Walking two paths doesn't always work

As I'm sure you know by now, I have a 'real' job, and I enjoy it. I love the stability, the financial security and the knowledge of exactly where I need to be and what I need to do the next day. While the office I work in is particularly unique, it has been an eye-opening experience for me. When I was younger, I always swore that I could never work a 9-5 regular job, that I would always have to live on different time table and spend time with what I call 'Wednesday People', those who don't have anywhere to be except the coffee shop on a Wednesday at 3pm. I wanted to spend my time singing, and rehearsing and teaching and that was all.

Circumstances dictated that I take this real job in order to survive in my new country, and I am ever grateful for it. I think I would've gone running home to Canada if I hadn't found it. But now, after a year and a half of the corporate life, I can't help but to think that I've sold myself short. I'm a great singer, and should be singing/performing as much as possible.

I came to this conclusion on Tuesday night, when I went to see the symphony perform a new work by Robin Gibb of the BeeGees. It was not a very good concert, and deserving of a blog post of its own, but the thing that stood out to me was how bad the soloists were. I sat there cringing and all I could think was:

"if these people can sing for a living, then it should be easy for me!"

Of course, I know from experience that it is not easy for me, and I imagine it hasn't been easy for them either. After the concert, I went home and got to work looking for opportunities to start to sing again, my first action being to email a conductor I'd spoken to in the past about singing with the Chelsea Opera Chorus. They are an amateur chorus that performs lesser known operas in concert using professional soloists. I figure the best way in was through the chorus, to get to know them and show off my skills.

And this is where my two paths diverge.

The conductor e-mailed me back and was happy to invite me to come to rehearsal and sing for him, so long as I could commit to every rehearsal date scheduled. I was overflowing with excitement, until i read through the list of the rehearsal dates and realised that there was no way I would be able to get involved. Several of the dates fall at times that I already had commitments with my day job, things that I can not back out of and am being paid to do.

So here is my dilemma: How can I have my cake, and eat it too? How do I maintain the financial security and stability of having a 'real' job while continuing to feed my passion and move my music career forward? Is it impossible for the two world's to exist simultaneously? Will I ever get to be a Wednesday person again?

Show off!

Last night, I found a new pass time. Showing off. Now, as anyone would tell you, I'm pretty good at this already, being the Diva that I am, but last night my behaviour was encouraged and applauded. I found my niche.

When I came over to London, one of the things I new I really wanted to do was find a piano bar where I could bring tunes a sing. I'd been researching, unsuccessfully for some time, and had almost given up, when a new colleague of mine introduced me to an actors notice board. And right there it was: Show Off Piano Bar. A bi-weekly night of musical theatre aficionados, strutting their stuff on the 'boards' of a central London pub. Anyone is welcome and there was am evening of it last night.

I grabbed one of my closest friends for some morale support, and heading into the City for a night a music. I had no idea what to expect, and when we arrived, I almost turned and ran, but my friend forced me to walk through the door. Underneath a little restaurant right behind the Leicester Square tube station, there is a tiny little bar. There was a smattering of people and a nice, upright piano right in front of the door. My friend and I went in, grabbed a bottle of wine and settled ourselves down at table in the corner, with a good view of the 'stage' as well as the exit. When the woman came round with the sign up sheet, I quickly scribbled my name and song choice down, imagining that it was like a band aid that needed to be ripped off...just get it done and then its done, right?

As we settled in with our wine and a bit of chat we were able to take in our surroundings and quickly realized that the room was swarming with really good looking men. My friend started to let her hopes get up before I reminded her where exactly we were and pointed out that despite our very substantial beauty, not a single one of them was looking our way, except to compliment me on my dress.

But then the music began. A lovely young woman in a long, sequined dress grabbed the microphone and sang 3 wonderful songs. She was very good, and I was happy that she was our host, and not one of my fellow open-mic-ers. She gave us a bit of witty banter, and then opened the floor to the singers of the evening. And what great singers they were! Not everyone was perfect, but everyone without exception, came ready to sing their hearts out. By the time it was my turn to get up on stage, I was almost jumping out of my seat to have a go. I had chosen to sing the song SHY, from Once Upon A Mattress. It went down a treat! The crowd was singing the chorus bits at the end, and I got so caught up in my little act that I grabbed a man's arm and spilt his glass of wine. But it didn't matter, I was back on stage and it felt amazing!

