Plans, performance, and perception
Last year, a milestone birthday was fast-approaching, and I dreamed of celebrating by doing something that excited me and would be fun for my guests. The thought of group travel crossed my mind and seemed to meet my criteria, but I was reluctant to ask my friends to spend a huge chunk of change on a trip. A nice, elegant dinner party seemed like a reliable option, but another meal, albeit delicious, didn’t quite seem to be special enough. As time went on, I admitted to myself: I wanted to perform, baby! ::shimmies in beaded fringe:: What better way to celebrate life than to put myself out there and live it out loud with the people dearest to me?!
I scoured New York City’s vast assortment of flexible restaurants, warehouses, bars, lounges, and piano bars looking for my venue unicorn: a conveniently-located, affordable space with an elevated stage, Goldilocks-perfect for just the right number of guests, that offered food and drinks and had a backline to support the technical needs of a band (what does a band even need?!). One seemingly perfect option after another slipped through my fingers and what started as an exciting use of Google Sheets felt like a losing battle.
My friend Randy had graciously approached his amazing band, Black Tie Brass, to see if they’d be interested in collaborating with his singer friend who was trying to throw a birthday-party-concert, and they had agreed! That, combined with the overwhelmingly supportive response I received from a few friends gave me the extra motivation (not to mention a healthy pinch of external accountability) I needed to push forward. The show must go on, little fig!
As the event began to feel real, I hit the ground running to get my voice in performance shape, anxiously procrastinated the design and distribution of the event invitation, all the while panicking that something, anything, would go wrong—I’ll spare you a list of my worrisome questions; if you name it, I “lost sleep” over it. But, at the same time, my friend Jenae had lovingly been pulling beautiful fashions and hair inspo for me, my mom was gently reassuring me that this was worth doing, and my brother reminded me that no one actually cares about most of the details as much as I do!
The night of, everything started out…swimmingly. The guests arrived, dressed gorgeously, with arms wide and smiles beaming. The band was all there, the food began to be served, the drinks were flowing at the bar. It was all happening! As planned, the band started the show playing a few of my favorite songs, Randy introduced me, I walked up to the stage. I opened my mouth to let out the first word to Chaka Khan’s “Ain’t Nobody” and from that moment on, I could hear only the band playing around me and my own corrupt thoughts:
No one is moving. Are they bored?
I can’t really hear myself. I feel like I’m singing out but I must need to sing louder! But… how?
Who chose this f*cking song? Me. Who else!?
I knew I’d forget all the lyrics!
Damn, I must sound really bad.
Thoughts like this clanged around in my head as I performed ten of the rangiest songs one can find in popular music. I stepped off stage and wanted to Alex Mack-melt into a puddle, abandoning my loved ones, sequinned dress and high heels, glide between the legs of the bouncer’s stool and out of the door unnoticed, and pour my invisible, glistening puddle of a self into a driverless cab with no destination. (There was undoubtedly a bottle of tequila in this cab with my name on it.)
But alas, the laws of physics prevailed; there was no escape from this reality, however there was a room of friends and family who had come out to the city on a Sunday night in December with love in their hearts—dressed gorgeously, with arms wide and smiles beaming. I leaned into that thought, and tried to soak every bit of that wonderful energy up that I could store in my cells.
Somewhere along the line during the performance, unbeknownst to me, the band had signaled to the sound engineer that my microphone was too low in the stage monitors. He made the adjustment, and from that moment, or so I’m told, I sounded more comfortable, looked more relaxed, moved & grooved better, and generally put on a better show. Dingo!
That big technical thing was definitely an important learning for me, but in the time that has passed since that night, I’ve allowed myself to also accept the less tangible lessons the experience has given me access to. Naturally, I’ve always trusted my brain for its capacity for reasoning and logic, but there are times to do the work to prepare, and then there is a time to let that all go, connect to what you’re doing, and sing for the people, damn it! It seems so obvious now, but I’m learning that critically-analyzing oneself and responding to an internal feedback loop while in performance is extremely unhelpful.
I look forward to performing again one day, when our lives outside are restored. How about a little cabaret?
Christine
x
Very special thanks
My family for their endless support!
Randolph and Black Tie Brass for saying “yes,” working with me, showing up and playing so beautifully!
Djeison, Rose, and Jenelle for their early encouragement
Fitgi, whose smiling face and enthusiasm beamed up at me from the front row the whole night
Shanel Smith and Rob for capturing the evening so gorgeously
Carlo and the team at Pianos NYC for taking such good care of us
