1. Head

Hand a drum to a three-year-old child, and what happens?

I’ll give you a moment to imagine it ;)

When children are introduced to music-making, they naturally and automatically come to it with a spirit of joy, exploration, and creativity.

Fast-forward through several years of formal lessons, method books and grade exams… and that once-carefree toddler is now wracked with anxiety before their end-of-term recital.

Adult musicians have often either been through that same transformation, or they begin learning music as an adult but bring into it all their academic baggage, jumping straight to that “final test” mentality around performance.

We know in our hearts that music is a social artform. It’s about sharing, it’s about connecting, it’s about expressing. And not to take away from the joy one can have, playing music by yourself, alone in a room—but even someone who feels great resistance (and even fear) around performing knows deep down that if they could bring themselves to “put on a show”, it would take their musical fulfilment to a whole new level.

So how can we get back to that deep-rooted spirit of music-making as centred on sharing the music we love with others?

We need to re-examine the “Head” aspect of Performance: all the ways we think about and approach performing.

One key difference between that toddler with a drum and the nervous, trained musician is that the toddler is fully focused on the activity and the experience of music-making. Yes, they’re also blessed with a complete disregard for the judgement of those around them! But they see music-making as a process or an activity, rather than a series of lessons to later be tested on. This can transform our relationship with performing—and it’s never too late.

We can do this both through Performance Practice (as already discussed) so that performing becomes a natural part of our day-to-day musical activities, and by shifting our mindset from aiming for the “perfect” performance to aiming for the “ideal” performance.

This isn’t about lowering our standards, or limiting our aspirations. Remember the “Shoot for the moon” principle from Chapter 2: Mindset: we do want to aim high. But if our goal is to bring out our best possible performance, then that should be what we’re aiming for. Not the black-and-white “don’t make any mistakes” robotic perspective on what makes a “good” performance, but a much broader, all-encompassing perspective which recognises that the best performances of all time, and the ones which truly move the listener, are about much more than just “getting the notes right”.

When we shift our perspective in this way we can begin to see that there are actually things more important than “not making mistakes”. In fact, our ideal performance on any given day could, in technical terms, actually include a mistake or two.

If that’s hard for you to swallow right now, let me share something I found fascinating, and which I often think of in this context of “the ideal performance”.

When I studied for my Masters degree, my final research project was on automatic transcription of vocal melodies. Feed in an MP3 of a song, and my program would spit out a MIDI transcription of the melody being sung. This involved first separating out the vocalist’s part of the overall mix, and then analysing the pitches.

What blew my mind was that one of the easiest ways to identify the vocal part was that its pitch was all over the place! Generally, the other instruments like piano or guitar would hit their notes pretty much dead-on and stay on that pitch for each note. The vocal part, on the other hand, would swoop up and down to each note. It would wobble throughout the note. Often it would actually be a bit sharp or flat compared to the notional target pitch. And these weren’t amateur singers—these were world-renowned artists on classic tracks!

It made a massive impact on me to see so clearly that the “ideal” vocal performance was, in technical terms, always full of “mistakes”.

Having been raised to think purely in terms of “right and wrong notes”, it opened my mind to the reality that music is an extremely fuzzy art—and that often the beauty and power of music lies in its deviations from the notional music theory definition of “right and wrong”.

This can free you up to focus on what truly matters: Creativity, Connection and Conversation.

Creativity

Depending on your personal balance of Performer and Creative Cores, the idea of Creativity being key to great musical performances might seem quite odd, even alien.

Here’s a wonderful metaphor which our Head Educator Andrew introduced in our course on performing, which many members found liberating:

“Imagine driving at night. All you see are the lines on the road and the signs that guide you from one location to another. As long as you follow all the instructions, you will arrive at your destination. But if you miss a turn, it might be some time before you realise it and can get back on track.

Often, we play music as we would drive at night. We pay exclusive attention to the signs that tell us where to go, and we congratulate ourselves if we’ve made it to the end without getting lost. But making music can be so much more than that!

