- Published on
There has never been a time when I haven’t seen The Sound of Music. I watched it on repeat throughout my childhood, transfixed by the beautiful music, the seven children (yes, but seven!), the gorgeous scenery, and, of course, my surrogate childhood nanny, Julie Andrews. I’ve been to Sing-a-long Sound of Music and cheered Maria, booed the Nazis, waved my edelweiss, and roared with laughter at the hilariously inappropriate, “Maria, what is it you can’t face?”. I have watched every Oprah “Where Are They Now?” special, gobbled up all the trivia tidbits, and listened to the audio commentary. With delight, I have sat with a new generation watching Maria twirl on the mountain and become entranced as they too learn their do, rei, mi’s.
Lawrence Downes recently suggested that The Sound of Music is due for a remake, arguing that the successful recent revivals of Oklahoma and South Pacific demonstrate how old shows can be made new again. The Sound of Music doesn’t need to be revived or made new. The original 1965 film still resonates with audiences today, as evidenced by the on-going popularity of Sing-a-long Sound of Music events around the world, the hype around the 50th anniversary, and the horrified reaction to The Sound of Music Live on NBC.
Yes, clearly Sound of Music is one of my favorite things. And my belief is this: if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. If Maria taught me anything, it’s that if God closes a door, somewhere he opens a window. Instead of remaking what doesn’t need to be remade, I’d like to offer a few things producers can do with all the moolah for such a project.
Things to Do Instead of Remaking The Sound of Music
So dear powers that be, producers, directors, writers, and guardians of the Rogers and Hammerstein estate, please, please, do not remake The Sound of Music. Consider doing something good instead.
Lawrence Downes recently suggested that The Sound of Music is due for a remake, arguing that the successful recent revivals of Oklahoma and South Pacific demonstrate how old shows can be made new again. The Sound of Music doesn’t need to be revived or made new. The original 1965 film still resonates with audiences today, as evidenced by the on-going popularity of Sing-a-long Sound of Music events around the world, the hype around the 50th anniversary, and the horrified reaction to The Sound of Music Live on NBC.
Yes, clearly Sound of Music is one of my favorite things. And my belief is this: if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. If Maria taught me anything, it’s that if God closes a door, somewhere he opens a window. Instead of remaking what doesn’t need to be remade, I’d like to offer a few things producers can do with all the moolah for such a project.
Things to Do Instead of Remaking The Sound of Music
- Film Broadway musicals for distribution at cinemas or online. Recently an eager fan was slammed by Lin-Manuel Miranda, Tony Award winning composer and star of In the Heights, for illegally seeking a pirated copy of his newest production Hamilton. I’m so enthralled by filmed live musicals, I wrote my Masters Thesis on them. There is a solid market for filmed live musicals. High quality recordings are valuable not just for entertainment, but for education, and archival preservation. The Met Opera, Shakespeare's Globe Theatre, and Digital Theatre are just three models proving the success of live theatre on screen.
- Invest in recording regional productions. Broadway may be the capital of live theatre in the USA, but there is plenty of wonderful work being produced beyond the Great White Way. Same deal for entertainment, education, archival preservation applies.
- Invest in school arts programs. Many schools are facing drastic budget cuts and the first subjects and extra curricular programs to go are from the arts. There is a mountain of evidence (also here) that shows that participating in art, drama, and music programs develops many skills. Students learn problem solving, interpersonal skills, self-expression, and develop a sense of place and belonging.
- Provide scholarships for students to attend music and theatre camps. Every summer many camps in and around New York provide stimulating and enriching music and theatre programs. Programs such as Buck's Rock Performing and Creative Arts Camp (full disclosure, I’ve been working at Buck’s Rock since 2008), A Broader Way and French Woods all provide quality access to music, theatre, and the creative arts.
- Fund performing arts travel scholarships. Scholarships to help school groups travel to see professional theatre. Bring school groups from overseas to America. Take groups abroad. Cross-cultural understanding and friendships make the world a better place, and maybe even prevent conflicts.
- Fund music programs for refugees. Music has a powerful capacity for healing, helping with stress relief, and providing hope. The true life story of The Sound of Music is about a family of talented musicians who fled war in Europe, came to the USA for a better life, and opened a music camp in Vermont. What better way to honor the Von Trapp legacy than by helping people who have fled war?
So dear powers that be, producers, directors, writers, and guardians of the Rogers and Hammerstein estate, please, please, do not remake The Sound of Music. Consider doing something good instead.
- Published on
Watching the movie musical
Of the musical
That has been in my life
Longer than five years
Memories of my interactions with the show
Flood back
Early uni days
In Sydney
When cast albums became accessible
And the internet made
Broadway
Not so far away
And I “discovered”
Jason Robert Brown and
The Last Five Years
Working on the student production
Lighting op with Len
Who became one of my dearest friends
The musty smell of Fig Tree Theatre
Watching the production at Sydney Uni
Directed by Benita, now at Columbia
Starring Blake, now in Blood Brothers
And Lexi, now an opera singer in Berlin
An early date with the boy
Who I thought would be husband
We were engaged in September 2009
And by February 2010
Five years ago
It was all over.
And then it all began.
I quit my day job
I started meditating
I saw JRB in concert
I auditioned for drama school
I moved to London
I fell in love
I walked across Spain
I moved to Colorado
I got married
We moved to New York
I got fucking cancer
I sat in my lounge room and watched
The Last Five Years movie musical
On demand. Because you can do that now.
Seeing New York flit across the screen
Your new home town
Soon you’ll join the line of girls
Belting as high as they can
And you’ve been through that break-up
You’ve felt that euphoria
Goodbye until tomorrow
And you just have to be patient
For the next ten minutes
And that score
The way it catches in your throat
Breaks your heart
And brings back all these memories of
The last five years.
