Auctions

We were in the studio all day today recording first piano and then various vocals for our wedding film. It was a fairly exhausting, but ultimately rewarding experience. First up, Nathan's various nieces and nephews performed a line, and then Nathan's sister, Sam laid down vocals on top of the vocals brother Edward had put down yesterday. It was like Stevie Wonder and Paul McCartney doing Ebony and Ivory! Hearing the two of them singing in harmony was really sweet... Duetting via the wonders of technology!

Next up were our best men, Philip and Philippa. We learnt today that Philippa would rather be known as a best woman, which we really must try to adopt. It was so lovely to have everyone there together; best friends and family. A sure indication that there's a lot of good will for us and for the project in general.

I literally ran from Sonica Studios to Pall Mall to attend a charity gala meal for the NYMT, where, for the first time ever, a song from Brass was performed in public. It was performed by our Eliza, a stunning 17 year-old actress who threw herself into the performance hook, line and sinker. The hush in the room whilst she performed was extraordinary and I have a strong sense that, in five or ten years time, people who were fortunate enough to have been there will talk about the moment they first saw Laura Barnard.

I felt very proud to be introducing her to the audience, and also rather pleased to have a captive audience to whom I could wax lyrical about the importance of supporting new writers.

Dougal Irvine, a fellow composer, thanked me afterwards for what I'd said and, in his chat with the crowd, said, "I had this little speech prepared but Benjamin Till said it all so much more eloquently."

It struck me how nice it feels to be part of a set of composers who are trying to achieve the same thing. I've got so used to banging my own drum in obscure television films over the last few years that I'd adopted a rather isolationist stance. I'm rather enjoying the process of being integrated back into a society!

After the charity do I dashed across London to my old friend Matt's 40th birthday, which was in a penthouse in a London hotel. I remember his 30th birthday, and dancing round a maypole with Mel C. It does at least feel like rather a long time ago, so time hasn't started speeding up for me... At least not yet. It was also rather fun to tell him I'd been sitting next to the woman who'd won a chance to meet him in the auction earlier in the evening...

Anyhow. It's time for bed. I'm up first thing for a twelve hour session.

Why I'm getting married in a musical

So it would appear that the cat is out of the bag. The press are now, if not buzzing, gently vibrating with the news. What you may have read is probably true. Nathan and I are getting married in a musical film which is being screened on Channel 4. We're being very clear about the purpose of the film. This isn't a musical about our wedding, this is a musical celebration about the historical importance of March 29th; the first day gay men can legally marry in England and Wales.

Whilst we cheer, sing, dance and pat ourselves on our enlightened shoulders, it should never be forgotten that gay marriage is legal in considerably fewer than 20 countries across the world and that being gay - just BEING gay - is still completely illegal in 80 or more. This statistic ought to put things in perspective.

There are a number of misunderstandings about the gay marriage in the UK. Firstly, and for another few months, gay marriage remains illegal in Scotland. Secondly, there are no moves in Northern Ireland to change the law which currently prevents LGBT from getting married. Thirdly, because since the 2005 introduction of UK civil partnerships LGBT people have talked about "weddings," the majority of people in this country assume that gay marriage is already legal, and therefore that this new law means that gay men can now get married in British churches. They can't. Actually, as a point of fact, they can at the Swiss church in Covent Garden, but not in a Church of England church.

So what is new? Well, to put it simply, equality is new. Civil partnerships are not the same as marriage. Similar, but not quite the same and the same, but different is certainly not the same as equal. Straight people can't have civil partnerships, gay people can't get married. That's like saying it's okay to segregate black and white people; they both get to travel on buses, just not on the same ones!

So true legal equality is the victory we shall be celebrating in our wedding film. In the eyes of the law (though sadly not in the eyes of the church) LGBT people from England and Wales are now the same as everyone else.

It's the final piece in the jigsaw. At the same point utterly inconsequential and absolutely astonishing. The very last full stop in a series of battles for LGBT human rights which started God knows when and ends on March 29th.

That is why I am proud to be getting married on this day. And proud to be making a film about it.

But why a musical?

