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"
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
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