dumb things to say to singers
This last weekend my friend Will was working merchandise for me, as he does for several country and roots acts. Will started talking about wearisome comments he hears uttered countless times in record lines. "I first heard you, I'll never forget, in 1979 at the..." for instance, and "My three-year-old can never go to sleep without listening to your...." One of his favorites, he said, was, "When are you coming back here?" I had never thought of that as a strange thing coming from a fan's mouth, but on second thought, it's a little hilarious. Coming back -- say what? I just was here, motherfucker -- five minutes ago, over on that stage!
You don't want to get too bitchy about these things. Remarks like these are only wearisome from the privileged perspective of people that make others happy with music they've made up, and have translated that talent into sufficient success to hear the same well-meaning-but-basically-inane effusions ten thousand times, verbatim or nearly so. Performers are like airport gate agents who have to listen to the raw persiflage of the casual traveler ("Cancelled? You can't just cancel a flight! But I need to...") all day long.
It doesn't seem too much, though, to expect some manners and social common sense, even from emotional people who have just been roiled by divine vibrations. My mom could hardly believe it when, one of the first times she helped me sell records at a show in Kentucky, a guy recited the last ten years of his personal story. He started in his adolescence and ended in graduate school, mentioning along the way his places of residence, college major and minor, romantic attachments, and shifting musical tastes. It took just over five minutes, and it seemed to be the price, imposed on me by him, of ongoing show attendance and CD purchases. "Why did that asshole think any of that was interesting to anyone?" said Mom, heated by outrage to a profane boil. I answered her honestly, "Some people think they know you very well, so it 's only equitable that you know them."
The other week, a friendly, bright fellow who comes to see me play a lot bumped into me and right away started getting carried off by somber reflections on the course my career had taken over the last 15 years. "It's always great to see you play," he said, "but sometimes I feel bad about your audience. You've been at it so many years, you put out all this different music. And sometimes people like it, and your shows are packed. And then there are these other periods, when..." In his pause you could almost hear the ellipsis bumping brokenly off -- Dot! Dot! Dot! "You are making me depressed," I told him. I know he was trying to share some simple fellow feeling for what he took to be my Job-like woes, but it's of no use to me hearing about problems that I'm in no particular position to affect, such as the starving infants of Africa or the turnout at my shows. I actually thought for a second of punching him.
One reason this comment gets on my nerves is that I've made it to others. I'm not sure why, but one has a need to acknowledge the unjust obscurity of others. One time I was doing a show with Marti Jones at the Bottom Line in New York. Boy, I wince just thinking about this. Excited to meet her, I pulled her into a private room backstage and just unloaded. "Your records are so good!" I gushed. "And not only good, but perfectly designed in style and production finesse to make you a worldwide superstar! Why didn't this happen? It bothers me!" She was polite but didn't fabricate a specific answer to my question. What in the world was I thinking?
Another time I heard the Dixie Chicks singing Darrell Scott's song "Long Time Gone" on the radio. It sounded so very nice, and so very much like the New Grass Revival, that I immediately called New Grass's bassist and lead singer, John Cowan, just called him right there from the car in the middle of Pennsylvania. "John!" I breathed. "The Dixie Chicks just sang this song, and it's a hit for them, and it sounds exactly like you guys used to sound!" "Yes," he said. "Well?" I retorted. "How does it strike you when someone takes a sound and style that you invented and struggled to achieve commercial recognition with, and sells millions of records with it, twenty years later?" A short silence ensued. "I guess I don't feel that great about it," he said at last, beaten. What in the world was I thinking?
Let's look at a lesser but more widespread and therefore insidious brand of fan-to-singer rudeness. These are the comments that are meant to show a dash of critical discernment behind the speaker's worshipful praise. Unobjectionable on their face, they are easily understood by their auditor to conceal a dark jab.
What is said: "You had so much energy up there!"
What is understood: "You were sloppy and out-of-tune."
What is said: "That was such great music."
What is understood: "That was so low-energy."
What is said: "You guys were so tight!"
What is understood: "You guys were emotionless!"
What is said: "What was the name of that one song...?"
What is understood: "Only one song you played was good."
What is said: "What kind of pick-up is in your guitar?"
What is understood: "Your music in itself made no particular impression on me."
What is said: "I see a lot of music, and this is one of the best shows I've ever seen!"
What is understood: "This isn't the best show I've ever seen."
Sometimes a fan values one act above all others and he (these people are seldom female) wants you to know, after having seen your wonderful performance, that you are now tied for the rarefied top slot in his private pantheon. This is heartwarming news, right up to the moment when he tells you who the other act is -- invariably it's some disgraceful hack, the most blatant of charlatans, from whom the locations of recording studios, in a just world, would be kept in strict Area-51-level secrecy.