Of the musical
That has been in my life
Longer than five years
Memories of my interactions with the show
Flood back
Early uni days
In Sydney
When cast albums became accessible
And the internet made
Broadway
Not so far away
And I “discovered”
Jason Robert Brown and
The Last Five Years
Working on the student production
Lighting op with Len
Who became one of my dearest friends
The musty smell of Fig Tree Theatre
Watching the production at Sydney Uni
Directed by Benita, now at Columbia
Starring Blake, now in Blood Brothers
And Lexi, now an opera singer in Berlin
An early date with the boy
Who I thought would be husband
We were engaged in September 2009
And by February 2010
Five years ago
It was all over.
And then it all began.
I quit my day job
I started meditating
I saw JRB in concert
I auditioned for drama school
I moved to London
I fell in love
I walked across Spain
I moved to Colorado
I got married
We moved to New York
I got fucking cancer
I sat in my lounge room and watched
The Last Five Years movie musical
On demand. Because you can do that now.
Seeing New York flit across the screen
Your new home town
Soon you’ll join the line of girls
Belting as high as they can
And you’ve been through that break-up
You’ve felt that euphoria
Goodbye until tomorrow
And you just have to be patient
For the next ten minutes
And that score
The way it catches in your throat
Breaks your heart
And brings back all these memories of
The last five years.
- Published on
me. (almost) thirty and fabulous in NYC.
I’m turning 30 in three days. For the last six years, my dream has been to be 30 and FABULOUS in New York City. I was going to celebrate by picnicking in Central Park, seeing a Broadway show, and drinking fancy cocktails. Instead, I will be preparing for a second round of chemotherapy because I have a life-threatening illness called acute myeloid leukemia.
Cancer sucks. I’m not going to lie. No amount of Julie Andrews-Mary Poppins-Maria Von Trapp inspired positivity is going to change that fact. It has made me very, very sick. It makes me feel utterly, utterly exhausted. It has taken a toll on my loved ones. It has put an unfair strain on my still-less-than-a-year-old marriage. It has made our move to NYC harder, and more complicated.
Six weeks before my 30th birthday, I was faced with my own mortality. I was told that if I did not undergo treatment, I would be dead in a month. It was sobering. Treatment was no picnic. I feel like it was worse for the friends and family who looked on feeling helpless (they were not helpless. Their very presence was a gift), all I had to do was lie there. A week ago, I filled out a form that gave instructions for what to do in the event that I couldn’t make decisions for myself.
In terms of a bad situation, I truly don’t have the worst scenario. For now, I’m at home in Brooklyn (!!), in a sunny and spacious apartment, with my truly wonderful and loving husband. I’m receiving treatment at one of the top hospitals on the planet. I have been given an amazing insight into the truly wonderful support network and web of love I am a part of (as written about previously). I have been able to understand how I have positively impacted on other people’s lives. I am loved, held, and cherished.
Friends and family have started asking what I’d like for my birthday. I honestly can’t think of anything materially. I want to be cured. I want to be well. I want to live for another 50-60 years and snuggle my darling husband and tell him every day for forever how much I love him. I want to sing and dance on Broadway and trip the light fantastic and and teach voice and stage plays and write stories and travel to places I haven’t seen. I want to eat delicious food and grow my own veggies and volunteer in community gardens. I want to explore our new neighborhood. I want to play in NYC. I want to read books, see shows, watch films. I want to meet Julie Andrews and thank her for raising me. I want to meet Patti LuPone and thank her for inspiring me. I want to meet Geoffrey Rush and do a master class with him. I want to work. I want to play. I want to live.
In three days, I will be turning 30. I’m in NYC. I'm bald, and dammit, I'm fabulous. There will be no picnic in Central Park, or a Broadway show, or cocktails. That’ll happen when I’m better (you’re all invited. Details to follow). For now, here are my birthday requests (10 for September 10th). They are things I love and want to share. Please do one, some, or any of the below.
You are welcome to share this post. You are welcome to write and share your stories, I'd love to hear from you (although my replies may be slow... chemo brain is real!).
With love and gratitude,
Lu xx
Cancer sucks. I’m not going to lie. No amount of Julie Andrews-Mary Poppins-Maria Von Trapp inspired positivity is going to change that fact. It has made me very, very sick. It makes me feel utterly, utterly exhausted. It has taken a toll on my loved ones. It has put an unfair strain on my still-less-than-a-year-old marriage. It has made our move to NYC harder, and more complicated.
Six weeks before my 30th birthday, I was faced with my own mortality. I was told that if I did not undergo treatment, I would be dead in a month. It was sobering. Treatment was no picnic. I feel like it was worse for the friends and family who looked on feeling helpless (they were not helpless. Their very presence was a gift), all I had to do was lie there. A week ago, I filled out a form that gave instructions for what to do in the event that I couldn’t make decisions for myself.
In terms of a bad situation, I truly don’t have the worst scenario. For now, I’m at home in Brooklyn (!!), in a sunny and spacious apartment, with my truly wonderful and loving husband. I’m receiving treatment at one of the top hospitals on the planet. I have been given an amazing insight into the truly wonderful support network and web of love I am a part of (as written about previously). I have been able to understand how I have positively impacted on other people’s lives. I am loved, held, and cherished.
Friends and family have started asking what I’d like for my birthday. I honestly can’t think of anything materially. I want to be cured. I want to be well. I want to live for another 50-60 years and snuggle my darling husband and tell him every day for forever how much I love him. I want to sing and dance on Broadway and trip the light fantastic and and teach voice and stage plays and write stories and travel to places I haven’t seen. I want to eat delicious food and grow my own veggies and volunteer in community gardens. I want to explore our new neighborhood. I want to play in NYC. I want to read books, see shows, watch films. I want to meet Julie Andrews and thank her for raising me. I want to meet Patti LuPone and thank her for inspiring me. I want to meet Geoffrey Rush and do a master class with him. I want to work. I want to play. I want to live.
In three days, I will be turning 30. I’m in NYC. I'm bald, and dammit, I'm fabulous. There will be no picnic in Central Park, or a Broadway show, or cocktails. That’ll happen when I’m better (you’re all invited. Details to follow). For now, here are my birthday requests (10 for September 10th). They are things I love and want to share. Please do one, some, or any of the below.
