Being nervous going on stage with TesseracT used to be a real thing for me. It’s now a thing of my past and I’d like to share some of the tools and stories that have helped me overcome it.
My most nervous moment
Let me tell you about the time I felt most nervous at a TesseracT show. It was the evening of November 21, 2013, at Koko, London. We were waiting to go on stage supporting Karnivool and for some reason, I was a nervous wreck.
It was a mixture of excitement and nerves. This was our biggest London show up to that point, and that felt like a big deal. In my mind, I couldn’t afford to make a single mistake and this thought spiraled.
It affected my performance. As I hit the stage to the cheers of a sold-out Koko crowd, I tensed up. My usually comfortable double strokes became a pair of rigid single strokes. Flowy technique went out the window and was replaced by a frozen engine attempting to operate at a normal temperature.
My perception of time was different. The music felt slower. It was all so distracting.
Fortunately, science can explain what was happening so I’m able to somewhat rationalize my feelings. Adrenaline was blasting through my system. A perfectly normal reaction by my body to an external threat, sending me into fight or flight and causing my perception of time to slow down to escape the threat.
There was nothing to fear though. There was no threat. I was in a situation I’d designed.
So understanding the science doesn’t negate the feelings in the moment.
It was my inner dialogue that was the issue. The story I was telling myself. The fiction that I believed about the situation I was about to be in was causing me to spiral. “Don’t fuck up!”
the Truth about feeling nervous
I’d be lying if I said I never felt nervous. Naturally, I feel nervous sometimes. This is a normal reaction to a new and challenging situation.
Sometimes before the first show of a tour, I might feel butterflies in my stomach. However, I’m able to perceive this as excitement now. I do not spiral. I remind myself:
“I’m about to do what I’m alive to do. It will bring happiness to others and I’m one of the best people in the world at this.”
Sure, the second half of this message is an ego boost. However, in that moment, it helps to firmly fasten the cloak of confidence around me that I need to walk out on stage.
So regardless of what you think about your current musical abilities, if you’re on stage and you have an audience, then you are by definition better at this than most people on the planet.
I also remind myself: “I‘m rehearsed and experienced. I am good at this.”
Taking ownership of my inner dialogue – the story to myself has been a game-changer.
Acceptance and preparation
There’s a relief that comes with accepting that all you have is right now. You can’t control the future or change the past. But you can give yourself a better chance of success in the future by taking positive action in the present.
So this is where I try to spend my time. That includes writing this blog.
I ensure that before a show, tour, or studio session, I’m fully rehearsed. This way, I’ll be able to cope with the countless distractions I’ll encounter when on stage or tracking in the studio.
How do I know I’m fully rehearsed?
Easy
When I can perform the songs without struggling. I can allow my mind to meander onto other topics while playing.
When I can smile.
These are the main indicators that tell me I’m prepared. And when these are true, I don’t have a valid reason to feel nervous.
Feeling nervous is my body’s way of communicating that I’m not fully prepared. It’s a message that I can use to improve.
When doing this, I take the extra step of reminding myself that I’m only accountable to myself.
Creativity isn’t a competition
I used to get nervous performing in front of other drummers who I felt were better than me. From speaking to my students too, this is a very common thing among musicians. And it makes sense! It’s the easiest of inner stories to believe:
“This amazing musician is watching me. They’re judging my skills. They can see my flaws. I should have practiced more. I’m not good enough. “
Let’s take a moment…
Stories like this one are fictional. You make them up in your head, 100%, and you believe them. Then you punish yourself over and over again, retelling the story, believing it deeply. This then affects your performance and your mental state because you can “never be as good as the highly-skilled observer.”
Nervous nonsense
Let me tell you how I know this is nonsense, and how to overcome it.
Many, many moons ago, I was on stage at one of the European festivals with TesseracT (I don’t recall which one). We didn’t have a lot of time to set up and I was using a rental kit. Not being able to use my DW kit adds a fair amount of setup time, and depending on the condition of the kit, a fair amount of stress to my day – something that I now have tactics to manage.
