Monday, December 18, 2006
it is better to light a glow-stick than to curse the total fire ban
I am feeling moved to blog. Mostly to reassure myself that I have SOME brain function happening above my brain-stem (Work sucks pretty much. Can you say "Fourteen and fifteen-hour workdays" boys and girls?). But partly cos I actually have some news.
Last night I sang at the Wodonga Carols by Candlelight at the prettily-named Willow Park.
It was as well-organised as any concert I've been in (reminded me not a little of the Graduations machine swinging into action given that they have been doing this for some years now) but it was...well, very BORDER REGION in flavour (I refuse to say "country" because the only country towns I know fairly well are Albury and Wodonga and there would be very few other country towns that could even have a similar size, let alone all the other stuff....).
Firstly, although there thousands of people come and there is much money to be made from them, the event is free. (Unlike another event I could mention!) The much-vaunted supplement in the paper which listed all the carol words and profiled all the performers was also free (they had copies at the gate too, in case you were too cheap to buy the paper it came in).
They had the SES/CFA on the gate directing traffic into parking. The SES/CFA peeps are ALWAYS on the gate at these things. They even bring their own bright overalls. Bless them. People should give them a whole lot more money, really.
The organisers broadcast the whole thing on community radio (or rather, they would have, only they experienced "technical difficulties", so no recording for me, alas). So if you have your supplement and a radio, you don't even have to leave your living room.
I love all this stuff. I like getting paid to sing (hooley dooley, do I ever!), but I also approve mightily of families being able to come out for a night of sitting and singing and waving candles and kids running around like crazy things way past their bedtime, and doing it all for the price of the petrol to get there.
I suppose I'm making it sound a bit rinky-dink, but it wasn't, not at all. It was just on a scale appropriate to itself. The stage and the AV sitch were both completely professional. The Wodonga Brass Band has got some seriously good game.
But anyone could come to the "backstage" (read, side of the stage behind all the sponsors' banners) area and say hi (which is how come my sister suddenly appeared holding the hands of two very excited little daughters to say "yay!" when I was done).
The entire "green room" was very green indeed, ie it was some chairs on the grass and if you had to get changed there was a large green tent. The refreshments for performers was a lot of bottled water and some cups. (The stage manager had a beer, but he'd been given that by one of the crowd, so no beer for anyone else sadly).
And there was a crowd all right! No idea if they reached their target of 10,000, but there were several thousand there by the time I got on stage (I was the third-last performer and not too long after Santa arrived, which is a hard act to follow at a Carols night, believe you me).
And it was a beautiful cool night, no bushfire smoke, a light breeze, and I got to sing Joy to the World without the sound man having to push his "this loud and no louder" button. I had to sing with a MICROPHONE. I don't like them. I don't trust them. I don't seem to be able to get that orally-intimate relationship with them that so many singers have developed. It's more sort of coffee-on-a-first-date-and-no-touching when it comes to me and microphones. But I learned very very quickly how to keep the damn thing away from me when I really cut loose on the big notes.
My carols: well, I jollied the crowd along (the choir before me had sung some Andrew Lloyd-Webber, oh dear, and so they were a bit subdued) and the intro started and I MISSED THE CUE for "Joy to the World". Like I haven't sung that carol a million times before and also nailed it twice in both rehearsals. YEESH.
But I got it on the second line and then sang like my life depended on it to make up for such an ickily unprofessional error. I finished with the BIG NOTE (note: microphone held so far out from me it was approximately in the next suburb) and got some cheers, so that was nice.
Then I sang "Mary's Boy Child". Number of missed cues: NONE. Number of big finishes: one. Some more cheers.
Things I never knew about singing at a big Carols by Candlight but which I shall now impart unto you:
1. The performers can't hear the audience singing along.
I'm serious. There's so much noise from the band and from the foldback that you can't hear a damn thing outside the stage. So the crowd may feel they are with the performer and having a wonderful time; the performer just hopes like hell someone is listening out there and that their slip is not showing.
