Lessons I Learned While Wearing Leather Pants

I've been on this internet block long enough that I should have known better than to title a post "Did I mention the naked dancing girls?". Inevitably, this has waylaid a few Google researchers on their way to other places, but to them I say, "Welcome! Stay for the hot intellectual discussion about culture!"

But actually, that brings the conversation neatly around to the importance of honesty and straightforwardness in audience development. The "butts in seats" movement is often focused on inspiring folks who are not already in the club in such a way that they will feel interested enough or comfortable enough to walk through the gilded gates. And those efforts are sometimes wonderfully well-intentioned. And sometimes they are not--they just fulfill things like the "audience diversity" line in grant requirements. In either case, attracting attention by posing as something else is often the go-to tactic in these operations, and it doesn't do anyone much good. More often it just makes everyone feel a little silly, or worse. My mom once told me that a cough medicine was just some Kool-Aid before she plunged the spoon into my unsuspecting mouth. I feel resentment about that rude shock to this day.

Recently I had the chance to chat with some students who were trying to make a go of a performance career backed by a serious amount of classical training. These people were all heavyweights in the skill dept. Some of them also signaled a particular cross-scene comfort with trendy haircuts and demonstrative clothing choices. But this left other performers in the room with questions. They didn't want to be cool like this or hip like them. They loved the work of some obscure 17th-century Baroque composer and wanted to present that work to their audiences. Still, life as a performing musician was already hard enough; was this a point that they would have to concede? Was a faux-cool-like-that stance the only way to an audience? Was a MySpace page and an American Apparel wardrobe seriously the only way?

If I had felt it was appropriate to yell in such a well-appointed conference room, I would have taken the opportunity to plead, "NO! NO! PLEASE STOP AND THINK BEFORE YOU DRINK THAT/PIERCE THAT/LET THAT MAN TATTOO THAT ON YOUR BODY!!"

If anything is clear to me while my nose is pressed this close to today, it's that people--the strangers you pass on the street everyday--are interested in the lives, loves, hopes, and dreams of real people. Reality TV, Facebook, and blogging have been good for that lesson, if nothing else. But what has evolved out of that is a demand for truth. We have only to look at the history-stretching memoirists who've been taken to the gallows to see how serious the audience is on this point. Stories are no longer good enough; we want to escape into each other's stranger-than-fiction realities. So express that. Don't traipse awkwardly in heels through repertoire you wouldn't buy yourself. Say your own thing, and--just as importantly--say it very well, very loudly, and with all the conviction you can gather. Your audience--maybe 3,000, maybe 30--but your audience, is waiting for you.