Re: Players Remorse
- From: "WadeInChugiak@xxxxxxx" <WadeInChugiak@xxxxxxx>
- Date: 30 Oct 2005 12:13:52 -0800
George W. wrote:
> Players Remorse..
> ....I don't know if that's a legitimate term but I suspect that anyone
> who plays out knows what I mean. Anyone unfortunate enough to be
> riding home with you after a show probably does. Screwed this one up,
> should have done this, shouldn't have done that, etc.
Oh, sure. It's just proof that you actually CARE how you come across.
Dubya continues:
> I haven't been
> doing this very long but it's strange the way it seems to work.
> Sometimes every song will be perfect and the set is weak. Other times
> there'll be flubs all over the place and the set goes over real well.
Yup. When I was playing in the bars, some nights I'd have the crowd
behind me, be in perfectly good voice and WANT to excel, yet the
performance would come out pedestrian, at best. Other nights I might
be really cooking as a player, but, as you say, the overall effect
doesn't quite gel.
It's nothing to lose sleep over, and the more you play out the more
perspective you'll have in this regard.
I remember one occasion when I played a diocesan function with the
church group I now lead. My parents were in town, visiting from Kansas
City. It was on a Saturday, I think, and my mother decided to go
shopping with my wife while my father elected to attend this gathering
to hear us play.
That original choir lineup sported some superb musicians, which is what
had led me to join in the first place. The leader was a British guy
who was and remains one of the most rock-solid rhythm guitarists I've
ever worked with, the piano player was a genius, there was a lead
guitarist who doubled on fiddle, and even one of our parish priests
played synth, and played it well.
I filled in with whatever acoustic instruments seemed appropriate for
any given song, mostly on mandolin but also on guitar, dulcimer and
banjo as needed.
Anyway, this event was a diocesan convention, which meant that the
bishop was there, as well as priests and laymen from parishes all over
Alaska.
This would have been in 1990. In the Episcopal Church at the time,
there was usually just a church organist (most of whom were competent)
and occasionally there'd be "folk choirs," (most of which were not.)
The whole "Worship Team" approach of the evangelical Protestant
churches was not something that had caught on yet with most Anglicans
like us, but this group I was in was heavily influenced by it.
ANYway, after a folk choir from another parish opened for us by banging
their way through a few of the usual out-of-tune folk mass standards,
we got up and gave a little concert.
We went over really, really well. Most of the Frozen Chosen had never
heard anything quite like it, and we were extremely well received.
Lots of foot-tapping and clapping along and a genuinely euphoric
reception from the convention delegates.
We were all in tune and all played well that afternoon, yet afterwards
the pianist and the synth-playing priest and I stood around and
obsessed over every note, every harmony, every solo.
The priest in particular was a worry-wart by nature, and the pianist,
while a certifiable musical genius, was also such a perfectionist that
nothing ever completely met her impossibly high standards. Though
obsessive performance post-mortems are not my usual practice, on that
occasion I got into it with the two of them, and we stood there and
re-hashed EVERYthing.
People kept coming up to tell us what a great job we'd done, and we'd
thank them with that distressed look that musicians get when they don't
believe a word of the compliments that are being paid to them.
Finally my father came up and told us we'd done a really nice job.
(He's not a musician, but he raised two of them, and has an excellent
ear.)
At his compliment the three of us rolled our eyes, and I started to
explain all the flubs and missteps we made. When I paused, both the
priest and the pianist chimed in with their own comments.
Dad listened for a moment, then held up his hand. Puzzled, the three
of us quit our kvetching for a moment, and he said:
"Two points: first - when someone compliments your playing and you
point out all the mistakes you think you made, what you're actually
doing is telling that person that they know nothing and that their
opinion has no merit. It's an indirect insult, even if it's
unintentional."
"Second point: you sounded great and the crowd loved you. What more do
you WANT?!?"
Then turning to the priest and the pianist he said:
"Now you two can stand here and continue to beat yourselves up if you
LIKE, but I'm taking my son to Simon & Seafort's, where we can drink a
couple of black and tans and admire the view of Mt. Susitna across Cook
Inlet."
And with that he and I left....I know my OWN jaw dropped open when he
said that, but he made a really valuable point, and I've remembered it
ever since.
Dubya writes:
> I tend to create my own problems. For one thing I feel that people get
> tired of hearing the same songs over again so I try to change them or,
> worse, do songs that aren't really ready yet. I'm not sure that toying
> with a song is a great idea and I'm beginning to think that people
> come to expect them done in their original form. Last night I
> flatpicked some songs I usually fingerpick and added harp on others.
> Nothing drastic but still a bad idea, I think mainly because I didn't
> put much time into learning them that way.
I don't know - taking risks like that helps keep you fresh and on your
toes as a player, I think.
When I'm really playing well and have a good crowd, I'll sometimes
improvise instrumentals on the dulcimer. I have to be in a good mood
and in good form, and the stars have to be in the right alignment, but
I find it invigorating and exhilarating when I'm loose enough to do
that.
And sometimes I've come up with some musical thoughts that I was able
to return to later and shape into nice, finished pieces.
So there are definitely benefits to giving yourself that freedom,
PROVIDED that you don't beat yourself up too badly afterwards....
Dubya writes:
> It may be that I just need to come up with some more original material
> rather than fooling with things that seem to work. Oh, and I'm
> beginning to realize that I should never do "one more song" when I'm
> done unless it's short, simple and I know it cold. That's the one I
> usually screw up. To be honest I hate thinking in these terms. I'm
> nervous before I play but once I start I'm fine. Maybe too fine. I
> usually end up tossing the setlist and just doing what I feel like.
> Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. Or at least I think it
> doesn't. Or does....
Don't go stapling yourself to a set list, not if you have the ability
to make it flow without one.
So much of being effective without a set list is the ability to sense
the mood of the crowd, and all you have to do to do THAT is gauge the
response to the songs, and figure out where to take the crowd next.
It's intuitive, and the more you do it the better you'll get at it.
Dubya concludes:
> Anyway, sorry for the ramble but it would be interesting to hear how
> people with more experience feel about this.
Hey, pal, I think you're on the right track. Even the
self-recriminating post-mortems are a necessary stage (for a WHILE) if
you want to get better at this. Just don't get stuck there.
And always, always, ALWAYS remember to smile and thank people who tell
you they enjoyed your performance. Inflicting a post-mortem on them is
a way of refusing the compliment, and, as my father said, telling them
that their opinion doesn't count.
Hope that makes sense. And I also hope that you keep on doing just
what you've been doing.
Wade Hampton Miller
Chugiak, Alaska
.
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- Players Remorse
- From: George W .
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