Well, readers of this blog will know that Nathan and I have 40 years combined experience in the professional worlds of music, film and theatre. As a composer, I use music to express my emotions. I pour emotion into the music I write and can think of no more perfect way to express my love and gratitude to Nathan than through song. Why on earth would I SAY vows when I can SING them? When I can accompany them with the chords and beats and suspensions which far more adequately express my love for a man who has been my rock for 12 years.

Nathan, as a musical theatre performer with a great respect and love for the art form, feels exactly the same way. Music has run through our relationship like the most perfect golden thread. I write a song. Nathan will be the first man to hear it. Nathan performs in a show or cabaret, and I will sit on the front row, engulfed and charmed by the beauty of his voice.

Of course it's a risk. Some people hate musicals and will think this is the most dreadful idea. But our lives have been typified by a series of calculated risks. We dare. Uncompromisingly. Some hate my work. Others think it's great. I suspect this will polarise people even more, but what can never be doubted is that it's coming from the right place, and that is a place of love. Genuine love for musical theatre. Genuine love for one another.

Need sleep

It's been a very tiring day.

I wish I could say more.

I can't!

Love to you all.

I'm getting married to Nathan by the way.

Benj

Chops

As I walked down the little hill path from Archway Road to the tube this morning, I found myself captivated by little drops of rain dangling from a metal fence. The sun was incredibly low, and the droplets of water had turned into a mini rainbow; each little crystal a discreet colour. The green one was by far the most vibrant. The greatest wordsmith would struggle to describe the colour. Like an emerald burning from within.

We've been recording drums and bass for the Channel 4 project all day today. Our drummer, a Newcastle lad called Martyn, used the phrase "gospel chops" to describe one of the numbers: "This song's a bit gospel chops isn't it?" What he meant was that the song had a bit of a gospel vibe which he wanted to bring out with his drumming. But it suddenly struck me what an unusual and versatile word "chops" is. Obviously it can mean mouth, as in "smacked in the chops"  but I'd personally be most likely to use it to mean experience. "Has he got telly chops?" ie, "does he know how to perform in front of a camera?" "Does she have the chops to sing Queen Of the Night?" "Has she got a top E?" But I might also use the word to compliment a really decent voice; "she's got a fine set of chops on her..." Maybe I over use the word because, as a vegetarian, I don't eat pork chops!

A rather lovely thing happened in the studio today. Julian's assistant, Josh, whom I found out yesterday is another music graduate from York University, was making us a cup of tea when his phone rang. He'd obviously recently changed his ring tone to play a piece of dramatic classical music, which I rather liked because it sounded a little like the London Requiem. I was about to shout across at him to say "if you like that, you should hear my requiem," when I realised it WAS my requiem!

He was mortified, but I was thrilled. I have always wondered what it would feel like to randomly hear one of my own songs playing on the radio - without prior knowledge - so hearing the Requiem, out of context like that, was rather exciting.

Today's session went about as well as I could have hoped. It is so lovely to have reached the stage with the music where it's something other people are working on. It's no longer a private thing blaring into my ears through a pair of headphones. People are interpreting it. Getting into it. Giving me a sense of what it could be. Both Rex (bass) and Martyn played wonderfully, and the songs are flying off the page; particularly the opening sequence, which is a mad dash through a million different musical genres. The pressure valve has suddenly been released and I'm breathing again.

I wish I could say the same for poor Nathan, who is drowning in a sea of admin and niggling emails. Of course everyone who writes to him has something they're really keen to find out, and Nathan is dealing with as many requests as he can, but by the time he finishes one response, another three have appeared in his inbox. Half way through the session today, I took a phone call from him in a desperate state, which I was absolutely helpless to do anything about. I think the straw that broke this particular camel's back was finding out we suddenly don't have one of our sopranos for Sunday's session. I am returning home now to see if there's anything I can do to help. I'd love to whisk him away for a few hours to see a film or have a meal, but sadly there's too much to do.

