"Seeing" a Concert
File under D for Duck Walk | 5
It is difficult to separate the merit of a concert from the visuals it presents (I’m thinking everything from Justin Timberlake’s floating glass stage to Anderson .Paak’s gleaming half-moon smile). There are shows I’ve seen where my remembrance of them continues to be dictated by the visual, for better or for worse. Prince doing the splits with microphone stand in-hand—exciting. Road-weary band in t-shirts and jeans on tour stop number 67—not so exciting.
Many of us attend concerts and listen with an organ that has no known acoustic range: our eyes. Why wouldn’t we. The action is built into the language we use surrounding the ceremony—“I’m going to see a show.”
Regarding my own performance, various audience members have told me over the years that when I close my eyes, they feel I weaken their connection towards the music—a simple example of a concert visual but a no less powerful one.
Whether it’s set decor, lighting design, Chuck Berry’s “duck walk,” Elvis’ gyrating hips, or even a detectable connection, such as a smile or a wink, between the musicians sharing the stage, our eyes can elevate the music for our ears.
But it doesn’t always serve us to listen with our eyes.
Some people may look at that music as hostile because the way jazz musicians are…people be looking at them and sometimes they’re going through various gyrations. You’re just creating to the fullest of your thing. I mean you’re in a state of being where you’re really exhilarated. But when you’re really involved in the music, you’re not aware of the audience or self or whatever because everything is clicking as a harmonious group. - Joe Brazil, jazz saxophonist and educator
This quote comes from the liner notes of the newly released, John Coltrane’s A Love Supreme, Live in Seattle.” It reminded me of the way I’ve felt at certain jazz shows, where the “hostile” visual impressions of the show dictated my enjoyment of them.
Reading this was a good reminder to practice the life skill so eloquently defined by American author George Saunders as “adjusting the dial”—a practice that asks you, moment by moment, to reconsider everything from the critical opinion you’ve formed of a work colleague, to your easy acceptance of the idea that your new iPhone puts you in league with all those who “Think Different.”
As a performer, the hypocrisy is one I should’ve always understood, for in doing the thing audiences have told me makes for a weaker show (closing my eyes), I have always believed it to enable a greater connection to the music. By cutting off the distraction of my own visual cues—the woman at the corner table with the neutral expression I immediately interpret as bored and indifferent—I get to go deeper, and hopefully, come back with a greater offering.
In the instance of how music performance correlates positively or negatively to visual, you could argue that “adjusting the dial” has minimal consequences—“Everyone on stage looks angry. I don’t think I’ll go to another one of their shows in the future.” But even these judgements without consideration can bury treasure that might have otherwise made us rich.
❤️ dW