Stage Fright: Watch Me Wreck the Mic

By DaNeo Duran

Ladies and gentlemen stage fright or performance nerves of any kind can ruin an otherwise well rehearsed performance. This problem might affect you and is common enough to suggest that it'll affect someone you know. Here DaNeo Duran returns to the musical stage. But quickly discovers with shock that away from a band, nervousness en-wraps him during solo appearances robbing his performance potential. Disappointed but determined DaNeo Duran chose to transcend his nervous blight. By studying what makes us nervous and by hitting the problem head on he beat stage fright within one month. Here you can read just how he came to both beat and accept stage fright. Reading this book will fill you with hope as DaNeo Duran's month turned out to be one of his most enjoyable months ever. And should you be affected by stage fright you too will surely beat and accept them too.

• Language: English
• Publisher: DaNeo Duran
• Release date: Nov 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310975523

DaNeo Duran

DaNeo Duran is a novelist, Leeds University graduate musician and Carol Wilson Performance Coach. He has spent many years in amateur and professional bands and has decades of music industry experience.During the 1980s he played drums in many bands and throughout the 1990s made a gradual switch to bass guitar. Also during the 1990s he studied Music Production and song writing.After one too many career disappointments DaNeo turned to novel writing in order to enjoy the so-near-yet-so-far professional success that had at that time eluded him. He now enjoys touring as a musician and promoting his novels.For plenty more information, music, photos, live appearances and a means to contact DaNeo Duran visit: https://www.facebook.com/DaNeoDuranMusician.

Book preview

Enough is Enough

Stage fright is something that’s blighted me since stepping out as a solo musical performer. And in you’re considering reading this book it’s likely that stage fright is causing you problems with public performances or your anticipation of them. But for you is enough, enough?

Following a specific open mic performance in September 2014 my frustration reached criticality. Si who runs the ‘Seize the Mic’ night in the Leeds venue Carpe Diem told me and Ritchie my pal from work that ITV would be recording a TV show (or excerpt) there the following week. Participating artists would sing one song and answer a few questions. Ritchie and I figured, why not? As Si didn’t give us any further information we imagined it’d be a local news story or something equally low-key.

Nevertheless knowing myself as I do I couldn’t leave anything to chance. Who knows who’s watching local news? I’d choose one of my eleven original songs. It’d have to be perfect in private rehearsal if I stood a chance of getting it right in public. As a solo singer/guitarist my track record of live open mic performances had been disappointingly substandard. At time of writing I’ve never done a full gig as a solo artist. For more than a year I’ve been turning up on spec to perform between two and four songs a time at open mic nights. I can’t think of a time when I’ve been pleased with a performance. Something always goes wrong, gets forgotten or just doesn’t impact the way I’d hoped. Generally people clap after I play but during my songs (covers or originals) it’s quite normal to be ignored as people carry on their conversations or worry about their own upcoming performances.

In anticipation of my TV debut I practiced hour after hour both with and without metronome. My chosen song Heading for the Coast became rock solid. The day before Carpe Diem I couldn’t make a mistake if I tried. My overworked fingertips burned painfully. But I didn’t care about the pain because Heading for the Coast with its rapid Merle Travis style finger-picking had never sounded so confident.

On the day in question I checked Facebook and read the disappointing news from Si that ITV had cancelled the show at the last minute. Si appealed to the artists to come along to Carpe Diem anyway for a regular open mic night. Ritchie and I decided we may as well still go. After perfecting Heading for the Coast I thought I should at least show the venue how magnificent it could sound.

Arriving before Ritchie I bought a drink and found a quiet corner to do some casual practice. Despite hurting, my fingers appeared to be working well. I sang softly to warm my voice.

When Si showed up after Ritchie he told us that we’d been wrong guessing that ITV would be doing a local news story. Instead they’d been planning to film for a national reality talent show. It’d differ from Britain’s Got Talent and all the other talent shows in that acts would receive votes exclusively from the public; there’d be no judges or ‘experts’ in sight. The show’s format had been doing extremely well in Germany, the USA and several other countries; that is until those impressive viewing stats nosedived without warning. ITV had been keeping tabs on these and when the overseas shows failed to turn the waning interest around ITV decided not to go ahead with the show. Opportunity really might have come knocking.

