is occasionally known as Mister Faust, an alleged singer-songwriter,
is the writer and "artist" of The Home World, a hiatused web comic,
is the guy who used to blog a lot about writing (it's all gone now, sorry),
is an infrequent haunter of community theater stages,
and is someone who went to high school in Wyoming, college in Oklahoma, and now lives in Ohio.
If the person you're looking for doesn't meet these criteria, then this isn't the him you're looking for.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Holiday Greetings from Mr. Faust
Before I go on a blog break over the holidays, I'd like to leave you all with this little confection, courtesy, of course, of Random Acts of Music. After all, it's been the subject of much discussion in these pages of late, so it's only fair you get to see it.
Maybe.
Anyway, Happy Holidays to each and every one of you! Thanks for hanging in there with me.
Stage Persona Non Grata, or, Can I Find the Real Me?
One of my duties, so to speak, with Random Acts of Music is The Henry and Joe, a talk show starring Henry J and myself, done for his internet radio station, Random Acts of Radio. In this show, we roll tape (well, actually, spin hard drive) and talk off the top of our heads for around thirty minutes. Sometimes we even stay on the music-related topic that I introduce.
The most recent show we taped, #13, was about the seeming inability of American acts to write fun, upbeat songs. And somehow or another, while discussing this subject, we got onto the subject of stage names and the personae that go with them. Henry said he liked my stage name, Mr. Faust, and wondered aloud what kind of stage persona I was going to have.
I thought, good question. I thought I was just going to be me.
Then I realized something that might be the key to this near-paralyzing stagefright I've been dealing with when I get up to play.
I've been thinking what an odd anomaly it is. After all, I've gotten up to speak in front of churches, civic clubs, classrooms, and skeptical clients and held forth on a number of topics. Sometimes I've had notes, other times not. Especially when I talk about writing. I just turn on my mouth and go. And though I have butterflies before hand, they leave when I get up and start speaking.
Ditto when I lead singing at church. Some butterflies, but nothing that doesn't leave when the job starts.
And ditto ditto when I'm on stage in a community theater production. The worst jitters I get are opening night, and while I might be jumpy before going on for a big scene even on closing night, I always manage to go out and mostly get the job done.
So why the case of shakes that gets so bad that I can hardly strum?
I think Henry inadvertently hit on something when he asked me what my stage persona is.
I don't have one.
See, in all of the other situations, I know who I am or what my mission is. I'm Joe Faust, an Elder in the Church, giving a lesson or leading the congregation in worship. I'm Joe Clifford Faust, author, spewing out information about writing. Or I'm somebody else - Norman Bulansky or Victor Velasco or Bob Ewell, and my job is to make the audience cry or laugh or hiss.
But when I'm out there with my guitar, well... in the words of the Firesign Theater, Who am us, anyway?.
I guess it's just me. Joe. With a guitar.
I'm not sure I've ever done that before. At Church I have a goal in mind, and in every other situation I am technically somebody else. No wonder I'm scared. I don't know how to be just me in a situation like that.
So I need to be somebody else. I need a stage persona.
That shouldn't be so hard. Look at Johnny Cash - the Man in Black. Look at both David Bowie and Madonna, both of whom went through stage personae like they were tissues (facial or bathroom, take your pick). Ever seen David Byrne in Stop Making Sense and then seen an interview with him? In the former he commands the stage, in the latter he's jittery and awkward, and doesn't make eye contact with the interviewer.
The odd thing is, I might have been subconsciously reaching for something like this but couldn't quite put my finger on it. And it might have even started with everything I went through trying to pick out a stage name.
However, I've had other things trickle through my mind over the last several months. I went through a period where I thought about getting a hat to wear on stage. I have a ton of baseball caps - I thought about wearing a different one every time I play. But that idea didn't click for me (although I do wear them a lot - maybe wearing one would be too much me on stage). But I couldn't find anything else I liked that wasn't stupid (Pith Helmets) or that weren't being used by others with great success (Berets and Fedoras and Pork Pies).
I thought about clothing, but I'm not exactly a clothes horse or someone with an extensive wardrobe. About the only thing I could do would be wear all gray - I gravitate toward that color. But that would kill my wife, who (no doubt, correctly) thinks I look better in other colors.
Quite by accident, I realized that every time I have played Muggswigz, I have appeared with a different guitar. No. That could get ridiculously expensive, and I'd never get it past the aforementioned wife.
After the incident taping The Santa Song, I theorized that wearing sunglasses might obstruct my view of the audience and make me less fearful. But that's kind of silly, too, I think (and again my wife would complain because I'd be covering up what she calls my expressive eyes).
