I mentioned how a week into the tour we already had an artist miss a show due to injury. Well, one week later we were another man down. Only this time it was the trumpet player and band leader. He was hospitalized for bleeding in the stomach. The saxophone player stepped in as interim band leader and, I dare say, did a great job. The band very much held it together, adapted the music well, and played a great show.
The only problem now is, as the French say, il n'y a jamais deux sans trois*...
* There's never two without three.
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Monday, February 18, 2013
Pleasure in the Details
Before coming to Switzerland, my French cast mates kept telling me that it was going to be challenging because the Swiss are so anal and are a bunch of perfectionists. Little did they know that I was beyond excited for just that mentality. After five years of apathy and shit just not getting done, I was really looking forward to some organization and serious "on the ball" action.
I have not been disappointed.
By the beginning of the second week, I already had music composed for my act. The second week! I was just re-reading old entries about the creation of my last show and I had forgotten just how behind we were in the days approaching the show. Nineteen days before the premiere, there were still acts that had no music. Five days before the show, I still had no costume. And here I am at the beginning of the second week and I already have my music? Wow!
Not only do I have music, but it is awesome music. We're talking epic. It's got a somewhat traditional sound to it, but I love it. It makes me feel powerful, sexy, grounded, and light. I just hope I can fill it! The composer, clever man that he is, started composing for everyone based on their videos well before we arrived. That's why we have something to work with so quickly. Every week he comes to rehearsal and we have time with him to make changes and to fine tune it. It's such an effective and efficient way to work. Plus, P is really open to our feedback and finding a way to make the music work with the act. I love it
As for my costume, that too is well under way! And let me just say, in this show I will have the costume that I should have had in my previous show. It is gorgeous. I am going to be gorgeous. Once again, I have the good fortune of being in red. Only this time, the costume lives up to the sexiness that red evokes. No lame-o shorts this time, folks! I will be in a little red velvet halter dress with red and gold lace accents, red and gold lace peeking out from underneath the skirt, and flesh tone fishnet tights!
Holy wow!
My group costume is less exciting, of course. But that's normal. As the directors have said, during your act, you need to stand out and look like a princess or a shining jewel! And the group needs to look like a group so... yeah. But my group costume is also red with a lovely neckline so I feel pretty good about that too.
All in all, I'm feeling pretty good. There are some people who are not pleased with their costumes, and others who are just as elated as I am. I guess we'll have to see what everything looks like all together before we can really know for sure.
I have not been disappointed.
By the beginning of the second week, I already had music composed for my act. The second week! I was just re-reading old entries about the creation of my last show and I had forgotten just how behind we were in the days approaching the show. Nineteen days before the premiere, there were still acts that had no music. Five days before the show, I still had no costume. And here I am at the beginning of the second week and I already have my music? Wow!
Not only do I have music, but it is awesome music. We're talking epic. It's got a somewhat traditional sound to it, but I love it. It makes me feel powerful, sexy, grounded, and light. I just hope I can fill it! The composer, clever man that he is, started composing for everyone based on their videos well before we arrived. That's why we have something to work with so quickly. Every week he comes to rehearsal and we have time with him to make changes and to fine tune it. It's such an effective and efficient way to work. Plus, P is really open to our feedback and finding a way to make the music work with the act. I love it
As for my costume, that too is well under way! And let me just say, in this show I will have the costume that I should have had in my previous show. It is gorgeous. I am going to be gorgeous. Once again, I have the good fortune of being in red. Only this time, the costume lives up to the sexiness that red evokes. No lame-o shorts this time, folks! I will be in a little red velvet halter dress with red and gold lace accents, red and gold lace peeking out from underneath the skirt, and flesh tone fishnet tights!
Holy wow!
My group costume is less exciting, of course. But that's normal. As the directors have said, during your act, you need to stand out and look like a princess or a shining jewel! And the group needs to look like a group so... yeah. But my group costume is also red with a lovely neckline so I feel pretty good about that too.
All in all, I'm feeling pretty good. There are some people who are not pleased with their costumes, and others who are just as elated as I am. I guess we'll have to see what everything looks like all together before we can really know for sure.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Joke’s On You!
There are a number of practical jokers in the troupe, so it’s not at all uncommon to find yourself in the middle of some strange war or other. For example, the two clowns seem to be going through a phase where they place each other’s belongings in trees. Camping chairs, bicycles, and such like…
Well, one Sunday matinee where the levels of concentration were particularly low, A bested everyone. He managed to pull a doozy on… himself.
