A minute is an eternity

Everyone's songs have lodged themselves in my head.  I awake with someone's tune buzzing in my brain, but at least I have finally managed to get a reasonable sleep.  When I look at the clock I see I've even had a bit of a sleep-in.

Tonight I will perform my new cabaret miniature, "Sex with the City: a love affair with Rio" at Star Theatres.

I get up and go for a walk.  While I walk, I work through my patter, but only once, as Catherine wants me to be spontaneous and not over-rehearsed.  On her advice, I identify the main points I want to make, and where they will occur.

Still walking, I turn my attention to the song "Two Kites".  This is the only song in the set that I've never performed before.  To practise the lyrics I sing out loud (well, not too loud).  I am slightly bothered by the fact that I don't have a backing track to practise with, but to compensate, I run through the words about twenty times, until I find myself back home again.  It'll be fine.

I don't set any other goals for the day; I want to focus on tonight's performance.  I review some of the videos from during the week.  I go and get my hair done so I can feel confident about my appearance.

Arriving at the theatre, I get dressed straight away; if I've forgotten anything, I want to know now, not later.  Johanna takes us through a warm-up.  It's both vocal and physical.  We sit on the stage (I'm wearing a sparkly evening dress) and do some stretching exercises.

Friends and family are arriving.  The theatre and the stage look great.

We find out the running order.  I'm second on the program.

The singers sit right in front of the stage; we're ready to step up.

Matthew introduces the show, and Meg is first up.  She kicks off the show with a song called "The Girl Next Door".

After her set, I'm on.  I start with "Song of the Jet", with the patter between verses.

It's going well.  The audience is laughing in the right places.  I'm into my "dream sequence" in which I knock myself out, and in my concussed state I meet the Brazilian composer Tom Jobim and he sings to me.  I'm in 1960's Brazil.  I find myself drawing on the "poem" we generated in the clowning workshop.  Yesterday in rehearsal, pianist Emma had reminded me of it.  I paint a word-picture - "I'm wearing a bikini in tropical colours - plus I have the sort of body that looks good in a bikini.  Sparkly sandals on my feet".

Now for "Two Kites".  I sing the first few lines confidently.  I'm loving this song.

Then it all starts to unravel.  I cannot remember what comes next.  I manage to spit out one more line but then my brain draws a blank.  I try to grasp hold of a word or two, but they are slippery and the song is faster than when I practised it.  My hand clamps itself to my brow, and at the same time my brain tells me "DON'T do that!".  

My mouth is doing a goldfish impersonation.

We're into the second verse.  Well, Matthew is, anyway.  I'm rapidly melting down.  The primitive part of my brain is telling me to run away.  Then, from the depths of my consciousness comes a concept that I've learned in presentation skills training.  It's called "planned spontaneity" and it's the idea of having a funny line prepared and ready in case something goes wrong.  Or perhaps it was the "improv" workshop I went to last year.  Whatever the reason, next time my mouth opens, out come the words "I'm speechless!"  I roll my eyes a bit - hooray for concussion scenes!

Somehow, the act of vocalizing some words has kicked my brain back into gear.  I recognize a new bit of the tune and I come back in.  I'm determined to finish the song strongly, and now I'm going well.  I get to deliver the best (and weirdest) line in the song, "I get a flash of your thigh, like a spy in the sky" (told you it was weird).  And after that there is only one more line.  I've survived.

Then there is just one more song, "This Happy Madness".  I launch into it and in a few minutes I'm done.  I soak up the applause and resume my seat.  Now I can relax and enjoy watching my talented co-performers.

Even a year ago I would have felt completely mortified by what just happened to me on stage.  Tonight, I feel all right.  The singers tell me "What a brilliant save! Well done!"  When I mention it to a couple of audience members, they profess not to have noticed.  I'm not sure I believe them, but okay.  A minute feels like an eternity when you are in the spotlight on your own, but it's only a moment in the context of the whole show.  I know I can bed down the lyrics of that song in the next few weeks.  I feel happy that I'd learned and performed lots of songs during the year, and so it was only the one new song that I was performing tonight.

My focus on "What can I learn?" rather than "How do I look?" has served me well.  I start to think about other ways in which I could compensate if a similar thing happened again.  Maybe I could make it even funnier.

Everyone is sad that it's over.  But next month we'll perform our segments again, at suburban theatres as part of the "Out of the Square" program.  We'll see each other again there and also during the Festival Fringe that is coming up soon.  We'll attend each other's shows and follow each other's progress; some of these people could find major success.We've all shared the unique experience that is Cabaret Summer School.

Showcase performance Part 1

Showcase performance Part 2

Showcase performance Part 3

Drinks after the show

Dress Rehearsal

Friday at Cabaret Summer School, 2013.

Paul Boylon visits to talk with us about his cabaret venue, La Boheme.  It's a little French-style bar in the middle of the city.  It's affordable for emerging performers, and seats 55, making it feasible to have a sold-out show.  Paul also talks about the Cabaret Fringe, established by La Boheme to capitalize on the success of the Adelaide Cabaret Festival (held in June each year), and to give local performers an opportunity to showcase their work.

