Photo courtesy of Will Mayer’17
Whether it be the two feet offered by Java’s plywood or the twenty feet of an outdoor venue, the extra height of a stage has power over the impressionable minds of an audience. We crave stardom, and revel in the glory of a musician on stage with gaping mouths. We give ourselves up to the show in front of us, having full faith in the superhumanity of anyone able to capture our attention through performance. After all, there is no way someone just like us could ever have such command over the language of music. The only proper response is to build up a tower for these idols, so that we might worship from below.
Sometimes that steeple comes crumbling down. The stars that shone the brightest in the room walk the few steps offstage, and the dream shatters. After the house lights come up, their grunge glam starts to look a little bit more like a greasy band t-shirt and a pair of pre-ripped denims. Their voices lose the punch without the hot microphones. The chorus of a few balding thirty year olds belching up Busch Light replaces the jam that struck awe in the minds of a whole barn-load of college students. The once untouchable singer falls off a barstool and reaches up for a helping hand. This afterglow serves as an explicit reminder: these performers are people. They just know how to perform. Yes, the same musicians who shred before you may chance your company while picking out produce at Price Chopper. You might expect the revelation of a performer’s mundanity to break the spell of the show. Have no fear, you cynic, for knowledge is power! There is a blessing hidden behind this awareness. Look past all the smoke and mirrors, and you will find the emotional core compelling them to pour out their souls to a crowd of unfamiliar faces.
There is something to be said for knowing who is really behind the curtain. It might be Elvis on the toilet, it might be Miley without the wig. It could even be one of the Strange Machines putting his bass back in its case. Knowing that real people have to sit behind the piano in their boxers for hours and hours trying to hammer out a melody, and knowing they obsessed over every word to put over that melody; this allows us to relate on that personal level we all crave. The feelings communicated through song have not descended from the clouds, they have effervesced from the human condition, complete with all its flaws.