The Early Days of Playing Live

*This is an old blog from 2018.

“And if you decide to go, at the end of my show, I'll thank you for changing my world”...

THE PRESENT...

Boy my hands are cold

I unplugged my guitar and slowly walked away from the stage. As I walked I bent my head down avoiding eye contact in search for my seat. I sat down and inside I knew I had just played a really good gig at The Otley Folk Festival; an event I was honoured to be playing at. As I sat down a few audience members came up to me and said some pretty damn nice things about the songs I write, and the way I sing, including a drunk lady who said, "that was f'ing beautiful" (mid-set!) for a song I recently wrote called 'Tightrope Walkers'. One hour prior I had walked onto the stage with my hands shaking in my pockets.

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Before the gig had begun I sat there watching the artist on before me. He had a really good voice, and he was a very strong guitar player. I truly enjoyed his set, but I was also itching to get on and play. You see it was one of those classic Yorkshire Autumn mornings, crisp, grey and pretty beautiful. There was one problem, and this is why I was dying to get on stage, it was freezing. When my name got called I stood up and started to walk to the stage (always looking down). My hands were shaking tremendously as I got closer to the outside stage due to the crisp conditions. They continued to shake during the soundcheck. I started to think that this may make playing the guitar harder than usual. That feeling reminded me of a time where my hands struggled to play for different reasons...

Being awkward

I’m quite an awkward person who dabbles in and out of being quiet, so playing and singing music in front of anyone was always going to be one hell of a terrifying task. I'm also very aware that it's quite an old fashioned style of music which people aren't too used to hearing nowadays so that can add to the unknown. One thing that you may notice if you have seen me play live, is that through all types of gigs (or is it gigging?) I say as little words as possible throughout a set. In fact, the more I’ve played the less I talk (I reckon I spoke no more than 10 words on stage at The Otley Folk Festival during the hour set). There are two very good reasons for this:

Firstly - My favourite artist of all time is Bob Dylan, his influence has been unbelievable to me. As I am sure you have all studied my other blogs intently, or simply listened to me talk, you’ll notice quite quickly my love for Dylan. Whether it’s his amazing songs, his style, or simply naming my cat after one of his songs, being Percy’s Song (fun fact, I am listening to that as I write, and Percy my kitten is sitting on me). Regardless, if you ask me about music, Dylan will come up. He rarely ever talks through sets, and often comes across as quite a grumpy sod (there’s nothing wrong with that, for that I am sure.)

Secondly - When nervous, my mouth speaks quicker than my brain thinks.

You see, I always knew gigging wouldn't come easy to me, as in general music didn’t come easy to me either. I never had lessons in singing or guitar(ing). The only thing I picked up pretty fast was songwriting, which is the least of your worries on stage.

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BACK TO THE PAST...

Open Mic - Oh God, everyone has to start somewhere

On the horizon of a ticketed event where my name was on the poster (THE POSTER!), I knew I had to get some experience of playing live, and the quickest and most accessible way to do that is Open Mic. I’m sure I don’t speak for everyone, but to me this was a truly terrifying prospect. I had never played in front of anyone in my life, so begrudgingly I decided to find a nice little pub and give it a go.

I felt okay travelling there. I’m also very good at hiding my feelings but inside my nerves were on the edge, but still manageable. I went to the bar slightly trembling and muttered:

“I’m here for the open mic.”

It was at this moment I started to panic. My heart started to thump through my ribs and out towards the moon (Oh what the f### am I doing?). I looked ahead and saw my old friend alcohol 'the cause of, and solution to, all of life's problems’, as Homer Simpson would say.

“One Guinness please.”

The barmaid smiled at me and started to pour:

“You feeling okay?” She said.

“Great thanks” (I certainly wasn’t).

I started to watch the acts go on before me, and almost disappointingly they were all amazing. I was thinking to myself hopefully one person will make a mistake, or at least say they’re nervous (not in a horrid way, I just wanted someone to be on my level.) But everyone was pretty awesome which for how I was feeling, wasn’t great. The guy before me had played a banjo! (How can I follow that?) He came back to his seat as I finished my second delightful pint of Guinness. I then got the two-pint feeling and dare I say, I actually started to enjoy myself watching all the other top-notch artists play.

That enjoyment didn’t last long, as all of a sudden I heard my name called. I started to walk to the stage with my shoulders hunched over looking more like someone on death-row, than someone playing guitar in a nice little pub. I looked around the room and immediately my whole body tensed up. My hands struggled to hold onto the guitar through all the shaking. I got to the stage as the organiser of the Open Mic (who are always incredibly talented), asked me if I wanted to sit or stand. I sat and uttered the first on stage nonsense in my musical life:

“If I sit I may fall off the stool!”

The crowd laughed thinking I was making a joke, but I was being deadly serious. My first error and naivety was thinking a microphone wouldn’t project my voice around the room (obviously I was wrong).

As I plugged in my guitar I heard a disturbing sound of distortion which would have sounded better in The Shining rather than this friendly little pub. I reached my hand into the back pocket of my black jeans (why are they so damn skinny?). I pulled out a couple of folded pieces of paper as my hands shook uncontrollably. I turned to the organiser and asked for something to prop the lyrics on. He found a stool and I placed the first song onto it. It was a great little song called 'Hello Little Girl', which was apparently the first song ever written by John Lennon. Three minutes passed and the audience politely clapped. I’d love to go into detail of those three minutes but unfortunately all I can remember is getting the chord progression wrong. I don’t remember where I looked, or how I sang, but I had got through it. I very awkwardly laughed towards the audience. I had done it, amazing I thought. I turned to the organiser and he said:

“Next song?” (Oh f###! Do I have to?)

