Pianist Emma thinks I should go for a sophisticated look. I decide to wear the black dress I'm wearing in the advertisement.
Emma says "It would be so cool if you had a parrot" (on the flyer a macaw has been photoshopped onto my shoulder). It sounds too hard, but I start looking around in shops, somewhat half-heartedly. At the Museum Shop, there it is - a Scarlet Macaw, just like the one in the photo. I decide to bring him on stage with me at the start of the show - I'll look exactly the way I do on the flyer, and that will be a bit of a sight gag.
She also thinks some sound-effects would be funny, such as the sound of drizzling rain to add pathos. I search online to find something suitable.
I decide to use my Brazilian percussion instruments in the final song.
Both shows sell out. Before the first performance, I not only do a sound check; I also have to do the "tech run" with the sound and lighting technician. Jeff and I are still working these things things out when the doors open and the first audience members arrive. My stress levels start to rise, and Emma and I go upstairs to wait in the dressing room.
Twenty minutes later, Jeff comes to fetch us. We come down and wait off-stage while the last drinks are served and people take their seats. The place is packed and the audience is noisy. The pre-show music is getting me in the mood, but I can't help wondering if I can remember everything. I'm aware that that this is not a helpful thought, but now I wish I'd had a run-through, on this stage, in front of a small audience, with someone to advise me on what I'm doing. I feel extremely overwhelmed, and I reflect that I've conceived and written the show, promoted it, organized everything, paid everyone and directed myself, and now it's time to see how it goes. I don't know if it's any good, or if anyone will find my jokes funny.
We're on. Emma heads for the piano, and there's no going back. I step up onto the stage, macaw on my shoulder. I launch straight into "One Note Samba". I remember every single thing, in the correct sequence. There are plenty of laughs. It all comes together. There are some places where I could have sung better, but I think I've given people value for their ticket price.
I come off stage, put on a jacket and come back into the room. Now the lights are on and I can see who's there. I chat with some of them. I hear someone say "Do we have to leave now? We were having such a good time".
In between shows I have the opportunity to sing at two Cabaret Live events. I sing the two songs that gave me trouble in the first show. Both of them go a lot better. I realize I need to "lean into" the problem notes instead of pulling away for fear of cracking on the note. I discover that if I give it a bit more momentum I sing it better.
I also go to a Cabaret Masterclass and receive a reminder to immerse myself in the lyrics of the song. Strangely, this usually seems to fix vocal problems.
In the lead-up to the second show, I feel much more relaxed. This time I sing out more freely, and there are fewer problematic notes. I engage more fully with the audience, and claim the stage more powerfully.
Following this successful "season" I feel an enormous sense of achievement.
And I'll be better next time. The experience of performing a full show lifts my confidence and skills to another level. I've learned how much you need to let out the sound in performance. It doesn't help to hold it in. Suddenly I am singing more freely. Back at lessons, I sing a high G, and don't even realize until my teacher asks "Do you want to go on?"
Without La Boheme and the Cabaret Summer School, it would never have occurred to me to hire a theatre and present my own solo cabaret show. But it's all been a logical progression.
It's amazing what a little bit of encouragement can do.
I did it here. I could do it in Rio.
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