Between co-hosting duties for every Monday’s OUTSKIRTS Americana and Country day on the Bandsintown LIVE channel and performing online as half of the Wild Ponies, Doug Willams knows a lot about live music streaming.

Here he shares five unvarnished lessons learned. 

1. This isn’t what I do. 

It feels strange and sterile. I’m in my living room, playing guitar to a screen - I can’t see faces. I can’t hear anyone laugh or clap. I can’t smell spilled beer. I need the energy exchange - people in a room experiencing an event together, breathing the same air and feeling each other’s heat as a moment builds. The more barriers you can remove between me and the audience the better. I miss those shows when the audience wants it so bad, and we want it so bad and together we all fall into this cosmic wave of rhythm and lyrics and magic and the whole room levitates, just for a minute. It’s the best. I don’t know if that’ll happen through a computer screen. (While we’re talking about things I miss, I’ll just go ahead and throw in truck stops, tiny green rooms that haven’t been cleaned in years, and the golden moments of a seven-hour drive when the road is wide open and the sun is just starting to set and you turn off the radio and just think for a while)

2. There IS value in this. 

We made a deal when we became artists. We made a pact with our fans and friends, and we have a responsibility. We have to deliver. You can’t just build a community and then let it fall off a cliff when things get hard- that’s when people need artists the most. It really isn’t about getting paid right now it’s about serving a purpose. I realize this sounds a little grandiose and maybe egocentric, but I think it’s true. If there’s a way to connect to my little corner of the world in a meaningful way I’ll be damned if I’m not going to do my level best to make it happen. If they can come watch me prance around on stage in a cramped venue with uncomfortable seats and a too-late-for-a-nine-to-fiver start time, I can brave staring at a camera and playing my heart out into the abyss. 

Also, the energy exchange DOES happen, it’s just very delayed. Deep time. The comments and notes of gratitude we get after a live-streamed show are amazing. People telling us they cried the whole time, they didn’t know how much they needed it. That’s more than enough encouragement for me to keep at it. (I should add, we do actually need to get paid - the light bill doesn’t really care about my special purpose)

3.  Learning the tech helps. 

It removes some of the barriers. Playing a show requires a MUCH different headspace than setting up a webcam and a broadcast studio app and your preamps… all of that. But I’ve found that learning my way around those things and really understanding how they work can take some of the stress off and I don’t have to really think about them once the “show” starts. It’s kind of like learning scales and then actually playing a solo. I’m not THINKING about the actual notes I’m playing in a guitar solo- I’m just playing. Or even on a more basic level, I’m not thinking about the correct way to hold a guitar - I’m just holding it and playing, and because I’ve put in the time beforehand I don’t have to think about those things as much in the moment. Not thinking about them allows me to focus on what I’m doing and connect with my audience.

4. I love having a moderator. 

It’s nice to have someone there typing in the comments for us. We’re lucky to have a friend quarantined with us, and she’s GREAT! But, even if you don’t, you can get a friend to do it from somewhere else. We’ve done if for other artists. Because even if you work really really hard on #3, this shit just breaks or gets weird every now and then. Having someone else there in the comments allows me to keep my cool and roll with it. Or at least look like I am. 

Also, even if it’s all going well I really like to focus on the show - the playing, the songs, and stories. I LOVE reading the comments after a show, but having someone there in real-time answering questions and pointing towards websites and Spotify playlists and VENMO accounts is super helpful. Another barrier removed.

5. Practice

I’ve spent my entire adult life learning how to tour and soundcheck and play on a stage. How to connect with the people in the room with me. This is something different. It  doesn’t feel the same. 

I’ve noticed that it can really be exhausting - more so than an in-person show. I guess it’s the energy exchange again. Sometimes it feels like we’re shouting into a void. There’s no applause at the end of a song, and that can be unnerving. But the more we do it the easier it gets. We’ve found that it really means something to the people who are watching, and it’s easier to remember that in the moment after you’ve done a few. I’m still LONGING for the road. Begging for a shitty monitor mix and a snarky sound engineer. I’ll take it in a heartbeat. 

But, in the meantime there’s this. And this is good and valuable and I’m grateful for it. Grateful for a way to connect and maybe ease someone else’s loneliness if even for a moment, help them feel a part of a community. I’m willing to bet that it’s going to roll into the next normal, even when we are able to get on the road again. So we may as well get good at it.

MORE: 

• 5 Things We’ve Learned About Streaming: We Banjo 3

• Five Things We’ve Learned About Live Streaming: The Accidentals

• Five Things I’ve Learned About Live Streaming: Marielle Kraft

• Musician’s Guide To Running A Livestream Using Free OBS Software