Don't panic, it's not all about me.....need to have a quick chat about some Ghost boat thing.

If you regularly read this drivel you may have noticed that I have a penchant for opera at the cinema. I like seeing opera in this way because the atmosphere in a cinema compared to an opera house is so chilled out and the place is unlikely to sell out so you tend to find yourself having a whole row to yourself and nobody notices if you fall asleep. Always a bonus.

I used to love opera. I still appreciate it but I can't say I love it now. To be fair watching in a cinema is no substitute for seeing the genre live really. The sound in a cinema, no matter how good, can never replicate the power of the voice of an opera singer going at full pelt. There are advantages though. As long as you don't have a chorus who feel it necessary to react to every tiny little thing, being up close, in the middle of the action can be quite exciting. Having said that you are at the mercy of the editor as to what you get to see as they will decide what we as an audience need to see at any particular moment in time but that's just a small quibble.

I am not a fan of Wagner. Last night I saw, in it's entirety, only my second Wagner opera. I saw "Die Walküre" a couple of years back, again at the cinema, and last night I saw the ROH production of "Der fliegende Holländer" with the mighty Bryn Terfel and Adrianne Pieczonka. The singing was stonkingly good, truly fantastic. Bryn was brooding and dark while Pieczonka was hopeful and bright. I have always loved Pieczonka. I think she has the most incredible instrument housed in her body. It is a big voice but because of the shimmer she has at the top you never feel like she is beating you over the head with it the way some dramatic female voices do. She is also a stunningly good actress. It is an overused phrase these days but she really is a true stage animal. 

These two giants of the operatic world were joined by another giant but one who was feeling a little under the weather so an announcement was made at the beginning to ask us to bear with him. They needn't have as far as we in the cinema were concerned, Peter Rose was actually on good form. Totally holding his own as Daland with the other two even if he did resemble a Sontaran from Doctor Who. The chorus, too, were better than I have heard them in a while. The regular chorus were joined by a large number of extra chorus members and I kind of wish I had been in the theatre itself as at one point the stage was filled with men. Don't get the wrong idea, I wish I had been there because the sound must have been enormous.

All in all, I enjoyed it and the two and a bit hours, no interval, flew by. It was a surprise when the end came as it felt there should be another hour to go. This was where I got confused. I wasn't totally up on the story before I went to see it but I knew the legend of the Flying Dutchman and figured that Bryn Terfel's character was probably not going to get the girl, well not in the conventional sense anyway. I am assuming Senta is supposed to be seen doing summat she shouldn't with Erik to make the Dutchman spurn her and set sail alone but in this production she didn't appear to do anything (I might have missed it of course). Then I assumed, after Senta yells after him (The Dutchman that is) that she will remain true to him until death, she would probably kill herself but she just carried her little model boat, she had had since the beginning, to the centre of the stage and cried a bit. A total anticlimax.

That said I had a nice time. Still not convinced by Wagner though. Now, feel free to stop reading here as I am going to write a teeny tiny bit about my cabaret that DID happen on Sunday. So if you are fed up of hearing about it please go about your business and think no more about it.

There was a good turnout, about 44 people turned up (mostly friends or friends of friends, I think there were only 7 people who had no connection to me in attendance) so it was more successful in that respect than I had been expecting. It was only once it was done that I realised what an undertaking it had been. The running times were 45 minutes first half and 40 minutes second half. That is a LONG time to hold your own. I totally understand why people invite "guests" to join them on the stage during these affairs. Takes the pressure off a bit.

Everybody asked afterwards "did you enjoy it?". The honest answer was no, but not in a bad way. I didn't hate it and I want to do it again, and I want to do it again soon, but as a friend said to me, Sunday night was like having your tech rehearsal, dress rehearsal and first night (and last night) all at the same time. This was the first time I had tried out the show. In the future it might be an idea to rent a small hall and invite a few friends to come and see it for free just to give myself the opportunity to try out my material to see what works and what doesn't. To be fair there wasn't much I would change in the material I had but I hope I can deliver it better next time. I forgot a lot and got a bit lost at times, however, I am not terrible at getting myself out of a hole so I don't think I made any of my audience feel uncomfortable when I lost my way.

With hindsight, I am SO proud of myself for getting up and doing it. There is a huge difference between doing a 25 minute set on a bill with 3 other acts and what was, effectively, a one-woman show with 90 minutes of just me (and, of course, the wonderful Simona Budd on the piano). This was an immense achievement and one I need to do again. Who would have thought that 4 years of opera training would have led to this.

If anyone is interested in reading someone else's opinion of Sunday night then follow this link:

How did it come to this? The Pheasantry

I'm King of the World....well Queen of, but that isn't really a thing.