I have twice performed in the Cabaret Fringe - La Boheme organizes an event called Kabarett, in which three performers each present a 20-minute cabaret segment, so it becomes a one-hour show.  It's a very successful format; each performer invites their friends, and the deal is that they see you and two other performers, so all three of you gain exposure.  I've also held a private event at La Boheme; a cocktail party at which I performed my favourite Brazilian songs accompanied by a guitarist; we called it "An Afternoon in Rio".  And each month I perform at Cabaret Live (La Boheme's regular open-mic event for cabaret).  It is a lovely venue to perform at and to visit; the cocktails, sound and lighting are all superb.

We also discuss ways of getting publicity for the shows which we may develop in the future.

There's a bit of free time, and I take the opportunity to work on memorizing the lyrics of "Two Kites".  This is the only song in my show that I have never performed before.  I'm only singing two of the four verses, but the song is quite wordy, and I'm finding I need to pause between some of the lines in order to remember what comes next.  I only started learning it this week, but hopefully it will be fine.  I've been learning the words over the past couple of days.

Matthew asks me if I can provide better sheet music.  During this week he's been sight-transposing "Song of the Jet", but would prefer to have some piano music to read from.  I explain that I have previously scoured the Internet for the music to my songs, but I cannot find it.  None of these songs are in the books I've been able to buy.  Matthew does a search and also comes up with nothing.  All three songs are from the Brazilian book lent to me by my guitarist friend.

Next, we are assigned 15-minute time-slots to rehearse our show with Matthew on piano.  I'm second on the list.  The only thing is, I haven't yet seen the "patter-doctor"; Catherine is helping everyone with their story and jokes, but I haven't had my session with her yet.  All of yesterday, every time I looked, she was deep in discussion with some anxious singer.  So I've got an idea of what I might do, but I don't know if she'll like it.  Matthew says "Don't worry, let's just run through the music".

This is OK with me.  I've done this twice before, and the others probably need the coaching more than I do.  I've got the basics of the show already.  So I go into the rehearsal room.   Matthew does not appear to struggle at all with the music.  I'm starting my set with a few bars of "One Note Samba".  Then will follow "Song of the Jet" and "Two Kites".  We have performed the final song "This Happy Madness" together once before, and he remembers how it goes.

Eventually at lunch time I sit down with Catherine.  She completely rearranges my show.  She recommends ditching "One Note Samba" (we only have ten minutes each), and thinks I should insert some patter between the two verses of "Song of the Jet".  She gives me an alternative premise for my story and a new ending.  Her advice to me is to be spontaneous and present as if I am telling the story to a friend.

I know her idea is better than mine; she's been doing this for years, and she knows what will work.  But now we are straight into the dress rehearsal.  I go and put on my dress.

Somehow, during the week, ten, ten-minute mini-shows have materialized.  But they are understandably a bit rough around the edges.  Matthew announces me and I head for the stage.  He launches into a flamboyant introduction to "One Note Samba".  I reach the microphone and explain that we cut that song out.   I sing "Song of the Jet", but I forget to include the patter between the verses.  We start again, and this time my show runs smoothly.  There are plenty of laughs from the audience and I come off feeling quite happy with what I've done.

As I resume my seat, Catherine hands me a page full of hand-written notes on how to improve my performance.  I've also got the video, which I will review before tomorrow night.
As we finish the dress rehearsal, people start carrying tables and chairs into the room to set up for tomorrow night's show.  It's now up to us to prepare ourselves and our songs.

Video of my dress rehearsal

The "X-Factor" Coach

Thursday at Cabaret Summer School 2013

This morning we are introduced to another guest mentor, Johanna Allen.  Johanna is a seasoned performer and has toured with national musicals over the past several years.  She has worked as a vocal coach on "The X-Factor".  Most people in the group seem to know who she is.

We sit down in the theatre, and Johanna asks who'd like to sing something.  There is silence.  Everyone seems to hang back, perhaps a bit over-awed about the fact that it's Johanna.

I volunteer to go first.  I'm not in awe - I don't move in musical theatre circles, and so I haven't come across Johanna until now.  She seems perfectly nice, so I step up onto the stage.  Being my third time through Summer School, I know how quickly the week passes, and how important it is to make use of the time.

I start with some patter and lead into "Song of the Jet".   When I finish, Johanna advises me that when I'm telling a joke, I should "sit in the pause" long enough to allow the audience to "get it".  Then she corrects my posture.  I don't normally stoop, but maybe I'm doing this in order to sing into the microphone, or perhaps it's because of the way I'm breathing - trying to breathe low and deep, and trying to feel the back of my ribs expand.  We also talk about eye contact, and where to look in the room.

Everyone sings in turn.  Johanna is constructive and caring.  Each singer's performance is dramatically improved.  Again we are working on "connecting with the text".

Johanna engages us all in a posture exercise.  Her explanation is very clear, and I get the feeling of being more upright and open.

In the afternoon Matthew discusses with us the role of a Musical Director.  Whereas an accompanist will play the music you put in front of them and then go away, a Musical Director can help you develop your show.  We talk about the economics of presenting a cabaret show.

