I planned to play some instrumental music on the grand piano at the show the other night but I chickened out. By the time I was on half the audience left and those that remained looked like chatterboxes. Glad I brought two other musicians to share the spotlight and sing and ditched the idea of playing solo instrumentally. I listened one time to a lecture by a guru who spoke about the spotlight and how it alters a person. Whoever’s turn it is becomes electrified or intoxicated in a way (with themselves). I could follow what they meant. When it is your turn it is a bit like pouring gasoline on being you, whatever you think is you. I do wish I could share the instrumental stuff the way I play it alone in a silent room but it is repelling to do it in an unfocussed space. Pretty sure I’m not the only solo musician who when performing hears all the sounds and is distracted especially by the sounds of audience members who think it is a good time to discuss the score of a baseball game (that was played a week ago). Totally pours water on the fire and who wants to try doing this with wet wood. But I used to watch a guy do it all the time and I admired him. I never knew for sure if what moved me was his bravery or not, like if he chose to deliver his work despite the noise or just wasn’t aware of it. I guess it comes down to the fact that the thing I can do alone in a silent room has everything to do with listening and even me (ostensibly the creator of it) is simultaneously an audience of it, listening to the silence surrounding it otherwise I can’t make it happen.
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Every band I’ve ever been in involved someone yelling directions at me while I’m doing a solo…”too loud, not loud enough, more this, less that !” One of the first bands I was in involved with professionally involved directives given in the form of projectile drum sticks…
Later, this would include solo piano sections where the band drops out and it was just me, or me a singer and 5000 people. On stage directions and commentary continued as per normal. In order to ‘prep’ for this type of situation, I would often play solo piano with my 2 year old daughter sitting on my knee. My daughter would cry, try to touch the keys, make noise, etc. I knew if I could get through playing a piece with her making all kinds of distractions, then I could get through playing in front of a big audience while being told in real-time that I was doing it wrong.
The Canadian folk festival circuit at night can also yield a different type of distraction: giant clouds of gnats, or in the case of Winnipeg, clouds of mosquitos the size of sparrows. Having your face covered in swarms of insects while the band drops out, and you carry the entire arrangement solo, (while fielding commentary AND feeding a cloud of parasitic insects) requires immense focus.
Now I play free-improvisations in the between sets of my colleagues/friends. When the first set is over, I’ll go to the piano and play a solo while people in the audience check their texts, or discuss whatever Kim/Clohe/Kylie said this week…it brings me back to those moments where absolute focus was a matter of survival.
Playing in front of an attentive audience is great, but there is also something unique about playing in front of an inattentive audience. They may appear to not be listening, but they are…just in a very 21st century kind of way.
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update: last night I bit off more than I could chew. At my Mother’s. My Mother never supported my career. When I first went to music school, I lied to my parents and told them I was in a business program. This is not that uncommon with musicians who’s parents are not artisitc, but it was painful nonetheless. Upon receiving the nation’s highest award for the performing arts, her words to me were: “ you were just lucky…”
Regardless, my brother and his daughters (2 and 5) were over for dinner. The girls love it when I play piano, so I started improvising. Immediately, my Mom comes in an berates me for playing “that music…” “can’t you play some nice kid’s music or something!?” I ignore. I have an improvised solo show booked next month, and playing live solo improv in front of a crowd is still a relatively new thing for me, and regardless of whatever success/experiences I ‘lucked’ into, this is still a new thing, and I have all of the insecurities that any artist has who ventures off into new territory has. 10 minutes into the improv, I hear her say to my brother ‘can you believe he’s going to go play that crap in front of people?’ This broke my concentration and I stopped playing. This hurt in a way that was far more painful and unnerving than all of the ‘drum sticks’ and ‘real-time’ suggestions I’ve been given over the years ever could.
I stopped the improv and proceeded to lecture my Mother about what ‘prepared piano.’ was. I told her that if she comes to the show, that I woul dedicating the first improvisation to her, and that I’d be preparing the piano with broken wooden spoons and belt buckles.