Amy Lu's View

I. Can’t. Do. This. 

That thought kept pounding through my being like a drum beat, which I guess was appropriate, as I was also literally playing the drums. But it wasn’t the drum playing I was worried about–at least not so worried that I didn’t think I could go–but the drumming while singing lead during the impending song on our set list that had me freaking out because I was so nervous.

I love performing. I love drumming. I love singing. So why was I almost paralyzed with performance anxiety at our recent Pigeons From Hell gig at Richfield PennFest, a local outdoor neighborhood festival? 

I’m always nervous to some extent when I attempt to play drums and sing, especially the song in question, a cover of an 80’s song called “Shelter” by the band Lone Justice. (You probably don’t know it, even if you were alive in the 80’s, but it’s one of my favorite songs ever and I’m happy to tell you all about it whenever you’d like). I love that we do the song and don’t want to take it out of rotation, but it’s a challenging song for me on many levels. 

But mostly, I was completely discombobulated by the PennFest environment. I’m just not used to performing music in front of so many people that I can see (in an inside setting the stage lights usually hide the audience), even if, or maybe especially if, I know they are just milling around and not necessarily wanting to hear some random band. 

I was also extra amped knowing that the local Hennepin County Library branch had a booth just down the street, so I would also be subjecting co-workers (although we don’t work together on a daily basis) to my dubious musical antics. 

So, I was very tempted to cry out, “Boys, we’ve got to skip this song” (yes, I call my bandmates who are all over 50 “boys,” at least in my head) but I didn’t. Maybe I should have, but instead I mustered up my courage and audacity and we performed “Shelter.” We even did it twice–as we had a super long time to play, we cycled through some of our songs twice. I was slightly less nervous (and buzzed) the second time. 

The things about PennFest that made me so nervous also made it wonderful and amazing (and rather weird and surreal). It was so much fun watching the people wandering by, and to see that some were listening, and sometimes even dancing. Okay, mostly, it was kids–who probablhy would have danced to anything–who were dancing, but I fully embraced my inner story that I was inspiring girls who noticed “Hey, there’s a girl drummer!” (I was also happy to embrace my companion inner story that I was “intriguing”  the older guys wandering by who were thinking, “Hey, there’s a lady drummer!”) 

And the dogs. So. Many. Cute. Dogs. I blame our only real performance melt-down on my distraction over seeing an unbelievably adorable mini-dachshund. 

I was also a little frazzled going into the event because I didn’t know what to expect. Instead of getting a set time to play, we were scheduled to play the entire FOUR hours of the event. We assumed we weren’t expected to actually play that whole time, but I wanted to know what our parameters were. And yes, I’m also a huge rule follower, and I wanted to make sure I was following the rules. As one of our favorite podcast hosts (Andrew from “TBTL”) would say, I didn’t want to get hollered at.

We ended up beginning our set around 2:00. We needed to wait until Chad arrived and got settled after a morning stint giving a sermon two hours away in Hanska (yes, Minister in the Morning, Rockstar in the Afternoon) and we had a brief, but intense, moment of panic when the generator wasn’t working (a reset button was involved). We played until about 4:45, with a half hour break in there while our bandmate John tried to find the beer tent.

(Thankfully, we were conveniently located close, but not too close, to some port-a-potties so I never had to wander away too far). 

We also took a break in an effort to be polite to our neighbors at the event who consisted of a variety of cultural dance troupes. Being next to the dancers actually stressed me out quite a bit–not because I don’t like dancers, but I felt extremely guilty because I’m sure our music overpowered the music they were dancing to and made their lives difficult. 

I was also super sensitive because one of the dancers asked us before we even started playing–we were just warming up at checking sound levels at the time–”How long are you going to be noodling around?” Oh boy, if he was wondering about our warm-up, that couldn’t bode well for our actual playing. And yeah, I not only felt guilty but also a bit peeved and defensive that he referred to our musical activity as “noodling.” 

This dancer-related anxiety was also NOT helped when a seemingly drunk and old, definitely shirtless guy harangued us a bit because all the musical acts were so close together. “Not our decision, dude!”

I honestly don’t know how upset the dancers were, or even if they were upset at all. It’s not like they tried to beat us up after the event or threw rotten vegetables at us. And it really WASN’T my decision to place them next to us. 

Besides the shirtless senior sage, we also had a couple of interesting interactions with the public. One guy came right up behind me, WHILE WE WERE IN THE MIDDLE OF PLAYING A SONG, and asked me if we knew any Johnny Cash. (“No,” and even if we did, that was not the way to persuade us to play it). 

Another guy said he’d give us $5 if we played a Billy Joel song. Sorry, we don’t have anything against Billy Joel, but we just don’t have a deep repertoire. So, we had to settle with only getting $11 in our tip jar. (At least one of those dollars came from a young girl–just about the cutest thing ever. Perhaps a tie with the mini-dachshund). 

I was also intrigued by all the people who took photos and videos of us–with devices that looked like professional cameras and cell phones. I assume the professionals were somehow commissioned by the event organizers or with local media. I would LOVE to see any photos they took, but nothing has emerged on Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter. 

I’m a little more confused and even skeptical about those who had cell phones. Were we really that interesting? Or, as Chad suggested, we’re they sharing with friends in a “Get a load of this train wreck” glee?

We DID have several people ask us for our band name–maybe to make sure they avoid us in the future? Whatever the reason, good motivation to up our social media game. (We were slightly incognito at this event and listed ourselves as “The Pigeons.” We thought “Pigeons From Hell” might offend the family-friendly sensibilities of the organizers. We even avoided using my regular performance drum set with the “Pigeons From Hell” logo on it). 

If any dancers from the day are harboring any residual resentment, our lack of clear branding will make it harder for them to hunt us down and exact revenge.