A Way Back to Then

Remember a time

Before you’d ever even been to Broadway

New York was just a place

Across the ocean

Far away

It may as well have been the moon

And musicals were accessed via cast recordings

Played on CD (and cassette!)

Repeated so often you knew

Every inflection

Pause and intonation

And then you’re sitting in the

Lyric Theatre, London

And Trevor Ashley

Australian performer

Who taught musical theatre at State Music Camp

And performed at Schools Spec

Is performing his Liza show

He is brilliant

The camp and the sass and the deadpan humour

Meet moments of utter sincerity

That make a caricature of Liza

(Though the portrayal is so spot on

It's more real than play) 

Human 

You remember

State Music camp and

Being around other people who

Got it

You performed ‘Over the Moon’ from RENT

(Which you had learnt by heart

By listening to the recording

Over and over til you got it right

Moo)

(And your friend

Gave you your first standing ovation

Lept to his feet when you finished moo-ing)

It was thrilling to sit in chairs around the piano

Holding sheets of music

And singing the songs

You had listened to

And already knew by heart

And all that jazz

And you remember all your teachers

Mrs Harrison and Mrs Ross

Mrs McAndrews

Mrs Stevenson, Miss Lorschy, Mrs Martinotti, Mrs Turner

Mr Harrison, Miss Boyle, Miss Richards (theatre etiquette!), Miss Paris, Miss Simone, Mrs Page, Mrs Stewart, Mr Kelso, Mrs Miltiades, Mrs Miller, Mrs Cull

George, Andrew, Gina, Frank, Kane, Ste, Christine

The ones who believed in you and gave you a chance

And if you could tell your fifteen year old self

You get to do it!

You go to New York

Broadway is real

You study musical theatre in London

You live in a houseful of actors

You learn for real the phrase

“Starving actor”

It’s not just about hunger and being poor

You need to perform and write and play music and tell stories

And when you don’t

You get really depressed

And even though it’s hard

It’s incredible

There is no other life you can lead

The Tony Awards are real

You actually go, twice

Get all dressed up

And sit in the rafters

And watch your childhood heroes

Make their acceptance speeches

You see Idina Menzel in concert (twice)

You see her rehearsing!

You see Marvin Hamlisch conduct the London Symphony Orchestra

In a medley from A Chorus Line

You see Liza in concert

You see Trevor as Liza in concert

And it takes you back to 15 year old you

Who wants nothing more than

This life

And you say

Hold on

You’ll get here

The end. 

New York, New York

Oh, New York, New York!

In one year from today we will live together 

You and I (and my love) 

And we will eat delicious foods

And be a part of wonderful theatre

And walk down your myriad of streets

And travel in your subways 

And marvel at your architecture

Just three short days this trip

Three shows - two Broadway, one off-

The remarkable talent to strut across the stage 

Stories told through song and dance and music

The sort of irony

That each show I’ve seen this time around

Strongly references/is set in

The UK 

Tomorrow I fly back across the Atlantic

But first,

Tonight, Matilda

To see a show I’ve seen

A hundred times before? 

Literally

Over six months 

In London

Eight shows a week

The routine of front of house

Bruce’s scene

Time to get ice creams for interval 

Counting money and re-stocking ice creams

During Mr Wormwood’s song about telly

And the swings

Back inside in time for 

Miss Honey to wander forlornly and to see

The acrobat and the escapologist! 

Revolting children the cue to 

Get out to the kiosk before the ensemble comes tearing out to change in the corridor 

Ready to be Russians 

When I grow up reprise

The cue to have the merch ready

For the outgoing

Tonight

I am just another patron

The thrill of being seated next to a friend 

From the other side of the world

Six years since we have seen each other? 

A total wonderful coincidence 

The lights grow dim

The opening is slightly different

No school bell

The orchestrations are ever so slightly changed

A slightly longer beginning

The tempos are different

The opening seems slower 

The parents’ singing more articulate 

The chokey song

Definitely slower, perhaps even by half

The set and costumes are the same

With minor adjustments

The fabrics more shiny 

More glitzy for Broadway

The wall of the Wormwood’s living room

A shiny green

The ducks seem bigger

Matilda’s bedspread, not just plain blue

It has texture

Some costume pieces are lined with glittering sequins 

The school desks are imprinted with letters on the inside

The chalkboard is enormous 

The English accents are excellent 

The show translates well

The laughs are big

The audience is very receptive 

And yet at interval

I’m shocked to discover the people around me are lost

Two patrons ask me what is going on

They can’t understand it 

I can’t understand them

In the second half the man across the aisle is bored and reading messages on his phone 

I want to punch him in the face 

At the end of the show

Standing at the stage door

I meet an aspiring actor

He is 17

He is auditioning for 19 drama schools in the fall

He has no idea what he is in for 

(Maybe, MAYBE, I should take everything I’ve learnt, and, and put it in a show!)

