Intestinal Fortitude

originally published in Sound Waves Magazine October 2019

No matter which musical level we’re on, it takes an inner strength beyond our talent and years of practiced skill to get through a show. No matter what our problems and distractions are, if we’re paid to be on stage, the show must go on. Nobody wants to have a meltdown or see a meltdown. Nobody wants to be a nervous ninny or be forced to watch one. There are countless talented people in the world whose gifts shall never see the light of day because of the affliction we call “stage fright.” In other words, they just don’t have the guts to get out there.

It’s a sad truth, but even the Wizard of Oz’s Lion figured out eventually how to reach for courage. Ya just gotta go for it. The fearless prevail, always, and in all things.

When not a single soul is paying attention to your talent in the corner, and the bar manager says you can just stop if you want, you go deep, and keep going.

When you’re Taylor Swift and there’s a hundred thousand people in the audience waiting on your next move, you bring it.

When you’re the barbershop quartet at Magic Kingdom and it’s 100 degrees out with 100 percent humidity and you can barely breathe never mind hold the high note, you take a deep breath and hold the high note.

When you’re the main stage band at Animal Kingdom, in the same oppressive weather, and you have to jump around on stage to keep the crowd interested, while dying, you worry about dying later.

When you’ve got your first gig with a new band and you freeze trying to sing the song “Freeze Frame” by J. Geils, you un-freeze yourself and get going on the not that difficult after all lyrics.

When your guitar string breaks in the middle of a song in the middle of a high-profile gig, you play around those notes and make it work.

And at the scariest moment of all, performing at your first school recital, you just look out at mom and dad and hope the ice cream is coming soon.

The same can be said for dancers, athletes and actors. The difference is always how you handle the butterflies in your stomach; the gut-wrenching fear of public failure. To perform, it just takes guts. Or as I like to say, intestinal fortitude, and it makes all the difference.

I like to take the opportunity during the Halloween season to brush up on my anti-scaredy-pants skills. I watch scary movies. I go to haunted houses. I light eerie candles. I eat questionable candy. It’s all part of my personal fortification plan. Somebody’s gotta do this stuff! Happy Halloween!

pumpkin

Out of the Closet

originally published in Sound Waves Magazine January 2019

It has come to my attention, because due to certain circumstances I have been forced to actually pay attention to people – listening to what they are saying – casually observing them – caring about them – instead of worrying about my dogs all the time, that there are a boatload of closet musicians out there.  You know, dudes who only play in basements or their bedrooms – some even with other closet musicians.  It’s like a secret society of maestros and geniuses who don’t play in bands, don’t play in bars, and basically just shy away from spotlights all together.  They timidly ask to try out a guitar in a music store and proceed to shred like some reincarnation of Stevie Ray Vaughan or Hendrix, in their own world, with pure joy on their faces, while the rest of us struggle to not keep our mouths agape at what we are seeing and hearing.  Screams from onlookers ranging from “Oh My God!” to “Who are you?” to “What the heck are you doing in a dump like this?” ensue.  I have just been informed that some of these people actually change their guitar strings, repair their amps and polish and preen their instruments just to get together with other like-minded folk – FOR NO REASON WHATSOEVER than to play in the same key with others.  It’s like those guys at the end of “Titanic” who continue playing while the waters rise around them and the leader calmly states, “Gentlemen, it has been a privilege playing with you tonight.”

Yes, these people exist.  And there are a lot of them.  Any attempt by me or anybody else to urge them to share their awesomeness in a public venue is answered with various apprehensive responses such as, “Oh no, I couldn’t play like this in public,” or, “I don’t like the bar scene,” or, “That’s not why I play.”  What the heck is wrong with these people?!  It’s sort of like how Heaven’s got one hell of a band, but it’s right here on earth, in somebody’s old broken-down barn.

And then there’s me – complaining complaining complaining about band practice, the drudgery of the load-in and the load-out, the blank stares from the audience, the pains and pitfalls of booking gigs, the haggling over money, song choices, writers’ block, band drama, and so on and so on and so on.  Where’s the joy?  Where did it go?  Am I doing it all wrong?  Why can’t I bottle up that joy oozing from those guys’ faces and have it emanate in a performance setting?  What the heck is wrong with me?!

Maybe the closet people really do have it all figured out, and I just don’t yet.  Maybe it’s because I don’t say enough – “Gentlemen, it has been a privilege playing with you tonight.”

Okay, I’ve said it.  Whew! I feel better already!  So, rock on people (wherever you’re hiding.)

Picture of Fantastic Old Wardrobe Closet Fashioned Cedar Wooden | Unicareplus Old Wardrobe Closet

I wrote a book about this stuff!  “They Made Me Play a Polka” is available here:  https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1725534584/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i0