Performance: ur doin it rong...

Okay, so let me tell you about this show I went to last night. I won’t say where it was or who was performing, as when I do that it tends to come back and bite me in the ass. But suffice to say that it was one of those nights where you look around and just say to yourself “well, this is a sad state of affairs right here.”

The issue at hand is thus: when you combine the words “performance” and “art” in to “Performance Art,” it apparently gives you license to have no skills, yet still receive admiration. I find this whole thing faintly ironic, inasmuch as all performance is necessarily art, and most art is performance. Yet when you call it “performance art,” it opens up a whole new thing, where neither performance nor art actually occur, at least by anything I’m able to measure it by.

I’d like to think of myself as a fairly well-rounded individual, when it comes to the ability to perceive art. While it’s true that I’m pretty jaded vis-a-vis the performance of live music, having sat through several thousand shows by virtue of my twin careers as a musician and lighting director/designer (the latter thankfully now no longer part of my skill set), I think I’m astute enough to know “good” when I see it, whether I like the music or not.

Last night, I cracked the local weekly arts-n-entertainment rag, and noticed there was a show that was described as “live electronic music with visuals.” Now, I’d never heard of any of the acts, and I certainly didn’t expect Juno Reactor or Underworld-scale shit, but I think with a description like that, most of us would conjure a mental image of a nightclub setting, with, well, visuals and live electronic music.

On the one hand, what it turned out to be did actually fit that description. On the other, when you hear the words “canned food,” you don’t necessarily automatically think of this, do you? (Although you will now and forever more, and you can thank me for that.) The performance, taking the “art” aspect out of it, which took place in a fairly nice venue with a good PA and room to move, consisted of a person sitting at a table. Upon the table was placed a Phattboxx 2300. The person sat there for roughly 45 minutes, poking out fair-to-middling grooves (and I use that word with its loosest possible connotations) without pause, while a bedsheet tied up behind the performer showed what I assume was a video of out-of-focus headlights going by.

The audience, god bless ’em, was at rapt attention the entire time, and responded at the end of the set with long and loud applause and cheering. This was the most intriguing thing to me. If this had been a proper dance club and a proper live PA, the performer would have been booed off the stage maybe 3 minutes in. I’ve seen it happen, and if you frequent this sort of event, I imagine you have too. The interesting thing here was the context, because it was part of an evening of “performance art.” I won’t go in to the absolutely over-the-top pompous pretentiousness of the other acts, but suffice to say that they were more along the lines of what I expected for “performance art.”

At this juncture I could actually make a point, and if I did, it would be this: if you suck playing live, call what you do “performance art,” and the standards for what you need to do to entertain the audience drop fantastically. That isn’t really what I’m trying to say, though, so I’ll skip on by that for the now.

What I’m really trying to say is this: sitting at a table staring at the readout on your grooveboxx, occasionally poking a button, is not performance. It is barely art. The audience, bless their little hearts, are paying money to be entertained. Your job, as an entertainer, is to do something they’re not willing or able to do themselves. I do realize that we could easily veer off in to Jackson Pollock territory in the conversation that is about to ensue, but here’s what it comes down to: just because you can get away with a show made of losercakes covered in failsauce doesn’t mean you should. Push the envelope. At least knock over a mic stand or something. Living right on the edge of what can feasibly be delivered to the earholes of the people standing there staring at you is where the money shot is.

(A final note: if, for some reason, you’re able to deduce the show I am talking about, please don’t post the artist and venue. While it is, in fact, their fault, I don’t see how this post would help their situation any and I don’t necessarily bear them any ill will.)