Stage Fright, your friendly Monster
While this blog is heavy on the music-theme for all our musicians out there, it can be applied to any moments in life that stage fright can rear it’s not so pretty head!
Guest Blogger Alison Thom from Howlite shares a thing or two she’s learnt about taming that friendly monster!
/Stage Fright/ Definition
Stage Fright; nervousness before or during an appearance before an audience.
In year 10, I won an Art Award.
I’ll be honest, I have no idea what the award actually entailed, or what I did with the certificate. Because as I got up to receive the award, my foot got hooked on Jamie Stinson’s school bag and I face-planted in front of the entire year level. My only remaining memory of that day is of my soul desperately trying to leave my body, my body desperately trying to leave the room, and Miss Treadwell desperately trying to waddle over and help me up. None of these attempts were successful, and I lay squirming like an inverted turtle for several agonising minutes, awaiting the rapture.
The moment still replays in my head a few times a year - my friends like to remind me about it every now and then, with the cringe-inducing catch-phrase, “Hey! Remember Alison’s stack?” It became the stuff of legends. In a puberty brimming with highly mortifying experiences, it was The Most Mortifying. But, for better or worse, I lived. Potentially the worst on-stage/public embarrassment possibility of my high school life had happened, and I was alive. I wasn’t cured of my stage fright, but my relationship towards it changed from that day.
Prior to the incident henceforth referred to as AwardGate, stage fright had been a lifelong companion of mine, a demon who had escaped the school auditorium stage and followed me home to torment me. Nowhere was safe. During the classroom roll call I sat, repeating my name in my head and memorising how many students were before me, counting down until I had to speak because HOW EMBARRASSING IF I GOT MY OWN NAME WRONG. Anytime a question was asked, I stared intently into my pencil case and tried to sink down into my seat, or if possible, through the floor BECAUSE HOW EMBARRASSING IF I WAS WRONG. Ordering food, PE class, public speaking, phone calls and meeting new people all became vehicles through which my stage fright would manifest, reminding me that if I messed up I would LITERALLY DIE OF EMBARRASSMENT.
But then came AwardGate, and I didn’t die. A tiny switch in my head flicked, and I realised that it was okay to feel embarrassment, to feel this thing I had been hiding from my whole life. It was okay to fail.
Fast forward a decade. I have a career in music, and I perform regularly. The rational part of me is consistently baffled by this decision, as are most people who meet me. Nothing about me screams, “EXTROVERT!” But as anyone who harbours the secret dream to be on-stage knows, at a certain point the desire outweighs the fear. The fear never really goes away, but it becomes something you’re prepared to contend with. And contend with it I absolutely have.
I’ve forgotten my lyrics on stage. Forgotten how to play my instrument. Had too much to drink and forgotten how to do pretty much anything except giggle hysterically. I’ve unplugged my guitar by accident, made inappropriate and terrible dad jokes, stopped songs halfway through, and played entire songs out of tune because I was so desperate to get offstage that I didn’t stop to tune beforehand. I once wrote lyrics to an entire song up my arm so I could read from it in case I forgot. There is nothing quite like the burning sensation of deep shame and desire to leave your current situation, your face on fire, eyes downcast, your inner monologue a tiny chorus of You’s screaming in abject horror, like something out of Being John Malchovich.
What useful things can I tell you about stage fright? I feel like you don’t need me to explain it for you. If you have it, you know. It’s your body’s fight or flight response in action, and in a world where we’re no longer in danger of getting walloped by a mammoth there is nothing more flighty/fighty inducing than the thought of standing up in front of a bunch of our peers or total strangers, baring our souls, and being judged for it. It’s not as terminal as mammoth death, but the sensation of embarrassment and shame is arguably as painful.
So here is what I’ve learned:
1. Nobody cares
This one stings a bit at first, but it is the most liberating thing you will ever realise. At our five year high school reunion, there were people who didn’t even remember me. Say what? I’m the girl who fell over in front of the entire year level, how dare you forget me! But that’s the thing. Everyone is so wrapped up inside their head reliving their own embarrassing moment that they literally do not care about you. Armed with this knowledge, you can do anything you want.
2. You are not your fear
A really helpful tactic I use is to seperate your fear as a seperate entity to you. Imagine him. Give him a face, a body, a little bowtie. If you like to draw, give it a crack. Is he fuzzy? Bald? Shiny? My guy looks like Animal from The Muppets. The point is, even though he makes your life difficult, he’s is just trying to help you. He’s your little Fear Monster, and he thinks he’s protecting you, bless him. You’ve got to give him space to exist in your head, but don’t let him take over. I try to take his advice the same way I take my mum’s. Yes, I’ve got a coat. Yes, I know my tax is due soon, Yes I know we’re going onstage, I got it. Yes. Yep. Uh-huh. Yep. Okay I gotta go love you bye!
3. Put it in perspective
People who say, “what’s the worst thing that can happen?” are insanely unhelpful when you’re in panic mode. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! I could knock my drink off the amp and short the electricity and set the stage on fire. I could stand on the hem of my pants and rip them off, exposing my Bridget Jones undies. I could accidentally tap into my subconscious and blurt out into the microphone that I have a weird crush on John Oliver. This kind of thinking is NOT HELPFUL. Reframe your thoughts to be kinder to you. “Is that REALLY likely to happen?” “Am I catastrophising/projecting?” “What would I say to someone else in my position?” “Will people care in 10 years?” The most important thing any therapist ever told me was, “Just because you think it, doesn’t mean it’s true.” Our little Fear Monster is trying to use all his tactics to get us out of this situation, including blatant lies. You are not going to die if you get onstage. He just wants you to think that so he can go home, eat chips and watch Netflix.
4. Practice your set
The boring one. Honestly, knowing what you’re doing is so much of the battle. Things that you are actively worrying about become muscle memory, and you can focus on things like breathing, looking at the audience, and at some arbitrary point in the future MAYBE EVEN ENJOYING YOURSELF??
5. Put yourself out there
Sign up for open mic nights, book your gigs, play for your parents, your partner, your friends. Push yourself. It gets easier. You discover ways to cope - what do you do when there’s silence? Tell a joke! Talk about yourself! Laugh at how awkward you are! it’s okay. every single person would do the same thing in your position. Most of them are just insanely glad they’re not up there in your position. Exposure therapy is excruciating but I can say it is honestly the best way to overcome Stage Fright, because it normalises the situation. Instead of being this terrifying thing that happens very rarely, your Fear Monster starts to become like, ‘oh, we’re here again. That’s cool. We did this last week, I remember this. All g, homie. Do ya thang. Is your fly zipped up?’
6. Go easy on the beer
There is a magical amount of alcohol to consume before a gig, and that is one unit. More, and you get sleepy/stupid/forgetful, less, and you are a jittery nervous wreck. Do not mess with the algorithm. Your confidence might increase, but your ability to play will not. I have done studies on this, trust me. Drink after.
7. Breathe
I mean, arguably a valid tip for life in general. Breathe in for 6 counts, hold for 2, out for 6. Adele gets stage fright. ADELE. It’s normal. You’re all good buddy. You got this.
See you on stage.
If you want to chat about your music career or have any questions you need answered, shout out and we can have a confidential chat.
Mellanie Shaylor
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