I can't even remember getting up this morning. It seems such a long time ago, probably because the day was split into so many little self-contained chunks which happened in different London locations.
I worked through the morning and then through lunch, mostly on our project for channel 4, which stretches out in front of me like a very short, but excessively deep river! By April it will have happened. The following week I go into rehearsals for Brass. My life is insane!
We went over to Abbie's this afternoon to record her singing demo tracks for the NYMT recalls. I was fairly astounded by how fast she picked the tunes up. There are some pretty complicated rhythms and a number of tricky intervals floating about within the three songs she sang, all of which she tackled fearlessly. She also seems to have fallen in love with Eliza's big ballad in Brass. It will be lovely to hear her perform it when she's had a chance to sing it into her voice.
From Abbie's it was back to Archie's offices in Tufnell Park where we had a three hour evening meeting, plotting the C4 film in terms of who needs to do what and by when.
And that was pretty much my day. Not very interesting for a reader, I'm afraid. I could lie and say I went to Blackpool and back to tap dance in the ballroom there, but hard graft never makes for good prose!
If only I could announce what I'm up to!
Saturday, 8 February 2014
Friday, 7 February 2014
Dividing the day into chunks
It's gonna be a long night I suspect... Nathan and I are trying to record learning files for the kids who are being recalled for Brass at the end of the month. It seems to be taking a ridiculous amount of time, which I could do without right now. Nathan recorded one vocal, with a rasp in his voice due to exhaustion and I recorded the other in the style of someone who'd never breathed in his life before!
We found out on Tuesday that the project we were working towards at Channel 4 has been green lit. Hurrah! Hurree! Harooo! I'm afraid until the project is announced officially, I'm not allowed to tell you anything more about it, but suffice to say it's incredibly exciting and will force both of us to work harder than perhaps we ever have before... I am now splitting my days into chunks which enable me to move forward on both Brass and the Channel 4 project. It's relentless, but it certainly worked okay today. I managed to write and orchestrate a two-minute song on the C4 project, prep half of the audition scores for Brass, and begin the process of orchestrating the opening number for Brass. The songs just keep appearing in the script... Just as you think you're nearing the end, another one crops up and whispers "remember me?"
At the same time I'm back on a weight loss programme, so until my metabolism settles I might be a bit grumpy!
This evening we went for a lovely dinner in Soho with the commissioning editor in charge of our new project at C4, Archie and our new project co-ordinator, Sean.
We found out on Tuesday that the project we were working towards at Channel 4 has been green lit. Hurrah! Hurree! Harooo! I'm afraid until the project is announced officially, I'm not allowed to tell you anything more about it, but suffice to say it's incredibly exciting and will force both of us to work harder than perhaps we ever have before... I am now splitting my days into chunks which enable me to move forward on both Brass and the Channel 4 project. It's relentless, but it certainly worked okay today. I managed to write and orchestrate a two-minute song on the C4 project, prep half of the audition scores for Brass, and begin the process of orchestrating the opening number for Brass. The songs just keep appearing in the script... Just as you think you're nearing the end, another one crops up and whispers "remember me?"
At the same time I'm back on a weight loss programme, so until my metabolism settles I might be a bit grumpy!
This evening we went for a lovely dinner in Soho with the commissioning editor in charge of our new project at C4, Archie and our new project co-ordinator, Sean.
Thursday, 6 February 2014
Wales
We're currently in the deepest, darkest, rainiest, twistiest country lanes on the border of Wales and England. We're doing a day of seeing family which started with lunch with the parents in Thaxted: for the record, two different soups, and a wonderful platter of breads and cheeses.
The drive to Wales was a nightmare. A terrible gale was blowing, which actually took our wing mirror clean off the side of the car, and the traffic was ghastly, particularly around Birmingham. It took us just over four hours to complete the journey. Still, when we arrived, Nathan's sister, Sam, had cooked us a wonderful meal and there was tea and cake and two friendly cats at Celia's. Mind you, the shock of having a wing mirror fly off a car on a motorway will live with me for some time!