We were getting into position for his number. At this time, I cross paths with the bass player. Normally he makes some silly face or weird noise to try and make D and I laugh. But this time, he made awkward hand gestures and a big sad frowny face.
Uncomprehending, I turned to face centre stage when I saw A with a face like a deer in the headlights. He was holing the bass player’s bow in his hands and it was quickly dawning on him that his really awesome joke might not be so awesome after all.
Incredulous, I stared at him unsure how to proceed. I know I’ve mentioned in the past that I actually love a little bit of on stage drama, and this kind of situation was right up my alley. His act involves a lot of personal torment (don’t ask) and there’s a lot of maniacal swinging involved, so the bow was definitely in danger. Plus, L kind of needed the thing to play the music properly.
A’s first instinct was to place the bow in the middle of the stage. Not the best choice, if you ask me. Then he considered trying to slide it over the few meters it needed to travel in order to get to where the bassist was standing. Seeing as a bow isn’t the heartiest of objects, it’s a good thing A quickly thought better of that attempt.
In the meantime, I kept mouthing to D that I was going to get it. I didn’t know how and I didn’t know when, but I was going to get it. Finally, a moment presented itself, and in act that I can only hope made sense theatrically, I retrieved the bow.
Of course now I was brandishing the bow like an idiot with a sword. Plus, it still had to find it’s way to the bassist’s hands. And for the life of me, I couldn’t remember at what point the bow was needed for the music, so it had to happen fast. With some more quick thinking and what I thought was some pretty smooth moves, I got the bow to L.
L’s reaction to the whole thing was something along the lines of “Whatever, man. It’s his own music that he’s screwing up. Not my problem.”
A, on the other hand, staggered into the next scene in a daze muttering something about being fired…
Well, one Sunday matinee where the levels of concentration were particularly low, A bested everyone. He managed to pull a doozy on… himself.
We were getting into position for his number. At this time, I cross paths with the bass player. Normally he makes some silly face or weird noise to try and make D and I laugh. But this time, he made awkward hand gestures and a big sad frowny face.
Uncomprehending, I turned to face centre stage when I saw A with a face like a deer in the headlights. He was holing the bass player’s bow in his hands and it was quickly dawning on him that his really awesome joke might not be so awesome after all.
Incredulous, I stared at him unsure how to proceed. I know I’ve mentioned in the past that I actually love a little bit of on stage drama, and this kind of situation was right up my alley. His act involves a lot of personal torment (don’t ask) and there’s a lot of maniacal swinging involved, so the bow was definitely in danger. Plus, L kind of needed the thing to play the music properly.
A’s first instinct was to place the bow in the middle of the stage. Not the best choice, if you ask me. Then he considered trying to slide it over the few meters it needed to travel in order to get to where the bassist was standing. Seeing as a bow isn’t the heartiest of objects, it’s a good thing A quickly thought better of that attempt.
In the meantime, I kept mouthing to D that I was going to get it. I didn’t know how and I didn’t know when, but I was going to get it. Finally, a moment presented itself, and in act that I can only hope made sense theatrically, I retrieved the bow.
Of course now I was brandishing the bow like an idiot with a sword. Plus, it still had to find it’s way to the bassist’s hands. And for the life of me, I couldn’t remember at what point the bow was needed for the music, so it had to happen fast. With some more quick thinking and what I thought was some pretty smooth moves, I got the bow to L.
L’s reaction to the whole thing was something along the lines of “Whatever, man. It’s his own music that he’s screwing up. Not my problem.”
A, on the other hand, staggered into the next scene in a daze muttering something about being fired…
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.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Music Lesson
Based on the performance of last night's show, I have understood the following:
If you play all the notes, you're bound to get some of them right!
If you flat omit a bunch of notes, you can't possibly play them wrong!
It's a winning combination if ever there was one!
Sigh...
If you play all the notes, you're bound to get some of them right!
If you flat omit a bunch of notes, you can't possibly play them wrong!
It's a winning combination if ever there was one!
Sigh...
Friday, March 12, 2010
Ah, Karma
I should have known better than to make fun of the non-traditional wheel. Though in my defense, I did restrain myself and try to point out some of its positive points. In the end, however, the Circus Gods would have none of it. I would get my comeuppance swiftly, and in front of an audience of over a thousand people. And for it to really count, it would be the night the staff from the Lido was to attend the show.
I often mention the more disastrous performances. The ones riddled with technical glitches and costume malfunctions. But this show was different. I felt off from the start and never managed to get back on.
