datamusicata

I wrote this post last Friday, but didn’t get a chance to post it til today:

I am at the Northeast Regional Folk Alliance here in upstate New York and I have seen literally dozens of people perform.    All of them gave me something to write about, and one in particular gave me my idea for a column today.

A good songwriter with a true voice and interesting chord progressions.   He was also the inspiration for the column about an “entre” into your song.   I found that though the songs seemed good, the melodies interesting and musical, I was not drawn into any of the songs.    The lyrics passed over me like a misty rain.   I knew I had gotten wet, but had no sense of being rained upon.

In any event, this is about texture and dynamics.   This singer-songwriter definitely used dynamics, but it didn’t have that much impact for me.    The reason being his two side men, both good players who knew their instrument and were musical, were ultimately inexperienced as sidemen.

For some reason, when we first begin to play an instrument, we think we have to play all the time.   And that is what these two sidemen did.   

My pal wrote four songs, one of which was completely different than the other three, though two of those three you could tell came from the same composer.   

But thanks to the two sidemen and they way they were used, every song had exactly the same texture, the same colour.   And these side men did everything that they do, in every one of the songs.   All the songs sounded the same, and though there was good playing going on, there was not the musical conversation that makes a good rendition great. 

Using the same sounds or textures on everything is to make it all the same.   Imagine if you put large amounts of ketchup on say, eggs benedict, ice cream, steak, and zucchini.   It would all taste like ketchup no matter what you cooked.

Think of your arrangements with that in mind.   If you strum every song, then the are going to sound the same, if you finger pick every song; or you arpeggiate ever chord.   What ever you do, if you do it all the time, it loses impact, it becomes the norm and then invisible.  It makes your songs sound the same.

I am on a plane back to Los Angeles after attending the Northeast Folk Alliance Conference (http://www.nerfa.org/) , as many of you already know.

At the conference I had the opportunity to perform on their mainstage.   The best thing about that is that nothing is competing with the attendees attention.   That’s the only thing scheduled.  

Consequently, a whole bunch of people who had never heard me do what I do, got to hear a fifteen minute set of me talking a mile a minute and trying to fit in three songs before they shut off my sound.

Yes, I did the show in the allotted time, but I was very uptight about having to do an effective show in that kind of time.   I have found that when I am on the stage, even after an hour of warm up I still need about twenty minutes in the spotlight to completely relax and do the show I am capable of doing.

The pressure of the time allotment coupled with the fact that so many folks that were important to me were going to hear me for the first time, left me feeling uptight and inadequate.  

Amazing isn’t it?   I have performed on stage probably ten thousand hours and in the past decade have not embarrassed myself even once, but still, knowing what can go wrong with the sound, the lights, my voice, my guitar, my health, and/or an audient that cannot be dealt with left me nervous and less than comfortable.

The upside is that I’ve been doing this so long, I could do my show without anyone seeing how much anxiety I was truly experiencing while doing it.

That’s what all that time in the spotlight has done for me.   And you couple that with the amount of practicing that I have done over the past couple of years and I had the tools to deal with my anxiety.

I am talking about it so that everyone who performs will know that no matter how many times you perform, if you are passionate and committed about it, you are going to be nervous.

There was one other thing that contributed to my anxiety at my showcase that I neglected to mention.  I am usually close to an audience; never more than ten feet or so and can usually see the faces in the first row.

The stage Saturday evening was probably thirty feet from the first audience, but because of the excellent stage lighting, I couldn’t see that.    All I knew is that I was not feeling inside myself the “thing” that I always feel from audiences.   

When I came off stage, I was actually disappointed and discouraged about what I did up there, but keeping to my promise to not let anyone know that I am unhappy about a performance, I did not let on.

I don’t think it is wise to tell someone who just enjoyed a show that you didn’t think it was very good.  No point in that.

And the feedback was remarkable.  Everyone loved it.   John Platt from WFUV (http://www.wfuv.org/ told me that it was “masterful”.   I was thrilled.   And I realized that we artists really can’t tell what’s going on.  

We, as artists,  are so busy trying to deliver the goods that we aren’t really a good judge of how it is perceived.   We are always considering what we are capable of, what happened at the best show we ever did, and / or that one guitar note that just wasn't "right".   

So keep all this stuff in mind next time you are auditioning or showcasing.   It’s all in your head.   Do the work, practice, be prepared and depend upon the professionalism you have developed.  And you have.    The more you play, and the more you see others play, the more professional you should become. 

This past week end I heard many songwriters at the Far-West Folk Alliance Conference (www.far-west.org) and one of the things that stood out amongst the really great lyric writers there was the way the first line that they sang lured you into their songs.   I noticed this while I was listening to Chuck Pyle (www.chuckpyle.com) and then Dirk Hamilton (www.dirkhamilton.com), and the experience forced me to listen to the opening of everyone’s songs in a different light.

Now, I was up for essential forty eight hours (tho I did get naps here and there—in the elevator, while I was showering, etc) and I heard as much music as I could squeeze in.  

If, just this once, I may digress for a moment?   My feeling is that so many people come to hear me, that the least I can do is hear as many people as I can.   Many times that means not full sets but one or two songs, so there’s a lot of music and very little sleep in this brain of mine.   I don’t remember the exact lines that Chuck or Dirk ( or anyone else for that matter) sang, I only remember that they were very effective in drawing me into the song immediately.

So today, I would like to talk about that.    What is it that you are doing, creating, performing, saying, writing, that is drawing people into your work.   Making them actually want to find out what you are going to say and / or sing and where you are going to take them.