The evening session is a musical theatre workshop.  However, those of us without a musical theatre song are encouraged to try whatever song we have with us.  I have another go at "Two Kites".  In this song I play the composer Tom Jobim, singing to me in my dream.  Johanna suggests that instead of locating "me" on the stage, I find "me" in the audience.   I give it a go.

When I sing again, Johanna observes that I lock my knees when I sing.   This is a revelation to me.  It's a hot day and I'm wearing a short skirt.   Johanna has noticed my knees.  This would explain why I feel stuck to the spot when I perform.  She teaches me a simple samba dance move that allows my hips to rock subtly.  I try it and it feels quite natural.  It's amazing that one small change can make such a big difference.
Later when I watch the video, I marvel at the improvement.  I'm finding the videos of each workshop a fantastic aid to learning, and a way to avoid repeating the same mistakes.

Video of "Two Kites"

Funny Stuff

Wednesday at Cabaret Summer School, 2013

Already I'm not sleeping well.  The excitement and pressure are keeping me awake.  After getting home at 10 pm last night I lay in bed with song lyrics dancing in my head.  I'm already feeling a bit ragged before the day even starts.

Our day commences with a discussion about show titles.  To attract a public audience, your show needs to have an attention-grabbing name.  We brainstorm some possibilities for my piece.  I write them all down and select one to serve as a working title.  By tonight we are expected to have decided on the three songs we want to perform on Saturday night.

We then move into a comedy workshop with Stephen Sheehan.  Our shows will combine speaking, singing and humour.  We need to create some funny stuff.  I've worked with Stephen before, at last year's Summer School, and I've been to one of his comedy shows.  He leads us in a discussion about what makes a line funny, and the importance of finding what is uniquely and inherently funny about ourselves.  He speaks openly about some of his own experiences.

We then divide into two groups.  I'm with Catherine Campbell initially.  She works with us on "actions and intentions".  What do you want the audience to think or do, what is standing in the way of achieving that, and what are some things you could you do to achieve your objective?  We explore this idea through a song of our choice.  Mine is "Song of the Jet" by Jobim - my objective is to have the audience "see" Rio de Janeiro and understand how much I want to be there.  Out of this discussion tumbles my show title - "Sex with the City - a love affair with Rio".  We all shriek at my "Eureka" moment.

The various performances bring both laughter and tears. At one point we all sit in the floor in a huddle, imagining we are children in a gang.  Later when everyone is in the grip of emotion, and tears are flowing, I run to grab a roll of toilet paper in lieu of tissues.

Then we swap groups, and I work with Stephen on my song "Two Kites" by Jobim.  This is a quirky song, and in singing it, I'm playing the part of the composer Tom Jobim, speaking to me in a "time warp".  I have no idea how this will work, or if the idea is worth pursuing.  Stephen coaches me on stage, and later brings someone up on stage to play the part of "me".  It is all a bit weird, and I'm not much of an actor, but I'm willing to give it a go.  The song is in the wrong key for me, and the sheet music is scant; I got it from a friend who bought the guitar music in Brazil.  I've not been able to find any other version. Pianist Emma tackles it bravely.  I jump awkwardly between octaves, but I'm happy enough with this run-through to decide I'll include the song in my show.

To finish the afternoon session we discuss the suburban tour which is planned for February.  I took part in this last year and found it to be a good way to consolidate my piece and to accumulate some "stage time".

In the evening we have a "clowning workshop" with Hew Parham.  We need plenty of help to be funny!  We play a variety of games to get us feeling creative.  Hew then guides us in a brainstorming exercise which leads each of us to produce what he terms a "god poem"; a dozen lines encapsulating a variety of "images and desires" connected with the theme of our show.  The results are bizarre and hilarious.  We also experiment with playing "dominant" and "submissive" characters.
I've chosen my three songs.  I have a title for my show.  I'm beyond exhausted, with two days still to go.

Video of "Song of the Jet"

Video of "Two Kites"

The week marches on

Tuesday at Cabaret Summer School, January 2013

Today everyone challenges themselves with complex and difficult songs.  It's great to see them all attempting their "high-wire acts".

For the European Cabaret Song Masterclass, I have prepared a big French song called "La Boheme", made famous by Charles Aznavour.  It's about starving artists living in a garret in Paris.  The song is wordy, and there are four verses.  It's really hard to fit all the words in, but I have been practising my pronunciation and listening to recordings on YouTube.

I reckon I've done a good job, and I'm quite proud of my facility with French.  I'm not just learning it phonetically; I understand the lyrics, and I've delved into some of the finer nuances of the lyrics.  Still, I recognize that I am there to get help with the song, not to be told what a good job I've done.

In the past year I've read a book called "Mindset" by Carol Dweck, which has had a lasting influence on me.  It describes the difference between a "fixed mindset" in which you attribute success to natural talent, and a "growth mindset" in which effort is seen as the determinant of success.  In a fixed mindset, your objective is likely to be to "look good" and preserve your image of  yourself as a successful person, so you might not attempt a task if you are not sure if you can do it well.  Conversely, in a growth mindset, your priority is to learn as much as you can.  I'm determined to approach this whole week in a growth mindset.

