One of the most exciting moments to come out of the
announcement of Bob Dylan's Nobel Laureate in Literature was not his long
silence or subsequent acceptance speech, but Patti Smith's singing "A Hard
Rain's A-Gonna Fall" at the 2016 Nobel Prize ceremony.
What's remarkable about her performance is that the super
star blanked on the lyrics, yet went on to sing a show-stopping rendition of an
already moving song she's known by heart since she was a teenager. After the
first verse she became disoriented and stopped. She then apologized and
expressed her nervousness. While nerves never go away, an unseasoned performer
would probably fake it and simply continue. I know I would.
In my experiences reading my own work and performing my
poetry, I've always felt compelled to keep going, even if I've made a mistake.
Somewhere along the line, I've been taught to follow an unwritten rule of keep
reading and performing, regardless of missing a word, sentence, stanza or
verse. Making mistakes happen to everyone. I know I've blanked out on words
that I've written, poems that I could usually recite anytime, anywhere. Part of
the writing life is having the opportunity to read your work aloud. With that,
comes the real possibility of skipping a phrase or pausing extra long, or taking
a sip of water while recomposing yourself.
I usually work through my nerves or blunders. Few people,
except for my husband, Steve who knows my work backwards and forwards, realize
my mistakes. However, singing alongside live musicians is less forgiving than
reading.
Patti Smith did an extraordinary thing by admitting her
nervousness and breaking the illusion of a perfect performance. I was in awe by
her performance and by her essay, "How Does It Feel," in the NewYorker.
In an even braver moment explaining how she felt afterwards,
she details what happened on stage. "Unaccustomed
to such an overwhelming case of nerves, I was unable to continue," she writes, " I hadn't forgotten the words that were now a part of me. I was simply
unable to draw them out."
Smith's essay was such an honest gift. As if the song
weren't enough, the essay lets us in on what she was thinking before, during,
and after her performance. All of my questions as to how she ended up choosing
the song and how she found the courage to stop and start again were answered.
She was asked to perform one of her own songs for the Nobel prize, but upon
hearing that Dylan had won, she changed her mind and sung a favorite of hers
and her late husband's.
The song's emotional and political gravitas speaks to
current events, especially the atrocities in Allepo. While the songs lyrics
include the words "I stumbled alongside of twelve misty mountains,"
and ends with "And I'll know my song well before I start singing,"
Smith acknowledges that that she entered the song in a way that made the hiccup
necessary and beautiful. In her 70 years, she is able to state the reason for
her calling: "Why do we commit our work: Why do we perform? It is above
all for the entertainment and transformation of the people. It is all for them.
"
2 comments:
What a moving performance! I like, too, that she stopped and admitted her nervousness, because, like you Melinda, I've always continued over the stumble. You've written a wonderful blog about authors reading their work, and yes, the mistakes are easier to cover than a singer's. But this particular performance will go down as a unique experience at the Nobels. We should take a tip from Patti's interruption of the song.
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