Today was my fourth live engagement post lockdown. And yes, I’m still counting - I’m not sure when that will stop!
More significantly, it was my second live engagement with ‘audience’, or in this case: congregation. I’ve been lucky to have been booked for two church services in this last week by friends. A chance to flex those live performance muscles again, and attempt to remember the order of a Church of England Evensong…
The first service came with much anticipation. Finally a chance to get back to the job I have trained so many years to do. Finally a chance to communicate beyond the four walls of my practice room. Finally… a chance to reacquaint myself with performance anxiety.
During my late teens, I had crippling performance anxiety - I would alternate between shaking like a leaf and sweating profusely; I would frequently be sick; and the combination of these things would usually leave me feeling ill for days after a performance. Recently there was a Classic FM tweet asking people to share their most embarrassing performance stories. Most people shared hilarious wardrobe malfunctions or wrong words, but mine would all have been from this period in my life.
Time passed. I conquered my nerves. Or rather, I trained myself to do things differently.
I developed a system whereby two or three days before a performance - sometimes a week if I was less busy - I would let myself get nervous. I would be ratty, I would feel ill, I would sing badly. And then it would pass. By the time of the performance day, apart from the occasional loose bowel movement (ref. my infamous blog of 2015), I had achieved nirvana.
It became a cycle: Monday and Tuesday I felt nervous, Wednesday and Thursday I focussed on preparing, Friday and Saturday I performed - ready to repeat the whole rigmarole again on Monday.
And then along came lockdown.
Turns out nothing can knock this system out of kilter like having no performances or auditions in the diary. And whatever we’ve all been saying, video performances recorded at home just aren’t quite the same. As anticipation grew for that first service, I was rather pleased and more than a little surprised not to be confronted by my old friends: my nerves. Two days before, a day before, an hour before - still no sign of them. As I stood up to sing the first hymn - BAM - they were back. Not quite the vomiting, sweaty friends of my heyday, but nevertheless an unwelcome friend there to make their presence felt.
So, at the end of this very long post we get to today. My second live performance with ‘audience’ post lockdown. Again, no nerves in the days or hours before. Once again, they were waiting in the wings, ready to pounce on that first breath. But this time, I was ready for them. I had a plan.
I breathed for my first entry. They were there. I grappled with them for a minute or two. Then I remembered that was pointless. Sometimes, your annoying friend does come to the party - and rather than passive aggressively trying to get them to leave, it is much better to give them a job to do. So I opened my arms. I welcomed them in. I invited them to be my duet partner. And finally - I had the thrilling live performance experience that I have been craving since March 15.
I’m not sure what my relationship with my nerves will be going forward. As long as performing remains an infrequent activity, I think there is no escaping them. But I’m not sure I want to. It may have taken me ten years to work it out, but it turns out nervous energy can be good energy. It’s just about knowing how to use it.