This is an excerpt from my book, ‘The Useful Musician’, available from Amazon in both Kindle and paperback formats.

WHY IT MAKES YOU MORE USEFUL:

Consistent playing on the same song over and over makes you reliable.

WHAT TO DO:

Be aware that repeated performances of the same song will dull your senses and make you forget things, lose your place, or just plain play dispassionately. Remember that the audience is probably hearing the song for the first time—you owe it to them to play it well. If you’ve identified someplace in the song you tend to slip up on, mark that spot on the music. If you’re getting sleepy between performances, drink coffee, go for a walk outside, do some pushups, eat something spicy—find something that will give you renewed energy. You have to discipline yourself to play with passion and energy every single time you go up onstage, no matter how sick of it your are. You’re a performer.

THOUGHTS:

At The Big Church we used to call this ‘Second Service Syndrome’. We’d rehearse on Wednesday, run through everything on Sunday morning, and the first service would go great. Second service, we’d relax, we’d think, “Hey, we got this!”, and then flub something out of overconfidence. Third service, we’d start forgetting things wholesale because we were tired. I almost always said something on the way out to repeat a service, reminding everyone to be on their toes. In fact, I’d keep an eye on people during the performances, watching for a lapse of attention, giving people visual cues for important parts.

I lost concentration once at a Christmas concert, and even though it was only one performance, it came after a long, grueling day of rehearsing.

It was the big Christmas program, and the People Who Decide These Things had scheduled an entire evening of music, probably twenty songs, interspersed with readings. I thought it was way, way too much. The music for these choral-type songs came from those choir books with piano and four-part vocals all on one page, so you got maybe four measures per page, and sometimes only two. These arrangements would run ten, fifteen, even twenty pages. I was working part time at that point, so I literally didn’t have time to rewrite all the songs into handy words-and-chords charts. I just photocopied everything. A million pages. I taped each song into roughly five page chunks, and when I was done with each chunk, I’d pull it off the piano and throw it on the floor. Twenty songs times three or four long, taped-together chunks—it was a stack about an inch and a half thick. And every time we’d rehearse, I’d have to pick them up off the floor and reorder them. It was making me cranky.

About half way through the performance, a trio of elementary-aged kids got up on stools and did a reading. They’d read, we’d play a song, they’d read some more—it required paying close attention so I could bring the band in and out. My mind wandered.

There was an offering song (instrumental, just the band) and then back to the kids. And then…there was dead air. Nobody was reading, nobody was taking. I thought, “Okay, here we go. One of those kids forgot their part, can’t find their place, and now we have an embarrassing silence onstage. THIS is what happens when you over-program a service. Now one of those kids is going to go home crying, and have a bad Christmas memory the rest of his or her life.”

I was really getting steamed, thinking about what I was going to say at the next staff meeting, picturing one of the kids twenty years later, sobbing out their tale of Christmas woe on a psychiatrist’s couch, when one of the singers turned toward me a little and said, “Let’s all sing that old Christmas favorite, O Come All Ye Faithful”. I thought, “Well, don’t look at ME, sister.” But then a thought—like a dinosaur being bitten on the tail and the nerve impulse taking three minutes to travel to its brain—crept in. Hadn’t we just played ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’? We had. We’d done it for the offertory! And then in a rush I realized what had happened. In an effort to save time, I’d used that song as the offering song, saving myself the time and effort of coming up with yet another song to rehearse. I’d even congratulated myself on being clever. We’d play it as an offering song, then there’d be a reading, then we’d sing the song. Clever, I thought. Except…as we played it during the offering, I threw the music on the floor. And now I needed that music.

There I sat, everyone waiting for me to start the song, and the music was in a pile of papers on the floor next to the piano bench. I had no choice but to lean over, search through the pile, find the multi-page, taped-together sheets, and replace them on the music rack in reverse order. It was a humiliating one-man show, made worse by the knowledge that I’d just spent 30 seconds thinking bad thoughts about everyone connected with this. The whole time, it was me.

So, you know, don’t lose your concentration onstage or you’ll be the one lying on a psychiatrists’ couch.

(This is an excerpt from my book, ‘The Useful Musician‘, available on Amazon in both Kindle and paperback formats)

WHY IT MAKES YOU MORE USEFUL:

You create good will. You get asked back.

