Are You Trying Too Hard?
Man is most nearly himself when he achieves the seriousness of a child at play. — Heraclitus
Photo by Clettes Presley
A Tale of False Starts
July 5th,1954. A humid Monday night in Memphis, Tennessee. In a small, one-room studio at 706 Union Ave., the young Elvis Presley is trying too hard.
He‘s spent all evening crooning ballads into that chrome-plated Memphis Recording Service microphone, and now, it’s getting late. Take after take, he steps through each verse like a kid who’s been told to keep his shoes off grandma’s precious white rug.
Elvis carefully sings:
I saw the harbor lights
They only told me we were parting
The same old harbor lights that once brought you to me.
The bright searchlight voice illuminates each line, picking through the words for some flicker of glittering life, something undiscovered, there, hiding beneath the reeds of the song. Where is it?
Again. Snail-paced. Elvis sounds thin and far away:
I watched the harbor lights
How could I help it?
Tears were starting.
Good-bye to golden nights
Beside the silvery seas.
Is he imitating Guy Lombardo or the Ink Spots?
The clock tics. He wipes a forearm across his sweaty brow. Tries another mawkish melody. This time, with more gusto:
I love you because you understand dear
Every single thing I try to do.
You’re always there to lend a helping hand, dear.
I love you most of all because you’re you.
Elvis wrings this drippy tune dry. He even whistles like Bing Crosby.
The clock tics. Behind his eyes, there’s something else going on. Someone, there, in the dark, watching the session unfold upon a flickering mental movie screen. It’s the Inner Elvis, way up in the front row, eating popcorn, wisecracking in a critical voice:
Geez, kid! Is that all you’ve got? That’s not gonna’ cut it.
Sam Phillips, studio owner and producer, feels the frustration gathering. A keen weatherman of human nature, he’s seen these clouds before. He knows this tension could easily rain desperation on the room if he doesn’t do something. But, what?
Sam ponders: Should we call it a night Come back tomorrow? Try another tune? What to do?
Sam shouts out from the control room: Hey, boys. Let’s take a break!
The Magic of Goofing Around
Legendary actor, Robert DeNiro, has observed:
“A lot of young actors have the idea that, ‘I’ve got to do this right. There’s a right way to do this.’ But there’s no right or wrong. … The most important thing for actors — and not just actors, but everybody — is to feel loose enough to create what you want to create, and be free to try anything.”
Back at the studio, Elvis paces in a corner. He’s restless. He shakes out his arms, swings that acoustic guitar up at an angle. He’s a bundle of nerves. He begins to strum something unplanned, unrehearsed, untamed.
For a moment, he completely forgets himself. For a moment, he feels free to try anything. For a moment, Elvis begins to sing just for fun.
Well, that’s all right now mama
That’s all right for you,
That’s all right now mama
Anyway you do …
Guitarist, Scotty Moore, recalled the magic flash like this:
“All of a sudden, Elvis just started singing this song, jumping around and acting the fool, and then Bill picked up his bass, and he started acting the fool, too, and I started playing with them.”
As Elvis himself remembered: “this song popped into my mind that I had heard years ago, and I started kidding around with [it].”
Acting the fool. Kidding around. Hear how they describe the experience? They sound almost embarrassed. Apologetic. Afraid somebody might call them out for being clownish, too loose, too unbuttoned, too jubilant. After all, there’s serious business to do. It’s as if a voice bubble above them read: Hey, man. We’re just having a lark. We’ll get back to the real work soon.
(Incredible, right?)
Let’s zoom back again: Inside the control booth, Sam Phillips is listening like radar. He perks up. He hears their wonderful ruckus. He feels the heavy mood turn suddenly sunny. He sticks his head out the door and asks: “What are you doing?”. The boys tellingly respond, “We don’t know”.
“Well, back up,” Sam says. “Try to find a place to start, and do it again.”
Sam knew that THIS was the jolt they had been hunting for. This was something special. An opportunity! That mysterious instant when surprise walks into the room, you stop trying too hard, the clock stops and you discover new, thrilling possibilities. In a moment of goofing around, everything can miraculously change.
Years later, Bill Black reflected:
“We couldn’t believe it was us. It just sounded sort of raw and ragged. We thought it was exciting, but what was it? It was just so completely different.”
Five Ways to Stop Trying Too Hard
How often do you feel loose enough to try anything? How often are you surprised and energized by your music making?
Some suggestions:
- Assume Nothing
You know how it’s going to go before it’s even begun. Really? Whether a song, a solo or a jam session, resist trying to control the moment. Let go. Listen. Invite surprise to the party. Novelist Muriel Barbery has cautioned that when “we never look beyond our assumptions … we have given up trying to meet others; we just meet ourselves.” - Suspend judgment
“ The first skill to learn is the art of letting go the human inclination to judge ourselves and our performance as either good or bad,” writes coach Tim Gallwey in The Inner Game of Tennis. “Letting go of the judging process is a basic key to the Inner Game … When we unlearn how to be judgmental, it is possible to achieve spontaneous, focused play.” - Cultivate unknowing
We think we know. But do we? “The real artist’s work is a surprise to himself,” observes painter Robert Henri. - Play the fool
“When in doubt, make a fool of yourself,” writes humorist Cynthia Heimel. “There is a microscopically thin line between being brilliantly creative and acting like the most gigantic idiot on earth. So what the hell, leap.” - Say, ‘Yes’
“There are people who prefer to say ‘yes’ and there are people who prefer to say ‘no’. Those who say ‘yes’ are rewarded by the adventures they have. Those who say ‘no’ are rewarded by the safety they attain.” — Keith Jonestone, Impro
At Orbital Music Park we want to help you connect musically. Whatever your skill level, instrument or style, we want you to make more music. Our mission is to help you experience the magic of music making with new people in a friendly, energizing space.
Our vision includes a warehouse filled with soundproof living rooms, a library of cool instruments, stages, café bar and a shop. Performance spaces designed for comfort, conversation and privacy. Inspired by the classic ruin pubs of Europe, each room is a quirky mix of random furniture, art and light.
Until we open, we’re hosting match events at Art Works in Richmond.
What we’re listening to:
- Elvis Presley, A Boy from Tupelo: The Complete 1953–1955 Recordings
What we’re reading
- Timothy Gallwey, The Inner Game of Tennis
- Muriel Barbery, The Elegance of the Hedgehog
- Keith Johnestone, Impro: Improvisation and the Theater
- Robert Henri, The Art Spirit
What we’re watching:
