Electronic Music Open Mic Nights
I was chatting to a friend a couple of weeks ago about performing music live.
"There needs to be an element of danger - the sense that everything could go wrong,"
he said. I'll come back to that.
I had been pondering the question of self promotion for a while. Playing live must be one of the best options. You get instant feedback from the audience response and, if you're good, you can build a bit of rapport.
As I create all my music on a digital audio workstation (DAW) and I don't play an instrument I had mentally written off this option. I met my aforementioned friend at a performance of the Norwich Philharmonic Society for whom another friend plays and afterwards the topic got round to Norfolk Electronic Music Open Mic (EMOM) nights.
EMOM is a national movement in the United Kingdom (UK) and the idea is, I guess, like any open mic evening. At the start of the evening you book a slot during that evening where you can perform your stuff. The 'Electronic Music' prefix just serves as reassurance to potentially introverted electronic musicians (PIEM) that their gadgetry won't be frowned upon.
"But what if your instrument is just a laptop?" I asked.
"That's fine," said my friend and, later, Hardwired (AKA Barry), the friendly and generous host of the Norfolk EMOM.
"We've even had guys just plug in their phone and play that," I think I remember Barry saying.
I was elated after getting a good reception in the January EMOM and the adrenaline fuelled a speedy cycle home.
A day or two later, I subscribed to Barry's Instagram and watched back some of the highlights. I enjoyed reliving what had been a great evening and was excited to hear from Found Object, a Leicester EMOMer. I couldn't help noticing there was something lacking in my performance though: any sort of movement or engagement with the audience. A very charitable friend remarked on Facebook that it was 'understated'.
I formulated a seemingly foolproof plan to rectify this in February. I ordered a big, red button from eBay and made an electronic cover version of the BeeGees' hit Stayin' Alive.
What could go wrong? I arrived a bit later than intended and got an 11pm slot. As various acts (including Kiffie the Dreamer) impressed throughout the evening my conviction that dancing to the BeeGees was a good idea began to dwindle. By 10:30pm so too had the audience along with the meds that I need to keep me moving.
It was time to set up my 'rig' while the thoroughly entertaining Abominable played his set. This set-up consists of plugging in my laptop and switching it on. The plugging in went OK though my hands were a bit shaky. The 'on' button lit up when I pressed it. Then it went off again. I tried pressing it quickly, for a long time and for a very long time. Same thing. I left it for a few minutes then tried again. Hallelujah! It worked! I typed in three digits of my Personal Identification Number (PIN) and it died. This time, it was really gone even with Barry's Information Technology (IT) knowhow.
"It's OK, I'll do it on my phone," I said.
"If you like," said Barry.
A couple of minutes after Barry's generous introduction, reality began to sink in. I was a middle-aged bloke dancing without conviction or coordination in front of a few bewildered onlookers in a pub basement. As what remained of my confidence drained away, I was immobile again without even the protection of a laptop cover and the attendant question of whether I'm secretly sending emails or playing Minesweeper behind there.
This wasn't what I wanted. It wasn't what Barry wanted. It wasn't what my two loyal friends who had been patiently waiting since 7:30pm wanted. It wasn't what the two blokes who were trying to have a conversation over a synthesised version of Barry Gibb wanted.
Barry judiciously presented the perfect opportunity for me to finish early by cheering and clapping loudly after three tunes. Stubbornly, I blundered on, determined to at least get my money's worth from the big, red button.
At last it was over. The remaining assembly collectively unclenched their buttocks, released their rictus grins and sucked in huge gasps of air as they began to breathe again. My sincere apologies to the excellent Michael Winner's Incredible Bingo Band whose act I missed as I hastily left in search of a rock under which I could crawl to die.
Despite all that, I heartily recommend attending your local EMOM either as a performer or as a spectator. If the Norfolk one is anything to go by, you will experience a warm welcome and some diverse and entertaining music.
My cycle home was slower this time and this scene from Fawlty Towers ran through my mind each time I thought about my laptop.
Every Diatonic Diary entry ends with a plug for an act who aren't as well known as they deserve to be. This time it is a track from the brilliant Joe Adhemar's new album which, fittingly (for this blog) and beautifully describes the disappointment of one's music being lost within the vastness of the internet.
Comments
Post a Comment