Exit - Stage Fright

Public Service Announcement: Glossophobia and You

Recently the topic of good old fashioned stage fright has been brought up by a couple friends of mine, neither of which I would classify as introverted, so I thought I'd give y'all my angle on it and how I've dealt with it... or still dealing with it as the case may be.

First of all, it never goes away to the point where it can't come back. It doesn't get 'cured' it just goes into remission. I've been caught off guard or pulled too far out of my comfort zone on stage and suddenly I feel the same way I did at my fourth grade piano recitals. So what do you do about it? How do you psych yourself up but not out?

Everyone wants you to succeed.
Well, 'in the Band' (I refer back to my Captive Free experience a lot here...) I was told that, "No one expects or wants to see you fail." Granted, the performing I do now isn't judged or competitive anymore, but it's generally good advice. The audience is for you, not against you. Chances are pretty good you aren't going to get heckled or boo'ed no matter how badly you think you screwed something up.

You are the only one who knows what you are going to do.
Again, this doesn't apply to the recital-scene, but really, the audience isn't sitting there with your sheetmusic. They don't know that you were supposed to be playing mezzopiano but it came out mezzoforte. On only ONE occassion I was with a friend who noticed that the local talent skipped the third verse and sang the first one over again. Once. Otherwise, people that are listening tend to discuss either how they like or dislike your rendition or how they agree or disagree with your interpretation.

You are your own worst critic, so be kind to yourself.
Let's face it, if you hose something, you know it. There's no denying it and it feels like every pupil in the audience is dialating trying to comprehend how such a flagrant error didn't drive you immediately off stage. Ok, so flip it around, think of a performance you saw where the actor/musician/whatnot flubbed up. Do you remember how many times they messed up, or just the fact that they did? So this leads my to a couple things... if you can't think of the last time you saw anyone else screw up on stage, then that proves point one. You haven't seen any mistakes because as a member of the audience you weren't looking for them, you were there to enjoy the program, not to tally errors. If you do remember a specifically poor performance, I guarantee that if you knew that person well enough to ask them where they thought things fell apart, their list would be 5 to 10 times longer than yours. Again, as the audience, you don't know what the artist's intended result is. Sure, they probably don't want to hit the wrong note or sing out of key, but there's a whole realm of errors that are really only pointed out when the performer lets everyone know that they messed up... which brings me to my next point.

Kill your Tell.
The previous points are psychological, this one however has a very physical manifestation. More often than not, you'll be the one to let the audience in on your mistakes. You may not be able to stop your face from turning red or your knees from shaking, but you can stop yourself from giving the audience too many clues to your current feelings about your performance. Don't roll your eyes at yourself. Don't deflate no matter how defeated you feel. And don't flinch. One of my good friends plays excellent piano, but back in the day, you wouldn't know it by watching. If you closed your eyes, the music that flowed out was amazing, as if you were being taken on a journey. However if you opened your eyes, every 'step off the path' was indicated by the pianists shoulders. Either they were clentched up after a quick mistake or drooping with defeat when the music didn't end up where it was 'supposed' to. As an audience, you're along for the ride. As the artist, you dictate the path. And some of the most critical musical moments happen when you allow yourself to be swept up by a performance... even when it's your own.

Learn to smile through anything.
Channel that wince, eye-roll, and flinch into your smile. It takes some work, but it can be done. If you have to indicate that something just went horribly wrong, smiling is socially acceptable. Especially since you should probably be smiling anyway. It conveys confidence and can camouflage all kinds of things. More importantly though, psychologically, it keeps the feedback loop positive. If you look out into the audience with the 'I just hit the windshield' look on your face, you're going to see a bunch of people bracing for a trainwreck. If however, you do the opposite and muster up the, 'My, my, wasn't that awkward, anyone for tea?' smile you'll notice people nodding and smiling back. This is especially true if you're performing with others. Glaring or scowling at another musician on stage, regardless of fault, is totally unacceptable. You all know already know something went bad, and if you're really ticked about the bobble, talk to them afterwards and work it out. Any finger pointing done on stage basically punishes the audience and makes every one look bad. I think every musician has a, 'I can't believe that just happened' or a 'Dude, that totally sucked' smile. Sometimes it's even outright laughter, but the important thing is that the show goes on and heck... now you're all smiling.

Then there's practice...
Yeah, you knew it was coming... the more comfortable you are with the content of what you're performing, the less likely you are to be thrown off in the first place, and the more likely you will be able to stay focused after a flub. It's easier to get back into rhythm when your fingers and mind know the groove. One of the best bits of advice I got when learning guitar was to always keep the right hand strumming, regardless of how well (or poorly) your left hand is keeping up. Your left hand will learn the fingerings for various chords with repetition, but if you stop the rhythm every time your left hand misses something then it will never be trained to make quicker chord changes. The other trick with practicing is to make a mental distinction between technical practicing and performance practicing. By technical practice I mean that you are working on the nuts and bolts of whatever you intend to perform. Whether that means memorizing lyrics or repeating a tricky passage over and over, the point is that when you hit a bump, you stop there and smooth it out. You don't have to start from the begining and similarly you don't have to play all the way through a piece before going back to a trouble spot. Now's the time to work through the problems. Once you're fairly comfortable with the mechanics of what you are going to be presenting, then it's important to do work on the performance angle. For me that means standing, singing, and playing guitar as I would when I'm performing. Standing helps me breathe right, and I try to sing and play at the volume and tempo that I plan to perform at. It took some getting used to... hearing my own voice at full volume... in my basement... singing to myself. But it makes a huge difference when it's time to hit the stage, because my ears know what it's supposed to sound like and my body knows what it's supposed to feel like. I know which notes I can grind out and which ones are going to crack if I don't support them.

Just do it.
The bottom line is that the more you are in front of a crowd, the less it's going to phase you. The thing that sculpted my stage presents the most was touring for a year and performing upwards of 8 times a week. After that year I had learned how to perform exhausted, forgive myself for saying stupid stuff into a mic, and recover from all manner of musical goof. Now, pretty much any performing I do is easy and enjoyable by comparision. So once you break the ice, keep doing it.


As you get more comfortable performing, allow yourself to branch out. If you are really uncomfortable talking into a microphone start out easy. Compliment someone. Thank the audience for coming out. Tell people why you picked a certain piece to perform or why it's worth hearing. If you get really ambitious, tell a joke. Learn a new instrument. Find a new venue. Keep pushing yourself until your regular gigs don't shake you any more.

I've been trying to catch as many aspects of stage fright as I can, but I know there's more to be said about tryouts, competitions, and inter-band dynamics. Those will have to be covered in another blog or something.

Thanks for reading this far. *SMILE* You've been a great audience and thanks for spending some time with me. Drive safe, and I'll see you next time!