The night of a particularly bad show, I found myself repeating the words a slackrope walker friend of mine once shared with me. Those words had been passed on to her by a glamorous Parisian cabaret star.
I am now going to share these words with you, but for the full benefit, be sure to say it in a Parisian accent with the kind of ennui that only the French can muster…
Ready?
“Sometimes, is shit.”
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Monday, November 28, 2011
Take Two
As it turns out, the Great Bass Disaster wasn’t even the result of a faulty bass. The bassist thought there was a problem with his instrument (he’s been having trouble with one of the chords coming unsoldered) but when he grabbed his other bass and it didn’t work either, he realized the problem originated in the sound booth. While very frustrating for him, we managed to have a good laugh about it after the show.
The following night, I told him that should it ever happen again, he’s to come on stage with the double bass instead of the electric bass and just play the bass line on that. It may not be as loud, but at least the instrument is so damn big that maybe the other musicians will see him and not get so lost. Before the show he gave it a try. It was the stupidest sounding thing you’ve ever heard.
Right before I went onstage, he came up to me and said he decided that, when it was time for my act, he was going to skip the electric bass altogether and just come out directly with the double bass.
Ha ha! That’s a good one!
The number starts, I’m doing my thing, and then I hear it. And of course, by hear it, I mean don’t hear it. Once again, there is no bass.
The good news is the other musicians are now veterans when it comes to suddenly missing bass players and actually manage to keep it together. Even better, the bassist manages to make it back in time for our big dramatic moment. We say more with one look than most people ever manage and, laughing, I carry on with my act.
But I must admit, when I have a moment later on during the show to pull him aside, my tone is stern.
Where the hell was the double bass? That was a golden opportunity! True, it probably would have ‘ruined the show’, but there are some things that are bigger than the show! And a gag that is hilarious both visually and aurally, though admittedly and inside joke between only two people on stage, but coincides with an event whose timing makes the joke even funnier, again, to only two of the people present… I mean… come on! What are the odds?
I tell ya, if there’s a screw up with the bass for a third night running and I don’t see a big ass double bass come to the rescue, I will be most put out.
The following night, I told him that should it ever happen again, he’s to come on stage with the double bass instead of the electric bass and just play the bass line on that. It may not be as loud, but at least the instrument is so damn big that maybe the other musicians will see him and not get so lost. Before the show he gave it a try. It was the stupidest sounding thing you’ve ever heard.
Right before I went onstage, he came up to me and said he decided that, when it was time for my act, he was going to skip the electric bass altogether and just come out directly with the double bass.
Ha ha! That’s a good one!
The number starts, I’m doing my thing, and then I hear it. And of course, by hear it, I mean don’t hear it. Once again, there is no bass.
The good news is the other musicians are now veterans when it comes to suddenly missing bass players and actually manage to keep it together. Even better, the bassist manages to make it back in time for our big dramatic moment. We say more with one look than most people ever manage and, laughing, I carry on with my act.
But I must admit, when I have a moment later on during the show to pull him aside, my tone is stern.
Where the hell was the double bass? That was a golden opportunity! True, it probably would have ‘ruined the show’, but there are some things that are bigger than the show! And a gag that is hilarious both visually and aurally, though admittedly and inside joke between only two people on stage, but coincides with an event whose timing makes the joke even funnier, again, to only two of the people present… I mean… come on! What are the odds?
I tell ya, if there’s a screw up with the bass for a third night running and I don’t see a big ass double bass come to the rescue, I will be most put out.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
The Glue
A funny thing happened during my number the other night... It kind of fell apart.
Already, the cards were stacked against me. We were coming back from the weekend, and for once, I had actually skipped town. The train ride in from Paris seemed so strange on a show day and I must say, I was not feeling it. Fortunately (unfortunately?), this seemed to be the case for just about everyone.
Now I’ve done shows where my wheel basically did the act without much help from me. And I think that’s probably what would have happened were it not for the bass. And by bass, I mean lack thereof.
The music for my act is pretty rock and roll and has a killer bass line. It normally does, anyway. I’m not entirely sure what happened, but from pretty much the beginning of my act, the bass, as well as the man playing it, disappeared. Now you would think that one missing musician, while noticeable and unfortunate, wouldn’t be completely disastrous. But my music soon went from sounding a little off, to no longer really sounding like music…
The piano soon turned to mush, the sax didn’t seem entirely sure whether or not it should play at all and so cut in and out half-heartedly, the guitarist seemed to be lost without the bass player by his side, and I’m pretty sure the drummer was just trying to hold everything together.
