Not What I Was Expecting. And Slightly Awkward.
When I started playing the bass at the age of 13, I loved music and would spend hours practising. When I wasn’t practising I was listening to music and imagining myself on some big stage in front of thousands of people, like I presume a lot of young musicians do. As I progressed with studying and maybe became too much of a musical snob, I moved away from the desire to play for massive audiences and preferred instead the idea of performing in smaller clubs and bars, where people might listen and appreciate more the brilliance of what I believed I was playing. Also around this time whilst at University, I had a bad experience performing with a gospel band in a large venue in Liverpool. It was a massive room with tiered seating. There were some big American gospel stars headlining who I weren’t familiar with but they’d obviously drawn a large crowd here. I started getting more and more nervous the closer it got to our set. Since the event was in the afternoon and I was driving, I couldn’t have a drink to try to calm down so I just had to get on with it. I’m sure it didn’t come across as bad as it felt but it turned into a real ordeal at the time. I spent the set sweating and panicking, my hands visibly shaking. Playing became difficult and I felt I might pass out. This was one of the first anxiety/panic attacks I had on stage and I still get them now and again for seemingly no reason. After this experience I really didn’t care much for the idea of working in larger venues. I played a few gigs at Manchester Academy but always made sure I was not driving and was at least slightly tipsy. Then they were really enjoyable. I regularly play today to around 1500 people on the ships I work on. But the difference is that they’re not all focused on you. They’re scattered around the room talking and drinking and in the case of the Finns, passing out.
Even though the idea made me feel very uncomfortable, I would never have turned down the opportunity to play on a big stage again as I was always a bit curious as to how it would be. Plus I’m a musical whore and so if it’s a gig for money, I’ll more than likely just do it. I did however unintentionally avoid playing before any large crowds for 12 years, until last month when I got a WhatsApp late at night, asking if I could stand in on a fireworks gig the next day. For some reason I had the impression that we’d be playing in some tent somewhere off to one side and it would be like the average bar gig. The picture above is unfortunately the only one I took from the event, but it should at least show how wrong I was. Obviously I was a little bit panicked at this stage as we heard that 5000 people had bought tickets. I had also driven there and so couldn’t just get smashed and let it all be a wondrous blur. I was thinking why didn’t I just say no to this? I could have been sat at home in the warmth. Instead I was about to sound check in a cold and ridiculously windy field, about to endure my second worst nightmare scenario. The first being a root canal procedure, obviously. That sounds utterly abysmal.
After sound check, I decided to plan how I would get through the evening. As I was driving, I could only have one pint and so it had to be used wisely. I decided I’d do the first set sober. People would still be arriving and so the crowd would be small and not very intimidating. Plus there were lots of other things going on like a haunted house and some typical funfair attractions that would draw the attention early on. Then I’d simply down a beer just before the second set and feel happy and relaxed. We were due to finish playing just before the firework display started. Our stage was right in front of where the first fireworks were going to be set off that’s when I thought everyone would be looking our way.
When the first set started, it was pretty much as I had hoped for. Lots of people turning up and going straight for the burger stands and beer tent as well as the other attractions. By the time we played the last song, the main group of punters were still about 100 yards away. I was actually feeling a little disappointed by the end of it. Were we that shite? I didn’t think so but either way I didn’t dwell on it as it was beer time. During this break the field really began to fill up fast. The wind had also really got up and it was freezing. Whether or not my fingers would work was a bigger concern than a panic attack on stage right now. As we played our way through the first song, the now massive audience started to take more notice and gradually moved forward. It extended all the way to the back of the field. I’m not sure whether it was because of that one beer but to my surprise, everything felt fine! In fact it was quite enjoyable. I don’t know what it was but it somehow felt similar to playing to no one. There were so many faces that it didn’t seem to feel personal enough to worry or care so much. I felt no sense of anxiety and at no point was I looking forward to the last song being called. I would have been happy to carry on for a few more if it wasn’t for the intense cold that I stupidly hadn’t dressed for.
After we played our last song we got as nice of a cheer as you could hope for from an audience that hasn’t come specifically to see you, or live music for that matter. Then we got to enjoy the fireworks before packing down and heading home. Or at least that was how it was supposed to go.
I don’t know what the price of the tickets were exactly but they were not cheap. People were obviously prepared to pay though as this event was advertised as a 360 firework display. Basically what is supposed to happen is that 5000 people are caged into a field to enjoy burgers, beer, and amusements before standing to watch a band that they’re not too interested in, whilst surviving the sub-zero wind chill. All would be worth it though for the amazing firework display happening on all four sides of the containment pen. We first realised that there was a problem when 30 minutes after our last song the fireworks hadn’t started. The organisers were running around looking worried. I overheard one saying that the 360 part of the show wasn’t going to work. Another one suggested putting the band back on. This was not seen as an option, as according to the head organiser: “If we send the boys back out there, they’ll get mobbed.” Our welfare wasn’t a concern for too long though and ten minutes later we were being sent back out in front of the now agitated crowd to play an extra 15 minutes. This set felt pretty awkward and slightly surreal. We now had the full attention of 5000 people who really didn’t want to be watching us. I guess they knew it wasn’t our fault and were surely not having any negative feelings towards us specifically. But this was as far as was possible to how my teenage self had imagined finally playing to a field full of people. I was still not feeling any anxiety at this point though, which was a bonus. A slight tinge of embarrassment and awkwardness for sure but nothing too severe.
Finally the fireworks started and they were pretty good to begin with. But they were worryingly all coming from the one side, behind our stage. When was the 360 part happening? They were set off in time to music like nearly all of them are these days. After about five minutes though the fireworks stopped but the music kept going. Then the music stopped and someone over a mic started an apology. I was waiting for the riot to start but weirdly the disgruntled audience seemed to buy the official excuse that the strong winds had prevented the 360 element of the show as it would be too dangerous. I say weirdly as the wind was blowing in such a direction as to make to the only fireworks that did go off that night fly over the crowd, raining their debris and burning embers down near the front row. We were then sent back on to play the disappointed crowd out. This has to be a sight I’ll probably never see again. The backs of thousands of people walking away from you whilst playing Purple Rain. It was both sad and hilarious to me at the same time. All that was left to do after was pack down the gear whilst one of the organisers started sobbing and the others started the playing the blame game.
Despite the disaster of the failed pyrotechnics, the evening was a personal success for me. I got a free burger and beer and finally got to realise my boyhood dream. Sort of. Most importantly though it was nothing like the horrible, panicky disaster I had imagined all these years. Any professional musicians that play on the big stage regularly will maybe think I’m a real wimp or just weird for maybe making a big thing out of this. But I thought I’d share it in case there is anyone out there who is less experienced and is perhaps worried about an impending first show in front of thousands. Maybe my experience will help calm the nerves so you don’t need to turn to beer, which is ok now and again I suppose. Not so much if it turns into a habit.
All in all, it was a nice experience and not something I should have been bothered about so much for so long. Hopefully I get to do it again sometime. Though ideally in front of an audience that’s there to listen to my brilliance next time ;)
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