Michael Morley from Flinders University Drama School is our mentor today.  While I am waiting to sing, he explains that early exponents of French chanson used always to hold the lyrics in front of them, and sing from the text, so as to ensure the accuracy of the lyrics.  Internally I shout "hooray!"  because he's given me "carte blanche" to read from my page, there's no pressure on me to sing from memory.

I sing the song through once.  Michael's first recommendation is that I make more distinction between the verse and the chorus.  He advises me to listen to how Aznavour does it.  Then he tells me I should sing three verses, not four, which would be too much foreign-ness for a non-French speaking audience.  I feel a sense of relief.  I've already decided which verse I will ditch - the one where I've been struggling to cram the lyrics into the music.  Suddenly, mastering the song has become more achievable.

Michael also encourages me to lengthen the words at the end of phrases, instead of cutting them short as I would in conversation.  Finally, he encourages me to study the score to ensure accuracy with the rhythm.  Because I don't play piano, I tend to learn my songs by ear, rather than reading purely from the sheet music.  With this French song, the sheet music has the words divided into syllables.  It was easier for me to learn lyrics with meaning than to memorize syllables.  So I've listened to Aznavour to hear how he phrased the words and where he placed the emphases.  But now I feel equipped to work through the song line by line and see where in the bar the words fall; Michael recommends I lean on the first beat of each bar.

By the end of the workshop, I've got some keys to unlock the intricacies of the song.  I've got things I can work on to improve my performance.  During the week I'm videoing myself in every workshop.  Later I review the video and see where I struggled, and the improvement I've gained from Michael's intervention.

Ben Finn from the Adelaide Festival Centre comes to talk with us about publicity.  I ask his opinion about some photos I had taken last year, which I'm thinking of using for my flyer.  Ben tells me which one he'd select, and why.

I drive home in heavy traffic, and that evening I return for another session - "Raising Your Standards", a jazz workshop.  Matthew teaches us three jazz standards, and we practise singing them, both as a group and individually.  We also work on developing "patter", using a song we presented during the day.  This is not a song I'm using for my show, but it's still useful to engage in the exercise.
By this point, I've done nothing towards my show for Saturday night.  Instead of going home and returning for the night session, I resolve to stay at the Centre for the next two evenings.  It was a waste of time to sit in traffic, when I could have been working on my show.  It's vital to make the best use of the limited time available.


Video of "La Boheme"

The Cabaret Kids

January 2013.  I'm going to Cabaret Summer School.  Again.

Monday morning we arrive at Star Theatres.  There are ten singers, and two pianists who are training to become musical directors for cabaret.  I know several of the singers from the open mic nights I've attended each month at La Boheme bar.  I met some of the others last night at the performance presented by some other singers who had attended a weekend mini-workshop.  Amongst the Summer School group I meet Angela, a Chinese-Australian journalist living in Beijing, who has come to Adelaide to attend the school.  In our group, about half are under and half over the age of thirty (in my case, thirty was a long time ago).

Time is allocated for each person to introduce themselves, and to indicate what they want to gain from the week.  My opening quip is "This is my third time at Cabaret Summer School.  I'm hoping that this time, I'll pass."  Then I get straight to the point.  I particularly want help with how to move on stage, and I want to work on the storyline for the one-hour show that I intend to present in June as part of the Cabaret Fringe (extra to the Cabaret Festival, which is also held in that month).

We've been asked not to come with any fixed ideas of what we want to perform at the end of the week.   Several of us have shows planned.  This is an opportunity for us to work on our skills, which we can then apply to our own show.  I'm not wedded to any particular idea, but I do want to work on my story.

We discuss "What is cabaret?"  It can take a variety of forms, and we observe that the term also is sometimes used as a pejorative, to describe the bland sort of performance you might find at a dinner dance.  It's not easy to come up with a definition, apart from the expectation that the show will be held in a fairly intimate setting (rather than in a large arena).  Generally the performer will open up and reveal something of themselves (usually without taking off their clothes, but there are exceptions!)

Then each person sings a song of their choice and is workshopped by the mentors, Matthew Carey and Catherine Campbell.  This takes the best part of the day.

I choose a song which will not be part of my show.  It's from the musical My Fair Lady - "I've Grown Accustomed to His Face".  I've chosen it because I've already performed it once, and I have sheet music in a key that's comfortable for me.  I don't want to be reaching for any high notes when I get up in front of all these people for the first time.  I know the words, so I won't have to hold the music as I sing.

Several of us express our surprise at feeling nervous.  It's not a performance, just a workshop - an opportunity to work on our skills.  But the theatre feels unfamiliar, and we've only just met some of the participants.  It's natural to feel a bit uneasy.

In cabaret you are often talking about yourself and your own experiences.  We explore the question of what makes a performance engaging as opposed to self-indulgent.  We decide it's the element of story-telling, and the skill of making the audience feel differently when they leave your show.

There is a great variety of song choice.  Some are from a musical theatre background, some are classical singers and others are trained in jazz.We work on the key skill of "connecting with the text" - really examining and interpreting the words of the song.  We are also encouraged to think about something as we sing, as this makes a big difference to the impact of your performance.  Our aim is to allow the emotions to show, rather than deliberately demonstrating them.