As my number finished, and I came back down to earth, the only thing I could think was: "I need to sing again!" So I quickly ran over to our hostess and signed up for a second song, The Alto's Lament.

When I my turn came around this next time, people were excited to hear me sing, and I'd made a few new friends and fans in the bar. I sang as if I were performing to a massive audience and by the time I was crawling on my knees at the end of the piece, the audience was in stitches. I got a rousing ovation and several people asked me to please come back next time. It was unreal.

I wasn't the best singer there, (though I was close) but I was reminded what a great performer I really am. I will definitely be showing off more often... there's another piano bar on Tuesdays I'll likely be trying out.

Guerrilla therapy

This week I was invited to a House Concert. I had no idea what to expect, but thought that I would go along, as I am always up for a new experience. What I got was an evening I won't soon forget.

We arrived at the venue, which was someones flat in a converted church, to a house full of strangers. We all new the organizers in some way but were from different parts of their lives. The upstairs of the flat was a loft room, with the old wood work from the church still in tact, and it had been set up like a little concert venue. There were 30 of us there and after a bit of small talk, the concert began.

Our entertainment for the evening was Francis Dunnery and Dorie Jackson. Now, I didn't know who they were, but I do now. The format was simple, a man and his guitar, telling stories and playing songs, with a lady to harmonize and support. But what fantastic musicians and story tellers they were. It was a bit like a vocal mask, with folk songs interspersed, and it took me back to my college days.

The story he told was of his life, and all the 'phases' or 'passages' he's gone through. From being a kid to being a rock star and then falling from grace. He talked about being 'Francis Dunnery the guitar player from It Bites' and then about how he wasn't that anymore, and didn't know where to turn. He keenly linked beautiful folk music with interesting stories to make for a great night.

So why guerrilla therapy? well, the 30 of us sat in that loft and shared a beautiful experience. Because it was such an intimate concert, Francis would talk directly to people, ask them questions about their lives and then offer words of wisdom on the subjects. He explained how we would all go through certain phases, and how we would come out wiser on the other side. We talked about lost parents, and mid life crisis and about running away. Each member of the audience found something to connect to, some moment in the concert that spoke directly to them.

Afterwards, we all talked about how we were pretty sure our hosts had hand-pick the people they felt would need this type of session the most. Maybe the people who wouldn't admit that there was something bothering them, or that they were going through some sort of crisis.

It was quite an incredible evening.

Newcastle's surprise

Last weekend was the birthday of a couple of my friends, and to celebrate, we headed up to Newcastle, in the North, for a weekend of sight-seeing, eating and partying. Our group was 20 strong and we traveled up via train Friday after work, filled with energy and excitement. On Friday night, a smaller group of us went out for a few drinks and some dancing while the others went of to visit other friends they had in the area. The six of us that stayed together had a riot of a time, and properly enjoyed our first night in Newcastle.

Saturday, we re-convened for brunch and then the boys took off to watch the rugby in the pub and us ladies went out to explore the town. Despite being a party destination, Newcastle is actually quite a lovely place. The Tyne river runs through the city and provides some nice areas to walk along the quay. We wandered past very old buildings just beside brand new modern ones and stopped for tea at a nice restaurant just beside the Millennium bridge. It was a great way to spend an afternoon. After our little tea, we headed back to the hotel for power naps and then to get ready for our big night out.

Now, before leaving London, I'd been given strict instructions about what one should wear when going out in Newcastle:
1. a very short skirt
2. lots of cleavage is also good
3. no nylons
4. no jacket
5. very high heels
6. big hair
Baring in mind that it's February, and the North of England is not a warm place, I assumed that instructions 3 and 4 were reserved for the summer months, and that 1 and 2 were mutually exclusive, that i was meant to choose on or the other. Since number 6 isn't really a possibility for me, I decided to disregard all advice and dress comfortably and classy, as did my other London friends. Boy did we stand out! The women in Newcastle must be super human in there ability to head outside in minus 7 degrees practically naked and not freeze. The skirts barely covered girls bums and their shoes looked like broken ankles waiting to happen. It was amazing. Luckily for us, there is strength in numbers, so a group of well dressed, jacket wearing, warm London ladies headed out to meet the boys for dinner.