In the rush, I forgot to tape down the kick drum to prevent it from slipping. So, when we begin playing Concealing Fate Pt:2, the kick drum starts to move away from me, pulling my left kick pedal sideways with it.
Stressed out, I attempt to pull the kick drum back into position whenever I have a split second to do so.
Nothing works so I get angry and then nervous about how this will affect the remainder of the set.
To add insult to injury, I look over my shoulder to see the Animals as Leaders guys, and a handful of other highly-skilled musical peers watching our set from side-of-stage.
Nervous level 2.0
“These guys know I’m messing up… they’re better musicians than me… they’re judging me… Aaaaaaa…”
I tense up. My playing becomes rigid. Everything becomes more difficult. Subsequently, I can’t focus on anything other than fighting these feelings.
A couple of tricky drum fills are coming up in Dystopia – and I completely forget how to play them. The moment for the fill arrives and I simply freeze, allowing the music to keep flowing with me just sat there confused.
This compounded my nervousness. My feelings of inadequacy. My lack of confidence.
“That was such a huge mistake. Everyone noticed. I’ve let the band down.”
What actually happened…
Acle Kahney (TesseracT Guitarist) turns around and throws me a smile, as he always does when I make a mistake. Then moves on with the show.
The show finishes and I hop down from the drum riser, sulking internally. I stroll over to Javier Reyes, guitarist for Animals as Leaders, and plant my sweaty forehead on his raised hand that he’d held up to greet me. I don’t think he appreciated that too much (sorry mate!!).
Our peers proceeded to tell us how amazing the show was. These people who I’d convinced myself were judging me didn’t have a single comment on any my several monumental mistakes. They were glowing and happy and enjoyed the show. They were happy to be hanging out with us, and us with them.
Later that day, when we were back in the van, I spotted an Instagram story of the exact moment in Dystopia where I’d frozen. I watched it a few times.
The moment was fleeting. The mistake was hardly noticeable within the context of the mix. The energy of the show didn’t stop. The flow wasn’t interrupted. The audience continued to sing along, bounce, and have fun.
This huge moment which in my mind lasted a long time was only a blip in time. It was over almost as soon as it began. It certainly didn’t result in any noticeable external negativity.
The same goes for my feeling of dread during Concealing Fate Pt:2 as the kick drum slid away from me. None of that is perceivable in the video from the audience. It sounded and looked fine!
I’ve since tried and failed to find this video.
What nervousness taught me
I learned a valuable lesson from this experience. It helped me manage my nerves.
I’ve since learned to dismiss my inner dialogue when needed, by consciously asking better questions and repeating affirming mantras.
Despite having developed strategies to manage it, naturally, I still feel nervous when presented with a new challenge.
For example, the idea of preparing and hosting a drum clinic makes me feel quite nervous. I can spin a story about how I’m an imposter, how I don’t know what I’m doing. How the audience and other clinicians will judge me. How I’ll embarrass myself in front of the companies I work with.
Or, I can question all of that.
Is it true? No.
Do I have a plan to prepare fully and present something helpful and insightful? Yes!
Another example of a time when nervousness arises is when speaking with someone new. Particularly someone who I perceive to be successful or somehow ahead of me.
However, what I’ve realized is that feeling nervous is generally a signal that I have something to learn. It’s a warning to spend time in preparation.
What I don’t allow myself to do, however, is allow nervousness to take over. Instead, I’ve gotten good at catching myself and questioning the stories I automatically believe when nervousness presents itself.
So, the next time you feel nervous before heading up on stage, listen to the stories that you’re constructing. Witness and then question them. Do you know them to be 100% true? Are the outcomes from these stories guaranteed? Or instead, is this feeling simply a sign of greener grass on the other side of the thing you’re about to do…
For more lessons like this, check out my Blog.
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