Hello. This is fukko, also known as Fujishima from Jibunrashiku LLC. Yesterday, I sang as a singer-songwriter on stage at the Smile Marche held in Kobe Harborland. Today, I'd like to talk about what I felt again on this stage, and a significant "certain realization" I had.
Actually, a Shy Person with Excessive Nerves, Afraid of Attention
Actually, I'm quite a shy person by nature. As a child, during piano or ballet recitals, I would get so nervous that my vision blurred, or the fine hairs on the back of my hands would stand on end. My aversion to standing in front of people was truly deep-seated.
Despite that, I started working as a singer-songwriter in 2018, and standing in front of people felt like a torture akin to "public execution." Even though I wanted to be heard, I was extremely nervous on stage. Lyrics would fly out of my head, or I'd stumble over them... But as my opportunities to perform on stage increased, I became aware of a certain "selfish thought." That is, the emotion of "nervousness" is actually an ego on the part of the performer.
Audiences must be expecting whether the performer can "entertain them," rather than whether their singing is "good or bad." Thinking "What if I fail?" or "What if I'm judged?" is entirely a self-centered thought from the performer's perspective. My nervousness brings no benefit to the audience. Or to myself. In other words, nobody ends up happy (lol).
"Just Do It Appropriately" — A Golden Piece of Advice from a Senior
When I showed the video of my birthday live last year to a senior musician who couldn't attend, he called me and gave me this advice:
"I watched it! You're so incredibly nervous, it made me nervous just watching you (lol). Just do it appropriately. Fukko-chan, you're too serious. 'Appropriately' doesn't mean carelessly, you know. It means 'in a suitable state.' Your lyrics and music are good, all that's left is your stage presence."
These words struck me. I realized, "I'm losing out by being nervous. I'm not performing at my full potential." I reaffirmed that what's more important than making lyrical mistakes is delivering the song to the audience, that feeling. It truly resonated with me. Come to think of it, unless they're an avid fan, no one would even notice a mistake in the lyrics, right?
To the Stage with a "Happy!" Feeling
And yesterday, the stage at Kobe Harborland was a temporary stage at an event venue. People attending the event were there for the market. It was a completely unfamiliar environment for me. But precisely because of that, I cast aside my "nervousness" and stood on stage.
"Right now, I'm singing a song I created, in front of people. This is such a happy thing. Everyone can listen to this song. I can deliver it. Happy!"
I stood on stage with such a pure feeling. Then, strangely, my vision became clear. The view of the audience from the stage looked beautiful, like a scene from a movie. It might also be influenced by the movie "Kokuhou" I watched on Friday (how audacious💦), but I truly felt that this view, visible only to those standing on stage, is a treasure unique to performers. It's burned into my memory.
What's Important for the Best Performance
Furthermore, what's important when performing on stage is giving your best. For that, I strongly felt again that preparation before going on stage and your mindset on the day are indispensable.
Yesterday, since my performance was from 3 PM, I was able to rehearse thoroughly in my home studio in the morning. After doing neck massages, shoulder rotations, tongue exercises, and stretches taught by jazz vocalist Hiromi-san, I practiced my songs. I also did image training in the car on the way there.
Furthermore, on the day, I usually left everything to the sound engineer and often mumbled because I didn't understand, but this time I was able to specifically communicate, "I'd like a bit more reverb."
And the presence of those who went out of their way to come and support me, the trustworthy organizer and vocalist Bako-san, support pianist Masanobu Takano, fellow performers who watched over me, and my partner who cheered me on from close by. These feelings of security strengthened my heart.
Even the torturous heat on stage stopped bothering me in an instant. Although my head became hazy from the heat and I made a mistake in the lyrics mid-song, I calmly and "appropriately" reinserted the lyrics and got through it.
I Want to Deliver This Song
Actually, there was a mishap. A sudden gust of wind from the harbor scattered Takano-san's piano sheet music all at once, and for a moment, one of the five songs went missing. But right after I decided, based on the thought that "only what's necessary happens," to "go with four songs," someone miraculously appeared to deliver the sheet music, and the fourth song was restored! I performed all five songs as planned.
For every song, I looked at each person's face, also paying attention to those watching from the second floor, and sang carefully. Foreigners making a "thumbs up" pose while filming, Japanese people waving their hands, Jane and her child who came to watch. As I looked at each of their faces, I was able to sing with feelings of gratitude, "Thank you for listening," and "I will deliver it properly."
The day before, I felt anxious due to sneezing and a runny nose, but I think it was good that I decided in my heart to "perform" and prepared myself. On the day, "talking to my stomach (as advised by the aforementioned Hiromi-san)" was also effective, I believe.
The Feeling of Definitely Reaching Them and Future Determination
As a result, people gradually gathered from the middle of the first song. Despite the scorching sun, there were people who came close to the stage to listen, people who filmed, and a group of foreigners nodding while taking videos. It was a moment when I truly felt my song was definitely reaching them.
Bako-san praised me saying, "You've gotten much better than last month!", and many people told me, "The lyrics were great," and "It resonated with my heart." While technique is certainly important, it was a stage where I strongly felt that "preparation" and "the mindset on the day" for that technique are paramount.
It might be an ox's pace, or rather, a turtle's pace, but I have taken another step forward. I want to cherish this small progress and continue to nurture "the singing me." And I strongly resolved to practice even more diligently and refine my technique.
Looking up at the soap bubbles floating in the Harborland sky, I sang thinking, "How incredibly happy I am!" It became an unforgettable stage.