Okay, here's the thing. Its freakishly hot outside, and I can't be bothered doing anything. What's more, having spent thousands of dollars banishing termites from our house and repairing the damage of their little feast, I was none too pleased to discover that the little bastards are back, chewing away on my kitchen floor. My high school magazine arrived today, showing pictures of the school reunion of 1992 - a bunch of grizzled, boring middle aged men, who all graduated a decade after me! This little tipsy gyspy ain't happy and I don't care who knows it.
But you know what? There isn't much that the world can throw at me that Gilbert and Sullivan don't make better. I swear, ten minutes of Ruddigore and the woes of the world vanish.
So you see, in bringing Thespis to the Australian public we are doing more than serving art. We are doing a Community Service.
That's the best I can manage on a day like this! Stay tuned......
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Monday, December 28, 2009
Back to Business
Christmas is over and things are settling down. For some reason, I find the period between Christmas and New Year thoroughly irritating - everything is in limbo and I can't be bothered doing anything. Yesterday being a case in point - thought I would go to the gym, do some shopping, watch TV. I did all three, but with no enthusiasm whatsoever, and sat around in a massive grump.
One bright spot - I was offered a place in the Iolanthe Chorus which is big news for me. Iolanthe has so many great choruses and I have never sung so much as a note of any of them. Some people have wondered why I didn't try for a principal role. Simple - I'm not really up to it and the men's chorus needs as many strong singers as it can get. Traditionally the men's chorus is a major weakness for this G&S company. I want this to be an exception.
Anyway, back to Thespis. I watched a production from the Buxton festival over the break. Its a different edition - with a freshly composed score. I wasn't mad about it, to be frank. The attempts to sound Sullivanesque only showed how inspired the real thing is, and when we had some genuine Sullivan, it really shone out like a beacon.
The guy playing Tipseion was okay, but he was obviously instructed to play it as bad panto, and I don't think that will be James' approach. Like so much of Gilbert's work, it plays better than it reads. The Grand Duke is the supreme example of that - it looks complex on the page, but works well on stage. Ditto Thespis.
I wish I could get cracking on learning the score, but I have to be patient. And see the beginning of this missive - patience is not my forte.
One bright spot - I was offered a place in the Iolanthe Chorus which is big news for me. Iolanthe has so many great choruses and I have never sung so much as a note of any of them. Some people have wondered why I didn't try for a principal role. Simple - I'm not really up to it and the men's chorus needs as many strong singers as it can get. Traditionally the men's chorus is a major weakness for this G&S company. I want this to be an exception.
Anyway, back to Thespis. I watched a production from the Buxton festival over the break. Its a different edition - with a freshly composed score. I wasn't mad about it, to be frank. The attempts to sound Sullivanesque only showed how inspired the real thing is, and when we had some genuine Sullivan, it really shone out like a beacon.
The guy playing Tipseion was okay, but he was obviously instructed to play it as bad panto, and I don't think that will be James' approach. Like so much of Gilbert's work, it plays better than it reads. The Grand Duke is the supreme example of that - it looks complex on the page, but works well on stage. Ditto Thespis.
I wish I could get cracking on learning the score, but I have to be patient. And see the beginning of this missive - patience is not my forte.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Day Three - Merry Christmas
Christmas morning and what a haul! A funny Ape cookie jar, some books and DVDs, and a funny arm strap thing to hold my iPod in place at the gym. The gym membership will be necessary in the lead up to Thespis. All that dancing.
I love Christmas almost as much as I love G&S, but Christmas comes but once a year, so I shall keep this brief. Aaron is in the kitchen smashing Arrowroot biscuits for his famous rum balls. God bless us, every one.
I love Christmas almost as much as I love G&S, but Christmas comes but once a year, so I shall keep this brief. Aaron is in the kitchen smashing Arrowroot biscuits for his famous rum balls. God bless us, every one.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Thespis Day Two
Couldn't sleep last night - it was one of the hottest December nights in Melbourne on record. So I watched a really crappy sequel to Creature From the Black Lagoon, and when that didn't put me to sleep, I turned my attention to Thespis.
