I'm sitting in the kitchen of Helen's stunning house in Cambridge. I'm trying to make myself a cup of tea but can't work out if the thing I'm filling with water is a kettle or a fancy water filtering machine. I'm being watched by two delightful fluffy kittens, one of whom I'm going to put in my pocket when I leave.
Helen has done her house beautifully. Every room looks perfect. She's obviously incredibly proud of it, and I'm not at all surprised. It's in a stunning part of town and it's a really good house. I'm envious!
We came third in the quiz last night. The last round was a wipeout round, which meant if you submitted a wrong answer to any of the questions, you'd score zero. You could, however, opt not to put an answer at all, but for every question you got right, you'd get double points. Having ascertained that we weren't in the lead, we decided to go for the high risk strategy... And were wiped out! Which singer became the first American artist to be invited to sing a James Bond song? We put Louis Armstrong. The answer was Nancy Sinatra.
Had we played it safe, we'd have won the whole thing! There's a lesson in there somewhere...
From about 4pm, when Helen and I arrived in Thaxted, we did nothing but eat. Beautiful soup by the fireside in my parents' house, crisps and nibbles at the quiz, an almost inedible vegetarian chile in the interval and my own weight in chocolate which seemed to just fall into my mouth. I woke up with stomach gripes. Another valuable lesson learnt!
These few days away have done me a great deal of good. A bit of space away from the motet has made me realise quite how far towards madness, and let's face it, absolute dullness, I've been heading over the last couple if weeks. I'd be hugely surprised if anyone was still reading these dark, aggressive, self-indulgent entries.
All that changes today. The old Benjamin has returned.
Melt down aside, and with a couple of lie-ins under my belt, I'm finally in a place where I can acknowledge that we have already achieved the impossible with this work, and have it in us to rock the live performance. As evidence of this, and as an exclusive for all the readers of this blog who have journeyed with me over the past 300 days, I offer you Movement Four of The Pepys Motet: The Great Fire of London. Listen to it on headphones for the best sonic experience, but beware... It's hugely dynamic and gets very loud towards the middle! I'd love to know your thoughts, and look forward to hearing them...
Here it is
November 7th, 1660, and Pepys was summonsed by Sandwich, who seemed to want to crow (all be in in secrecy) about the fact that the King had offered him the whopping sum of £4000 a year for the rest of his life. I can't remember the rule of thumb for converting 17th Century money into today's figures, but frankly, if someone offered ME 4k a year for the rest of my life, I'd be pretty chuffed, so I'm sure Sandwich was thrilled! So thrilled, in fact, that the William Lawe song book and several violins were called for, and an afternoon was spent making sweet music. Joy!
Sunday, 7 November 2010
Saturday, 6 November 2010
The Porterhouse Blues
I'm in Cambridge in a Subway joint, waiting for my friend, Helen. We're going to a quiz in Thaxted tonight. Outside the window, a constant flow of bohemian people on bicycles is passing by. One was carrying a violin. Another had a basket filled with beautiful flowers. It's a genteel place, Cambridge, which, at the moment, smells of wood smoke; one of the aromas of my childhood. Sometimes I think this place might just be the only place I could live other than London. The idea of retiring to a little house by the Cam with a punt in the garden sometimes appeals to me more than words can say.
The headteacher of the school I visited yesterday is a man I've known since my early childhood. We once debated on a team together, hysterically against my father and best friend, Tammy. He is married to Catherine, a teacher of history who had a very profound impact on my life. She's the reason I went to York University and got me through some very dark times in my teenage years. It was, therefore, a wonderful privilege to spend time with her last night. She was on very good form.
350 years ago Pepys had the mother of all rows with Elizabeth, once again about their dog. Pepys in the past had threatened to throw said creature out of the window for pissing in the house and on this occasion was threatening to lock it in the cellar for defecating all over the place. Any threat of violence towards the dog was a red rag to a bull for Elizabeth, and the row obviously disturbed Pepys more than he was prepared to admit; "We went to bed and lay all night in a quarrel. This night I was troubled all night with a dream that my wife was dead, which made me that I slept ill all night
The headteacher of the school I visited yesterday is a man I've known since my early childhood. We once debated on a team together, hysterically against my father and best friend, Tammy. He is married to Catherine, a teacher of history who had a very profound impact on my life. She's the reason I went to York University and got me through some very dark times in my teenage years. It was, therefore, a wonderful privilege to spend time with her last night. She was on very good form.
