Last night’s show with The Minor Leagues was amazing—I don’t think we’ve ever sounded that tight in any rehearsal ever; we did our planned encore and then another unplanned one; we sold a ton of merch; and all of us got paid a bit for playing. The audience was huge—this was the biggest crowd we’d played to since I’d been a member—and we all got a lot of positive feedback from both our friends and people we’d never met before. Sweet.
I’d been thinking all week about my outfit and the band’s collective onstage antics, and tangentially about the nature of stage presence in general. Having been on stage for the first time at age two and performing regularly since then, stage presence has been something I’ve worked on and thought about a lot. Simply put, the performers that I most enjoy are the ones that look like what they’re doing is effortless, no different from interacting with someone one-on-one…but so much stage time tells me that it’s anything but.
For me, adequate rehearsal is key. There’s a lot that can go wrong when you have a billion eyes on you, but knowing what you’re going to be doing and being really aware of your personal pitfalls so you can avoid them is the best way I’ve found to take control of the situation. This varies from person to person, but for me it means daily review of choreography/music/blocking/lyrics alone and several rehearsals weekly with my onstage cohorts.
There’s a lot to be said, also, for improvisation—that is, when you make a mistake or when something happens onstage that’s out of your control, being able to fake your way back to what you’re supposed to be doing. Forgotten choreography, mixed-up lyrics, someone standing in your place, a slick spot on the floor; a lighting/soung snafu—all of them mean you’ve got to think on your feet and figure out an acceptable alternative on the spot. [Case in point: last night's second encore was a song we hadn't practiced as a full band in over a month, and where one of us forgot the chord progressions, another of us stepped in a played his part until he caught up.] This is particularly important when you’re onstage with a group; not only do you have to look out for your own performance, you have to be aware of any issues anyone else might be having—issues with a guitar pedal not working; sudden injury or pain [true story: our drummer threw up during the set last night, and we had to deal with it on the fly]—and help each other out. There’s a lot of trust involved.
For me, being onstage is laden with ritual, and there’s no way I’d go on stage without a carefully planned stage outfit. This doesn’t have to be anything new or different from what I would normally wear, but it does signify to me that I’m doing something important and special. Also, with all the nerves I experience as a performer, there’s a lot to be said for being as comfortable as possible, and a big part of comfort is knowing I look decent when I’m going to be in the public eye. [Sidenote: outfit pictures from last night are forthcoming. Watch this space!]
The non-sartorial part of the physical presence, of course, can’t be underestimated. It’s difficult to define, but it’s about connecting with the audience on a physical level. Things like eye contact. Posture. Using the physical space you’re performing in, rather than staying locked in one spot. Believing in what you’re doing, and being confident in it—even in your mistakes.
What was missing from last night’s show was time alone before I went onstage. Northside Tavern does have a tiny green room for artists, but it’s literally tiny, so I couldn’t shut myself away for any amount of time before the show, and consequently was bombarded with people saying hello and asking if I was nervous. I was super-glad to see them all, but I needed some time to go over my presets and make sure my mind was in the right place before playing. When I was doing ballet and musical theatre, the dressing room used to get a lot quieter just a few minutes before curtain time; all our makeup was done and costumes were donned, but we were still preparing mentally. I miss that, and in the future, I need to figure out a way to get some of that pre-show quiet time back.
Darlings, have you ever spent any time onstage? What do you think makes up an awesome stage presence? What kinds of rituals did you have before going onstage? Any catastrophic/euphoric moments you’d like to share? Do it!
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4 comments
Jay Wood says:
Jan 17, 2010
I’m partially deaf in my left ear because I always used to stand stage right next to the bassman or the twin reverbs. Making sounds with friends…heh – those were the days.
Stage presence? I don’t remember. Probably “having fun” would be a good way to describe it.
Ashe Mischief says:
Jan 17, 2010
As someone who has spent time on stage (gee, bet you couldn’t guess that), I think these are some fantastic and amazing pointers.
Alex Bethune says:
Jan 18, 2010
You’ve really nailed a big part of what stage presence is. A lot of musicians aren’t aware of it but stage presence is a skill. It doesn’t just happen, it’s something that you NEED to work at and practise.
Knowing that you’ve put in the work for your gig is what gives you the confidence to connect with your audience.
Alex
Rachael says:
Jan 18, 2010
For two years in a row (and then a brief comeback 5 years later) I hosted an even dedicated to Japanese rock. I was the mistress/master of ceremonies and my energy level had to be HIGH HIGH HIGH ~ the first year capped at 800 attendees ~ that rocked so much. I think my energy level and refusal to have any ‘bad’ moments and only make light of any ‘oops’ made it smooth. Audience participation & engagement was also key. I’ve met a number of people who have attended or more of those events and after realizing the calm, rather pensive person they’d been talking to was the hyperactive, pink-haired, slightly lewd MC they had loved and possibly danced in an aisle with they get excited and I know I did a pretty good job. ^^ I love it.