It occurs to me that the people who come to Cabaret Summer School tend to be "humanities kids" - people who, like me, lean towards Humanities subjects - English, History, Philosophy, languages - and of course, Drama, which I'd never grouped in this category before.  Cabaret is an unexpected application for these skills, but finally I can apply what I learned in poetry interpretation.

For tomorrow, we are asked to prepare either a European cabaret song or a piece by the musical theatre composer Stephen Sondheim.  A guest mentor is coming to help us with our interpretations.

Video: "I've Grown Accustomed to His Face"

You live and you learn

In early Spring, 2012, I fly to Darwin to address two groups of accountants.  I'm doing a late afternoon presentation and a breakfast speech.  Darwin is warm and tropical.  It feels good to take off my jacket when I get off the plane.

I check into the hotel and after a couple of hours it's time for me to go downstairs for the event.  People begin to arrive and I greet and mingle.  One man asks me "Are you going to sing and dance?"  I say "Probably not - why do you ask?"  He says "I saw you here two years ago".

Ah yes, I'd forgotten.  The last time I was in Darwin, I spoke at a Leadership conference.  I spoke about innovative thinking, and I used the Shirley Bassey song "History Repeating" to underline my point that without new ideas, we fall back on our habits and keep repeating the past.  I sang to a backing track and a friend's daughter had a choreographed a dance routine for me.  My fellow speakers didn't know I could sing, and had never seen me dance, and they were open-mouthed.  From the stage I could see their jaws gaping.

At the end of this day-long conference, all the speakers had dinner together.  They told me that during my song, a woman in the audience had been overcome with emotion, and had needed to be comforted. She thought I was "so courageous".

You can never tell what sort of response your performance will produce.  I discovered that music is a powerful tool, to be used with lots of care and responsibility.  It was perhaps a bit weird to immediately follow a business presentation with a song-and-dance routine.  Some of the more experienced speakers offered recommendations for using music.  I should get the audience to participate, or put the song in the middle of the speech and then explain it, or abbreviate the song rather than sing all of the verses.  You live and you learn.

But obviously it was memorable.

Towards the end of the year, Rohan holds a Christmas concert for his singing students.  I decide to sing "The Christmas Song" ("Chestnuts roasting on an open fire..."), but in French.  I find the English lyrics quite "cheesy", but in French the song sounds lovely.  I'd sung this song at Cabaret Live a year earlier, and my entire focus was on remembering the French lyrics.  Now I reprise the song and I can develop my performance, because I already know the words.

The song goes well, and I feel I've come a long way.  First, to be able to remember English lyrics on stage, and not forget my words.  Then, to move beyond remembering the words, to be able to interpret the song.  Then to remember French lyrics (I can actually speak French), then to interpret the song.

The next challenge?  To learn some of my Brazilian songs in Portuguese.

Video of "The Christmas Song" in French

An Afternoon in Rio

Mid-2012, I contact guitarist Mike again.

I tell him that we're ready to take up his suggestion of a musical "soiree" for our friends.  But instead of holding this party at our house, we're going to hire La Boheme.  It will mean more space for our guests,  there's a bar and staff, and most importantly, lights and sound - plus an expert to operate them.

And La Boheme will provide Brazilian cocktail specials.

He agrees to accompany me, and we work out a suitable date - a Sunday afternoon in the winter.  By coincidence, it falls on the weekend of my birthday.  I don't promote the party as a birthday celebration, but for me, it certainly adds something to the occasion.  We name the event "An Afternoon in Rio" - when it's cold outside it will be nice to imagine being in tropical Brazil.

I put together a song list and we work out suitable keys for each song.  We also work on "arranging" the songs.  This is an educational process for me, plus I'll have the right keys for future reference.  It is a privilege to work with such an accomplished musician.  Altogether we have about four rehearsals.  I also invite Mike to play a solo guitar piece of his own choice.  He is happy to do this.

Our program consists of ten songs, plus Mike's guitar solo.  We'll have an "interval" so people can get drinks and La Boheme can make some money.  Each half will be about 25 minutes.

We create an invitation and send it out to lots of friends.  The deal is - no entrance fee, free entertainment, we provide cheese platters, and the guests buy their own drinks.  We do a lot of following up, because La Boheme is a small venue - it's licensed for 55 people, seated.  We need to know who's coming and who's not.

The issue of musical entertainment introduces a new dimension to the invitation.  I'm aware that this music might not be to everyone's taste.  People are not quite sure what they're in for.  Some people will have competing priorities I might not be at the top of their list.  Still, eventually the guest list is settled.  The place will be full.

The morning of the show passes quickly, and suddenly it's time to go to La Boheme and start the sound check.  I get into the car, and the reality hits me.  In two hours I will be on stage singing to our friends.  Why did I think this was a good idea?  But too late now - they'll soon be there, ready for their mojitos and their tropical entertainment.

Mike arrives on time, and we start the sound check.  I'm nervous and don't want to wear out my voice before the show.  My voice sounds weak and quavering at first.  Then I "get a grip" and start to sing out more strongly.