WHAT TO DO:

Watch and listen. Keep an eye out for a player or singer who’s struggling, and see what you can do to help them. Do it quietly if you can, without anyone seeing. Remember that a musicians’ identity is often wrapped up in their ability to play or sing—instead of knocking that down to make yourself look better, see if you can improve it.

THOUGHTS:

I was a young player in a recording studio session and struggling for something useful to play on a particular track. Rick (I’ve mentioned him elsewhere) came over and said, “Hey Ed— play this”. And then he showed me the coolest, funkiest little figure to play that involved little ghost notes with my left hand. It wasn’t hard, and I picked it up right away. This was during a break in the action, so nobody really saw. When we picked it up again and started recording, I played what he’d shown me. It sounded cool.

Standing a few minutes later in the mixing booth, listening to the playback, one of the singers said, “Did you hear what Eddie played there? Ed, you’ve been holding back on us!” I started to say something but Rick jumped in and said, “Ed’s got the moves, man.” He didn’t even take credit for it. I was very loyal to Rick for that, and for other things like it.

And now here’s how NOT to do this…

There was a young woman, a college student, who sang with us sometimes at The Big Church. She was a good singer, but suffered from horrible stage fright. We sat backstage one week, waiting for the sermon to end so we could go out and do our last song—on which she was singing lead. I was sitting next to her and stage fright was all over her. As God is my witness, I tried to help her get over it.

In an effort to lighten her up, in an effort to help her see that all this was just not worth all the worry, I said, “Hey Sarah—that song you’re going to sing in a minute? It’s SO IMPORTANT. I mean, we rent this building, we invite the public, we plan these services, we rehearse, and then the pastor preaches, and then, at the end, the WHOLE THING is brought home by the song we’re playing. EVERYTHING in this service hinges on it being perfect. I mean, people might actually leave and never find God if you mess up even one little note.”

I thought surely she’d laugh and see that the exact opposite of what I was saying was true, that our little part in the service was just that—one little part.

Sarah didn’t take it that way. She almost threw up. When I saw what was happening I tried to explain myself, but it was time to go out onstage. She did okay, but I was read the riot act by several people. I wrote her a letter, explaining and apologizing, but I’m pretty sure that was the last time she ever sang with us. Several years later I ran into her, married, kids running around her, and I went up to her and apologized one more time. I was hoping she didn’t slap me. Instead…ready for this?…she didn’t remember it.

This is an excerpt from my book, ‘The Useful Musician’, available on Amazon.

WHY IT MAKES YOU MORE USEFUL:

It makes you a craftsman instead of waiting around for the music gods to inspire you.

WHAT TO DO:

Learn how music works. Don’t be content to let it be a mystery. That’s just lazy. There IS mystery in music, but YOU are nowhere NEAR that point. Knowing how the music goes together, seeing the whole picture, understanding all the parts, speaking the language—THIS is where you live. THIS is what makes you a great ensemble player. Playing whatever you feel like playing right in the moment makes you, well, pretty useless. (Unless you’re monstrously talented. In which case, call me–I’m pretty useful.)

THOUGHTS:

It’s a rookie move to say, “I don’t like to know what I’m doing. I just like to feel the music and play whatever comes out my hands.” I’ve known musicians like that all my life, and they can only do one thing—play it their own way. They can’t go along. In fact, I know a lot of musicians who are like this.

“I don’t know anything about theory and all that. It just confuses me. I just play what comes out.”

As you might guess, I can see that all over their playing. They can only play solos over chords that stay in the key, only play chords in the ‘regular’ positions, only play something one way—the way the feeeeel it. They limit themselves because they like it all spooky and stuff.

Look, there IS mystery here, but it works at a deeper level. Coming up with something that moves people, something that pulls on people’s souls—there’s definitely mystery there. That’s a deeper element of artistry, but don’t miss this:

Knowing what you’re doing doesn’t stop you from engaging the mystery of music.

You just have to make sure you’re not confusing the two.

There are some famous musicians who fall into the know-nothing category , but are so supremely talented that they can afford to force everyone around them to do it their way. If that’s you, what are you doing with this book in your hands?