It is a blessing to perform with musicians playing live by your side. But man, when things go awry, do you ever feel it. Already, I was struggling to get through my act. There is one moment where both the guitarist and the bass player step forward and we have a nice, dramatic little moment. I was relying on that moment to give me that little push to make it through the number. So when I turned toward them and saw that the bassist was still nowhere to be found and the guitarist was 80 billion kilometres away because he either forgot or didn’t feel like stepping forward for our exchange, I felt completely and utterly alone. My heart sank and I continued to limp my way through my act.
Later on, one of the technicians could be heard saying (in reference to my act) that the bass is a pretty damn good thing to have, come to think of it. And you know what? I had the same reflection while on stage. And that was well before things really started to get awkward. Without that solid base (sorry), everything just kind of ripped apart at the seams. I’ve always relied quite a lot on the bass player as a friend for moral support, but that was the night I learned that when it comes to my act, he’s kind of the glue.
Already, the cards were stacked against me. We were coming back from the weekend, and for once, I had actually skipped town. The train ride in from Paris seemed so strange on a show day and I must say, I was not feeling it. Fortunately (unfortunately?), this seemed to be the case for just about everyone.
Now I’ve done shows where my wheel basically did the act without much help from me. And I think that’s probably what would have happened were it not for the bass. And by bass, I mean lack thereof.
The music for my act is pretty rock and roll and has a killer bass line. It normally does, anyway. I’m not entirely sure what happened, but from pretty much the beginning of my act, the bass, as well as the man playing it, disappeared. Now you would think that one missing musician, while noticeable and unfortunate, wouldn’t be completely disastrous. But my music soon went from sounding a little off, to no longer really sounding like music…
The piano soon turned to mush, the sax didn’t seem entirely sure whether or not it should play at all and so cut in and out half-heartedly, the guitarist seemed to be lost without the bass player by his side, and I’m pretty sure the drummer was just trying to hold everything together.
It is a blessing to perform with musicians playing live by your side. But man, when things go awry, do you ever feel it. Already, I was struggling to get through my act. There is one moment where both the guitarist and the bass player step forward and we have a nice, dramatic little moment. I was relying on that moment to give me that little push to make it through the number. So when I turned toward them and saw that the bassist was still nowhere to be found and the guitarist was 80 billion kilometres away because he either forgot or didn’t feel like stepping forward for our exchange, I felt completely and utterly alone. My heart sank and I continued to limp my way through my act.
Later on, one of the technicians could be heard saying (in reference to my act) that the bass is a pretty damn good thing to have, come to think of it. And you know what? I had the same reflection while on stage. And that was well before things really started to get awkward. Without that solid base (sorry), everything just kind of ripped apart at the seams. I’ve always relied quite a lot on the bass player as a friend for moral support, but that was the night I learned that when it comes to my act, he’s kind of the glue.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
One Foot In, One Foot Out
It seems like only yesterday that I was heading to France to audition for my company. I was nervous, of course, but also very excited. I felt I had a sea of possibility before me and that for once, I might actually get to set sail on it. I was on top of the world.
It never occurred to me how the artists on the show that was running at the time, the ones whose jobs I was vying for, might be feeling. It never even entered my head that my happiness in getting a job relied on someone else losing theirs.
Well it’s occurred to me now because I’m the one in the process of being replaced. This show is coming to an end and our time here in Lyon will be peppered with auditions. And frankly, I feel like garbage.
Picture it: I step into the chapiteau to train this morning and run into director, his arms around the shoulders of today’s hopeful candidate. The director, whom I’ve worked with for four years, gets my name wrong. When I correct him, he doesn’t even notice. The guy auditioning? He does cyr wheel*…
The show isn’t even over yet and already the director can’t be bothered to get my name right and on top of it I may well be replaced by someone who does freaking cyr wheel. Cyr wheel! Talk about insult to injury.
Now you may be thinking, ‘You’re not being replaced by a cyr wheel, it’s an entirely new show!’ The only thing is, the new show will basically be a ‘best of’ rehashing of the past 30 years of this company’s history. So it kind of does feel like the German wheel act is being switched out for a cyr wheel act…
I haven’t been happy here for a while now, and the more time passes the more frustrated and angry I become. But for within the past 24 hours I’ve finally reached a point where the idea of all this ending soon is something of a relief. There are a lot of problems with this company, most of which I’ve never written about. The idea of finding myself unemployed remains very scary, but not nearly as scary as the toll working here has had on my mental health.
They say that all good things come to an end. Thank god the not-so-good things come to an end too.
* Why the indignation at cyr wheel? When you specialize in German wheel, it can’t really be helped.
It never occurred to me how the artists on the show that was running at the time, the ones whose jobs I was vying for, might be feeling. It never even entered my head that my happiness in getting a job relied on someone else losing theirs.
Well it’s occurred to me now because I’m the one in the process of being replaced. This show is coming to an end and our time here in Lyon will be peppered with auditions. And frankly, I feel like garbage.
