Opinionator | Measure for Measure: What Do You Reveal Onstage?

Ah, yes. Back to the songwriting series! I've missed writing about songwriting. Maybe you've missed me, too, a little. Why do we write songs, by the way? Usually we write for a reason — to express a feeling, to tell that boy what we think of him, or to sing the baby to sleep. Sometimes we write songs to be famous, but not usually. The best songs are useful in our daily lives. So therefore anywhere we sing a song can be a kind of stage.

And then there is the Big Stage, that stage that we approach fearfully. There are two things I want to say about the stage.

One is that The Stage Is A Sacred Space. That's what I learned as a young dancer studying ballet and the Martha Graham modern dance technique. We were supposed to leave all our earthly issues behind us when we approached the floor. This also applied to our rehearsal and our daily practice spaces. We could leave our junk on the side of the room underneath the barre but essentially we were supposed to leave the floor clear for the performance.

So it makes me crazy when I come out on a stage, no matter how large or small it is, and see that people have put up their drinks, their jackets, their reading material — once a woman even put her two little children up on the edge of the stage "because they are so beautiful!" Yes, they are. Now take them down, please.

The second part of this first idea is that the stage belongs to whoever is on it at that moment. If anarchists seize the stage because they have an agenda (this happened to me once in Italy) and refuse to yield "because we want to have a presence," you must not give them the stage unless their agenda is your agenda also. For that hour and a half, or two, (or three if you are Leonard Cohen), that stage belongs to you. And your vision.

So: The second thing is that (speaking of your vision) whatever you carry in your mind while you are onstage shows up through the magic of theater, so that everyone in the audience sees it, too. This is something my director, Kay Matschullat, said to me while we were working on a play together a couple of years ago.

This is so intriguing to me. How can that be? And yet we see it happening over and over, not just in theater or dance, but in music, too. We go to see a performer. We like his music. We like the way he looks. We prepare to see him by listening to his music and thinking about his life and the stories he tells. And yet once we get to the show we look at him on the stage, in the lights. But his mind isn't on it, he doesn't like the audience, he's not inspired, he's thinking of his laundry. How do we know? We can just tell. He sees his laundry, and we see it, too.

So the stage is a powerful place to be. And it doesn't have to be a theater — there are lots of smaller stages in all kinds of situations. For example, there's the corner of the kitchen where the father sings after dinner. The spot of the cafeteria where someone has decided to start a tiny coffeehouse, where the raised floor is barely enough to hold a chair and a microphone. Or maybe it's not a raised floor but just a flat piece of linoleum. Or the stone hallway in the basement of a chapel. Maybe there's a spotlight, but maybe there isn't. These are still stages, and they still hold power for you as a performer.

Lately in my tours I have been doing a fair amount of workshops of various types.

There are two kinds of workshops — one in which I watch performances, and another where I lead the participants through a kind of guided meditation called What Is In Your Toolbox? In both cases I always try to follow the maxim expressed by Alex Haley: "Find the good — and praise it." I try to see each one as an individual in their very best light in all their beauty. What gift do they have that maybe they aren't even aware of?

I have worked with young kids in disadvantaged areas and older people in affluent areas, worked with people who have never written or sung before, and people who are accomplished professionals. One thing I have learned and continue to learn every single time is, you cannot tell what is being harbored in someone's soul (what their vision is) by judging them from the outside.

For example, I addressed a group of performers and songwriters in a well-to-do suburb. One lady with plump apple-pink cheeks and white curly hair, dressed in a velour sweatsuit, wanted to know, how could she be more like her favorite performer? I would never have dreamed what she was going to say … Eartha Kitt! The sleek, mixed-race, sultry (self-described) sex kitten. She asked me, how could she be more like her? This was her fantasy, and what she had in her mind. I told her, "Start with the songs — buy the music, learn the songs. Get someone to play the music if you can't do it yourself. Think about your costume. Maybe instead of velour sweat pants, a touch of a leopard-skin scarf or something exotic if you decide you want to perform for your friends or your church group."

A workshop on singing and the business of music at West Valley College. At 23:00, I talk about talent shows, at 36:36, I talk about making your name and at 52:00, I go over important tools that you have.

This has happened over and over. The young black kid wants to know if it's O.K. to write symphonies in A minor — it's his favorite key, but maybe he should push himself to write happier sounding music in a major key? Maybe an audience would like it more? I told him to push himself from time to time to explore other options but always know and remember that A minor has a special emotional resonance for him. Maybe it will be the key to his developing style.

Someone I took to be an English teacher — what was he wearing? corduroy pants and a button-down shirt? — reveals that he once was an artist by the name of Jimmy Sparklepants who used to perform in the nude. Yes, covered in sparkles. But now he is in his 40s and wants to consider other options. We discussed what these might be. And, honestly, I can't remember. The initial surprise must have popped them out of my mind.

Recently I worked with a group of young performers in Kansas. It was great. They ranged in age from 15 to about 28. They sang a few songs each in a "talent show" format so I could see the range of the material they were interested in. As each one approached the stage I thought, who is this person? If they were in a play, what would be their character? What I liked about it was that there was very little of the "American Idol" feeling — competitiveness, or impersonators, imitators — singing loudly or singing in clichés. There were some cover songs but they seemed to be chosen to reveal something about the person who was singing. And they sang original material also, which for the most part was really revealing and interesting to listen to.

Occasionally, though, I felt — this person could do more with just a bit more risk. The Midwestern values of modesty, sincerity and niceness were definitely at work. Some of the kids would try to talk over the applause as if to say, Oh no! Please stop that, this is embarrassing. I would think, this is a modest, personable, sincere young man or woman and just a touch of flamboyance or whimsy would go a long way.

One young woman got on the stage and told us she had written a song about having to choose between one lover and a second one. She was truthful and sincere and I liked watching her. But instead of the plain T-shirt she wore, I longed to see her in a scarlet velvet blouse, something that spoke of a bit of experience as a woman with a love life.

One young man was tall and thin with a pronounced black hairline and an aquiline nose, well-defined arched eyebrows, long thin hands. He was dressed in a plain mock turtleneck and khakis. As I watched him, I thought, this young man could get away with a lot if he chose to. The smallest prop would make him seem exotic — he could get away with a cravat, a top hat, a walking stick, a handkerchief, a newsboy cap. One of these would skew his onstage persona and would reveal something about his inner life. I suggested this to him. What was his inner fantasy? His face lit up. Freddie Mercury!

Of course you have to scale your production to your venue sometimes. I think he was used to playing in a local coffeehouse at noon, so I don't know if a full-throated version of "Bohemian Rhapsody" would go over, but you know, maybe it would.

Suzanne Vega just completed "Close-Up," a four-album series of stripped-down, intimate re-recordings of her back catalog. She continues to tour constantly, having played dates with artists as diverse as Moby and Bob Dylan, and is working on an album of new material to be released in the spring of 2014.