Stage Fright

Last night, the old gang returned to a tiny pub in my hometown. By old gang, I mean all of the musicians who performed there at an open mic night that got fairly popular before the host shut it down.

And so, when that same host revived the open mic, it was a reunion gig. I smiled as I looked around at the familiar faces, and I thought about how much change had taken place in my own life since then.  There was a time when this little neighborhood open mic was not such a happy place for me. In fact, for a time, it was my own little house of terror.

 

This pub was the first time I played out in public as a soloist with a band. I remembered being terrified back then, scared witless on most of those open mic nights, pacing behind the club in the parking lot in the dark, trying to shake my wicked bad case of nerves.  

Or maybe hiding in the bushes.

But last night, I laughed at those memories. So what happened between then and now?   I played out every chance I could over the coming years -- country, jazz, rock, soul, whatever, wherever, and whenever.  I was just awful. I blew many clams. But in time I gained confidence and I got past the nerves that kept my brain plugged and my hands shaking and my embouchure locked into bad muscle cramps. That’s all gone now. 

I broke down my old stage fright and saw that it came from three sources:

1) Fear of future consequences

And

2) Not being prepared

And

3) Trying to impress others

#1. By fear of future consequences, I mean this: we create our own imaginary scenarios of doom. We imagine ourselves crashing and burning and being chased from the stage in shame.  But this is all FICTION. That’s right. This stuff only seems real. We make it up in our heads. We imagine things that have not happened, and likely never will happen. Stage fright is an extension of our imaginations.

#2. Not being prepared. This is a big one. When I was starting out as an improviser, almost every key was challenging. And coming up with solos, let alone getting around the melody in, say, F# or Db became a brutally frightening experience in front of an audience.  But did I really practice the chord changes I knew were coming? Did I learn the melodies to the point that I had them down cold? Or, did I noodle around for a half hour before the show (and then again behind the club) and figure I’d just wing it? 

You guessed it --- in the beginning, when I needed to practice the most, I did not.

#3. Trying to impress others is pure poison. This act alone will throttle any creative ideas you have and throw them under the bus of “I’m not good enough. That other sax player – man, he/she’s way better than me,” and on and on. Sound familiar? Of course it does, because we all put ourselves through this.

The antidote for me was to stop focusing on everything else, and to focus instead on the music and what I might add to it, to listen and hear what the other instruments were laying down.  In other words, being present in that moment on any given bandstand.  How did I get from stage fright to confidence?  Time. 

Stage fright is normal. It is not a condemnation of your ability. It’s a universal thing, this fear of performing. 

Yes, deep breathing helps. So does good posture, smiling, wearing nice clothes, having a great reed, and keeping your horn in good repair. Get to the gig early. Warm up. Don’t play cold. Common sense, right?  There are many resources available for dealing with -- Bulletproof Musician is one of my favorites:  http://www.bulletproofmusician.com/

But if your focus is anywhere but on the music, if you don’t actually know the music cold to the point that you can sing it, and if you worry your brain with thoughts of how much better the other players are than you, well, nothing will help. Take those dragons out of the game first.

And now, get up there and blow every note like you mean it.

performance anxiety, stage fright, self-image, confidence boosters, fear of failure 

THE BEST ADVICE I EVER GOT AS A SAX PLAYER

I was at a festival years ago, listening to a big-name (but rather boring) blues band grind through the usual standards.  I wouldn’t have given them two minutes but for their sax player.

He was a tall, elegant man, graying, wearing a black suit. He played a tenor sax. When it came time for him to solo, he literally changed the band’s energy. He lifted them – and the audience - up and out of the doldrums.  His tone was pure and gorgeous, and every note he played fit. I wandered back stage after the band was finished.

I introduced myself and told him how much his performance had moved me. The sax player was kindly. He smiled. But when I asked him if I could pay him for a lesson or two, he seemed embarrassed. He told me he didn’t think of himself as any great tenor player. It would take two or three phone calls over the next couple of years before he finally agreed to talk to me.

  

This is what he said -- five simple sentences that changed my life as a sax player :

1. Blow enough air into your horn to make it vibrate, enough air to make the metal itself buzz.

2. Keep your tone the same all the way through the range of the horn.

3. Play with attitude. Conviction. Intensity. Every note means something. So, don’t be lackadaisical about anything.

4. Soloing is not about playing fast and pretty notes. It’s about people believing what you are playing.

5. Record your practice and your gigs, and listen back to it. Be honest with yourself. 

When he was finished I asked him how much I owed him, and where to mail the check. He said that no money was owed. 

Instead, he turned gruff, almost angry, and he said “No -- learn this stuff.”

I’ve been working on it every day.

tenor sax, tone, performance, technique, sax solo, mentor, sax lessons

Your Gig is now on Facebook, in Living Color

I’ve have a running argument with other musician friends about any given audience’s use of smart phones or other such connected devices to record live gigs, which they then post to social media.

Often, the quality is shaky and the audio stinks. My bigger fear? That future employers will see such low quality clips and not hire me, or, that the recording will catch me at a weak or sloppy moment, or that a potential audience might be satisfied to just watch at home and not go to a live show.

It got to the point when I was playing last week at a big festival and I looked out into a sea of smart phones waving in the air, stopped the band, and asked that people put them away and simply enjoy the music.

Their response? They got up, each of them, and they left the venue.

And me?  I felt maybe two inches tall. Righteous indignation is a true audience killer.