Picture it: I step into the chapiteau to train this morning and run into director, his arms around the shoulders of today’s hopeful candidate. The director, whom I’ve worked with for four years, gets my name wrong. When I correct him, he doesn’t even notice. The guy auditioning? He does cyr wheel*…
The show isn’t even over yet and already the director can’t be bothered to get my name right and on top of it I may well be replaced by someone who does freaking cyr wheel. Cyr wheel! Talk about insult to injury.
Now you may be thinking, ‘You’re not being replaced by a cyr wheel, it’s an entirely new show!’ The only thing is, the new show will basically be a ‘best of’ rehashing of the past 30 years of this company’s history. So it kind of does feel like the German wheel act is being switched out for a cyr wheel act…
I haven’t been happy here for a while now, and the more time passes the more frustrated and angry I become. But for within the past 24 hours I’ve finally reached a point where the idea of all this ending soon is something of a relief. There are a lot of problems with this company, most of which I’ve never written about. The idea of finding myself unemployed remains very scary, but not nearly as scary as the toll working here has had on my mental health.
They say that all good things come to an end. Thank god the not-so-good things come to an end too.
* Why the indignation at cyr wheel? When you specialize in German wheel, it can’t really be helped.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Nothing to See Here….
You know that dream that fictional characters always seem to have where they end up either naked or in their skivvies in front of the entire school/workplace? Well ladies and gentlemen, the other night, I came very close to achieving a dream…
It was the scene before the bazooka, in other words, my shining moment as a clown. Aside from the two boys setting up for the bazooka number, there’s no one else on stage and really, I’m there to take the focus so that the set up can occur in a way that is seamless and entertaining. In other words, all eyes are on me.
But right from the get go, I could tell something was off. While trapped beneath the tarp, I could feel that something wasn’t quite right with my pants. Not really having time to investigate further, I started the sketch. That’s when I figured out what was up with my pants. By this time, I’m sure that you’ve figured it out, too.
Now these pants tend to come a bit unzipped, but we added a snap and that tends to take care of that. But tonight, the snap came undone too, and that zipper kept falling. It should be noted that the zipper is, thank goodness, on the side of my leg, not front and centre. It is, however, really long and unzips to mid-way down my thigh.
So I’m rolling around all over the place (as I tend to do in this moment), the whole time hoping that my very voluminous top doesn’t flip up as I’m flipping over. But as you surely know, the rules of the Universe dictate that in such moments, the side of my body that the zipper is on is the side that will most often be facing the public.
And so, after a few minutes of uncharacteristically reserved flailing, the sketch is just about done! Nothing left to do but look at the audience, look at the guys and retreat. Yes! And it’s as I make my exit that I realize that while I was trying to shield the audience from my hindquarters, my top had also come undone and the ladies were getting a little stage time of their own.
Oops.
It was the scene before the bazooka, in other words, my shining moment as a clown. Aside from the two boys setting up for the bazooka number, there’s no one else on stage and really, I’m there to take the focus so that the set up can occur in a way that is seamless and entertaining. In other words, all eyes are on me.
But right from the get go, I could tell something was off. While trapped beneath the tarp, I could feel that something wasn’t quite right with my pants. Not really having time to investigate further, I started the sketch. That’s when I figured out what was up with my pants. By this time, I’m sure that you’ve figured it out, too.
Now these pants tend to come a bit unzipped, but we added a snap and that tends to take care of that. But tonight, the snap came undone too, and that zipper kept falling. It should be noted that the zipper is, thank goodness, on the side of my leg, not front and centre. It is, however, really long and unzips to mid-way down my thigh.
So I’m rolling around all over the place (as I tend to do in this moment), the whole time hoping that my very voluminous top doesn’t flip up as I’m flipping over. But as you surely know, the rules of the Universe dictate that in such moments, the side of my body that the zipper is on is the side that will most often be facing the public.
And so, after a few minutes of uncharacteristically reserved flailing, the sketch is just about done! Nothing left to do but look at the audience, look at the guys and retreat. Yes! And it’s as I make my exit that I realize that while I was trying to shield the audience from my hindquarters, my top had also come undone and the ladies were getting a little stage time of their own.
Oops.
Monday, November 21, 2011
INTERNET!
Ah, sweet interweb.... I have missed you so.
I'm in Paris for the (circus) weekend and in the past few weeks I've written up a storm! So while my access to internet is limited, there are plenty of posts on deck.
A toute!
I'm in Paris for the (circus) weekend and in the past few weeks I've written up a storm! So while my access to internet is limited, there are plenty of posts on deck.
A toute!
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Friday, November 11, 2011
Dreaming of Summer
A nice recap of the Montreal Completement Cirque Festival 2011. Can't wait for 2012!
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Impro Cirque is Back in Town!