The fact that he has 19 drama schools available to him to audition for makes me laugh

Back in my day

Where I come from

We only had three drama schools to audition for

And only two had a musical theatre program

I love being in New York

I love walking through Times Square

It is everything I’m against 

With it’s blatant commercialism 

And wasteful energy consumption

And tourist-filled seediness 

And lack of trees

And yet I love the damn place 

I love seeing shows here

I love the quintessential New York smell that is hot pretzels and air conditioning vents and hot concrete and subway all mingled together 

I love the multitudes of people 

(And another hundred people just got off of the train)

Who come from EVERYWHERE to be 

HERE

I love that the Bronx is up

And the Battery’s down

I love that there are a million songs about New York

That get stuck in my head as I walk its streets

And they capture perfectly how I feel about the place 

(Oooooh, New York! Living in a town that is famous as a place of movie scenes...)

I love the people I can meet here

I love the pulse/vibe/energy

It is always alive

Never for a moment quiet or resting 

New York, New York

It won’t be long now 

The end. 

Climbing Uphill

View from the Pyranees, 2013

You slog uphill
Drill notes
Please memorize
Count
Project! 
Energize to the end of the line
Trying to get a long and tricky piece together
With limited rehearsal
And you think it could never come together
Was it this hard last year?
You just about give up
And then suddenly
"Suddenly"
The day before the show
There it is!
Harmonies rich and full
Soaring and lovely

And before you even realize it
The performance is over
And the relief
The weight off your shoulders
The view of
The shining happy faces of kids who have felt the spotlight
Known what it is to rehearse
And stand before other people
And sing/dance/act/play
(Often at the same time!)
Is worth
The uphill climb it took
To get there

The end.

Liza Minnelli

I didn't allow myself to get excited
Her reputation
Precedes her
Canceling, forgetting lyrics, swallowing words
But tonight
In her signature sparkling black top
That shimmered and reflected light
And almost seemed to be electricfied
Liza Minnelli
Was radiant

Her speaking voice
Is not just breathy
It's breathless
She seems barely able to string a sentence together
And then she sings
Sure the top notes aren't quite there anymore
But the richness in her voice
The undeniable "Liza" tone
The timbre so full
So present
It's phenomenal

They talk of
Living legends
And truly
She is one

In just under two weeks
This living legend will be 67
She's frailer than she used to be
Apologized for sitting for much of the concert
But the audience didn't mind
When she sang, honestly
Magic happened
She seemed somehow younger
The way she can tell a story through song
Transport you worlds away
With her voice
The simplest gesture
The audience erupted after
Every single number
And the applause wasn't gratuitous

In the same way that her mother
Never escaped the rainbow
Liza will never escape the cabaret
But you get the sense
She's happiest there
It's where she grew up
It's where her family,
Literal and accumulated,
Come from
And her gratitude to the audience
Felt genuine and real

The final encore
Every single person was already on their feet
And it was just
Liza in a spotlight
Singing acapella
The hush that fell over the crowd
Oh, that voice!
And right before the final note
A whispered
Thank you
And the audience melted
Audibly gasped
And we cheered in response
And Liza bowed
And walked into the wings

The end.

A Chorus Line

I first saw A Chorus Line when I was ten years old. It was the first musical I ever saw live. We had a spare ticket and I remember standing outside the theatre with Mum trying to give the ticket away. We ended up giving it to a lovely lady who had to find a pay phone to tell someone at home she would be late. The next thing I remember is sitting in the theatre, the lady offering me some chocolate, and then the theatre going pitch black. I grabbed Mum's hand because I was scared. The opening refrain, the mirrors shimmering into view, and then, "A 5-6-7-8!" I was transfixed, transported, and utterly sure of what I wanted to do when I grew up.

How does a ten year old from Sydney's leafy North Shore resonate with a musical about struggling dancers in New York? What was it that grabbed me? The swearing and many of the stories went way over my head. I liked Diana. I liked her because the girl playing her had been my Mum's student. I also liked her because she had a good monologue, and because I too was not genetically disposed toward bobsleds. I liked the "tits and ass" girl because she was blunt and straight forward and no nonsense, (Years later I was walking down Park Ave in NYC, and the line "Park and 73rd" kept ringing in my ears, and it cracked me up when I realized where it was from. Is the Good Doctor still working to take flat chested dancers from chorus girl to star? How does my feminist grown-up self feel about that character now?). I also liked "the ballet song" because I was doing ballet then, and when they sang it, I knew the smell of the rehearsal room, the feel of the barre, the narrow stairway, yes everything was beautiful at the ballet (even though I personally struggled because I didn't pick up choreography quickly, and though graceful "with lovely ballet hands" I was somewhat uncoordinated and awkward, no it wasn't paradise...). And I got it. I even used to dance around the living room. I also related to the tales of broken homes and divorced parents and escaping to ballet/performance as a means out. 