Its such a curious piece. Totally different to anything else that Gilbert and Sullivan wrote - and yet you can see some of the concepts in embryo.
My audition for Thespis was one of the strangest experiences I have ever had. For years I have worked on the administration side of Gilbert and Sullivan Opera Victoria, figuring that I haven't sung in many years and wasn't up to snuff anyway - some of the guys in that company are pretty amazing! Watch Ron Pidcock in action - I think he is the amongst the very best G&S comedians in Australia - and you will understand why I thought I could never share a stage with him. (Ron is playing the title role in Thespis, I'm happy to say.)
Late last year one of our chorus ladies emailed me and said they were short some sailors to man the HMS Pinafore, and cajoled, nagged and almost resorted to blackmail to get me to join the chorus. Because I have the will power of an amoeba, I agreed, and surprisingly had a very good time and in all modesty, did pretty well. But it was clear to me that if I wanted to go on doing this, I would have to get serious, brush the rust off my voice and get some lessons. Encouraged by our doughty Captain Corcoran, Bruce Raggatt, and aforementioned sister/cousin/aunt Naomi Hobbs, I got cracking and started formal lessons.
Naomi Hobbs will figure prominently in this blog, I suspect. She is an absolute delight. Truly lovely voice, the dead spit of a young Mary Pickford, a lively actress - she pretty much has the whole package. She calls me Henrietta and I call her Merna. If you are wondering why, head to YouTube and type in Henrietta and Merna Can't Sing and marvel at a truly unique rendition of "Go Tell It On The Mountain." It is something to behold, and was the first point over which Naomi and I bonded. Naomi, unlike Merna, can sing, and jolly well at that.
Anyway, enough of Naomi. Back to me. No sooner did I get a few lessons under my belt than auditions were called for Thespis. Waaaaay too early for me, but what can you do. "Excuse me, would you mind deferring your auditions until I have learned to sing?" You can run that one up the flagpole but nobody would be saluting.
I have sat on audition panels a few times, and I had no idea that seemingly benign people could look so terrifying. I had prepared a few pieces - our brief was anything by Gilbert and Sullivan, and trust me, I was so tempted to belt my way through "When a Merry Maiden Marries" and then look up innocently and say "Well, you said anything!!!" but at moments like this you don't tempt fate.
The day before I had sung through my options for Merna. The Pirate King was out. Though I made a fair fist of it, everybody sings The Pirate King at auditions. We had eleven in one night alone, as I recall, and it got to a point where you couldn't tell them apart. (My favourite was one who apologised after every line - "Oh better far to live and die SORRY SORRY SORRY - Under the brave black flag I fly SORRY SORRY SORRY" and so forth.)
I had also worked on Private Willis' song from Iolanthe, but I was singing that the very next night at an audition for Iolanthe chorus. So that only left "My Boy You May Take It From Me" from Ruddigore. Merna seemed to think it was the best option.
Anyway, I rocked up on time for my audition. I was first cab off the rank. The rehearsal hall - a refurbished scout hall in Blackburn - has recently been renovated, and the foyer is illustrated with scenes from past productions, including the aforementioned Pinafore. And there I was, in all my glory, a middle aged man in a sailor suit. Not the time to be confronted with such an image.
In the kitchen, Brian Taylor was eating something that vaguely resembled a lasagne. Brian is on the company committee and is a delight. Calls a spade a spade. But even he could not call that lasagne. It was Brian's task to introduce the auditionees, and when that little bell rang from within the hall, and Brian ushered me in, I would gladly have given everything I own for a chance to run away.
I felt a bit like Greta Garbo in the last scene of Mata Hari. Composed and serene on the outside, facing the firing squad, and trembling like an aspen on the inside. The panel was made up of James Wright, our Director, John Ferguson, our Musical Director, and Robert Ray, the token Committee person.