There are essentially two doorways that exist at the beginning of each song and one leads to the other and if they don’t then you don’t get many folks going through the doorway to see what is on the other side—that being your song.

Though I have heard songs begun with singing, almost all of them begin with an musical intro.   And let me say that strumming a chord for four to eight bars is not compelling, alluring or even interesting, unless you have never heard a guitar, or a chord, or strumming ever before.   

If you are not a real guitarist or musician, please don’t spend four to sixteen bars demonstrating it.   All you need to do is strum  or play the chord and then start singing.     That way you don’t lose the folks that are expecting more than a rudimentary understanding of the instrument and the art of composition, and there are more of them than you realize.    And that way, you are doing something unique. 

Think about it.   How many songs have you actually heard that begin with one chord hit once and then the song begins?    I remember Hard Days Night by the Beatles (www.beatles.com) and Tragedy by Thomas Wayne  and Mr. Blue by the Fleetwoods.    There are probably more, but they don’t present themselves to my post music conference brain.  

Almost all songs and recordings start with a musical motif, a progression, a lick, something that is recognizeable and frequently repeated several times throughout the song.

And this musical motif is created to draw you into the song.

Then, once you are are drawn in to the music, the lyrics begin, and they better keep the momentum going or you lose the audience and your career.

I heard one fellow who was so remarkable musical at the conference this weekend.   Every song began with such an alluring intro that I couldn’t wait to hear what came next.  Unfortunately, nothing came next.   No lyric that connected with me as poetry or on some personal level or just so brilliant that I couldn’t resist it.

Even though I loved the musical feel of the songs and the joy with which the songs were played, the focus was the the singer songwriter and I connected with nothing lyrically.

I came away thinking, “What was wrong there?   I loved this guy and his musicality.  Why am I disappointed?  Why am I dissatisfied?”

You need to make people want to hear what comes next.   Start with a musical intro that creates that desire and then say something that makes them want to hear what comes next.    We all want to be enriched, blown away, thrilled, and made happy or satisfied or unable to stop tapping our foot or clapping our hands.

Make that happen.   If you don’t know how then listen to the recordings that thrill you the most.   What is happening there?  What drew you in?   The rhythm?    The chords?   The cluster of sound?   The lyric?   Whatever it is, that’s what you are competing with, every song, every time.   

Good luck… to us all.

Tomorrow I am driving down to Irvine to the Far West Folk Alliance (www.far-west.org) , where I will be doing a premier showcase to try to convince people that I am worth of some work and some recognition.

Since I began Datamusicata, I have been trying to think of everything that might help you and may have appeared like someone who had it completely together.  Nothing could be further from the truth.   I waste more time than I should.  I practice less than I should.   I prioritize like a person who either has an eternity to fix mistakes or else I am a complete idiot.

My plan when I got back from the road was to practice every single day the set that I would do at Far West to ascertain that I presented my best efforts.

And true to my word (for the first day back) I did practice.  Then life interceded and the recording of my new CD, Backstage at the Resurrection interceded and I ended up practicing the set…NOT AT ALL.

Now it’s Thursday and I have some of Friday and Saturday to practice a little.    I have said this before and I know it to be true.   Practicing fifteen minutes every day takes you farther than practicing two hours once a week.

I have made a peculiar choice here.   I was so excited to work on this CD, that I want done before the end of November , that I may have blown another opportunity to make a difference in my own life.

On the plus side is the fact that I have practiced and performed tens of thousands of hours in my life and do have a professional level of expertise to fall back on.   But that’s not the same as simply being completely prepared, not just with the guitar and the voice, but mentally.  Knowing that I did the work would make it much easier psychologically to deliver the goods.

As it is, I will practice tonight (it’s now 9:30 pm) and I will practice at the hotel tomorrow and again on Saturday and will do the best show I know how, but I wish I had followed the suggestions and the what I know to be truths that I have tried to impart to you here at Datamusicata.

I will try to post every day from the conference just to keep you all in the loop about one of these music networking conferences in case you haven’t been to one and I will try to give you an honest assessment of my showcase.

Now I’ve got to go practice…finally.   Shame on me.

Year ago, I was on the road with Bonnie Raitt, doing some northern California dates and a harmonica player by the name of Norton Buffalo (www.norton-buffalo.com)  sat in.   He was brilliant, musical and a really fine fellow.   Even though I was a relative unknown, he treated me like a peer.  He was gracious, accessible and fun.

Through the years our paths crossed at various gigs and functions and he was never less than he appeared the first time I met him.  And it turns out that not only was he a brilliant player, but everyone knew it.   He wore his fame very comfortably and was never  too cool to be approached.  He always returned emails and calls from me.

 I just heard of his demise on October 30^th due to complications brought on by pneumonia.

He was only diagnosed with a problem a month ago.

I bring all this up to point out that the real artists are always nurturing and accessible to anyone who is approaching the craft, be it music, theatre or art.  They are always there, they don’t make anyone feel excluded.  

Someone told me years ago, that a real gentleman would never make anyone feel uncomfortable in their presence.  I always remembered it and strived to be that way.  And one of my inspirations was Norton.

If you are unfamiliar with his work (though I doubt it) his website will provide you with an estimable discography, biography and history.

He always delivered the goods when he was on stage or in the studio.   His is an admirable legacy.

We would all be better off if we emulated this fine musician.

Rest easy, Norton, you will be missed.