Later that same day, at the music store where I teach music, the managers jokingly suggested I make a banner with some embarrassing wording on it and hang it behind the band to thwart such live recording.

I half thought about doing it.

That’s when it occurred to me that we live in an age of entitlement. People now feel free to use their smart phones to record anything and everything, and social media has given them a free platform to share their whereabouts with the rest of the digital world.

Most important? This is how our fans want to enjoy music. 

 

I had to make an attitude attitude adjustment or stay home:  no more sloppy dressing, and no more trying things out on stage that may or may not fly. From now on, I play like I’m at Carnegie Hall no matter the gig, and I save all else for private jams and rehearsal.

It’s the only aspect that I can control:  me, and my performance. And if people are recording, I want to be spot on.

I brought this same subject up with a friend and mentor who happens to be a first rate blues guitarist and jazz composer named Robin Henkel. His perspective was both refreshing and enlightening:

“When I see someone recording, I invite them to get closer so they can get a better picture. If they’re going to post my music, I want it to be the best quality possible.”  He views such posts on social media as free advertising.

Meanwhile, that cranky sax player who yelled at people to put their phones away?

He has left the building.

Good riddance.

cell phones, recording, live performance, bootleg recordings, social media

BLOWN AWAY

Someone posted footage of a favorite sax player of mine on Facebook recently, performing with a combo at what appeared to be a swank joint  -- white tablecloths, chandeliers, and the band in suits and ties.

The group launched into an old bebop standard and my friend took the first solo.  His playing was big as day, bold, ripe with expression, and captivating. It's what happened while my sax buddy was playing that blew me away.

The trombone player walked across stage (behind the sax player) and picked up something from a bag under the piano.  Then, he proceeded to dismantle his 'bone, lubricate the slides with spray lube, then re-assemble the instrument.

But that's not all.

Next, he put his trombone on its stand, and proceeded to walk around on the bandstand....back and forth between the members of they rhythm section...and all the while waiting out the sax player so he could launch his own solo.

The trombone player's poor judgement and bad stage manners surprised me, considering the guy's deep pockets as a musician. You'd think he'd have known better, considering his level of pro experience.

But no, he didn't.

The rule of thumb while on stage is this:  watch and listen to the other performers when you yourself are not playing. Remain attentive to what is being 'said' by the other players so that you too can contribute to the conversation. Be polite, and do not draw attention away from the soloist.

Never, ever just walk around on stage (or lube your horn in front of an audience) while a song is in progress.  If you bust a reed, keep a spare in pocket. If you have to leave the stage, wait until a song is over.

In any combo configuration, our job is to support each other, even when we are not playing. So, stand still. Listen. Watch.

But do not walk around, fidget, make instrument repairs, or use your cell phone.

This stuff seems elementary, does it not?

on-stage manners, live performance, gigging, band life, combos, bad manners

Five for Beginning Improvisers

Whether for jazz, blues, rock, funk, pop music, R&B, or soul, give these five a try

1. Start with the melody.

“Don’t play it until you can sing it.” That was great advice from one of my sax teachers. He was right -- improvising a solo really means composing something new based on a song’s melody. Learn the melody backwards and forwards. Be able to hum it.  And that way, you can always fall back on the melody if/when all else fails during a solo.

2. Open your mind.

One of the biggest stumbling blocks to learning how to solo is the fear of making mistakes in front of an audience and in front of our peers. Most all have that fear deep inside of us, and it will probably never go away. So, we get used to it, and we stand up anyway and we perform and we make mistakes. Lots of them, if necessary. Making mistakes is part of how we learn. As Miles Davis once said, make them loud.

3. Learn your scales, but not out of a book.

Learning scales out of a book means having to unlearn those scales at some point. Why? Because, as Kenny G himself told me (I managed to sneak a quick sax lesson out of him once,) you will never, ever, play a scale in front of an audience. Ever. He’s right. Instead, try learning scales by ear through an exercise I learned long ago.

Pick a simple song you know cold – for example, “Happy Birthday.” Now, starting with middle C, play it on your horn from memory. Congratulations – you’ve just used an F major scale starting on the fifth note of the scale, C -- (F-G-A-Bb-C-D-E-F)                                        

Next, play the same tune beginning with C#...which uses the notes in an F#M scale. Keep at it until you’ve done this using all 12 notes as your starting point, and you will not only have learned all of the keys, you will have taken a giant step toward connecting your mind and your fingers and your horn. 

4. Listen.

All the time. Listen to other sax players (or soloists of whatever your instrument.) Listen to their tone, their timing, their use of space, how they approach the melody, and how they interplay with the other musicians. This is how we learn music --- by listening, and then by imitating what we heard on our own instruments. Think about it --- when you were a child, you learned to talk by imitating the adults around you, right, and not by reading a book. Every art is learned in this manner. So, listen to other soloists, and then imitate.

5. Play.

As often as possible with other musicians in all styles of music – be it music you study or like, classical, country western, folk, rock, bluegrass, whatever. Try not to limit yourself to only one style or genre, because all music has something to teach us.  Finally, when you get with other musicians for a little jam session, which should happen often in your instrumental life, put practice time aside and just play music. Save practicing for the practice room on your time.           --- ©Dave Good    davegoodmail@gmail.com

beginning improvisation, transcribe, solo saxophone, sax lessons, composing, Kenny G, Miles Davis, jazz advice, soloing