation. The barroom is the yin to the teashops yang. The teashop represents the ultimate in modern design. A well designed glass room that exudes freshness.  I once saw Bahamaus perform there, and on stage he shared how he would rather be across the street in the darker, tavern. I like both worlds and it's great that they can be shared on one street.

I strolled down the street at 10:00 at night and peered into the fishbowl  to watch a band play live for an engaged and focused group of onlookers.  A perfect scenario.  I stared in envy watching the band interacting with the crowd.  Everyone in the tea shop is up and dancing, the band’s all smiles - ideal.  Holding my guitar in my hand I felt like an imposter and skulked across the street into arena of open mic performers.

As I walked into the bar I became transported into the early 80s.  I’m certain that it hadn’t been changed for over thirty years.  Why mess with a good thing? I was shocked by how busy the place was.  I was hoping that as the open mic started the crowd would be fairly small.  Not knowing what to do I crept to the back of the bar and sat down alone with my guitar.  There was no sign up so I was awarded with the opportunity to sit alone and stress over anticipating getting up to the mic.  

 Sitting alone in the back of the bar didn’t feel like a high point.  In order to get up the courage to play, I already sucked back a few strong beers at home, but given that I was alone I grabbed another for something to occupy myself.  I wondered what level of intoxication worked best for performance.  With nothing I would fall apart, and potentially either start shaking in fear or pull the pin all together.  Too much would obviously bring things in the other direction and I felt like I was getting close to a booze tipping point.

As I tried to nurse my beer, I overhead the other players talking about other paying gigs they had and a record that they were just finishing up.  Then, a group filled in at the table I was sitting at.  One of the group was planning on playing Zepplin with a chello player.  Hopeless, regardless of where I signed up on the playlist, I was going to be dwarfed by regular and confident players.  I know these things are not meant to feel like a competition, but comparison is inevitable.   

When the host threw the list down for participants to sign away their dignity I rushed the table and made sure that I was going to get on first.  There, no comparison available except for the host.  Much to my surprise, the host slipped in his buddy, the recording artist.  I watched in horror as she sang original folk songs with perfect pitch.  Here’s my original planned setlist

“The Way it IS,” Bruce Hornsby and the Range - I have played this for a while and wanted to start with something comfortable

“Farewell to the Show,” Original

“Shakedown Street, Grateful Dead - I thought this would be a challenge to play on the acoustic and I like the changes

“Don’t Look Far,” Original

“Leave It,” Original

As I got called to the mic, I did a full mission abort and went for something with a little more rocking.  I could feel eyes on me given that I had never played there before.  Everyone closely scoping out what the new guy would do.  Instead of following my plan I started with Killing Floor, because I felt like I could play the opening lick for a while to bring myself down.  It worked and the crowd seemed to dig the contrast.  I eased into the singing and off things went.  

I ditch the originals and stuck to the other two covers that I had planned.  As I moved through the songs, the audience went back to doing their own thing. I lost them.  As I finished up with Shakedown Street, I decided to start noodling a bit for fun.  An onlooker in the front rows started giving me the cut symbol of his hand across his neck.   The monitors were barely audible while I was playing. Does it sound that bad?  Does he mean that I should quit while I'm ahead? Deflated.  Sweet start to a bitter end.

I did get invited to a music party the following night and was given numbers by the other performers so it couldn’t have gone that south.  I was offed 10 bucks to play the house party.  A paying gig.   The vibe was definitely positive and the seasoned performers shared props as I gladly left the stage in relief. I was amazed by the talent of all the performers. Everyone that performed had clear game. There was no one that I saw perform that was't a capable musician. I honestly expected a mix of ability, and was surprised by how high the talent bar was on the stage. The ultimate good news is I survived, with both enough confidence and self doubt required to give it another shot.  I can’t say that I dug being up on stage but I was pretty pleased when it was all done.

February - 2016

One note sounds like a light ray

One note sounds like a new day

One note holds all the others, millions of colors

So one note is best

Pete Townsend

“Why am I doing this?  I don’t need to .”   For me, Light House by Pete Townsend emphasizes that we are all part of one note and we need to share it.  Our voices are unique but I have been holding onto mine rather than taking the risk to share it.  I feel like this is my chance to contribute my voice to the opera of small town Saturday night.

On the last Saturday night of February, I had convinced myself not to go to open mic.  I had however in passing told one colleague that is interested in music that I was planning to head out.  As I relaxed into the couch to settle in to my habitual Saturday night routine, involving chippers and movies, I received a text.

“Are you playing tonight.”

I convinced myself of all the reasons not to go.  I’m too tired, I’ll just do another one when I am feeling more in the mood, I haven’t really practiced, everyone else is better than me … and began to text back that I was pulling the pin on the idea.  Then I realized, this must be calling...
 

“Stand up and be counted, for what you are about to receive.”  I had been given the salute and needed to make the charge.  

The guitar, my weapon and my voice the cannon.  

“Pick up your balls and load up your cannon.”  

Bon Scott must have felt this way too.   Anxiety rushed through me as I decided to commit.  I think facing risk and dealing with this feeling is one reason that I have set the goal of playing open mics.  Rationally, I can’t think of why this puts me into such a state of stress.  At the moment of the decision however, foolish ramblings flooded my head.  I’ll get laughed off the stage.  Tonight will be the night that our towns answer to Jack White decides to drop into to the open mic.  There will be someone so good that I’ll disappoint the crowd as I move on as the next act.  