It took us two hours to get back to Highgate from Chiswick last night, which was fairly unpleasant in the driving rain. We'd gone to Chiswick to see a show at Arts Ed drama school which was choreographed and MD'd by two men we have our eye on for similar roles on Brass. Frankly, I'd have booked them both on the spot. The standard of their work and creative vision was absolutely remarkable. The standard of the Arts Ed students was, furthermore, brilliant. That drama school is definitely one of THE places to study musical theatre at the moment, although I hear very good things about Urdang as well...
Our travel nightmare began upon reaching Turnham Green tube and discovering that the 48-hour tube workers' strike had already begun. They're sneaky little bastards, those tube workers. We're told normal services won't be resumed until midday on Friday, which by my calculation is a 66-hour strike. Longer than advertised. As a result, I find myself with little sympathy for them, whatever their cause. How easy it is to get what you want when you can bring a city's infrastructure to its knees in just two days. Oh, that the miners or the teachers in the 1980s had that sort of power.
I'm a great believer in the right to strike, but only if those doing the striking express themselves in the form of a picket line, or a visible demonstration which gives passers-by the opportunity to learn why they're striking. In the case of tube workers, it is unacceptable, in fact, unforgivable not to have made sure LU staff were present at tube stations to help worried people to plan alternative journeys home. The curious absence of any staff at Turnham Green makes me assume that staff simply slunk off early, either to the pub, or back home for an earlier tea than usual.
...So two busses it was for us, the first of which snaked its way through Kensington so slowly that if it weren't for the rain, I'd have leapt out and walked to Camden myself. My legs went entirely fizzy, all cooped up as they were on the upper deck!
The drive to Wales was a nightmare. A terrible gale was blowing, which actually took our wing mirror clean off the side of the car, and the traffic was ghastly, particularly around Birmingham. It took us just over four hours to complete the journey. Still, when we arrived, Nathan's sister, Sam, had cooked us a wonderful meal and there was tea and cake and two friendly cats at Celia's. Mind you, the shock of having a wing mirror fly off a car on a motorway will live with me for some time!
It took us two hours to get back to Highgate from Chiswick last night, which was fairly unpleasant in the driving rain. We'd gone to Chiswick to see a show at Arts Ed drama school which was choreographed and MD'd by two men we have our eye on for similar roles on Brass. Frankly, I'd have booked them both on the spot. The standard of their work and creative vision was absolutely remarkable. The standard of the Arts Ed students was, furthermore, brilliant. That drama school is definitely one of THE places to study musical theatre at the moment, although I hear very good things about Urdang as well...
Our travel nightmare began upon reaching Turnham Green tube and discovering that the 48-hour tube workers' strike had already begun. They're sneaky little bastards, those tube workers. We're told normal services won't be resumed until midday on Friday, which by my calculation is a 66-hour strike. Longer than advertised. As a result, I find myself with little sympathy for them, whatever their cause. How easy it is to get what you want when you can bring a city's infrastructure to its knees in just two days. Oh, that the miners or the teachers in the 1980s had that sort of power.
I'm a great believer in the right to strike, but only if those doing the striking express themselves in the form of a picket line, or a visible demonstration which gives passers-by the opportunity to learn why they're striking. In the case of tube workers, it is unacceptable, in fact, unforgivable not to have made sure LU staff were present at tube stations to help worried people to plan alternative journeys home. The curious absence of any staff at Turnham Green makes me assume that staff simply slunk off early, either to the pub, or back home for an earlier tea than usual.
...So two busses it was for us, the first of which snaked its way through Kensington so slowly that if it weren't for the rain, I'd have leapt out and walked to Camden myself. My legs went entirely fizzy, all cooped up as they were on the upper deck!
Tuesday, 4 February 2014
Thomas Britton
Fiona's mother, Barbara, sent me a card through the post today, with a newspaper clipping inside about a former resident of Higham Ferrers called Thomas Britton. Higham Ferrers is the Northamptonshire town in which I grew up in. It was famously the home of writer H E Bates and the birthplace of Archbishop Chichele, but as school children we were never taught about Thomas Britton, which, in the light of things, seems rather a shame.