Now imagine that you’re driving the same route during the day. You see not just the road, but the trees and the buildings. You pass a street and know that your hairdresser’s shop is just around the corner. You pass a building and remember the wonderful lunch you had with your spouse on the top floor.

You know not just your own route, but everything around you. No matter how many times you drive it, there is always something different—the clouds, the seasons, new construction, different memories.

And if you run into a detour, or decide to make a quick stop to visit a friend, you know a myriad of possible ways to get back on track.

Our musical experiences can be just as rich and varied. Even if we’re playing the same piece over and over, we can rejoice in all the choices and possibilities that surround us.”

Improvisation vs. Interpretation

When we play “other people’s music” (whether from a written score or by ear) there seems to be a clearly-defined “right” and “wrong” way to do it. We want to get the rhythms right, the notes right, the expression right, the chords right. All these “rights” are pre-determined by the composer’s choices.

We tend to see playing everything “right” as the main (or only) goal of our performance. Not playing the right notes means that we’ve made a “mistake”, and it can derail our whole performance if we let it.

When we improvise, we choose the notes ourselves. Some notes may sound better to us than others, but we can always choose the next one to bring the music closer to what we want to create. We are not judging ourselves against the right and wrong of a pre-composed piece, but purely on what sounds good to us and where we want to take the music.

Improvisation can help us recapture that childhood love of creating and sharing music, spontaneously and naturally.

At the same time, playing “other people’s music” can also be deeply inspiring and satisfying. When we learn music that we enjoy, we tend to play it again and again, maybe even for the rest of our lives.

So how can we harness the power of Creativity that inspires us to want to share our music, even when playing pre-composed music?

The key is in our choices, and the art of making choices when playing pre-composed music is what we call interpretation.

In an episode of our Coaches Corner video series, Next Level coach Zac Bailey shared a huge breakthrough one of his clients had. She realised that they had been treating the sheet music as the boss—and yet without her, the player, the sheet music was just dots on a page. She was then able to reclaim her musical authority by realising that she was the boss—and the sheet music was simply there to serve her in her music-making.

So our first creative choice is the simple act of bringing the music to life by choosing to play the piece!

From there, even though we do not necessarily choose the notes, there are so many other places for us to exercise our creative choices.

We explore this art of interpretation in detail in Chapter 17: Expression, unpacking all of the possibilities available to us in Pitch, Rhythm, Dynamics and Timbre, with each and every note. We become a co-creator with the original composer of the music, conjuring up our own unique rendition of the music each time we play.

Expression can be worked out in advance, but can also occur as spontaneous musical choices in the moment. In this way even a performance of pre-composed music can tap into the energy and power of Improvisation.

The more we can engage ourselves in creative choices before and during our performance experience, the more connected we feel, and the more excitement we feel about sharing the music with others. Rather than seeing our experience as “following the signs and staying inside the lines”, we are surrounded by a rich context of possibilities, and we reach new levels of confidence that if there’s a bump in the road, we have the resources and experience to get back on track.

The “perfect” performance leaves nothing to the imagination. There are no creative choices to make. The music is frozen in time, like a robot replaying a recording.

The “ideal” performance can be new and exciting each time, through the infinite creative choices we can make to respond to each moment and bring out our own unique musical expressiveness.

Conversation

Like Creativity, “Conversation” may not seem like an obvious part of what a great musical performance is all about! As we noted in the introduction, musicians tend to be “all output” when it comes to performing music, fully focused on their own playing and making sure they “get it right”.

But if music is a social artform and all about sharing musical experiences with others, we can immediately see the problem there.

Imagine trying to have a conversation with somebody where they had their eyes closed, their fingers in their ears, and any time you tried to speak they said “la la la, I can’t hear you!”. You wouldn’t put up with that shared social experience for long.

Spoken conversations involve a back-and-forth interaction, with each person responding in the moment to the other. Not just the words, but the way they speak them, their facial expressions, their gestures, their body language. In a true conversation, even the most complex and challenging topics can be productively, creatively, and successfully tackled.

Music can be no less complex, meaningful, emotional and personal than a spoken conversation—but that will never happen if it’s “all output”.

