crusty

My voice has officially packed up on me. There's nothing left of it. It turns out that too much coughing and too much singing on a ragged throat makes your voice sound like Crusty the Clown!

I spent the day looking for work. I wrote to a million artistic directors and looked at a thousand jobs on the Guardian website, whilst juggling all sorts of other tasks, like prepping scores for the Man In The Straw Hat and chiseling away at A Symphony for Yorkshire, which I decided today was absolute bullshit! I even got my 'cello out of its case for five minutes and had a little scrape. It genuinely sounded like I was sawing wood. In fact, my 'cello sounded like my voice does this evening!

I was appalled at how many jobs in the Arts and Heritage section of the Guardian were for fundraising posts. They've got all sorts of fancy titles, but, based on what I saw today, it would seem that the only people who are actually getting paid good money in my industry are those who are fleecing money out of others to pay themselves! I'm astonished by how much money fundraisers in the arts are earning compared to the artists themselves. There's something extraordinarily messed up about that!

This evening I rehearsed the Fleet Singers again. We had a sectional with the tenors and bases and then a full rehearsal. I was particularly pleased with the altos. What a difference a week makes. Perhaps a few of them read this blog last week when I said I was a little disappointed with them, but I got the distinct impression that some of them had gone away and done their homework. When I was conducting, quite a number of them were staring up at me with big grins which told me they knew exactly what they were doing... or at least that they had the confidence to blag! Giving good face is the first rule of performance.