There are apparently three portraits of Britten in the National Portrait gallery, which perhaps goes to show what an important figure he was. We're told he was born of "humble parentage" in Higham in 1644, and moved to London as a teenaged apprentice in the coal industry.
Some years later, he set up a business delivering charcoal from a wheel barrow, and must have made a small fortune, because, by the 1670s, he had rented his own rather large stable in which to keep his coal.
Britton was a huge fan of music and above the stable was a very large room which was only accessible by a rickety old ladder. The room became the key to his fame, because within it, the very first public music concerts in the UK were held.
The concerts improved in quality, until they became THE place for society figures to be seen. The great and the good performed there. Royalty attended. Even Dear Old Mr Pepys braved the dangerous ladder.
Britten wanted his concerts to be free, but later started charging 10 shillings a year (which I'm told is the modern equivalent to 50p) and he served coffee at one penny a dish. He set up a five-stop organ in the corner of the room which Handel played on several occasions.
The next most extraordinary thing about Thomas Britton was his death. A "friend" decided to play a practical joke on him, and hired a ventriloquist to sit in the audience of one of his concerts and throw his voice, like the voice of some sort of spirit, warning Britton of his imminent death. Britton was so frightened that he suffered apoplexy and died two days later of shock!
And if that isn't the synopsis for a brilliant screenplay, I don't know what is! Get there as soon as you can before I set it to music!
There are apparently three portraits of Britten in the National Portrait gallery, which perhaps goes to show what an important figure he was. We're told he was born of "humble parentage" in Higham in 1644, and moved to London as a teenaged apprentice in the coal industry.
Some years later, he set up a business delivering charcoal from a wheel barrow, and must have made a small fortune, because, by the 1670s, he had rented his own rather large stable in which to keep his coal.
Britton was a huge fan of music and above the stable was a very large room which was only accessible by a rickety old ladder. The room became the key to his fame, because within it, the very first public music concerts in the UK were held.
The concerts improved in quality, until they became THE place for society figures to be seen. The great and the good performed there. Royalty attended. Even Dear Old Mr Pepys braved the dangerous ladder.
Britten wanted his concerts to be free, but later started charging 10 shillings a year (which I'm told is the modern equivalent to 50p) and he served coffee at one penny a dish. He set up a five-stop organ in the corner of the room which Handel played on several occasions.
The next most extraordinary thing about Thomas Britton was his death. A "friend" decided to play a practical joke on him, and hired a ventriloquist to sit in the audience of one of his concerts and throw his voice, like the voice of some sort of spirit, warning Britton of his imminent death. Britton was so frightened that he suffered apoplexy and died two days later of shock!
And if that isn't the synopsis for a brilliant screenplay, I don't know what is! Get there as soon as you can before I set it to music!
Monday, 3 February 2014
Perplexus
I forgot to report the key event from yesterday which involved me, in front of all the kids, splitting my trousers so badly that I had to spend the rest of the day walking around with my hand clasped against my backside so that no one caught a glimpse of my polka dot spotted boxers shorts! The problem with linen is that it rips rather too easily, and I actually managed to tear the sodding things simply by sitting with my legs crossed and catching the fabric with the heal of my shoe as I repositioned my foot. Again, I do wonder why these things tend to exclusively happen to me. Perhaps I just fidget more than other people?
Today was Philippa's 40th birthday. I had osteopathy and lunch with Michelle of the Turkie before walking all the way through the City from Somerset House up to Columbia Road. It was a very pleasurable walk in the sunshine, considerably improved by a lovely chat with the parents and a series of texts from Fiona, who was with us last night and went to Paris today to record her string arrangements for a couple of pop songs. The concept of going to Paris for a day to record strings is impossibly glamorous and made even more so by her being in Serge Gainsbourg's old studio. Legendary. I want to go to Paris for a day's work! Actually, I can't complain. I just went to the Dominican Republic for a day's work!
