Magic Expectations

Last Tuesday, I went to see the Queens of the Stone Age and the Foo Fighters live at Mosaic Stadium. I had to use all of my fingers and toes, and borrow a few from Rhonda to figure out it's been nearly 30 years since I last saw the Foo Fighters. We were scheduled to have them here in 2022, but the passing of Taylor Hawkins cancelled that tour. For QOTSA, it's only been 3 years as I saw them in Saskatoon. Interestingly, also the last time I consumed alcohol in any appreciable amount. 

Overall, it was a great show and pretty much exactly what you would expect of a stadium show like that. Plenty of hit songs, a tight band and great visuals. But at the same time, it kinda fell flat. I've listened to the Foo Fighters since their first album and many of these songs are as ingrained in my musical lexicon as anything by the Beatles or Queen. With my location being on the opposite side of the stadium from the stage, I was mostly watching the fun through the big screens. I could barely make out the band at all. 

I felt the same way after seeing Paul McCartney at the old Taylor Field. I was far too removed from the action to really feel connected. I think at the end of the day, I would have been happier with a 2 hour performance of the hits in a heated arena than a 3 hour performance full of filler on a cold prairie night in an open roof stadium. 

In some respects, I'd almost rather go to a small local show with a band playing something I've never heard before. Without an expectation being set, it's easier to impress me and expand my mind a bit. This happened this past weekend at Tiny Fest, a small local scene festival. I saw the duo Worlds Collide and had my mind completely blown by how original and beautiful their music was. 

Queens of the Stone Ago delivered a bit more. It was still a stadium performance and I was still a quarter mile away, but they brought a little more spice to the equation. For example, during "No One Knows" they started to sort of drag and slow around the bridge part. The bass started playing solo and things just started melting. Like I even commented how the song was melting. Then the visuals on the screens started glitching and showing tracers. I wasn't on mushrooms, but they did a great job of reproducing that experience. 

Maybe little surprise from a band that talented but also known for being loose handed and stoner rock. It was like watching the musical version of "The Legend of the Drunken Master". 

But you start to realize that all of this is about expectation. I didn't expect Worlds Collide so it was easy for them to impress. My familiarity with "No One Knows" set me up with an expectation of the song sounding one way, and the change made it magical. And maybe I expected the Foo Fighters to transcend what I've heard from them for 35 years and they just couldn't exceed those expectations. 

My ponderings on expectations were well and truly capped off yesterday when I watched an episode of Neil Degrasse Tyson's podcast "Star Talk" where he talked to Teller of Penn and Teller fame (apparently Ray Teller?) where they talked about how a lot of what magicians do is play with our expectations and when they can exceed or circumvent them, that's where the magic happens. Bending a spoon with your mind is amazing because we don't often go around bending spoons at all, let alone with our brains. It would actually be less interesting to make a car roll down the street with your mind. 

They did discuss how musicians use music to affect people's emotions just as magicians use illusion to have the same effect, but they didn't talk about how musicians can do the same thing by playing with people's expectations. I first noticed this watching Tool play live. Maynard will often sing the harmony part of a vocal and in your head you can hear the two part harmony even though there is no one signing the root part, nor is a recording being played. Your familiarity is so strong that the brain fills it in on it's own. 

Of course, this is nothing new. Victor Borge was using expectation and familiarity long before any of us were even born to produce delight and humour. 

I was pondering this weekend how I can use expectation to my own benefit in the music I make. It's easy for an established act like QOTSA or Tool to use familiarity to create a new experience for audiences. My audience is not that entrenched - to be sure. In some respects, I've been able to use covers to subvert expectation, but I don't have nearly the talent Borge did. 

But, this weekend exceeded my expectations through an act of kindness. Tiny, the organizer of Tiny Fest approached me on Saturday and asked if I'd be willing to bring the kazoo out of hiatus and play a couple of songs on Sunday. So for the first time in a couple of months, I strapped on the kazoo and guitar for a couple of songs. And the delight in the faces of the people there when, despite their expectations, a guy played the kazoo and sang some funny songs, told me that I've been using expectation to entertain for a while now. 

All that to say, manipulating expectation is something I imagine few people think of, but clearly can be used to affect how you feel or experience the world. 

Can you think of a time that someone else playing with your expectations led to a change in how you felt or saw something. What are some negative ways that this kind of power could be used?