I'm writing because I can't bring myself to go to sleep yet. I've just gotten home from the showcase presentation of The Wicker Husband at The Other Palace and I must admit I may be slightly inebriated, although not so much that I can't still bash out an innaproppriate blog on the internet. It's been an extraordinary day, after an extraordinary week with an extraordinary bunch of dudes and dudettes working on The Wicker Husband.
It seemed almost a mad proposition. Rehearse the full 2 and a half hour show (including 32 musical numbers) in four days and then present it to the industry, friends and family and supporters. Our mentors George Stiles & Anthony Drewe pushed us hard to finish the show and I'm so glad they did. Mainly because I feel like now I can stop thinking about it for the next week or so. No scoring. No playing the guitar. No writing. No nothing.... Oh dear, I've just made myself a little depressed. No, not really. After an intense year of work on the show filled with progress labs, rewrites, late night calls to writing partners and directors, I'll be glad to put the lovely Wicker Husband aside for a little bit and do an Easter Egg hunt with my God Daughter this weekend. We did it, and it was done in the most remarkably stress free manner for me. I thought this week was going to be one of the most challenging of my life, but thanks to the incredible skill and talent of Charlie Westenra and Mark Aspinall, together with the dedication and hard work of an absolutely outstanding cast of performers, I found myself just sitting back and enjoying myself. Playing along with the marvellous musicians, listening to the cast, the director and MD bring the score and story to life. I'm not going to say too much more here as I'm suddenly extremely tired. Except to say a huge thank you to our wonderful cast: Tyrone Huntley, Anne Marie Piazza, Clive Rowe, Sebastian Torkia, Rebecca Trehearn, Jamal Andreas, Loren O'Dair, Roger Evans and Elexi Walker. They brought the characters to life with such vivid imagination and I can't thank them enough for their dedication to the show. To Charlie and Mark for their incredible skill in putting the whole thing together. To Lettie,Victoria, Martin and Sarah for putting the whole event together. To George and Ants for their wonderful mentorship. To Ursula Wills Jones for writing such a wonderful short story. Also to David Gregory for making everyone sound so great and to the whole team at the Other Palace. Most of all though my ultimate thanks goes to Rhys Jennings. A man who has become more than a friend and a writing partner. A person whose talent and skill I have watched grow and thrive over the last four years. Thank you for entrusting me with this story, thank goodness you decided to tell me about it in that pub in Oxford all those years ago. It's been a ride my friend. And after our partners have gotten us back for a while, let's keep on. You're a fricking legend.
0 Comments
Five years ago I was a wandering itinerant folk singer/songwriter/performer/theatrical nut, living on a dime and sleeping on the floor of my best friend's house. Seven months previously I had taken the somewhat drastic step of quitting my day job to pursue my dream of becoming a full time songwriter. I had saved up some money in my years working in administration and since I couldn't think of anything to spend it on, I decided to give myself a year and see if I could survive on professional performing and songwriting work. That year I earnt the princely sum of about £1400 from my first forays into the world of the professional songwriter. Interestingly enough they all came from theatrical contracts... consequently the £10,000 I had squirreled away over the previous 5 years was soon depleted to a small collection of nuts.
That money is gone forever, but I don't think I'll ever regret the decision to have a go at doing this for a living... because I feel like one of the lucky ones. It's been hard, at times I've lived on practically nothing, I've lived in hostels, I've toured shows for months on end but at the end of the day i get to do what I love almost every day now. Writing songs for shows. If I hadn't given myself that chance I think I would always have regretted it. I also would probably own a nice little house in Kennington... but hey. Of that £1400, the majority of it came from a project titled These Trees Were Made of Blood.