- Write to someone you have been thinking kindly about. Make it a person you have not spoken to in a long time. Do it without expectation of a response. Tell them you’ve been thinking of them and why.
- Buy a copy of The Big Issue, or equivalent street mag, from the next vendor you see.
- Pay attention to your breath for one minute. Don’t worry about whether you’re “doing it right” or breathing “properly”. Just pause and watch your breath go in and out for one minute. Repeat throughout the day as you remember this request.
- Read an actual book. Not on a device, an actual book. Smell the pages. Feel the pages between your fingers. Savor the delicious feeling of being-almost-at-the-end and not wanting it to be finished.
- That instrument you’ve always wanted to learn? Work out right now how you can get a hold of that instrument, and seek out lessons. The internet is an amazing place.
- Seek out your local farmer’s market. Buy something you’ve never seen/eaten before and learn what to do with it.
- If you are willing and able, donate blood and/or platelets. Google it right now to find out where you can do so in your city. If you can’t donate, consider sharing information on how to do so.
- If you are willing and able, sign up to be a donor on the bone marrow registry in your country. You could be a life-saving match for someone. Google it right now to find out where you can do so in your city.
- Be kind to yourself. No really. Stop being so hard on yourself. You are awesome and more loved and valued than you realize.
- Remember that you are alive. Remember your passions and what makes your spine tingle with delight, your heart race, and your soul feel happy. Allow yourself to feel sad when you’re down. It’s ok. This too shall pass. The good, the bad, the ugly. Just be here.
You are welcome to share this post. You are welcome to write and share your stories, I'd love to hear from you (although my replies may be slow... chemo brain is real!).
With love and gratitude,
Lu xx
- Published on
Team building. Photo by Bob Dicke. Check out the Buck's Rock Photo Blog for more.
I am in my happy place, summer camp. It seems insane. Over the past several years, I’ve given up opportunities and a “normal”, “regular” life in the outside world in order to be able to be here for just eight weeks of each year.
A day is a week. A week a year. A summer, a literal lifetime.
This is my sixth summer, third in music/theatre (after three in guidance). It’s hard to describe what I love about this place. The artistic community. The constant collaboration. The way people spend their days, and nights, making art, creating theatre. The campus itself. The smell of the place. The green of the trees. Even the bugs. The staff are some of the most best people I’ve ever met.
The campers are amazing. They’re my babies. I am so damn proud of them. I’ve watched a generation of campers grow from young precocious kids into thriving, creative, wonderful adults.
This year’s campers arrived today. Walking through camp and seeing them playing, making art, and hanging out as if that’s what they’d always done makes me feel so joyful. Knowing that art is happening all around me is glorious. And not just the art. The learning and growing that I know is happening at this very moment. It's overwhelming.
Being a part of the formative years of a bunch of people’s lives. Spending my summer’s helping to stage two full-scale musicals. Helping kids discover their potential and skills they didn’t even know they had.
It is damn hard work. The hours are long. There’s not much of a financial incentive. But oh god, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
For the next three weeks, we’re working on Avenue Q. Check back here for weekly updates on the show diary!
A day is a week. A week a year. A summer, a literal lifetime.
This is my sixth summer, third in music/theatre (after three in guidance). It’s hard to describe what I love about this place. The artistic community. The constant collaboration. The way people spend their days, and nights, making art, creating theatre. The campus itself. The smell of the place. The green of the trees. Even the bugs. The staff are some of the most best people I’ve ever met.
The campers are amazing. They’re my babies. I am so damn proud of them. I’ve watched a generation of campers grow from young precocious kids into thriving, creative, wonderful adults.
This year’s campers arrived today. Walking through camp and seeing them playing, making art, and hanging out as if that’s what they’d always done makes me feel so joyful. Knowing that art is happening all around me is glorious. And not just the art. The learning and growing that I know is happening at this very moment. It's overwhelming.
Being a part of the formative years of a bunch of people’s lives. Spending my summer’s helping to stage two full-scale musicals. Helping kids discover their potential and skills they didn’t even know they had.
It is damn hard work. The hours are long. There’s not much of a financial incentive. But oh god, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
For the next three weeks, we’re working on Avenue Q. Check back here for weekly updates on the show diary!
- Published on
image from USA Today
Idina performed
Let It Go
Along with Jimmy Fallon and
The Roots
A completely different setting
To the Oscars
Surrounded by musicians
Relaxed
Casual
Playing classroom instruments
Everyone clearly
Having a total blast
For whatever reason
The instruments they're playing?
Vocal exhaustion?
(The woman has flown across country
Twice in as many days
Performed at an intensely hyped
Awards ceremony,
Her collaborators won a bunch of
Said awards
And she's in tech rehearsals
For a new Broadway show
That's gotta take some sort of toll)
The arrangement is down
A semitone from the original
And what a difference
A semitone makes!
Without the microphones
Flying cameras or
Hollywood elite
Staring up at her
You can hear the full power of
Idina's voice
The. Woman. Can. Belt.
And oh god, it's
Thrilling
The money note
It's just a D
Idina's got this
Let the storm rage OOOOOOON.
YES!
Nailed it.
Let It Go
Along with Jimmy Fallon and
The Roots
A completely different setting
To the Oscars
Surrounded by musicians
Relaxed
Casual
Playing classroom instruments
Everyone clearly
Having a total blast
For whatever reason
The instruments they're playing?
Vocal exhaustion?
(The woman has flown across country
Twice in as many days
Performed at an intensely hyped
Awards ceremony,
Her collaborators won a bunch of
Said awards
And she's in tech rehearsals
For a new Broadway show
That's gotta take some sort of toll)
The arrangement is down
A semitone from the original
And what a difference
A semitone makes!
Without the microphones
Flying cameras or
Hollywood elite
Staring up at her
You can hear the full power of
Idina's voice
The. Woman. Can. Belt.
