Why does the caged gaijin sing?

Today was a day of performances. For once I wasn't involved in any of them. Merely a spectator this time, I sat, and watched, and took pictures, and enjoyed the show.

First I went to Kobe, where a cafe was celebrating its second anniversary. My friends' group, "LHYRYHKK" or something like that (I can never quite get the spelling) was performing, as well as Canary-ian, who performed with us at Osakapella's 5th anniversary party. All of these groups are horrendously incestuous - Yuka and Macky and Atsuko from Canary-ian are also in Urara 6, the group I'm in with two other ex-Osakapella members, and I believe all of the members of LYHYRHKK are also current or former members of Osakapella. In fact, I went to Tin's Hall in the evening to see my friends' reggae band, The Native Tongues, perform, and that group includes four members of Urara6, including nonoverlapping members from both of the two aforementioned groups. But that's not my actual point - just a curious aside.


[My only photo from LHYKRHHK's performance in Kobe today that I didn't take with somebody else's camera]

My point today is that it was interesting to see the difference in poise and stage presence between the different groups and different members of each group. I won't go through all the performers, but a few caught my eye.

One was a woman who played the guitar at the first show. She walked up on stage with her guitar, almost shaking. She explained, eyes averted, that she had never performed in front of people before, and that she might have to stop in the middle of the song because she was so nervous. She played for us, and hit pretty much all the right notes, although her nervousness expressed itself in many slips, squeaks, and small mistakes. For one song she actually had a helper come up and conduct the rhythm for her.

Compare that to this amazing guy who performed tonight. He was a fantastic solo violin player, with a wireless pickup on his fiddle so he could walk through the audience sawing away on a vaguely Scottish- or Irish-sounding tune with bits of blues riffs, some classical melodies, and plenty of hoedown-style double-stops to add color and energy. He had total command of his instrument, was grinning the whole time while he fired up the audience, all of us excited and clapping in time. Later he started jamming with the reggae band as well.

I'm sure these two people saw the process of performance in completely different ways. This is all speculation, of course, but I would guess that the guitarist probably saw this as a challenge that she hoped she was up to - a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to prove her abilities to herself in front of a live audience. Her focus, I imagine, was on the instrument, the music, and the challenge of putting it all together to produce a song that people, hopefully, would enjoy. I think the Japanese word that captures the essence of this (as Lito and I were talking about today) is happyoukai (発表会), described in Jim Breen's EDICT dictionary as "recital (i.e. of music, by a pupil)".

On the other hand, I would imagine that the violin player saw today in a very different light. His confidence with the instrument or his musical ability were certainly not in question. I doubt he even saw the evening as a challenge. Rather, I am imagining that he saw it simply as an opportunity to have fun, to share his joy and passion for music with the crowd, and to spend some time doing the thing he loves to do.

There is a dramatic difference between these two mindsets. Obviously, the latter is generally more enjoyable for the audience, but the former certainly demands a great deal more courage, and can be invaluable to the performer. There is a wide continuum in between these two extremes, but this qualitative difference is important.

The focus is quite different as well. Beginners tend to focus on themselves and the challenge of the task. Higher-level performers focus on the audience. The task is merely a medium that enhances their ability to be expressive.

By the way, this task-focused mentality is not limited only to beginners. I was at a party several years ago near Kobe where a Japanese guy and I had each brought our guitars. He was a lead guitarist, and I tend to just enjoy playing chords, so I suggested that we jam. I started laying down a 12-bar blues pattern for him to solo over, and he stared at me blankly, uncomprehending of what I expected him to do. Changing tactics, I then suggested a few simple songs and showed him the chords. Still, he seemed puzzled and unable to follow along. Finally, he offered to show me what he could play, and pulled out a book of sheet music, a music stand, and a CD player. Playing the background music to a Yngwie Malmsteen song on the CD player, he picked up his pick, switched on the distortion on his portable guitar amp, and dove into an intense speed-metal guitar solo. His fingers raked up and down the fretboard with grace, accuracy, and blistering speed, spiraling through scales and modes I'd probably have to pull out my old music theory books to name. I reckon he played the entire solo perfectly, down to every thirty-second note in the sheet music.

And yet... I would still put him in the same category as the woman who played today.

Now I am trying to think of fields where I have transcended the task-focused mindset. Skiing is probably one such field - when I ski, I'm usually more concerned with where I'm going, or what the scenery looks like, or who I'm with, than I am about the mechanics of skiing, which are now instinctive to me.

With guitar and singing, I feel like I'm almost there, as long as the difficulty level isn't too high. I'm not quite there yet, though. I often find myself thinking more about myself and my group than I do about the audience, but on the other hand, many aspects of singing have become second-nature to me, and rather than actively think about those things, I can focus on the emotion and expression of the song.

One of the best concerts I've ever been to was when I saw Poison live in 1997. Musically, I've seen much better bands, but for some reason, I truly enjoyed the Poison show, and not just for the entertainment value of seeing people in their late 30's squeezing back into their ripped jeans and heavy metal T-shirts from the 80's. The group did an amazing job of connecting with the audience. I felt engaged, part of the show. The band wasn't just playing at a venue to produce income - they were playing for us. Most bands don't give me that feeling.

It's that feeling that I want to create when I sing and play, and I think that's going to be the goal for my musical development in the near future. I've had enough happyoukais, and now I want to get to a level where I can really perform and fully connect with the audience.

Ok, this post is long enough, so I won't expound any more on this topic. It is left as an exercise to the student to apply this principle to (choose one):

(a) go
(b) love life
(c) robotics
(d) teaching
(e) maintaining friendships
(f) fitness
(g) cleaning my bathroom
(h) fashion
(i) blogging
(j) life in general