Dom Kureen returns. Guest opinion articles do not necessarily reflect the views of the publication. Ed
Nina Simone used to occasionally arrive on stage, scan the crowd and decide she didn’t like the look of them, so she wasn’t going to sing that night.
Quiet Quay
Aspects of that scenario remind me of a poetry gig I did at the Quay Arts a couple of months ago. A venue that doesn’t do intimacy as well as some others was filled with a fairly quiet, unreceptive audience, who had already shown reticence in their reaction to the initial acts.
I took to the stage, spitting out the best lines that I could muster, but sadly there was a paucity of passion throughout the room. Worse still, the band playing after me were sat near the stage and chatting freely as I attempted to recite the lyrics that I’d painstakingly tattooed into my mind’s eye over the past month.
Steep learning curve
It was a hit and miss evening, in which I was afforded positive feedback from the other spoken word acts in attendance and from members of the gathering who had been sat further back, but seemed at odds with the awkward vibes emanating from the front rows.
That’s not to say it was a bad experience, far from it. I actually took a lot from the event, having previously performed spoken word or comedy exclusively in tight knit, cosy venues or boisterous bars. The gathering wasn’t obnoxious that night, just passively low-key.
Setting the mood
It made me consider the many times in which I’ve attended live events, with my mood often dictating how much I enjoyed the show.
When I went to watch Bill Bailey not long ago, I was full of energy and happy with life and as a result of that (and Bailey being hilarious) I loved the gig.
When my slightly grouchy ex-girlfriend bought us tickets to see Robbie Williams it was different kettle of fish. I was suffering with man-flu, wanted to go to bed and in the company of someone offended by the sight of scantily clad female back-up dancers, so I couldn’t get into it.
I’m no huge fan of Robbie, but had I been in the presence of great friends and feeling on top of the world, I’m sure it would have gone down as a gig to be remembered in the annuls of my live music experiences.
Bumbling buffoon
As a performer I do therefore sympathise with those who have paid money to come and hear my ramblings, or witness my attempts to be part of a production. Some are dragged along unwillingly, not in the appropriate frame of mind, or the show isn’t what they expected to see.
I went to see a burlesque night a few months ago, the women were captivating, the singer was sultry and the stand-up comedian was bloody awful!
Sadly, as one of the organisers, his intermittent spiel continued to fill the air for the best part of 45 minutes, his ego running roughshod all over the event, as the act nobody had come to see remained ignorant to people filtering out of the room en mass.
Final edit
What this kind of self-serving claptrap highlights is that as a performer you need to be able to judge an audience.
That might not equate to emulating the behaviour of legendary divas such as Nina Simone, it just gives the common sense attitude, which decrees that editing the performance down a touch can be beneficial for everyone involved.
Image: andrianakis under CC BY 2.0