And oh god, it's
Thrilling
The money note
It's just a D
Idina's got this
Let the storm rage OOOOOOON.
YES!
Nailed it.
- Published on
image from Billboard
Singing musical theatre
Is hard work
You are required to
Sing, act, and sometimes dance
All at the same time!
Belting
Sometimes referred to as
Controlled screaming
Requires technique.
Training. Breath.
Control of vocal chords
The diaphragm.
Being able to access
Every single body muscle
Whilst singing about
Love, loss, and dreams.
Movie musicals
Along with the Patti’s and Kristen’s and Bernadette’s
Have made it look effortless
And that’s the performer’s job
Right?
To make it look easy.
But the ease
Belies the effort it takes
To be. That. Good.
There is a theory
That belting changed
For women
With Lloyd-Webber’s
Evita
Before Evita, women were usually belting up to B’s and C’s
Think Don’t Rain on My Parade or Rose’s Turn or On My Own
Yes, the women could/can sing higher
But the money note sat right in a woman’s chest voice
Noboooody is gonna raaaaaaaain....
Etc.
Then Evita
And Patti. With a belt range from here to eternity
And the game changed.
Belts were written and sung up to E’s
Which sit higher in the voice
And now we have our Defying Gravity’s and Surabaya Santa’s and
Let It Go’s
And in the words of Jason Robert Brown,
Girls
Belting as hiiiiigh as they can.
Bette, Pink, and Idina
All performed iconic songs
At the Oscars last night
And in varying degrees,
Nailed it, hit it out of the ball park,
Or weren’t quite there.
Pink’s performance
Somewhere Over the Rainbow
The slightly husky voice
Capable of deliciously pleasing
Vocal gymnastics
The end of the first section
“Somewhere beyond the raaaain”
Rain, hitting the traditional money note
Bb
Satisfying to the ear
(And mighty satisfying to sing)
The chorus, one of the most well-known refrains,
Somewhere over the rainbow
Needs to be seamless
Smooth
The octave jump between
Some and where
One of those phrases that sounds easy
But try singing it
Without sliding
Keeping the where light
Remembering you’re singing about
Rainbows and dreams and lullabies...
Pop singing is less precise
Allows for riffing
And sliding between notes
And showing off.
Pop is about sound.
Musical theatre is about story-telling.
Pink sang
Someday I’ll wish upon a star
And wake up (breath) where the clouds are far
Be (breath) hiiiind me.
Twitter was ablaze
PHRASING!!!! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!
MUSICAL THEATRE 101!
DON’T BREATHE IN THE MIDDLE OF A WORD!
And I’m certain no self-respecting music director
Conducting one of the most iconic songs of the
Twentieth century
Would have gone through rehearsal and said
“Those breaths in the middle are totally cool.
Good job”.
The song ended on a satisfying
Ab
Rich, resonant
The chords underneath creating movement
Resolve.
A lovely performance, but too breathy
For musical theatre. Even a pop rendition of musical theatre.
Perhaps it was nerves
Perhaps it was the
“Oh-god-I’m-singing-THE-song-at-the-OSCARS-in-front-of-LIZA-FREAKING-MINELLI” adrenalin
Sometimes nerves just grab you by the throat
And no amount of rehearsal
Meditation
“I’ve got this” vibes
Will be controlled
Once you’re on that stage
There is no going back
The show must go on.
Then the In Memoriam
Wind Beneath My Wings and
Bette. Oh Bette.
How to sing musical theatre 101.
She walks out, cool as a cucumber
Takes her place
And starts singing.
Her face radiates calm
She is in control
She is telling a story -
Dear friends who have departed
I am singing this for you.
A quick sneaky little mid-phrase breath -
You always walked a step (breath) behind -
But her face remains calm
It’s about the song. Not about her singing the song.
She connects with the audience
She connects with the words, the text,
Thank god for you
Vocally
She sang the song in a lower key
From the original
Riffed down rather than up
Never belted higher than a B
Came straight off the top notes
But it was all about connection
Control, calm and
Breath
Finally, THE. BIG. NUMBER.
The most written about
Played, covered, and parodied
Record-breaking Disney tune
Since Part of Your World,
Let It Go
Sung by Adela Mazim. Oh Revolta.
The musical theatre community may never forgive you...
(I’ve done it myself. Fraught with nerves
In a presentation
I kept referring to my co-presenter, and good friend,
As Ethey, instead of Ethel
I didn’t even realize what I’d been saying until afterwards
When everyone asked
WTF?!
It’s mortifying)
So Idina.
The beltress who is
Maureen. Elphaba. Queen Elsa
Emerged amidst
Sparkling Swarovski crystals
She looked tense
You could almost read her inner monologue
Stay connected. BREATHE. I. Got. This.
And it made us nervous to watch
Oh god, she’s gonna crack...
But the notes kept coming
Clear and strong
And while it’s a song she has sung
Many times over
Unlike Bette, it’s not standard repertoire, yet.
She’s not had years to perfect the performance of it
It wasn’t about story-telling
Or being an ice queen liberated from the strictures of a patriarchal society.
It was about BIG NOTES.
AND BELTING.
You could see the relief in her eyes
Every time she nailed a big note
It’s an awesome song
It speaks to us
It’s empowering
It’s gutsy,
It builds and swells,
And right to the last phrase,
I held my breath...
She might actually nail it?!
Let the storm rage....
That last money note,
A bitch of an Eb
OOOOOON...
Her voice cracked.
Dammit!
Too forcefully hit
Too much tension.
I pity the woman
Who’ll play Elsa on Broadway.
Eight times a week of
Let It Go is going to wreak some sort of damage.
In one night
Pink, Idina, and Bette, showed us that
Belting is hard work.
Even for highly regarded
Pop stars and Broadway veterans known
For their belting prowess
(Except for Patti. Nothing seems hard for Patti. Watch this and you’ll understand what I mean).
Somewhere beyond the excitement
Of the big belt
Perhaps we need to return
To story-telling
Where the music serves the story
Rather than “controlled screams”
Of terrifying heights
Dominating our minds and vocal chords
And for the belt
Learn to
Let it go
Read about Idina Menzel's completely different performance the next day!
