For an artist, starting to perform is a vulnerable process. You get up on stage, and then before you know it, the show’s already over; you either ride the high or over-fixate on that one wrong chord you played (that no one noticed except your band!). And that is if you’ve been playing for some months or years. If you are just at the beginning of your journey of taking on the stage, it resembles a flower pushing its way through the soil. Delicate, growing, changing, weak to the harshness of the world. Think of where it grows and what you feed it – you don’t plant roses in the shade near invasive, destructive species. A strong gust of wind, a careless passer-by, or a harsh word could kill it. Though we don’t think about it twice when we buy a bouquet or an orchid at a gas station. It’s beautiful, how it came to be, so we don’t care.

Where and how we grow is just as important as where we are trying to get in our artistic journeys. It really is all about the process. My mission here was and is to make it as enjoyable as I possibly can. Like many acts at Abbey Road Live Night, this was my first time performing my own music in front of an audience; it was at least two years since I sang on stage at all. I think at the time, I was quite hesitant to admit it, but a big, selfish part of me wanted to feel seen and heard in the creative space I had only just started to occupy. And from the conversations I was having with my colleagues, I realised I was not the only one seeking validation from a listener. On the 15th of June, every audience member in the room came out to support a friend, a colleague, a daughter or a son. Everyone cared. At least a little bit. And as the organiser, the listener, and the performer, I could feel it throughout the whole night.

Now, this setting is impossible to recreate in every gig I’ll ever perform, but it made me wonder. If each one of us were brave enough to expose our art, ourselves, and our work in a meaningful way. If every person took the time to share with the world as an equal. If the audience knew what it felt like to be the one on stage. Wouldn’t the world and gigs be a kinder place to live and create in? The first step in not judging yourself is to stop judging others. When we disconnect from our inner curious creator and are only the observer, an onlooker, we are quick to scrutinise and discard; we act without care toward those who dare to expose themselves and their minds for the world to see.

I believe that as artists, vulnerability is our superpower. It’s what moves, inspires, breaks hearts, and burns fires. It is the foundation for growth and collaboration. If what you create comes from a place of truth, it has to be. It is effervescent when it is felt by the audience in the room. And it should not be one-sided. As a performer, musician, event curator, and human, I want to create mindful environments and relationships (with flowers and people).

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I came in a couple of hours before the gig. I walked through a small courtyard and went into one of the two main rooms where the performances would take place. Seeing the artists prep for their gig, all bright-eyed and excited, made me feel like I was having a peek behind the curtain. The artistic vulnerability that powers the artist to reach the peaks of creativity was moving in invisible waves. I could feel it vibrating through the room. I sat on the wooden chairs underneath the dark green leaves of long branches that stretched throughout the courtyard and spoke with artist after artist, trying to understand that elusive feeling of pre-performance excitement. Even through the sound check, I saw every single person in the room give their undivided attention to their fellow performers. With each new story and each new song, I felt the act of presentation unfold into a beautiful picture of uninhibited performances.

If you want evidence that curiosity and vulnerability make for a purer and more exceptional performance, look no further than the Abbey Road Live Night put on by Dascha Nefedov and James Ladds at the beginning of last summer. Ask anyone lucky enough to attend the show, and they will tell you how they felt a sense of ease and familiarity throughout the show. As for the performers, they felt the pure joy of celebrating the power of music with their friends.

“This show we are doing tonight is actually great because it has been put together by people who care about music, and I feel like that’s meaningful,” said Yago (keys player, singer-songwriter, producer).

That night was Yago’s first time performing his own music. When he stepped onto the stage, he saw the faces of friends looking back at him. For an artist, putting your art out there requires a level of vulnerability reminiscent of sharing your life story on a first date. When that vulnerability is expressed, the task of reciprocating falls on the audience. That night, bonded through the melodic sounds of Yago’s keyboard, the audience reciprocated the only way they could, with cheers and claps.

I continued sitting in the peace of the green courtyard as performers came to talk to me one by one.

“Tonight is different mainly because it’s a non-commercial gig done mainly to show the vast amount of talent we have here in the institute. I know there’s always a commercial side to it, and people have to make money in order for the music industry to afford itself, but today is mainly about putting ourselves out there and showing what we can do,” said Miguel, (DJ, producer). Miguel has played gigs all around the world, but that night, like every other performer, he could see how special the gig was.

Some artists at Abbey Road Institute Live Night have performed at similar gigs before; for others, it was their first time. Regardless of experience, they all knew that the important thing was to have fun with their friends and lean into the flow of the performance.

“I did some similar school gigs before, where you’re just performing for the love, not worried about being criticised. This is more like a family gig. We are just having fun. The beauty of music is just doing what you love most,” said Alberto (bass player, producer).

The support performers were receiving quickly overshadowed their anxieties and reservations. Unburdened by the fear of being judged and the constant need to hold the audience’s attention, artists were able to let loose, try new things, and even make mistakes.

“Everyone that performed today created and produced their own music. They put so much energy and time into creating art. Also, there’s freedom,” artist OJ Flowers told me.

The artists cheering each other on created an atmosphere that felt like home, but it was not just the performers that created the welcoming and uniting energy of this gig. The audience played an equally important role in this. Made up of friends, family, and fellow classmates who came to uplift and support the artists, each person came with the intention of being present and engaged as an active audience member. They did not come to grab a drink or catch up with friends; they did not half listen while discussing a random subject, waiting for their friends to get ready to go out for a smoke. The music was not just a byproduct of a fun night out or background noise that filled the silence. Every single person came there to listen, and every artist could feel it. What this resulted in was a constant line of communication between the artist and the observer. A collaboration that removed the distance between those off and on the stage, a collective experience, one based on love and harmony.