How to Create a Common Worship Team Language

When I was 14 or so, I finally received the gift that I'd dreamt of for years: my first electric guitar and amp. My parents found an American-made Fender Stratocaster (it's still my #1) and an entry-level amplifier at a local store, and I was finally able to play along to worship and Christian rock records with the right kind of sound (or so I thought). 

After a few months of playing my favorite songs through my my gear, I asked if I could join the church worship team in rehearsals, and I was welcomed in. My first Sunday morning, I arrived early, got set up, and awaited for my turn to get things dialed things in.

As you can imagine, I was excited (and a bit nervous) to jump in and play with people I looked up to, and I knew that since I had a "rig," I could finally create music with the sounds that resonated within my soul: edgy, overdriven guitar tones that seared into the subconsciousness of all who heard. When it was my turn to check my levels, I enthusiastically cranked my volume up, set my two-channel amp to "drive," and began powering through the chord progressions on the chart in front of me. Then, a voice from the center of the platform interrupted my blissful moment:

"Can you make your sound a bit brighter? Your amp sounds really muddy."

Uh.... what?

I had no idea what this person was talking about. First of all, my tone was killer—it didn't need to be adjusted! Second, I had no concept of "bright" or "muddy"—and I was too embarrassed to say that I didn't know what this person was talking about.

Since I had no idea what to do, another team member walked over and started tweaking the settings on my amp. Inwardly, I was frustrated that my tone—MY TONE—was being fiddled around, but I was equally embarrassed upon realizing my ignorance despite months of playing my rig. 

It ended up being a simple fix—all that was needed was a rolling back of my "low" knob and boosting the "high" knob. Still, the sticking point (aside from my ego being bruised) was the request being made to a beginner by someone more experienced.

Had the question been, "Your amp sounds a bit muddy; where are the high and low knobs set?" then I would've had some context to draw upon to accommodate the needed change. 

This is why it's absolutely crucial to have a common understanding of terms, or a "language," when you're communicating with your team. 

If someone is brought into the fold, especially inexperienced members, then it's even more important to draw out more details in that communication—abstract terms like "bright" or "muddy" are too vague.

This goes into other areas, too. For instance, we often use terms like "get big" or "bring it down" when referring to dynamics, but there are implications within those phrases that aren't always universally understood. For a drummer, "get big" could mean to use more toms, but what if you meant to have them swell the cymbals through that section of the song? These orchestration choices create drastically different moods, so you must clarify what "get big" means in that moment.

For singers, I often hear, "We're not singing together—let's try it again." Well, what are they supposed to do with that? Try this: "Singers, let's adjust how we're matching our phrasing. Here's the melody by itself so you can hear where I'm pushing accents, and take note of how I'm pronouncing the words." That brings focus to the instruction and feedback you give to your singers, and they now have actionable direction when it comes to matching rhythms and diction.

These are just a few examples, but this goes to show that your team communication and shared language directly affect the quality of your performances. When you dial in your language, team efficiency is elevated, and you can all move into the deeper areas of your collective craft to offer your best in worship.

Be blessed 👊✌️