When the Magic Happens

If I think about the exact reason why I became a musician, I always conclude that goosebumps is the main motive. Personally, there are very few things in the world that can unlock this sensation in such a profound way as music.
So…what triggers this feeling? Because even though it’s the main reason why I started music, it doesn’t always happen.
In fact, it’s quite rare.
If I look back on the times when I performed for an audience and actually had goosebumps…I can count those moments on one hand.
There’s a higher rate when it comes to playing for myself or when I’m listening to music – whether it’s recordings or live concerts – but even then, it does not occur regularly.

Earlier this month I had an interesting conversation with a good friend about this topic. We discussed the various aspects and cases and we came up with some pretty cool insights.
You see, I had noticed that attending a (classical) concert where every note is played in the uttermost beautiful way, with tremendous care and devotion, can still make me feel like I’ve missed something that night. I won’t have had any goosebumps and may have even lost my attention throughout the story…simply because it was all too polished.
There needs to be some kind of rough edge, some kind of exhilarating moment where you sense that the artist is freeing himself from his eternal search of perfection.
We – my friend and I – concluded that in the very moment where the performer surprises himself in a positive way, that’s when the magic happens. That’s the exact moment when something more than melody, rhythm and harmony is transferred to the audience.

But, speaking out of experience…

sh*t’s bloody hard

…and worth every drop of sweat, tears and blood you spilled over it when you finally reach that blissful moment.

Luckily, it doesn’t all depend on this tiny percentage of success; there are other times when music gets under your skin.
Recently, I attended a concert in a very small venue of another friend. Latin jazz this time. After he and his partner finished, the overall part of the audience sat at one big table and they joined us for some drinks and food.
After a while, the guitarist took out his guitar again, the percussionist his cajon, and they started playing all these songs where people would join in and sing along. And even though it was not always in tune and I didn’t know most of the music or words, seeing all these random people singing, smiling and feeling connected, somehow initiated the mechanism that results in goosebumps.

I guess this must be the same process when you’re standing on a big stage and hear the entire audience sing (or scream) your song. In both these cases, it’s not even about the rough side or the polished side. It’s about connection and community.
The same magic, but entirely different.

I realise I’m only talking about live concerts and live experiences right now. Certainly, there are recordings that spark the same physical reaction…but somehow the excitement is even greater when it happens on the spot; the exact second when the music is made.

So, what are your experiences with music and goosebumps? Did I mention some things you recognised or can you add other occasions? I’m curious 🙂

xx

Nathalie