(This is an entry from my book, ‘The Useful Musician’, available on Amazon in both Kindle and paperback editions)

WHY IT MAKES YOU MORE USEFUL:

You create a higher probability the song will come off well.

WHAT TO DO: Listen to the song in your head and imagine what it will sound like given the players you’ll be working with. A really busy acoustic strumming part might be just the thing to bring, but only if the rest of the band can support it and leave room for it. If you know the players, you might already know how it will go, and if you don’t know them, you really don’t know the answer at all. You need options.

There might be a really great bass part that you’ve either copied from the recording, or that you thought up yourself, but if the drummer can’t lock in with it, you’re wasting your time and inviting frustration. Bring the cool thing you can do, but have a couple of other approaches in your back pocket.

Examples:

Drums: Bring that funky beat with the little anticipated accents, but have a solid, good-feeling 2 & 4 beat you know will work as well.

Bass: A bass line that weaves and moves through the song, covering not only root tones but utilizing thirds and fifths as well—that might be great, but be ready with a simpler approach using more root tones and less movement.

Acoustic Guitar: Bring a capo chart (I talk about this elsewhere) so you can pull out various licks and tricks you know in various keys. Work something out that plays farther up the neck as well. It might be cool for one verse or one chorus. You could even snap a capo on quick for one verse and play something interesting, pulling it off again for the rest of the song.

Electric Guitar: Keep that chugging palm-muted part ready, but find a place on the neck you can play longer tones in case that doesn’t fit.

Keys: Be ready to play in the middle of the piano (a full, strong sound), but bring little arpeggios you can play an octave higher in case the guitars fill up the middle and leave you no room.

Everybody: Definitely steal cool ideas from the recording. Just don’t marry them.

THOUGHTS:

The song you’re attempting with a group of people will likely go together only one or two ways. Most players are just not terribly versatile, so they’re probably going to play what they’re going to play. They’ll have something they do that’s strong, but when they do that, it might change the way the rest of the band has to play.

At The Big Church, I had a drummer with really, really good hands, but he could only play whatever just…came out of his hands. He couldn’t stick to a kick drum pattern, or any pattern for that matter. He never played anything quite the same way twice. But what he could play was usually pretty good. So at Wednesday night rehearsals I would have a couple of things in mind, and then I’d say, “Let’s just play this song through one time to get used to it.” (I didn’t always do that, but with this guy, I needed to) While we were playing, I’d listen to his drum part. Usually what he played the first time was basically what I was gonna get. After that first run through I’d start pointing the other instruments in a direction that worked with the drums.

Had everybody played what was on the recording, that might not have worked with the drum part he brought to the song. I’m not sure anyone was aware I was doing this, but doing it always made the songs work better. In this case I was bringing the options for the other players, but the effect was the same.

(This is an excerpt from my book, “The Useful Musician” available on Amazon)

WHY IT MAKES YOU MORE USEFUL:

Doing this in rehearsal and onstage helps bring the feel, or the groove of the song alive.It makes the song jump.

WHAT TO DO:

Get the basic groove of the song into your bones—what the drums are playing, the bass, the whole overall feel, and then project that entire feel into the part you’re playing on your instrument. Whatever the big, important things are in the song, project them with your instrument. Work on this alone until you can telegraph the whole feel of the song with just your instrument.

You should be able to get the basic feel of the whole thing into someone’s ears all by yourself. Start with this: listen to the drums and see if you can imitate the beat you hear. Concentrate on emphasizing the 2 & 4 beats, trying to jump in on the feeling of them

THOUGHTS:

Here’s a metaphor, and maybe it will help:

Think of pieces of glass lying on the ground on a sunny day. Back up from those pieces scattered all around, and you see a single image of the sun reflected in all the pieces. Get down close and you see the entire sun reflected in each piece. You are one of those pieces. Great musicians are always good at this.

If you want a wonderful example of this, check out ‘Dion – The Wanderer At Lunch’ on YouTube. All they’re doing is singing, but you can feel the whole thing right there in his voice and his hands. That’s what I’m talkin’ about!

Here’s another one—‘Van Halen doing their huge hit ‘Panama’ on just acoustic instruments. Find it on YouTube and listen. Do you hear how they manage to telegraph the whole thing, the excitement, all of it, without any of the big equipment?