Is hard work
You are required to
Sing, act, and sometimes dance
All at the same time!
Belting
Sometimes referred to as
Controlled screaming
Requires technique.
Training. Breath.
Control of vocal chords
The diaphragm.
Being able to access
Every single body muscle
Whilst singing about
Love, loss, and dreams.
Movie musicals
Along with the Patti’s and Kristen’s and Bernadette’s
Have made it look effortless
And that’s the performer’s job
Right?
To make it look easy.
But the ease
Belies the effort it takes
To be. That. Good.
There is a theory
That belting changed
For women
With Lloyd-Webber’s
Evita
Before Evita, women were usually belting up to B’s and C’s
Think Don’t Rain on My Parade or Rose’s Turn or On My Own
Yes, the women could/can sing higher
But the money note sat right in a woman’s chest voice
Noboooody is gonna raaaaaaaain....
Etc.
Then Evita
And Patti. With a belt range from here to eternity
And the game changed.
Belts were written and sung up to E’s
Which sit higher in the voice
And now we have our Defying Gravity’s and Surabaya Santa’s and
Let It Go’s
And in the words of Jason Robert Brown,
Girls
Belting as hiiiiigh as they can.
Bette, Pink, and Idina
All performed iconic songs
At the Oscars last night
And in varying degrees,
Nailed it, hit it out of the ball park,
Or weren’t quite there.
Pink’s performance
Somewhere Over the Rainbow
The slightly husky voice
Capable of deliciously pleasing
Vocal gymnastics
The end of the first section
“Somewhere beyond the raaaain”
Rain, hitting the traditional money note
Bb
Satisfying to the ear
(And mighty satisfying to sing)
The chorus, one of the most well-known refrains,
Somewhere over the rainbow
Needs to be seamless
Smooth
The octave jump between
Some and where
One of those phrases that sounds easy
But try singing it
Without sliding
Keeping the where light
Remembering you’re singing about
Rainbows and dreams and lullabies...
Pop singing is less precise
Allows for riffing
And sliding between notes
And showing off.
Pop is about sound.
Musical theatre is about story-telling.
Pink sang
Someday I’ll wish upon a star
And wake up (breath) where the clouds are far
Be (breath) hiiiind me.
Twitter was ablaze
PHRASING!!!! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!
MUSICAL THEATRE 101!
DON’T BREATHE IN THE MIDDLE OF A WORD!
And I’m certain no self-respecting music director
Conducting one of the most iconic songs of the
Twentieth century
Would have gone through rehearsal and said
“Those breaths in the middle are totally cool.
Good job”.
The song ended on a satisfying
Ab
Rich, resonant
The chords underneath creating movement
Resolve.
A lovely performance, but too breathy
For musical theatre. Even a pop rendition of musical theatre.
Perhaps it was nerves
Perhaps it was the
“Oh-god-I’m-singing-THE-song-at-the-OSCARS-in-front-of-LIZA-FREAKING-MINELLI” adrenalin
Sometimes nerves just grab you by the throat
And no amount of rehearsal
Meditation
“I’ve got this” vibes
Will be controlled
Once you’re on that stage
There is no going back
The show must go on.
Then the In Memoriam
Wind Beneath My Wings and
Bette. Oh Bette.
How to sing musical theatre 101.
She walks out, cool as a cucumber
Takes her place
And starts singing.
Her face radiates calm
She is in control
She is telling a story -
Dear friends who have departed
I am singing this for you.
A quick sneaky little mid-phrase breath -
You always walked a step (breath) behind -
But her face remains calm
It’s about the song. Not about her singing the song.
She connects with the audience
She connects with the words, the text,
Thank god for you
Vocally
She sang the song in a lower key
From the original
Riffed down rather than up
Never belted higher than a B
Came straight off the top notes
But it was all about connection
Control, calm and
Breath
Finally, THE. BIG. NUMBER.
The most written about
Played, covered, and parodied
Record-breaking Disney tune
Since Part of Your World,
Let It Go
Sung by Adela Mazim. Oh Revolta.
The musical theatre community may never forgive you...
(I’ve done it myself. Fraught with nerves
In a presentation
I kept referring to my co-presenter, and good friend,
As Ethey, instead of Ethel
I didn’t even realize what I’d been saying until afterwards
When everyone asked
WTF?!
It’s mortifying)
So Idina.
The beltress who is
Maureen. Elphaba. Queen Elsa
Emerged amidst
Sparkling Swarovski crystals
She looked tense
You could almost read her inner monologue
Stay connected. BREATHE. I. Got. This.
And it made us nervous to watch
Oh god, she’s gonna crack...
But the notes kept coming
Clear and strong
And while it’s a song she has sung
Many times over
Unlike Bette, it’s not standard repertoire, yet.
She’s not had years to perfect the performance of it
It wasn’t about story-telling
Or being an ice queen liberated from the strictures of a patriarchal society.
It was about BIG NOTES.
AND BELTING.
You could see the relief in her eyes
Every time she nailed a big note
It’s an awesome song
It speaks to us
It’s empowering
It’s gutsy,
It builds and swells,
And right to the last phrase,
I held my breath...
She might actually nail it?!
Let the storm rage....
That last money note,
A bitch of an Eb
OOOOOON...
Her voice cracked.
Dammit!
Too forcefully hit
Too much tension.
I pity the woman
Who’ll play Elsa on Broadway.
Eight times a week of
Let It Go is going to wreak some sort of damage.
In one night
Pink, Idina, and Bette, showed us that
Belting is hard work.
Even for highly regarded
Pop stars and Broadway veterans known
For their belting prowess
(Except for Patti. Nothing seems hard for Patti. Watch this and you’ll understand what I mean).
Somewhere beyond the excitement
Of the big belt
Perhaps we need to return
To story-telling
Where the music serves the story
Rather than “controlled screams”
Of terrifying heights
Dominating our minds and vocal chords
And for the belt
Learn to
Let it go
Read about Idina Menzel's completely different performance the next day!