So how can we bring the safe vulnerability, the creative communication, and the exhilaration we feel in spoken conversation with friends and loved ones into the way we perform music?

Contexts for Conversation

The type of Conversation available to us in a live performance varies widely according to the genre.

In many popular genres, it’s common to have literal verbal conversations with audience members in between songs, and to engage with audience members directly while singing or playing an instrument. The audience may be invited to participate directly in the performance through singing, clapping, dancing, etc. Intimate performances (meaning small spaces and/or small audiences) in any genre can also include less ritual formality and more interaction, at least in between songs or pieces. There may also be the opportunity to mingle with the audience afterwards—when, notably, you are still playing the role of “performer”!

In some genres, it’s customary for there to be a separation between the performers and the audience: what’s known in the theatre world as “the fourth wall”. For example, at a classical symphony concert there is a ritualised beginning where the conductor acknowledges the applauding audience. The audience will then sit in complete silence during the performance, only to respond with applause—or perhaps “pre-approved” words like “bravo!” or “brava!” at the end.

Yet even where there is this fourth wall, the wall is transparent. And even if the performance space is dark, the audience is felt.

Even with some of the forms of interaction mentioned above, we might still consider the audience to be the “listener” and the performer to be the “speaker”. But in a true conversation, every participant expresses, and every participant listens.

Conversation with the Audience

It’s common for musicians to play mind games and use other techniques to pretend the audience isn’t there, or to make them seem less intimidating. Closing your eyes, focusing on one audience member, maybe even imagining them in their underwear, as the classic advice goes! These techniques can help alleviate nerves, but they’re all ways to avoid fully feeling the audience’s presence and tend to block the true conversation we could be having.

So what if we leaned into that energy—what Musical U team member and professional opera singer Hannah Dobra calls “the frizzle”?

What if, as well as expressing our musical message, we also listened to the roar of the silent audience? What would they be saying?

The reason we find audiences intimidating is that we are projecting our own idea of what they are thinking and feeling—and typically the voice we “hear” from them is in fact our own Inner Critic. More on that in a moment.

But have you ever stopped to think about what you think and feel yourself, when you go to a live musical performance?

As audience members ourselves, we don’t show up looking for mistakes and imperfections, and thinking about all the ways the show is lacking. Our inner voice tends to sound a lot more like “I’m so excited! I love this band! This is going to be amazing!”

So while we may not have the opportunity to literally hear those supportive thoughts out loud like with a spoken conversation, it’s helpful to remember that when we are with our audience, we are among people that want to love and support us.

When we open ourselves up to listen to the true message of the “frizzle”, we can elevate our “recital” into becoming a deep and uplifting conversation.

Conversation with Other Musicians

Another level of Conversation takes place between us and our fellow musicians. Whether we’re walking with them into a rehearsal or onto the stage, this conversation can bring a greater level of comfort, ease, and a constructive place for any jitters to flow into.

Audiences love to witness the relationships that musicians have with each other. They love to see the band members interacting, whether it’s the subtle swaying of a string quartet or the wild stage antics of a metal band.

Our audience may or may not be familiar with all the intricacies of music-making, but our fellow musicians share that deeper knowledge. This can be a source of comfort—or a cause of terror, since we may feel like they can really see inside us and judge our skills.

I’m not going to pretend there isn’t sometimes elitism, snobbery and judgemental behaviour on full display in certain musical communities! But even if you’re faced with those kinds of attitudes, the conversation which happens during the music-making itself is one that every musician is eager to engage in.

When we embrace that shared goal of interacting musically with one another, we open ourselves up to the rich and unique context of each live performance. Rather than just focusing in on our own separate parts, we can engage in Conversation by listening to the other musicians, reaching out to them visually, through the way we play, or even just in our minds, feeling how our parts interact with theirs as we move with the music.

Conversation with the Music

Music itself is saturated with Conversation. Each note is in relationship with the notes before and after. Each phrase responds in some way to the last, and calls out for the next. Pitch converses with rhythm, melody converses with harmony, instruments converse one with another. Our right hands converse with our left hands, and with every other part of our body to bring out the sounds we desire through our instruments. And our instruments respond to our movements in another kind of musical conversation.