We congregated at Philippa's house this evening; her mother, Kate, and a whole bunch of her favourite people. We ate curry and cake, told embarrassing stories and performed yoga moves on the sitting room floor until we couldn't breathe for laughing so much.
All Philippa's friends went in on a fancy handbag for a present which hadn't arrived, so Moira rather cruelly wrapped up a tiny little home-made thing created from pipe cleaners and a scrap of canvas in hundreds of layers of paper. As Philippa (who'd asked for a fancy handbag from her friends) unwrapped the parcel and it got smaller and smaller, her little face became more and more disappointed, until she realised we were pulling her leg!
Nathan has just released an astonishing pattern for a optical illusion double-knit scarf. I urge anyone who's interested in knitting as art, to take a look by going to:
www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/perplexus
Today was Philippa's 40th birthday. I had osteopathy and lunch with Michelle of the Turkie before walking all the way through the City from Somerset House up to Columbia Road. It was a very pleasurable walk in the sunshine, considerably improved by a lovely chat with the parents and a series of texts from Fiona, who was with us last night and went to Paris today to record her string arrangements for a couple of pop songs. The concept of going to Paris for a day to record strings is impossibly glamorous and made even more so by her being in Serge Gainsbourg's old studio. Legendary. I want to go to Paris for a day's work! Actually, I can't complain. I just went to the Dominican Republic for a day's work!
We congregated at Philippa's house this evening; her mother, Kate, and a whole bunch of her favourite people. We ate curry and cake, told embarrassing stories and performed yoga moves on the sitting room floor until we couldn't breathe for laughing so much.
All Philippa's friends went in on a fancy handbag for a present which hadn't arrived, so Moira rather cruelly wrapped up a tiny little home-made thing created from pipe cleaners and a scrap of canvas in hundreds of layers of paper. As Philippa (who'd asked for a fancy handbag from her friends) unwrapped the parcel and it got smaller and smaller, her little face became more and more disappointed, until she realised we were pulling her leg!
Nathan has just released an astonishing pattern for a optical illusion double-knit scarf. I urge anyone who's interested in knitting as art, to take a look by going to:
www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/perplexus
Sunday, 2 February 2014
Birmingham auditions
We've been in Birmingham all day today, auditioning for this summer's three NYMT shows. It felt a little like a proper homecoming for me. The train took us up through Northampton, Long Buckby, Rugby and Coventry - all places I know like the back of my hand - and I got really quite emotional when talking to the kids beforehand. I told them all the story of finding my Great Great Uncle William's grave within the Leeds Pals' cemetery at Serre, explained that he'd been part of the Warwickshire Regiment, and that I'd based a character in Brass called Wilfred on him. It's silly, really, but I wanted Wilfred to survive the war in Brass and return to Leeds, if for no other reason than to somehow address the anger I feel for his death... And the death of all the Pals.
I have written Wilfred as a Coventrian, but feel he may now have to be re-written as a Brummie - or, for that matter, from somewhere else entirely - as not a single kid walked through the door from Coventry, and only a few came from Warwickshire, and they were all girls. Bitterly disappointing.
I saw some remarkable singers however. I think I may have found my Tom and Lizzie today, to add to the Alf I found in Manchester, the Eliza in Bristol and all manner of Tots, Tats and Tittys in Leeds. And, yes, I have written a character called Titty, although it got me into all sorts of problems on the first day of auditions when I scrawled the word "Titty" on a 16 year-old girl's audition notes!
We also saw some brilliant musicians, including a young chap who played the cornet and trumpet with brilliant virtuosity, and a wonderful euphonium player.
The train journey back from Birmingham seemed to take no time at all and in all honesty, we couldn't wait to get out of New Street train station, which is in mega-disarray right now. In fact, the whole area between the station and the music college left a little to be desired. We ended up in some kind of concrete walkway called Paradise Walk, which, unlike its name, was shockingly grotty. There had obviously once been a water feature there, which was now just a stagnant pool of water. Birmingham surely deserves better. It's Britain's second city, for God's sake and I'm sick of the Midlands in this country being over-looked. I sincerely hope the disarray at the station, with its curious broken escalators leading nowhere, is a product of planned improvements, rather than a right royal Midlands shambles!
