Vol 4, Issue 10: Taking Centre Stage...Fright?

You know, I’ve been writing this column for hmm…let’s see about five years now, and it never once occurred to me to tackle this week’s subject at hand. It’s not that it hasn’t always been lurking on the periphery to a certain degree. Rather, I guess I just kinda took it for granted as something not really as relevant considering the “heavy-hitting” business-related material I typically discuss in this forum.

However, after contemplating both what I imparted and the responses I received in return at a special guest lecture I conducted last week among a group of young budding rock starlets, it dawned on me that this issue is absolutely one worthy of its moment on my personal soapbox, if only to provide reassurance to some of you out there.

And so without further adieu, this week, we shall discuss the phenomenon known as “stage fright”, the difference between “debilitating nervousness” versus “good nervousness” and finally, some tips for how you may combat your own case of “cold feet” and/or “sweats” when getting ready to rock. But first, as always, a personal story:

Long before I got into rock’n’roll, my dream was actually to become a broadway star – the next Sarah Brightman, in fact. Accordingly I went through classical and operatic vocal training for about 14 years.

Although I’ve always enjoy singing, performing, and speaking in front of audiences and never from an emotional perspective (even at the tender age of four) FELT anxious before stepping on stage, I used to be plagued with something I like to refer to as the “jitters”.

Basically what would happen is anytime I prepared to sing solo in front of a crowd, the moment I uttered my initial note, my legs would start to shake so violently that it sounded as though I was putting on a ridiculously over the top vibrato technique. No matter how hard I tried, I had no control over it and I got so self-conscious that I began to deliberately wear floor length dresses to all of my vocal recitals so that my leg shaking could not be detected by spectators.

This was something that actually plagued me for several years, but I couldn’t figure out the cause because as I said I didn’t FEEL nervous. It wasn’t until I formed my first rock band at 15 that it eventually went away.

But as we know, history sometimes likes to make a habit of repeating itself. And so, ten years later – last summer – and the first time I had performed solo in a REALLY long time, my jitters came back with a vengeance. Not only were my legs going haywire, but I found myself completely overwhelmed by the experience of being so tiny and alone up there on this massive stage relying on only myself to produce sound (and therefore knowing I was the only one to blame if that sound sucked!), playing to a crowd of over 500,000 at a major US festival. 

Now, before I go any further, let me just state for the record that harbouring a little bit of pre-show nervousness, in my view, is actually a GOOD thing as it means you’re invested in what you’re doing and you’re putting your heart into it. In sum, you’re nervous because you want things to go well. For that matter, I’ve yet to meet a professional who doesn’t claim that they still experience anticipation and anxiety before doing their thang. On the other side of the equation however is what I was experiencing (ie: debilitating nervousness): something that was affecting my performance detrimentally and therefore something I needed to understand so that I could resolve it.

After thinking long and hard about what was similar between my vocal recitals and last year’s festival experience and comparing how I felt before jumping on stage with my bands to both of the aforementioned scenarios, I quickly figured out what was missing and therefore what was bringing on the jitters: it was all about the approach.

With both of my bands, before officially plugging in, we always gave ourselves positive peptalks, did band cheers, and went out there with an attitude to have fun. 

Realizing that the live show medium is really more about entertaining people, than hitting every nice with perfect precision (if they wanted that, they could go listen to the recording), even if we screwed up parts or re-sang the same lyrics, if we delivered a show that got the crowd pumping, we weren’t too hard on ourselves afterward as we fulfilled the goal we set out to accomplish. Moreover, as you’ll learn once you get out there and touring, even when you commit what seem like glaring errors live onstage, if you treat them with professionalism in that you “just rock past ‘em”, to be honest, the vast majority of people won’t even notice. 

The point is this: because my classical training was so much about indoctrinating me with the concept that I was to sing every single note exactly how it was written on the page, I felt I had to perform perfectly or I’d be failing to live up to the “Conservatory” standard. This mentality carried over to my first few solo performances because it was established as the initial guideline for how I was to perform when I was all by myself on stage.

Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against classical training – in fact I owe a great deal of credence to it for allowing me to develop the abilities I have today – however, the way in which it was at least taught to me created a situation where I developed a nervous reaction that served to affect my performances in a very negative way. The resolution? Quite simply, I had to learn to overcome my classical “perfectionist” mentality and to take on the positive approach I did when I was with my former bands.

You may think it’s cheesy, but I tell ya it works. Each time before I step on stage, I take a moment to find a quiet corner, close my eyes, and have a brief moment of zen with myself. I ask for confidence to go out there and do the best that I can.

Performance anxiety can also in part be conquered by making sure that you’re ready, by investing in practising (yes I know it gets boring sometimes, but it’s necessary), and finally, by realizing that with everything in this business, the best laid plans don’t always work out. In other words and in complete contrast to the above stories, I’ve been completely exhilarated to jump on stage, and 100% confident I was gonna rock it, and then what happens? Well, I find out the soundman didn’t properly ground the electrical equipment and so every time I strum my guitar and sing simultaneously, I get slightly electrocuted….I wish I was joking.

Let me leave it at this: we all have wicked shows, and we all suck really bad sometimes – sometimes it’s our fault, sometimes there’s something freaky out there in the air. As a musician, you need to learn how to deal with all of the above – not just deal with it, but deal with it like a professional.

Vol 4, Issue 6: Taking Care of Business AND Yourself!