350 years ago Pepys had the mother of all rows with Elizabeth, once again about their dog. Pepys in the past had threatened to throw said creature out of the window for pissing in the house and on this occasion was threatening to lock it in the cellar for defecating all over the place. Any threat of violence towards the dog was a red rag to a bull for Elizabeth, and the row obviously disturbed Pepys more than he was prepared to admit; "We went to bed and lay all night in a quarrel. This night I was troubled all night with a dream that my wife was dead, which made me that I slept ill all night
Friday, 5 November 2010
Wimden
Happy Birthday, Fiona!
I am in the deepest wiles of Norfolk in a town called Wymondham. Oddly, it's my second visit to this place this year. We came here in January to celebrate my close friend, Helen's, birthday an event which became one of the highlights of the year.
Today I've come to Wymondham College to discuss the idea of my writing a composition which celebrates the school; and what a fine school it is. I've just been given a tour by a group of charming sixth formers.
The drive here from Derby took me through the middle of Thetford Forest, which looked incredible; the deep greens and charcoal grey of evergreens stood out against the deep oranges, yellows, crimsons and golds of the trees who were shutting up shop for the winter.
Needless to mention that we didn't win an award last night; well, we did, but it was bronze. Our service station musical was up against packages about war and mental health, so winning was never an option!
The evening itself was great fun. I had three vodka and cranberry juices, which got me feeling very merry, and after the awards were done, we danced for hours to cheesy 1980s pop. The place was full of people from the BBC Regions who I've worked with on previous projects. The whole team was there from Yorkshire as well as Northants, Coventry and London. My next boss from Newcastle was also there, so we got to have a good natter about Metro The Musical. It was wonderful just to forget about Pepys for an evening.
Speaking of which, it's s Pepys double bill today as I didn't have the time to read what he was up to yesterday. November 4th, and Pepys went to Westminster Abbey and heard its organ playing for the first time. All organs were removed from churches by the puritans, so one can imagine the impact this instrument must have had on Pepys listening to it for the first time. I'm told, and I'm sure this can't be true, that in the 17th Century, the sound of a church organ was the third loudest sound man could produce after canon fire and blacksmith's furnaces!
We're also told how strangely beautiful Pepys felt Elizabeth was looking on that date, it being the first time she wore fashionable black patches on her face.
November the 5th, 1660, and Pepys spent the day doing Navy work. His entry for the evening appeals to me; "the 5th of November is observed exceeding well in the City; and at night great bonfires and fireworks." I don't know why I'm surprised that a) they were already celebrating the date by 1660 (I assume it was the first time it could happen since the end of the interregnum) but also that fireworks existed back then.
I am in the deepest wiles of Norfolk in a town called Wymondham. Oddly, it's my second visit to this place this year. We came here in January to celebrate my close friend, Helen's, birthday an event which became one of the highlights of the year.
Today I've come to Wymondham College to discuss the idea of my writing a composition which celebrates the school; and what a fine school it is. I've just been given a tour by a group of charming sixth formers.
The drive here from Derby took me through the middle of Thetford Forest, which looked incredible; the deep greens and charcoal grey of evergreens stood out against the deep oranges, yellows, crimsons and golds of the trees who were shutting up shop for the winter.
Needless to mention that we didn't win an award last night; well, we did, but it was bronze. Our service station musical was up against packages about war and mental health, so winning was never an option!
The evening itself was great fun. I had three vodka and cranberry juices, which got me feeling very merry, and after the awards were done, we danced for hours to cheesy 1980s pop. The place was full of people from the BBC Regions who I've worked with on previous projects. The whole team was there from Yorkshire as well as Northants, Coventry and London. My next boss from Newcastle was also there, so we got to have a good natter about Metro The Musical. It was wonderful just to forget about Pepys for an evening.
Speaking of which, it's s Pepys double bill today as I didn't have the time to read what he was up to yesterday. November 4th, and Pepys went to Westminster Abbey and heard its organ playing for the first time. All organs were removed from churches by the puritans, so one can imagine the impact this instrument must have had on Pepys listening to it for the first time. I'm told, and I'm sure this can't be true, that in the 17th Century, the sound of a church organ was the third loudest sound man could produce after canon fire and blacksmith's furnaces!
