When I’m playing a show with my rock cover band, and the music is at 115 decibals, it gets hard to communicate. The lead singer and I can talk OK because we speak at close distances. But the bassist and I … well, that’s a different story. 25 feet separate us at any given show, so over the band’s three-year lifespan, the bassist and I have developed an intricate system of nonverbal communication. Below you will find a smattering of translations—most of them having to do with assessing blame when someone screws up.
Head nod: The song is wrapping up; prepare to end.
Elevated spinning hand: Keep it going; stretch it out.
Head motion toward guitar: Follow me on this musical stretch; pay attention to what I’m doing.
Hand horizontal to ground, motioning down: Slow down the tempo (or “play softer”)
Gritting teeth and making eye contact: Here comes the cool part; let’s break it down!
Tapping hand to own chest: I just screwed up; my fault.
Finger point to other person: You just screwed up; your fault.
Eyes wide, look of disbelief: I didn’t just screw up, dude—you screwed up.
Eyes wide, staring at other person: WTF are you playing, bro?
Vigorous shoulder convulsion: I’m playing the correct &^%$! notes, bro. WTF are you playing?
Look of exasperation to the heavens: You have never once got this part right! It’s called practice!
Looking at ground, head shaking: I can’t even think right now—I’m that frustrated. Please God, just let this song end.
Mimes typing on keyboard: I am putting out an ad on Craigslist to replace you! Just FYI…
Thanks Chuck. Made me smile.
Bro, that’s hilarious. (Thumbs up while nodding head)
Thanks for the laugh! My husband is a singer and I’ve seen some of these signals