2. You can't see anyone in the crowd.
All those artistic shots of innocent little kiddlibink faces bathed in the warm glow of the candles? Yeah, right, whatever. You can see all the pretty twinkly lights of candles and glow sticks, and that would be it. No people. Just dots of light. It's all horribly metaphorical.
3. Unless you're Santa, you don't get the big applause
Or Prime Possum. Or indeed any mythical creature that gets to sing the total-and-utter crowd pleaser songs like "Jingle Bells".
4. Being the "opera singer" and assuming the Marina Position cuts both ways
Some of the other singers were bitching and moaning (well, more than usual anyway, singers ALWAYS bitch and moan when gathered together) because they had to come after me. Oh eep. Also, my legend has grown with each new and inaccurate mention of me in the paper. I think they stopped just short of having had me sing at Covent Garden for the Queen. I provided my CV, my CV is accurate, they took it and put a spin on it that would have put the US govt to shame. And I find I'm not nearly as shameless about publicity as I thought I was, and the whole thing has made me Twitchy.
5. Singing in the middle of an oval in the middle of a drought has its moments
e.g. - the fine bulldust EVERYWHERE raised by thousands of people and cars, which gets into everything, up to and including the moment you open your mouth to sing and you can feel your throat coated in it. Uck. Not to mention stiletto heels on soft, dry earth - all the girls looked like Marcel Marceau doing "stuck in the mud argh argh".
6. Singing for thousands of people is way cool
Yup. Totally. I know performers carry on about "the energy", but all those little dots of light put out SOMETHING that gets you seriously hepped up.
7. Singing for your family under the guise of singing for thousands of people is way cooler
I really wasn't singing for the glory of God and Albury-Wodonga. That was fun, and maybe it will get me some local recognition; but really, I was performing for five people about 30 feet from the stage, and they loved it, so I'm happy.
Still got four ceremonies to go, then back off to Albury on Friday so no time to do Xmas cards or anything, so if you read this regularly:
Have a Snappy Happy and a Cool Yule
Hugs
Alexandra
Last night I sang at the Wodonga Carols by Candlelight at the prettily-named Willow Park.
It was as well-organised as any concert I've been in (reminded me not a little of the Graduations machine swinging into action given that they have been doing this for some years now) but it was...well, very BORDER REGION in flavour (I refuse to say "country" because the only country towns I know fairly well are Albury and Wodonga and there would be very few other country towns that could even have a similar size, let alone all the other stuff....).
Firstly, although there thousands of people come and there is much money to be made from them, the event is free. (Unlike another event I could mention!) The much-vaunted supplement in the paper which listed all the carol words and profiled all the performers was also free (they had copies at the gate too, in case you were too cheap to buy the paper it came in).
They had the SES/CFA on the gate directing traffic into parking. The SES/CFA peeps are ALWAYS on the gate at these things. They even bring their own bright overalls. Bless them. People should give them a whole lot more money, really.
The organisers broadcast the whole thing on community radio (or rather, they would have, only they experienced "technical difficulties", so no recording for me, alas). So if you have your supplement and a radio, you don't even have to leave your living room.
I love all this stuff. I like getting paid to sing (hooley dooley, do I ever!), but I also approve mightily of families being able to come out for a night of sitting and singing and waving candles and kids running around like crazy things way past their bedtime, and doing it all for the price of the petrol to get there.
I suppose I'm making it sound a bit rinky-dink, but it wasn't, not at all. It was just on a scale appropriate to itself. The stage and the AV sitch were both completely professional. The Wodonga Brass Band has got some seriously good game.
But anyone could come to the "backstage" (read, side of the stage behind all the sponsors' banners) area and say hi (which is how come my sister suddenly appeared holding the hands of two very excited little daughters to say "yay!" when I was done).