We're also told how strangely beautiful Pepys felt Elizabeth was looking on that date, it being the first time she wore fashionable black patches on her face.
November the 5th, 1660, and Pepys spent the day doing Navy work. His entry for the evening appeals to me; "the 5th of November is observed exceeding well in the City; and at night great bonfires and fireworks." I don't know why I'm surprised that a) they were already celebrating the date by 1660 (I assume it was the first time it could happen since the end of the interregnum) but also that fireworks existed back then.
Thursday, 4 November 2010
Traffic jam
Trying to get to Derby. Meant to be there in 40 mins but cruddy traffic means I'm still in London. Had email from conductor Jeremy today who says 50 % of our singers are either incapable or not well enough prepared to perform the motet live. Studio sessions continue but I am out of money and have no more sources of funds. I may well have to admit defeat for the first time in my life.
Off to Derby for the Gillard Awards. Watford Gap: The Musical has been nominated but I'm sure has no chance of winning. This was meant to be a really fun evening for me but I have no hope of arriving there in time. I now have half an hour to get to Derby and am still on the North Circular!
Listening to accounts of the engine explosion on the Qantas airbus. It sounds armingly similar to what happened to us as teenagers on a flight back from Canada, right down to the rather calm announcement made by the pilot. We'd been on an orchestra tour and had to make an emergency landing in Toronto after dumping all the fuel over the Great Lakes. We landed on foam with all sorts of emergency vehicles screaming down the runway behind us. It was terrifying but sadly we didn't get to take our high heels off and bomb down the emergency slides!
Off to Derby for the Gillard Awards. Watford Gap: The Musical has been nominated but I'm sure has no chance of winning. This was meant to be a really fun evening for me but I have no hope of arriving there in time. I now have half an hour to get to Derby and am still on the North Circular!
Listening to accounts of the engine explosion on the Qantas airbus. It sounds armingly similar to what happened to us as teenagers on a flight back from Canada, right down to the rather calm announcement made by the pilot. We'd been on an orchestra tour and had to make an emergency landing in Toronto after dumping all the fuel over the Great Lakes. We landed on foam with all sorts of emergency vehicles screaming down the runway behind us. It was terrifying but sadly we didn't get to take our high heels off and bomb down the emergency slides!
Wednesday, 3 November 2010
Ng Ng Patel de Cruz Lima Smith von Hausen
I’m currently in the recording studio mixing the motet. I think I’m going to spend this entire process wishing we’d had more time with the choirs to really finesse the work – or perhaps that we’d simply chosen two of the movements to work on and make them sound really special. It is an extremely complicated piece of writing, that’s for sure. I don’t know whether I should apologise for writing something this hard. I suppose you wouldn’t get Schonberg worrying about the practicalities of his performers playing 12 tone music.
It’s going to take much longer to mix the music than we’d initially thought, which means more money that I don’t have flying out of my bank account, but having heard Movement 4 shaping up today, I think it’s probably worth it. That said, if I lose my court case, I shall really be in trouble! At a certain point you just have to take a deep breath and assume things will be okay, for no other reason than that they always have been.
I’ve been having terrible problems with the London Mayor’s office over the past few weeks. I shouldn’t complain, because they’ve very generously offered to pay our conductor, Jeremy for the live performances. Unfortunately, for them to actually relinquish the funds they’ve promised, I’ve had to wade through a bewildering amount of red tape, which, like most things recently, has driven me to the point of madness. I’ve filled in countless forms and contracts, all of which have needed to be sent through the post, and most recently I was asked to fill in a 21 page online form, which is designed specifically for companies... and not individuals. Just logging in required four calls to an advice line and all of the questions I was required to answer were dripping with management jargon, which I think anyone would have struggled to understand. When I raised an eyebrow, the Mayor’s Office told me just to fill it in “as well as I could”. Now, I’m not an imbecile by any means, but the questionnaire had me absolutely stumped. After spending two hours trying to fathom what most of the questions meant, I sent an email to my contacts at the Mayor’s Office, which might give an indication of quite how ridiculous things had become. It went something like this:
“Dear Nateisha and Matthew,
What is a factoring company? What is an ethical procurement policy? And what is CIS? What is a commercial contact? The woman on the helpline told me this meant "commercial contact", which obviously didn't help a great deal...
