The Psychology of Open Mics (or Why It Hurts So Good)

Jared Mackay explains the emotional masochism of the open microphone.

The open mic is a powerful experience, equal parts terror and exhilaration. It’s a place where established musicians come to try out new material and were new singer/songwriters get their first stage experience. There’s been an open mic at the Grad Club for years, and every week players run the gamut from pro to pre-teen. From shy crooners too scared of the mic to raise their voice and be heard to jam bands that hold the stage hostage for half hour psychedelic sets. What bond is shared that draws those of drastically different skill levels and stage presence week after week? I’m going to go out on a limb here and say the hope for the fawning adoration of a rapt and attentive audience.

Now, if you’ve ever been to an open mic, you know that the chances of an attentive audience are pretty slim. You’re in a bar with your friends. You’re waiting for the friends you came with to play, and who’s this jerk on stage singing? Who cares? In can be damn hard to play over a talking crowd,and if nobody is paying attention you can feel like crap afterwards. But we keep coming back! I attribute this to the effect of random partial reinforcement. I’ve been reading a book on the behavioral psychology of rats and it’s probably colouring my view here.

What then is random partial reinforcement? In animals (and in humans, I swear) if you reward a certain action every time it’s performed (positive reinforcement) that action will be performed again and again, in order to achieve the reward. If you stop rewarding the action, eventually it will no longer be performed. Now the interesting thing is that if you randomly reward an action (take, for example, a slot machine) the action will be performed for a much longer period of time without the stimulus of a reward. This is random partial reinforcement – every time you play at the open mic and people listen, applaud and compliment you afterward the feeling is so good you’ll play again ten weeks in a row without a single person paying attention in the hope of getting back that groove.

Have I mentioned I’m not a licensed psychologist? But I go to an open mic almost every week and I see the terror in the eyes of young musicians as they take the stage for the first time, and I see the joy they feel after a successful set. I’ve watched hundreds of musicians shrug off compliments because they know that one chord change wasn’t on time, or they stumbled in the first verse. They come back because they want to get it right, because they know how good it can feel after that one perfect set. And you know what? That’s why I come back too.