The encore has lost all of its charm. There is no surprise anymore. It doesn’t matter if the band had an average show, the crowd screams for the encore. The set list of all these bands include the pre-planned encore songs. For the artist, the encore was the way to show your audience that you appreciated the response from the crowd and you just couldn’t leave and you wouldn’t feel right if you didn’t do one more song. For the audience, the encore was the only way you could tell the artist that the show you just witnessed was so good that the show wouldn’t be complete unless the artist does just one more song. Maybe it was my naiveté as a kid who hadn’t played in a band yet, but there was a time that the encore meant something special. Lets face it, there’s nothing more pathetic on the stage when a band comes back for an encore that isn’t asked for. When the band screams from the stage, “Do you want to hear one more!”, almost pleading for the audience to accept them, sorry, that’s just sad. Because of all those things and more, and after playing all these years, I’ve discounted the encore as just another song in the set. That all changed at Bayfront Blues Festival in Duluth on Sun. Aug. 13th. In the acoustic tent that day there was, for a brief shining moment, the resurrection in my eyes of the bona fide, old school, roof raising, if this doesn’t happen this whole tent is gonna burn, encore. It was beautiful.
In my performing career, I rarely do encores. After playing for 3 sets, there’s nothing really left to say. Most of the time, I’m not sure if the audience really wants it, or their just being polite and asking for one because they think they should. But my show in the acoustic tent that day gave me a new yardstick to measure if an encore is needed. Since 1997, I’ve performed on one of the outdoor stages at Bayfront with my band Mick Sterling and the Stud Brothers. Every show in Duluth has been a special show for me. The audience really dug each show. We were a bit different than the other Blues bands, mainly because we really weren’t a blues band per se. We had the elements of the blues, but it was based more in the Soul, R&B and E Street Band flavor. Whatever the reason was, Bayfront audiences treated my band like a champ. The show was very special for the band too. The band rose to the occasion and it was a sight to behold.
After my 2005 show at Bayfront, I drove home and decided on the ride home, that it was time for me to do something different musically. I had just released BETWEEN SATURDAY NIGHT AND SUNDAY MORNING, with a different group of players. The style was different. The instrumentation and the interpretations of the songs really didn’t mesh with what the Stud Brothers were doing. As proud as I was of our band, I felt very strongly that it was time for me to take a new direction. I told Bayfront this a few days after I got back. I told them that I had a different band and I would love to play on the main stage again with my new band. As the 2006 festival approached, I noticed that I was not on the main stage, but in the acoustic tent. I assumed it was because my band had changed and they weren’t sure if it would work on the main stage. Because I love the festival, and I was promoting my upcoming event, Wild River Music Comedy and Film Festival, I jumped at the chance to perform in the tent.
My goals for my show at Bayfront was to show my fans in Duluth a different side of me musically. I performed with Paul Mayasich, Scott Sansby and Andy Dee for a 30 minute set. The tent was packed and overflowing on both sides. The crowd was ready for a great show and I was more ready than I’ve been for a long time. Basically, I wanted to give them a show they wouldn’t forget. Our set was filled with new songs. All of them received a strong response. Before I did my last song, I thanked the audience for supporting the band for so long. I then performed a Bayfront favorite, my version of Van Morrison’s classic, In to the Mystic. That’s when things got really interesting. As the song ended, the crowd erupted and stood up and cheered. I was holding back tears because it was such a genuine and moving moment. I left the stage with my players as the emcee told the crowd it was time to move from the tent to the next stage for the next show. Just then, the crowd let out a huge and deafening boo. It was a sound I hadn’t heard before. They wanted more and they weren’t leaving until there was an encore. They needed more show.
As the emcee furiously got on his radio to talk to the organizers, it was clear the crowd was insistent on getting what they wanted. They screamed, the yelled, they clapped, they wanted more. I looked at the emcee and gestured that it might be a good idea if we came up for one more song or this thing could get a little ugly. I felt bad for John (the emcee). I had been in that position many times when I emceed the Heart & Soul concert series. People love their artists, and they want more, but the show has to stay on schedule too. Tough call. Luckily, after a couple of minutes, the organizers decided it was better to run a little late and let us up one more time. The crowd erupted. It was a beautiful thing.
As I drove home from Bayfront, what struck me about that moment was how real it was. There was nothing forced. Nothing was taken for granted. The emotion was genuine and the desire was simple and direct. A nearly 10 year relationship between an artist and an audience was solidified that day, forever in my estimation. There is nothing more than any other artist can expect than that kind of respect from an audience. The encore regained it’s position as a goal to shoot for. Not a pre-planned one, but a real one. One where the crowd can’t leave unless the band does one more. One where the artist feels like he or she cheated the audience if he
doesn’t do just one more. The audience and the artist connecting and wanting to give back to each other. That is a bedrock principle that should never be abandoned by an artist or an audience
