All the gear. No idea.

I'm on my third guitar. The first cost £120 including a carrying bag. It travelled back and forth to Munich with me as hand luggage in the days when airlines were much more flexible about such matters. I bought it to learn as an alternative to beer drinking, which was the chief leisure activity of the engineer abroad. Indeed, it was clutching this guitar when I met Robert Plant on the airport shuttle bus. He was playing at The Olympic Park Stadium with Jimmy Page. "Where are you playing?" He asked me. When I told him that I was learning, and playing only in my hotel room he suggested that I might have left it a bit late. The guitar died when it fell on its face and snapped the top of the neck.

While in Munich I managed to write my first song. I was at the end of over two years travelling and had captured the experience in a delightful song called 'The L30 Blues'; named in honour of the Land-Rover project I was working on. This was to be my first public performance and I sang it at my leaving presentation as an alternative to making a speech. It went down quite well.

The second guitar I still own. The desire to play was still quite strong. It cost double the first, including a hard case. It was an electro-acoustic and I bought it with the intention of amplifying it at some point. With it being slightly smaller around the neck, and a bit shorter in length, I found I could reach some of the chords that proved impossible on the old one. I wanted to learn Beatles songs, but George Harrison's hand span must have been extraordinary.

This year I got my third guitar. It was a present from Shirley. It is a Martin, it sounds fabulous and my enthusiasm for playing would be astronomical but for one thing; my inadequacy.Owning a Martin, for me, is a bit like feeding caviar to a mongrel; owning an Aston Martin without having a driving licence.

So I have decided that without some help I will never be worthy of this lovely guitar and had my first proper lesson. I now understand, at least conceptually, how chords work and what this means over the full length of the fret board; and given opportunity to scratch my head and pick the wrong notes to play simple tunes with six notes on the first two strings. This boy does deserve good food, but I think it is going to be a while before I am fed.

Can you pat your head and rub your tummy?

The harmonica, a recent addition, has had a little bit of practice, and even appeared once in public. The intention has always been to accompany my guitar. When the mounting device arrived a week ago I excitedly clamped the harp in and grabbed my guitar. That was the point I realised how incredibly difficult it is to play two instruments at the same time.

There is a growing amount of evidence that teaching music to children has hidden benefits. Not only do they get their hands on some great instruments before developing the self-consciousness that prevents trial and error and sounding terrible (for a while), it also appears that the neural development associated with music assists in a whole range of other learning and may also have a part to play in keeping some forms of dementia at bay.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e7qQ6_RV4VQ

I have a greater respect for those that can and do accompany themselves. I have a feeling that it will be a little while before my debut performance, and I might draw the line at just the two.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nDLrpG0DCqI

I can just about rub my tummy and pat my head at the same time, but don't speak to me while I'm doing it.

Gripped by fear.

The harmonica is a new venture for me. Not satisfied with not being able to play guitar particularly well, I have decided that what I need, is to add harmonica to my repertoir. I will now have to learn those Dylan classics.

 

The band MDF have regularly played 'Leaving of Liverpool' and it is one of the few that they do in the key of 'C'. In anticipation of an opportunity to join in, I have been practicing that tune quite a bit. Unfortunately, the number on offer in C this evening was 'Fields of Athenry'. It is a familiar and much loved song, but unpracticed. My first instinct was to say no thank you. What I actually said was 'I don't really know that one.' There was a slight pause before I added, 'but I'll give it a go'.

The decision made, it was time to take my place along with the band. What enabled me to 'have a go' was being comfortable with the Kilsby audience, and friend of the band. No matter how bad it went, I would survive.

I got all the right notes (mostly) but I was definitely quieter than I might have been.

After more than ten years working as a therapist, I have found that the only way to overcome performance limiting anxiety is to perform. The 'stage nerves' may never leave you, but they can be managed to the extent that performances can be enjoyed.

The basic purpose of anxiety is to protect the sufferer from danger. Physiologically this often manifests itself as many of the following symptoms:

Increased heart rate and respiration, providing extra oxygen for the muscles.
Increase in muscular tension resulting in an increase of body temperature and associated perspiration.

Singers may experience a tightening of throat muscles and vocal chords. Theory suggests that this constriction serves the protective process of preventing the person from doing the thing that they are afraid of. On my first public guitar performance I was amazed at the stiffness of my hands. The practicing at home seemed to have had little benefit. What was also interesting was the speed of my playing once I'd got started. I got faster and faster in my desire to leave the spot as quickly as possible.

There are many strategies performers can use to help them deliver a more accomplished set.
Using rehearsal imagery can reduce anxiety significantly. If you imagine performing well rather than worrying about the 'what ifs' your mindset is focussed more on the thing you want rather than the thing you don't. Regular mental rehearsal creates an expectation of success, boosting confidence and encouraging a more relaxed performance.