This post, like every other post from the last month or so, was written quite some time ago when I actually had internet access. But being the fan of Impro Cirque that I am, I felt it absolutely necessary that the circus going public be aware that some Impro Cirque action is coming their way.
I'm good like that.
So if you're in Montreal on the 19th of November, or feel like that might be a good time for a road trip, be sure to find your way to the Old Port for a circus experience unlike any other!
I'm good like that.
So if you're in Montreal on the 19th of November, or feel like that might be a good time for a road trip, be sure to find your way to the Old Port for a circus experience unlike any other!
Monday, November 7, 2011
Ho Hum
While having breakfast one morning, I heard someone shouting. I looked out my window to see a man scaling a giant yellow tent. I merely blinked and went back to having breakfast.
I’m sure at some point in my life I would have found that at least mildly interesting, if not crazy.
What the hell happened to me?
I remember when I started circus school oh so many years ago, I spent most of the day with my jaw dangling somewhere near my navel. I was so impressed by everyone around me, and the incredible feats happening in every corner. There was this one time during a trampoline class where my teacher kept having to call me for my turn because I couldn’t stop watching some girl on cloud swing. Didn’t my teacher understand? There was a girl swinging on a rope! Attached to the ceiling! Swinging! I mean… holy crap!
It went on like that for a while until I finally realized that I was one of those really awesome people too. Eventually, I became as jaded as everyone else. What? Only a double back? Just a single twist? Whatever…
Seriously, what the hell happened to me?
The truth is, I know. And I should have known that it would happen as soon as I stepped foot into this incredible world of circus. At first I was beyond amazed, then I had that arrogance that only a student new to a field can have, and bit by bit, as that amazement was replaced by experience, I got used to it.
I’m being a little hard on myself though. I’m not as jaded as all that. I still love to discover a new space (be it training or performance), and knowing the work that goes into mastering a discipline and creating an act, I still appreciate the work that I see. A lot of the time, I’m even impressed by it. I said something about being less jaded, didn’t I? Oops…
I’m less impressed by grandeur and more impressed by cleverness. I suppose I’ve gone from not being able to see the safety lines, to seeing only the safety lines, to seeing beyond the safety lines, if that makes any sense.
I’ve often heard that going to the circus, with its awe and wonder, turns us all back into children, if only for a moment. And as much as I love having a deeper understanding of the world circus and being able to appreciate it on a different level than when I knew nothing at all about the art, I do miss that feeling.
Perhaps it's time to move on to something new.
I’m sure at some point in my life I would have found that at least mildly interesting, if not crazy.
What the hell happened to me?
I remember when I started circus school oh so many years ago, I spent most of the day with my jaw dangling somewhere near my navel. I was so impressed by everyone around me, and the incredible feats happening in every corner. There was this one time during a trampoline class where my teacher kept having to call me for my turn because I couldn’t stop watching some girl on cloud swing. Didn’t my teacher understand? There was a girl swinging on a rope! Attached to the ceiling! Swinging! I mean… holy crap!
It went on like that for a while until I finally realized that I was one of those really awesome people too. Eventually, I became as jaded as everyone else. What? Only a double back? Just a single twist? Whatever…
Seriously, what the hell happened to me?
The truth is, I know. And I should have known that it would happen as soon as I stepped foot into this incredible world of circus. At first I was beyond amazed, then I had that arrogance that only a student new to a field can have, and bit by bit, as that amazement was replaced by experience, I got used to it.
I’m being a little hard on myself though. I’m not as jaded as all that. I still love to discover a new space (be it training or performance), and knowing the work that goes into mastering a discipline and creating an act, I still appreciate the work that I see. A lot of the time, I’m even impressed by it. I said something about being less jaded, didn’t I? Oops…
I’m less impressed by grandeur and more impressed by cleverness. I suppose I’ve gone from not being able to see the safety lines, to seeing only the safety lines, to seeing beyond the safety lines, if that makes any sense.
I’ve often heard that going to the circus, with its awe and wonder, turns us all back into children, if only for a moment. And as much as I love having a deeper understanding of the world circus and being able to appreciate it on a different level than when I knew nothing at all about the art, I do miss that feeling.
Perhaps it's time to move on to something new.
Friday, November 4, 2011
From Street Performer to Billionaire
An interesting interview with Cirque du Soleil founder Guy Laliberté conducted by Barbara Walters. I'm not sure there are any new insights into the life and times of this circus legend, but it's still an entertaining enough video to watch with lots of great footage from various Cirque du Soleil shows.
Enjoy!
Enjoy!
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
So I Says to the Guy I Says...
Did you hear the one about the circus manager who made the clowns undress in his office?
He likes comic strips.
Ba dum bum! Ching!
He likes comic strips.
Ba dum bum! Ching!
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