Director Amy Draper had been to Argentina a few years previously and had become fascinated by the story of the Madres de La Plaza de Mayo (The Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo). I didn't know it at the time, but when I was just a baby (and being encouraged to stick my fingers in electrical sockets by my big brother) in 1980 New Zealand, upwards of 30,000 people were being brutally tortured and "Disappeared" by their own government in Argentina. The Mothers of the Plaza De Mayo were mothers of the Disappeared. Their children were taken from clubs, from homes, from classrooms and subjected to horrific torture and murder by the right wing military state. They were detailned without notice, without trial and their very existence was denied. From 1978 - 1983 the population of Argentina lived under a terrorist state. Only the Mothers of the Plaza De Mayo were brave enough to speak out. They were ordinary women thrown into horrific and extraordinary circumstances. They were threatened with death and torture on a regular basis but they maintained their peaceful protest which eventually helped lead to international pressure and the eventual downfall of the military government. To this day, many do not know what happened to their children and they still march in the Plaza.
Amy found me whilst I was performing with my folk band in the foyer of the National Theatre, she was a friend of our singer Angie Fullman, who introduced us and suggested to Amy that I might be good to work with...
She must have liked what she heard as soon I had a conversation with her and I was offered one of my first professional jobs, to come along to a week of workshops at The BAC to write some songs for this show inspired by The Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo. I was excited and intimidated, Amy's instinct was to turn this story into a political cabaret. Many people I mentioned the idea to, said, "You want to do a cabaret musical about the murder and torture of 30,000 people? You're nuts. Good luck with it." But I thought there was something there. There was something so horrific, so terrible that it felt like words were not enough to do it justice. I could hear music in my head. A mixture of traditional Weimar Cabaret, Gyspy Jazz and Argentinean folk music gradually crept together in my tiny musical brain. I listened to everything I could get my hands on and then suddenly we were in a rehearsal room at the Battersea Arts Centre with cabaret artists, actors, singers and musicians and I had to write some songs... That's how my journey on this extraordinary project started. It is now five years since that first giddy experience, and I feel I have gained in experience and so I wanted to talk about how I approached writing the songs for a piece of "political" theatre. The show had a successful critically acclaimed sold out run at The Southwark Playhouse in 2015 when Producer Jim Croxford of Theatre Bench took a chance on an unknown, creative team because he believed in the story we were trying to tell. I know that for many people, politics can be very dry, but I think that it is only “dry” if it’s presented that way. A lot of people’s experience of political stories is through the news media, which (sometimes as a necessity) often overlook the intensely personal stories behind politics. For me, politics is all about heart. It’s about people and struggle. Yes, it’s about numbers and statistics but behind them are thousands of beating hearts. In some cases people struggling to exist even on the most basic level. And that’s why I think that watching so-called “political” theatre can be amongst the most powerful and deeply affecting experience that an audience can have. So when people said I was crazy to be working a show that essentially documented a mass state-sanctioned genocide, I thought the opposite. Where could the stakes be higher? This story seemed to me like the very story that needed music to tell it properly. That was all very well… but where to start? I’ve said that politics is all about heart. You have to dig deep through the stats to find the humanity underneath it all. This is sometimes difficult but I think it’s absolutely essential to creating a political show. You can’t just have a message or an opinion. You have to have a moving narrative that your audience can connect with. In this case Amy had decided that she wanted to focus on one mother’s story to find her Disappeared daughter and she wanted to set it all in a cabaret. Immediately the heart of the show was obvious. How would you feel if your only child was taken from you for unknown reasons, brutally tortured and murdered and then the perpetrators denied it? The first thing that suggested itself musically was the idea of a lullaby. What represents the closest connection between a mother and her child? A mother singing her child to sleep. I wrote a lullaby inspired by Argentine folk music called My Little Bird, that tells of a mother’s fears for her children. Eventually it also grew to represent the suppression of the state. But it all started with that most personal of song forms. The songs grew from that seed to become cabaret numbers that subverted and shocked, dark torture tangos, and defiant ballads.
One of the difficulties of political cabaret is there is a tendency to want to educate as well as entertain. Again the key is to make sure that any education is part of the narrative and connected to the heart of the story. This is easier said than done and I haven’t always been successful with it, but I’ve tried. If people are coming to the theatre they want to be entertained, they want to feel something extraordinary and woe be to the writer who doesn’t fulfil this basic want.