Having arrived early to Carpe, Si put me on stage first. Whether that made me more or less nervous I’m not sure. You might imagine going on later would help especially if the preceding acts are lower in standard or make plenty of fluffs. And so already the psychology of stage fright and best performance comes into question. The writing of this book has shown me that following lower standard or less well practiced acts has annoyingly still led me to perform badly. This appears to be due to arrogance or ‘trying too hard’ wrongly thinking, ‘if you liked that you’ll love me.’ Not surprisingly though following high standard acts can also intimidate and unnerve me. This book later discusses the subject of ‘competition’ and its uses/hindrances in our performance attitude.

Another characteristic of stage fright is that despite its suggestive name it’s not necessarily ‘fright’ as in to feel frightened. For example on that fateful night at Carpe I took the stage and adjusted the mic feeling reasonably happy. So Si could get a level I sang a few silly notes and said some ‘one-twos’. To get a guitar level, Si asked me to play as hard as I likely would. Obliging him I strummed an open E-chord. But Heading for the Coast isn’t hefty strumming. It’s finger-picking; a much softer volume technique. Unwittingly I’d just set myself up for the excuse I’d later give as to why I played so badly.

How did I feel? Sure I had plenty of nervousness but nothing so great as fear or fright.

Si’s introductions tend to be so cheerfully enthusiastic it’s difficult not to smile and that helps create a sense of ease. ‘Please give a warm Carpe welcome to DaNeo Duran.’

The time to play had arrived. Weeks earlier I’d played Heading for the Coast at Carpe and hit a wall after Verse-2 when the bridge-to-chorus chords failed to appear in my mind. The song had come to a crashing halt. Ritchie shouted up to stage that I’d already played those chords after Verse-1. I’d kept that incident well in mind during in my subsequent practice which as described had been thorough.

To play a song from beginning to end a singer/guitarist has to remember all the lyrics, the melody, the song’s verse/chorus/middle structure, the chords and how to execute the instrumental parts. I knew all of these aspects perfectly. I consciously knew how precisely my fingers subconsciously knew how to play. My off stage practice minutes earlier had confirmed this. And yet … here, now, my fingers refused to behave. Though the Intro’s chord types came to mind the finger-picking sounded terrible; not that I could hear much of it through the monitors. The information from brain to fingertips seemed to be getting lost or diverted. My fingers appeared to be guessing what they should be doing. They couldn’t connect with the strings as they should – as they’d practiced. For every other open mic appearance I could have put this down to lack of practice. But not this time. There must be another factor at work here. A cloaked stage fright?

In the moment I had no idea what could be causing the problem. I got through Heading for the Coast but it never found its groove. Oddly enough I then I played through the next two songs with comparative success.

Not in a hurry to admit (even to myself) that I’d had crippling stage fright I came off stage and wondered again what could have rendered the first song such a disaster. I reasoned the problem must have been that the guitar couldn’t be heard clearly enough through the monitors. Maybe I should have soundchecked my guitar finger-picking instead of strumming.

Finding Si I told him I’d made a mistake in soundchecking by strumming. Well I had to say something the guy couldn’t have failed to notice me clawing hopelessly at the strings. Incredibly he apologised to me saying me someone else had been using the mixing desk and like when you get back in your car’s driving seat after lending it to another driver you struggle to put the seat back how you had it. I appreciated the kindness of his sentiment.

When I got home I considered what had happened more closely. That’s when the real disappointment set it. I realised I’d lied to Si. It hadn’t been his fault and nor should I have blamed the monitoring. I should have been able to play Heading for the Coast in the blackness and silencing vacuum of outer space. The inarguable truth: my mind and body had failed to engage a state conducive to guitar playing.

The feelings of disappointment that followed that night’s performance breached my patience. That sense of enough being enough became the source of motivation for writing this book. Whether you’ve reached that critical point or not I hope you stay with me and get something of use from reading this book.

