Reasons to Smile

A few years ago, I realized that the ratio of good gigs to disappointing ones is probably something like one in four.

By "good", though, I meant that it went as well as I wanted. Admittedly, my expectations for lots of gigs has been very high.

Instead of insisting that a "good" gig be a peak life experience, one that confirms the rightness of the path I've chosen and leaves me feeling at the top of my game, perhaps I should re-define it. After all, there are all kinds of useful and worthwhile experiences to be had in the arts and in work in general. I've heard of "good enough" parenting, the "good enough" marriage....how about the "good enough" gig?

"Good enough" would mean I feel generally satisfied about it: feel that I've done my best, done justice to the material and served the audience well...and that the audience was happy about it too. That is, there was an audience, and they got what they paid for, and they paid something reasonable, and everybody went away happy.

As I've performed publicly over the past ten years, I've noticed that I've tried to provide as much allowance as possible for the gigs that are more challenging: gigs like the subway. I've become accustomed to looking for the silver lining instead of focusing on what went "wrong". Here are some of the possible "upsides" of a difficult gig:

- I didn't get sunburned,
- That man in the front row was smiling,
- I kept my guitar in tune,
- I didn't feel nervous or embarrassed,
- I got paid,
- It's good practice.

In so many performance situations--really the majority of them--the unexpected is the norm. The best performers, whom I admire and try to emulate, are the ones who respond gently and positively to the changing winds of the situation.

Someone said to me that I should avoid performance settings that are difficult to control. Other performers insist on detailed contracts well in advance of the show, and if they don't receive them, they don't do the gig.

In an effort to be generous and responsive, I have often let these things go. Every time, I've regretted it.

I've found good things about the shows for sure--I've played my song "In Spite of It All" (I still find reasons to smile) with good cheer--and yet I've often come home feeling that I've lost something.

I haven't figured out whether it's more satisfying to play for myself in my living room (which I did before I started performing publicly) or to continue playing these dues (ahah...that was a Freudian slip, but I'm keeping it in).

Perhaps there's no way to completely control a performing career, or any career at all. (I wonder if the really big names have the same sorts of challenges, but in bigger stadiums.)

As I'm aiming high, it's essential that I see the beauty in the stones as well as the stars, because I'm likely to come face to face with them more often than I'd like.

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Speaking of stars...

The big musical event this weekend of course the Live8 Concert in Barrie. I believe that Adam Solomon, the marvellous guitar player I've mentioned who's also a TTC busker, is playing the concert as part of the African Guitar Summit.

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This weekend, an international conference is taking place in Toronto, whose delegates are wearing name tags and lanyards embossed with the slogan "I am responsible".

This is a good reminder for me. I am responsible for making every performance worthwhile for both myself and the audience. It's my responsibility to resist self-pity when any situation requires me to stretch beyond my comfort zone.

And I am responsible for making my career work.