There are also comments that exist in some no-man's-land between embrace and rejection. What is the motivation behind nodding approval and saying, as someone did at my show last Sunday, "Pretty good"? Pretty good? Normally the emotion behind "pretty good" wouldn't well up into words at all. Was he surprised? Had he come expecting to be revolted? And consider this weird one: "Your sideman is actually legit." That one had me puzzled for months. Again, the easiest explanation is that a contrary preconception was upended. But why would someone expect musical illegitimacy of my show, and what is that?
But let's not wallow in the bilious and toxic tidepools of negativity. Let's turn the question around. What is permissible to say to a singer after a show? Almost nothing, it turns out. I observed this after my friend Amy, a crazy-talented actress, said to me after watching me play in Brooklyn one night, "What was the name of that one song you did?"
"Amy!" I said, aghast. "You should know better than that -- you're a professional! That's universal code for 'I only liked one song'!"
"No, it isn't," she insisted. "I just liked that song so much, and I wanted to know the title -- you gave it so much energy!"
"Amy!" Now I was close to tears. Evidently I lack the fortitude of Marti Jones and John Cowan (who has changed phone numbers since the year of the above anecdote and has, curiously, failed to give me his new one). Two velvet jabs and down I go, like Sonny Liston succumbing to Chuck Wepner. Like most singers, I am delicate to a fault. No compliment you can give me is so straightforward that I can't give it some awful twist.
Almost no compliment. Last month, a musician approached me after a show in the north of Sweden. His face was grave and his words were soft. "That was nearly a religious experience," he said. These words, nota bene, I can graciously accept.
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33 comments
I saw you play in Myrtle Beach.I introduced myself to you in the parking lot,and told you that a certain song on "Georgia Hard" was quite possibly the best country song ever written.I was,and remain,serious.What degree of asshole does that make me?
My favorite is when after our set, someone comes up and says "you guys aren't half bad," which of course means that we are half bad.
I've only attempted to speak to Robbie one time and it did not go well. After Revenge came out I went on Robbie's site and bought it. It was taking a really long time to come and after waiting a couple of weeks I contacted Robbie via email and he sent out another copy. I got the second CD and the very next day the original copy arrived in the mail. I gave it too a friend to enjoy. Since I had gotten two but only paid for one I decided that I would give the $20 to Robbie at the next show. It was at the Old Town School. I saw Robbie before the show and explained what had happened. He complimented my honestly and refused the $20. It was a little embarrassing.
Years early the tables were turned when I was standing in line to buy a po' boy sandwich at Fitzgeralds. I heard someone say "that looks really good" and looked up to see Paul Cebar admiring the sandwich. All I could think to say was "it does". After that I just went away and ate the sandwich. It was good.
I hope Robbie enjoys the awkward silences and averted gazes that are sure to follow that rant. I'm gonna stick to my guns and utter whatever inanity pops into my four-beer buzz and banter-addled brain next time I see him play. Maybe something insulting, like "Thanks Robbie--see you next time," which probably translates to "Your'e going to be back here soon playing this sh*t hole dive for short money."
I have seen Robbie numerous times over the past few years in the Chicago area. I have also made it my mission to evangelize on his behalf to family and friends, mostly recently on the genius of 50 Vc. Doberman. I have won him a number of converts, though my wife finds my admiration excessive and strange. Perhaps so.
I never approached him at a show until a couple months ago, after a Monday Hideout show. I avoided this in the past in the interest of not bothering him, and of not sounding like an idiot. So, I strolled up while he was putting gear away stageside, said hello and told him how much I have enjoyed Doberman. He smiled, said thanks, we shook hands and off I went. 15 seconds or so. Afterwards I wondered if I missed an opportunity to chat a bit, perhaps connect on a personal basis, begin a friendship. Now I'm thinking maybe not.
While reading this, I thought for sure there would be a story regarding my thoughtless rants to him after his shows. I find myself rambling alot and not really having anything real intellegent to say to him. Probably because I do enjoy his music so much and when I actually get a chance to talk with him, my brain freezes up. I really feel stupid half the time, and my wife would aggree with that since she gets to hear this embarrassment go down.
"But I could have told you Vincent, this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you." I am tempted to say that one should happily take well-intended fan reaction at face value rather than trying to twist it into a negative. But then I haven't been exposed to decades of post-bar-night inane ramblings which I imagine could get on one's nerves after a while. Human behavior is often objectionable under the best of circumstances, let alone after drinks and in a setting where it's one's big chance to interact and say something Insightful or Meaningful to an artist one looks up to. Imagine the horror of the post-show repartee at a Robert Earl Keen show. PS Re the Swede who passed muster, wasn't he really saying that it wasn't a religious experience?