We are now in the final stages of being able to tell the story in the manner we have always felt it deserved. The Arcola Theatre is producing a new version of the show and it will be on this summer from June til July. But in order to make the work as good as it can be we need to raise some funds for the production. To this end we have launched a crowdfunding campaign to help... If you’ve enjoyed reading this blog (or indeed any of my blogs over the last years) then please do consider donating to the project by clicking the link below. Or if you can't donate share the blog far and wide with friends and family! Since that first job in 2012 I’ve had the good fortune to go on and write many shows, but the story of These Trees Are Made of Blood remains one of the most important and powerful stories in my mind. Please help us create the show we know it can be!
Given that it's Boxing Day I probably shouldn't have been working... but given that I'm me, I was. I think it's something that may be an attribute of those in the creative industries.. For me, a holiday is just a different place to do some work. In fact the ony difference between a 'Writing Retreat' and a 'Holiday' is that on one of them I should be working.
So what have we been doing with the Wicker Husband since the fateful day on the 18th May 2016 when we were fortunate enough to win the inaugural MTI Stiles & Drewe Mentorship Award. On that day, when Rhys and I stumbled up, in a slight state of shock to the stage of The Novello Theatre, we were completely unaware of exactly what we had won. In fact it turned out that our mentors weren't exactly sure either but the most encouraging thing about that day was when they said (and paraphrasing): GEORGE AND ANTS: "We have no idea how this is all going to work but we're going to find out together and it's going to be brilliant." The thing about the word inaugural is that it's one that is full of possibility. No one exactly knows what they are doing so what it becomes is an opportunity for everyone to make it what they WANT it to be... We are now almost at the halfway point of our year of mentorship and I thought it would be useful (particularly with the deadline for next years award coming up) to look back at how it's been so far and what we have left to expect for the future. After the competition event we got to speak to George and Ants at the reception which was lovely, I bought George a glass of wine. He initially offered to pay and I thought, "No, this is the perfect opportunity to start buying George Stiles friendship." Bear in mind that I would have attempted to buy Ants friendship as well but he seemed actively engaged in a real friendship with someone else... we had some very excited sentences about The Wicker Husband and the it's future and Rhys and I decamped to the pub with some fellow attendees (includng brilliant writers Tim Connor and Eamonn O'Dwyer) our partners and our director/dramaturg Charlie Westenra and just ate a massive pile of pie. The congratulations poured in on social media and and our egos were stuffed with external validation as our cheeks were filled with potato mash. A BRIEF HISTORY OF THE WICKER HUSBAND Prior to the award, we had been working on The Wicker Husband for about two and a half years, aside from our epic writing meetings we had completed; 1. A workshop at the Unicorn Theatre 2. Two weeks workshopping Act 1 at the RWCMD in Cardiif 3. A writing retreat in The Forest of Dean 4. A successful crowdfunding campaign to help fund our future work on the project. We had entered several awards including the MTI Stiles & Drewe Mentorship Award (winner), The Stiles & Drewe Best New Song Award (finalist), The Kevin Spacey Artist of Choice Award (finalist), The Jameson Bursary (shortlist), The Little Angel Incubate Programme (Winner) and had applied for the Dunedin Operatic Executive Trust Award (winner). The deadlines of which all helped us move the project a little further along... So now that we had the support of MTI, Stiles & Drewe and Mercury Musical Developments what was going to happen next? WORKSHOP AT GUILDHALL SCHOOL OF MUSIC & DRAMA (Not part of S&D Award) Our director Charlie had already set up a week of workshops at the GSMD to work with their 3rd year actors on the 2nd act of the show and we went straight into those workshops the day after the award. It was great to get straight back into the work so quickly, helping to focus on the fact that we still had a hell of a lot of work to do to make this into the piece we all believed it could be. The week was brilliant, the students incredibly insightful and talented and in the evenings there would be emails from Victoria Saxton and Lettie Graham with congratulations and instructions on what we all needed to do to move forward. Availability checks for the writing retreat and for an initial meeting with Stiles & Drewe were all put in the diary and so it all began. INITIAL MEETING At our initial meeting with George, Ants and Lettie (they were in rehearsals for Wind in