It was bound to happen.
When I was a rookie open mic performer, I had a terrible habit of getting on stage, blasting through three songs back-to-back, and then being disappointed with the resultant golf-claps from a disinterested audience. At first, I convinced myself that I really had to have a great opening line/stanza to a song to get people interested, and this approach earned me a little more attention from my crowds... but not all that much. It took a close friend to remind me that what the performers I admired most did was tell stories -- get vulnerable -- at the mic, and that I needed to do the same if I wanted people to maintain interest in a song from beginning to end. Besides the obvious, another benefit to this approach was that I gained the ability to set up a line that's halfway into a song with a good introduction; a strong opening line no longer had to carry the remaining 2 or 3 minutes.
Having learned my lesson, I've been introducing Sister Mary Catherine with a disclaimer, a preemptive apology, and an explanation that the titular character was my attempt to create my own personal, unattainable ideal, and definitely not a metaphor carrying some greater message. I always worried that someone would be put off by the story, and I've had my share of audience members jokingly tell me that I'm going to hell for that song, but always in an I'll-be-right-there-with-you-for-enjoying-it sort of way. Over time, I've added color to the story with details about my own rather unorthodox religious upbringing -- a major reason why the character is who she is -- and how, as an adult, I felt lucky to have stumbled upon people who shared my experience. Focused on the possibility of someone taking umbrage with the character I created, I didn't see it coming when, after performing Sister Mary Catherine at the most excellent Brothers K open mic last month, I was approached by a very nice, older man who politely expressed what can only be described as a cocktail of pity and disgust at the introduction itself.
Was it simply my particular point on the secular/nonsecular spectrum? Was it because I made light of a topic that is so serious to so many? Was the juxtaposition with the previous song simply too much? Should I have just stuck to reminiscing about the Hamptons scene in Annie Hall? I'll probably never know. My critic offered to send me a book that would change my entire outlook on the question of religion, and followed through the very next weekend. I suspect its effect was not the intended one, but I must thank Leonid K______ for the effort: it led to a wonderful heart-to-heart with my dad that probably wouldn't have happened without Leonid's enzymatic input. Plus, now I have an even better story with which to introduce that song.
Warning: bigger-than-your-typical-YouTube-size video above
Having learned my lesson, I've been introducing Sister Mary Catherine with a disclaimer, a preemptive apology, and an explanation that the titular character was my attempt to create my own personal, unattainable ideal, and definitely not a metaphor carrying some greater message. I always worried that someone would be put off by the story, and I've had my share of audience members jokingly tell me that I'm going to hell for that song, but always in an I'll-be-right-there-with-you-for-enjoying-it sort of way. Over time, I've added color to the story with details about my own rather unorthodox religious upbringing -- a major reason why the character is who she is -- and how, as an adult, I felt lucky to have stumbled upon people who shared my experience. Focused on the possibility of someone taking umbrage with the character I created, I didn't see it coming when, after performing Sister Mary Catherine at the most excellent Brothers K open mic last month, I was approached by a very nice, older man who politely expressed what can only be described as a cocktail of pity and disgust at the introduction itself.
Was it simply my particular point on the secular/nonsecular spectrum? Was it because I made light of a topic that is so serious to so many? Was the juxtaposition with the previous song simply too much? Should I have just stuck to reminiscing about the Hamptons scene in Annie Hall? I'll probably never know. My critic offered to send me a book that would change my entire outlook on the question of religion, and followed through the very next weekend. I suspect its effect was not the intended one, but I must thank Leonid K______ for the effort: it led to a wonderful heart-to-heart with my dad that probably wouldn't have happened without Leonid's enzymatic input. Plus, now I have an even better story with which to introduce that song.
Warning: bigger-than-your-typical-YouTube-size video above