James Wright is a wonderful director, with excellent people skills. He is maddeningly assured at all times - nothing ever seems to phase him. He apparently lost his temper with me during a Pinafore rehearsal once, and either I am very obtuse or (more likely) he is very polite because I honestly didn't notice.
John Ferguson I don't know very well, but I have enjoyed his wit in the past, and he is a wonderful musician. You really notice it when John is in the pit. One reason I wanted to be in Thespis was to work with him. He seemed mildly surprised to see me there.
And that only leaves Robert. Ah Robert - one of the few people whose friendship I give eternal thanks for. Heaven knows we clash at times, but he is a genuinely generous, funny and warm human being.
All of these august qualities were as nothing as nerves took over. Gone was the Garbo before the firing squad analogy, rapidly replaced by Charlton Heston facing a tribunal of ourangutans in Planet of the Apes.
After some mild banter, none of which I remember, the music started and I started to sing. "My boy you may take it from me, that of all the afflictions accursed" and so on. Don't know how I sang, but I do know that I stayed in time - no mean feat with that piece - and in tune, and soon enough it was all over. I remember being in the home stretch and remembering the apologising Pirate King, and feeling an overwhelming empathy. Karma is a bitch.
The thing about auditions is that time stands still. Its a bit like being in an accident. Emotions are so heightened that you can't read peoples' expressions. Both James and John were smiling broadly, and with the wisdom of hindsight I can see that this was a good sign. At the time all I could think was "They're laughing at me!!!!"
The first words came from Robert, who asked, "Why didn't you sing something easy, like the Queen of the Night?" There was general discussion about how hard the piece is, and I explained that a friend had recommended that I sing this one. "Yes, but we're sober," posited John. Now normally I would thoroughly enjoy a conversation like that, would join in with the banter and just go with it. Logically, they wouldn't say such things if they meant it - they would say it seriously. But at that point I felt so disempowered I didn't know what to think.
Well, it was all very civil and all over very quickly, and I knew enough to not try and assess what had just transpired. But as I left the hall, there standing in the foyer was Ron Pidcock. I gotta say, I am in awe of this man - and he heard every note. The apologising Pirate King had nothing on me. I fairly grovelled. Ron smiled. He has seen all this before. "You'll be all right," he said. When Ron says that, you believe it.
And with reason because there was a message from James on my machine a couple of days later. "I'll put you out of your suspense. We want you for Thespis." My partner Aaron and I had a little celebrate, and behind closed doors I did the Snoopy dance. Even better was a text from Merna. She was in as well.
A couple of days ago I received an email from James asking if I would like to play Tipseion - a small but fun part. Tipseion is a reformed alcoholic who is transformed into Bacchus, God of Wine in the second act. I don't fit either description, but I guess that's what they mean when they call it acting.
So that's more or less how we got to this point. Its Christmas Eve and I am feeling happy and grateful, which I guess is how it should be on a day like today. I have been obsessed with Thespis for years, but will read it again before I go to bed tonight and await Santa's visit. If anyone is reading (probably not, but its very cathartic to write) - Merry Christmas!!!
Its such a curious piece. Totally different to anything else that Gilbert and Sullivan wrote - and yet you can see some of the concepts in embryo.
My audition for Thespis was one of the strangest experiences I have ever had. For years I have worked on the administration side of Gilbert and Sullivan Opera Victoria, figuring that I haven't sung in many years and wasn't up to snuff anyway - some of the guys in that company are pretty amazing! Watch Ron Pidcock in action - I think he is the amongst the very best G&S comedians in Australia - and you will understand why I thought I could never share a stage with him. (Ron is playing the title role in Thespis, I'm happy to say.)
Late last year one of our chorus ladies emailed me and said they were short some sailors to man the HMS Pinafore, and cajoled, nagged and almost resorted to blackmail to get me to join the chorus. Because I have the will power of an amoeba, I agreed, and surprisingly had a very good time and in all modesty, did pretty well. But it was clear to me that if I wanted to go on doing this, I would have to get serious, brush the rust off my voice and get some lessons. Encouraged by our doughty Captain Corcoran, Bruce Raggatt, and aforementioned sister/cousin/aunt Naomi Hobbs, I got cracking and started formal lessons.