In the end, you might not change the actual part you play very much to do this, but you’ll project so much more feeling into the song. Remember—the part you play is part of the greater whole, and it all has to fit together. The audience isn’t hearing all the parts, they’re hearing the song coming at them as one instrument. Do your best to be a part of that instrument. ◆◆◆

WHY IT MAKES YOU MORE USEFUL:

You make the audience more comfortable, your bandmates more relaxed, and the room more inviting when you’re at ease in front of people. Also, you’ll play better.

WHAT TO DO:

This is really about being afraid people won’t like you. Here’s the truth: nearly everyone watching you on a stage wants to have a good time, and they’re not looking at you critically. They WANT you to do well. They’re sitting in their seat hoping it will be good. Remember— they can’t do what you do. Even if you’re not a terribly good musician, they’re not musicians at all.

So remind yourself every time you walk out on a stage—this is a cool, fun, frankly wonderful place to be. Look what you’re doing!

When you make mistakes, keep moving. Those mistakes don’t really matter much, and laughing at yourself onstage makes you human. Yeah, try to do your best, but remind yourself that those people out there are just like you, and they’d never DARE to get up in front.

Look—you bought an instrument, spent a LONG time learning how to play it, accepted an invitation to play, rehearsed, then you walk out onstage—but you don’t want people to look at you? It’s, like, way too late for that.

THOUGHTS:

I learned this from a guy named Dave who played at the Holiday inn. He made a big mistake, had to start over, made a joke, and kept going. I was horrified for him, but I looked around and everyone was laughing. His mistake endeared him to the audience. It made him human.

There’s a local musician named Randy who I really respect. He’s played onstage all his life, and now he does a solo act. Before he even gets up to play he’s said hello and joked with nearly everyone in the room. He’s your best friend. Yeah, he has a gift for this, but even if you don’t, you could get better at it.

Have you ever had the experience of going to a concert, but not being really interested in the act? You go to see them anyway, and once you’ve heard them play, listened to their stories from the stage, you see them as human and you end up buying their CD on the way out. They’re your new best friends! That’s what’s going on here—the audience wants you to be their friend, and they want to like your music.

So embrace being up front in public.

(This is an excerpt from my book, “The Useful Musician” available on Amazon)

WHY IT MAKES YOU MORE USEFUL:

This greatly expands the list of things you can do to add dynamics.

WHAT TO DO:

Think of dynamics NOT as just loud and soft, but as adding and subtracting energy. This is a big switch in thinking, most likely, but it’s an important, valuable one. A big chorus needs more energy, not just more volume. A soft verse needs less energy, not just less volume. Thinking this way expands your toolbox:

Long tones drain energy/Short tones add energy

Fewer notes drain energy/More notes add energy

Playing softer drains energy/Playing louder adds energy

Coming into a big chorus, start clipping the notes short as you strum the guitar, or strum faster. Coming out of the chorus, into the verse, hit one long chord and let it ring through the last two measures of the chorus.

THOUGHTS:

If you’re leading a band, or everyone is looking to you for cues, you can telegraph a LOT of useful information just by the way you play. Even musicians with wandering minds, buried in their instrument, head down—even these musicians will hear that the energy is draining out of a section.

When everyone onstage does this, the effect is powerful.

This is an excerpt from my book, “The Useful Musician”. Available on Amazon

WHY IT MAKES YOU MORE USEFUL:

A clear music sheet eliminates wondering where you are in the song, and it reminds you of important things.

WHAT TO DO:

Circle all the signs, to start with. The D.S. signs, Coda signs, etc. Get a pencil and circle them. Darken anything you think you might miss. Draw big lines—anything that will catch your eye and remind you where you’re going. Also, make some kind of note that alerts you to tricky parts or things you really, really need to remember. It’s not amateurish to do this. It’s just the opposite. A professional does whatever is necessary to play the part right. Ask permission to photocopy the music, then toss it when you’re done.