I bumbled my hands to the piece of paper that had 'Hello Little Girl' on, and dropped it to the floor. I looked at the organiser the same way a cat looks at its owners when you get their medicine out, ‘Oh God no!’

The next sheet of paper had an amazing little ballad by Jake Bugg called 'Country Song'. "Right" I thought, "this one I can do". But before going into the song I mumbled some nonsense about being nervous, and the crowd looked both supportive and terrified by my vulnerability. I think I managed to walk the line between endearing and unsettling, but I knew I could play this song, I really did. Three minutes later it was over (what happened? I don’t know!). I sat back down to my seat as the organiser said my name out once more. The audience clapped as I worried that I had just royally made a clown outta’ myself (no cameras, beautiful).

Real music and The X Factor

What followed was a complete change of emotion, the storm inside had become a sunrise. I had finally done it, three years of learning guitar and I had finally conquered a fear regardless of how it went. I then learned an amazing thing about real music and Open Mic. This wasn’t The X Factor where four overly judgemental confident pop stars who have had their musical careers laid swiftly on a plate for them as pretty as a fine steak and chips, this was real music. Each person in there wanted me to succeed, not tell me I was s###. Everyone has to start somewhere, everyone makes mistakes, everyone can play the wrong chord or sing in the wrong key, and anyone can put on a bad performance. But everyone in that pub supported me, they knew the feeling, they didn’t care if it was bad, they wanted me to use that experience and get better each time which I certainly did. Ironically whilst writing this, I was asked to go on The X Factor this year stating they want singer-songwriters. They had heard my BBC Introducing music and felt I should go on the show, I swiftly said no. I am more experienced now, but I absolutely hate seeing four very privileged people making fools of artists who go on the show and fail. It’s very easy to play the wrong chord, or sing in the wrong key when you’re nervous, and to hear, “You’ll never make it as a musician” by a bunch of millionaires in the public eye is what is wrong with music today. If I could make a bet, I would guarantee that Tom Waits wouldn’t get passed Round 1 of The X Factor. Why? Because his voice doesn’t fit the mould. However, his legacy will live on over anyone that ever judges or appears on that show.

Guidance never hurts

The way that I was treated in that pub gave me faith that there are so many good people out there just wanting to support you. The guy who played the banjo came up to me and said I was really good, I knew he was lying but it was still nice to hear. He had dreadlocks down to his ribs, and was one delightfully confident bloke. He put his hand on my shoulder and said:

“You did well kid. Some things I have learnt to help deal with nerves are not to use paper for the songs. I know it’s hard but it will help your song flow well, even if you get the words wrong, which is another thing that doesn’t matter. Also don’t worry about talking if you don’t like too, just introduce the song and let your talent do the talking. And I find picking a spot to look at when you’re singing is a great way to relax, just find an audience member and look towards them. But most of all, remember why you wanted to do it.”

Redemption Song

I knew I was awful that very day, but I’ve now played at Festivals, headlined gigs, and even represented Leeds at the 2023 Capital of Culture bid (Don’t mention the bid… Brexit). And I still feel nervous every time I get on stage, but because of practise and hard work I have conquered those performances. I still have a lot to learn, and I still know I can improve, but the support and advice I have received changed the road I was heading down.

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Back to Open Mic - One hour later

“Does anyone want to play again?” A few hands go up.

“Jack, do you fancy another go?” Oh Christ not again I thought.

I got up and grabbed my beautiful Faith Guitar and started to walk to the stage. I thought about what had happened barely one hour prior (Don’t talk. Don’t read. Pick a spot. Remember why you are doing it!) I put my hand on the paper in my back pocket, pulled it out and placed it on the ground. I looked for a random member in the audience and didn’t take my eyes off them (it’s not as intense as it sounds, it was dark and they wouldn’t have been able to see where I was directly looking).

“This is the lonesome death of Hattie Carroll.” (Bob Dylan… unusual.)

I went into the song and played a lot smoother than before. I wasn’t thinking about every chord and word as much, and even though it did go wrong on a couple of lines, I was still a hundred times happier with it than the blur that lay before. I finished the song and pulled the guitar strap over my head whilst walking back to my seat. Another lovely applause from a very supportive audience.

That night there were so many amazing artists that performed, and it’s only natural for that to get in your head and make you nervous. After the show finished I walked outside with my guitar. Two girls came up to me and said I was really good and asked if I’d like to play at an upcoming event they were organising. I responded in a bit of disbelief saying:

“What? After that?”

They nodded and smiled, saying words that would stick with me through every performance I’ve played since:

“But you sang from the heart”.

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LOOKING TO THE FUTURE...

I’ve changed a lot in the last few years, the main thing is being happier, because I've learnt to do what I want to do, and not try to be someone that other people want you to be. And also, if you have people who support you, then by-God (Good ol’ JR) it doesn’t matter if you go wrong or right, you can never really fail. (Cheese)