That title probably has you thinking, “Brent, what is this LinkedIn bull-hockey?” You're probably onto something. However, this has been on my mind recently, and I’d rather share it here than on LinkedIn.
“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” - Maya Angelou
That title probably has you thinking, “Brent, what is this LinkedIn bull-hockey?” You're probably onto something. However, this has been on my mind recently, and I’d rather share it here than on LinkedIn.
Who I'm turning into as a person.
While performing at Big Fish Cider this past weekend, a fellow named Miles approached me and asked if he could get his conga drums out of the car and join me for some songs. Since I didn’t know Miles and hadn’t seen him perform before, I started low and offered “let’s try a song.” The first jam was so fun that I asked him to stay up for another. Miles ended up sitting in on one-third of my remaining songs after this.
I had a blast playing with Miles. He was a great drummer, and he brought something fun and unique to the show. When I left Big Fish Cider that evening, I realized that I wouldn't have had nearly as good of a time if I hadn't said "Yes" when Miles asked to perform with me.
This made me think about how my attitude has grown and changed over the years. I’m usually reluctant to let people join me on stage without at least a rehearsal (and I use stage very loosely for the places I play). When I was starting out as a young solo musician, I constantly felt that I needed to prove myself. I feared that letting a stranger sit in could be a risk.
That idea was ridiculous in hindsight - it's not that serious. Still, I carried this attitude everywhere and tried to avoid the situation at all costs. I was taking myself way too seriously for a guy who was singing cover songs in bars. The pandemic allowed me to take a step back and recognize this, and I gradually began to open up to the idea a bit more.
Me stepping back and finding some perspective.
Between July and September 2021, I spent every Monday performing at a welcome event at Massanutten Resort. During one session, a visitor approached me and asked if she could sing a song with me. She sang “Country Roads, Take Me Home” with me while her husband filmed on his iPhone. Her performance wasn’t going to win a CMA award (or even a CMT), but it brought her so much joy to get up and sing. She thanked me profusely afterward, and it felt good to make a stranger happy. If I could make someone’s day by just doing this, why wouldn’t I say yes?
Sometimes an unknown guest performer can be a welcome surprise. At another gig I had a few weeks later, a bachelor party approached me and asked if the groom-to-be Justin could sing “Tennessee Whiskey” with me. Given the context, I wasn’t expecting much but still reluctantly agreed. I couldn’t have judged the situation worse - Justin had an incredible voice and brought the whole place down. I hope he’ll turn up at another one of my gigs one day and sing with me again.
These experiences have led me to understand the tremendous power of saying “Yes.” Yes to new experiences, yes to risks, yes to meeting new people, and yes to making people happy. I sometimes need to remember that this is supposed to be fun. My good friend Jesse once said to me “art isn’t a competition,” and that’s stuck with me. I want to be successful, yes, but success is meaningless if there’s no joy in it. I’ve always found spontaneity exciting.
You shouldn’t say yes to everything. In the 2008 comedy film Yes Man (a film I watched once in fifth grade and am now trying to use to make a point 14 years later), Jim Carrey’s character discovers what a mess you can get yourself into if you say yes to absolutely everything. Situations that could result in injury or distress to yourself are best avoided. But when the stakes aren’t high and there's a chance for something beautiful to happen, why not set your ego aside and open yourself up to new experiences and fun? I had a great time this past weekend performing with a musician I had just met, and I’d do it again.
It took me fourteen years to realize that this movie's title was a play on words. Unbelievable. What authority do I claim to have to tell anyone anything at all?
I’m only speaking for myself here. Don’t expect every musician you see at your local winery to feel the same way and hand you the microphone. But if you’re a musician (I know a few of you are), consider saying “Yes” next time someone asks to sing their favorite song with you. No matter how it goes, you gave it a chance and hopefully helped to make somebody’s day brighter.
