“Why doesn’t the stage melt?” (punter at a Nizlopi gig)

Road Warrior

During those many long years on the road as a manager and (not to get above myself) travelling dogs-body, I had a lot of time to witness and ponder the nature, the impact, and the power of the art of performance. This is what I learned.

Between Two Worlds

There is an infinitesimally small moment, just before the artist sings that first note or strikes that first chord. A moment so seemingly inconsequential that you miss it if you blink. It’s a fleeting moment of infinite possibilities, a window into a liminal space between two worlds. It’s a moment I know from my martial arts practice. It’s a moment I know has great power if the musician or artist accepts the challenge of stepping into that Warrior-space. That musician-space. Blending the two! It’s a moment before what they have learned, or what they have practised, emerges from them into the space between artist and audience. It’s a moment that can define the whole gig or indeed their whole career. It’s a moment that tells you all you need to know about them. It tells you where their music is coming from.

Warrior-space

For any of you who were lucky enough to attend a Nizlopi gig back in the day, you might have witnessed something very special. In writing about this disparate trinity of Musicianship, Warriorship and the art of performance, I find it impossible not to use Luke and John as a living example of what happens when you authentically embody each of them – such was the fierce Warriorship of their music. When you combine the three elements of Musicianship, Warriorship and performance with purpose and intention something remarkable happens.

Lethal presence

 Perhaps I should clarify the language for a moment, Warriorship here does not mean the act of going to war or acts of aggression. The Shambala tradition describes it in the context of “human bravery, or the tradition of fearlessness”. And here it also means the act of being totally present to the music and the moment.

The swordsman enters the dojo and bows, sanctifying the space,

and in return the space sanctifies us.

Musician-space

I recognise something of the purist in me as I approach this topic, one I have discussed for many years and now in the writing of it, I find it hard to grasp the essence of what it is – on paper at least. I know what it is when I see it. I know what it is when I hear it. There are many types of performance out there but there are only a few that I personally find meaningful or satisfying. There are only a few that contribute to the human spirit and make a real difference in the world and make it a better place to live. (See what I mean about “Purist”?) Some will say my approach is born from arrogance or that it is elitist and simply an unreal expectation to reach for such heights. Perhaps they are right, and it wouldn’t be the first time we were accused of being “arrogant”. (It’s extraordinary how often humility can  be interpreted as arrogance). I would say, however, I know what I like and further than that, I recognise the importance of even one authentic performance and its power to change the world (perhaps I should change “Purist” to “megalomaniac”?)

So How Do I Do It  …and why would I want to?

•  Learn the art of being present
•  Know why you are doing it
•  Show up – totally
•  Ask yourself, where the music comes from – then connect to that
•  The path to fame is seldom the path to authentic performance
•  Going beyond in a performance is why people show up at gigs
•  A great performance points the way to something magically human
•  The true musician knows this and will accept no limitations
•  Don’t confuse smoke machines and spotlights for performance
•  Be willing to get it wrong
•  An authentic performance elevates both performer and audience
•  Remember, “very good is the enemy of great” (topic & title of next blog)

Mission Impossible

Are these words mere posturing or an idealisation of what performance might be? Do I hold unrealistic or idealistic expectations of performers? Am I asking too much? Maybe, but in my experience, the best performers do everything I listed above and far, far more. If you are going to take to the performance space, then claim your warriorship and step up fully. No half measures, no phoning it in. I’m not saying this is easy, on the contrary, its really hard to do consistently. The artist has an opportunity to shine a light into the world and through the creative act to make the world a better and more inspired place.

Getting There – Don’t Mind or No Mind

There are many ways to connect to that inner source where “the song and the sword are one”. It’s the place from where all great performances flow and the place the artist needs to go if there is to be meaning in their work. Having studied the Japanese art of Iaido for many years (the art of drawing the sword) I have encountered many esoteric methods and psychological concepts that aid accessing those deeper places. Let me leave you with a scene from one of my favourite movies (The Last Samurai) where Tom Cruise is seeking some ‘enlightenment’ on how to overcome a seemingly invincible foe and a way to go beyond.

Following yet another beating, Tom sits disconsolately on the floor contemplating yet another hammering and how to overcome his bigger, stronger and more experienced opponent. At this point a young Samurai approaches, bows, then kneels  beside him and says;

“Please forgive – Too many mind.”

Still seated and somewhat puzzled, Tom asks, “Too many mind?”

“Hai. 

Mind of soldier.

 Mind of people watching.

 Mind of enemy. 

Too many mind.

No mind!”

“Go out on a limb – that’s where all the  blossom is.” Alastair McIntosh