Breathing techniques are often used to combat panic attacks can encourage a more calm approach. In those moments before beginning it is not unusual to hold your breath. This isn't helpful. Developing a habit of a few moments of deliberate breathing, with a slightly longer outbreath than normal increases carbon dioxide levels in the blood stream and encourages parasympathetic nervous system activity, both promote relaxation.

While some of us have more tuneful voices than others, we can all benefit from learning some technique. Posture, breathing and learning how to enunciate can transform our performance and add to our confidence.

Finally, let's not forget rehearsal, preparation and practice; there is no substitute for doing it.

The not so good strategies include alcohol. A bit Dutch courage might not sound like a bad idea, but if it has inhibited the anxiety, what might it have done to the ability?
Another common stategy is one of denial (It'll be alright on the night). This tends to delay the onset of anxiety until the last minute. If you are lucky, once you get playing you'll be fine.

Perhaps the most surprising of the self-limiting strategies is perfectionism. This is counter intuitive, but the desire to do better is not the same as the demand to be perfect. At the back of your mind lurks the realisation that perfection is unattainable. Ironically, the desire for perfection can be one of the most effective triggers for anxiety.

Have fun and enjoy yourselves.

Sultans of swing?

Dire Straits might have been singing about us.

Check out Guitar George

Arriving early, at The George Hotel, Kilsby, to help with any setting up, the guest band were already installed and warming up. There's no question that there is something special about acoustic only nights. The spontaneity of a free floor where contributors can pop up and disappear with ease, but a good PA adds a depth as well as volume.


A couple of our regulars have been absent on recent evenings; the excuse being bookings for gigs. There is no question that open mic nights have helped sharpen their performing saws. (Performing saws, now there's an act.) I know that they'll be dropping in when time allows, to inspire and delight.



One of the things I love about The George nights at Kilsby is the encouragement and support for all of the performers. I still rank myself pretty low in the performance stakes, and there is no modesty about it, the encouragement of my friends and the inspiration given by the very capable artists makes getting the guitar out for practice a real pleasure. Recent guests have included Hilary Wilson and John Wright, who visited us in April, and George McCranor, (Check out Guitar George) who came to July's evening, both acts featured at Coventry's Godiva Festival, and let's not forget our own Crick Boat Show headline acts (well almost) Bob Deluce and Dangerous Derrick Meyer.

The audience makes all the difference.

It was the first Friday in April and I had delayed setting off on my holiday boat trip to compare my first evening of The Kilsby Open Music Night, at The George Hotel, after taking the reins from Paddy Wex. That night we were visited unexpectedly by a singles/social club that had come to dine in the restaurant. They hadn’t known about the open music night, but curious, they filed into the room after they had finished their meals. It was was packed, and the presence of all of these strangers added a frisson to the night. All of the performers rose to the occasion. 

For a while to come, all evenings will be measured against this. The subsequent months could only be an anti-climax. As it was, the contrast in May couldn’t have been more striking. The only audience being the performers themselves, and a couple of the regulars were no where to be seen. This might have something to do with the bank holiday weekend. While this was disappointing in terms of the excitement, it meant that those of us that did play had an opportunity to contribute more songs, practice some that might have been a bit shaky, and the relaxed atmosphere allowed  for some joining in.

Paddy sings about a night out with some birds.

Is that your guitar?

"Is that your guitar?" I asked, as the narrowboat began to move out of the lock. The steerer nodded."What do you play?"
"A bit of blues." He said, quietly, in that nonchalant and understated way that musicians are wont to use.
"Cool! Where do you play?"
"At home or on the boat. He replied. His tone still warm and friendly.
"It just happens that there is an open music night in Kilsby tomorrow. If you'd like to go, I can get you a lift."

There was a slightly uncomfortable pause and then came the rejection. "No I don't think so. I don't perform in public."

I know that there are musicians that are very hostile towards open mic nights, seeing them as ways in which pubs can provide entertainment at no cost to them, but like my boat driving friend, I had never performed in public before and it was an open mic night that allowed me to murder Bob Dillon's Don't think Twice, and I was applauded me for my effort.





It doesn't matter how many times you practice in your bedroom, or in front of your partner, playing to an audience is something else. Many accomplished performers have used the open mic nights as development venues, allowing them to try new material or just hone their patter skills.

The author sings an original composition about mouldy brown bread and cheese. The audience don't look to impressed.

Over one year on and I've played at a few venues, sometimes with accompaniment, sometimes alone, sometimes through a pa, sometimes unplugged. The quality of performances have varied from pretty good to dire, but there is always something to learn, and always something to be enjoyed.