Pin cushion

There's something rather calming about a walk to work, especially when the journey involves a trip along the length of Parkland Walk, one of North London's hidden treasures. For those of you reading who aren't familiar with this little nature reserve, Parkland Walk follows the route of an old tube line, which, I think I'm right in thinking, was never opened, primarily because of the war. The proposed Piccadilly spur was due to link Finsbury Park and Highgate, taking in Crouch End and Stroud Green, before drifting off up to Muswell Hill. It would have been a hugely useful route for those of us who like to travel in an East-West direction, but sadly it was never to be.

It has, however, left an impressive legacy: a long, snaking nature reserve, filled with glorious trees and merry birds, which, on a warm, late winter morning is about as pleasant as one can expect a place to be. The other intriguing thing about the walk  is that it has a peculiarly shallow gradient. In any other route, a journey from Highgate to Finsbury Park would involve several incredibly steep hills. Parkland Walk, however, seems almost flat. That's why it's popular with joggers.

I've been with Julian all day at his house-cum-studio in Crouch End, prepping pro-tools sessions for our Channel 4 film. I was up until 3am sorting things out and apologise profusely to anyone who might have worried about my mental health when they saw Nathan's guest entry yesterday! All is good today, I assure you. I feel calm and relaxed.

We've had the most curious weather all day. First sun, then rain, then hail. The mercury must have been bouncing up and down like a yoyo. Dark brooding clouds were the order of the day, with a dazzling sun which periodically appeared from nowhere and shone so brightly we were forced to close the blinds. The most remarkable display came when all manner of things happened at the same time. The sun glinting on hail gave the impression that gold was actually falling from the sky, and the double rainbow which followed was one of the finest I've seen. It was so vivid, in fact, that one of its tails seemed to hover over the Tarmac on the street outside. "A good omen," said Julian, "for this project."

I emerged from Julian's at about 7pm, and walked back along Parkland Walk, until the darkness made me start to feel a little vulnerable. The air following the rain was gloriously crisp and clean. From the heights of Crouch End I could see all the way down to the twinkling City lights; a pin cushion of red and white with the odd patriotic fleck of blue at Canary Wharf. So near, yet so far away. When I see those particular buildings looking like tiny glowing match boxes, I always think about Brother Edward, wondering if he's at work, or at home, staring out across the Thames towards the O2.

Music Mayhem

Hello all, and greetings from Nathan, Benjamin's guest blogger for the night.

I'm stepping in to fill Ben's shoes tonight, because he is completely swamped with writing and preparing for "The Big Project" which is still being kept under wraps.  For the next few days at least.

I usually abhor the kind of cryptic posts you often see on Twitter and Facebook, along the lines of,  "I've got some very exciting news to tell you, but I'm not going to tell you yet!"  I usually find it all a bit disingenuous, and, well, frankly, a bit tacky, but in this case, Ben and I are forbidden from saying anything at all.  All of which, of course, only goes to make everything even more cryptic, and possibly, even more tacky, for which I can only apologise.

The only reason I bring it up at all, is that otherwise, it would be difficult to explain why Ben isn't here writing his own blog entry!

We both got up early again today.  Early for us, at any rate - I know those of you readers with children will think that an 8.30 alarm clock is a very slovenly lie-in indeed, but Ben and I don't ever get to bed before one o'clock in the morning, so I think we are justified in not seeing the dawn break.  I have friends who always goggle at the fact that I'm sometimes still in bed at ten a.m. (although that's been very rare of late!).  When I ask them what time they go to bed, and hear the reply, "ten-thirty," I just grin to myself, and do the mental maths which often means I'm in bed for fewer hours than those people who think actors must be terribly lazy people indeed.  We're not.  Well, not all the time.  It's just that our working day is shifted on a few hours from where most people's days sit.

I used to battle with my mum over this, who for many years used to call me up at 7.30 in the morning, claiming that she had been up for hours, so what was I grumpy about?  It didn't seem to have occurred to her, that my working day hadn't finish the night before until nearly 11 o'clock, then by the time I got home it was nearly midnight.  The other one that people often say is that, "oh, you must be on such a high from the performance - no wonder you can't sleep straightaway!"  I'd like to set that record straight right now.  It has NOTHING to do with being "on a high."  Half a year into a contract in a long-running West End show, the last thing you feel is on a high.  Don't get me wrong, I love my job, and can't imagine making a career out of anything else, but once you get past the opening night, and are a few weeks in, the nerves and the adrenaline disappear, and what you mostly feel at the end of a show is utterly exhausted.  Skipping about for two and a half hours is quite a lot of cardio in one sitting!  Now do it eight times a week...

