BORN TO PERFORM Part 2:
Hey I wanna be a ROCK STAR – but not in the Nickleback way.
BLOG POST
Hello people. We are back for
part 2 of my Born to Perform
mini-series. Thanks to all that all read the blog last time round. If you didn’t
get a chance to read it, feel free to check it out- it’s just placed below this.
Just to recap: I am talking about all my artistic pursuits before reaching
stand-up comedy. This blog will entirely
feature on my music abilities and when I tried to become a rock god.
It was incredibly similar to acting, comedy and anything in my teenage life, I pursued music as a means to get some groupies. And it was equally similar as I failed to attract said groupies.
It was incredibly similar to acting, comedy and anything in my teenage life, I pursued music as a means to get some groupies. And it was equally similar as I failed to attract said groupies.
Love Music:
I always loved rock and metal and
that bored through everything I ended up doing: I always listened to music on
the way to school, during lessons and the way out of school. I would be so
involved with my music, I would rarely take a moment to remove my headphones
from ears when engaging in a conversation. They would be lucky if I even
pressed pause. I loved music viscerally.
I loved Metallica, The Beatles, Megadeth, Pixies and Guns And Roses. And the
Spice Girls.
I went to music festivals
regularly by myself, had long hair and was a mosh-pit aficionado. I went to
gigs often. I remember that my year 10 tutor took my iPod off me once during
tutor time and I melodramatically claimed that I would never be happy EVER
again if she took it from me. She did exactly that and I haven’t felt happiness
since. I was deeply in love my music and I dedicated much of my young life to
it.
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| My long hair shows how much of a rocker I was. |
Guitar Hero:
From my love of rock, I found
something which suited both my gamer and my inner Gene Simmons, as I found a
game called Guitar Hero: where you used a plastic guitar controller to feign
being a rock star and also feigning that you’re talented and popular. You play guitar
in time to famous rock songs, as well as joining in with all-night drug romps,
fighting your bandmates and disrespecting the roadies that worked for you. I
was fully immersed in the game. I played
and I played. I became an expert fast. I slayed songs like Free Bird by Lynyrd
Skynyrd , Slayer’s Raining Blood (bane of my life) and of course Through The
Fire And The Flames. I got really good
for the games and bought some more, including Guitar Hero Metallica, Rock Band
Beatles and My favourite: Guitar Hero John Cage: 4’33 (a very easy yet very
expensive game)*.
I became one of North Yorkshire’s
best (and only) Guitar Hero player**. I would rack up high scores like no
other. Some of the guys in my year started to hear of my great talent on Guitar
hero. For example I got a very high score on Afterlife by Avenged Sevenfold on
Rock Band. Check me out dad – I told you I am not an embarrassment.
“Did you complete Through the
Fire and Flames?” hushed the kids at school. Yeah I did- big what? It was easy
– I could do it blindfolded***. I was playing it cool to my guy friends, but I
would be absolutely mortified if any girls found out – as they might find out
that I may have been a bit of a nerd. And I could not let them, under any circumstance,
allow them to find out that I’m a nerd. There was no way they could have known
that I was nerd: certainly not from my Elder Scrolls themed metalwork in tech
class, my Buzz Lightyear Lunchbox nor even my
intricate knowledge of Harrison Ford’s career.
But one fateful day, I was
talking to a girl called Claudia who was trying to flirt with. It was going well;
I was charming her (probably with my pre-prepared lecture about Indiana Jones).
But then a mortifying moment, a guy called James came up to Claudia and I and innocuously
asked me “Hey are you the guy that completed Through The Fire An The Flames?”. I stood embarrassed when I should
have been standing with pride. I
believed that he, and he alone, ruined the illusion of my being cool. If there were to happen to me now (which it
won’t because I am a responsible adult****)
But then I realised: I spent so
much time and effort into learning how to play a fake instrument, imagine what
if I do the same real instrument. Then girls may find it even cooler. THEN I
CAN PLAY THROUGH THE FIRE AND FLAMES IN REAL LIFE. From this, I wanted to play
guitar for real.
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| This was the kind of rocker I wanted to be. |
Guitar Zero
“You want a guitar for
Christmas?” my mum chimed, “Do you know how expensive they are?” My family were
sceptics – they didn’t know how much I wanted to be in a rock band. None of my
immediate family play any instruments and yearned for me not too either.
“We know you Matt” chastised my
brother “and we KNOW that if you did get a guitar for Christmas: You would open
it on Christmas morning, play with it for two months, and then give up”. Then
he laughed. Then my mum laughed. They
laughed simultaneous at my genuine plea for a guitar. Because they had given me
grief about playing guitar- I thought I would tenaciously learn the guitar and
get good at it – just to spite my family members. Not to play guitar for my own
satisfaction, but just rub the fact in my family’s face. And that’s what I did,
I vindictively learnt guitar. I’m glad
they did tease me, otherwise I would have entirely given up on the guitar after
two months, as predicted.