I have written Wilfred as a Coventrian, but feel he may now have to be re-written as a Brummie - or, for that matter, from somewhere else entirely - as not a single kid walked through the door from Coventry, and only a few came from Warwickshire, and they were all girls. Bitterly disappointing.
I saw some remarkable singers however. I think I may have found my Tom and Lizzie today, to add to the Alf I found in Manchester, the Eliza in Bristol and all manner of Tots, Tats and Tittys in Leeds. And, yes, I have written a character called Titty, although it got me into all sorts of problems on the first day of auditions when I scrawled the word "Titty" on a 16 year-old girl's audition notes!
We also saw some brilliant musicians, including a young chap who played the cornet and trumpet with brilliant virtuosity, and a wonderful euphonium player.
The train journey back from Birmingham seemed to take no time at all and in all honesty, we couldn't wait to get out of New Street train station, which is in mega-disarray right now. In fact, the whole area between the station and the music college left a little to be desired. We ended up in some kind of concrete walkway called Paradise Walk, which, unlike its name, was shockingly grotty. There had obviously once been a water feature there, which was now just a stagnant pool of water. Birmingham surely deserves better. It's Britain's second city, for God's sake and I'm sick of the Midlands in this country being over-looked. I sincerely hope the disarray at the station, with its curious broken escalators leading nowhere, is a product of planned improvements, rather than a right royal Midlands shambles!
Lun to Brum
I have been feeling a little odd all day; dizzy, swimmy, a bit head-achey. I think this must be that fabled thing called jet lag that seasoned travellers talk about.
I've been at Westminster Under School all day, auditioning 90 or so young people with the NYMT team. We saw them in groups of up to 30, which nearly made my head explode. We met some great people, however, some of whom were greatly talented. I recalled about 14 for Brass, which is a fairly high number by my standards. We were without our director, Sara Kestelman today, so I recalled a couple of kids I wasn't altogether sure about so that she could give me her professional opinion. She is, after all, the person who will be tasked with getting the best performances out of them. I have to say, it's so marvellous to have Sara on board with this project. It's Sara-bloomin-Kestelman after all, the Olivier-award-winning, grande dame of British theatre. How lucky does that make me?
We're off to Birmingham tomorrow to see what the Midlands has to offer in terms of talent. I shall be asking every single person where they're from in the hope someone says Northamptonshire or Warwickshire. There's a character in Brass who actually comes from Coventry, so I'd love to find a legit Coventrian to play him. Up the Midlands.
That said, auditions in Birmingham mean a very early start and the concept of 6am on a Sunday isn't exactly filling me with joy, so I better get myself off to bed. I shall sleep like the dead, no doubt.
I've been at Westminster Under School all day, auditioning 90 or so young people with the NYMT team. We saw them in groups of up to 30, which nearly made my head explode. We met some great people, however, some of whom were greatly talented. I recalled about 14 for Brass, which is a fairly high number by my standards. We were without our director, Sara Kestelman today, so I recalled a couple of kids I wasn't altogether sure about so that she could give me her professional opinion. She is, after all, the person who will be tasked with getting the best performances out of them. I have to say, it's so marvellous to have Sara on board with this project. It's Sara-bloomin-Kestelman after all, the Olivier-award-winning, grande dame of British theatre. How lucky does that make me?
We're off to Birmingham tomorrow to see what the Midlands has to offer in terms of talent. I shall be asking every single person where they're from in the hope someone says Northamptonshire or Warwickshire. There's a character in Brass who actually comes from Coventry, so I'd love to find a legit Coventrian to play him. Up the Midlands.
That said, auditions in Birmingham mean a very early start and the concept of 6am on a Sunday isn't exactly filling me with joy, so I better get myself off to bed. I shall sleep like the dead, no doubt.
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