Forgive me, but because I’m an individual and not a company, I’ve had to make up names for the people who are in charge of my "company's" ethical, green and harassment policies. These people are all figments of my imagination. I like to think they’re the people I would employ if I was a company. I don’t actually have a manager responsible for equal opportunities but if I did, I like to think he'd be called Ng Ng Patel de Cruz Lima Smith von Hausen.
I assume my organisation's parent company is my mother and father, so I’ve put that. And I hope you're okay for me to claim that it was founded in 1974, the year of my birth?
I’ve written that there are more than 10 shareholders in my company... For no other reason than that I felt it was a nice number.
I would love to know what my "position of workforce information" was. I know what all the words mean in isolation but together they make me feel hot-faced and sweaty palmed.
In the meantime, I shall print all 21 pages of this form off... but where do I send it?
I do hope you'll take a look at this system and introduce something that's a little less complicated and little more suitable for individuals... particularly those in the creative industry."
A few hours later I received a reply from Matthew, saying;
"I have spoken to the CSR team and they have updated your profile for you so it is now ready to be activated. The final step is that you submit your bank account details on company headed paper to their office..."
I’m not sure they’ve still quite understood the concept that that I’m not a company, and therefore that company headed note paper is not something that I can provide. I think my mother has little stickers with her name and address on them. Perhaps I can borrow one of them?
But I mustn't forget, that these people are giving the Pepys project some money and I am very grateful. It’s more than I ever got when Red Ken was in office. I do wish they'd learn to call it the Peeps Motet, however, rather than the Peppies motet and that when written down, it doesn't need an apostrophe after the y. All my contracts refer to the Pepy's Motet.
Midlake played incredibly well last night at the Roundhouse, and their support act, John Grant, had the most stunning voice. Unfortunately when we came out, there was a parking ticket on my windscreen. Apparently you can’t park on a single yellow line in some Camden streets until after 11pm (even when there's a tube strike) A license to print money, me thinks. There should be a law that brings in London-wide regulations on such things. I genuinely thought that yellow lines were up for grabs for anyone after 6.30pm.
Saturday 3rd of November 1660, and Pepys called in on Sandwich to find that he’d gone with his wife, Jemima to “kiss the hand” of the Queen. So, instead, he went to Westminster Hall and took his soon-to-be mistress Betty Lane for a drink. He made her very unhappy by telling her that her new sweetheart was “too good for her”, which strikes me as incredibly unkind particularly as he seemed to be amused by her rushing away in floods of tears... It’s amazing how unkind you can be to someone you fancy!
It’s going to take much longer to mix the music than we’d initially thought, which means more money that I don’t have flying out of my bank account, but having heard Movement 4 shaping up today, I think it’s probably worth it. That said, if I lose my court case, I shall really be in trouble! At a certain point you just have to take a deep breath and assume things will be okay, for no other reason than that they always have been.
I’ve been having terrible problems with the London Mayor’s office over the past few weeks. I shouldn’t complain, because they’ve very generously offered to pay our conductor, Jeremy for the live performances. Unfortunately, for them to actually relinquish the funds they’ve promised, I’ve had to wade through a bewildering amount of red tape, which, like most things recently, has driven me to the point of madness. I’ve filled in countless forms and contracts, all of which have needed to be sent through the post, and most recently I was asked to fill in a 21 page online form, which is designed specifically for companies... and not individuals. Just logging in required four calls to an advice line and all of the questions I was required to answer were dripping with management jargon, which I think anyone would have struggled to understand. When I raised an eyebrow, the Mayor’s Office told me just to fill it in “as well as I could”. Now, I’m not an imbecile by any means, but the questionnaire had me absolutely stumped. After spending two hours trying to fathom what most of the questions meant, I sent an email to my contacts at the Mayor’s Office, which might give an indication of quite how ridiculous things had become. It went something like this:
“Dear Nateisha and Matthew,
What is a factoring company? What is an ethical procurement policy? And what is CIS? What is a commercial contact? The woman on the helpline told me this meant "commercial contact", which obviously didn't help a great deal...
Forgive me, but because I’m an individual and not a company, I’ve had to make up names for the people who are in charge of my "company's" ethical, green and harassment policies. These people are all figments of my imagination. I like to think they’re the people I would employ if I was a company. I don’t actually have a manager responsible for equal opportunities but if I did, I like to think he'd be called Ng Ng Patel de Cruz Lima Smith von Hausen.
