Preparation for Performance

The Chocolate Church Community Choir

Or how I learned to stop worrying and love the jam

Approximately one year ago, I learned how to jam. I’ve always enjoyed the idea of improvisation - being so good at what you do that you can just hop onstage with zero preparation and figure it out, but the reality is that I am, by nature, ill suited for such a scenario. Inherent tendencies to micromanage aside, my background set me up for perfectionism and rigidity. Growing up, I studied classical piano and voice and was a faithful devotee to the written score. In higher education this devotion evolved into meticulous preparatory routines - performances perfected over months of careful practice and elaborate day-of-performance rituals to “ensure success”. Choral concerts, opera performances, and solo recitals all required hours of preparation, memorization, and repetition. While this allowed me to faithfully replicate complicated scores in foreign languages, it contributed to a noticeable level of musical neuroticism in myself and in my peers. It also led to certain expectations regarding the environment of a performance. Playing without a score (unless intentionally memorized well ahead of time)? Foolish! Jumping into a performance without hours of rehearsal? Unheard of! Changing the setlist during a performance? Don’t make me laugh! 

Thankfully, the universe provides endless opportunities for growth. I began freeing myself from the confines of sheet music when I was invited to join Crystal Vision, the Fleetwood Mac tribute band I have been a member of since 2023. Armed with chord charts and my ears, I’ve become adept at figuring out keyboard and vocal arrangements that are close enough to the original to pass the straight face test. Our group is, however, still pretty attached to preparation. As a tribute band, our job is to replicate as closely as possible the spirit and musicianship of a real band (Their music is everywhere! People will know and care if we don’t do it right!). This still requires hours of practice and preparation, with high standards within the group for what we consider “stage ready”. And we put on a pretty solid show because of it. But I needed to let go more. 

The antidote: join a band that plays original music, lives across multiple states, doesn’t really have time to practice, but consists of top-notch musicians. We are playing songs we all wrote, many of which aren’t recorded and so therefore don’t exist outside of our heads and our iphone notes apps. We are rehearsing maybe a couple of times a year, but more often we are sending a list of chords and a cellphone recording of the song to catch the vibe, and then hoping for the best on the day of the show. We discuss setlists ahead of time, but more often they’re solidified last minute and then changed onstage to reflect the emotional flow of the moment. A lot of what we do is improvised or decided spontaneously, i.e. jammed. The resulting magic is perhaps the most terrifying and exhilarating thing I’ve ever been a part of. And it's teaching me to let go of perfection and allow greatness to happen: epic moments of spontaneous harmony, unexpected riffs, and the delight of on-the-spot co-creation. I am learning that musicianship isn’t something that I get from a page. It’s not in the strictures of a long-dead composer, but rather something living and breathing and evolving in the moment. 

Learning to let go and love the jam felt like what I imagine learning to surf is like: you fight the waves and fall flat on your face over and over until you finally move with the water and it carries you faster and farther than you could imagine. I was frustrated, insecure, even angry (I am still all of those things at times!) But recently, I played a song live where the guitar player only whispered the chords to me before starting the song. I backed up a well known band on stage, performing an entire set of songs I’ve never heard in my life. I’ve written songs days before gigs and trusted my band to bring them to life. I’ve learned that I can jam, and it gets better with practice, and most importantly I’ve learned that I can carry that lesson to the rest of my life. We can’t plan for every eventuality, and we don’t usually have the luxury of planning something out exactly. If we hold on too tight and are unable to adapt, we will miss out on so many opportunities. 

“Opportunity is not a lengthy visitor” - Stephen Sondheim, Into the Woods

Many of my students were in varying stages of preparation going into the studio recital on Sunday. Some had prepared a lot, and some had, for whatever reason, been unable too. Some felt very ready and some felt terrified. I am so glad they did it anyway. Sure, there were memory slips and mistakes, and maybe some of them wished they’d had an extra month to practice, but their willingness to put themselves out there and roll with whatever happened is the spirit of the jam. And that spirit, that willingness to give it a try, was very clear to the audience. Every single person that I talked to afterwards had something positive to say about the talent, poise, and enthusiasm of the performers. To each of my students, I say, a) bravo and b) do it more. Put yourself out there more, take more risks, perform feeling less ready. Learn to ride the wave of uncertainty. That’s not to say you shouldn’t hone your craft. A solid foundation of technical skill and musical knowledge is certainly an important step in being ready for the jam. But, there is also truth in the fact that the only way to be ready is to just do it. I’m also not saying that you shouldn’t prepare! What I am saying is this: don’t let circumstances that might increase your ease become prerequisites to action. 

What do you think? How much preparation is necessary for a performance? Is it possible to create greatness spontaneously? Is it better to make mistakes onstage or let fear of making mistakes prevent you from the attempt? Shoot me an email, or leave a comment; I’d love to hear from you. 

Warmly, 

Dr. Jane