Songwriter ~ Producer ~ Performer
(observations from the piano bench)
Everyone has their preference. People ask me which I prefer, and I usually tell them "a little of both". I prefer to memorize songs as much as possible and use index cards or "fake book" chord sheets to jog my memory. I carry a lot of these things with me to the gigs, but I use them very seldom. Reading sheet music keeps me from looking around at the audience.
When I started out as a piano student, I learned to sight-read from sheet music for about a year. Then when I was 9 years old, I was left on my own to either abandon music altogether or do my own research--so I started going through my mom's sheet music collection (she had an impressive amount since she had been a professional singer at one time). It was challenging but I learned an appreciation for Hoagy Carmichael, Rogers and Hammerstein, and George Gershwin, along with some of the other Tin Pan Alley songwriters from the early 20th Century.
By the following year, pop radio caught my attention and the great hits of the mid-1960s had me snapping my fingers and singing along. So I bought records and brought them home, playing them over and over to learn songs by ear. With the help of the Beatles, Smokey Robinson, Joni Mitchell, The Temptations, Ray Charles and a few others I had mastered a new discipline, figuring out bass lines with my left hand and how to fill in arrangements with my right hand (like mimicking the horn parts from a Motown record or the guitar line from a Cream or Jimi Hendrix record). I found all this much more interesting than my earlier training, probably because I was a pre-teen and then teenager and many of the contemporary radio hits seemed relevant to my life.
When I got into bands to sing and play keyboards, we copied songs by Wilson Pickett, the Beach Boys, the Rolling Stones, Otis Redding, Jefferson Airplane, The Supremes, The Rascals, etc....We sat down and figured out some pretty complex stuff, like Blood, Sweat & Tears or early Chicago records--and did it all by ear. The late 60s had us jumping from Mamas and Papas rich harmonies to Sly and The Family Stone flat out funk. I listened and I learned.
For me, learning songs by ear is easier and I get a feel for the music more quickly. Even today, after playing and singing professionally for many decades, I find sheet music a struggle, unless I've heard the piece so many times that it seems like second nature. For instance, Debussy's "Claire de Lune" is one of my favorite pieces and a frequent request, but when I first got the sheet music in front of me, it took me a whole afternoon just to play it all the way through. Then it took weeks to memorize...but I wanted to play it without staring at the sheet music. It was worth the effort. I enjoy it and so does the audience.
Do I have a preference? I admit, I'd rather hear the the song first rather than read it. But then, in my business, I'm pretty much playing it by ear all the time.
scott berry
is for my ramblings on some of what
I've learned at my gigs
(At least I'm
having fun at work...)
past articles...
at ADAIR'S RESTAURANT - June 2006
People sometimes ask if I've written any songs. In fact, I've written hundreds of compositions (with and without lyrics) and I like to share them with people. I've even self-produced some CDs and sell them at my gigs. I urge every composer to show the world your songs--keep at it--hang in there--don't give up. BUT at most of my gigs, I don't push my original music too hard, and I'll tell you why.
I've performed in New York, New Orleans, Nashville, Los Angeles and numerous other cities around the USA. Unless the gig is a "showcase" for original talent (which usually doesn't pay anything) or a special situation where I'm expected to play all original songs (which, again, probably pays little or nothing), I stick mostly to songs familiar to the public. I do play an original song or several throughout my typical evening's performance, if the audience seems open to the idea. Sometimes a friend in the audience requests an original song they've heard me perform before.
When I was younger, I was grabbing for the gold ring. I had more than one band backing me up as I tried to break in to big time showbiz. I even had a manger in New York and sang my songs everywhere I could in the interest of furthering my career and becoming the next Billy Joel/Stevie Wonder/James Taylor/Neil Diamond (fill in another name if you think it fits). I beat my head against that wall for a long time, until I decided it "wasn't my time" or I wasn't ready to "make it" in showbiz.The Big Time eluded me and I wasn't even making cab fare.
I still had to earn a living by playing for low wages and tips in restaurants and lounges. Then one day, an older veteran of these musical battles told me something I will never forget: "Kid, learn a hundred songs and you'll get work. Learn a thousand songs and you'll never stop working." It took a few years, but I know well over a thousand songs and it taught me more than just songs--it taught me humility.There are so many good songwriters that came before me that it's just plain arrogant to cling to the idea that "my songs" are the only songs I'll play.
My job is not to force my songs on an unsuspecting group of folks who just came to have a good time. I slip them in every now and then to see if people like them. If the reponse is less than enthusiastic, I just fall back on a good old Nat King Cole or Beatles tune and remind myself of those geniuses who preceded me and gave me my musical education (whether they knew it or not) and I am grateful.
My teachers are not just every performer and songwriter on every record I ever learned, but also every audience I have ever played for, whether it's an audition or a "showcase" or a paid performance. I feel if I'm not learning, I'm not doing it right.
So if you hear me playing one of my original songs some night, thanks for listening. I get to do what most people do not: I do what I love for a living. That's pretty original all by itself.
scott berry
Many accuse me of being hard to categorize. "Are you a jazz musician?" "What kind of music do you play?" "What's your favorite kind of music?"
