Trust in OneTrackMinds

Whether on the MainStage at Wiltons or our Hidden Track nights at the Omeara trust plays a huge part in our shows at OneTrackMinds.

We ask our guests to tell a story about a song that changed their lives — and leave the rest to them. We often don’t ask anyone to send us their story ahead of time. We rarely ask them what their story is about. Usually, the time we find out is when the audience is in, the lights are on and the mic is live.

This sounds a bit reckless, doesn’t it? Perhaps you might be thinking: “What if the speaker is boring? Or speaks for far too long? What if they’re massively offensive? Where’s the quality control?”.

And these are valid questions, every one. But there is something in the freedom we give to our guests — and the trust involved in that — that lends itself to the magic that the show has to offer.

But let’s look at each of those issues in turn. First, causing offense. OneTrackMinds is fuelled by people’s willingness to share something genuinely personal. Stories about times when they’ve felt insecure, lost, afraid, inspired, in love, in pain, comedically inept or out of place. Or when they’ve sought for and hopefully found adventure, belonging, friendship and purpose. If you’ve seen the show you know this. OneTrackMinds isn’t really the forum for ideas or viewpoints that fall too far outside our governing principles of inclusion and empathy.

Don’t get me wrong. There is also a selection process in terms of which guests we get on and a growing list of people we’d love to come on and share the story of their song. Spoiler alert — Nigel Farage, Nick Griffin, and Piers Morgan are not at the top of it.

OK, next — people running over time. It’s happened, it’s no fun and it’s not fair to the audience or the other storytellers. I will, however, say two things in their defence. One, they have usually been unaware during and/or then incredibly apologetic afterwards. Two, despite digressions and rabbit holes, a moving or entertaining heart has always sat somewhere in the delivery. Still, if you come on the show and go over, we may kill you. (With kindness, maybe, but kill you nonetheless ;)).

Finally. The ultimate fear. What if they’re unengaging?

This has literally never happened.

Of course, we are blessed with great storytellers. We’re picking poets, actors and directors with baftas, award winning comedians, pullitzer prize winning writers, philosophers — creative people who do incredibly cool things and whose job it is to look at the world differently! Guilty as charged. That is sort of the point.

However, how does that apply to our Hidden Tracks guests? At our spin off show at Omeara London, our storytellers are members of the public from all walks of life. They come to do exactly the same thing as the MainStage line-up, but who, for the most part, don’t have any sort of background in performance or public speaking.

We have had Doctors, technicians, sound designers, window sellers, people in PR, lawyers, full time parents and PAs. They come to challenge themselves out of their comfort zone and embrace the massive challenge of opening up in front of a packed theatre. Many of them are anything but an extrovert. Few — if any — are looking to make a break into a career in Theatre, TV or Stand-up Comedy. So how is it that these stories are as consistently spine-tingling as their more seasoned counterparts at the MainStage?

It’s the same answer we give to anyone who tells us, “I don’t have a story/song”, “My life hasn’t been interesting,” or “No-one wants to hear a story from me.”

The simple truth is that if you have ever been in love, experienced joy or loss, even lost yourself or found yourself, if you’ve ever been moved to laughter, tears, disappointment or inspiration, then chances are that you have a story that will resonate with everyone in that room.

That truth, and the trust we firmly place in it, has only ever left us with a rapt audience feeling privileged after being invited into six totally different worlds with totally different soundtracks to enhance the empathetic experience.

If you don’t believe me — come and see for yourself.