When I Used to Be Brave Enough to Play Live

When I Used to Be Brave Enough to Play Live

The Finsbury, London — 10 May 2023

I found some old photos recently that made me wonder slightly what happened to me.

They’re from an open mic night at The Finsbury back in May 2023. There I am, guitar in hand, actually standing in front of real people and playing music.

Voluntarily.

Which feels slightly unbelievable now.

I wasn’t exactly confident back then. I remember being ridiculously nervous beforehand. I’d spend the whole day questioning why I’d agreed to do it, then sit waiting for my turn wondering whether quietly leaving without telling anyone would be socially acceptable.

But somehow, when my name was called, I’d get up and play.

And I did this more than once.

Open mic nights became something I occasionally forced myself to do. I’d take my guitar, find a corner to hide in until it was my turn, play a few songs and then experience that lovely mixture of relief and adrenaline afterwards.

The strange thing is that I think that version of me was braver than I realised.

Because I’m not sure I could do it now.

Somewhere along the way, I lost it

Music has become a much bigger part of my life again recently.

I’m writing more. I’m recording. I’m releasing songs. I’m putting videos online. I’m sharing considerably more of myself with considerably more people than were ever sitting in that little room at an open mic night.

And yet the idea of standing up with a guitar in front of twenty people now absolutely terrifies me.

Which makes no logical sense whatsoever.

I’ll happily upload something knowing thousands of strangers might watch it. But put twenty actual human beings six feet away from me and apparently my brain decides we’re facing an immediate existential threat.

Social media gives you somewhere to hide.

You can record something again. You can choose what you share. You don’t have to watch somebody’s face while they decide whether they like your song.

Live music doesn’t give you any of that protection.

It’s just you.

I miss her a little bit

Looking at these photos, though, I’m quite fond of 2023 Darla.

She didn’t know whether she was particularly good.

She certainly wasn’t releasing music.

There was no Spotify, no YouTube channel, no worrying about streams or subscribers or algorithms.

She just had some songs, a guitar and enough misplaced courage to put her name down on an open mic list.

And then, when somebody called her name, she walked up there.

I think I’ve somehow become simultaneously more confident and less brave since then.

I’m much happier sharing my music now. I’m probably more comfortable with myself generally. And I certainly believe in the songs more than I did back then.

But that particular bit of courage — walking into a pub carrying a guitar and knowing that shortly afterwards you’re going to have to play it in front of strangers — seems to have disappeared somewhere.

I’d quite like it back.

Maybe one day?

I’m not announcing a return to open mic nights here. Absolutely not. 😂

Even writing that sentence made me nervous.

But seeing these pictures has made me think about it.

Because if the slightly awkward girl in these photos could do it on 10 May 2023, perhaps the slightly older, supposedly more confident version of her should be able to do it too.

Maybe.

One day.

Just don’t make me promise anything.

Darla x