I assume my organisation's parent company is my mother and father, so I’ve put that. And I hope you're okay for me to claim that it was founded in 1974, the year of my birth?
I’ve written that there are more than 10 shareholders in my company... For no other reason than that I felt it was a nice number.
I would love to know what my "position of workforce information" was. I know what all the words mean in isolation but together they make me feel hot-faced and sweaty palmed.
In the meantime, I shall print all 21 pages of this form off... but where do I send it?
I do hope you'll take a look at this system and introduce something that's a little less complicated and little more suitable for individuals... particularly those in the creative industry."
A few hours later I received a reply from Matthew, saying;
"I have spoken to the CSR team and they have updated your profile for you so it is now ready to be activated. The final step is that you submit your bank account details on company headed paper to their office..."
I’m not sure they’ve still quite understood the concept that that I’m not a company, and therefore that company headed note paper is not something that I can provide. I think my mother has little stickers with her name and address on them. Perhaps I can borrow one of them?
But I mustn't forget, that these people are giving the Pepys project some money and I am very grateful. It’s more than I ever got when Red Ken was in office. I do wish they'd learn to call it the Peeps Motet, however, rather than the Peppies motet and that when written down, it doesn't need an apostrophe after the y. All my contracts refer to the Pepy's Motet.
Midlake played incredibly well last night at the Roundhouse, and their support act, John Grant, had the most stunning voice. Unfortunately when we came out, there was a parking ticket on my windscreen. Apparently you can’t park on a single yellow line in some Camden streets until after 11pm (even when there's a tube strike) A license to print money, me thinks. There should be a law that brings in London-wide regulations on such things. I genuinely thought that yellow lines were up for grabs for anyone after 6.30pm.
Saturday 3rd of November 1660, and Pepys called in on Sandwich to find that he’d gone with his wife, Jemima to “kiss the hand” of the Queen. So, instead, he went to Westminster Hall and took his soon-to-be mistress Betty Lane for a drink. He made her very unhappy by telling her that her new sweetheart was “too good for her”, which strikes me as incredibly unkind particularly as he seemed to be amused by her rushing away in floods of tears... It’s amazing how unkind you can be to someone you fancy!
Tuesday, 2 November 2010
Day off!
Today has been my first day off in ages and I spent it doing admin and housework. I then began the process of creating a master score for Oranges and Lemons with all the cuts and changes that went in when it was last performed. Tonight I'm off to see the band Midlake at the Roundhouse, which is an exciting prospect.
We had our final recording session for the motet last night in Cambridge and it was okay. We were working with the singers from Magdalene College who have wonderful voices; individually some of the strongest voices in the whole piece. I feel very privileged to have them as part of the project. Unfortunately they felt a little, either nervous or unprepared. Half way through the session I got slightly offended when I heard them discussing which of the movements they'd rather not record due to our running out of time and their having homes to go to. Obviously my initial response was to feel a great deal of guilt but it must be said that if a little more homework had been done, they wouldn't have taken precisely twice as long to record their music as any other choir!
In absolute fairness to them, I reckon they are within the top three choirs when it comes to sheer amount of musical material but I also got the impression that a fair amount of sight-reading was going on, frustrating because they're such damned fine singers who could have delivered a spotless performance. I still maintain they're going to end up being one of the star choirs in the live performance but they're going to need to do the legwork.
I suppose it was just that when home was mentioned, London suddenly felt like a very long drive away - particularly for Julian whose work-load has been ridiculous on this project.
On this date 350 years ago, the Queen arrived in town. Pepys found himself in Whitehall and was excited to report a river filled with little boats peopled by those who wanted to capture a glimpse of Charles I's widow. The banks of the Thames were also rammed, so it becomes surprising that Pepys opted to sum up his diary thus;
"So to bed. I observed this night very few bonfires in the City, not above three in all London, for the Queen’s coming; whereby I guess that (as I believed before) her coming do please but very few."