I can't answer those questions easily because my moods--and therefore the styles of music that appeal to me--are always changing. I play and write in styles ranging from Broadway show tunes to Country music, from Latin to Ragtime to New Age to Blues, Jazz and Rock'n'Roll...and, yes, Classical music as well. I also write and perform children's music, which can run the gamut of all those styles I just mentioned, since a kid has no limit to his or her imagination.
In fact, one of my techniques when I'm working is to jump from one genre of music to another with each song for at least the first few songs each night. I know that by doing this, I will get a response frome someone, whether positive or negative. From there I can proceed down certain avenues that others in the room are willing to travel along with me. So, if I sing a Duke Ellington tune, followed by Elvis, followed by "Claire de Lune", there is truly a method to my madness: I am seeking an audience reaction with each piece of music that allows me to sense where to go with my next song. I'm trying to communicate in my own gentle fashion and get the audience involved in the musical decision-making process.
As I've mentioned in an earlier article, most communication is non-verbal, especially in the arts. The owner of the establishment where I perform does not expect me to use the microphone for talking: I was not hired to talk. So, "style jumping" is a way to get my message across, and the message is: "Show me that you like this and I'll give you some more of the same."
As Louis Armstrong once said, "There are only two kinds of music...GOOD and BAD."
I try and remember that I'm there for the audience--not the other way around. Most of the time, you choose a location for your night out based on a combination of things. You're there for the food, the location, the ambience, whatever... but generally I'm not the "headline" when I'm working in a restaurant or hotel lobby. I just happen to be the entertainer on the night you chose to come. Even if I were headlining, I wouldn't forget my basic ground rules: lay down a comfortable atmosphere and make them smile.
To paraphrase Fats Waller, "Find out what they want and give it to 'em."
scott berry
When I perfom, I'm singing a song, playing the accompaniment and looking around the room for friendly faces to make eye contact. It sounds like a balancing act--and maybe it is--but I like to use the analogy of driving a car to describe it. When you drive a car, you not only press the accelerator or the brakes as needed, but you have your hands on the steering wheel and your eyes moving from the road in front of you to the rear and side view mirrors. You're constantly adjusting to conditions as you go.
As a performer, you have to be prepared for distractions. You may hear breaking dishes, phones going off, babies crying, etc. I tend to focus myself on singing the song while letting my hands find their own way on the piano, allowing for the fluid situations occuring in most restaurants and nightclubs from moment to moment. People have asked how I can sing and play at the same time...usually while I'm singing and playing. Then I'm answering questions at the same time I'm singing and playing!
I actually had one guy walk up to me while singing an Elton John song and ask me, "Do you know any Sinatra?" I smiled and nodded while continuing to sing and trying not to lose my place. His next question was: "Which Sinatra songs do you know?" To avoid what sounds like a "train wreck" in the music, I keep playing, but I lean off mike and say, "Oh, you know, Summerwind, Witchcraft..." and then jump back to singing the next line of the song. And he wants to know more, of course. On my next breath--between lyrics--I say, "Can you wait just a minute, please?" and he suddenly gets it. "Oh, yeah...I'll come back in a minute."
The longer I do this professionally, the more prepared I am for these little surprises. Like a flight attendant in a situation that has suddenly become dangerously non-routine, somehow your training just kicks in and you do the right things in the right sequence. No, I don't save lives, but it's critical that I "keep the room", as we say in show biz--that is, not losing control of the musical atmosphere I'm trying to create. I know that breaking the flow would be flirting with danger.
Why do you think those piano players in the old Western movies keep playing during a bar brawl? Once the distraction is over, the music's got to bring everybody back to feeling good, which is why they came to the saloon in the first place.
A few years ago, while playing on Bourbon Street, I played during an arrest: while I was performing on stage, a young man with a backpack came running into the bar, followed a few steps behind by cops--with guns drawn! I kept on playing, in spite of a momentary impulse to stop and duck for cover. When they brought him out of the men's room (where you could hear the sound of the toilet flushing), one cop had a fat, wet baggie full of dried green leaves (presumably an illegal substance). Somehow, my instincts took over and I just kept on playing. I remember when I finished the song about a minute later I got a big round of applause and a tip from every patron at the bar.
I love this job because it's more fun than grownups should have.
scott berry
I noticed the correlation between my volume and the crowd's noise level when I was younger, but my philosophy then was: just sing louder and they'll shut up. Not so. Ever try that during an argument? The more you scream the more the other person yells back at you.
As the years have gone by, I've learned to soften my approach. Performance is an exercise in diplomacy, after all. I'm trying to get people to like me and tell me what they want (by way of requests). And in turn, we communicate with each other in a friendly manner, as I begin to understand the likes and dislikes of the people in the room.
It's a relationship--the bond between audience and performer--and it's really up to the musician to set the tone of the "conversation". And yes, it's really a conversation -- even though I'm the one with the microphone-- because I'm the first one to "speak" and the audience "answers" with applause and requests (and maybe even something in my tip jar).
The lesson here is similar to the old Aesop fable about the North wind and the South wind. The North wind tries to get a man to take off his coat by whipping up a stiff breeze to blow it off. When that doesn't work, he angrily throws some sleet and snow into the mix, which makes the man hold his coat that much tighter. Then the South wind gets his turn. He gently blows the clouds away so that the sun comes shining down and warms the man up until he gradually opens his coat and then takes it off himself.
My philosophy: Make it warm and comfortable and people will relax and be receptive.
scott berry