(Spoken from own gig experiences)
It’s loud and fast, and exciting and energizing. The rhythm rips right through you, as if you were just a figure made of paper and glue. It is absolutely the purest source of energy I have ever felt in my life. I am speaking of course, about rock and roll, or to be more specific, playing an epic rock show in front of an enthusiastic audience. To captivate a group of people, whether they number in the dozens, hundreds or thousands, is a very powerful feeling. I am and always will be deeply grateful to whatever other worldly power blessed us all with rhythm and melody. I’ll always remember the first time I got up on a stage at the head of a band and let the energy fly through me all at once. Joy, rage, and peace, all moving in me, towards one common point, music. Yes, I love the art, the writing, the toil of not knowing if I’ll actually ever make it big. I love it all, but if I had to choose just one thing, it would be the stage. It is the only place where my expression can be both verbal and physical, and it influences everything I do. Even now as I sit here inside a Panera Bread in nothings-ville USA, writing this article, I find myself wanting for just one thing, the next show. My life is one giant search for that hit of dopamine, that feeling of touching Olympus. I am, at the end of the day, just another addict wandering around trying to collect enough resources to support my life’s vice. The only difference between me and some shirtless guy on the street is the intense value our society puts on all forms of artwork. Now I know, I just romanticized the crap out of my life, but let’s face it, a young desperate musician is a romantic idea. The fear and ugliness only comes in when you begin to consider the possibility that someday you may make that unthinkable transition from the young desperate artist, to the old, tired, unloved, dying man who just happens to play out 3 nights a week, and has a discography of over 100 songs, which he somehow manages to bring up in every conversation he’s had for the past 11 years. In all likelihood, you probably know the man I just described, his name is probably Greg, and his apartment probably smells like beef jerky and beer. You only know it probably smells that way, because you probably went there last week when he probably offered to fix your guitar for free after a show… probably. Aside from the adrenaline, sweat and screaming women, the best part of any live performance is by far the camaraderie. You feel like a team, a real team. You go through it all together, all the highs and the lows, every amazing show is a triumph, and every missed note a defeat. Anything your comrades experience up there, you feel it, as if it were happening to you. The energy flying around backstage right before the show starts is unbelievable, everyone trying to energize each other, practicing that one song no one really knows ,but you somehow pull off, and trying to harness that feeling you have of invincibility, like you could fight off the entire Hun army, just you and your band. There is nothing quite like it, nothing at all. My goal in saying all of this is not to push you towards or away from any aspirations you may have of joining the legion of sloppy, pompous idiots who sling themselves from town to town, trying to stir up as much attention as possible. My goal is simply to express to you how high one can be flying, and then all of a sudden, be unceremoniously shot out of the sky. That’s just how it is when you find yourself in this world, and it is after all just another piece of industry for the public to sink its teeth into. I know...I know, that's an awfully dramatic way to be talking about singing and dancing, but hey, I’m a dramatic guy. I’d like to try and end this with something positive, because after I love music, I love writing it, I love recording it, and I love playing great shows. Whether it’s in some dive bar tucked away in a dirty corner of Somerville, or the big bright stage of the Band Shell at Hampton Beach, I love all of it, and I wouldn’t give it up for anything. Most importantly, I believe that through hard work, positivity, and a refusal to quit, all things are possible, even things that are truly and genuinely insane.
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