How could you leave out the drunk fan (not that I know who it is) who tried to walk off with a CD without paying for it?
It's even more difficult over here in the backwaters of Europe, where we don't get too many exciting acts who are actually willing to sign records and talk to fans after their shows.
It would be a big help if you could post an extensive "do and don't" ;)
What to say and what NOT to say when we've stood in line to buy cds and t-shirts.
At least over here we get one shot every 4-5 years to see our favourite acts - and when they finally show up it is a real kick to actually strike up a conversation with the people one has admired for a long time.
What we really wish for on some leven is that you remember us afterwards, and I now understand that it's easier if we say something stupid ;) And like Curt mentions here, it's quite easy to start rambling on and embarassing oneself during these meetings.
I don't know why, but when you played here a few years back I had brought a bunch of cds to sign, and found you hanging around outside the venue after the show - but never got up the nerve to ask... usually I just jump into it, embarass myself and the artist, and get my cds signed - while giving the artist yet another drop in the big cup of "why do I even bother doing this?"...
Next time I might reconsider - and leave whoever comes along alone... or you might just give us a list of topics that are acceptable ?
What is said: "Each note sounded as if you tore it off the instrument and buffed it a bit before hanging it on your never ending melodic line."
What is understood: "Your solo could have been cut in half and I still would have lost my interest half way through"
Having the great fortune to catch a Robbie show and to speak to him before the show in the cold north of Edmonton Canada I had my own story to tell. It is/was a unique story about how my son(a musician like myself)stumbled onto the brilliance of Robbie and before we knew it we had illegally downloaded his entire catalogue and copied it for the other. Then while discussing his genius one day we realized we had ripped off one of the most deserving musicians of not being ripped off. So off went a cheque with a note of apology. I have since purchased through the proper channels his more recent releases. It did make for an interesting conversation with Robbie though. It must have been somewhat memorable to him because I made an appearance in his encore "rap". As a musician myself I can testify to the oddness of some of the post show comments we receive but I try to take them at face value and not read to much into them. Any smart musician will tell you that as soon as you believe the praise heaped upon you you're done for. There will always be someone more talented waiting in the wings to kick your ass. And so it goes.
I say "you changed my life Robbie". Robbie thinks "what the hell was wrong with your life?".
Robbie is very easy to talk to.
Funny as hell.
He's exceptionally alert, though. Turn your brain on first.
Let me get this straight. You want the people who spend their valuable time to see your shows and their limited money to buy your CDs (in other words, the very same people who make it possible for you to pursue this life of relative leisure) to be more circumspect and intelligent when they talk to you after a show? Give me an effin' break.
I have a feeling this is going to be another occasion where you look back and say "What in the world was I thinking?"
I had the misfortune of telling Robbie directly that I thought it 'Revenge' album was "nice", something I regretted immediately. He, of course, seized the opportunity to tell me that he'd heard the record referred to in any number of ways, but never "nice". He was dryly cordial about my gaffe, and had ambled away (I like to think he was muttering to himself, but he probably wasn't) before I could really explain that I had meant it in kind of a dopily admiring way, the way you'd compliment some dude's Camaro if you were 19 years old. "Nice car, man!"
Still, though, it was a dumb choice of words, and I can't believe that's the first thing that leapt out, but there you go. I've always been a little tongue-tied around him anyway but have long wished for a way to explain my stupid choice of words. This was the perfect opportunity, though I admit as I was reading, I was a little scared that Robbie might bring this incident up.
Robbie, if you're reading this, "Revenge" is not a nice record at all. It's totally sweet and awesome.