It’s a mere two days before one of the potentially biggest shows of your entire career: a live performance and radio interview in Times Square, New York City. Your non-refundable flight is scheduled to leave early the next day in the AM. You wake up and your back is completely out of whack. It hurts to move your arm and shoulder (naturally the side with which you strum the guitar). It hurts to move your neck in every direction, other than keeping it stationary to the right side (which makes singing or any bodily motion, as you can imagine, quite difficult). Your chiropractic office is closed and there are no emergency clinics in the area that can deal with your situation. If you snake out of this opportunity, you know you’ll likely never get another one comparable…in other words, “the show”, as they say, “must go on.”

This, my friends, happened to me and can entirely be attributed to an injury I incurred several years ago, during my band days, from trying to carry five guitars simultaneously (we were in a rush!): a combined weight which exceeds my total body mass. Need I also mention, I’m only 26!

So what’s the lesson here? As a creator – an artist of anything – your health is vital as it affects not only your performance, but also your inspiration, motivation, attitude, and overall demeanour. Therefore, I’d like to impart onto you the necessity of taking care of yourself, while taking care of business.

Now, it goes without saying that professional musicianship and healthy living don’t exactly form what one would term the most “natural” of marriages. While the promotion of excesses in stimulation (both sexually and substance-assisted) is something that goes hand-in-hand with the r’n’r image (for better or for worse), life on the road, further, isn’t particularly conducive to optimal functioning.

For starters, especially if you’re touring the States as I primarily do, trying to find inexpensive places to eat that offer nutritious food options…well good luck. Because, in my experience, the typical musician is not that well-equipped navigationally-speaking, time is not a luxury that is on your side when you’re commuting from gig to gig. What this means is that if you find an opportunity to gorge on gas station energy bars and Red Bulls, you’ll likely take it.

The second major health dilemma that the touring artist encounters (ie: lack of sleep) is directly associated with the craft in which we engage. I don’t know how many of you have attended live shows and then attempted to go to bed directly afterwards, but trying to combat the ringing in your ears, not to mention the adrenaline that’s pumping through your veins is no easy feat. Just imagine how much more amplified (pardon the pun) these effects are when you are the one onstage.

Finally, the real killer…stress. From dealing with asshole promoters that try to screw you over, to last minute gig changes, to technical difficulties (which seem to abound!), honestly when you weigh the 45 minutes of euphoria you experience on stage against all of the shit you had to go through in order to get there, it’s doesn’t always seem worthwhile.

It doesn’t take a health expert to tell ya that when you combine the above three factors you end up in a situation where your immune system is weakened creating the perfect opportunity for the common cold (or worse, such as in my case) to take over. While I’ve seen many an instrumentalist “just rock past it”, it’s quite difficult to not sound like a drowning cat when you’re hacking up phlegm and can’t breathe out of your nose. Irrespective of your weapon of choice, I think the vast majority of you’d agree that when you’re feeling unwell, your ideal destination consists of a warm bed, with both Kleenex and a puke bucket on-hand, and a strict IV of chicken noodle soup and Gingerale, as opposed to a smelly touring van. The point?

Life on the road is hard and contrary to popular belief UNglamourous – there’s no need for sugar-coating -- but you can make it harder or easier on yourself by simply knowing what you’re getting into, and preparing accordingly in advance. 

If you don’t wish to find yourself with a bad case of the sniffles or having to face the reality that you’ve got a show you must play and you’re currently less than 100% mobile, I recommend you take to heart the following suggestions: 

1)                          Don’t overexert yourself EVER! I don’t care if you’re in a rush. If experience tells me anything, it’s that gigs NEVER start on time, nor do soundchecks. I was told by my chiropractor that had I not started getting adjusted when I did that by the time I was 40, I would have been in a wheelchair. Not cool or very “r’n’r” is it?

2)                          Pack nutritious snacks whenever possible, and avoid sugary and highly caffeinated drinks at all costs. Water, surprise surprise, can be quite the thirst quencher and there’s nothing like a piece of mango, or pineapple to give you that extra energy kick you need (without the risk of addiction or crashing!)

3)                          Save your partying for when you’re at home. I know many a musician that likes to celebrate their gig successes by getting trashed directly after. However, considering that there is usually little downtime from show to show, this means you end up in situations where you either have people driving while at least partially intoxicated (VERY illegal and VERY dangerous) or people playing while trying to kick an ugly hangover. Further, alcohol and other “substances” don’t tend to bring out the best or most sound judgement in people. When you’re crammed in a limited area for long stretches on the road, the last thing you need is an excuse to get into a fight.

 

4)                          Take shifts driving so that everyone gets a chance for some shut-eye. Further, spread out your gigs and always give yourself extra time (particularly if you’re crossing the border) so you’re never in a rush.

5)                          Get contracts (backed by the musician’s union to ensure legal protection) for EVERYTHING. You can never be TOO prepared as they say.

6)                          Plot out your directions well in advance and gain familiarity with your route (check for construction and possible weather threats that may require a change in plans as well); even better, get yourself a GPS.

7)                          Learn how to cope with adversity. Meditate. Deep breathe. Scream if you have to! Just find some way to deal with it all that doesn’t hurt yourself, your band’s reputation, or others.

8)                          Don’t pick up random groupies. No, this isn’t your mother speaking, but let’s be real people, sexually transmitted diseases are widespread (including many that have permanent or terminal effects). Moreover, finding out you’ve got a kid from some one night stand is so passé. Finally, it’s frankly dangerous. Being in a foreign locale with a lot of expensive gear on ya makes you an easy mark. There’s nothing wrong with meeting new people, and engaging with your fans, but put some limitations on things - keep your equipment in your pants.