We had our final recording session for the motet last night in Cambridge and it was okay. We were working with the singers from Magdalene College who have wonderful voices; individually some of the strongest voices in the whole piece. I feel very privileged to have them as part of the project. Unfortunately they felt a little, either nervous or unprepared. Half way through the session I got slightly offended when I heard them discussing which of the movements they'd rather not record due to our running out of time and their having homes to go to. Obviously my initial response was to feel a great deal of guilt but it must be said that if a little more homework had been done, they wouldn't have taken precisely twice as long to record their music as any other choir!
In absolute fairness to them, I reckon they are within the top three choirs when it comes to sheer amount of musical material but I also got the impression that a fair amount of sight-reading was going on, frustrating because they're such damned fine singers who could have delivered a spotless performance. I still maintain they're going to end up being one of the star choirs in the live performance but they're going to need to do the legwork.
I suppose it was just that when home was mentioned, London suddenly felt like a very long drive away - particularly for Julian whose work-load has been ridiculous on this project.
On this date 350 years ago, the Queen arrived in town. Pepys found himself in Whitehall and was excited to report a river filled with little boats peopled by those who wanted to capture a glimpse of Charles I's widow. The banks of the Thames were also rammed, so it becomes surprising that Pepys opted to sum up his diary thus;
"So to bed. I observed this night very few bonfires in the City, not above three in all London, for the Queen’s coming; whereby I guess that (as I believed before) her coming do please but very few."
Monday, 1 November 2010
Bumps
So, this is a guest entry again. My second of the year. I should first explain why I'm standing in for Benjamin today.
He is somewhere on the M11, I suspect, driving back home from Cambridge with studio producer, Julian, after another exhausting day recording the Motet.
He started the day in Limehouse, the usual home of the recording sessions, indeed the home of most recording sessions of Benjamin's music over the past five or six years.
I was there myself, only yesterday, with the rest of the musical theatre choir, laying down our sections of the piece. I had high hopes for us. Having sat through many of the other sessions over the past few days, and seen how many people have seemed to think that they can just wing it when they get to the mic, then watching them fall apart, as they realise that that is just not feasible (not by any means everyone, but enough to send Benjamin to the brink of a nervous breakdown as hour by hour, time trickles past), and having myself done a lot of homework, and knowing the standard of the singers we had in our group, I thought it would be a breeze. Sadly, it was not to be, and we worked for a full extra hour after we were due to have finished, and I'm ashamed to say that some bits were still rather scrappy. I was, however, rather pleased, when I recorded one of my solo lines, and nailed it in one take. Benjamin made me do another, just because he wasn't happy with the concept of someone managing to get it right first time, but even he had to admit that I had! I felt proud.
Back to today, and he started out with the Navy boys. I only have sketchy details as to how it went, so I'll leave him to tell you about it. He was also joined at the studio by close friend Fiona, who mercifully was able to step in to record the most important lines that poor Nic has been unable to do. Apparently, she is still desperately ill, and pretty much bed-bound. Get well soon, Nic!
After this, he and Julian headed off in the car to Cambridge in order to work for a second session with the Magdalene College Choir, who had had such a trouble time last week. The last I heard, they were back in the car on their way home, but Benjamin assured me that there was no way he was going to make it back in time to write and post this blog, and so would I do it? So here I am.
It's been a bit of a weekend for me. Not only did I spend all of Sunday in the studio, Saturday for me was an epic jaunt up to Manchester, to do a surprise singing gig at a wedding. Now, I wouldn't normally desribe a little hop to Manchester as an epic jaunt, but on Saturday, that's exactly what it turned out to be. I was driving the three of us who were going to be singing up the M1, and we got snarled in a horrendous tailback. While waiting to move on, several fire engines screamed past us on the hard shoulder, so it was clear that something pretty awful had happened up ahead. When we got to the accident site, some 40 minutes later, the car involved was actually on its roof! I sent a silent prayer that everyone had got out safely, and we carried on our way.
Imagine my horror, then, when halfway up the M6, we found ourselves once again, stationary. I couldn't believe it. Another accident, another double lane closure, and this time it took us 45 minutes to travel precisely three miles. That's an average speed of 4mph! By this time there was no way we were going to get to Manchester in time to do a sound check, but luckily, we had the CD of backing tracks in the car with us, so were able to have a good sing song, and get our voices ready.
It got worse: when we eventually found the hotel, in Central Manchester, we were told that there was no car park, and that we'd have to go to an NCP job some way away. We were just getting later and later.
