Funny is always better than good
Being good at music is not interesting. It’s boring. As a musician (or any kind of artist) you need to earn people’s attention. It’s not good enough to write good songs, practise for ages and record a good album. It’s not good enough to gig five nights a week. It’s not even good enough to get signed any more. All of these things are useful, but none guarantees you people’s attention.
When you play live, you enter into a negotiation with the audience. You start by putting in the effort to promote the gig and get them to turn up. In return for that, they arrive. And they promise you their attention for about 3 minutes.
So what do you do when the spotlight is shining in your face, when you have one chance to transform a moment of fleeting attention into a long and beautiful relationship between your art and its audience?
You have to entertain people
That’s your half of the deal. You entertain people in return for their attention. Like it or not, you’re an entertainer. All musicians like it on some level: there’s no way people would put that much effort into playing music if they didn’t want some other people to hear it. But a lot of musicians persuade themselves that they don’t like it at all. They want to hang on stage like a masterpiece on a museum wall and be appreciated.
For reference, the following are not in themselves entertaining:
- Virtuosic playing
- Baring your soul
- Beautifully poetic lyrics
- Playing in time
- Singing in tune
- Dressing cleverly
- Being loud
- Tuning up
- Having a funny band name
If you’re not convinced, remember this: people aren’t choosing which gig to go to. They are choosing how to be entertained. Your competition isn’t other bands. It’s widescreen TV, pubs, clubs, dinner with friends or a good book. I’ve seen gigs by very good bands that were less entertaining than reading a chapter of Titus Groan with a cup of tea. And those bands have now lost my attention. I know they’re good, I know I enjoy their music. But I’m not engaged any more. I don’t have time for bands that aren’t going to entertain me.
Let me be clear about what I mean by “entertain”. I’m not talking about cheese, I’m not talking about audience interaction or variety shows. And I don’t mean “funny”. You can be entertaining and moody. You can be entertaining and quiet. You can be entertaining and serious. You can be entertaining without talking. You can be entertaining without moving. But like my old friend Nick used to say, “Funny is always better than good.”
To entertain an audience is to hold their attention and give them enjoyment. The word “entertain” can also mean to receive someone as a guest, and that’s a good way of thinking about it. By making music and putting it out there, you have invited a bunch of people into your musical home. It’s now your responsibility to make it a good party. If people sit in silence listening to you tell six or seven stories then leave, it probably wasn’t a good party.
Ben’s Big Gig was all about entertainment
We made sure Ben’s Big Gig was entertaining. Whenever there was a decision to be made there was one final criterion: “Will it be entertaining?” I dropped some of my favourite songs from the set list. I put the band together. I had the Funky Llamas play an interval set instead of being a support band. I gave the audience the Twitter screen so they could heckle. I booked George Chopping to compère. I booked Tom Greeves to do a whole stand-up set in the middle of the gig. I put two shrubs on stage. I got Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall to endorse the gig. All in the name of entertainment.
I knew the music would be good. But I also knew that if I just walked on stage and played sixteen songs back to back people would be bored out of their skulls.
Music has a universal appeal. Most people will enjoy most music given the right context. If you entertain the audience, they will like you and your music. They will abandon all preconceptions about your musical style and your character. They will have a favourite song. They will tell their friends about how great a time they had and how great the music was.
Steve Lawson knows this. He plays solo bass guitar. Nobody in their right mind hears the phrase “solo bass guitar” and rushes to buy tickets. It’s a hard act to sell, if that’s the way you try to sell it. Luckily, Steve doesn’t do that. He has interesting conversations with people. He talks about how great house concerts are. He tells people about the exciting stuff he does with social media. He earns their attention. Then when he mentions months later that he’s putting on a house concert tour, or playing a gig somewhere, people turn up. And they enjoy the music. A lot. Steve’s a brilliant musician, but in a way that’s a bonus. The audience turn up for him and for the event.
Sell it on the story
The bonus of having an entertaining show is that you can sell it on its entertainment factor, not on the quality of the music. When the audience arrives and hears how great the music is they will want to buy CDs, sign up to mailing lists and tell their friends about you. But that’s not what gets them in the door.
You can’t get people excited about a show by telling them how in tune the singer is, how perfectly the band replicates the sound of the album or how efficiently the band can set up and soundcheck. People get excited by the prospect of entertainment. That’s why circus posters say things like “Death-defying leaps!”, “A woman with the head of a chicken!” or “Monkeys!” instead of “A really well-rehearsed band accompanying an seemingly dangerous acrobatic performance for two hours with a short interval”.
That would be boring.
And speaking of funny…
I just finished editing the video of Dressing Up from the Big Gig. Nothing makes me happier than the sound of 200 people singing “on a t-shirt, yeah, yeah”. ;)