So I got the guitar and started
taking lessons with a man in my village called Andy. He was a like a hippy
grandfather who taught me my way around a guitar, whilst dressed comfortably in
his dressing gown, with a fag hanging from his bottom lip, on a Saturday
morning. After a couple of months, I went into the family living room one night
to show my family that I learnt Day Tripper by The Beatles. I was super proud
of myself as it was a hard song! My dad had just wanted to watch Fred Dibnah on
Tv but family obligations deemed he must watch. I played each note in the
correct order and expected roars of applause. Instead my dad was annoyed of the
price of the lessons after what I just produced. He proclaimed: “12 Pound for
half an hour son?! It’d be cheaper to have Paul McCartney come down and play
for us.” My family weren’t the most supportive. But they were at least funny
about it.
Finally Rocking Out.
I continued to play guitar and I
slowly became better, but I put the dream of being a famous guitarist on hold
as I tried my hand in another route to being famous. I joined a band. But I did
not play guitar. Oh no. I did something I have MORE inexperience at.
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| Workstation gang. This caption contains free eyebleach. We look like victims on a documentary. |
I became the singer in a band.
There was a great time for me as I was able to perform in a group with my
friends and I got one step closer to creating a dream come true. There was one
drawback in the fact that I couldn’t quite sing. I thought that all singing was
being energetic onstage (which I could do really well). No. How did I join the
group – well my friends Dan (drums) and Charlie (guitar) decided to start a
band and were looking for a singer. I said “I could do it”. I didn’t know that
fact. They didn’t know either. Apparently that was enough for the band, and I
got the gig. It was uproarious union.
We forged history on that day as we decided on the band name: Workstation Deviation. The titans of rock knew that something great had occurred that day. The band title sounds like a bad political rap group or a shit app to play on your phone at work. I thought of the name. It illustrated that we don’t stand for “the man” and we are truly rebellious, whilst none of us have done nothing immoral in our entire lives. We hadn’t even been morally ambiguous. We had just been good little rockstars.
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| Looks very marketable. I would be a t-shirt with that on/ |
We rehearsed together starting off with
American Idiot by Green Day and Buck Rogers By Feeder. I was pretty Rock and Roll as I often late
for rehearsals. I didn’t do drugs and didn’t drink (I was like 14 years old),
but I was Axl Rose level late for things. It seemed like I had followed the
traits of all the bad rock stars. Where was my Grohl-esque talents? I seemed to
gifted the same rock and roll savageness of The Jonas Brothers, but for a
fraction of their budget.
We played a handful of gigs: here
were our highlights:
1)
Our
Debut Gig:
One day, Mrs
Drake, a Food Tech teacher walked past the rehearsal rooms in which we were
rocking out to our 82nd imperfect rehearsal of American Idiot. She
stops by the door, probably in awe, looking at raw and immense talent. She asks
if we can play a set at an event later in the week. We were thrilled and we
said yes.
We decided to
play the song. We were three teenage lads and I believe we were all
appropriately terrified. This had been one of my first performances outside of
academia or school-time. Something we were genuinely passionate about. The
night consisted of our school performers: poetry, some dancers, and I believe
we were the only musicians except a couple single together. We were going to rock the joint. There was a
scattering of teachers were at the gig, therefore, we changed the swearword from
the first verse. We were proper rock and
roll. Ozzy Osbourne eat your heart out.
We were
introduced onstage as a very special band. We were pumped. Charlie’s guitar rocked as Dan
smashed beautiful beats. We rocked out. I sang through the means out-of-breath
saying Yorkshire things to the style of Green Day: “Durnt wunna be an Imerican
Ideeot. Bloody heck, get my tractor, my flatcap and my gravy!”
But I got overexcited too fast. I was bouncing onstage like Hayley Williams and I accidently put the swearword back into the song. The band was shocked, so shocked that Charlie’s plectrum snapped in two. Then, realising my transgression went full Ozzy and started -running around the stage to incite mosh-pits. My Inner rock demon had been unleashed. Unfortunately, this was just after the first chorus and Dan the drummer saw me venturing to the stage left rapidly, and assumed that I had left and he stopped playing out of confusion. The song stopped, we were confused and that was our first gig. Has anyone got the number to the Rock ‘N Roll Hall Of Fame.
The thing I
remember, absolutely vividly to this day, was that our head of year – Mrs.
Garnett trying to politely give us advice. “You really need to practice. And
then practice some more.” She stared at me “You REALLY need to practice”.
We did well.
2) Battle Of The Bands-
All good bands
start out by playing at Battle of the Bands. And those bands turned up to play
against us at the Richmond Youth Club in North Yorkshire. In all fairness, this
was our second gig ever and we were by far the youngest there. Some of the
bands there were the sad uncles who were 40 years old and still desperate that
their pop-punk band is going to take off at any given moment.
I had brought my
family along and to this day I remember the faces of my family’s feigned proudness
and illusive confusion. I had requested
that we should play Enter Sandman by Metallica, but we stuck to what we knew-
vaguely sweary American Idiot.
I remember
finishing the set with glee. We played well together and we had fun. It felt
like this was something that I wanted to do. It had a lot of hard work built up
to it but it felt genuinely great.
We didn’t win
though. Bastards.
3)
Headlining
the Christmas Concert
The Christmas concert was the
bastion of talent. It was the flagship of fun. It was the last afternoon before
the Christmas break, and we were allowed to miss lessons to watch our friends
perform.
