Guys. It happened again. I had a battle (against one of the biggest opponents I’ve ever faced, this time, just to spice things up) and I choked. I choked for a while.
It’s hard to describe the phenomenon that is choking. It is the singularly most frustrating thing associated with battle rap, in my humble, humble and incredibly expert and clever opinion.
I had around 6 months to prep for this battle. I wrote everything at the start and structured everything a lot later on in the process, finishing and recording (to rehearse) everything 1 month in advance of the event date. I could do the material in my sleep by the time I got to the day.
I had some stumbles here and there when practicing, but I always do. I don’t tend to worry about that so much as I know the adrenaline on the day will put me into a sort of ultra instinct mode where I don’t have to think as much about what I’m saying, it just comes out in the best way I am capable of.
I put safety assurances in place, too, lest I stumble and can’t pick it back up. For a lot of the sections, for example, I will take a word or phrase used in the writing and link an image with it, and then make another image for the next section that interacts with the first image in order to strengthen the recall muscle. But I only really tend to do this with segments that I struggle on, or always forget.
This is why this choke was SO brutal.
Just before I went on stage, I got all 3 rounds out, basically without error, whilst stood in the smoking area of a booming Irish bar (I suppose they just call them ‘bars’ over there) blaring out classics with a drunk guy asking me for money, then cigarettes, then a lighter AND TWO ‘Wee Toast Tours’, which consist of about 10 people sat around a sort of mobile table, all pedalling to keep it moving, with the entire contraption being steered by one sober guy at the front of it. They’re loud, when you pack on a group of men or women enjoying themselves. But all of that didn’t put me off, I was able to go through it.
But when I got on stage, something didn’t KICK IN like it usually does. There’s usually this feeling of supreme confidence, fun, excitement and readiness. But this time I felt like I was forever chasing the next line, looking for the words, tutting, closing my eyes, it just wasn’t the same and I don’t know why.
This led to a serious bit of doubt in my mind and when it came to the 2nd round and no inspiration had struck for a rebuttal (which didn’t stop me from doing an utterly shite one), I was even more knocked. I got to around the 5th or 6th line, when a whole 16-24 line section had completely vanished from my head.
I had never had trouble with this bit, I had always just flowed naturally onto the next section, but on stage it just went for a fucking walk.
I was panicking, internally, but having a little experience with chokes and having seen so many of them in the past, I knew I couldn’t show the panic, because nothing is more off-putting to audience members than seeing their performer lose their control.
So, I acted like it was a totally normal thing. As if I was practicing outside with a mate and kept it as natural as possible so that I could try and make the best out of a bad thing. I went to diss his shoes. Turned out he had really nice shoes on, so I left it. I felt like it was important to talk to the crowd, or at least refer to them, too. So I made some light chat, while I tried to get the next bit and… yeah… I mean…
… The choke was a travesty and to have my material fall down like that in front of everybody was devastating as a performer. But I tried not to let it put the rest of the performance off. I mean, it did a bit, obviously. And it sucked the momentum from the crowd, unfortunately. I think what happens in the viewers’ heads is that they’re no longer suspended in disbelief, they’re taken out of the experience and they are now just hoping, praying that you don’t choke again.
That creates this awkward kind of unwanted tension where everybody’s just relieved to see you not struggling, so they’re not reeeeaaaalllly listening to you and absorbing the material in the same way. They’re just crossing their fingers so you don’t fuck up.
And it’s so depressing as a writer because I’m prouder of my writing than my performance, generally, and that’s all I really want to showcase. So, to work for so long on it and then deliver it subpar is just a nightmare, because it’s pretty much wasted, now.
But, look: every battle teaches you something and there’s no such thing as a wasted failure and all the other cliches you can’t remember your parents saying are probably true, but it doesn’t take the sting away from it.
Not to take blame away from myself at all, but the main thing I learned from this is that you can fuck up no matter how much you prep. That doesn’t dismiss the importance of practice, it just means that adrenaline, instinct and the effect of performing is always going to be somewhat unpredictable. I’ve heard of people hallucinating on stage, professionally trained actors totally forgetting soliloquys they’ve said twice a day for a year and singers who forget the lyrics to their own songs that they’ve sung a thousand times. What can you do?
Who knows what it was that day that made me not fully connect with the performance? Being a relatively new dad couldn’t have helped. I essentially haven’t had a good night’s sleep in 7 and a half months. So, yeah, actually, I blame my son. And I do think I’m going to make his life pretty miserable because of it. Hit him with the old resenchilada. Sorry, mate. But you couldn’t sleep a whole night through so daddy’s career’s in the bin. Don’t feel bad, now he’s got a great job as a rent boy, servicing holes in the wall. These really are my ‘glory’ days.
Cheers, Shuffle.
Classic Rap Chokes
A selection of classic choking from across the years in battle rap.