the Willows at Jerwood Space) we discussed many of the practicalities of the award including budgets, what was being funded and how and a reasonable timeline for the whole year based around everyone's availability. Together with this work shadowing opportunities were mentioned and of course none of us could help discussing the show itself. It was a very exciting and reassuring meeting, it was clear that George and Ants were going to use their considerable skill to help us make the show we wanted to make. We made some suggestions and they were very open to negotiations and flexibility in the award.We came away from the meeting with dates in the diary and hearts full of possibility. It was clear however, that if we wanted to make the most of this incredible opportunity we would have to put our noses to the grindstone and work like dogs. At this point we started to think about the award as the backbone upon which we would base the next year of our work. Lettie and Victoria made it clear that they were happy to support us in applications for other funding which would enhance our ability to produce the best work possible. We used the prestige of the award to attract brilliant actors and musicians to the project, we also used the name and the budget to apply for an Arts Council Grant that would allow us to involve more people in the Progress Labs and the final Showcase. At the time of writing we have yet to hear from the Arts Council about the grant... we are hopeful... WORK SHADOW OPPORTUNITIES I asked George and Ants if there were any rehearsals for Wind in the WIllows that I might be able to attend, George came straight back with an offer to sit in on the orchestra trials at Mark Knopflers recording studio in Hammersmith. I jumped at the chance and arrived on the day, greeted outside by Lettie who saw me wandering off in the wrong direction and pointed me in the right one. Inside, George said a big hello and introduced me to all the incredible people working on the project including the two orchestrators, the fixer, the conductor and recording engineers. Desperate not to be a nuisance I plopped myself on the sofa in the live room and watched as George wandered around introducing himself to the musicians that he hadn't met in turn, humbly saying 'Hello, I'm George, I wrote the tunes.' I was given a score to follow as they worked their way through 'Spring' an incredibly thrilling piece of work, beautifully orchestrated. Every now and again they would stop and one of the orchestrators or George would make a small suggestion or change that would completely change the feeling of a bar. The attention to detail was outstanding and I learnt an awful lot about the difference orchestration can make to your show. I won't go on, but it was a pretty special day. WRITING RETREAT For those of you who have been following this blog, the next part of it was the writing retreat, which you can read all about in detail in earlier August/September entries. If you are considering applying for the award this year, do have a look. But for now, suffice to say that the experience was life changing and at the end of it I genuinely felt that I could add George and Ants as friends on the facebook machine in the safe knowledge that we had actually become friends and I no longer needed to buy that friendship with alcohol. That's certainly something that I didn't expect and is a tribute to the warmth of character of both George and Ants. They welcomed us into their home (including our director Charlie) and they made us feel like part of their theatrical family. The writing retreat is absolutely what you make it. There was no timetable aside from the one you decide for yourself. At the start of the week, the one thing that Ants said he would love would be to know that a new song for the show had been begun on the retreat. As it happened I wrote four new songs that week, but for everyone it will be different and they will be happy either way. You set your timetable, you work as much as you want and they will be there on hand to help you when you want it. As a general rule I worked down at my gite from 8 - 9.30am most mornings, walked up to Ants' house for breakfast for 10am, ate and chatted til about 10.45am then worked through til 1pm, had lunch for an hour, worked through until 7pm, had some dinner, some nights dinner went on until bed time and other nights I went back to work for a couple of hours, when Rhys was out there with me, we even continued working back at the gite til about 12.30am. All in all I'd say I did at least 10 hour of work a day. At the end of it I was exhausted but the show had improved exponentially, we had transformed some key song moments and I personally felt like I had greatly improved my knowledge of my craft. I definitely urge next years award winners to keep a diary of the week as it goes by really quick and the knowledge and advice comes thick and fast... plus I'd really like to learn everything that you learn! MERCURY MUSICALS DEVELOPMENT LAB This could easily