A former broadcast technician for the American Music Awards has shared a behind-the-scenes account of the night Shania Twain delivered one of the most electrifying televised performances of the late ’90s. On this day in 1998, Twain took the AMAs stage with “Man! I Feel Like A Woman!” — and according to the technician, the performance sent live TV ratings surging within just three minutes.
The night had been smooth but predictable until her segment approached. Backstage, technicians monitored shifting camera feeds, crew members adjusted lighting rigs, and stagehands positioned set pieces with routine precision. Twain arrived early, wearing the iconic black-and-white ensemble that would soon become synonymous with the performance: sharp lines, bold contrast, and attitude built directly into fabric.
The technician said the atmosphere shifted the moment she walked toward the stage entrance. “There was this charge. Even the camera operators straightened up.”
As the show returned from commercial break, the director counted down. Stage lights rose in crisp white, framing a long, shadowed runway. Twain stepped into the frame right on cue, shoulders squared, expression absolutely controlled. The band snapped into the song’s opening beat — tight, playful, unmistakable.
Viewers watching at home saw the performance as seamless. But backstage, it unfolded like a controlled explosion.
Camera operators were instructed to match Twain’s movements at a nearly aggressive pace — wide shots snapping suddenly into tight angles, handheld units positioned at knee level to capture her signature strut. Every step she took was mirrored by a piece of equipment moving at full speed. The technician recalled hearing the director shouting, “Stay with her! Stay with her!” as Twain glided past the front row.
Within the first minute, the network’s ratings monitor — a system that provided near-real-time projections — began flashing updated figures. A producer leaned in, watching the meter rise faster than expected. “It’s climbing,” he said, stunned. The director, half-listening, responded, “Just keep rolling.”
By the second chorus, the control room was buzzing. The technician said no other segment of the night saw a comparable spike — viewers switching channels, households tuning in, remote controls clicking back to the broadcast. “People felt something was happening,” he said. “That’s the only explanation.”
Twain delivered every gesture with precision: the playful coat toss, the rising vocal lines, the bold glances into specific cameras. When she leaned forward during the bridge, giving a knowing half-smile into the lens, the room behind the scenes erupted in disbelief. “That’s when we knew,” the technician said. “It wasn’t just a performance. It was a takeover.”
The final thirty seconds sealed the moment. Twain hit the last notes with clean power, the lights snapped into a deep amber wash, and the audience rose instantly to their feet. Backstage, monitors showed the live rating indicator peaking — the highest point of the entire broadcast.
“She didn’t just boost the show,” the technician recalled. “She changed its temperature.”
The performance became an instant talking point, replayed on morning news programs and highlighted by critics who praised both the vocal execution and the swagger. But for those in the control room, the moment was unforgettable for another reason: they watched a performance change the numbers in real time.
“It’s rare to see the impact before the applause even stops,” the technician said. “But that night, it was undeniable. Three minutes — that’s all it took.”