Notes from the Street

One thing performing out on the street teaches you in short order is that an audience knows what it wants. "But wait,"I hear someone say, "so many people, on the street or anywhere else, have never heard of the theremin! How can that statement be true?" First let's define the term "audience." When street-performing, most people are going somewhere – everythings a big hustle-bustle. My definition of the word "audience" is any individual or group of people who stop and observe the performer for 30 seconds, minimum, or any longer period of time. The performer learns to recognize what the audience intrinsically wants based upon how many people stop to watch and the length of time they choose to stay. The bigger the crowd and the longer it stays is a good measure of what appeals to them. The same applies in just about any situation. Ive seen wonderful musicians being totally ignored in the subways. Somehow they fail to capture the attention. All of these spectators standing and waiting, why would they choose to act as if nothing is happening? Precisely what it is that attracts an audience can be attributed to an intangible combination of the artists charisma, the choice of music being played (or the material being performed, whatever it may be), as well as the artists proficiency and showmanship. Ive been in other live venues – cafes, clubs and even concert halls, during which it was obvious that the thereminist had "lost" the audience. The attention flagged, drooped and people sat politely, but they were clearly distant and unresponsive. Theremin players in particular would probably do well to take such feedback to heart. But it requires that they learn to "read" their audiences while simultaneously performing, and then honestly take stock of what occurred. Ive had my share of rude awakenings of this sort both out on the street and in performance spaces. Outside, I can feel as if Im really doing well, playing a jazz piece right in the groove. A few people will stop momentarily; maybe one or two recognize the song and stay a bit. For the most part, however, people pass it by. Why? I was playing well, what happened? My personal opinion is that outdoors, it helps if people have a very familiar context within which to recognize and quickly identify with the music. The people who walk hurriedly by while Im playing Dvorak or George Gershwin are the same people who will stop in their tracks and listen to song after song when I play... a Beatles song. Its neither positive nor negative; its just true. Once I discovered this, I changed my repertoire. Far from pandering or "selling out," or a sad commentary on the tastes of the spectators, it is an object lesson in learning to give the audience a chance to connect with you. I assume that street performers are out there to be noticed by the crowd and entertain; if the case were otherwise, why perform for anyone at all? An artist, any artist standing out in public, whether painting, singing, dancing, juggling, playing an instrument. etc. is incontrovertibly saying "Look at me." If there's more, that is, if they're also saying "Loot at me and if you don't like it, F-you," that's their right. In my own case, since my background is in performing, what I seek is the strongest immediate connection possible. The same is true, irrespective of venue. On the other hand, in a concert hall, go ahead and choose the most esoteric repertoire you can if that appeals to you. People are trained to sit politely through it. On two occasions I observed theremin players lose their audiences (the yawns and fidgeting became so all pervasive that it was actually funny) and then struggle to bring them back. On another occasion, I watched as audience members sank actually their heads into their hands, and a few even blocked their ears as the featured thereminist played a very loud, free-form piece – it was very compelling at first and might have been well received if it had been three minutes long, but it went on for a twelve-minute eternity. The applause was limp and half-hearted. And when the thereminist launched into another very abstract, experimental piece, people just sank in their chairs resulting in a very "Oh no, here we go again" atmosphere. The performer just disregarded the vital, real-time feedback the audience was providing and went ahead. If you can be flexible and open to experimentation, it will amaze you how willing an audience can be to go on a journey with you. In testing out new spoken material to accompany the musical selections at Electro-Music festivals each summer, I found out valuable things. Some of my spoken material ran too long; I could sense that I'd hit the limit. Sometimes, I'd continue to see if I could get to the point I'd hoped to, other times I'd choose to abandon the speaking and get to another piece of music or subject. I was aware if and when the audience attention began to drift and did what I could to bring them back quickly. All in all the performances went well, but I always came away knowing more about how to make the material work better. The music selections I play are usually a mixed bag. They range from classical to jazz to pop and I'm comfortable with the mix. I'm able to play lesser known pieces that I believe have great merit, and I'm always able to rally the audiences around the music by positioning something they know after a more experimental or unfamiliar piece. This is what I've found works best for me. Everyone is different, so, what works for someone else may also be very different. Performers generally have to find their own way and develop their own unique relationship with audiences. The expression "know your audience" is so old I've been unable to find to whom it was first attributed. If you are a serious performer, it's a good three words to remember and the great thing is that audiences inherently want to like you regardless of what type of music you play. They're rooting for you to be good, although, they will be the final arbiters as to what "good" means to them. Each time you perform, you have the opportunity to develop your ability to read the spectators right there in the moment and determine how to genuinely connect them with your artistic effort.