So why, I hear you ask, do I not go to sleep at a "reasonable" time like everyone else?

Back to the point about finishing at nearly 11 o'clock: how many people who finish work at 5pm are in bed by 6?  Anyone?  I didn't think so.  No further questions, Your Honour.

I digress...

Since getting up this morning, we have both been sitting solidly at our computers, beavering away at what is fast becoming the most stressful thing I've ever worked on - so much to do, and no time to do it in... But I'm talking cryptically again, so I'll stop.

With hardly a break for lunch, and even less for tea, we've both worked through the day: Ben in the kitchen, trying to look after his back and his posture, and me in the living room. We've had tears and tantrums, when technology lets one or other of us down, and the frustration kicks in, but mostly, I think we've achieved a great deal.  There's still a long way to go, and it looks like Ben will be working through a fair portion of the night tonight to get everything ready for phase two, which starts in the morning.

We'll get there.  We have to!

I brought a little plate of jam tarts into the living room, where Ben has now moved to, as the kitchen is such a depressing mess of crockery and laundry (all clean, I might add, but strewn around the floor and the work surfaces because we simply don't have the time to clear anything away right now!), that he needed a change of scenery.  He looked up from his laptop, and saw my pathetic offering, and his eyes almost filled with tears of joy.  It's ridiculous how the smallest things can mean so much.

Putting things into perspective though, I learned today that the mother of a dear friend passed away unexpectedly today.  I say unexpectedly, as although the lady in question was well over ninety years old, I only saw her earlier this week, and she looked full of the joys of Spring, and as happy and healthy as I've ever known her.  It made me realise, that although my life has been turned a bit upside down of late, and I feel I'm under a whole heap of pressure to get a lot of work done in a very short space of time, how lucky I am, not to be facing the pain of grief, or ill health, or loneliness.

News like that helps you to re-evaluate, taking stock, and throwing the good stuff back into the light, from which it may have been hiding for a while, but proving that it can still gleam with the shine of optimism and happiness.  We would all do well not to forget that.  Post Tenebras Lux and all that.

And on that note, I'm signing off.  Thanks for listening to the waffling of a square-eyed, braid-dead loon.  Panic not: normal Benjamin service shall no doubt resume again tomorrow.

Until next time, sleep well.

Nivea

Crumbs. I'm seeing double! I was up at 8 this morning and have been finessing and formatting parts ever since. I think I'll be at it long into the night because once that task is complete, I have to export a million midi files...

I am genuinely beginning to crack under the strain of all of this. Just as I think I'm getting a handle on things, someone else emails, or telephones, asking for something else and I'm back to square one. I can't even see the light at the end of the tunnel, because once this Channel 4 project is over, I'm straight into the first set of rehearsals for Brass. I am desperate for a lie-in.

Nathan is similarly stressed. I pity the door in our front room which has been slammed so often today it's coming off it hinges!

Whilst I'm dealing with the musical side of things, poor Nathan is having to wade his way through all the other stuff; liaising with producers, visiting shoots, booking musicians, grappling with technology and dealing with the ever-changing requirements of people whom I'm forced to describe in this blog at this stage as "audience members."

Both of us are now suffering from stress-related ailments. My skin's gone dry and itchy. Nathan can't shake his cough and keeps getting headaches. My back is in spams.

Of course we'll both be fine in the morning. We have good days and bad days and they seem to alternate.

One of our problems is that other people working on this project, quite understandably, want to keep abreast of their own production tasks, and continually demand from us the stuff they feel they need to do everything properly. Of course the issue with this is that, by helping them to stay ahead of things, we end up behind with our own work, which is the foundation which keeps the entire project upright. My stock response: will it wait til Monday? If so, it's less important than the stuff I need to do before tomorrow.

So, I'm having a bath, have plastered myself in Nivea and have had a bowl of Shreddies. This means I can face my night time work session with renewed vigour and, with any luck, get another set of parts completed before I fall asleep.