Let me tell you something that took me years to figure out – and to say it changed everything about how I approach live performance is an understatement. There's this massive difference between playing a solo that's technically perfect and playing one that absolutely electrifies a room. Mind you, I spent way too many years chasing the wrong thing before I got this right.
Picture this: you're at a show, maybe it's a jazz festival or a corporate gig, doesn't matter. The band kicks into a song, and it's time for the saxophone solo. Player A steps up – this cat has studied at Berklee, can play every scale known to humanity, throws in some serious chromatic runs that would make Charlie Parker nod in approval. Technically flawless. Harmonically sophisticated. The other musicians on stage are impressed. But look out at the audience – they're checking their phones, chatting with their neighbor, or worse, heading to the bar.
Then Player B takes their turn. Maybe they hit a few notes that aren't textbook perfect, maybe their harmonic choices are more predictable, but something magical happens. They lock eyes with someone in the front row, throw their body into the music, maybe even step off the stage and walk through the crowd while playing. Suddenly everyone's phones are down, conversations stop, and the energy in the room shifts completely. That's the difference between an OK solo and a WOW!! solo right there.
I learned this lesson the hard way, and it wasn't pretty. Early in my career, I was obsessed – and I mean obsessed – with technical perfection. I'd practice scales until my lips were numb, memorize every bebop lick I could find, and study jazz theory like I was preparing for a PhD exam. When it came time to solo at gigs, I'd pull out all the stops. Complex chord substitutions, lightning-fast runs, the works.
But here's what nobody tells you in music school: audiences don't care about your altered dominant chords if they can't feel what you're feeling. They want to be moved, not impressed with your harmonic knowledge. To say this was a humbling realization is putting it mildly.
The turning point came during a festival gig in Miami – I won't name names, but let's just say it was a big deal. I had prepared what I thought was going to be the solo of my life. Technically ambitious, harmonically sophisticated, the kind of thing that would make my old professors proud. When my moment came, I delivered everything I had practiced. It was note-perfect.
The response? Polite applause. That's it.
But then the guitarist took his solo. This guy wasn't half the technical player I was – I'm not being arrogant here, just stating facts. But he had something I didn't understand yet: he knew how to connect. He started simple, built energy gradually, and by the end he had the entire crowd on their feet. He made eye contact, he moved with the music, he even cracked a smile. The audience ate it up.
That night changed everything for me.
Here's what I've learned about what separates a WOW!! solo from just an OK one, and it has surprisingly little to do with how many notes you can play per minute.
Attitude is everything. Before you even play your first note, the audience is reading your body language. Are you confident? Are you enjoying yourself? Or are you standing there looking like you're solving a math problem? I've seen technically inferior players absolutely destroy crowds because they walked on stage like they owned the place. Confidence – real confidence, not arrogance – is magnetic.
Eye contact changes everything. This one simple technique transformed my performances more than years of practice. When you make genuine eye contact with people in the audience, you create individual connections. Suddenly it's not one person performing for a crowd; it's a personal conversation between you and each listener. I try to connect with different sections of the audience throughout my solo – front row, middle, back, left side, right side. Everyone gets their moment.
Tell a story, don't just show off. Every great solo has a beginning, middle, and end. It takes the listener on a journey. Maybe you start soft and intimate, build to an explosive climax, then bring it back down for a tender ending. Or perhaps you begin with a familiar melody everyone recognizes, then transform it into something unexpected. The technical chops are just the tools – the story is what matters.
Physical movement amplifies emotional connection. Music is a physical art form, but too many of us play like statues. When you move with the music – and I mean really move, not just swaying back and forth – you're showing the audience how the music makes you feel. That emotion becomes contagious. Some of my most memorable solos have involved stepping away from the mic, walking through the audience, or even getting down on one knee during a particularly emotional passage.
Know your room and play to it. A corporate cocktail party calls for a completely different approach than a late-night jazz club or an outdoor festival. At a corporate event, maybe your WOW!! moment comes from playing a familiar melody that gets people singing along. At a jazz club, it might be a more adventurous harmonic exploration that showcases your artistry. Reading the room is a skill that trumps technical ability every single time.
Timing is everything – and I'm not talking about rhythm. Knowing when to lay back, when to push forward, when to leave space, and when to fill it up – these decisions make or break a solo. Sometimes the most powerful moment is what you don't play. I've gotten bigger reactions from a well-placed pause than from my fastest runs.
Let me share a recent example. Last month at the Azucar Festival, I had a choice to make during my featured solo spot. I could either showcase this incredibly complex arrangement I'd been working on – something that would have impressed every musician in the building – or I could go with my gut and play something that felt right for that specific moment and crowd.
I chose to start with a simple, recognizable melody – "Smooth Operator" – and then gradually transformed it, adding Latin rhythms, jazz harmonies, and funk grooves. By the end, people were dancing, singing along, and completely engaged. Was it my most technically challenging performance? Not even close. But it was exactly what that audience needed in that moment.
Here's the thing about showmanship – it's not about being fake or putting on an act. The best performers are the ones who find ways to authentically share their genuine love for the music. When you're truly enjoying what you're doing, when you're in the moment and connected to the music, that joy becomes infectious. People can sense authenticity from a mile away, and they respond to it.
I'm not saying technical skill doesn't matter – it absolutely does. You need the chops to back up your showmanship. But technical skill without emotional connection is just musical masturbation. It might impress other musicians, but it won't move audiences. And let's be honest, the other musicians aren't the ones buying tickets or booking your next gig.
The musicians I admire most – the ones who consistently pack venues and create unforgettable experiences – they understand this balance. They have the technical ability to play whatever they want, but they choose to play what the moment demands. They're skilled enough to be free, to take risks, to let the music flow through them rather than trying to control every note.
This shift in thinking has transformed not just my performances, but my entire relationship with music. Instead of seeing each solo as a chance to prove how much I've practiced, I now see it as an opportunity to create a shared experience with everyone in the room. Instead of focusing on impressing people, I focus on connecting with them.
And you know what? The irony is that when you stop trying so hard to show off your technical skills and start focusing on emotional connection, your playing actually gets better. When you're relaxed and in the moment, your technique flows more naturally. When you're connecting with the audience, your musical choices become more intuitive and effective.
To anyone out there grinding through practice sessions, working on their chops, preparing for their next performance – remember that all that technical work is important, but it's just the foundation. The real magic happens when you step on stage and share your authentic self with the audience. That's when an OK solo becomes a WOW!! solo.
Trust me, your audience will thank you for it.
