Tough Crowd.



Sometimes, doing stand-up isn't good for your mental health; when a set doesn't go well, it can serve to reinforce all the bad, yet false things you think about yourself. I find this flares up for me the most at open mic nights.

(I'm feeling dramatic, so bear with me.)
 
I like to think of myself as a supportive audience member in these situations. I listen to the other acts, rather than shutting myself off, and above all, I smile when they're on. This isn't a contrivance; it comes through knowing what it's like to perform to a sea of blank faces. It's a small thing, but it can help to egg a performer on. I enjoy listening to people's stories, and watching them do their thing.

Sadly, this often isn't reciprocated.  Tonight was a case in point. I did a five-minute spot at a well-run New Material Night and decided to take the title literally, and use it to road-test three new stories I hadn't told in public until today. It wasn't polished and it wasn't perfect - yet there were points when I looked out to see people I'd subliminally encouraged during their sets looking at me with expressions approaching disdain and disgust.

When it's a bad day, this hurts. Those poorly timed faces become an embodiment of all my disappointment in myself. I start to destroy my performance from the inside, by joining in with their assumed judgement. I reference what's not working, shining a light on how I feel about it, and making things worse. It's amazing how much can go on internally in the space of a five-minute set. 

Ultimately, I need to put things in perspective. Tonight's gig was in a different room to usual, which is a tough space to play. The sound wasn't great, and I wasn't on until towards the end of second half, which was a good ten to twelve acts in (by which point I was tired, and had lost the will to do it). Also, one act in particular whose unhelpful expression I caught sight of had performed exactly the same set as the last time I saw them, completely ignoring the concept of a new material night; one point to me.

Deep down, beneath all the bullshit, I know I can be good. I have experience and form - and I'm trying something different to what I'm used to (performing alone for a kick-off). I just wish some people would show a little consideration. It's a huge blow to the ego when something you've quietly worked on for a couple of days, tinkering away at it, is seemingly hated, and those negative faces are your only feedback. Fuck them; I'll keep going. My Dad put it well in a text:


I'll do my best. Anyway, Paul Daniels seemed to enjoy it.

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