Through listening, we can become more aware of and engaged in the conversations embedded in our music, more engaged in our expression and our flow, and more able to connect with our fellow musicians and our audiences. We’ll explore these ideas about listening more in the Hearing section below.

Connection

When we open up to Conversation, we have the opportunity for deeper Connection with our audience and fellow musicians. When we tap into our Creativity, we find Connection through owning our choices in our musical expression.

Some describe this deep connection as being “in the zone”. In the scientific world, researchers like Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi have come to call this the “Flow state”.

Some describe “being in the zone” as some kind of out-of-body place. They may describe it as being “lost in the music”, where the awareness and performance rise to such a high level that it’s difficult to describe or even remember the experience.

While there’s no question that these heightened states exist, we can also make it into the Flow state while keeping our conscious awareness. While it may seem like we have to find some magical switch to turn on, our access to Flow is built bit-by-bit as we root out resistance and learn to become more engaged, present, and connected with the moment-by-moment process of our musical performance.

There are precise scientific definitions of that Flow state, but it’s also valuable to us in the more informal sense. Music flows from moment to moment, and our ideal performance can too.

We can start to nurture our ability to find flow through paying attention to Creativity and Conversation in our performances. Later in the chapter we’ll look at how you can plan for, practice, and develop your own approach to finding Flow. But all of it is for naught if we don’t also learn to reduce our resistance to flow, and there’s one major barrier in particular which can easily prevent us from ever getting “in the zone” during a performance.

The Inner Critic

Perhaps you’ve heard the performance advice before that you need to “Get out of your head!” Easy to say… Not so easy to do!

Thinking during a performance isn’t itself necessarily a problem. That advice to “get out of your head” is referring more to that critical, overly-analytical voice. You know the one. It yammers on and on, picking apart everything you do, highlighting all the mistakes and imperfections. Sometimes it grows quieter as we get more connected with our music—but make one little mistake, and all the criticism comes flooding back in.

We can try to reason with our “Inner Critic”. We can try asking it to be nicer, or to quiet down. But the Inner Critic is a master of logic and finds every possible opportunity to speak up. It’s extremely hard to simply “fire” your Inner Critic.

We’ve found that one of the most effective ways to deal with that critical voice is to not fire it—but to give it a new job.

The Inner Critic’s job qualifications include careful observation, precise analysis, attention to detail, and tenacity. Flow state researchers have shown over and over that rather than being the enemy, these very same qualities can actually help us to access our Flow.

Remember that the “ideal” performance does not exclude the possibility of mistakes—of learning, growing, and improving. Every performance provides us with direction of what we can improve on next, to level up our performing skills.

So rather than trying to shut down this inner observer which has been so effective in its Critic role, let’s leverage its strengths but reassign it to the role of “Inner Listener”:

• The Listener is responsible for simply observing the details of our musical performance.
• The Listener remembers the past, responds to the present, and helps us make choices for the future as we unfold the flow of our music in time.
• If we go off course, the Listener notes that, without judgment, and (with rapid-fire analysis) helps us make course-correcting choices.
• The Listener keeps a list of details that we may want to address in our practicing as we prepare for the next performance.
• The Listener encourages and supports us, by noticing everything that’s going right in our performance too.

While the Critic’s job is to prove that you are unworthy, the Listener’s job is to keep you always on course to grow and improve.

Reassigning our inner observer to the “Listener” role helps us to shift from “right or wrong” to “better or worse”, and from black-and-white judgement to a more constructive spectrum of evaluation.

There’s plenty of work to keep it busy! And if it slips sometimes into Critic mode, we can gently and compassionately redirect it into Listener mode—because we’ve experienced how counter-productive the Critic is, and how beneficial the Listener can be.

Just as we will learn to open up the flow of love and support from our audience, we will learn to engage the inner observer’s skills as a flow of love and support from within us. Our trusted Listener becomes one with our Creativity, transforming our inner Conversation.