In order to free myself of anxiety I’ve created a routine.  I go for a jog after dinner, both to get myself alert and bring down my nerves.  Not only does it work, but it’s pretty good getting out in evening running beneath the stars.  Typically I would be halfway to sleep, so even this is a huge upside of choosing to go sing. Then I follow up the run with a couple of stiff drinks.  One step forward, one step back.

Again, over the month, I have practice a set of five songs that I planned on playing.  This month included

Ophelia - The Band - It would be fun to jam to because it has a ragtime feel and the dominant chord progressions forces you to think if you’re improvising ove it.

Don’t Look Far - this is an original that I wrote. I actually stuck to playing it.  This will become the first original that I’ve played in public.

Sugaree - The Grateful Dead - I like the chugging feel of this song.  Again, because of the simple changes it is a great song to jam to.

If they let me stay on stage beyond three songs, i was also hoping to throw in a couple of originals.

As I approached the stage, I noticed a cellist sitting at the bar that  played at the previous open mike. I instinctively saw her as my proverbial life jacket.  Her solid playing would drown out me.  I guess that’s not really a life jacket, more of a plug to pull on a drowning ship.  Anyway, she came to join me and I did a full mission abort on my plan.  I instead played “you can’t always get what you want,” and the cellist joined in.  The booming drone of the cellist sounded awesome as it threaded through the simple Stone’s chord progressions.  I put the song on auto pilot and I think it sounded great.  

It’s tough when you start off with a bang and fade to a fizzle. I created an M. Nght Shalyan movie that started strong and ended with almost unwatchable twist.  Because a Djembe player wanted to get up and play, I completely abandoned my plan and ended up playing a song that I thought would go with it.  I did however, play my first original, Don't Look Far, posted above.

I was also invited to play with another guy and that was pretty fun, but it took away from my initial goals. 
 To plan, rehearse and perform authentically in front of a crowd of open mic enthusiasts.  

March

“Don't need reason, don't need rhyme

Ain't nothing I'd rather do

Going down, party time

My friends are gonna be there too, yeah”

Truly the only things going down through this experience, are my personal ego, and even more bad draft beer than my body is accustomed to.  Every Sunday after playing, both my head and belly regret it.  What a sacrifice.

This month was the first time that I dragged some friends into the world of open mic.  What a different viewpoint you have when you walk the world in company.  The simple act of walking to the bar, felt like a pleasurable evening stroll as opposed to an inevitable march towards embarrassment.  Having friends in the audience is a double edge sward. On one hand, it creates an atmosphere of comfort and familiarity, and on the other increases the personal desire to entertain.  

One of the purposes of doing this is to encourage myself to learn, write and play new and challenging songs.  Entertaining others, is not necessarily a key reason for me to play in public.  I hope to become a better guitarist, and more aware of myself as a singer.I think both goals create a certain vulnerability and with friends present, it is easier to hide behind the old campfire standbys’.   Regardless, as I approached the mic I stuck to my guns and played the songs I had planned to perform.  

“Somebody Load me a Dime,” is a blues standby.  The way I chose to play it created a lot of open air and silence.  Silence can be a powerful exclamation, but it can also open up both vulnerabilities and a chasm for obvious errors.  

“Caravan,” Van Morrison:  I tried this because I thought it would help me my challenge my voice and again there are some opportunities to play between the openings between singing and the guitar. Speaking of dead noise, the joint was empty.  Performing to an empty house is certainly different than to a crowd of people that are more engaged in personal conversations than what you are doing.  

I had also hoped to throw in a couple of originals, but bailed as usual.

A key reason for both inviting people to join me and for sharing this experience is the power of creating a little peer pressure.    Having friends in the audience created a real sense of safety. Through this I was present more of my true self on stage than I was initially comfortable with.  Because I felt like I had a place on the stage, I felt a little more comfortable with my goofy core.

I recently read a Time article on how to motivate yourself.  The article highlighted three key strategies, first to approach things with optimism, second to develop clear goals and the last is to create some positive peer pressure.  I feel like I’m trying to do all three.  I specifically have been sharing the goal of a monthly performance with friends, and it’s pretty hard to back out when you shootin off about what you’re going to do.

I don’t know why, but the experience of involving acquaintances made my think of a lyric of a song that I wrote.

“I want to yell out to the world,

But they won’t here a song.”

At one point in time, I became fascinated with boxing Biographies and they all seem to share a common plot.  The pugilist rises because of a specific prowess that is ultimately manipulated by peers and a fragile support support system.  I think the song emphasizes the ultimate need for social acceptance and the consequences of unaligned expectations.  It asks questions about how you plug along when your hopes and social needs are not being answered.

I recorded the song, messing around with a slide.  I don’t really know how to play slide and I don’t have the patience to figure out alternative tunings to make it really work. Here it is:

While creating a certain amount of peer pressure can sustain the fire of a project, it is not the only log in the fire.  If my goal is to have other folks appreciate what I’m playing, I might as well stick to Brown Eyed Girl around the campfire.  I have to remind myself the ultimately my goals are to increase creativity in my life and to be more open to self discovery and growth and learning.