Innovations: behind the guitar and curtain

I sit in the dressing room backstage. My guitar is in hand, my throat burning a bit from the Fisherman's Friend I just sucked (a throat lozenge, not a sexual innuendo, har har). My voice is fine, but as the seconds tick by, the shakes start to pop into the lower notes. I hum the tune of the song I wrote, "You", and idly pluck the 3/4 melody. A head pops around the door.
"Five minutes."

It's Friday night, and Innovations 2012 is finally upon us. All those long hours of practising, missing dinner, and having to do Journ assignments at 1 in the morning were finally over. The days when this performance was just a Facebook message between Robynne and me are long since over. My stomach grumbles. I should've had something to eat. Then again, it probably would've been pizza, and cheese and vocals don't exactly get along.

I walk out of the dressing room, closely shadowed by the other dancers. I sat on my amp, turn it on. The red light stares at me. The video overhead (a noir-parody by the comedy improv group, NaturallyCaffeinated) plays, and as the seconds pass my heart beats faster and faster. Soon, the lights drop, the crowd cheers, and it's our turn. The dim blue stage lights come on, and I grab my amp. I walk on stage, amp and guitar in hand. Suddenly, there's a tug as an unseen foot steps on my power cord, and the amp falls dead.
Tragedy. 
I put it down and go back into the stage wing, frantically checking the plugs and wiring, but in the blackness of the wing, I can barely see my own hand. Nothing. I turn back on stage, realising that I'm gonna have to do this unplugged...

I walk off stage in anger. I almost dropped my goddamn guitar in that last bit where I walk off, and the crowd actually fucking laughed. I'm beyond mad; I'm absolutely seething. I grab my stuff and go back upstairs. I don't talk to anyone; I don't feel like. Khanyi tries to cheer me up, but I'm beyond even her infectious smile. The final piece comes and goes; I don't really care. Later, when I go downstairs to put my amp away, a couple of the committee members and tech people try to blame me for the projector not working. In effect, they try to blame me for screwing up the show. I didn't say anything: I don't always explode at people, but when I do, I tend to go over-the-top. I decided that it was best to hold my tongue and not have a mushroom-cloud hanging over the second showing.
I grab my case and go to the Guitar Society function.

Guitar has a very soothing effect on me. On that tiny stage, with George on lead, and Luke on bass, and me doing that Spanish flamenco percussive thing I love so much, I'm in my element. Guitar, especially that violently expressive Rodrigo y Gabriella style, is such a great way to vent; I just wish more people had come down to see some of the more hidden musical talents at Rhodes.
The punch helps too.

I go out. I meet a girl called (Jess? Roz? Does it matter?) and I tell her about the show. In my drunken faux-profundity, I tell her that the song is about trying to win someone over and failing in the process, and so on a philosophical level, perhaps performing it badly and failing to win the crowd over is just as good as playing it badly. I remember laughing afterwards: after all, what kind of bullshit is that?
The rest of the night is sort of lost in a blur, but when I wake up the next morning, I'm back in good spirits (even if I feel as sick as dog; "malaria" my mom would call it)
Tonight will be better.
I can feel it.

Photo: Robynne Peatfield
The Philophobia group doing what we do best...

And it was. Yes, my heart still hammered in my chest as hard as ever, and yes, I was as nervous as hell, but all-in-all, I walked on stage and my amp was on. Robynne sang really well, I didn't really screw up royally, and the dancers were amazing. We had pulled it off, as had the rest of the performers: in front of a full house, we had shone and excelled.

Performing in Innovations has been a mixed bag. There were many positives to it: the opportunity to go and stage and play for a much wider, more appreciative crowd than the drunken masses at Pirates Pizza, and a great chance to meet wonderful new people. Hell, I've always loved the drama department: they're a great crowd, so fun-loving and free-spirited. Kin and kind, per se. Also, the leaflet called me a "guitar virtuoso". I would never claim to be one, but it is nice to read a compliment like that...

However, there are many things that were challenging at times. First of all was the fact that the performance  date fell on the same weekend as the USSA rowing regatta, which was heartbreaking. More than that, though, was the atmosphere of the show itself. First of all, we as the performers all got called "divas", which was kind of insulting. I mean, divas tend to stay in fancy dressing rooms and have people at their beck and call: we had neither. Then, there was just this massive blame-game going on all the time. I just feel like maybe if we focused our energies on the right kind of drama (i.e. on stage, and not backstage), things would be a lot smoother. Also, I felt as if a lot of the people in charge were very, very condescending. When we were packing up all the props and stage equipment after the final showing, I felt like the higher-ups thought me to be some kind of moronic child. It's just utterly unnecessary. I try to be understanding and kind to everyone in the show, be they a performer or a stagehand -  is it too much to expect the same treatment in return?

All in all, Innovations 2012 was a fantastic experience. Sure, there were hiccups, but aren't there always? I try not to let a few niggles stand between me and the utterly awesome feeling of being on stage and sharing my art with the audience. The feeling of sitting there, and having the applause crash over you like an intoxicating wave is so magnificent is verges on just plain indescribable. Sometimes I wonder why I even do Journalism at all...