: I'm going to have to chalk this one up as another life-changing moment
First live performance of any of my songs to what could be convincingly called a public audience (though at the Six Times Thirty Degrees Apart From My Ethics blog, I mentioned how I performed a song in front of a sixth-form student audience of probably a minimun of 250; this was, at best, an order of magnitude lower, but it's who they were that was critical).
It was at an open-mic night in a local pub 20 minutes walk from the university; Aldi, about 200m further south, is arguably the southern edge of the student quarter, and the buildings in between include the infamous Jesters nightclub, a venue an acquaintance of mine has likened to 'a house party in a public toilet'. This pub isn't that bad in comparison (not that I can speak from experience of Jesters), though smoking is still allowed throughout - July cannot come soon enough. And not just for that reason, of course.
It's worth noting that David Sneddon (and yes, I do believe it's that David Sneddon) played here recently, and wasn't even the headlining act, trumped by some rock group with a MySluts page and a head of specialist media attention. I can't even remember their name offhand, and that has to say something. (No, I didn't go, though I did briefly consider it. If it had been Alex Parks...)
Anyway, my performance. I went in, not quite sure what I could do. The open-mic night allows for just about anything in theory - in practice, there were a lot of acoustic guitarists. Trying desperately to recall a song I had written that I could sing, I eventually tried one I thought I could not. That belief was misplaced, and so I ended up singing it. Just me at the mic, unaccompanied, which possibly suited the song although a piano would have helped. By now, I had spent a few minutes speaking to a young lady called Becky, to whom we shall return, and had had a soft drink purchased for me by a large black male, friendlier than the stereotype of his ilk by several orders of magnitude. I felt confident in many ways, but nerves suddenly crept in.
No need. I calmed down courtesy of a brief impersonation of the host of both North American versions of the Miljoenenjacht endgame. Then I introduced the song, which was written as a protest song at least two years ago but is still probably amongst the best (least-worst?) songs I've written (and, as I said, it's relevant now 'and probably will still be in 2017').
Then I sung, and I was pleasantly surprised at how well it went. In particular, the part of the song I thought was beyond me - a part that crossed the break in my voice - went absolutely fine.
I started talking to Becky again. Becky sings and plays piano, and she implied that this is something she at least wants to do for a living. This could easily be associated with a certain arrogance, but it most certainly was not; she was very open, remarkably generous in her praise for me (I had to laugh at her praising my supposedly wide range when in fact I'd stretched myself outside the range Gemma says I should use...) while still mentioning how the addition of accompaniment may well have been useful. (She also asserted that I'll be more creatively productive as my piano-playing improves, and correctly guessed that my voice was improving despite the fact she hadn't heard me at any earlier time.)
Eventually this became a very detailed conversation about a number of things, mostly talking about my coping mechanisms regarding autism-related anomalies such as my need to avoid sensory overload (which I explained as a reason for my tendency towards soft music, one that Becky shares), though with the odd detour into other areas (and at last, I've found someone outside the fandom who dislikes the path Noel's £250,000 Gambling Game is following; it's probably a good thing she didn't see the episode earlier that day, though she was willing to hear a spoiler as it pertained to the conversation thread).
Oh, all this came about because karaoke at the Student Union pub was delayed by a performance in the adjacent building. I placed my request for a song to perform early, then left, and two hours later returned, my song left in the queue so that I could perform it almost immediately after my arrival.
And just about the first face I saw was Gemma's. As such, she got to hear me mangle Don't Know Why far less dramatically than I mangled You'll Never Walk Alone the last time she heard me there. 'Why did you crouch down?', she asked. The answer I should have given, but didn't think of; the lights were 50% red, 50% blue and 100% shining in my eyes. The crouching halfway through the song was an attempt to minimise the effects of these lights. I'd probably have felt far more comfortable if the lighting was very dim and atmospheric (yes, of course I'm thinking of the Millionaire set here), but at least they weren't moving.
Long-term goal, which I told Becky and have previously told others; produce an album of self-penned music by July 20, 2008. That's probably twelve months to at least gain enough competence to accompany myself and four months to record my efforts, with songs probably being a mixture of songs written in these next twelve months and songs already in a state of completion sans arrangements.