(It occurs to me that if I got a divorce, I could become this grey-wearing, fedora-topped guy in sunglasses playing all the coffeehouses - but I'd no doubt be miserable as a result - the classic tortured artist, I suppose. On the other hand, maybe that's the problem. I'm basically a happy guy. Maybe I'm not tortured enough. Perhaps my wife and I could start shooting heroin together like the Cobains.)
Probably the best thing I could do is just keep playing in front of people and learn how to be myself in the process. I'm not sure I like that idea. I've gotten rather used to the idea of being someone else in situations like that. And I had no idea how prevalent that has been in my life until now. I am thinking of the personality change I underwent when I ended up getting married to a gregarious girl from Ohio. I went from being outgoing to much more the quiet observer. I explain it this way: when our personalities started to click, I let my wife be outgoing for me because I realized that inside of me was an introvert who was just dying to stay in.
And now that introvert is supposed to get up on a stage with a guitar and be himself while playing songs for people. Especially since I'm not sure who the real me is.
Heh, yeah. That makes sense.
About as much sense as leading worship service. Or being in plays.
Well, they say that introverts have a switch they flip to be able to do things like this. I obviously have one for Church Leader, Actor, and Guest Speaker. I just need to find the one for Singer Songwriter and learn how to trip it.
It's got to be there somewhere.
And if I can't find it? Then I'm going to write a letter to David Bowie and see if he has any unused personae laying around.
Another Gig of Sorts, or, Is It Possible To Be Afraid of a Song?
Monday night I had a Random Acts of Music shoot with local artist and up-and-comer Zach, a nice kid with lots of talent who puts on a great show as a solo act - I need to see him with his band sometime.
Anyway, before he arrived, it fell to me to provide a source of noise for the sound check. So I picked up Henry J's Ovation and started going through some of my songs. And the funny thing is that there was nary a bit of stagefright in my veins. I played Going to Texas #4, Red Riding Hood, and Three Fingered Mickey, all without so much as a tremor.
So I decided to whip through The Santa Claus Song, and guess what? The nerves came back. Not as bad as they had been the night of the taping, but still enough to make its presence known.
I finished and switched to Wish I Were. Nothing. I was fine.
Now the wise-in-the-ways-of-music Henry J says that you don't really know a song until you've played it in front of an audience. I haven't coffeehoused any of the songs I played for the sound check, but Henry has heard everything but Wish I Were, which means I've sort of played all of those songs for an audience.
(Incidentally, my nervousness during the taping of The Santa Claus Song caused me to improvise a bit during the playing, including the addition of a silent beat before going into the chorus. After hearing it, I kind of liked it, so I kept it. Henry was right about playing a song out, but that still doesn't explain why it makes me nervous.)
Conclusion? I wasn't sure what to think. Maybe I'm scared of the song. Or maybe there's still some subconscious apprehension behind the song because I haven't played it as much as some of the others just because it is a Christmas song.
Well, I'll keep thinking about it. Or maybe not. Maybe that's the whole problem. Well, I'll try playing the song throughout the year and see what happens.
There was one other thing that came out of the sound check. After we finished taping with Zach, Henry decided to let our intrepid intern, Amanda, try her hand at running the camera. And he decided that I should have some more practice at performing in front of a camera. So I grabbed his Ovation and performed Going to Texas #4, accompanied by the HJ himself on egg shaker and sound and light man Bob Felmly on tambourine. Great fun, and a much easier shoot than before. But maybe it was the song.
Also, I did Texas for a reason. It it an important part of Evolution, an unfinished page in the Writing section of this blog. He's going to edit the song (I flubbed a couple of places that he's going to fix so I actually look competent) and post it on YouTube so I can imbed it as part of the exhibit. Look for that to post soon.
Dream Log #2: Look That Up in Your Funk and Wagnall's #2
I must be subconsciously thinking a lot about words of late, because I literally dreamed up another one:
fictoscopy.fict-AW-skopee or FIC-o-SKOP-ee, noun. A medical procedure featured in a novel, film or on TV that does not exist in real life. Usage: The heroine is diagnosed with Ali MacGraw's Disease, and her only chance of survival is a risky fictoscopy.
No, I haven't exactly been busy. With the holidays coming, the calendar has filled up quickly with the usual suspects, and some that were more unusual. And some of the more unusual things were three recent gigs I had, all playing but not necessarily paying. They looked something like this...
Gig #1: The Ladies' Retreat. Okay, this is not something I normally would have gone to. It was a Ladies' Retreat held by and for Church of Christ members in the area/region. One of the highlights of this year's retreat was a Talent Show. And my wife and one of her sisters were railroaded asked nicely to perform Irving Berlin's "Sisters," as made famous in the film White Christmas. My mother-in-law has wanted to see two or more of her daughters perform this piece for years, and it was thought that this would be as good a time as any.