Robbie Fulks visits Amazon.com:
Fulks returns to his country roots with perhaps his best effort yet (I get it, just MY best ?effort — PERHAPS!! How condescending. Why judge me against only MY prior work? In ?fact, why judge me at all you jerk.) , a wonderful (I can almost FEEL the quotes that were ?around “wonderful” as this guy typed this garbage) 15-song set (I get it — you feel cheated ?because you think there should have been 20 songs like on that Elvis Costello album) that ?summons the spirits of Johnny Paycheck, Roger Miller, Merle Haggard, and other heroes of ?popular country's most recent era of great artistry. (Right — those guys are the REAL ?heroes and I’m just some imitator going around “summoning their spirits.” What, maybe I ?should ditch the guitar and take a fuckin Ouija board on stage. Dick.) There's plenty of ?Fulks' trademark cheeky wit here, (that’s right, I’m a novelty act) with "I'm Gonna Take You ?Home and Make You Like Me," "Goodbye Cruel Girl," and "Countrier Than Thou" among the ?disc's highlights. (Three highlights. THREE. Out of 15 which he already kindly pointed out. ??3 divided by 15 = 20 percent which in my high school was a fuckin F minus. Thanks a lot ??“fan.”) The humor is supplemented (why does it need to be supplemented? It’s either ?funny or it isn’t. Fucker.) by some of Fulks' finest efforts (yes I get an A For Effort just ?like in third grade, right? I “tried really hard.” Like in a freakin girl’s soccer game.) at ?serious songwriting, (I do not believe that I have ever read a more condescending, ?demeaning sentence in my life. Yes finally as I approach 50 and look back at 10 albums — ?yes, finally I will dabble in a bit of “serious songwriting”. I wonder if Steinbeck and Picasso ?had to put up with such demeaning shit. Or Gino Vanelli.) including the title track and ??"Leave it to a Loser." On both, Fulks drops the comfortable guard of irony (yes, up until now ?I have been hiding in my ironic room, safe within my ironic womb, like freakin Art Garfinkle ?or whatever) and places his faith in the strength of the songs (God that was so poetic!! Gag ?me) and his ability to deliver them (again, I just KNOW there were mental quotes around ??“ability”. I KNOW IT). The results are spectacular. (Spectacular? Why not magnificent? ?Stunning? Brilliant? If you don’t like my work, THEN JUST SAY SO.) If country radio ?sounded anything like this album, the world would be a much, much better place. (World? ?What about the universe? Why is this guy being so fuckin dismissive? I cannot stand these so-?called “fans.” I just want to go off and be by myself. I like being left alone. Hey …)?
People sure seem eager to miss how very much of this missive involves self-deprecating humor.
I might try these out at the next show:
"I really like how you're not overly obsessed with keeping your guitar in tune."
"You're good enough to open for Daughtry!"
"That was a great show! You sure are funny!"
Wow! I already knew musicians were thin-skinned, but who knew fans were so sensitive? Get over yourselves!
I think most of y'all are taking this way too seriously. Dan's right, this is mostly to be taken humorously. That doesn't mean it's a lie. It probably sucks to be a musician constantly confronted by tongue-tied awkward fanboys and girls, almost as much as it sucks to be one of those fans compelled to go up there and make fools of themselves. (Count me in the latter category.)
Stephen Fry wrote the best piece I've read on the celebrity-fan interaction, and how to make it work for both parties. Here's an excerpt: http://www.stephenfry.com/2007/09/27/let-fame/9/
Thank you to John and Dan for their additions. I kept re-reading Robbie's post wandering if I had somehow missed the place where he said he detested his fans. I'm always amazed how intelligent people can somehow dupe themselves into thinking that someone is starting a fight with them. R-E-L-A-X everyone. Take a breath or a xanex or something. Peace.
Robbie -
Glad to learn you're a Marti Jones fan, too. I'll never forget the first time I saw her a few years ago at The Brewery . . . . um, never mind.
Hope you make it back to Raleigh soon. Suzanne and I really like that one song you do.
KB
Judy/Dan/John - ditto - I think you are spot on.
Judy/Dan/John - ditto - I think you are spot on.
I just alway tell Robbie how "dreamy" he is. I'll tell him in St. Louis tonight.
Enjoyed seeing the two Robbie show last night in Memphis. What may have been a disappointing crowd in terms of numbers, possible afforded them a chance to relax a bit more than normal and simply play. While one can't control the size of the crowd, one can decide what to do with it. Their choice was to make us feel included. It was a treat to see two great players having fun. That is the best gift any performer can give to the audience. Did I actually hear you guys reference T. Monk in somewhere in there?
...and no, I will not say who I think is the better player. You know who you are......
I'll end with one of the funniest comeback lines I've personally heard from a musician. I watched a guitar player drink 4 shots of tequila on the second break. Needless to say the 3rd set was not good. That same guitarist was knee-walking on stage winding his cords when a guy walked up to him and said, "You guys really suck!" He did have to think a second before he came back with..."Oh yeah.....er.....well....we'll suck again!" Must admit I used that line a few times after that......
After the set in Champaign Sunday night, Robbie ran out the front door, approaching the first two guys in smoking range. He said, "Gotta cigaret guys?" My son and his buddy gave Robbie the cigaret, which Robbie proceeded to take 3 or 4 drags off, then ran back in for the encore.