We were auditioned by Mr
Speakman, who was the head of Keystage 3 and also looked like a human Cheese
grater, with the temper of one too. He was an intense, abrasive and incredibly grating
(especially if you were made out of mozzarella). “Next!”.
I remember we turned up and by
this point we had two new members, Jonny on bass and Tyler on rhythm guitar and
there were considerably more tensions in the group. It’s as if someone had
dropped a Yoko on us. An example of this had been the change in the band name –
against my will. We had gone from Workstation Deviation to Socio-Static. What
the bloody hell was wrong with Workstation Deviation? It’s one of the best
names in rock history. It has angst, it has a rhyme and it has marketability.
Will it look good on a t-shirt or a teacup? Yes it does! THEN WHY DID WE CHANGE
IT SOCIO-STATIC. It was like they wanted the band to fail! This wasn’t the only
change within the group.
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| I mean does this look marketable? |
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| I don't think so. |
My musical tastes and ambitions seemed to be
different from the ambitions of the group. Because I am a visionary - they were
grounded. I was artistic soothsayer- they were trying to fit the lyrics to a
beat. I was the Kings Of Leon - and they were talented. Tensions rippled
through the group. But we learnt to play Blur’s Song 2 which I did well at because I put lots of effort in it and I
had a vivid stage presence which was entertaining. My energetic jumping around
the stage worked well with this song.
We were beckoned to the stage. We
performed the song – but as I was inadequate with the mic stand. The Mic kept
on slipping down. I bent my waist down accordingly. I didn’t know how to fix
it. I ended up bending down staring at the ground, uncomfortably singing the
words of the song to the floor. It was surreal, but I thought it was the best
course of action. The song ended.
“You know you can adjust the mic
stand?”
“Yeah – but this is what rock stars
do” is the sassy response I wish I had said. Realistically I just crumbled and
walked away. But my mic faux pas must have not been a massive transgression, as
we got the gig. We were superbly excited, we were going to be the heroes of the
school! But unfortunately, snow postponed the gig until the spring term.
After the Christmas break, on a
cold winter’s morning the band approached me out of the blue and formally
kicked me out of the band. I took it remarkably well, but that might have been
the ludicrous amount of smack I had taken to inspire my creative genius. I was
totally fine with it- until I saw they still played the Christmas gig with a
newer, better replacement of me who rocked Song
2. They rocked the post-christmas concert like the rock god I wanted to be.
I was a distorting and isolating feeling.
Et tu, Workstation Deviation?
Like all bitter musicians*****, I
then worked as a solo artist for a bit. I could play guitar. I couldn’t sing. But
MAYBE I could perhaps do both. I couldn’t do both. Although I did play guitar
in my uncle’s Irish band during my university years, which was great fun. But
there was a moment shortly after the band’s break up which gave me some inspiration
to be a different kind of performance.
I was able to have my own Christmas
Concert experience: in the final English lesson of an English Teacher at our
school: a hip young teacher called Mr. Smith who had taught my brother. We
celebrated his legacy in style with party rings, dancing in a science lab and
plugging in our iPod nanos. And I was able to perform a rendition of both
Tenacious D’s Tribute and of Scrubs’ Guy Love with an accomplice- Ben. I got up
on top of the science counters and started singing comedically and started to
enjoy the hilarity of performing.
Here’s what it looked like.
Mr Smith said to me: “You know- I
think you would be really good at comedy”. I blushed and said “Really?” with a
hint of befuddlement. He suavely replied “I expect to see your name in lights
one day”.
The starving artist in me demands that this moment was the thing which inspired me to
become a comedian. Unfortunately it was
not. It would have been a really nice end to this blog, but alas life doesn’t
work well for blog conclusions. But the remark by Mr Smith always rang in my
head.
I guess Mr. Smith saw a comic
potential in me which I had yet to learn about- but it was super important for
me to learn and tame this comic potential myself. I learned that music was not
really for me. It suited me well being an Ozzy Osbourne figure, but working in
a group, but I could never orchestrate it in the way that I found best. I still
do some music from time to time. But
there was another growing passion in my heart, something which I wanted to do
so badly.
And that was comedy- the art of making people laugh.
Born To Perform will conclude with the third and final piece: The path of comedy.
If you would like me to play guitar anytime soon, I will be playing in my musical comedy duo: THE LOCK HOSS MONSTER at International Youth Arts Festival in July. I play guitar and I am a rock star.
Things always seem to work out in peculiar ways it seems.
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| The Lock Hoss MOnster - performing at IYAF Festival |
*That is a very niche joke. Shall
I remove it. No I shan’t.
**Christ is he doing this star-footnote
system again. Did he not learn the first time. I wish he used 4’33 instead of
this frankly overplayed joke. And yes it is the same niche joke I just did do
moments before.
***This, of course, is facetious
and incredibly difficult. I cried with frustration many times by being beaten
by it. This was second to Raining Blood
by Slayer which still makes me uneasy anytime I hear this song.
****Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.
Yeah right.
*****I’m not bitter now of
course. I’m totally fine now.
