Persona non grata

..he
was as funny as another stand-up comedian he despised. I can see how that might
be considered as fundamentally shallow, but if Seinfeld the stand-up comedian
is actually Seinfeld the man’s complementary personality, you can see
how it can become a very personal issue.
Then there’s the (locally) celebrated example of The Vines’ singer,
where a diagnosis of Asperger’s syndrome circumvented a potentially damaging
decision in an assault case. When I first read about the case I thought that
being on the road with a band might be the last sort of lifestyle you’d
choose when you have a condition that demands the security blanket of routine
above all else. But, when I thought about it in the light of my own experience,
I realised the security blanket element is never stronger than when you’re
on stage with a group of fellow musicians. In fact, the musical group ethos
is probably the most comforting and secure environment you’ll find on
the planet, with the characteristic group humour (remember The Beatles press
interviews?) being just one clue to the tight-knit conformity that characterises
a band on the road.
Of course, when it all goes wrong, it can be far worse than a marriage breakdown,
(think Spinal Tap and The Bad News Tour) – but that’s
another story.
I’m not sure the difference between my stage persona and my day-to-day
persona are as marked as I imagine – well, not always anyhow. For instance,
I suspect after a couple of glasses of wine I come close to the extrovert Cruddster,
but there are some performers who just are who they are every waking hour –
John Farnham springs to mind.
Some years ago I knew this one girl simply as the girlfriend of one of our occasional
band members, before I discovered she harbored ambitions to be a singer. Up
to that point I had thought of her as not much more than diminutive in stature
and fairly reserved in personality – and then one night she got hold of
a microphone. At that precise moment she transformed into this creature that
I failed utterly to recognise, and whose stage persona so disoriented me I had
to leave the room until she’d finished performing and relinquished the
microphone.
I wanted to ask her why she did that – why didn’t she just project
the same nuanced neutrality that I’d become accustomed to and felt safe
with – but I knew she’d be mightily offended so I never did ask
her. Anyway, after that night I never felt totally sure of her and always checked
in case there was a PA hidden somewhere in the room.
I’ve lived the life of a playing-in-a-band-person for so long now that
I can barely conceive of life without it – and my other extrovert self.
Would the Crudd persona gradually re-emerge and integrate into a happily rounded
Rudd personality in a post gig world? I don’t think I’m prepared
to find that out out just yet.