After the encore I spoke briefly to Robbie while picking up a disc. Rather than make any comment regarding the music or performance that might be lend to delusions of grandeur or failure, I informed him that my sons buddy had come in and said: "fucker smoked half my last cigaret."
Ha, no mis-interprettation there!
We did truly enjoy the performance though, and hopefully, purchasing 2 discs and 2 t-shirts, relayed that message as well.
On this topic...My husband and I saw you in Albany at the fabulous "Linda" theater, a very intimate audience... there was this crazy chick down the row of 20 chairs really bouncing in her seat, going wild, made me also want to express my appreciation of the music too. After the show we went up to her to talk about the show, her comment was...."This is so much better than crack!". She was mid-thirties, with her parents, so I could only think she had just been released from rehab. I was in no position to judge her crazy ecstasy since I was on my first night out after my second baby was born and had just pounded several beers in the dirtiest bar in Albany right before the show!
Shortly after the Tribune printed an article about me, I was at the Empty Bottle, and so was David Byrne. Having a stack of copies with me, I waited for him to walk by and handed him one. I said, "I know a lot about you, here's something about me."
He took it, thanked me and kept going towards the bar.
Robbie Fulks, you lack the common touch! I'd rather have a beer with Mike Huckabee than you. He's a true patriot, a slightly better guitar player, and I'm sure he'd want to be my pal. You have a nicer butt, though.
If I ever offended you (if?), Robbie, I am sorry. My show behavior has much improved. You can't tell if I am there or not--the way it should be. I got excited by the Robbie energy, what can I say?
It doesn't hurt my feelings that Robbie does not embrace me, though. What can you expect? He's cordial enough. Once and a while he's tired (and he smells different when he is fatigued) but he's like never rude. It's unfair to ask the guy to love you for crissakes. Only at cuddle parties can a person demand such things.
When I hear Robbie describe himself as 'delicate' I wince. Of course he is delicate! A person with that much sensitivity and depth has to be delicate! Yet I forget this because I am ignorant and so many times I eagerly hopped over to him unable to contain my clodlike nature in his magnetic presence. Yes, I insert myself in his path, yes I am weird but damn, I hope I don't sandpaper his psyche.
I'd like to believe he thinks I am not smart enough to truly insult him.
After touring Spain a few times and getting the "your show was really funny" comment more than a few times, we took it a bit personally! What was actually FUNNY about our show? Flat singing? Bad playing? Are we here to make you laugh?!?! Until I realized that they were translating fun into funny!
I get so many underhanded compliments when I play ("You weren't nearly as terrible as I thought you were gonna be") that I just say thanks and leave it.
I think the 'fan experience' is all about something they have always wanted to say to you and, now that they get their chance, the experience is not about the artist at all but their experience BUILDING up to this one.
When I was in my early 20s, some dude recognized me from the teevee, walked over with girlfriend in tow and said , " You are that guy from that show, right?" I replied, "Yes. Yes I am". He said, "Yeah, my girlfriend noticed you. I think yer a total fag".
I take the good ones, no matter how underhanded or odd.
We all use platitudes and "not-so-deep" comments to open up, to break ice and get things rolling...
It's part of being a civilized human.
As a sometimes performer/sometimes gaga fan, I have been known say something stupid like "I love you Man", or "what kind of strings do you use?", when I come nervously up to the table of someone who's touched my ears and heart, and bare my vulnerability... a feeling most warm-blooded people feel eventually.
On that customer side of the table, we're all mostly awkward 6th graders... talkin' to the cool, popular girls/guys.
When they say, "I just farted!" everyone falls over themselves because every utterance seems cool/ witty and delivered with perfect timing... if the nerd says the same thing they gets looks, or maybe beat-up for being so annoying.
I'll take your annoying fans list please, and we'll both be happier.
Hey, the guy/or girl asking "stupid" questions, could be the bigger star someday...it happens.
I like Robbie's energetic performances and am never too mindful of the perceptions of any performer once they come off stage. I perform. I'm happy when folks like it and I'm not so happy when they don't. When they are goofy about their responses I assign it to different personalities; i.e. it takes all kinds, and if they are a fellow performer I listen a little more intently and take it a little more seriously just because.
I also still like Robbie's material even though he pissed me off after a Southgate House show. A bunch of folks loved the show, no one was working the swag table and he motioned me to go ahead and sell cd's. Sold about 250 bucks worth, handed him the dough when he came off stage and he said "thanks man, how much did you steal?"
Very classy.
The moral is, that notion of "dumb things to say" cuts both ways. Love your stuff, Robbie, will never buy a cd or a download.