As suspected, there was no time to do any kind os soundcheck, as by the time we arrived, the wedding guests were already milling around, and the element of surprise would have been totally ruined if they has seen or heard us rehearsing. We were going to have to fly by the seats of our pants, and hope for the best.
As it turned out, they were a fantastic bunch of people to sing for, and we all thoroughly enjoyed the gig. We got a massive standing ovation at the end of Nessun Dorma, which always brings the house down, but this was something else! I absolutely love singing at weddings. There is always so much good feeling in the room, and people genuinely want to have a good time. These kinds of people are easy to entertain.
The trials of the day were nowhere near over though, as on the way home, a short section of the M56 had been closed for resurfacing, and we found ourselves on the most ridiculous diversion you can possibly imagine!
Now, I know road works are inconvenient at the best of times, but sometimes, the people who plan these things need shooting! Not only did the diversion take us miles back the way we had already come, towards Manchester, but we were taken so far from where we had started that I was scared we had gone wrong somewhere along the way. Nope! Every few miles, there would be a yellow sign by the side of the road, with a black arrow, and the word "Diversion" on it, assuring us that we were indeed going the way these planners intended us to. But I thought, "Hang on, this is the M62 to Leeds. This can't be right."
Suddenly, halfway along the M62, just at the point where I was sure I had missed a turn of some way back, there was one final sign, telling us, "Diversion Ends." Pardon my ignorance, and call me old fashioned, but surely, the point of a diversion is to take you around whatever obstruction has spawned the diversion in the first place, and deliver you safely back on your original route? This had done nothing of the sort. It was as if the planners had said to themselves, "Oh, let's just get them as far from Manchester as we can, then they wont be our problem any more!" Ridiculous.
So we continued all the way to Leeds, and came home down the M1. All in all, I was driving for about 9 hours on Saturday. Utter madness. I'd complain, but 1) who to? and 2) who'd care?
On this day 350 years ago, Samuel also did a lot of travelling. He and William Pen rode out early to William Batten's house, and were shown "many great rarities," including a chair, known as "king Harry's Chair," that when you sat on it, you could be constrained in it with irons. Some sort of torture chair I assume, but one that apparently, "makes good sport!"
They were joined over dinner by Samuel's old school chum, Mr Christmas. Sam was a bit concerned that he would remember some anti-royal statement that Sam himself had made as a boy, but apparently all was well, and Mr Christmas had left the school before the offending remark had been made. Phew! It's telling that he would be worried so long after the event, particularly in the light of his current status. No one, it seemed was above punishment for such things, and it must have made for a very uneasy life indeed, constantly afraid that your past slights might come back to haunt you in very real ways.
They rode home in the moonlight, "it being about 9 o'clock before we got home."
Thanks for reading. I hope I've kept the blog in good hands in Benjamin's absence. More from him tomorrow, and perhaps, more form me another time.
He is somewhere on the M11, I suspect, driving back home from Cambridge with studio producer, Julian, after another exhausting day recording the Motet.
He started the day in Limehouse, the usual home of the recording sessions, indeed the home of most recording sessions of Benjamin's music over the past five or six years.
I was there myself, only yesterday, with the rest of the musical theatre choir, laying down our sections of the piece. I had high hopes for us. Having sat through many of the other sessions over the past few days, and seen how many people have seemed to think that they can just wing it when they get to the mic, then watching them fall apart, as they realise that that is just not feasible (not by any means everyone, but enough to send Benjamin to the brink of a nervous breakdown as hour by hour, time trickles past), and having myself done a lot of homework, and knowing the standard of the singers we had in our group, I thought it would be a breeze. Sadly, it was not to be, and we worked for a full extra hour after we were due to have finished, and I'm ashamed to say that some bits were still rather scrappy. I was, however, rather pleased, when I recorded one of my solo lines, and nailed it in one take. Benjamin made me do another, just because he wasn't happy with the concept of someone managing to get it right first time, but even he had to admit that I had! I felt proud.
Back to today, and he started out with the Navy boys. I only have sketchy details as to how it went, so I'll leave him to tell you about it. He was also joined at the studio by close friend Fiona, who mercifully was able to step in to record the most important lines that poor Nic has been unable to do. Apparently, she is still desperately ill, and pretty much bed-bound. Get well soon, Nic!