We went to a great tapas restaurant, which was pack full with people having their pre-party dinner. We order loads of food to share and plenty of wine to go around and had a fantastic time, all 20 of us. At the end of the meal, one of the boys grabbed a candle and started singing Happy Birthday to our two birthday girls. We all joined in and had a good laugh. That's when the fun began. Another guy we were with pointed to our Welsh friend and said 'this time, in Welsh!' and the group was led in a Welsh rendition of the famous birthday song. Once the Welsh round was over, the Welshman pointed to our Kiwi friend and said 'this time in Maori!' and once again we all broke out in song, led by our New Zealander friend, who happened to be sat next to me...

And it was my turn next. The Kiwi looked at me and said 'this time, in Opera!'. Oh god. I hesitated for just a moment, but then decided, why not? And burst into 'Tanti Aguri' in my full operatic voice.

Apparently, no one in Newcastle has ever heard an opera singer before. Up until that point, we'd been successfully annoying our neighbouring tables, and they were trying the best to drown out our noise. When I started singing, the restaurant was at a stand still. Every table stopped eating and turned to see who was making all that racket. People at the back of the room were standing up to see where the music was coming from, and my friends were snickering with delight.
When the song finished, the room erupted with cheers. Geordie boys were whooping and everyone was just a little bit stunned. It was incredible. I've never felt cooler to be a trained opera singer then I was that night. My friends couldn't stop talking about how amazing I was and loved how much attention we all got as a result. It was a real win for me, and likely something the will take Newcastle some time to forget.

She rocks the office

Tonight I was a rock star. Absolutely.

My company has a band. They are fairly decent and they play at all the company events. Ever since I've been with the business, people have been asking me about when I would join the band, and up until tonight, I've been dodging the question, claiming to be too busy and that the don't sing the same style as I. The real truth is that I'm a diva. I've wanted to sing, but I want to be the lead singer, I don't want to sing back up! And I want, at the very least, to be asked by the band to join, to bestow them with my superior vocal talents. What an idiot. I let my ego get in the way of my having fun and singing.

But today was my moment. One of their singers bailed last minute and I got to save the day. The band was meant to play at 8pm, and at 5:30pm they got the call that they would be a man down. I happened to be in the room, helping to set up for the party, and the band leader saw me and said: "Janel, can you sing 'I Will Survive'?" Of course I can! but I hesitated, until my boss looked at me and said "Just do it"

So I stood up and said yes, as long as I got one run-thru. We did a quick run of the piece, and I knew most of the words and that was it, I became the guest soloist for the evening. And boy was it fun! It was incredible to be up in front of all of my friends and colleagues singing a fun song and getting them all to dance. I wasn't perfect, but it was the best karaoke I've ever sung.

There will be more guest performances in the future for certain.

Masterclass

I've just come in from a night at the theatre. A powerful night. I've been to see Masterclass; a play that takes the form of one of Maria Callas' famous masterclasses in New York. Tyne Daly, of Cagney and Lacey fame, was La Divina, and it was a great piece of theatre. Watching Callas work with the young singers, as well as re-live her own glories and failures brought me to a very familiar place. Sat in the stalls, I was in her class, struggling to be perfect for the terrifying Diva in front of me.

The first 'victim' as Callas joked, reminded me of myself so much it took me off guard. There I was, fairly new to the Opera repertoire, singing something out of my reach and nervous as anything. The soprano tonight even sang a piece from La Sonnambula that I have worked on, and struggled with, for some time. Before the girl could even sing one note, Callas had stopped her because she wasn't feeling the music...

