I am in the middle of the circle of 16 people clapping playing a game called “Singing Hotspot” where the person in the middle sings a song that is influenced from a lyric, idea, singer, etc. from the previous singer (who in my case was singing “Cry me a River”) who is “tapped out” and replaced by another singer.
As I begin to sing, the clapping subsides and I hear someone say “I don’t know this song." It is also at this point that I realize that my memory of the lyrics isn’t so good and I can feel the Awkward Turtle swimming up my back. Moreover it also makes sense that the majority of the class wouldn’t know the song because LA isn’t a big Country music town, especially for one that came out when the majority of the class demographic was 4 years old when it debuted.
Awkwardness solidified let’s go back about four weeks.
I am sitting at my desk, going through what I would describe as the “meaning conflict” at work. I’m a front-end .NET developer for a non-IT team. My work is respected, highly valued and my development is highly prize in the organization. The trouble is that I sometimes get bored when things get slow. Having one of these moments led me to recall the time I enrolled in an Improv Workshop at the The Groundlings in Los Angeles. I did this because my artistic self loves to perform and that part of me needed to vent.
April 25th is the first day of the TTh 7:00-10:00pm class and I am pumped. So pumped that I opt to squeeze in some cardio. As I am on the elliptical I watch an episode of Whose Line is it Anyway? laughing my ass off for 23 minutes until it stops and I realize: Holy Shit! What did I just do? The last time I was on stage was 5 years ago and the last time I took an improv comedy class was 10 years ago!
On top of that I forgot that LA traffic can be a headache regardless of whether one is headed into or out of downtown. So with accidents on each of my routes, it is apparent that I will be at least 30 minutes late to the first class. As I exit the 101 at Western Avenue the critical internal monologue starts in: “This is your passion. How can you disrespect your passion by being late to the first class?”
I arrive a half hour late and have visions of a military ass chewing or an order to “stand by to standby” which is code for a beat down. Experienced enough to listen for applause signaling the conclusion of a scene, I can hear people clapping and gently open the door to the class...and I am applauded. Needless to say all that pent-up neurosis evaporated in an instant and my fears quickly diminished as I realized that everyone else was just like me, a student. There to learn.
Flash forward to May 4th and me back in a circle singing a song that no one knows and the awkward feeling that I am responsible for killing an energy level that was previously high. As I continue with the lyrics that I do know…”Down by the river on a Friday night, pyramid of cans in the pale moonlight.” I am tapped out by another student who begins to sing “Ain't no mountain high enough, Ain't no valley low enough, Ain't no river wide enough…” and the energy of the class is instantly restored now that everybody can sing along to a song they know.
Out of the hotspot and back in the circle the critical dialogue starts in again: “Jesus Ed, how could you think of a country song that no one can relate to?”
But that’s the lovely thing about improv, the notion that the fuck-ups are part of the show. The idea that there is never rejection, never denial nor any “you’re doing it wrong”. The only Cardinal sin is admitting defeat with: “Oh shit! I can’t think of anything.” rather than just blurting out the first thing that comes to one's mind. The natural result of that is knowing how and when to cultivate risk. Furthermore it is amazing to watch a group of people start with an arbitrary suggestion and from that randomly sown thought develop characters, relationships and situations like they spent hours writing them.
Yet another observation I made was that I’ve been living in a pretty well defined, well-constructed bubble. Since I hate commercials, I listen to very little radio and almost always find myself listening to the MP3s I’ve stored on my phone. The technology that makes things like Steemit possible also makes it easy to grow out of touch with pop culture and indulge myself with the nostalgic arrogance of a Gen Xer. In the end it is the desire to connect with my audience and shoot for laughs by making myself aware that “That’s what I like” by Bruno Mars and “Shape of You” by Ed Sheeran are the current 1st and 2nd place on the Top 40.
The reason I titled this bLog “Improv for Smarties” is because one can leverage the following tenets of improv and transmute them into what ever facet of their lives they wish. These tenants are:
1) Take the emotion up to a 10
2) Go with your first instinct/gut feeling
3) Always commit, Commit, COMMIT to the choices you made until the lights go off.
...and from my own experience the following things are completely useless when striving for creativity:
1) Negative internal dialogue
2) Self-doubt
3) If it doesn’t cost you your life or money (or someone else’s) then take a damn risk!
Final Note: My first instructor Sean Hogan had the opportunity to perform in the Groundlings Sunday performance with Will Ferrell right before he got picked-up by SNL. His observations about this household name were the following: “He’s an OK performer and an OK sketch writer. But what separated him from everyone else was that when the lights came on he was pedal to the medal 100% energy, 110% committed until the lights went off.”
Here’s to thinking on one's feet for laughs. Here’s to improv comedy!