So, Thursday the 10th of July came and went. My cabaret happened. Nobody died, well someone, somewhere in the world will have died but not as a result of my singing. All went, almost, to plan. I was remarkably calm and collected and totally ready for it. I, kind of, pretended I was really nervous but, by the time people arrived, I had resigned myself to the fact that I had to either just do it or fake a heart attack and get taken to hospital. Even I am not prone to such dramatic outbursts so I got on the stage and I did my 20/25 minutes of, well, something.

The Pheasantry, a Pizza Express on the King's Road, is SUCH a nice place to sing. I did not have to push, I had no problem hearing myself and the acoustic was (to me whilst singing) nice and pingy (technical term). I say I didn't have to push, this was, at least partly due to the fact that I chose not to sing anything that went above an F (an octave and a bit above middle C for those who understand such things) so, as a soprano, this was akin to a night off. I was in total control of my voice which is a feeling I have not had in an awfully long time. 

There was a tiny, nervous wobble in my first song which resulted in one of two moments of forgetfulness but for the first time ever, and I mean ever, it did not bother me and I just turned it into part of the "act". If the same happened in a musical or opera I would be beating myself up for days and, if the performance were to be repeated, be sitting in a corner rocking whilst reciting the words over and over again in an attempt to stop the same thing happening again. In this particular instance I actually enjoyed, I think that is the word I want to use, the way it added to everything. I am not planning to work this word slippage into my performances from now on but it is so nice to feel that it won't bother me if it happens again in future performances, and it inevitably will.

Remembering of words was the ONLY thing I was worried about, the only thing I was nervous about. For the first time in my performing life I felt I knew exactly what I was doing and that I was in total control. This feeling was cultivated with the help of my pianist, Simona Budd. Although we had only met once before the show I felt totally at ease and totally supported. She listens, to the point of it feeling like she was reading my mind at one moment, and went with everything I did. This happens rarely. I have only worked with a handful of pianists who I have this kind of connection with and she has definitely been added to the very short list. 

I was exceedingly lucky that I had an amazing audience who were supportive from the off. Not just because I had many, many wonderful friends there but the general vibe in the room was so calming. There was excitement but no huge, unreachable expectations. You could feel every, single person willing the people on stage to do well. Although you can not always be lucky enough to have this sort of support at every gig I was so, so grateful that I did for my first attempt at cabaret. It was lovely to surprise everyone in the room and exceed their, not unreachable, expectations, however, it was even more satisfying and surprising to have exceeded my own. I am hopelessly self critical so, for me, the fact that I LOVED every single second of my set and, even though things did go "wrong" they actually didn't as I would not have wanted the things that went wrong to have gone right as they made the whole experience even more special as I handled the mistakes in my own way and didn't apologise for my very existence (sorry for the long sentence). Apologising for my existence is something I am prone to do most of the time.

A friend of mine, who has done shows at The Pheasantry before, said something to me that summed up my experience. She didn't actually get to see me strut my stuff but she said the experience is "quite empowering once you start". This hit the nail on the head for me. I think the fact that it was my own material (not the songs, I did not write them) created a sense of achievement in myself I have not had before. I had put together 5 songs and found a way to link them and written blurb to say in between that people actually laughed at. I think the fact that people actually, genuinely laughed, not that fake laughing people can do to try to keep your spirits up when it really isn't funny, was the most thrilling and empowering thing about it. For the first time in a long time I feel I am good at something again.

So what next, I hear you cry? I, for one, can not wait to do it again. I already have another 20 minutes planned out in my head so put it together with what I already have that is, count it, a 40 minute set. So watch this space as, hopefully, there will be much more to come. 

After all these years and all that training, all those big shows and tours who would have thought that 20 minutes on a tiny stage in Chelsea, just me and a fabulous pianist, would make for the best 20 minutes I have experienced on a stage. Ever!

....and a Happy New Year

So, I have been a little bit "bah humbug" in the run up to Christmas. I normally pride myself on my present buying skills but this year there has been a definite lack of inspiration. Therefore, I apologise to anyone who has received a gift from me this year as you would be better off with nowt at all.

Anyway that said I am writing this on Christmas Day while I wait for dinner to be served. I have watched the film "Nativity" to try and get in the mood. It sort of worked, inspiration wise, as the songs are so fabulous I feel like starting a stage school for kids just so we can do a mini version of that Nativity and sing those songs. I am now watching/listening to the John Wilson Orchestra with Seth MacFarlane and Anna-Jane Casey performing a load of Christmas and swing tunes. And fabulous it is too. It is nice to see Mr MacFarlane in the flesh and not just hear his voice on some adult cartoon (that sounds dodgier than it should. By adult cartoon I, of course, mean "Family Guy" and "American Dad").

I will not bore you any longer on this day of all days. I just thought I should say Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Normal, incompetent service will resume imminently with a piece about summat right exciting and, if you are lucky, it might be mildly amusing too.

