Years ago, while my grandmother was slowly dying of cancer, I would walk her dog.
Imagine, if you will, a tall, lanky professional cellist (just back from a decade or so near Boston) walking a miniature dachshund through small-town Missouri...
One walk in particular stands out:
That day, as we ambled along the grass-choked sidewalk, stopping everywhere to smell nothing in particular, we managed to catch the attention of another neighborhood dog.
This was small-town Missouri. Neighborhood dogs there aren't always leashed.
This one wasn't.
It began to follow us.
Now, this didn't look like an aggressive follow to my untrained eye (more simple curiosity and even friendliness).
But my grandmother's dachshund was clearly worried.
She knew that this other dog was at least three times her size, and that it was closing steadily. The whites of Gretchen’s eyes showed as she glanced back at me, telling me she didn't know what to do.
Fortunately, I had a little time in which to think:
Do I, through inaction, let this dog-on-dog interaction happen?
Am I prepared to break up a possible fight?
If not, what are my other options? Eye contact doesn't seem to be working. Will yelling help?
Will this other dog even listen to ME, just some strange cat-person from Boston?
How can I get this other dog to leave us alone?
After thinking it over, I decided to dip into my musical expertise. Specifically, as a veteran of many orchestra concerts and opera pits, I decided to tap into my vast experience with charismatic stage presence.
When the other dog was still thirty feet away, I stopped on a dime, wheeled around, cranked my charisma up to 11, put on a bold threatening posture, and made direct eye contact.
But I never said a word.
I swear to you, the other dog made multiple full apologies with its body language alone! Abashed, it retreated, giving us a wide berth.
We continued our walk, and returned home without incident.
Nonverbal communication is everything in music.
Yes, wordless music is obviously nonverbal, I know. But there's much more to it than that.
Your physical stage presence sells the music, defining the expectation and mood of your live audience, before they ever hear a single note.
What is the mood of this piece of music going to be? Is it happy or sad? Triumphal, warlike, tragic, or melancholy? All of the above, or none?
As you stride onto the stage, have you communicated to your audience with your walk, your posture and your facial expressions, that you expect yourself to play brilliantly, AND that you are glad they have come to be changed by your live performance?
Or are telling them (nonverbally) that you are just worried about getting through this underprepared performance without dying?
My familiarity with the bodily machinery & behavioral mechanics of charismatic stage presence offers a fascinating [nonverbal] window into the wordless aspects, the deep layers, of human decision-making.
Especially into those aspects related to subconscious acceptance or rejection of an offer before it has even been made.
There is far more to persuasion than simple argument.
Rational arguments are wonderful persuasive tools, yes! If nothing else is working, so too are fights.
But in a live [music, street, Social Media] situation, especially if professionals are involved, ninety percent of the persuasion is over before the fight (or argument) even begins.
Just ask any musician.
Or, you know, ask that neighborhood dog in Missouri.
Thanks for reading!