Of course it didn't help that a good chunk of the cast and crew had their substitutes come in, or in the case of P, take over from his substitute. Among those picking up the slack, was B, the guy who replaces the pianist and composer. I remember back in St-Quentin there was a bit of a problem with one part of my music so I made sure to go over it with him prior to the show. So you can imagine my surprise when, getting into the groove of my act, the music starts a good 30 or 40 seconds early. The other musicians, of course, had no choice but to follow.
Thrown completely off guard and left extremely unsettled, I spent the next 6 minutes chasing the music. The number was terrible. I was in a panic the whole time, I was messy, I made a number of stupid mistakes and just wanted the act to be over.
Afterward, I had to endure comments of "you scared me when the wheel wobbled, don't ever do that again" and "wow, your number seemed better tonight. It wasn't as slow as usual". And my favourite, "Oh? There was a problem with the music?"
The musicians were oblivious to the fact that the music was not at all with the number and T left me feeling like my act, when done in a way that feels authentic to me, is slow and wrong. That I should be in a panic all the time. Great.
I was so angry. Those responsible for hiring me at the Lido got to witness a mediocre number (we hired her? Aieee...) and now I'm completely questioning how I am on stage. That state of questioning plagued me the entire show. I wanted so badly to redeem myself that I became hyper-aware of everything I was doing, judging myself as I went along. And that right there, is artistic suicide.
The whole show I went from feeling bad to worse. There were times I just wanted to burst into tears I felt so ill at ease on stage.
And yet, today, with 12 or so hours distance from that crap show, I don't feel quite so bent out of shape about it. Which is a relief and a welcome change of character for me. I'm curious to see what tonight's show will bring...
I often mention the more disastrous performances. The ones riddled with technical glitches and costume malfunctions. But this show was different. I felt off from the start and never managed to get back on.
Of course it didn't help that a good chunk of the cast and crew had their substitutes come in, or in the case of P, take over from his substitute. Among those picking up the slack, was B, the guy who replaces the pianist and composer. I remember back in St-Quentin there was a bit of a problem with one part of my music so I made sure to go over it with him prior to the show. So you can imagine my surprise when, getting into the groove of my act, the music starts a good 30 or 40 seconds early. The other musicians, of course, had no choice but to follow.
Thrown completely off guard and left extremely unsettled, I spent the next 6 minutes chasing the music. The number was terrible. I was in a panic the whole time, I was messy, I made a number of stupid mistakes and just wanted the act to be over.
Afterward, I had to endure comments of "you scared me when the wheel wobbled, don't ever do that again" and "wow, your number seemed better tonight. It wasn't as slow as usual". And my favourite, "Oh? There was a problem with the music?"
The musicians were oblivious to the fact that the music was not at all with the number and T left me feeling like my act, when done in a way that feels authentic to me, is slow and wrong. That I should be in a panic all the time. Great.
I was so angry. Those responsible for hiring me at the Lido got to witness a mediocre number (we hired her? Aieee...) and now I'm completely questioning how I am on stage. That state of questioning plagued me the entire show. I wanted so badly to redeem myself that I became hyper-aware of everything I was doing, judging myself as I went along. And that right there, is artistic suicide.
The whole show I went from feeling bad to worse. There were times I just wanted to burst into tears I felt so ill at ease on stage.
And yet, today, with 12 or so hours distance from that crap show, I don't feel quite so bent out of shape about it. Which is a relief and a welcome change of character for me. I'm curious to see what tonight's show will bring...
Saturday, March 6, 2010
The Day the Music Died
Monday was the premiere of the show here in Toulouse (technically, Blagnac) and also the first set of shows after a month and a half long break. As you can imagine, we were a little bit rusty and a little bit nervous. But that is to be expected. What is not, however, is sudden instrument failure.
And let me tell you, nothing sets the mood better than a false note played on an accordion.
Well, almost nothing. Several, false notes in succession does a pretty good job as well. It wasn't M's fault. Her instrument just up and died. On stage. After a couple of failed attempts at starting the melody, she just gave up and started signing it. Oddly enough, the accordion seemed to allow a later part of the music to be played on it. But not that first section. Weird.
But the accordion has been problematic in the past. This day wouldn't be of any particular note if it weren't for the double bass.
Oh the double bass...
Of all the instruments in our circus, the double bass is the most prone to catastrophe. Things fall on it, bump into it, and knock it over (it is kind of tippy). It is constantly under threat of being damaged or knocked out of tune. The saddest thing about that, is that the musician who plays the bass takes such good care of his material and is exceptionally careful around his equipment and the equipment of others.
So it was no surprise that when a loud bang occurred off stage, the first thing that popped into most people's minds was a variation of "Something just happened to the double bass."
