The trajectory of my life and career has taken several turns over the years, but one thing has remained the same: a love for live storytelling. Growing up on stage in both drama and music, I was obsessed with the hokey, the cheesy, and the crowd-pleasing (still am). There was something profound about the experience of being the center of attention and taking the audience with me on the journey of joy.
Over time as I slid away from the over-the-top characters in favor of more intimate musical settings, often with my own music, I was shocked to discover performance anxieties and doubts that I didn’t know I had. I found that I didn’t take up space, I didn’t take solos, I turned down my volume. These struggles continued to feel like a barrier in my career, and it seemed like my adoration for performing was fading away, even with my passion for the music I was creating.
In a slow pivot to teaching, I still grieved my performing life often, wishing there was more reasons to play pretend – to make it easy. In theatre school, the concept of “showing” and “telling” comes to mind – a common subject in acting, mostly related to monologues and songs. With your energy and communication with the audience and other players, are you telling them how they should feel, or is it shown? Thinking of film or theatre that moved you – what did the actors do? Did you cry because they did, or did you cry because they tried not to?
In broad strokes (and ignoring various other schools of acting technique), the secret behind powerful, believable, and memorable performances is not high kicks and hamming it up – it’s vulnerability. It’s something that can be exceptionally difficult to tap into, as it’s something innately frightening, embarrassing, and uncomfortable. Even when playing odd characters, the greatest actors have learned how to exist honestly in imaginary circumstances, bringing a surprising truth to what the audience witnesses.
So, what’s my point? How does this translate or apply to contemporary music teaching and the modern band classroom? Well, while many musicians (especially guitarists and vocalists) are intuitive performers that know how to entertain a crowd in every way, the showboating is something they do alone. There’s a difference between a strong performative presence (think Mick Jagger, Beyonce, Flea) and someone who steals the attention. A key element here is awareness. Awareness of the audience, awareness of yourself, and (most importantly) awareness of the other musicians.
As we all know, the “rock star” persona is often just that, and when meeting our heroes off the stage we are met with (thankfully) much less fantastical, much more real human beings. This tool – to inhabit this masterful performer character – can eliminate stage fright and make an incredible difference onstage. These stars have created imaginary circumstances to perform honestly within. Though there is an element of make believe – they still listen, they still see, they still communicate with all the players involved.
This, then, is where vulnerability creeps in. There is a delicate balance between honesty and façade, real and fake, what’s exposed and what’s exposé. Students in the modern band classroom often go one of two ways: Some retreat inward – either from anxieties or lack of preparation. Their eyes go blank, they move through the motions, and they are fully unaware of changes and groove around them. Others may pour outward – either from overconfidence or overcompensation. Overeager solos, dancing, crowd work – and just as unaware of the rest of the band.
Theatre strategies can teach the presence part of the equation – can you exist in this space, communicating and listening to other musicians? If so, your comfort, joy, and emotion is palpable already, and any crowd-pleasing moves are just icing on the cake. One way I’ve tapped into this with students is by creating dramatic narratives for them to work with. Eyerolls and discomfort abound when this is introduced, but when musicians are asked to want something from someone else, connect over a cause, or simply use the music to get some sort of result, the change can be astounding. Without the audience really knowing why, the group is tighter, bolder, and more dynamic. It’s not about being a theatre kid – it’s about being fully present with one another, and believing it every step of the way.