Naomi Hobbs will figure prominently in this blog, I suspect. She is an absolute delight. Truly lovely voice, the dead spit of a young Mary Pickford, a lively actress - she pretty much has the whole package. She calls me Henrietta and I call her Merna. If you are wondering why, head to YouTube and type in Henrietta and Merna Can't Sing and marvel at a truly unique rendition of "Go Tell It On The Mountain." It is something to behold, and was the first point over which Naomi and I bonded. Naomi, unlike Merna, can sing, and jolly well at that.
Anyway, enough of Naomi. Back to me. No sooner did I get a few lessons under my belt than auditions were called for Thespis. Waaaaay too early for me, but what can you do. "Excuse me, would you mind deferring your auditions until I have learned to sing?" You can run that one up the flagpole but nobody would be saluting.
I have sat on audition panels a few times, and I had no idea that seemingly benign people could look so terrifying. I had prepared a few pieces - our brief was anything by Gilbert and Sullivan, and trust me, I was so tempted to belt my way through "When a Merry Maiden Marries" and then look up innocently and say "Well, you said anything!!!" but at moments like this you don't tempt fate.
The day before I had sung through my options for Merna. The Pirate King was out. Though I made a fair fist of it, everybody sings The Pirate King at auditions. We had eleven in one night alone, as I recall, and it got to a point where you couldn't tell them apart. (My favourite was one who apologised after every line - "Oh better far to live and die SORRY SORRY SORRY - Under the brave black flag I fly SORRY SORRY SORRY" and so forth.)
I had also worked on Private Willis' song from Iolanthe, but I was singing that the very next night at an audition for Iolanthe chorus. So that only left "My Boy You May Take It From Me" from Ruddigore. Merna seemed to think it was the best option.
Anyway, I rocked up on time for my audition. I was first cab off the rank. The rehearsal hall - a refurbished scout hall in Blackburn - has recently been renovated, and the foyer is illustrated with scenes from past productions, including the aforementioned Pinafore. And there I was, in all my glory, a middle aged man in a sailor suit. Not the time to be confronted with such an image.
In the kitchen, Brian Taylor was eating something that vaguely resembled a lasagne. Brian is on the company committee and is a delight. Calls a spade a spade. But even he could not call that lasagne. It was Brian's task to introduce the auditionees, and when that little bell rang from within the hall, and Brian ushered me in, I would gladly have given everything I own for a chance to run away.
I felt a bit like Greta Garbo in the last scene of Mata Hari. Composed and serene on the outside, facing the firing squad, and trembling like an aspen on the inside. The panel was made up of James Wright, our Director, John Ferguson, our Musical Director, and Robert Ray, the token Committee person.
James Wright is a wonderful director, with excellent people skills. He is maddeningly assured at all times - nothing ever seems to phase him. He apparently lost his temper with me during a Pinafore rehearsal once, and either I am very obtuse or (more likely) he is very polite because I honestly didn't notice.
John Ferguson I don't know very well, but I have enjoyed his wit in the past, and he is a wonderful musician. You really notice it when John is in the pit. One reason I wanted to be in Thespis was to work with him. He seemed mildly surprised to see me there.
And that only leaves Robert. Ah Robert - one of the few people whose friendship I give eternal thanks for. Heaven knows we clash at times, but he is a genuinely generous, funny and warm human being.
All of these august qualities were as nothing as nerves took over. Gone was the Garbo before the firing squad analogy, rapidly replaced by Charlton Heston facing a tribunal of ourangutans in Planet of the Apes.
After some mild banter, none of which I remember, the music started and I started to sing. "My boy you may take it from me, that of all the afflictions accursed" and so on. Don't know how I sang, but I do know that I stayed in time - no mean feat with that piece - and in tune, and soon enough it was all over. I remember being in the home stretch and remembering the apologising Pirate King, and feeling an overwhelming empathy. Karma is a bitch.