The writing of this book has put me in line of dozens of performers. Most seemed to have ‘expert’ opinions of what stage fright is and have been keen to share them. Not only do opinions vary but most performers seem to think their opinion is the only one of value; like I wouldn’t need to ask anyone else or share a book – perhaps a leaflet or single webpage would suffice. As the variety of opinions seems never-ending I have to consider everyone’s opinions and suggestions with an open mind. Hopefully this will ensure at least some of the information in this book eventually hits home to you and all readers.

Despite these variants I’m sure everyone would agree that stage fright robs public performances (musical or otherwise) of joy and their true potential. But an individual’s quest to beat stage fright is likely uniquely personal. Yours and every other performer’s stage fright issues would ideally be assessed on a case by case basis. But as that can’t be achieved in a book of this nature it’s my aim to illustrate my own journey with its variants whilst focusing on stage fright’s commonalities. And as you read question your own situation and consider how the offered information and suggestions could benefit you.

Having written songs and learned some covers I wanted to air them publically. In private rehearsal I can sing and play them on guitar well enough. But as already described when I get out and on stage I perform them badly. The audience doesn’t get the best of me or the songs and therefore they don’t experience the enjoyment they deserve or the experience I’d like them to have. This failure ruins my pleasure of the performance. I wonder if you feel similarly after a public performance? Generally I’m so disappointed when I get off stage that my girlfriend Beverley virtually told me to give up. ‘You don’t enjoy it,’ she said. Well of course I don’t enjoy it. What’s the point of anyone coming to the stage if they can’t successfully communicate their intended message or emotion?

I guess that last question makes a most salient point. Whether you’re a singer, musician, rapper, speaker or dancer when you come to the stage you’re doing it because you’ve got something to say. The more effectively you communicate your message, song or dance the better the chances it’ll be received, understood and appreciated.

So it’s because that fateful open mic slot in September 2014 that I’ve decided enough is enough. I haven’t spent all that time writing songs and developing guitar finger-picking to follow Beverley’s advice and simply give up. I don’t expect you to give up either. I’m determined to find a way of bringing the best of my private rehearsals to the public stage.

Here’s the fascinating thing. When I committed myself to this journey and to write this text I never anticipated its creation would take my thoughts beyond just wanting to beat stage fright’s unpleasantness. It’s caused me to wonder what happens after stage fright’s been beaten? What does it take to be the very best performer I can be? I’m sure many of us wonder this frequently but this time I’m feeling my mind more seriously opening to the idea. I’m expecting answers and I’m expecting a path to greater excellence to unfold. What could I do if I could perform and affect an audience the way I’d like to? Where could performance take me? And (and this was a real eye opener for me) the writing of this book is causing me to ask: do I have stage fright or do I have life fright? How much of life am I missing out on due to fear? Do you wonder the same things?

As an aside, when the band I played bass for split in 2007 I stooped into a depression that sapped me of musical and performance energy. Only my imagination remained. I closed my eyes, imagined, and wrote my first novel Little Spirit where my fictional band enjoyed the successes I’d dreamed of. When I’d finished Little Spirit of which I’m very proud I still hadn’t a scrap of energy to actually get out and enjoy life. So I considered that I’d always wanted to tour America with a band. Again I closed my eyes and wrote Johnny and The USed Wonz. The USed Wonz another fictional band enjoyed the touring and romance that I felt I never would. Life fright? I reckon I’ve had it all my life in greater or lesser degrees. Little Spirit sets up Johnny and The USed Wonz which sets up a third novel. For a third novel I decided to make things really tricky. Unlike the first two novels set in the 1980s this third fictional band would be trying to crack the 2010s; a ‘now’ time whose music industry I no longer understand. The writing ran aground. Now something in me is telling me I have to get up and make it happen for real. Having worked up a set the next challenge is to conquer stage fright.

Though chiefly about freeing yourself from stage fright this book might wake up your performance potential and start you asking questions as to what to do with your newfound awesomeness. I hope you continue reading this book to its end. You could dash through it in no time or until you find points worthy