There is nothing—and I mean nothing—worse than standing on a stage, looking out at a crowd, and realising within ten seconds that you've completely misread the room.
I've been there. I've done the Parkdean thing, and let me tell you, if you walk out into a room full of families on a Friday night and start with something too moody or some niche deep cut that only three people in the world actually like, you can practically hear the energy leaking out of the room. It's like watching a balloon deflate in slow motion.
The set list isn't just a list of songs you're good at. It's a map. If you don't know where you are and who you're talking to, you're just making noise.
When I was doing the troupe stuff, singing Janet Jackson or Tina, it wasn't just about hitting the notes—though, obviously, you've got to hit the notes—it was about the vibe. You've got to feel the crowd. Are they hammered? Are they bored? Are they actually there to listen, or is the music just the background to their fish and chips?
If you've got a crowd that's buzzing, you feed that. You give them the anthems. You give them the stuff they can scream back at you without thinking. You don't "experiment" with a ten-minute jazz fusion version of a pop song when people just want to feel something and have a dance. That's how you lose them.
But the real trick—the bit they don't tell you—is knowing when to pull them in. You can't just go 100mph for an hour; you'll burn out and they'll get exhausted. You have to drop them into something real, something that hits them in the chest, and then lift them back up. That's the art of the set list. It's a conversation.
My dad's mix CDs were like that. He didn't just throw songs on randomly; there was a flow to it. Those eight-hour drives to Cornwall only worked because the music matched the mood of the road.
Whether you're in a pub in Liverpool, a holiday camp, or a massive arena, the rule is the same: the audience is the boss. You might love that one weird B-side from 1974, but if the room doesn't feel it, it doesn't belong in the set.
Read the room. Respect the vibe. And for the love of god, don't play a ballad when everyone's ready to riot.