Enjoy the festive season and, if you missed it, get your laughing gear around this (I PROMISE this is the last time I will try to foist this onto you - until next December!)

O holy night - greatest version ever (listen to the end - that is an order)

Another milestone reached and what do I want to talk about?....John "flipping" Rutter.

So, here we are at the quarter century of diary entries. Whoever would have thought I would have enough of this trash to fill that many! I am celebrating this fact by writing this in Purley Cross Tesco's Costa overlooking the veg display with the dry ice thingy in it. I have my favourite sandwich (Emmental and mushroom - no mistake this time! See [title of show] is the title of show?.....My brain hurts for details) and THE best Christmas coffee, discovered by myself and Madame Giry whilst in Milton Keynes with the Phantom of the Opera tour (that tour had some plus sides), the salted caramel latte (sans cream otherwise I would undo all the good work I have done with Zumba and Body Combat). This would be my idea of heaven if I was not in Tesco but, hey, you really can't have it all.

Right then, Rutter! I promised in the last entry to talk a little more about the concert I did a couple of weeks ago. To be fair there is no more to say about my contribution. If you blinked, albeit twice, at the wrong time you would have missed me so I have eked all possible dirt out of that aspect of the concert. However, there is more to say about my good friend Helen Withers. She had the joy/misfortune, depending on your thoughts about Rutter (the old Marmite adage comes in to play here), to be the soprano soloist in the concert's second half offering, Rutter's "Requiem".

I am not a Rutter fan. I don't like Marmite either. In fact I would go so far as to say I loathe the stuff. Not in the way I used to hate gin, coffee and olives, all of which I love now. I will NEVER like Marmite. Oh dear, I must tell you, a woman has sat down on the table adjacent and is eating her sandwich with her mouth open. I can not stay here. I must leave before I am arrested for murder! I will return shortly.

Ok, I have retreated to the comfort of my sofa. So, Rutter, not my cup of tea but I thought I might as well stay for the second half of the concert for 3 reasons:

1) To support my most excellent friend

2) To be able to go for a nice glass of red with said excellent friend following the concert and

3) To hear a bit of Rutter live.

It occurred to me that I had never actually listened to a whole choral work by Rutter. This is partly because, up until this moment, I had refused to. Having heard the terrible word setting of his version of "All things Bright and Beautiful" I just could not bring myself to let my ears be violated by his schmaltzy mediocrity. I had been totally put off by the line "all creatures great a a and small" have a listen and you will understand (or not, if you are a fan). Now you may think "schmaltzy mediocrity" is a little harsh but I was 18 when I first heard examples of his work and, of course, I knew everything so surely everyone would agree with me! If not it must mean they were totally stupid. I no longer feel the same. He is still never going to make it onto any playlist on my iPod but I do "get it". I understand the appeal and would never think anyone "stupid" for enjoying his back catalogue.

His "Requiem" did not make me want to break things. It was perfectly pleasant and I let it wash over me. There were interesting moments but I am not about to go to my local HMV (not quite so local any more) to buy any of his output but I now know I can endure a little Rutter if it is in the programme. The piece was made even more bearable by the inclusion of Helen Withers as the soloist. She will probably hate me for saying it but she was in stunning voice and her contributions, in the 2 movements that include a soprano soloist, were quite magical. The pianissimo she is able to produce at the very top of her voice is simply divine. I used to have that facility, sadly no longer. I am still contemplating moving down to mezzo. Life would be so much easier. Which is ironic because......

Helen and I were at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama together where we both survived the opera course from 2000-2002. She was Dorabella to my Fiordiligi in "Cosi fan tutte" from which the more knowledgable among you may deduce that Helen might have been a mezzo once upon a time (not necessarily as I know sopranos have been known to do this rôle too). However, you are right, she was, but she has worked hard and made the transition to soprano and is an awful lot better than she thinks she is! In my humble opinion she should never be out of work but then I could say that about a lot of people, probably some of you reading this right now. I urge you to click on the following link, that will take you to her website, and have a listen to some of her music clips to see what I mean.
www.helenwithers.com

I won't embarrass Helen further with anymore gushing opinions concerning her talent (that sounds rude doesn't it? I think you know what I mean though) but I wanted to share with you the way age has helped me to become more tolerant of those things I would, in days gone by, refuse to give any sort of a chance to. This does NOT apply to Marmite, though, and never will.

Oh, by the way as we are into December now it seems only right that I leave you with the link to the best rendition of "O Holy Night" you will ever hear. I have been bothering people with this on Facebook so chances are you have heard it. However, if not, you HAVE to listen to the end. Do not think you have heard enough by the end of the first chorus it gets SO much better.

O, Holy Night - you are welcome!

Merry Christmas!