What would be your perfect performing experience? Would you measure by your number of glitches or the number of smiles in the audience? The way you answer has a huge impact how well you connect with people.
I got my start as a songwriter in the early 80s, back in the days of Café Domingo, a funky folk coffeehouse in Saskatoon.
Yes, there was positive feedback or I wouldn’t have pursued songwriting and performing as such a big part of my creative life. But I was also aware of my limitations, both real and perceived. As the years passed and touring and performing became my bread and butter, I strove harder for the “perfect show,” by my own measure, of course. But, the more critical I became of myself, the more judgemental really, the more difficult certain shows became.
Eventually I came to believe that I really hadn’t been all that good at the beginning, just a new face and some interesting writing. I came to believe that I was much better twenty years in. After all, I’d made so many mistakes back then and now I had so much more experience and internally, was a different and more secure person.
A few years ago I began archiving some old tapes from my earliest gigs, recorded live. I might have listened to them right after the shows if I listened to them at all. When I dropped the old cassettes into the player, I couldn’t believe my ears.
I was good. I sang way better than I thought I did. I sounded far more confident in my patter bits than I remembered. I could see what other people had seen in me.
Over the years I’d put a lot of energy into second-guessing myself and for what? Just another reason I wish I’d connected with a performing mentor or coach — I needed to hear some regular positive reinforcement from someone in the business. (I’d had a few encouraging comments from some “names” but that’s not the same as ongoing help with performance development.)
I am at heart, and genetically, a perfectionist. I grew up with the mantra, “If you’re going to do a job, might as well do it right.” Within my limitations (i.e. an only adequate guitar player) I still wanted to be as perfect as possible. Little did I know that while I may not have always been perfect, from the very beginning I was actually good enough, and often times better.
Over to YouFive ways to murder your inner-perfectionist: 1) Invite a few friends to “My Most Horrible Show Ever.” Do everything you can badly: sappy lyrics, the odd pitch thing, instrument not quite tuned, eyes closed, and by way of introducing songs, you’re only allowed to say “This next song is…” Have fun with being the worst performer you can be and then take another look at your next great show and compare. 2) After every show write down every little thing that went badly in one column, and in the second column write down what you’re meant to learn from it and in the third column, steps you can take to change. Or acknowledge it was a one-off mistake. 3) Write to yourself. Imagine you were in the audience at your show and you’re a fan of yourself. What would that person say about your show? Be honest. 4) Check out an organization like this, take action, and put your performing issues into perspective. 5) Call a fellow performer and go for a drink. Or two. Give yourselves 15 minutes to fret and complain about yourselves and then get on with talking about what performing does for your inner-artist-entertainer-truthsayer, whatever it is you really are.