Posted by Ian on 2010-03-27
A favourite story of mine is about the famous composer, possibly Rachmaninov, being asked by a pupil out of which of the two pieces of music he had composed, the master preferred. The student duly played the first piece, but before he had started on the second, Rachmaninov interjected by saying: “I prefer the other one.”
This story occasionally comes to mind when I’m doing my one man show: I know from experience that audiences prefer the second half. There are a number of reasons for this: these include the audience are more relaxed, they are hopefully in tune with my sense of humour, there is more ‘fun’ audience participation, there is one particular routine which changes their perception of what a magic show is; and there is the fact that people tend to have short-term memories - so they have probably forgotten most of the first half anyway.
Of course I’m not complaining: shows are meant to ‘build’ and if the second half was considered worse than the first half, then there would be a serious problem. Nevertheless there’s always the concern in the back of the mind that the main reason why the second half is considered ‘better’ is partly because the first half is not so good.
When I first began, this was almost certainly true – mainly because the second half comprised a repertoire that I’ve performed for many years; and most of the first half was tricks that I was new to. Inevitably one would suffer vis- -vis the other. But over a few shows, the excuse of hiding behind ‘new material’ came less.
In any event I’ve been judging the success of my new show purely on the reaction of the audience to the first half. However much they ‘praised’ the second half, it meant little to me if they appeared indifferent about the first 45 minutes. Maybe I was being a little tough on myself but I didn’t want to be one of those performers who coast through most of the show and then pulled it all back right at the end.
I certainly don’t think I’ve cracked it yet. But I was given a huge boost the last time I performed the show. A man said to me during the interval: “is the second half as good as the first?” At first I thought I might have misheard – did he in fact say: “is the second half better than the first?” Which, of course, was back to the Rachmaninov anecdote again.
As it was, I was able to reply with confidence: “it’s better.”
This story occasionally comes to mind when I’m doing my one man show: I know from experience that audiences prefer the second half. There are a number of reasons for this: these include the audience are more relaxed, they are hopefully in tune with my sense of humour, there is more ‘fun’ audience participation, there is one particular routine which changes their perception of what a magic show is; and there is the fact that people tend to have short-term memories - so they have probably forgotten most of the first half anyway.
Of course I’m not complaining: shows are meant to ‘build’ and if the second half was considered worse than the first half, then there would be a serious problem. Nevertheless there’s always the concern in the back of the mind that the main reason why the second half is considered ‘better’ is partly because the first half is not so good.
When I first began, this was almost certainly true – mainly because the second half comprised a repertoire that I’ve performed for many years; and most of the first half was tricks that I was new to. Inevitably one would suffer vis- -vis the other. But over a few shows, the excuse of hiding behind ‘new material’ came less.
In any event I’ve been judging the success of my new show purely on the reaction of the audience to the first half. However much they ‘praised’ the second half, it meant little to me if they appeared indifferent about the first 45 minutes. Maybe I was being a little tough on myself but I didn’t want to be one of those performers who coast through most of the show and then pulled it all back right at the end.
I certainly don’t think I’ve cracked it yet. But I was given a huge boost the last time I performed the show. A man said to me during the interval: “is the second half as good as the first?” At first I thought I might have misheard – did he in fact say: “is the second half better than the first?” Which, of course, was back to the Rachmaninov anecdote again.
As it was, I was able to reply with confidence: “it’s better.”