be overlooked as a part of the Award, as it appears to be less grand than the grandness of the other things that the award brings with it, but I urge future winners to get stuck in to it. The opportunity to regularly present work to professional writing colleagues on a regular basis is such an important part of this award. Working with this generous group of professional writers has helped immensely in the development of the show, in a way it's like having a whole team of mentors, not just Stiles & Drewe who will help you come to understand your show. Once a month we have had the opportunity to present a piece of the show and get valuable feedback on it. Sometimes we present a song/scene, sometimes just a song and sometimes just a selection of scenes. We have also learnt an awful amount in listening and feeding back on our colleagues work which has been brilliant and a huge learning experience as well. ORCHESTRATION DAY (Not part of S&D Award) This was not an official part of the award but it was certainly influenced by it. George wrote to us with some brilliant advice before the day which I will publish on this blog (with his permission). We got a free space to use in Pimlico, organised by our wonderful percussionist Ruairi Glasheen who also arranged for some other players to come along (Jon - Dulcimer and Hedi - Bass), we also had a trio of fiddlers Philippa, Hannah and Loren and Josh on the accordion. We spent the day playing around with a few of the songs trying out different ideas. Then we had a couple of my singer friends come in and do some singing for us (Anne Marie and Laura). It was a great day, made all the better with George's words ringing in my ears, which, when distilled essentially said: "Keep the storytelling at the heart of your arrangements." Golden advice. As a result of everyone's generosity I came away with what felt like the authentic beginnings of the sound of the wicker husband. PROGRESS LAB 1 Some of you may have come along to this event at the Jerwood Space. We spent a good deal of time in the lead up to this casting the lab and getting a musical director for the day on board. On the day itself we had about 3 hours to put together the first 25 minutes of the musical... this was our choice. We consulted with George and Ants about what would be useful for other writers to see and what would be useful for us and we thought this section would be a good place to start. We really wanted to see how the narrative and songs were hanging together. With the help of George, Ants, Lettie and Victoria, Charlie did an incredible job of casting the lab for us and we managed to pull in some really high calibre performers including several West End leads which was a rea boost of confidence for us. But... it turns out that we bit off slightly more than we could chew! This section included five songs, two of which were massive ensemble numbers ('The Ugly Girl' and 'Will Ye Lend Me a Suit', two huge solo/duet songs 'My Wicker Man' and 'The Heart of the Weave' and an opening number for the Basketmaker 'Once Upon a Withy.') All in all about 20 minutes worth of music and three hours in which our brilliant musical director Theo Jamieson had to teach everybody some (as it turns out!) pretty complicated stuff. Add to that the fact that there were several scenes in between the songs and it really was a bit much to have attempted. I'm glad we pushed at it though as it means that we have a much better idea of what is realistically achievable for the 2nd lab which will take place on the 7th February and that we are working towards now. The lab had a panel of wonderful experts and of course the group in the audience were the Mercury Musical Developments writer community. It was so great to see a packed room and I was very happy to see a number of my writer and actor friends in the audience, with their friendly beaming faces there. In particular I was extremely happy to see two of my oldest friends (Angie and Charley) who wanted to come along and see the thing that I had been working on for so long. I would advise any writers to get at least a couple of your nearest and dearest along to this event as they provide the sort of reassurance that only ancient and deep friendship can give you. They remind you to believe in yourself and that no matter what happens, whether you fall on your face in the mud or get thrown up among the stars, they will still be there for you regardless and that's what is really important. THE FUTURE SO... that's where we are now. Writing, rewriting, consulting, rewriting again. Working towards the next parts of the award. We have set our goals in place for the remaining aspects of the award. In Progress Lab 2 we will aim to present the new opening number along with the crucial and problematic end of Act 1 which will be very useful. Based on the feedback we received from the first lab (which was in general very positive) we have been working hard on rewriting the opening scene to make sure that the problems we are going to be tackling