Mornings like this remind me of why I love to get up early...before the sun, and watch it all happen.
Watch what all happen, you say? Watch my world come alive once again. It's kind like a big stage production, where the stage is totally black, and then a single spot comes on, with the dimmers on and a ghostly light illuminates the stage, and the good light guy slowly increases the power...and the stage comes alive with whatever the feature is. Yeah, like that. A ghostly light comes from behind the mountains, slowly getting brighter, the Sycamores along the creek come into view, beautiful lavender and pink colors fill the horizon...and the birth of another day is complete. Nature responds with a full throated chorus, as happy as I to see the new day, and if I can maintain this feeling of goodness and happy expectation...well, then it will be another spectacular day. By golly, I believe I can do that...yessir, I can.
As an entertainer, I can tell you that finding yourself, in the dark, on to another strange stage, so the light guy can do his magic thing for the opening of your show can be challenging. Wires and Amps, instruments and monitors, all like a mine field you have to cross, in the dark, to get to your mike. My friend Mel McDaniel went off of a stage like that and like to have killed himself several years ago and really never did completely recover. When the heavy spotlight then hits you right in the face...it is blinding. I always tried to get to the light guy ahead of a show and tell him to keep the bright lights out of my eyes so I could see the audience, otherwise, it's a lot like singing to yourself. Entertainment is supposed to be communication between performer and audience, and to do that you got to see the folks. The shows in Branson have got that down to a fine science. The interaction between stage and audience is tremendous, and an audience comes away feeling like they were really connected to the artist.
The First Generation of Music Heroes, those that come up the Pike in the 40's and 50's, they had a special connection to their fans. I have watched Ernest Tubb, so sick he could hardly go, sit on the edge of the stage, after a show, and meet and visit with every fan that waited patiently in line for a moment of Ernest's time. Same with Red Foley, Bill Monroe, Minnie Pearl, Roy Acuff, Little Jimmy Dickens..and later, Porter, Dolly, Bill Anderson, Bobby Bare, Jan Howard, Leona Williams...they didn't have to pretend, they really have a love for the fans that supported them all the years of their career...the ones that are still going with their shows today, from that era, carry on the tradition, Marty Stuart and Connie Smith being a good example.
So, maybe we didn't have the pyrotechnics, the big stage settings, with towers to climb and swing out over the audience, while the swirling lights go crazy...working the young audience up to a frothing at the mouth frenzy and music so loud you could not hear a word of the song the artist was singing...yeah, maybe we missed out on all that...we kinda had to make do with songs that tell a story, an audience that listens to every word, musicians that knew when to play quiet or build to a climax, sound and light folks that knew just how much or how little to use their instruments of light and sound, and an evening of special connection with a group of folks that came to listen and really care about what you were singing about. Boy, I sure am glad I missed all that other stuff, a special connection is just fine by me. Stan
Watch what all happen, you say? Watch my world come alive once again. It's kind like a big stage production, where the stage is totally black, and then a single spot comes on, with the dimmers on and a ghostly light illuminates the stage, and the good light guy slowly increases the power...and the stage comes alive with whatever the feature is. Yeah, like that. A ghostly light comes from behind the mountains, slowly getting brighter, the Sycamores along the creek come into view, beautiful lavender and pink colors fill the horizon...and the birth of another day is complete. Nature responds with a full throated chorus, as happy as I to see the new day, and if I can maintain this feeling of goodness and happy expectation...well, then it will be another spectacular day. By golly, I believe I can do that...yessir, I can.
As an entertainer, I can tell you that finding yourself, in the dark, on to another strange stage, so the light guy can do his magic thing for the opening of your show can be challenging. Wires and Amps, instruments and monitors, all like a mine field you have to cross, in the dark, to get to your mike. My friend Mel McDaniel went off of a stage like that and like to have killed himself several years ago and really never did completely recover. When the heavy spotlight then hits you right in the face...it is blinding. I always tried to get to the light guy ahead of a show and tell him to keep the bright lights out of my eyes so I could see the audience, otherwise, it's a lot like singing to yourself. Entertainment is supposed to be communication between performer and audience, and to do that you got to see the folks. The shows in Branson have got that down to a fine science. The interaction between stage and audience is tremendous, and an audience comes away feeling like they were really connected to the artist.
The First Generation of Music Heroes, those that come up the Pike in the 40's and 50's, they had a special connection to their fans. I have watched Ernest Tubb, so sick he could hardly go, sit on the edge of the stage, after a show, and meet and visit with every fan that waited patiently in line for a moment of Ernest's time. Same with Red Foley, Bill Monroe, Minnie Pearl, Roy Acuff, Little Jimmy Dickens..and later, Porter, Dolly, Bill Anderson, Bobby Bare, Jan Howard, Leona Williams...they didn't have to pretend, they really have a love for the fans that supported them all the years of their career...the ones that are still going with their shows today, from that era, carry on the tradition, Marty Stuart and Connie Smith being a good example.
So, maybe we didn't have the pyrotechnics, the big stage settings, with towers to climb and swing out over the audience, while the swirling lights go crazy...working the young audience up to a frothing at the mouth frenzy and music so loud you could not hear a word of the song the artist was singing...yeah, maybe we missed out on all that...we kinda had to make do with songs that tell a story, an audience that listens to every word, musicians that knew when to play quiet or build to a climax, sound and light folks that knew just how much or how little to use their instruments of light and sound, and an evening of special connection with a group of folks that came to listen and really care about what you were singing about. Boy, I sure am glad I missed all that other stuff, a special connection is just fine by me. Stan
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