There’s a phenomenon is psychology known as the “illusion of
transparency.” It’s centered on the idea that we feel our emotions are
transparent to others, when studies have shown that they're are not. And this can occur while performing public tasks such as giving a speech, a musical performance, or just interacting socially. For example, if you’re giving a speech, you think it’s so obvious to
everyone in the audience how nervous you are. When, in fact, they often have no
idea how nervous you are. Unless, of course, you’re constantly stuttering and
starting over, and your body is visibly shaking. This is
usually not the case where we show such extremely visible signs of nervousness.
As musicians, we suffer from the illusion of
transparency when they play. We think that everyone is hearing the same
mistakes we’re hearing. That everyone heard that chord change we botched, the melody note that we fluffed, or that out of tune note in the higher
register. Sometimes this may be the case, but usually it’s not. During live concerts, both the band
members and the audience have a lot things biding for their attention. While
you’re missing that chord change, the drummer might be focused on how to better
lock in with the bass player. At the precise moment that you fluffed that note
in the melody, the guy at the front table probably ordered a beer from the waitress.
As you can see, competition is steep during the context of a performance. You
might be center stage, but you’re not always the center of attention.
In studies done where people tapped out rhythms to songs
they were hearing in their heads while listeners tried to guess the song, they
found that the listener got it right less than 3% of the time. So imagine how
few would notice if they were not listening intently. Imagine if there were three other instruments playing at the same time.
This is important to remember because we can let this false
sense of transparency get in the way of us enjoying what we do--affecting us in live and
recording situations. I can’t keep track of how many times I’ve disregarded a
track from a recording because of a harmonic or rhythmic fluff. Things that were obvious to me, but no one else—unless they were sitting there listening with
the same critical ears with which I listened.
I understand why we want flawless recordings. Who wants to
cringe every time the section with the out-of-tune notes comes around? But one of the dangers of letting the
illusion of transparency infiltrate our musical decisions is that we might
cater to our paranoia rather than to the best musical moments.
There are so many classic jazz recordings where I didn’t
even notice the fluffed melodies or the missed chord changes until having
listened to them for several years. And I’m sure there are some mistakes on some classic records I’ve still not noticed. There’s
so much great music played on those recordings, those minor fluffs seems
inconsequential. In fact, those imperfections give those recordings character and
beauty. Which makes my point: When you cater to one’s paranoia instead of the
great musical moments, you run the risk of only including tracks from recording
sessions that are perfect in terms of satisfying your illusion of transparency
neurosis, however, disregarding recorded moments with real aesthetical value.
In other words, going with the music that’s perfect, but sterile.
I think we’d be a lot better off if we’d realize that things
aren’t always as obvious as we think.
We're not as readable as an iBook. And since we’re looking at things from a psychological perspective, maybe
should practice “selective amnesia.” So when we do make a mistake, we’ll just
forget that it ever happened.
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