Drinking from a fire hose

The fun is over for now, and I have two weeks of hard work ahead of me, before the Brazilian guitarist arrives, and then the pressure will really be on.

My teacher shares with me a vast array of techniques for musical improvisation and voice production.  Each song must have its own special arrangement and treatment.  I'm attempting things I thought I had no right to do.  She is teaching me her secrets.

We set up a session to go through the whole program.  We start at the beginning.  For each song there is a lot to put together - arrangement, variations, vocal tone, rhythm.  I start to feel a bit overwhelmed. Halfway through the lesson, halfway through a song, I find myself choking up with emotion.

My teacher reassures me that these feelings are to be expected.  It's natural to feel under-prepared at this point in the lead-up to a show.  And I've had a lot of information to absorb; we've done six months' work in two, she says.

We settle the program, specifying the key and tempo of each song.

When I go home that afternoon, I ask myself why I'm doing this, and if I'm good enough.  I go for a walk to get some oxygen into my system, then listen to some recordings, and the black cloud starts to lift.  I banish the negative thoughts.

There's lots of practice to be done.  Although I'm officially back at work, I need to carve out lots of time to work on my music.  Because I work for myself I can choose my own hours and reduce my work for a few weeks.  I need to listen to my recorded lessons again and get clear in my own mind how each song is meant to be performed.

At the same time, I'm working on promoting the show.  I've sent out posters for distribution, mailed out flyers, written a press release and sent it to all the addresses provided by the Festival.  I've filmed for a TV show and done a radio interview; hopefully there will be more of those.

The posters are beginning to appear around the city.

The moment of truth comes when the people arrive for the show.  A lot of activity is needed to get "bums on seats".

But at the same time, an artist needs to feel serene, not stretched to breaking point or drowning in information.

In Training

With music, as in sport, match fitness is important.

If you don't perform for a while, you lose a bit of confidence, and when you do get up on stage again, it takes a while to get used to it and regain your "presence".

So in the lead-up to my show, I search for some opportunities to perform.

I nominate to perform at an open-mic night.  The venue is in a slightly gritty part of town, but the owner does a good job of providing opportunities for performers.  He calls for singers, who will each perform three songs to backing tracks.  I trawl the Internet to find suitable tracks, and spend several hours working out how I will arrange each song, as some of the instrumental sections are long, and you can't just stand there waiting for your invisible orchestra to finish.

The show certainly lives up to its description, "Variety Night".  There are a few pretty sleazy numbers, and the last act is a singer/guitarist who brazenly exceeds his quota of three songs and appears to have settled in for the night, until the host finally brings his set to a close.

By now our group is very hungry, and we end up in an pizza bar across the road, where the pasta, surprisingly, turns out to be magnificent.

I also notice that a friend is running a crowd-funding campaign to finance a going-away concert.  She is moving to the UK to find work in the entertainment industry.  She invites people to buy tickets in advance, and she is also offering a range of "rewards" for purchase.  One of these is the opportunity to sing one song with her in the show.  The purchaser can choose the song and must be available to rehearse with her in the two weeks before the show.  I whip out my credit card and quickly snap up the spot.

This purchase provides me with hours of fun and vocal practice.  We meet for coffee to discuss song choice.  She has some suggestions, but ultimately the decision is mine.  I select "Cabaret" from the movie of the same name.  It is meaningful, as we met at Cabaret Summer School, and because she is "seizing the day".  It's also a good choice because I've performed the song once before - at my 50th birthday party, before I even discovered cabaret.  I'm already familiar with it, and won't have to spend hours learning new lyrics.

We rehearse a couple of times at her home.  We divide up the song; it has a wide range.  She takes the high parts and I take the low ones.  We decide on some simple harmonies.  It's a good song to do as a duet with a friend; it becomes like a conversation.  We also have a rehearsal with the pianist and one at the theatre on the day of the event.

On the night, I make sure I'm sitting on the end of a row so I easily get out of my seat.  When it's my turn, I step up on stage and take a microphone, and I'm still unravelling the cord when the music starts, but I manage to nail my entry.  We action our plan, apart from a dramatic pause where I suddenly wonder "What's my line?"  But as the song reaches its climax, people are clapping and whooping.

The final lines of the song provide a fitting metaphor for her adventure and for mine:

Start by admitting, from cradle to tomb, it isn't that long a stay.  Life is a cabaret, old chum, it's only a cabaret, old chum, and I love a cabaret!

Too many balls in the air

Six weeks until the show in the Adelaide Fringe Festival.

The Brazilian guitarist arrives in a month.

The posters and flyers have been printed, and they are somewhere in Adelaide, I'm told.  They just haven't reached me yet.  Apparently they were posted two weeks ago but are caught up in the the Post Office Christmas/New Year backlog.

I'm feeling scattered and a bit overwhelmed with all the elements that I have to combine to make this show a success.

Let me try to bring all the threads together in one place:

• Promote the show - this is a whole chapter in itself, with many sub-points.
• Finalise the accommodation arrangements (I've booked a hotel for him, but because of the World Cup cricket match, hotels in the city are full, and he'll need to move to another hotel for his last night here),
• Tidy and clean the house, so he won't think we live like slobs,
• Maybe plant some ready-made flowers in the garden, so it doesn't look like a casualty of a nuclear war,
• Learn my song lyrics, some of them in Portuguese,
• Learn as much Portuguese language as possible, so we can talk to each other,
• Work on my vocal technique,
• Plan some song arrangements and practise my improvisation,
• Get some stage time in advance of the show, so I won't look like a deer in the headlights when I come on stage,
• Exercise and watch my diet, so I'll look good on stage (this is really hard, with so many nice Christmas foods in the house),
• Get my performance outfit organised.

I think that's all at the moment.

I've taken a few weeks' holiday for Christmas, but then I'll be back at work for a couple of weeks.  I've got a few manageable work commitments, but I will need to prioritise music over work until the show is done.

This is the first time I've really put music first.

Once he arrives, the week will pass quickly.  Suddenly we will be on stage together.

I want this show to be a big success.

I've got my fingers crossed, and I'm trying not to think about things that might go wrong.  There isn't much margin for error now.