Friday, April 3, 2009

T Minus 3 Hours

Realistically, this is the first show I've ever played live, solo and for money. I don't know why I've spent the day being this nervous – it's something I've done a thousand times before. I know these songs like the back of my hand, because they're a part of me, and maybe that's the problem. There's more invested this time around.

This isn't some hole-in-the-wall coffeehouse in a backwater Ontario town, or a house party full of my friends who don't care if I'm almost too drunk to play but I can still weasel my way through Year Long Day well enough for the point to get across. This is as close as I'm likely to get to the “big time” – it's a venue that has been played by numerous big acts, in a city that's about as metropolitan as you're going to get in Canada. There's a cover at the door, and to get paid I've had to ask the people coming to mention specifically they're here to see Alexander James. I updated my Facebook music page today and saw that I have crested 90 “fans” – I'm actually uncomfortable using the term demarcated by the little blue box on my screen, because at the end of the day, who am I to be thinking of people gracious enough to dig what I do as “fans”?

It's different playing cover shows, you know? I can get up and play The Gambler or Sweet Home Alabama or whatever, all night, every night, until I drop dead of boredom, and it never feels like this. I've invested something into these songs; the set list I've come up with for tonight consists of some of the songs closest to me. All the same old bullshit runs through my head – what if I'm no good? What if I fuck up or break a string at the wrong time or forget words to my own damn songs? And even if I play to the absolute best of my ability, even if it goes off without a hitch, what if the people who come out who aren't already my friends (and thus biased in my favour) hate what I do? I've invested so much into this music thing: personally, emotionally, financially. To say it would be a shame if it didn't work out is something of a gross understatement.

I love what I do. I love to perform. Being onstage is the only place I want to be. I want to touch people, make people feel things when they listen to my music. And in a landscape coloured by thousands of musicians both better and worse off than I am, I desperately fear mediocrity. I either want to be great, or I want to hang it up. And I think I could be great, but I fight with my ego all the time. One part of me wants to believe, the other part is afraid of staining the art with arrogance by thinking I'm better than I am. Maybe that makes me a better artist. Maybe that makes me an amateur. Probably it makes me a little of both.

I spent the day talking to friends about my concerns, because I'm lucky enough to have friends with whom I can have that kind of dialogue, and they all did their best to reassure me. I didn't feel better, not much, but it did help to talk about it. But there's really only one person whose opinion truly colours my perceptions deeply enough to change my mood, at least on this topic. So I emailed my father.

From: Alex Krueger

To: James Krueger

Re: show tonight

So tonight is the big night; I'm going to go over to the Reverb with Sean around 8 to see what needs to be done as far as setting up goes. I have the song list in order and I think I'm ready to go. The humidifier has helped the fretboard issue somewhat (it's not perfect, but it's much better than it was) so I'll see how it is today (humidifying for the day).

On some level I'm a bit nervous as it's the first solo paid show I'm doing -- I really don't want to fuck anything up because this may be my chance to attract decent attention to start getting other shows, but on the same token I'm very excited -- I have really internalized your advice about being "real" and I think I can do that better when I'm onstage performing for a real audience. My biggest concern is the weather -- it's pissing rain down here and is expected to for the rest of the night, so I have a feeling that will affect the turnout, but really at the end of the day if I get to play a live venue I could be playing for the few friends who show up and it would be all right.

Any last-minute words of advice from a veteran bluesman?


Shortly after I received his response.


From: James Krueger

To: Alex Krueger

Re: show tonight

Approach every venue like it is your first time, and play every show like it is your last....keep the facial expressions to a minimum, and engage your audience no matter how small....you will do just fine if not better. Break a leg.

I ruminated on that for most of the day. I think what my father was trying to express in his typical quotable way was that I need to be honest and not get a swelled head , but also that I need to believe in my ability to connect with an audience through this medium, and to do it with as much passion as I can muster. It's probably the best musical advice I've ever received, and I'm going to do my best to take it to heart.

In my heart I know I was born to do this – or something like this. The only thing I've ever really been any good at is writing, and songwriting allows me to take that to the stage in ways that theater or comedy never could. I know I am a decent songwriter, a solid guitar player and a passable singer. I know these things, and I believe these things, but it's sometimes hard to translate that into the moment.

But when I think about being onstage tonight; when I step up to that microphone and introduce myself to a room full of strangers who are probably there to see someone else, and when I play the first strains of a song I wrote about leaving a nowhere town to do just this very thing, I know what I'll feel.

I'll feel the heat of the lights, and see the silhouettes of the audience, and I'll run my fingers over the frets of my new guitar, and even though we haven't gotten to know one another very well, I'll know it will do its job. I'll breathe deep, slide up, hit the right note, and it will all fall into place, at least for me. And if I can't do this for me, I don't have any business doing it for any other reason.

I'm going to take a long walk on a very short limb, and damn the consequences. This is what I do; this is who I am.