Sure enough, upon entering the wings, there was the double bass, strings slack and askew, bridge no where to be found.
While the first thought was that it had fallen over, initial reports suggested that something had actually fallen on it. However, a lack of any such thing in the vicinity of the accident quickly ruled out that possibility. After no other explanation could be found, the best kind of explanation was settled on: spontaneous combustion.
Okay, not the really awesome fiery kind, but the kind where it burst apart for no other reason than it damn well felt like it. This has happened before, but at the time the neck was loose, resulting in the sudden collapse. But that was fixed months ago.
L brought his double bass in to be looked at, but nothing seems to be wrong with it.
Except that it went and exploded again a couple of days ago.
Oh, I should probably mention what happened after the double bass flipped off that night's show. L, being made entirely out of awesome, quickly adapted all the remaining double bass material for a five string electric bass. He had only one number to do this and had to do it in total darkness.
That, ladies and gentleman, is an artist.
And let me tell you, nothing sets the mood better than a false note played on an accordion.
Well, almost nothing. Several, false notes in succession does a pretty good job as well. It wasn't M's fault. Her instrument just up and died. On stage. After a couple of failed attempts at starting the melody, she just gave up and started signing it. Oddly enough, the accordion seemed to allow a later part of the music to be played on it. But not that first section. Weird.
But the accordion has been problematic in the past. This day wouldn't be of any particular note if it weren't for the double bass.
Oh the double bass...
Of all the instruments in our circus, the double bass is the most prone to catastrophe. Things fall on it, bump into it, and knock it over (it is kind of tippy). It is constantly under threat of being damaged or knocked out of tune. The saddest thing about that, is that the musician who plays the bass takes such good care of his material and is exceptionally careful around his equipment and the equipment of others.
So it was no surprise that when a loud bang occurred off stage, the first thing that popped into most people's minds was a variation of "Something just happened to the double bass."
Sure enough, upon entering the wings, there was the double bass, strings slack and askew, bridge no where to be found.
While the first thought was that it had fallen over, initial reports suggested that something had actually fallen on it. However, a lack of any such thing in the vicinity of the accident quickly ruled out that possibility. After no other explanation could be found, the best kind of explanation was settled on: spontaneous combustion.
Okay, not the really awesome fiery kind, but the kind where it burst apart for no other reason than it damn well felt like it. This has happened before, but at the time the neck was loose, resulting in the sudden collapse. But that was fixed months ago.
L brought his double bass in to be looked at, but nothing seems to be wrong with it.
Except that it went and exploded again a couple of days ago.
Oh, I should probably mention what happened after the double bass flipped off that night's show. L, being made entirely out of awesome, quickly adapted all the remaining double bass material for a five string electric bass. He had only one number to do this and had to do it in total darkness.
That, ladies and gentleman, is an artist.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
Five, six, seven, eight...
One of the great things about my circus is that we have musicians on stage with us. Not only that, but we have music composed for us. Not only THAT, but the artists have quite a lot of say when it comes to the music we’ll be performing to.
Originally, I was going to have some nice, soft, pretty music. Then, after an impromptu jam session during my training time, the musicians and I conspired to have some full on rock music. After the first official look at my number, our plans have proved successful. More so than we could possibly have imagined…
I haven’t heard the finished piece. I’ve worked with improvised bits, but that’s about it. The musicians have been holed up in their little music cave, working away while the base line reverberates through the Chapiteau.
I’m incredibly excited because the music is dark, sexy, violent and intense. I’ve never worked to music like this before. I’ve always been either little and cute, or pretty and melancholy. For once, I get to play the hot, bad ass.
The musicians are incredibly excited because, from what they’ve told me so far, the music really rips, they really let loose, they (the company) has never had music like this before, and its just a killer piece of music.
All I need now is a copy...
Originally, I was going to have some nice, soft, pretty music. Then, after an impromptu jam session during my training time, the musicians and I conspired to have some full on rock music. After the first official look at my number, our plans have proved successful. More so than we could possibly have imagined…
I haven’t heard the finished piece. I’ve worked with improvised bits, but that’s about it. The musicians have been holed up in their little music cave, working away while the base line reverberates through the Chapiteau.
I’m incredibly excited because the music is dark, sexy, violent and intense. I’ve never worked to music like this before. I’ve always been either little and cute, or pretty and melancholy. For once, I get to play the hot, bad ass.
The musicians are incredibly excited because, from what they’ve told me so far, the music really rips, they really let loose, they (the company) has never had music like this before, and its just a killer piece of music.
All I need now is a copy...
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