Lou loves that show, America’s Got Talent.
Me? Not so much…
I used to chalk up our difference of opinion about AGT to the fact that Lou grew up in the variety show era of The Ed Sullivan Show (Lou loved that show, too, and he does a dead-on impression of Ed introducing some weird puppet named Topo Gigio from “It-ly”), but I don’t think that’s it. It has to be more than that because, for me, there’s just something really yucky about AGT, and whenever it’s time for another season to start, I sort of feel a piece of myself die inside…
Just kidding!
(But not really…)
Suffice it to say, I really don’t enjoy AGT the way Lou does…
Earlier this week, we were at the Sonoma Farmer’s Market for the Tuesday night festivities, and instead of having a tight little band playing like they normally do, they had this odd “open-mic” format where local spoken-word artists, solo singers, and guitar players could perform for all of us. In my very strong opinion, the Farmer’s Market was definitely the wrong set up for this type of thing because instead of being entertaining in any way, every act was just plain bothersome!
Usually, when there’s a normal band, you can engage with the music by watching, dancing, or allowing the songs to become the perfect ambient music for drinking wine, eating from specialty food trucks, and enjoying the easy living of the California Wine Country in the summer. Even if I don’t like the band’s style of music all that much, I can still let it in because it fits into the mix of movement and conversation exactly how it should for an outdoor picnic scene.
But an open mic?
With “beatnik” wannabes?
Reciting painfully twisty poems and rambling raps?
Well…there really was no way to enjoy any of that.
But it actually hurt my heart a little bit when I fully understood what the situation with the music was turning into that night. When I saw the first young artist standing in front of the mic with his earnest looking guitar with the hand-braided strap, and his sensitive haircut, worn-out jeans, and flip flops, I thought, “Oh no…”
He started out by explaining himself to the crowd — which was pointless because everyone (but me) was absolutely oblivious to his presence, yet…he soldiered on anyway. He told us he was going to start off his set with an adapted arrangement of a Beatles song, but I also heard him mention that he added his “own special spin” on the song. As soon as he started playing the first few chords, I could just feel the crowd (along with myself) groaning inside.
It was just enough off from the original version to be irritating…
As the evening wore on, more “artists” took their turn at the mic, and every time there would be a transition into something new, I’d catch myself glancing up at that stage area to see who had just started annoying me now. And when I caught myself having that reaction, again, it made my heart ache a little. The acts got progressively worse, and the crowd started thinning out rather early. It was hot, but the music situation wasn’t helping…
Lou and I were the last ones to leave from our small gathering of buddies, and as I was packing up our gear, that painful feeling came into my heart again. A guy who honestly looked like the stereotype of a hillbilly had just jumped on the mic and was reciting a terrible poem. It was completely lost on the crowd… And at the time, I couldn’t identify the flush of discomfort I was feeling, but it felt like if I let go of it in my mind, I might actually cry.
Weird…right?
But then, last night, I watched a recorded episode of AGT with Lou. There was ABSOLUTELY NOTHING ELSE in our list of recorded shows to watch, and even though I wanted Lou to save AGT to watch on his own, he seemed so excited about a new episode… (So what can you do, right?) But as soon as this awkward performer took the stage, those same weepy, creepy, sad feelings washed in with more clarity, only this time, I was ready to dig in and see what my feelings were all about.
Now… I will admit that AGT has gotten better about not expecting the TV viewing audience to endure the acts that truly miss the mark. Instead, they’ve started to cluster the disappointing acts into an edited montage of clips to speed things along. So you still get to see a quick take of the people who either bomb their audition, or, who basically have no talent — which I’m sure some people out there like to see. And, most of the time, those montages include the judge’s reactions, too — which makes that incredibly irritating part of the show less awful for me, I suppose.
But you still have to watch the most painful acts…
There’s no way around that.
And, it was during one of those really painful performances that I felt this queasy wave of embarrassment…or sadness, really, slip into my awareness again. And suddenly, I realized my reaction to AGT and to the open mic night at the Sonoma Farmer’s Market amounts to this:
A feeling of “self-protection.”