After this, he and Julian headed off in the car to Cambridge in order to work for a second session with the Magdalene College Choir, who had had such a trouble time last week. The last I heard, they were back in the car on their way home, but Benjamin assured me that there was no way he was going to make it back in time to write and post this blog, and so would I do it? So here I am.
It's been a bit of a weekend for me. Not only did I spend all of Sunday in the studio, Saturday for me was an epic jaunt up to Manchester, to do a surprise singing gig at a wedding. Now, I wouldn't normally desribe a little hop to Manchester as an epic jaunt, but on Saturday, that's exactly what it turned out to be. I was driving the three of us who were going to be singing up the M1, and we got snarled in a horrendous tailback. While waiting to move on, several fire engines screamed past us on the hard shoulder, so it was clear that something pretty awful had happened up ahead. When we got to the accident site, some 40 minutes later, the car involved was actually on its roof! I sent a silent prayer that everyone had got out safely, and we carried on our way.
Imagine my horror, then, when halfway up the M6, we found ourselves once again, stationary. I couldn't believe it. Another accident, another double lane closure, and this time it took us 45 minutes to travel precisely three miles. That's an average speed of 4mph! By this time there was no way we were going to get to Manchester in time to do a sound check, but luckily, we had the CD of backing tracks in the car with us, so were able to have a good sing song, and get our voices ready.
It got worse: when we eventually found the hotel, in Central Manchester, we were told that there was no car park, and that we'd have to go to an NCP job some way away. We were just getting later and later.
As suspected, there was no time to do any kind os soundcheck, as by the time we arrived, the wedding guests were already milling around, and the element of surprise would have been totally ruined if they has seen or heard us rehearsing. We were going to have to fly by the seats of our pants, and hope for the best.
As it turned out, they were a fantastic bunch of people to sing for, and we all thoroughly enjoyed the gig. We got a massive standing ovation at the end of Nessun Dorma, which always brings the house down, but this was something else! I absolutely love singing at weddings. There is always so much good feeling in the room, and people genuinely want to have a good time. These kinds of people are easy to entertain.
The trials of the day were nowhere near over though, as on the way home, a short section of the M56 had been closed for resurfacing, and we found ourselves on the most ridiculous diversion you can possibly imagine!
Now, I know road works are inconvenient at the best of times, but sometimes, the people who plan these things need shooting! Not only did the diversion take us miles back the way we had already come, towards Manchester, but we were taken so far from where we had started that I was scared we had gone wrong somewhere along the way. Nope! Every few miles, there would be a yellow sign by the side of the road, with a black arrow, and the word "Diversion" on it, assuring us that we were indeed going the way these planners intended us to. But I thought, "Hang on, this is the M62 to Leeds. This can't be right."
Suddenly, halfway along the M62, just at the point where I was sure I had missed a turn of some way back, there was one final sign, telling us, "Diversion Ends." Pardon my ignorance, and call me old fashioned, but surely, the point of a diversion is to take you around whatever obstruction has spawned the diversion in the first place, and deliver you safely back on your original route? This had done nothing of the sort. It was as if the planners had said to themselves, "Oh, let's just get them as far from Manchester as we can, then they wont be our problem any more!" Ridiculous.
So we continued all the way to Leeds, and came home down the M1. All in all, I was driving for about 9 hours on Saturday. Utter madness. I'd complain, but 1) who to? and 2) who'd care?
On this day 350 years ago, Samuel also did a lot of travelling. He and William Pen rode out early to William Batten's house, and were shown "many great rarities," including a chair, known as "king Harry's Chair," that when you sat on it, you could be constrained in it with irons. Some sort of torture chair I assume, but one that apparently, "makes good sport!"
They were joined over dinner by Samuel's old school chum, Mr Christmas. Sam was a bit concerned that he would remember some anti-royal statement that Sam himself had made as a boy, but apparently all was well, and Mr Christmas had left the school before the offending remark had been made. Phew! It's telling that he would be worried so long after the event, particularly in the light of his current status. No one, it seemed was above punishment for such things, and it must have made for a very uneasy life indeed, constantly afraid that your past slights might come back to haunt you in very real ways.
They rode home in the moonlight, "it being about 9 o'clock before we got home."
Thanks for reading. I hope I've kept the blog in good hands in Benjamin's absence. More from him tomorrow, and perhaps, more form me another time.
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