Too quickly people start to arrive.  They get drinks and settle themselves at tables.  I do my best to be welcoming without straining my voice - shouting in a noisy venue is the fastest way to wear out your voice.

Bill introduces us, and we're on.  The show goes well.  The only thing that goes wrong comes in the last song, when I lose my huge chandelier earring.  In a flash of "planned spontaneity" I declare "That is the only thing that's coming off" and fling the earring into the audience.  This is the longest performance I've ever done.  I feel a real sense of accomplishment.

Afterwards I conclude that I've sung as well as I possibly could with the level of skill I had on that day.  A year later, my voice is a lot better - I'm still wondering when this steep learning curve will flatten off.  Will I keep looking back and thinking how badly I sang?

Video of the song "Photograph" 


Video "Little Boat" - includes the earring "wardrobe malfunction"

The invitation

Sound-check with Mike

Revealed: The problem with the high notes

2012 brings some major breakthroughs in singing technique.

Specifically, I discover why I am having trouble singing the higher notes.  It's because... I'm not singing the low notes properly.  I'm sounding them in my throat and chest, which means that as I go higher, the notes get "stuck".  I need to create space in my head and keep it open, so I can lift all the notes up and place them forward.  So I have to change the singing habits of a lifetime.

Rohan gives me some weird exercise with vowels which feels like I am carving a new channel through my head.  It feels very strange.  Once it's formed, though, the notes seem to like traveling along this new highway.

He encourages me to "lean in" to the higher notes, instead of pulling away from them.  I discover that this requires some courage, commitment and self-belief.  I also have to change my attitude to practising at home.  I realize that when I sing I hold back; hold my voice in.  The truth is, I don't like people to hear me practising.  Now I make a conscious decision to get over it - people hear me when I sing on stage, so what's the difference at home?

I learn to apply the new technique in the lounge-room; now I need to be able to do it in performance, which involves some risk-taking.

Another opportunity arises, in the form of a workshop offered by Brian Gilbertson, a former lawyer who "escaped" in his late twenties and became a professional singer.  I nominate myself as one of several people to be workshopped during this half-day event.  Brian tells me my ribs are not expanding as they should.  I need to work on my breathing.  He offers a new batch of imagery for me to internalize.  Dashing across the room, he encourages me to imagine that he is "running away" with my voice - to let it out, instead of pushing it out.  Finally, while I am singing, he suddenly grabs my lower jaw and holds on until I let go and allow him to control it.

Brian tells us we must be prepared to make ugly sounds during practice - it's part of the risk-taking that's needed to improve.

Eventually, with all of this help and effort, I begin to feel what it's like to breathe low and create the support I need to sustain the higher notes.

And the low notes will never be the same again.  

The big stage

My goal for 2012 is to present my own solo show in the Cabaret Fringe.

I try to accelerate the process.  I book a session with Cabaret Summer School mentor Catherine Campbell.  I go along with my cabaret friend Alison, to brainstorm some ideas to help both of us to develop our shows.

Catherine offers me some helpful suggestions.  But the show doesn't come together.  The full-length show will take longer to develop.

And I have travel booked.  This year, both our children are at Uni, and my husband and I are finally free to holiday together.  We go on a trip to Berlin and Prague.  It is exciting to be travelling together once again.  Before having children we went on three trips to Europe together and really enjoyed it.  We re-kindle the feeling.

In Prague we stay at a lovely hotel and are persuaded to try the formal restaurant.  The Maitre D, Miroslav, is quite a character.  He has us laughing uncontrollably.  And then the grand piano starts up.  The pianist calls for requests, and I ask if he can play any Brazilian songs.  He can.  He launches into some well-known Bossa Nova songs, and I hum along quietly.  With each song I get more excited.  Then he starts playing Desafinado (Slightly Out of Tune).  I cannot resist.  I sing out loud.  Only one other table in the restaurant is occupied.  I sing in full voice and don't care who hears.  At the end, the people at the other table applaud, and Miroslav brings us complimentary desserts.  I've sung for my supper.

Just before we fly home, I receive an email asking if I'd like to perform in Kabarett (part of the Cabaret Fringe Festival).  The show will be on the week after I return.  Immediately I accept, I can just fit in with the rehearsal schedule.  I have to miss the first practice, but I can do the second and third ones.  But the jetlag is doing me no favours.  I turn up at rehearsal and realize I have left my sheet music at home.  Oops.  No problem though - they are running way behind time, and Matthew offers me a separate and individual rehearsal at his home.  I go along and our run-through goes very smoothly.

I'm doing an expanded version of "Adventures with a Brazilian" - my segment at January's Cabaret Summer School.  There isn't much time to drum up an audience.  I call a few people and mail out a few flyers.  We are doing a "season" - two shows in the space of a weekend - Saturday and Sunday afternoons.

It's a smaller than usual audience, but the best I can do in the circumstances.

Once again there are three of us.  I'm on first.  Usually I prefer to settle in a bit and wait til others have sung before going on.  But Catherine puts me on first, so on I go.  It's good experience to go first.  I'm quite happy with my segment - much more confident than last year.