When the acts are incredibly awful, and there’s a panel of judges sitting right there — or in the case of the Farmer’s Market, a captive audience sitting in folding chairs and on picnic blankets fully hating on your music while getting tipsy on wine — it makes me feel incredibly vulnerable inside. And when the performance is particularly bad, I feel my heart rate go up because I can’t stop myself from feeling this anxiety about the fact that the performer has enough guts to believe, but lacks everything else a successful artist needs to be appreciated and praised in this world…
And I think deep down inside, I always worry that I’m just like them…
I think when all you want to do is this one thing, and that one thing needs other people to read it, see it, or hear it in order to make it real, you’re always going to face a panel of judges in this life (including the one that lives inside of you!). And some judges are mean — including ME! I can’t skip over the fact that I can be incredibly critical and harsh about the performances I don’t like, too, and I think that’s the main reason I can’t stand AGT or any of the singing shows that are on these days. I can’t handle the emotions I have when I don’t like a performance, however…I also don’t like the fact that a narrow-minded panel of people in this world ends up being the gatekeepers that decide what’s good art, and what’s not.
Because sometimes, I think the gatekeepers get it wrong…
When it comes to art, there is some freedom in the subjectivity of it, yet somehow, it often feels like the really good kind of art only matters if people like it, buy it, or openly praise it, and for me, this is a strange intersection that always makes me feel so shakey! And as a storyteller, the empathy I can manifest for someone else who is walking into that intersection is very complicated — and kind of overwhelming. So I have to shove those feelings down pretty far to keep them from impacting my art, and that isn’t always easy for me…
Publishing a novel with 15 typos in it was a pretty gutting experience for me back in the day, and the fact is, I’ve spotted quite a few typos on various blog posts I’ve previously posted when I’m loading up new ones on my platform. I’m sure you’ve noticed them, too… (Usually, my typos are doozies!) But when I see my mistakes, I’m not sure if I should fix them, or just leave them alone now. Each post I put up has a minute or two “in the sun,” so to speak, and then they all get archived. So the fact is, each post rides on my home page for a brief time, and then it may never be noticed again…
Strangely, I kind of like the melancholy sentiment I feel about leaving all of my mistakes intact for right now. It feels more honest to me in a way… I guess that’s because my blog is this experiment I’m conducting with myself. I’m basically “practicing being me” in front of a world full of potential judges looking directly down on me and knowing all my faults. I’m setting up my own stage and peddling my own “earnest art” for others to read — or not —and in some small way, I’m just starting to feel good about standing in the mix of my mistakes and keeping my vulnerabilities in check with the hopes I have to one day find my way into the great unknown!
Ugh… Such a sappy statement — but also so true!
But thankfully, I haven’t stepped into a world where four angry X’s are the worst thing that could happen to me as an artist, and, I also don’t live in a world where someone hitting the “golden buzzer” for me is the lucky break I need to know that I’m “good.” Right now, I’m just being me, and I’m putting myself out there in my own little way. I’m not looking for shortcuts to my success, or for my 15-minutes of fame…and, I know I’m going to keep trying — even if no one is reading my blog anymore.
And, I’m doing my very best, and every time I post something, I sense that I’m getting a little better at this. I’m sticking my neck out there just like the contestants on AGT, and in my own way, I’m stepping out from “backstage” and taking a chance on myself every time I put up a new post. I might not be risking as much of myself as an AGT contestant, but it still feels revealing, and I still recognize the tickle of endorphins that run through my veins when I step out and try.
So I can’t fault anyone for wanting to be on AGT — despite the fact that the show makes my skin crawl. And many of the contestants in their sidebar interviews move me a little when they say that being on the show is the biggest thing they’ve ever done in their lives! I do feel a strange kind of pride for them because they’re at least trying…
So even though I really dislike the show, the struggling artist in me is always going to be pulling for the contestants — the good ones, and more importantly, the not-so-awesome ones, too. I want them to have their moment — especially if they’re terrible and they don’t know it. I guess for those contestants, I just want them to be rewarded in some way for their courage — even though that would never be enough of a reward for me.
But just so you know, even though I feel invested in the people, I’ll probably still watch AGT from underneath a blanket…with my eyes and ears closed.
Because that show is just way too painful for me, Baby!
#powertothelitteguy
