In a live performance there is always the possibility of messing up. Anyone who has been on stage in front of people has experienced that moment when the next words don’t come out or the sounds that do are all wrong. Up there, under the lights, there is nowhere to hide. There is no delete button or editing function. Whatever happens becomes part of the show. For better or worse it is woven into the fabric of the performance. The best performers know that, embrace it as part of the process and in a way, enjoy the feeling of risk involved in knowing it is a possibility.
Lisa Cole Smith
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Part of the reason why open mics are so great is that they are a training ground for just this sort of thing — a place to be heard in front of an audience without the pressure of having to be perfect, a place to learn how to handle it when things go wrong. Ideally, an open mic is a safe space, but this does nothing to deaden the instant of sheer panic that comes when you find yourself in that spot, feeling the immediacy of being lost, wanting to beat yourself up for making a mistake and then the realization that you have to do something.
There are a couple of options when this occurs. First, try to pretend like nothing happened, smooth the mistake over into the rest of the piece and keep moving. This is usually the preferred option as many times the audience doesn’t even notice you’ve made a mistake. The second option is to stop and start over from the beginning — just try it all over again. This is a bit awkward and rarely a good idea; most of the time it isn’t even an option. Finally, you can pause for a second, steady yourself, then pick up from where you left off and finish. I’ve seen all of these occur. I’m pretty sure I’ve done all of these as well. But I’ve never seen what I witnessed the other night.
A young man with immense talent as both a singer and a songwriter took his place at the mic and shared a story with the audience about his desire to meet another musician whom he admired. His plan was to film himself playing a cover of a song he loved so well that the artist who wrote it would agree to meet him when he saw it. The camera was turned on, he began to play, and he sang very well. But then, somewhere around the mid-point of the song, he got lost. With a funny look on his face the young man’s voice trailed off and finally stopped. He looked down, thought for a moment and then looked at the audience and asked; “What should I do? I’m going to let you choose. Should I stop now, start this thing over and get it right for the tape or just finish it?”
My initial thought was to let him go back and start over. After all, he had big plans for the recording. I thought that would be the most encouraging thing to do. But immediately after he asked his question a roar came from the crowd. Speaking with one voice, the audience cheered, “Finish it!” There was a bit of disappointment on the singer’s face, but then he smiled, took a deep breath and began to play again. He finished perfectly to loud applause — without the camera.
I left that evening wondering why my response was so different. What was it that this group of musicians saw that I didn’t? I think they were demanding their right to be the audience. That brief hiccup in the middle of a beautiful song was not a distraction for them, but the effort to start over for the tape would have been. They were saying; “One mistake doesn’t wipe out the beauty of what we’ve heard so far or what is to come. If you are really doing it for us, stay here in this moment and finish.” I think they were demonstrating true accountability and grace.
In life, as on stage, it’s about keeping our eyes on the right audience. When we have those hiccups we are to adjust, renew our focus and continue on, knowing that God sees the whole scope of our lives and is cheering us on to learn and to grow. If we live in a constant state of wishing for do-overs we are unlikely to turn in any kind of audience-worthy performance at all, but if instead we are focused on the roar of God’s loving voice, we will finish well, honoring God’s right to be the audience for our lives.
Lisa Cole Smith ([email protected]) is pastor of Convergence: A Creative Community of Faith, in Alexandria, Va.