Inside a 5 hour set at Bourbon Street, Amsterdam

There’s usually a sense of disbelief when I tell people that I often perform between 3-5 hours at the weekends when I’m doing the Amsterdam late night circuit. The longest of all these gigs being a 5 hour set broken down into 5x45 minute sets with 15 minutes break at the end of each one in a live music club called Bourbon Street. The great thing about Bourbon Street is that there’s live music on every day of the week, all year round so you’re never short of finding live entertainment there. My first gig there was Halloween last year with the BoatHouse Jamz band now the Benga party band. Powerhouse Funk with splashes of soul songs placed in each set to give a bit of breathing room and let the funk out for a second. You start at 21:30 for the sound check and finish up around 03:45. To say the first time was exhausting was an understatement. To say the first few times before I started to learn the ropes of navigating a Bourbon Street set, as a vocalist, was also exhausting would be an understatement. The best way I can describe the feeling of it is that it's similar to having jet-lag. The tiredness just won’t leave you for the next day or two. God bless any vocalist who doesn’t get in a good vocal warm up before the sets because you’d end up sounding like an 80 year old chain-smoker the next day if you didn’t. Fortunately for my first gig and for all the following gigs since I managed to do that. Where I went wrong at the start was giving it my all in every song in every set – giving your all in 5 sets of funk is a dangerous game to be playing with your vocal cords and your overall life essence no matter how well you prepare. Funk is heavily energetic music and if you’re not singing to match the energy of the band you’re either gonna make it look flat or no one will be able to hear you over the music. Luckily on that gig I had two extra voices on stage between Noam on trumpet and Anna on bass who stepped on the lead vocal mic for a few songs. We also invited a few guests along that night with a female vocalist Myrto coming in for a half a set. All of this and I still wound up tired and almost voiceless at the end of the night. I’d failed to pace myself and would be paying for it for a few days. After that and for a few gigs leading into the end of last year I hated being booked there. I was tired and dissatisfied with my sound and how I was conducting myself on stage. Something I knew I had to fix. So for a few of the gigs I started taking my iPad on stage with me and making voice notes of the sets to see where I could improve and how best to manage my energy when I was on stage so I didn’t keep winding up depleted for days after. One thing that’s definitely helped along the way is drinking a cup of hot water with honey in between each set. That or a bottle of ginger beer. 

Your education in making it through these kinds of gigs comes when you start to perform with and listen to the more seasoned musicians who know this type of gig well. And when I say listen  I mean both figuratively and literally. In both what they have to say in conversation and what they have to say on stage with you when they’re playing. The majority of the gigs I perform in Bourbon Street are unrehearsed so communication is a big deal on the night. If you don’t know how to listen to your musicians and improvise on the spot – you’re fucked. I find myself quite fortunate in that I’ve managed to land myself in with a group of musicians who grew up listening to and playing the kind of old school 70s/80s Funk and Soul that I’ve become accustomed to from my Grannies’ kitchens. Initially introduced to them by Ben the drummer and leader of Benga, I’ve had the pleasure of performing with the Bashir Brothers over this past year in Bourbon Street in and many other various gigs around the Randstad area. Between them and the rest of the band accompanying me on the night I’ve learned a great deal about giving others their time to shine on stage, how to switch up songs in the middle of them with discrete cues and how to better control a crowd when they can see a strong synergy on stage. The craziest part of the sets is how we can make a medley out of nowhere, on the spot. We may start on Brickhouse by the Commodores and somewhere along the way it might transform into a bit of Al Jarreau’s Roof Garden, then Chuck Brown’s Bustin’ Loose and next thing you know we’re back at Brickhouse. Those kinds of spontaneous switches can be called by me giving a sly reference to a line from another song and the lads automatically know to switch or one of the lads will play a lick from another song and then I’m the one who has to catch on quick. Keeps you on your toes.

Like I said earlier, at the start I used to hate these gigs. That’s until I changed my perspective of it. This was the place for me to sharpen the knife of my performances. This was the place for me to be more daring vocally (when I say more daring I mean the level of comfort with my vocal flexibility, not more yelling and balling). This was the place for me to take my energy with a crowd to a new level because the thing about Bourbon Street on a weekend is that it’s always packed. Sets one through five the place is jumping. Sometimes people who come in at the soundcheck stay right until the last set because that’s the kind of people that Bourbon Street attracts: people who just love live music. During the week it’s not too dissimilar, the only thing being with the midweek gigs is you can’t predict the turnout. I’ve actually enjoyed that though. The challenge of working a smaller crowd. It’s more intimate. It’s less of a collective than the big crowd so you have to work harder to keep them there but when they’re invested in what you’re doing they’re really there with you all the way. And because of this I’ve had some magic moments in the bigger and quieter nights. There’s a point in the evening when the level of alcohol consumed, along with some good music, brings out the inner child in the audience and you’re in a room with a group of big, happy-headed kids and what do kids want to do most? Play. And when you have a bunch of big kids on stage feeding their inner child by performing and expressing themselves freely and in sync then you’ve got a lethal combination for a good time. From having the crowd chanting along to lyrics or simple melody lines to having a full room of rowdy drunks whispering in descending levels of softness together to the point the room gets so quiet you can hear the jingling of the glasses as the bar staff are pulling the next round of pints. Those are the moments that you don’t dare let your conscious self anywhere near the wheel; you have to just let your artistic side airbend the energy in the room. That’s the best way I can describe how I feel when I visualise the movement of energy around the room, I’m like Avatar Aang manipulating the wind and just like the wind I can’t see it but I do feel it. I see it moving people’s bodies as they dance. I see it on their faces as they’re smiling. I hear it when they chant. I feel it when they clap and cheer. Like an all you can eat buffet for the soul and I’ll never be full.

The night ends with rapturous applause from the crowds as I shout out the musicians on stage one-by-one. A hug of recognition from and to each of them of the performance we put in and a firm handshake with an, “Until next time.” Then a walk down from the steps of the stage towards the bar, greeted through the crowd with kind words and pats on the back from the audience telling about how they loved the show and what a performance it was. Either a handshake for the bar staff or a nod to each of them if the bars too busy and a warm “until next time” from each of them. Out the door and a fist bump to the door staff saying each time, “Have a safe rest of the night, lads.” “Thanks, see you soon!” It’s usually about 4am or a little later at this point so I’ve got to rush for the 4:46am train to Rotterdam. Every time without fail I fall asleep on the train and wake up in another dimension, googly eyed as I look for the nearest Felyx Moped or if the weathers atrocious a taxi will have to do. All being well I'm back in my bed between 6.30-7am only coming to realise now that I usually leave the apartment 10 hours before that to get to the soundcheck on time. All of this for the love of music. Can’t beat it!