First live performance of any of my songs to what could be convincingly called a public audience (though at the Six Times Thirty Degrees Apart From My Ethics blog, I mentioned how I performed a song in front of a sixth-form student audience of probably a minimun of 250; this was, at best, an order of magnitude lower, but it's who they were that was critical).
It was at an open-mic night in a local pub 20 minutes walk from the university; Aldi, about 200m further south, is arguably the southern edge of the student quarter, and the buildings in between include the infamous Jesters nightclub, a venue an acquaintance of mine has likened to 'a house party in a public toilet'. This pub isn't that bad in comparison (not that I can speak from experience of Jesters), though smoking is still allowed throughout - July cannot come soon enough. And not just for that reason, of course.
It's worth noting that David Sneddon (and yes, I do believe it's that David Sneddon) played here recently, and wasn't even the headlining act, trumped by some rock group with a MySluts page and a head of specialist media attention. I can't even remember their name offhand, and that has to say something. (No, I didn't go, though I did briefly consider it. If it had been Alex Parks...)
Anyway, my performance. I went in, not quite sure what I could do. The open-mic night allows for just about anything in theory - in practice, there were a lot of acoustic guitarists. Trying desperately to recall a song I had written that I could sing, I eventually tried one I thought I could not. That belief was misplaced, and so I ended up singing it. Just me at the mic, unaccompanied, which possibly suited the song although a piano would have helped. By now, I had spent a few minutes speaking to a young lady called Becky, to whom we shall return, and had had a soft drink purchased for me by a large black male, friendlier than the stereotype of his ilk by several orders of magnitude. I felt confident in many ways, but nerves suddenly crept in.
No need. I calmed down courtesy of a brief impersonation of the host of both North American versions of the Miljoenenjacht endgame. Then I introduced the song, which was written as a protest song at least two years ago but is still probably amongst the best (least-worst?) songs I've written (and, as I said, it's relevant now 'and probably will still be in 2017').
Then I sung, and I was pleasantly surprised at how well it went. In particular, the part of the song I thought was beyond me - a part that crossed the break in my voice - went absolutely fine.
I started talking to Becky again. Becky sings and plays piano, and she implied that this is something she at least wants to do for a living. This could easily be associated with a certain arrogance, but it most certainly was not; she was very open, remarkably generous in her praise for me (I had to laugh at her praising my supposedly wide range when in fact I'd stretched myself outside the range Gemma says I should use...) while still mentioning how the addition of accompaniment may well have been useful. (She also asserted that I'll be more creatively productive as my piano-playing improves, and correctly guessed that my voice was improving despite the fact she hadn't heard me at any earlier time.)
Eventually this became a very detailed conversation about a number of things, mostly talking about my coping mechanisms regarding autism-related anomalies such as my need to avoid sensory overload (which I explained as a reason for my tendency towards soft music, one that Becky shares), though with the odd detour into other areas (and at last, I've found someone outside the fandom who dislikes the path Noel's £250,000 Gambling Game is following; it's probably a good thing she didn't see the episode earlier that day, though she was willing to hear a spoiler as it pertained to the conversation thread).
Oh, all this came about because karaoke at the Student Union pub was delayed by a performance in the adjacent building. I placed my request for a song to perform early, then left, and two hours later returned, my song left in the queue so that I could perform it almost immediately after my arrival.
And just about the first face I saw was Gemma's. As such, she got to hear me mangle Don't Know Why far less dramatically than I mangled You'll Never Walk Alone the last time she heard me there. 'Why did you crouch down?', she asked. The answer I should have given, but didn't think of; the lights were 50% red, 50% blue and 100% shining in my eyes. The crouching halfway through the song was an attempt to minimise the effects of these lights. I'd probably have felt far more comfortable if the lighting was very dim and atmospheric (yes, of course I'm thinking of the Millionaire set here), but at least they weren't moving.
Long-term goal, which I told Becky and have previously told others; produce an album of self-penned music by July 20, 2008. That's probably twelve months to at least gain enough competence to accompany myself and four months to record my efforts, with songs probably being a mixture of songs written in these next twelve months and songs already in a state of completion sans arrangements.