in the show are very clear for all to see, as well as making the song better (I have never been entirely happy with it). Of all the songs in the show this one has had the longest genesis. It was the first song I wrote three and a half years ago and looking at it now, it has transformed completely (a couple of musical sections remain but the lyrics have undergone a total rework). And we are aiming to do a full reading of the entire show at the showcase in April with a band of folk musicians playing along. It's going to be a hell of a lot of work but we are excited by the possibility... Who knows what the future of The Wicker Husband will be following this incredible year of mentorship... but I do know that whatever happens it will remain the highlight of my career to date. So if you are thinking about applying but haven't quite finished your 1st draft, then I urge you (and your writing partner(s) to get your skates on... Rhys and I were working right up until the midnight deadline to get our application materials together, and we sent it in with a minute to spare. What a difference a minute can make. Apply for the award here: www.mercurymusicals.com/what-we-do/the-stiles-drewe-prize/ You can follow the progress of The Wicker Husband by clicking on social media links below: YOUTUBE I have recently passed my practical driving test at the grand old age of 36 (it turns out I’d forgotten about a year in my Facebook announcement). After my four month journey of learning from my instructor “Rod”, I realised that we had had several conversations relating to the similarities between writing and driving and so I thought I would note my thoughts on these down here, just in case it might inspire someone to: - learn to drive - write a musical So here are the things that I’ve gleaned… 1. Learn the Highway Code Before I started learning to drive, my instructor Rod told me I shouldn’t bother looking at the Highway Code until after I’d had my first lesson. “It’ll just go in and out of your brain because there’ll be no practical context for you to stick the information to.” It’s true. Once you’ve had a couple of hours out on the road, everything you’re reading about makes so much more sense. I think the same is true of writing. If you want to write musical theatre, then reading books about how to write musical theatre without actually writing something at the same time won’t be an efficient use of your time. If you take the time to read The Highway Code on it’s own it’s a bit heavy going full of rules and laws and principles, but as soon as you put it in the context of actually driving, you suddenly get a new perspective on it… it’s mainly a massive pile of common sense, but you don’t see that it’s common sense until you’re out there. Don’t get me wrong, I have read more books on how to write musicals, how to tell stories and how to write songs than I can count. But the important thing to remember is that they should only ever be a reference to the practical reality of writing. If a person knows The Highway Code backward that doesn’t mean they have any idea how to drive a car. You only get that by driving. 2. Check Your Mirrors When I started driving, I was awful at checking mirrors. Rod always used to say: “New road, new mirror.” I was also constantly reminded to check my mirrors whenever I stopped, whenever I moved off, whenever I changed speed or direction. When I first started learning, it felt like overload and I was constantly forgetting. What with the whole “trying to figure out how to drive a car thing.” But over time it began to seep in to my porous brain. Rod said: “Why do we look in the mirrors Darren? We look regularly because we are building up a picture of the driving landscape around us. So that if something unexpected happens, we can react to it in plenty of time. So that we can predict outcomes, so we can prevent tragedy.” We owe it to ourselves as writers to check our mirrors regularly, so that we can learn from the successes and tragedies of the past. And yes, we should check them when we change direction, we should check them when we accelerate off down a new creative road, we should look and see what people have done before us, and think about why they have done it. We should look in our mirrors to avoid tragedy… but… we must not fixate… 3. Dont Fixate When I was practicing my manoeuvres, I was determined to be the King of Maneouvres. No one would complete a left reverse with more skill, no one would turn in the road with more panache and no one would parallel park like me. I would be the Prince of Parallel Parking. I was so determined that I would remain the perfect distance from the pavement that my focus on the left drivers mirror was complete and total. I thought Rod, would be proud. I’d finally put all my focus on the mirror. As I was turning the corner. Rod said: “Don’t fixate Darren, don’t fixate.” Then a car zoomed past right in front of me. I was so obsessed with looking in the mirror that I had forgotten to look anywhere else. It was a