Salter Cane is playing a gig tonight in Brighton.

Our band has been playing gigs for years now. We’ve done everything from stuck-in-the-corner-of-a-pub shows to small festivals to opening slots for fairly well-known bands at some of Brighton’s bigger venues. Our gigs are usually fairly successful as regards turnout and reception, and they often wind up being quite fun as well. But no matter the venue, no matter how well-practiced we are, and no matter how many concerts we’ve successfully played in the past, I always feel exactly the same way throughout the day leading up to the gig: kind of sick to my stomach.

Actually, that’s exaggerating somewhat; I don’t get nauseous, but I do spend all day with cold hands and a fluttery tummy, I struggle to concentrate on anything, and I find myself glancing at the clock every 10 minutes to see if it’s time to get ready yet. I don’t get crippling stage fright, but I get the type of performance anxiety that makes me feel like I’ve had 50 cups of coffee before I get on stage and then makes me feel horribly self-conscious when I’m finally up there.

I always say that if I could play a gig while standing behind a screen so that no one could see me, I’d be immeasurably happier. Since that’s not really an option (unless I want to come across as very, very pretentious and/or very, very weird), I’ve had to perfect the art of turning a “frozen with fear” look into a stance of “detached cool.” Incredibly, this seems to have worked, as I’ve heard more than once that I look totally nonchalant on stage—in which case, I’ve pulled off a terrific feat of deception.

I’m sure my discomfort comes back to the perfectionism/neurotic imposture thing. I’m appalled at the thought of making a mistake while playing in public, and I’m always certain that there’s going to be someone standing in the audience who looks at me and thinks, “She’s faking it!” I know both of these concerns are ludicrous; even if someone did catch a mistake (and 9 times out of 10, they don’t), no one really cares, and the very fact that I am standing on stage playing bass in a band (and have done so for many years) makes me a bass player and not a big fake. But still.

It’s not all bad, though. There are those rare times when we’re up there on stage, and all the instruments sound right, and we’re all in the flow, and suddenly it doesn’t even matter to me that there’s a crowd there. It doesn’t happen to me nearly often enough, but the nights when it does happen make all the nerves and discomfort worthwhile. I’m hoping tonight will be one of those nights.