The entire "green room" was very green indeed, ie it was some chairs on the grass and if you had to get changed there was a large green tent. The refreshments for performers was a lot of bottled water and some cups. (The stage manager had a beer, but he'd been given that by one of the crowd, so no beer for anyone else sadly).
And there was a crowd all right! No idea if they reached their target of 10,000, but there were several thousand there by the time I got on stage (I was the third-last performer and not too long after Santa arrived, which is a hard act to follow at a Carols night, believe you me).
And it was a beautiful cool night, no bushfire smoke, a light breeze, and I got to sing Joy to the World without the sound man having to push his "this loud and no louder" button. I had to sing with a MICROPHONE. I don't like them. I don't trust them. I don't seem to be able to get that orally-intimate relationship with them that so many singers have developed. It's more sort of coffee-on-a-first-date-and-no-touching when it comes to me and microphones. But I learned very very quickly how to keep the damn thing away from me when I really cut loose on the big notes.
My carols: well, I jollied the crowd along (the choir before me had sung some Andrew Lloyd-Webber, oh dear, and so they were a bit subdued) and the intro started and I MISSED THE CUE for "Joy to the World". Like I haven't sung that carol a million times before and also nailed it twice in both rehearsals. YEESH.
But I got it on the second line and then sang like my life depended on it to make up for such an ickily unprofessional error. I finished with the BIG NOTE (note: microphone held so far out from me it was approximately in the next suburb) and got some cheers, so that was nice.
Then I sang "Mary's Boy Child". Number of missed cues: NONE. Number of big finishes: one. Some more cheers.
Things I never knew about singing at a big Carols by Candlight but which I shall now impart unto you:
1. The performers can't hear the audience singing along.
I'm serious. There's so much noise from the band and from the foldback that you can't hear a damn thing outside the stage. So the crowd may feel they are with the performer and having a wonderful time; the performer just hopes like hell someone is listening out there and that their slip is not showing.
2. You can't see anyone in the crowd.
All those artistic shots of innocent little kiddlibink faces bathed in the warm glow of the candles? Yeah, right, whatever. You can see all the pretty twinkly lights of candles and glow sticks, and that would be it. No people. Just dots of light. It's all horribly metaphorical.
3. Unless you're Santa, you don't get the big applause
Or Prime Possum. Or indeed any mythical creature that gets to sing the total-and-utter crowd pleaser songs like "Jingle Bells".
4. Being the "opera singer" and assuming the Marina Position cuts both ways
Some of the other singers were bitching and moaning (well, more than usual anyway, singers ALWAYS bitch and moan when gathered together) because they had to come after me. Oh eep. Also, my legend has grown with each new and inaccurate mention of me in the paper. I think they stopped just short of having had me sing at Covent Garden for the Queen. I provided my CV, my CV is accurate, they took it and put a spin on it that would have put the US govt to shame. And I find I'm not nearly as shameless about publicity as I thought I was, and the whole thing has made me Twitchy.
5. Singing in the middle of an oval in the middle of a drought has its moments
e.g. - the fine bulldust EVERYWHERE raised by thousands of people and cars, which gets into everything, up to and including the moment you open your mouth to sing and you can feel your throat coated in it. Uck. Not to mention stiletto heels on soft, dry earth - all the girls looked like Marcel Marceau doing "stuck in the mud argh argh".
6. Singing for thousands of people is way cool
Yup. Totally. I know performers carry on about "the energy", but all those little dots of light put out SOMETHING that gets you seriously hepped up.
7. Singing for your family under the guise of singing for thousands of people is way cooler
I really wasn't singing for the glory of God and Albury-Wodonga. That was fun, and maybe it will get me some local recognition; but really, I was performing for five people about 30 feet from the stage, and they loved it, so I'm happy.
Still got four ceremonies to go, then back off to Albury on Friday so no time to do Xmas cards or anything, so if you read this regularly:
Have a Snappy Happy and a Cool Yule
Hugs
Alexandra
# posted by Ruby Rose : 7:28 pm