Alison goes next, with her piece "Love-aholic", and finally Lindsay takes the stage with his segment about the trials and tribulations of a pharmaceutical sales rep who would rather sing and dance.

Afterwards, friends tell me my singing has developed tremendously, and that I make it seem much easier than last year.  I'm happy to hear this, and I believe it's true.

Matthew has also put out an invitation for cabaret performers to perform in the Festival Centre Piano Bar.  It's a program providing local artists with the opportunity to be in a showcase which is part of the main Cabaret Festival.  I don't take this up - I don't think I'm ready, plus I've just come back from holidays, and it's been enough to put on my 20-minute piece in Kabarett.  But several of my cabaret friends do take part.  I go along to cheer them on.

My moment comes, however, on the opening night of the Cabaret Festival.  After the Gala opening concert, I wander through to the Piano Bar, where a band is starting up.  The group is called The Four Chairs.  Amongst the crowd I spy some friends - Nicole (who was with me at Cabaret Summer School the previous January) with partner, and Alison (a lawyer I used to work with many years earlier).

The Four Chairs call for volunteers from the audience to come and sing with them.  Nicole's partner noisily volunteers her for this duty.  She gets up on stage and coolly sings "Hit the Road Jack".  She receives enthusiastic applause.  The place is packed, and jumping.

After a while they take a break, and after the break they call again for volunteers.  Nicole has told me they have the sheet music for "The Girl From Ipanema".  By this time I've had a few drinks, and my courage is up.  So I head for the stage, and once people see me going there, that's it.  I get up and sing my song.  It's quite a big audience, and they go crazy with applause.

If I never perform again, I've sung on stage at the Festival Centre.  And by coincidence, I had a professional photo shoot that afternoon, so I'd had my hair and makeup done.

A few days later, I attend a Board meeting.  When I arrive, the Executive Officer, Rob, says "I've got something for you".  He shuffles though a folder and pulls out a photo of me performing at Festival Centre.

You never know who is in the audience.

On my way to Kabarett

Taking a bow with Craig and Emily

What lies beneath?

Appearance does matter.

When people are paying money to come and hear you sing, I think you have a responsibility to look the part.  When you are in the cabaret spotlight, you are the focus of their attention.  There is nothing much else for them to look at.

I begin to pay attention to the way performers present themselves on stage.

Red lipstick looks wonderful in the spotlight.  I've never been keen on red for day, but now I go out and purchase a deep dark red lipstick, just for the stage.

I experiment with false eyelashes.  They look wonderful when someone else applies them on me.  I visit the Napoleon counter, where they will apply the eyelash strips I purchase, at no extra charge.  They also do make-up, using individual eyelashes, which give a much more natural and glamorous effect, although I would find them impossible to apply on myself.

I try glueing the eyelash strips on myself at home, with varying results.  One night I am going to a Law Society dinner and decide to put on the false eyelashes for an extra-special look.  They will not sit straight.  I persevere and end up applying black mascara to them and adding a lot of black eyeliner pencil to disguise the adhesive strips.  The taxi is waiting and I am still fiddling with my eyelashes.  Eventually I have to go.  I do feel pretty special, but during the dinner, when I go to the bathroom, I see that I look like a drag queen.  I really should have given up, taken them off and done my usual evening makeup.  I can't imagine what people were saying about me.

I have a selection of sparkly dresses which get a good reception at Cabaret Live (I've found that one-piece dresses are much better on stage than a top with pants or a skirt, which need to be contantly re-arranged).  But I am starting to become aware that my pantihose cut in at the waist, and that the resulting bulges are probably quite very noticeable on stage.

I observe Sidonie, the Cabaret Live hostess.  She is not thin, but makes the most of her voluptuous figure.  She has no bulges anywhere - just smooth curves.  What is her secret?  I must investigate for myself.

First, I swap my pantihose for stay-up stockings.  One cause of bulges is instantly eliminated.

Then there is "shapewear".  I am biased against these garments.  As a student I worked in the Corsetry department of a large store, and saw many women struggling to contain their stomachs in heavy girdles.  I have always thought it is better to cultivate and use your stomach muscles.  Once you give in to control briefs, you've lost the battle.  But I'm starting to accept that I need at bit of help in the figure department, when I am under such close scrutiny.  I experiment with various girdles.  Mostly, I find that they create more bulges than they remove.  They are made small and tight, but the fat has to go somewhere, and it spills over the top, creating a spare tyre around my midriff.  Also, the fabric can be quite thick and constricting, and I need to be able to breathe.  Eventually I find that Nancy Ganz has some good designs.  I settle for a really huge pair of pants which come up high enough to meet my strapless bra.  Presto!  No bulges.  I also find an "all-in-one" body suit which is cut very low in the front so you can wear your own bra underneath.  It is reasonably comfortable to wear, and has the additional advantage of creating extra cleavage.

These garments take some getting used to, but they make me feel a lot more confident in my dresses.  They prove to be a good investment.  When you are on stage you need to be focused on your song, not worrying about your body image.

Bossa Nova World

During 2012, I acquire a large coffee-table book called "Bossa Nova - the rise of Brazilian music in the 1950's".