shock. To me it seemed that the car had come out of nowhere, but Rod had seen it coming a mile away. I had stopped taking stock of the big picture, I had stopped building up a view of all that was going on around me and as a result I had nearly been whalloped. I think this applies to the writing process as well. The devil is in the detail they say, and I think this is true in more ways than one. By fixating on one aspect of our writing; a troublesome lyric, a perfect musical phrase, the perfect word for the perfect moment of dialogue, we can sometimes forget the larger story we are trying to tell. Then afterwards, we find that we have lost sight of our story and structure and whilst that one detail is perfect, our story is a steaming pile of munched up Nissan Micra on the road. The devil is in the detail because detail is hard, but it’s also there because of the temptation to fixate on it at the cost of the bigger picture. So yes, glance at the mirror, look at that detail, it's really important or you'll end up on the curb... but don't fixate! 4. Master the basics You need to know how things work in your car, how the clutch works and how the accelerator and braking systems work. They need to become second nature to you. This takes practice. The changing of gear, the use of engine braking, slowing down appropriately. These are things that the experienced driver does without even thinking. And some wouldn’t be able to tell you how they do it, they just know. The same is true of writing musicals. If you haven’t written a song before, then maybe don’t write a musical just yet. Just start with a song. Work on your songwriting until it becomes like second nature to you, then have a go at a ten minute independent drive. I was writing songs for years before it occurred to me that writing a musical was an option. So when it came to writing my first one about eight years ago, I knew I could at least write a half decent song. Of course in that first foray into musical theatre I had to begin to learn to write for character, for narrative and within an overarching structure which was way too much to take in on the first outing. I’m still learning and taking it all in after eight years of writing for the theatre, but I think I’m slowly getting better at it. Take your time to master those basics and the work will be the better for it. Also, every car you drive will be different. The biting point will be a little higher, the acceleration will be a little faster, the braking may be a little slower. You have to get to know each car you drive. Each musical you write will be different, just because you can drive one type of car, doesn't necessarily mean you'll be the immediate master of another. It takes time and intimacy and that's normal. 5. Be generous to other road users Sometimes you’re just waiting at a junction or a roundabout for ages as other drivers speed on through, they don’t indicate, they don’t let you in, they honk their horn in frustration. I think this can refer to two aspects of writing, collaboration within a project and cooperation within the wider writing industry in general. When writing a show, so much is dependant on successful communication between the collaborative partners. Even if you’re a triple threat (Book, Music & Lyrics) you still need to be able to communicate well with the director into whose hands you are placing your show, the producer who is organising everything, the actors who are performing it, the list is endless. So it stands to reason, be kind, be generous, but don’t be a pushover. Driving is about confidence and taking the opportunity when it presents itself. It is not about making other people do what you want them to by aggressive driving. An aggressive driver will dominate the driving landscape, but they will cause accidents and be a nuisance to other road users. A confident, generous driver on the other hand will be a benefit to all. So in terms of the wider industrial landscape, be generous. Support the new writers who love making musical theatre as much as you. Let them have the same opportunities that you have had. Let them know about competitions and introduce them to producers. Big them up when you can. Some of us are not so great at self promotion and we rely on our friends to do this for us… the industry itself will be far healthier as a result of cooperation and generosity. It’s really hard to do, I still feel jealous of other writers success and work, I still seethe with envy. But I make myself go to the work and it is ALWAYS worth it to see another writer succeed. It inspires, it gives you hope and it takes absolutely nothing away from your own success. It is a mutually beneficial act. 6. Just drive And of course the most important thing that Rod said to me, once I’d finally learnt how to use the road… “Just drive. You know how to do it. Now stop worrying about it and just get on with it.” It might seem like a baffling statement, but it's something that you hear fairly regularly of late in the stage press. I have