The thing about auditions is that time stands still. Its a bit like being in an accident. Emotions are so heightened that you can't read peoples' expressions. Both James and John were smiling broadly, and with the wisdom of hindsight I can see that this was a good sign. At the time all I could think was "They're laughing at me!!!!"
The first words came from Robert, who asked, "Why didn't you sing something easy, like the Queen of the Night?" There was general discussion about how hard the piece is, and I explained that a friend had recommended that I sing this one. "Yes, but we're sober," posited John. Now normally I would thoroughly enjoy a conversation like that, would join in with the banter and just go with it. Logically, they wouldn't say such things if they meant it - they would say it seriously. But at that point I felt so disempowered I didn't know what to think.
Well, it was all very civil and all over very quickly, and I knew enough to not try and assess what had just transpired. But as I left the hall, there standing in the foyer was Ron Pidcock. I gotta say, I am in awe of this man - and he heard every note. The apologising Pirate King had nothing on me. I fairly grovelled. Ron smiled. He has seen all this before. "You'll be all right," he said. When Ron says that, you believe it.
And with reason because there was a message from James on my machine a couple of days later. "I'll put you out of your suspense. We want you for Thespis." My partner Aaron and I had a little celebrate, and behind closed doors I did the Snoopy dance. Even better was a text from Merna. She was in as well.
A couple of days ago I received an email from James asking if I would like to play Tipseion - a small but fun part. Tipseion is a reformed alcoholic who is transformed into Bacchus, God of Wine in the second act. I don't fit either description, but I guess that's what they mean when they call it acting.
So that's more or less how we got to this point. Its Christmas Eve and I am feeling happy and grateful, which I guess is how it should be on a day like today. I have been obsessed with Thespis for years, but will read it again before I go to bed tonight and await Santa's visit. If anyone is reading (probably not, but its very cathartic to write) - Merry Christmas!!!
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Thespis Day One
Okay, Aussie G&S fans, here's the big news for 2010! Gilbert and Sullivan's first collaboration, Thespis or The Gods Grown Old, is finally to be performed on Australian soil. Now I am sure that one or two of you will be saying "What the hell is Thespis?" and to both of you I say - Thespis was a Christmas extravaganza premiered on Boxing Day 1871 at the Gaiety Theatre. It had some pretty good reviews, had a pretty good run, and then everyone forgot about it.
But it refused to lie down and die, and when its creators, Gilbert and Sullivan, hit the big time a few years later they politely acknowledged it, borrowed one of its choruses for The Pirates of Penzance, but never revived it. Sullivan never had the score published and for years it has been lost.
Enter Tony Baker and Tim Henty, who in 2008 unveiled their critically acclaimed reconstruction of Thespis in the UK. Wonderful reviews, full houses - if airfares weren't so bloody expensive I would have flown over to see it for myself, though I'm told tickets could not be had for love nor money.
And now, Gilbert and Sullivan Opera Victoria, Australia's best G&S Company - more on them later - have bitten the bullet and will be performing this edition in 2010 at the Alexander Theatre.
And who am I, pray tell? More on that later as well. For now, just call me Tipseion........
But it refused to lie down and die, and when its creators, Gilbert and Sullivan, hit the big time a few years later they politely acknowledged it, borrowed one of its choruses for The Pirates of Penzance, but never revived it. Sullivan never had the score published and for years it has been lost.
Enter Tony Baker and Tim Henty, who in 2008 unveiled their critically acclaimed reconstruction of Thespis in the UK. Wonderful reviews, full houses - if airfares weren't so bloody expensive I would have flown over to see it for myself, though I'm told tickets could not be had for love nor money.
And now, Gilbert and Sullivan Opera Victoria, Australia's best G&S Company - more on them later - have bitten the bullet and will be performing this edition in 2010 at the Alexander Theatre.
And who am I, pray tell? More on that later as well. For now, just call me Tipseion........
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