THOUGHTS:

In high school I played trombone in the pit band for our school’s presentation of The Sound Of Music. In one spot on my music someone had drawn a little pair of eyeglasses with eyeballs looking down. I raised my hand and asked Mr. Bartman what those were for. He said, “We rented this music. This is the actual music you’d play if you were on Broadway. Someone used that same music in their own production, and they were setting an alert to themselves about something in that measure. It’s part of the rental agreement—you’re allowed to draw on the music in pencil if you erase it before you send it back. They obviously forgot to erase it.”

I was floored. I thought the big time musicians just remembered everything.

On my own music I often make the repeat signs huge with a pencil. They stick out way above and below the staff. If it says ‘repeat to bar 16’ in tiny little letters, I write, in big letters, ‘BACK TO BAR 16’. No one but you sees this stuff, but everyone hears you blow it. Don’t blow it. Write on your music.

My friend Steve told me his high school choir director always said, “I need two things from you: talent, and a pencil. If I can only get one of those, I’ll take the pencil.”

See #71—LAY YOUR CHARTS OUT LOGICALLY

This is an excerpt from my book, “The Useful Musician”. Available on Amazon

WHY IT MAKES YOU MORE USEFUL:

You leave the pressure of perfectionism behind and focus on a real world goal, one that’s pretty easy to measure.

WHAT TO DO:

Aim at pleasing the people that it’s important to please. (Hint: it’s not you.)

When the audience is moved, when the people you play with onstage like what’s happening, then you’ve succeeded. Period. These things truly represent success, because this is what gets you asked to play again. This is what makes you useful.

Playing really fast, playing really loud, playing obscure songs nobody’s ever heard of, playing only songs you like, being the coolest person onstage, playing your part with no mistakes —all these things revolve around making YOU happy at the expense of everybody else. NOBODY likes players/singers like that. Nobody.

THOUGHTS:

I learned this late in life, and I wished I’d seen it earlier. Playing only to please yourself is a lonely road, full of frustration. I did a fair amount of it, even early on with my cover band (which I started in my 50’s). I wanted to do the songs I really liked, but to my frustration, the audience didn’t care what I liked. They cared what THEY liked. They dressed up, they left the house, they paid for food and drinks, and then expected something that pleased them. Such a simple thing, and so hard for me to embrace.

One night we played a medley I’d been DYING to play—Paul Revere & The Raiders ‘Kicks’ paired up with their song ‘Hungry’. Oh man, it was so much fun in rehearsal. But onstage…crickets—people using the bathroom, going outside for a smoke, not dancing. I was so disappointed. We tried it once or twice more, but the medley was a clunker. We played it GREAT—no doubt about that, but nobody cared. If our goal was to play something only weliked, we succeeded. But if we were there to please an audience, well, we failed with those two songs. I reluctantly cut them from the set lists.

Listen—if the audience likes it, you’ve succeeded. Period. That’s it—that’s the definition of success. Yeah, you can beat yourself up a little because you missed things during a couple of songs, but honestly, I’ve watched as we butchered songs onstage and had people shoving each other out of the way to dance.

Too many musicians walk off the stage thinking, “I didn’t play well. I need to practice more.” Instead, they should be asking themselves if the audience liked what they played or didn’t like what they played. If the audience loved it, figure out why and figure out how to do more of that.

This is an excerpt from my book, “The Useful Musician”. Available on Amazon

WHY IT MAKES YOU MORE USEFUL:

The parts you play will start fitting in better. Also, you’ll be easier to work with.

WHAT TO DO:

Dole out your clever stuff very, very sparingly. You’re not the smartest person in the band, you’re not the cleverest, and nobody cares about all the cool licks. Sorry to ruin your fun, but play what fits. Play what the song needs, what makes the song better. If you can do that AND be clever, well, take the occasional shot. Congregations don’t care about clever, dancers don’t care about clever—they just want something that moves them.

THOUGHTS:

I have played some really clever stuff onstage at clubs or churches, and watched as nobody noticed. My dance band would work hard at something really great, really hard to play, and then watch everyone head to the restroom, talk amongst themselves, order more drinks, etc.

Working hard to be clever will make you hard to work with, because the core of it is your own enjoyment, and not that of the listeners.

Jazz is different. There, you can clever it up to your heart’s content. You’ll also be playing to about 15 people and getting paid enough money to cover gas and pizza. In other words, it might be cool, but it’s not useful.