Blinded by the light

The world is swallowed up by darkness, apart from one dazzling white light which does not seem to illuminate anything.  Music wafts towards me.  I am blinded and trembling with raw fear.

Six months after singing "Cabaret" at my birthday party, I am a cabaret act, and the thing that is lit up is me.

I'm here because I saw the sign.

Bill and I were going to see a play in the Adelaide Festival of Arts.  He let me out to collect the tickets, while he parked the car.  As I sauntered down the road towards the theatre, I stopped to look in a window.  I'd vaguely noticed it before; where an old tobacconist shop used to be - what is this place? .

"La Boheme" - a bar and nightclub.  Flyers in the windows advertise some of the acts performing there.  One poster spruiks a show called "Cabaret Live".  It asks me three questions:

• Have you been singing in your lounge room?
• Has it become too small for you?
• Would you like to sing here, in front of a discerning and supportive audience?

I answer "Yes!" to 1,2 and 3.

The poster instructs me "First Sunday of every month.  Bring your own sheet music, or choose from our extensive library."

So it's sort of like "piano karaoke"?  Sounds cool!

After the play, I take Bill to look at the sign.  

I say "I have to go to it."  

He says "Why?"

He is very concerned that it will be seedy.  Perhaps he is imagining some sort of strip club.

But a week later, we arrive at La Boheme, together with two friends who want to hear me sing again.

It is like entering a lost world.  The place is decorated in period Parisian style, dripping with atmosphere.

Click here to have a look at La Boheme

I am greeted warmly by Nikki who is hosting the show.  She asks me "Are you having a Fringe show that you'd like us to promote?"  Er, no...and it seems that amongst the eight performers I am the only one who has come straight from the lounge room.  Everyone else has a Fringe show.

La Boheme is gorgeous.  Except that I am the entertainment.  What was I thinking - inviting our friends to watch me die on stage?

I am emblazoned against a huge red velvet curtain.  Piano accompaniment ripples lushly.  The microphone in my hand has a life of its own - what is making it jump around like that?  All of a sudden I can see the audience!  I'm a speaker, so I pace up and down the stage.  I've wandered out of the spotlight, so I can see them - the only problem is, they can no longer see me.  Intrigued by this phenomenon, I wander in and out of the light.

I'm singing "Fly Me To The Moon".  As I enter the second verse, my mind goes blank.  I seize up with terror.  But then I hear the words that I should be singing.  It's Chris, the pianist - he's my saviour.  When I get to the end of the song I hear applause.  The lights come on and there they are - my husband and our friends, still in the front row.

I'm not dead - I'm a cabaret performer.

In the second half of the show, Nikki encourages me to perform again.  This time I'm singing "It Might As Well Be Spring".  Again I draw a blank and again Chris rescues me, enabling me to finish the song with my self-respect intact.  

Right there and then I decide - I'm coming here every month.  This is what's going to take me to the next level.