Reading the Room
My latest contribution to “The Killing Floor – Notes from the Editor of the Boston Blues Society”
Mike Null
Special to The Killing FloorAs I cruise along to the end of my fourth week here at The House of Blues and Jazz, I find myself grateful, excited and challenged.
The challenges change from day to day. I am always trying to think of steps I can take to get the band tighter, improve the stage show and make sure everyone is having a great time. The first few weeks are all about preparation, but now that the band is looking sharp and sounding great, what’s the next step?
As the bandleader, it’s my job to prepare set lists and call tunes as the night goes on. Let me just say that I never really understood the art of reading the room until I came to China. In Boston, I was more often a side guy and didn’t have to carry the responsibility. Now that I have to think about it in addition to my own playing and singing, I’ve begun to realize how important it really is.
I think set lists are a bad idea. I know a lot of people would protest, but hear me out. Sticking to a set list robs me of the ability to read the room. Instead of a set list, I prefer a song list broken down by song type: danceable tunes, slow tunes, epic musicianship tunes, etc. As I engage the crowd and try to get a show moving, I get a sense of how people are feeling. I’ve found that there a few types of crowds, and a crowd can vary from set to set.
The shy room—This is typically common at the beginning of every night, especially on weeknights. Folks get off work, go out to unwind a bit and probably have dinner or a drink. They’ve just spent all day playing by the rules and are very reserved. Early well-meaning stage banter is received by a tentative response or at worst, dead silence. Some bands never get past this initial contact. Don’t let it get to you! These people are the same people that might be swinging from the rafters later on. I just give them a wink and a knowing smile and loosen up the band, knowing that I have to go there myself first before they will come with me.
The dancing room—This is when the energy is high, often on weekends or later in the night after people have a few drinks. My job changes as a bandleader. I have to suck it up and realize the gig is no longer about the music. A dancing room wants pure enabling energy that will be the blues-powered engine for their party. The room will get loud. People will talk and dance and my job is to call tunes that will keep the party spirit alive. Though I enjoy the dancing room, I must say that I do not consider dancing a sign of success. When people are dancing I haven’t lost, but I haven’t totally won yet either. I did not come all the way to China to become a human juke box. I want people to actually dig what they hear.
The listening room—This is my favorite. This is when I’ve “got ‘em.” The listening room is a room full of patrons that plant themselves in their seats, glue their eyes on the stage and don’t move except maybe to go to the bathroom. The vibe is a self-policing silence, respectful and appreciative of what’s happening. I call different tunes for rooms like this. I call tunes that are more musically intelligent, in many ways more satisfying to both play and to listen to, and in such a nurturing environment, the band often stretches out and reaches unprecedented levels of ensemble playing. I know I’ve read the room well when I can turn a rowdy Saturday dance crowd into a room of energetic and engaged listeners.
My friend Aaron Shadwell said it best: “Don’t ever blame the crowd for how well the band performs that night. If Michael Jackson were here, we’d all be having a great time.”