**FLASHBACK**
Me, standing in front of my musical guru in the small studio above East Broadway being chastised about not breathing my emotion through the intro and showing what I was feeling in my physicality. I remember watching her in masterclasses show more passion in a 4 bar phrase than most of the students would in an entire aria. It was inspiring, and frightening and something I definitely need to do more often.
For Callas, it was all about the emotion, the story and the art. She made personal connections to the roles she played and gave everything to the audience. When one poor student had the misfortune of saying she was not and actor, just a singer, there was an audible breath throughout the audience as we all waited for Callas' seething reply. It was a very poignant moment.

Here are some things that Callas taught me tonight:
1. The artist gives everything to their audience, not just their voice, but their every emotion
2. Be in the world of the song, and imagine all the details that are left out of the score
3. Singing is hard, it requires many sacrifices, but the journey is worth it
4. Have a look. Something that makes people remember you and helps you stand out
5. Never miss and opportunity to theatricalize

Tonight's experience at the theatre was medicine for my soul. I have been out of the music world for too long. This last year, I have had an amazing time, with many challenges as well as victories, but I have lost sight of the music. I feel strongly that this needed to happen, as I had to take care of myself in other ways, but now its time to reconnect with my heart. Singing uplifts and energizes me. I am never happier, or in more pain, than when I sing, and I can't lock that up in a cupboard, forgotten and ignored. I am not Callas, and will likely never have her renown, but I can find my own path. I just need to listen to the music.

A year in review

It's been nearly a year since I last posted, sorry about that. I've been busy. Or lazy, depending on how you look at it. So I'm back. My challenge, is to get myself back into the habit of writing stories for anyone to read. I can't imagine that I still have followers, but if I still do: g'day mate! if not, then this is really just for me to enjoy and archive my activities.
So, 2011... a crazy year. Here are the Cole's notes, I'll get into details more slowly, but read on for the highlights.

In 2011, I got my first 'real' job. A job where I have a salary, rather than a wage or a lump sum, and where I have to show up everyday, 5 days a week. Talk about a life changing experience! Let's just say, it took me awhile to adjust to the grind. The job is with a well-known British smoothie company with a slightly unorthodox approach to business. The floors of our office are covered in AstroTurf, and there are bean bag chairs a plenty. There is a ping pong table in the middle of our break room and we dress up in power suits once a year, just for fun. I couldn't have fallen into a better job, and am I ever grateful that I did.

In 2011, I traveled. The year saw me visit Whales, where I jumped off waterfalls, Manchester, where I cheered on United for the win, Dorset, where I walked along 14km of beautiful beaches, Spain, where I learned to play checkers, Italy, where I found myself in the middle of a horse race, Switzerland, where I sang my heart out, and Canada (twice), where I became a sister-in-law and celebrated Christmas. I hope to travel even more this year, and I'm perfectly situated to do so. In the pipes already are Newcastle and Amsterdam. I will make sure to report on my travels for all to read.

In 2011, I became a German. Thanks to a small loophole in policy and a large amount of work done by my parents, I am now the proud owner of a German passport. I can now stay in London, or anywhere in Europe, for as long as I like. I celebrated my German citizenship day with bratwurst and sauerkraut at the office, along with oom-pa-pa music. It was a good day.

In 2011, I danced. I kept up the salsa that I'd started when I first moved here and also went out to a couple of clubs. I danced so hard one night, I rolled my ankle, and I'm still suffering from that accident now. Through dancing, I made some friends, even dated a couple people, and have had a lovely time. I'm sure there is more dancing to look forward to.

In 2011, I moved again. I have said goodbye to that naughty little girl and dropped myself into central London. It was definitely hard saying goodbye to my little family in Walthamstow, but now I'm in a lovely flat, walking distance from just about everything, even Hyde park. House hunting in London is arduous, and the cost of living is incredibly high. I looked at houses that didn't have floors in them yet, nor toilets that work. I looked at rooms smaller then the closet I left behind in Cochrane. The place I'm in now is up for sale, so I'll have to move again soon, and start the whole horrible house-hunting adventure again.

So there you have it; 2011 in a nutshell. It was a really good year, and I hope 2012 can be even better. Considering some of the things I'm looking forward to, I can imagine it will be great; the Olympics, a trip to Edinburgh, some opera auditions and maybe, just maybe, I'll meet a goat.