Turning Failure Into Freedom: Quit or Keep Going?

Yesterday was one of those days.

By 9:30 p.m., and until I went to bed at midnight, I was seriously considering quitting this whole music thing.

I’m still reeling from it this morning, but hopefully I have a little more perspective.

We were under a heat advisory yesterday, but I got up and out walking early, so I avoided the worst of it while getting my exercise and other tasks done in the morning and early afternoon.

Actually, I was having a great day up until then.

It wasn’t until mid-afternoon that things turned.

I had decided to drive to two open mics. One started at 4 p.m. and went until 7 p.m., and the other started at 7 p.m. and was scheduled to go until 9 p.m.

At 2:45 p.m., I got in my car and drove to the first one, a little over an hour away.

On the way, I was passing a large dump truck when…

BAM!!

It sounded like a gunshot, and for a moment I thought a bullet had struck my windshield.

I now have a circular crack in the windshield and need to schedule time to have someone look at it and hopefully repair it without replacing the entire windshield.

I got a picture of the dump truck, the company logo, and the driver’s license number, but how do you prove something like this?

If it comes to that, I’ll turn it over to my insurance company.

Nevertheless, I arrived on time, ordered a non-alcoholic beer, and joined some of the musicians near the stage.

I told the host I needed to duck out a little early, and he graciously offered to move me up in the lineup.

I told him, “No worries. I’m fourth up.”

Normally, I try to stay for the entire show to honor the other musicians and respect the host’s time and effort.

Sometimes you even get another opportunity to play.

Last night would have been one of those nights if I’d stayed.

A group of young women came in to sing karaoke-style. The host simply plugged in their phone, and the backing tracks played.

After I finished my three songs, two of them got up and sang Feed Me from Little Shop of Horrors.

One of the singers has an amazing voice.

That was a lot of fun.

She stayed up and sang two more karaoke songs, which was fine, too.

Then one of her friends got up and sang three songs.

These were not short songs, either.

Whatever happened to the three-minute pop song?

I guess in the age of American Idol worship and solo singer “artists,” that’s no longer what sells.

Meanwhile, the musicians I was sitting with were grousing about what a waste of time this was.

One of them got up and left without playing his slot.

People who know him said he’s a bit like that. If something ticks him off, he simply leaves.

Apparently, turning the open mic into a karaoke party was enough for him.

Then another musician got up and played three songs. All were excellent.

By then it was time for me to leave.

I said my goodbyes and headed thirty minutes north to the next pub, closer to home.

I arrived around 6:30 p.m.

Besides the host and one other musician, I was it.

There was a bartender and two guys drinking at the bar.

I figured the heat wave was probably keeping people home.

Oh well.

I was there, so I signed up for the third slot.

The host took his time setting up because he assumed turnout would be low.

He finally started around 7:15 and played four songs.

Then another musician joined him, and together they did a fun version of Lou Reed’s Walk on the Wild Side.

The second musician stayed up and played two more songs.

Meanwhile, a fourth musician arrived.

Then a fifth.

Then…

Johnny Bravo.

The mysterious “local” guy from the mysterious “local” band. (SEe Johnny Bravo Lives article)

That irritated the heck out of me because, once again, he remained standoffish and immediately went to sit by himself in the back of the pub.

Given the low turnout, I actually thought he’d left.

But no.

Without saying hello to anyone, he walked up and quietly signed the roster, taking the sixth slot.

I got up and played two songs.

During my set, about three more musicians showed up.

I was getting almost no attention from the audience, even though my performance and songs were good.

The place had simply become busy.

People were talking.

There was activity everywhere.

Almost nobody seemed to be paying much attention.

Not only that, most of the musicians had stepped outside for a cigarette break or something.

That didn’t feel great But Maybe that’s just the culture of this place.

After my second song, the host asked,

“Hey, can you keep it to two songs?”

I hesitated.

He immediately added,

“Or do you have a short one?”

As luck would have it, my planned third song is probably one of my strongest.

So I played it.

This one actually got some attention.

I even noticed Johnny Bravo looking up.

That felt good.

Later, I received compliments from two musicians and one audience member.

That always feels good.

A couple more musicians played.

It was fun.

Then Johnny Bravo got up and played the same two Vince Gill covers I’ve now heard all three times I’ve seen him.

Again…

The talent is exceptional.

He sings and plays them almost flawlessly.

But…

It bothers me.

American Idol worship all over again.

Only this time it’s a real musicians instead of amateur karaoke singers just out having fun.

So let me cut to the chase.

First, I have to admit that I envy his talent and showmanship.

I’m probably going to write another article about envy and comparison, but for now I’ll simply admit it.

Second, I found myself irritated watching Some of the crowd fawn over him afterward.

Not because the praise wasn’t deserved.

It was.

No, I was irritated by my own comparison.

But I was also irritated by how standoffish he is.

I find it Very off-putting.

To me, it seems plastic.

He’s putting on a show.

It comes across as inauthentic.

And yes…

As soon as his set ended, he packed up and left.

He seemed to have little interest in the other performers.

It appears he’s there for himself and his “band.”

He also got into a disagreement with the host.

The host tried to limit him to two songs.

He wouldn’t yield.

He stayed up and played a third cover I didn’t recognize.

Before leaving the stage, he plugged his band’s new album yet again.

And he still didn’t tell people exactly how to spell the band’s name.

Instead, he said something like,

“It’s abbreviated, but you’re all from the Pacific Northwest, so if you can’t figure it out…”

Hmm.

Condescension.

That’s a good way to Win hearts and Minds, right?

Just saying.

Earlier in the day, his “band” had also posted on Facebook that it was “time to get organized” and that people should send him all the local open mics so he could build a calendar.

Again…

That is Great, I am all for someone offering to coordinate and help Out.

But…

“Time to get organized.”

Says who?

Third…

I got into a real funk as the evening wore on.

It stayed with me all the way home and until I went to bed.

I had two beers after my performance and decided I will probably stop making obligatory beer purchases at open mics.

I want to support the venues.

I don’t want—or need—the beer.

It didn’t help.

If anything, it made the funk worse.

All the rest of the evening, I kept asking myself,

“What the Hell am I doing?”

Am I a good songwriter?

Maybe.

Some people seem to genuinely appreciate my songs.

Am I a good singer?

I think so.

But I’m certainly no Vince Gill.

Am I good on guitar?

I’m pretty basic.

I keep good time.

I use some interesting chord changes.

I throw in a few little riffs.

But I’m nowhere near the guitarist Johnny Bravo is on the two songs I’ve now heard him play three different times.

Am I a good performer?

Maybe.

But I probably have about half the polish he does.

Then something hit me this morning while I was out walking.

What am I really doing?

That is the question.

And when I can answer it fully…

Maybe I can turn what felt like a night of failure out on the Highway to Yeah into a feeling of freedom to live my truth.

We Will see.