Always willing to help, I offered to find them the lyrics online. And then, in an uncharacteristic bit of generosity1, I said, "If you want, maybe I could find guitar chords, and if I could figure out how to play it, I could accompany you."
Well, my wife and her youngest sister said yes, and it just so happened that I found both lyrics and chords online. There were tons of chords in the song, but I figured out that if I just went with the first chord in each measure, the thing would work. And for the most part, it did.
So after a couple of practices, I showed up at the Ladies' Retreat in time for the talent show, went in, did my thing as a hired gun, and then left. Only messed up once, but the cuteness factor of the two sisters singing was high, and nobody, not even the two vocalists, noticed. Good thing I wasn't working for Buddy Rich.
Gig #2: Random Acts of Music. Back when I became a producer or director or whatever the heck my title is for Random Acts of Music, the first thing I did was to start shooting our guests performing original Christmas songs for a Christmas show that would air, well, around this time of year.
In the ensuing months, we've accumulated quite a few, but not quite enough for a full show. So partner Henry J did one of his, and I was railroaded asked nicely to perform my piece, The Santa Claus Song.
Fortunately, I knew this was coming, so I practiced the song up. For the longest time I couldn't seem to get it right - I wanted to play it too fast, I think - so I got the idea of playing it with a metronome set at a deliberately slow pace. That did the trick.
So Friday night I put on a Christmas sweater and taped the song. The good news is I had all the chords and the words right, and the singing lessons my wife has been giving me paid off, because my voice was right there. I was okay in front of the mike because I'd practiced in front of my own mike at home. I was okay watching the camera because I kept in mind I'd have to look into it and follow it, too.
Unfortunately, I still got my usual stagefright. It about paralyzed my strumming hand. Made all the muscles Jell-o. So, after a couple of false starts, I managed to improvise enough to get through the song. As a result of this, I think I also had a deer-in-the-headlights look except when I had pre-planned facial expressions during the song.
Now the folks there for the taping thought it sounded fine. I think that's the usual case of me knowing where all the strumming mistakes were and them not. Either that, or they were just being kind. But I told them not to use it if it was bad.
Whatever. If you're in Northeast Ohio and have Time Warner Cable, the show will probably appear in it's usual slot sometime next week and run through Christmas. If you're not in Northeast Ohio, the song will be posted on YouTube and MySpace around the time the Christmas show airs. Just do a search for "Random Acts of Music" and you'll eventually find it.
Just make sure to wait an hour after you've eaten before viewing.
Gig #3: The Actual Santa Claus. Okay, this wasn't a play as in playing music gig. It was playing as in pretending. Sunday my wife and I did our annual turn as Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus for a local landmark. I think this is the sixth or seventh year we have done this.
Attendance was down as it was cold and rainy - more adults, not as many kids. The big requests this year were for The Littlest Pet Shop toys and the Nintendo DS system. Among adults, the big requests this year were for the Wii (Santa: "Are you kidding? I can't even get one this year!") and world peace (Santa: "Sorry, that's not my department. You have to talk to my boss about that one.").
Sometime during the day I got an offer to do an extra Santa appearance next year - but I'm not really sure I want to do it. Yeah, there'll be money involved (my wife and I do the regular gig as volunteers because we were railroaded asked nicely to do it as a fill-in some years ago and they kept asking us to come back).
But money isn't really everything (although I suppose it could depend on how much is involved). I like the idea of only doing it for four hours a year. I like the idea of exclusivity, that the Real Santa (or so many kids say) is at this one exclusive location and all the others are just helpers. With that in mind, the idea of doing it for money just seems wrong.
Plus, if I started doing that, where would it all stop? How many other paying gigs would come up? When would I have to start saying "No?" And most importantly, how many hours a year would get racked up before it became just another job instead of a lovely little one-off that helped get me in the holiday spirit? When would I stop showing up as Santa and start showing up as Ebineezer Scrooge?
Well, I've eleven months or so to think about it. In the meantime, it's been a busy holiday season already. I wonder what other adventures like ahead that I will be railroaded asked nicely to participate in.
---
It's strange, but I've been exhibiting other moments of uncharacteristic generosity lately. Some church friends asked if their teenaged son could borrow my acoustic guitar for a month or so - he was interested in taking lessons, and they wanted to see if he would stick with it before plunking down a couple of hundred for a decent started guitar. And I said yes without blinking. What is happening to me? Am I becoming human at long last? No, I think that's not phrased right. Am I transcending my own humanity at last?