- Published on
Remember a time
Before you’d ever even been to Broadway
New York was just a place
Across the ocean
Far away
It may as well have been the moon
And musicals were accessed via cast recordings
Played on CD (and cassette!)
Repeated so often you knew
Every inflection
Pause and intonation
And then you’re sitting in the
Lyric Theatre, London
And Trevor Ashley
Australian performer
Who taught musical theatre at State Music Camp
And performed at Schools Spec
Is performing his Liza show
He is brilliant
The camp and the sass and the deadpan humour
Meet moments of utter sincerity
That make a caricature of Liza
(Though the portrayal is so spot on
It's more real than play)
Human
You remember
State Music camp and
Being around other people who
Got it
You performed ‘Over the Moon’ from RENT
(Which you had learnt by heart
By listening to the recording
Over and over til you got it right
Moo)
(And your friend
Gave you your first standing ovation
Lept to his feet when you finished moo-ing)
It was thrilling to sit in chairs around the piano
Holding sheets of music
And singing the songs
You had listened to
And already knew by heart
And all that jazz
And you remember all your teachers
Mrs Harrison and Mrs Ross
Mrs McAndrews
Mrs Stevenson, Miss Lorschy, Mrs Martinotti, Mrs Turner
Mr Harrison, Miss Boyle, Miss Richards (theatre etiquette!), Miss Paris, Miss Simone, Mrs Page, Mrs Stewart, Mr Kelso, Mrs Miltiades, Mrs Miller, Mrs Cull
George, Andrew, Gina, Frank, Kane, Ste, Christine
The ones who believed in you and gave you a chance
And if you could tell your fifteen year old self
You get to do it!
You go to New York
Broadway is real
You study musical theatre in London
You live in a houseful of actors
You learn for real the phrase
“Starving actor”
It’s not just about hunger and being poor
You need to perform and write and play music and tell stories
And when you don’t
You get really depressed
And even though it’s hard
It’s incredible
There is no other life you can lead
The Tony Awards are real
You actually go, twice
Get all dressed up
And sit in the rafters
And watch your childhood heroes
Make their acceptance speeches
You see Idina Menzel in concert (twice)
You see her rehearsing!
You see Marvin Hamlisch conduct the London Symphony Orchestra
In a medley from A Chorus Line
You see Liza in concert
You see Trevor as Liza in concert
And it takes you back to 15 year old you
Who wants nothing more than
This life
And you say
Hold on
You’ll get here
The end.
Before you’d ever even been to Broadway
New York was just a place
Across the ocean
Far away
It may as well have been the moon
And musicals were accessed via cast recordings
Played on CD (and cassette!)
Repeated so often you knew
Every inflection
Pause and intonation
And then you’re sitting in the
Lyric Theatre, London
And Trevor Ashley
Australian performer
Who taught musical theatre at State Music Camp
And performed at Schools Spec
Is performing his Liza show
He is brilliant
The camp and the sass and the deadpan humour
Meet moments of utter sincerity
That make a caricature of Liza
(Though the portrayal is so spot on
It's more real than play)
Human
You remember
State Music camp and
Being around other people who
Got it
You performed ‘Over the Moon’ from RENT
(Which you had learnt by heart
By listening to the recording
Over and over til you got it right
Moo)
(And your friend
Gave you your first standing ovation
Lept to his feet when you finished moo-ing)
It was thrilling to sit in chairs around the piano
Holding sheets of music
And singing the songs
You had listened to
And already knew by heart
And all that jazz
And you remember all your teachers
Mrs Harrison and Mrs Ross
Mrs McAndrews
Mrs Stevenson, Miss Lorschy, Mrs Martinotti, Mrs Turner
Mr Harrison, Miss Boyle, Miss Richards (theatre etiquette!), Miss Paris, Miss Simone, Mrs Page, Mrs Stewart, Mr Kelso, Mrs Miltiades, Mrs Miller, Mrs Cull
George, Andrew, Gina, Frank, Kane, Ste, Christine
The ones who believed in you and gave you a chance
And if you could tell your fifteen year old self
You get to do it!
You go to New York
Broadway is real
You study musical theatre in London
You live in a houseful of actors
You learn for real the phrase
“Starving actor”
It’s not just about hunger and being poor
You need to perform and write and play music and tell stories
And when you don’t
You get really depressed
And even though it’s hard
It’s incredible
There is no other life you can lead
The Tony Awards are real
You actually go, twice
Get all dressed up
And sit in the rafters
And watch your childhood heroes
Make their acceptance speeches
You see Idina Menzel in concert (twice)
You see her rehearsing!
You see Marvin Hamlisch conduct the London Symphony Orchestra
In a medley from A Chorus Line
You see Liza in concert
You see Trevor as Liza in concert
And it takes you back to 15 year old you
Who wants nothing more than
This life
And you say
Hold on
You’ll get here
The end.
- Published on
I was at uni
And I was learning
And acting
And surrounded by amazing people
And I was so depressed
I was numb
I actually felt nothing
And I tortured myself
Literally and metaphorically
And kept asking
When will I ever be good enough
To do something amazing
And then I got to perform my own material
And I was like
Hey, I really like this
And then I got to travel the world
And my brain exploded with possibility
I was engaged
And we were gonna get married!
Everything was lovely!
We were in love!
And then we broke up
And I was miserable
And wondered when anything was ever going to stop feel like crying again
And I sat with my bestie at the markets
And said
"ARGH! What is next?!"
And the next day got an email about working in the theatre full-time, and getting an agent
And everything changed
(My bestie was lamenting that he would ever meet someone. Just over a year from that day, he was married).