read several instances over the last few years of writers who have principally made their names in other genres of theatre or music, starting an interview with this prophetic phrase. In a sense it's as absurd as saying "I absolutely despise the taste of brussel sprouts. That's why I'm making brussel sprouts for dinner." I think there is a disconnect here. The people who say such things are not phrasing their feelings in an appropriate way. I wonder if this is what they actually mean... "I have never seen a piece of musical theatre I have enjoyed, but I am fascinated by the idea of what a musical could be, so I am setting out to break the traditional form and write a new type of musical theatre for people like me to enjoy." Is this what you mean? Because "I hate musicals" doesn't really articulate that thought... and breaking the 'traditional form' has been done a thousand times over. It is extremely frustrating that people who have never written a piece of musical theatre (and profess in public to hate the form - or at least demonstate a profound ignorance about it) are being offered the opportunity to have their debut musical theatre work produced on a huge scale. They are given the support of enormous national organisations, huge budgets and years of development and yet after all of this generosity they still begin an interview with "I hate musicals.." To me, a dedicated musical theatre composer & lyricist, and when I say dedicated I mean the study and writing of it occupies the majority of my waking (and dreaming) hours, it feels like a real slap in the face from the theatre industry. It also demonstrates a dangerous,ignorant, slapdash approach to the production of such work from people who should know better. In what world would you give a chef who has only ever made deserts the opportunity to cook the main course in a michelin starred restaurant, when indeed, their opinion of 'The main course" is that it doesn't interest them, in fact that they hate it. It seems insane but this is what is happening right in front of our eyes. I understand the point of what these producers are trying to do and that is to be applauded. They are trying to innovate in the musical theatre form and inject it with new creative blood, blood that is not "tainted" with the history of Sondheim, Andrew Lloyd Webber and such. They are trying to create something fresh. That's great. But they ignore the lessons of history at their great peril. It is very possible to study, listen to and reference the incredible canon of musical theatre history and still create something ground breaking and new. Just look across the pond at Hamilton. There is absolutely no need to reinvent the wheel every time a musical is born. And people who think that is what they are doing, just need to look back a few years to find out that actually it has been done before, and it's been done better by people who really took the time to learn, study and love the pure craft of this most collaborative, exciting and versatile of art forms. I've said this before and I'll say it again. Innovation doesn't happen in leaps and bounds. It happens in tiny steps and just because we haven't bothered to look down at the steps, it doesn't mean that we aren't standing on them.. I think it's brilliant that artists from other genres are attempting to move into musical theatre because they are excited by its potential as an art form (I started out as a folk singer songwriter). I just wish those same people wouldn't jump out and say that fateful phrase "I hate musicals" before they have any idea of what they're talking about. Musicals are one of the most diverse of theatrical forms available to any artist (if you want to say there is only one type of musical, meet me for a pint and I will happily prove you wrong a hundred times over). To be able to say "I Hate Musicals" with any ring of truth to it, you would have to have seen every musical ever written. And I know you haven't. Because some of them are just being written now. Indeed, apparently one is being written by you... what will you say when it is finished? Will you still say "I Hate Musicals?" If so, then it sounds like you hate your own work and if that's the case... maybe stop? So please, whoever you are (and you know who you are) do yourself and the entire musical theatre industry a favour and stop saying it. All you are doing is denegrating the reputation of the art form, perpetuating a common misconception about musicals and proving yourself profoundly ignorant about the craft of something you are attempting to make. Go away. Study musical theatre with the kind of dedication it deserves if you plan to make it, and then, if you still hate it be my guest, tell the world. Shout it from the rooftops of Broadway. Let your hatred for musicals shine in your eyes with the power of the footlights! But once you've said it, don't you dare go away and try to write one. You are just insulting the rest of us. |
Categories
All
Categories
All
Archives
March 2024
Categories
All
|