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hear them and feel them. I wanted to get inside my material and not be distracted. I loved theater shows.
You know what's the opposite of a theater? A TV studio. Somewhere back in time a TV mogul said, "Let's design a big room with the most distractions we can think of and see if the entertainers can overcome them. Let's put TV cameras between the entertainer and the audience and have them move around and get in the way of any link between the performer and the studio audience. Oh, and yes, let's find some really bright lights! We need those crowd shots so let's light it so it's like doing a show at Walmart! And to make it even harder, let's make sure every act just does a really short amount of time. We don't want anyone building up rapport. Now, can we think of other distractions? How about random people in headsets scurrying around the cameras? Yes! I like it!"
I know. The studio audience is not your audience. The real audience is out there in TV land, watching you through the cameras and you have to play to them. Even so, I found it incredibly hard to focus on TV shows. I don't think I ever got inside my material the way I did in theater situations. I never, ever, felt the zen- like zone I sometimes found in theaters. The material always felt diminished.
So for me, doing TV was a lot like driving in Thailand. Things were coming at you from all directions and it was very confusing. I can do both, but it's more a matter of survival than bliss.
There is another venue that is just awful and that’s a fairgrounds. There is nothing less exciting than doing a show where the stage is on the infield and the grandstand is across the race track. You have no idea what the crowd is doing because you can’t hear them. So you just leave spaces and hope. Survival entertainment.
Speaking of survival, I once opened for Andy Williams on a tour of those in- the-round theaters back east. Before the first show, Andy did a long sound check and when it came to my turn the sound guy asked me what I needed. I said a voice mic and a guitar mic and asked if we'd do my sound check now. He said no need for that, we've got you covered.
So that night I got introduced, walked on stage, and neither microphone worked. No sound at all. 2,500 people yelling, "We can't hear you!" So I just stood there like a dumbass while the sound guys raced around sorting it out. For months I had dreams of standing on stage with people yelling at me while the sound guy said, "Don't worry, we've got you covered."
Yes, even theaters aren't perfect.
I once opened for Dione Warwick at Wolftrap, which is a famous outdoor theater in Virginia. I have no idea why, but I was wearing a cream-colored suit and I walked out and had one of the best shows of my life. Gangbusters. I took my bow, ran off stage, and tripped over a monitor. I fell and rolled in the dust