I affectionately name it "The Big Book of Bossa Nova".

It contains a short history of Bossa Nova, reproductions of album covers and profiles of the main artists of the era.   There are lots of them.  The best known of course are Tom Jobim, Joao Gilberto, Astrud Gilberto and Sergio Mendes.  But there were many more, who were very big names in their day.  Some of these names are familiar to me from the recordings I've had from guitarist Mike:  Roberto Menescal ("Little Boat), whom I know to be still alive today, Marcos Valle ("Summer Samba"), Joyce, Baden Powell, Nara Leao, Edu Lobo, Elis Regina, and the list goes on.  Clearly it was a very big music scene.

Next time I walk into Birdland Records, the first thing I see is the CD from the same series.  It has recordings from a variety of artists - some of them are early versions of songs later arranged lushly by Sergio Mendes for his group Brasil 66.  It's also a tribute to Elenco Records which was an icon of 1960's Brazil.

I manage to acquire three further albums in this series, which also introduces me to the concept of "hard bossa".

Also I discover that Birdland also has a shelf with original albums of these artists on CD.  This gives me something new to look for and to collect.  I purchase some new CD towers to accommodate my new acquisitions.

I feel I'm diving ever deeper into Bossa Nova World.

Go for Growth

Early 2012.

Back at Cabaret Live, the thing that strikes me is how much we have all improved.

I know I've improved - a lot - and I had a lot of improving to do.   But so has everyone else.  

Even Sidonie, who sang wonderfully well when I first heard her two years earlier, has really lifted her game and is now singing spectacularly.  She has developed her skills of jazz improvization and presents exquisite and unexpected interpretations.  It is wonderful to see such progress amongst the group.

Malcolm Gladwell in his book "Outliers" maintains that to achieve mastery requires 10,000 hours of practice.  I'm getting three minutes per month of performance time.  But, as my singing teacher points out, it's not just those thee minutes - it's also the time you spend in lessons and practising and preparing and thinking about it, plus the post-mortem after the show.  

And during this year I come across another book that revolutionizes my approach and completely changes my outlook on life.  It is "Mindset - How you can achieve your potential" by Stanford University psychologist Dr Carol Dweck.  

In this book she identifies two contrasting mindsets:

• People with a "fixed mindset" believe believe that everyone is born 

with a fixed amount of talent, intelligence or other qualities. If they succeed at 

something, they attribute their success to being smart and talented. If they fail, they 

blame their lack of ability.  

• Conversely, people with a "growth mindset" believe that talent, intelligence and 

other qualities can be cultivated and developed. If they succeed at something, they 

attribute their success to the amount of effort they put in. If they fail, they blame 

their lack of effort and decide to try harder.  

It's easy to fall into the trap of labeling ourselves, and I've fallen into this very trap. 

Although I regard myself as a high achiever and life-long learner, I found while 

reading Dweck's book, that I recognized some of the fixed-mindset traits in myself.  

For example, when I was at school, I had a bad experience in Drama class.  One of my classmates ridiculed my efforts on stage.  Based on this single incident, I decided that I had no acting talent. I labeled myself "a terrible actor". For years I told myself (and anyone else who would listen) "I am hopeless at acting"; "I can't act to save myself". For 

years I refused to get onto a stage or to do any public speaking. Then I discovered a 

Toastmasters Club, where you can learn the skills of public speaking in an orderly 

way and practise your skills in a supportive environment. Gradually I built my skills 

and confidence. I discovered that if you haven't got "it", you can develop "it".  

If you regard yourself as a smart, successful person, you have an image to preserve, 

and this might hold you back from doing things that could tarnish that image or 

make you look foolish. 

When you perform, if you are focused on looking good, you will not take risks that could lift your performance to the next level.  I start to take some of those risks instead of playing it safe.  I stop labelling others as talented and myself as a pretender.  I start to correlate effort with improvement.

I begin to be more philosophical about each performance.  Even if I don't sing as well as I hoped, I try to learn something from the experience.  If I produced any bad sounds, I analyze why that happened, and how I can prevent that from happening again.  I start focusing less on "Did I look and sound good?" and more on "What did I learn?"  

This new philosophy starts to permeate my entire life.  In my business I become less self-conscious about my presentations and my marketing efforts.  I just ask myself "What did I learn today?"  At the gym, I start to challenge myself harder in my Body Balance class.  You can either balance well and look beautiful, or challenge yourself to the point where you fall over.  If you don't wobble at all you are not pushing yourself.

A friend has looked at some of my videos on YouTube.  She advises me to take down the videos of my practice sessions at Cabaret Summer School because some of the sounds are "unpleasant", and these videos might "harm my case".  I decide to leave them there, because they form a record of my journey.  

I'm discovering that playing it safe doesn't bring improvement:

Commit to the song;
Take the risk of it coming out wrong; 
because it just might 
come out wonderfully right.

The thing is to learn what you need to do to produce a good sound.  And inevitably this involves some trial and error.  

Every time you get up, you'll be better next time.  When you look back you'll sometimes feel mortified about how bad you were, what you subjected your audiences to.  

But this is how you grow.