And I got into drama school in London
And I packed my bags and moved to a whole other country
I got there
And was really broke
More broke than I'd ever been
I was living the dream
Of studying theatre in London
And I was miserable
My voice was shot
My self-esteem was invisble (again)
I couldn't get a job
And it got to the point
Where I had exactly one week's rent left in my savings
And that was it
And I won a scholarship
And I was able to stay
And then school was over
And I got to go back to camp
And I finally worked in the Music Shed
And taught voice
And realized I had a skill and a knack for teaching singing
And fell in love with it all over again
Back in London
I discovered what it was like
To be earning minimum wage
Less than the London living wage
And to work and work and work
And having nothing left
And you have to go back and do it all again
Because otherwise
Then you really have nothing
But sitting in offices around London
I'm getting paid to write my own material
And it feels wonderful
And liberating
I got to fall in love again
I got to work again, sometimes for what I felt I was worth
I'm going to perform my own material
We never know what's next
We have to do the work
And hope and pray
That it will work out
Sometimes it won't
But something else will come along
And it will be even better
Than what we could have hoped for
And if all else fails
Hide under the doona and watch cheesy Disney cartoons
Until you feel better
The end.
*And writing stuff like this reminds me that in my insanely privileged bubble... life ain't so bad. It may SEEM bad sometimes... but it's not so bad, you know?!
And I was learning
And acting
And surrounded by amazing people
And I was so depressed
I was numb
I actually felt nothing
And I tortured myself
Literally and metaphorically
And kept asking
When will I ever be good enough
To do something amazing
And then I got to perform my own material
And I was like
Hey, I really like this
And then I got to travel the world
And my brain exploded with possibility
I was engaged
And we were gonna get married!
Everything was lovely!
We were in love!
And then we broke up
And I was miserable
And wondered when anything was ever going to stop feel like crying again
And I sat with my bestie at the markets
And said
"ARGH! What is next?!"
And the next day got an email about working in the theatre full-time, and getting an agent
And everything changed
(My bestie was lamenting that he would ever meet someone. Just over a year from that day, he was married).
And I got into drama school in London
And I packed my bags and moved to a whole other country
I got there
And was really broke
More broke than I'd ever been
I was living the dream
Of studying theatre in London
And I was miserable
My voice was shot
My self-esteem was invisble (again)
I couldn't get a job
And it got to the point
Where I had exactly one week's rent left in my savings
And that was it
And I won a scholarship
And I was able to stay
And then school was over
And I got to go back to camp
And I finally worked in the Music Shed
And taught voice
And realized I had a skill and a knack for teaching singing
And fell in love with it all over again
Back in London
I discovered what it was like
To be earning minimum wage
Less than the London living wage
And to work and work and work
And having nothing left
And you have to go back and do it all again
Because otherwise
Then you really have nothing
But sitting in offices around London
I'm getting paid to write my own material
And it feels wonderful
And liberating
I got to fall in love again
I got to work again, sometimes for what I felt I was worth
I'm going to perform my own material
We never know what's next
We have to do the work
And hope and pray
That it will work out
Sometimes it won't
But something else will come along
And it will be even better
Than what we could have hoped for
And if all else fails
Hide under the doona and watch cheesy Disney cartoons
Until you feel better
The end.
*And writing stuff like this reminds me that in my insanely privileged bubble... life ain't so bad. It may SEEM bad sometimes... but it's not so bad, you know?!
- Published on
Oh, New York, New York!
In one year from today we will live together
You and I (and my love)
And we will eat delicious foods
And be a part of wonderful theatre
And walk down your myriad of streets
And travel in your subways
And marvel at your architecture
Just three short days this trip
Three shows - two Broadway, one off-
The remarkable talent to strut across the stage
Stories told through song and dance and music
The sort of irony
That each show I’ve seen this time around
Strongly references/is set in
The UK
Tomorrow I fly back across the Atlantic
But first,
Tonight, Matilda
To see a show I’ve seen
A hundred times before?
Literally
Over six months
In London
Eight shows a week
The routine of front of house
Bruce’s scene
Time to get ice creams for interval
Counting money and re-stocking ice creams
During Mr Wormwood’s song about telly
And the swings
Back inside in time for
Miss Honey to wander forlornly and to see
The acrobat and the escapologist!
Revolting children the cue to
Get out to the kiosk before the ensemble comes tearing out to change in the corridor
Ready to be Russians
When I grow up reprise
The cue to have the merch ready
For the outgoing
Tonight
I am just another patron
The thrill of being seated next to a friend
From the other side of the world
Six years since we have seen each other?
A total wonderful coincidence
The lights grow dim
The opening is slightly different
No school bell
The orchestrations are ever so slightly changed
A slightly longer beginning
The tempos are different
The opening seems slower
The parents’ singing more articulate
The chokey song
Definitely slower, perhaps even by half
The set and costumes are the same
With minor adjustments
The fabrics more shiny
More glitzy for Broadway
The wall of the Wormwood’s living room
A shiny green
The ducks seem bigger
Matilda’s bedspread, not just plain blue
It has texture
Some costume pieces are lined with glittering sequins
The school desks are imprinted with letters on the inside
The chalkboard is enormous
The English accents are excellent
The show translates well
The laughs are big
The audience is very receptive
And yet at interval
I’m shocked to discover the people around me are lost
Two patrons ask me what is going on
They can’t understand it
I can’t understand them
In the second half the man across the aisle is bored and reading messages on his phone
I want to punch him in the face
At the end of the show
Standing at the stage door
I meet an aspiring actor
He is 17
He is auditioning for 19 drama schools in the fall
He has no idea what he is in for
(Maybe, MAYBE, I should take everything I’ve learnt, and, and put it in a show!)
The fact that he has 19 drama schools available to him to audition for makes me laugh
Back in my day
Where I come from
We only had three drama schools to audition for
And only two had a musical theatre program
I love being in New York
I love walking through Times Square
It is everything I’m against
With it’s blatant commercialism
And wasteful energy consumption
And tourist-filled seediness
And lack of trees
And yet I love the damn place
I love seeing shows here
I love the quintessential New York smell that is hot pretzels and air conditioning vents and hot concrete and subway all mingled together
I love the multitudes of people
(And another hundred people just got off of the train)
Who come from EVERYWHERE to be
HERE
I love that the Bronx is up
And the Battery’s down
I love that there are a million songs about New York
That get stuck in my head as I walk its streets
And they capture perfectly how I feel about the place
(Oooooh, New York! Living in a town that is famous as a place of movie scenes...)
I love the people I can meet here
I love the pulse/vibe/energy
It is always alive
Never for a moment quiet or resting
New York, New York
It won’t be long now
The end.
In one year from today we will live together
You and I (and my love)
And we will eat delicious foods
And be a part of wonderful theatre
And walk down your myriad of streets
And travel in your subways
And marvel at your architecture
Just three short days this trip
Three shows - two Broadway, one off-
The remarkable talent to strut across the stage
Stories told through song and dance and music
The sort of irony
That each show I’ve seen this time around
Strongly references/is set in
The UK
Tomorrow I fly back across the Atlantic
But first,
Tonight, Matilda
To see a show I’ve seen
A hundred times before?
Literally
Over six months
In London
Eight shows a week
The routine of front of house
Bruce’s scene
Time to get ice creams for interval
Counting money and re-stocking ice creams
During Mr Wormwood’s song about telly
And the swings
Back inside in time for
Miss Honey to wander forlornly and to see
The acrobat and the escapologist!
Revolting children the cue to
Get out to the kiosk before the ensemble comes tearing out to change in the corridor
Ready to be Russians
When I grow up reprise
The cue to have the merch ready
For the outgoing
Tonight
I am just another patron
The thrill of being seated next to a friend
From the other side of the world
Six years since we have seen each other?
A total wonderful coincidence
The lights grow dim
The opening is slightly different
No school bell
The orchestrations are ever so slightly changed
A slightly longer beginning
The tempos are different
The opening seems slower
The parents’ singing more articulate
The chokey song
Definitely slower, perhaps even by half
The set and costumes are the same
With minor adjustments
The fabrics more shiny
More glitzy for Broadway
The wall of the Wormwood’s living room
A shiny green
The ducks seem bigger
Matilda’s bedspread, not just plain blue
It has texture
Some costume pieces are lined with glittering sequins
The school desks are imprinted with letters on the inside
The chalkboard is enormous
The English accents are excellent
The show translates well
The laughs are big
The audience is very receptive
And yet at interval
I’m shocked to discover the people around me are lost
Two patrons ask me what is going on
They can’t understand it
I can’t understand them
In the second half the man across the aisle is bored and reading messages on his phone
I want to punch him in the face
At the end of the show
Standing at the stage door
I meet an aspiring actor
He is 17
He is auditioning for 19 drama schools in the fall
He has no idea what he is in for
(Maybe, MAYBE, I should take everything I’ve learnt, and, and put it in a show!)
The fact that he has 19 drama schools available to him to audition for makes me laugh
Back in my day
Where I come from
We only had three drama schools to audition for
And only two had a musical theatre program
I love being in New York
I love walking through Times Square
It is everything I’m against
With it’s blatant commercialism
And wasteful energy consumption
And tourist-filled seediness
And lack of trees
And yet I love the damn place
I love seeing shows here
I love the quintessential New York smell that is hot pretzels and air conditioning vents and hot concrete and subway all mingled together
I love the multitudes of people
(And another hundred people just got off of the train)
Who come from EVERYWHERE to be
HERE
I love that the Bronx is up
And the Battery’s down
I love that there are a million songs about New York
That get stuck in my head as I walk its streets
And they capture perfectly how I feel about the place
(Oooooh, New York! Living in a town that is famous as a place of movie scenes...)
I love the people I can meet here
I love the pulse/vibe/energy
It is always alive
Never for a moment quiet or resting
New York, New York
It won’t be long now
The end.
- Published on
Perseid meteor shower
Opening night!
It’s opening niiiiight!
Well, almost
It’s also closing night
Four weeks of rehearsal
Dancers drilled
Notes pounded
Lights programmed
Sets built
Programs designed
Characters hones
For one night of show
It’s also the end of the summer
Almost time to leave this happy place
My fifth summer in six years
Second working on the musicals
My “Buck’s Rock babies”
As I call “my” kids
Over the years
I’ve watched them grow
Turn from awkward unsure ducklings
Into confident swans who know that
At least, if only here,
In the middle of the Connecticut woods
They have a home
Where they are accepted for who they are
Where they can express their creative selves
Freely and safely
Without ridicule
My first summer
I looked at the long-time returners
And shook my head
How could they keep coming back
Year after year?
Set up their lives around 8 weeks of summer camp?
But I too have kept returning
The one year I didn’t, a
Miserable cold wet Sydney winter
I pined for my American Brigadoon
And I returned
And fell in love all over again
With the place
With the people
With my role in this community of artists
Walking home from a late night tech
Beneath open night skies
Falling stars
And a maze of meteors
Whose lines are only sometimes visible
I am home.
It’s opening niiiiight!
Well, almost
It’s also closing night
Four weeks of rehearsal
Dancers drilled
Notes pounded
Lights programmed
Sets built
Programs designed
Characters hones
For one night of show
It’s also the end of the summer
Almost time to leave this happy place
My fifth summer in six years
Second working on the musicals
My “Buck’s Rock babies”
As I call “my” kids
Over the years
I’ve watched them grow
Turn from awkward unsure ducklings
Into confident swans who know that
At least, if only here,
In the middle of the Connecticut woods
They have a home
Where they are accepted for who they are
Where they can express their creative selves
Freely and safely
Without ridicule
My first summer
I looked at the long-time returners
And shook my head
How could they keep coming back
Year after year?
Set up their lives around 8 weeks of summer camp?
But I too have kept returning
The one year I didn’t, a
Miserable cold wet Sydney winter
I pined for my American Brigadoon
And I returned
And fell in love all over again
With the place
With the people
With my role in this community of artists
Walking home from a late night tech
Beneath open night skies
Falling stars
And a maze of meteors
Whose lines are only sometimes visible
I am home.