And as I grew up and listened, and re-listened, and listened again, to the cassette of the cast recording, the music changed and meant different things. Suddenly I was twelve, and thirteen, and unsure. Still, I knew I wanted to be a performer. I had the drama teacher that made me feel "nothing". I was short. I had no boobs. I actually lived the knee injury bit. Had a doctor tell me I would never dance again. What happens when you can't perform anymore? You crawl into a ball and suffer through depression for two years, and don't come out until you start performing again. 

And then I wanted to get married and live in the 'burbs and have a stable life. And then the stupid boy broke my heart, and changed my life because I was so mad at him, and so heartbroken that I had no choice but to pursue my original dream. While training I saw Donna McKechnie perform live, the woman whose voice I had listened to a million times. Give me somebody to dance for! The woman is in her seventies and she's still got it. I saw Marvin Hamlisch (may he be resting in musical theatre heaven) conduct the London Symphony Orchestra playing a medley of songs from A Chorus Line. And I gave up everything I ever knew to move across the world to study at a crazily expensive school, have my self-esteem torn to shreds, and be told I should "reconsider" this career choice. But you have this little persistent voice inside your head that says I DON'T WANT TO AND CAN'T DO ANYTHING ELSE. THIS. IS. IT. And sometimes you just have to ignore the naysayers and the statistics and the struggle that is auditioning and putting yourself out there and honing your craft and praying "Oh, god I need this job!" Not just for money, but for my soul. 

So it's no secret that I'm emotionally invested in this show. For me, A Chorus Line is THE show. It's the reason I became a performer. It's the reason I'm obsessed with musical theatre. It's the inspiration that keeps me going. And tonight, seeing it performed to almost utter perfection in London was astonishingly wonderful, inspiring, and uplifting. 

The end. 

Cool Runnings

contemplating a run...

On Sunday
Kerry Ellis
Musical theatre star and beltress
Tweeted about running in the cold
And how it hurt
But she did it anyway

To be honest
The cold puts me off
From running
My Aussie self is afraid of it
I'd had an unwritten rule
Though loudly spoken
I would not run when it was colder than
8 degrees celsius (46 fahrenheit)
Because let's face it
No one likes running
And feeling like your nose will fall off
Or spending most of the run trying to be warm

But, if
Kerry Ellis
Musical theatre star and beltress
Maintains a running schedule
Even in the bitter cold
Then
Luisa Lyons
Aspiring musical theatre star and beltress
Must maintain a running schedule
Even in the cold

And today
With the mercury barely meeting 2 degrees celsius
I rugged up
I donned thermals and a beanie
I plugged in my headphones
And I went running

It was cold
There was still snow in the park
But I ran
And it felt good!
The breathing stopped hurting
The air stopped feeling so brisk
I ran 4km

And running past the unmelted snow
Was delightful

The end.

Repeat

There is something comforting in the fact

That every day

A show is being performed

The people are singing

Masquerades are on parade

Children are revolting

Somewhere around the world

The story of a boy band is being told

In neat

Introduction, climax, denouement form

With feel good songs

And slick choreography 

Every day

The performers are singing and dancing

The costumers re-hanging shirts and wigs and dresses

The stage hands striking and re-setting props 

And getting ready to do it all again

No show is ever the same twice

The audience is always different

Sometimes a line is dropped

A prop forgotten

The cast slightly shuffled

And every day

There is someone in the audience

Watching it all for the first time

Laughing, sighing, gasping

And walking out of the theatre

Feeling happier

Feeling uplifted 

And I get to meet that someone 

Eight times a week

And I get to watch it all

Eight times a week

And feel comforted that 

Every day a show is being performed. 

The end. 

What do you do with a BA in English?

Sitting in my robes in Royal Festival Hall
Graduating with a Masters
I feel like I'm six years old playing make believe
The robe keeps slipping off my shoulders
The ridiculous hat keeps sliding down my forehead
It doesn't feel real
This past year. I still can't quite put it into words.

I thought that with my Masters
I would be amazing,
But I still don't feel like I am.
I still can't belt an E
I have worse stage fright now than when I started
I want to be brilliant yesterday
I want to be wonderful super fantastic coolness remarkable
Right now!
What does it mean exactly to "have potential"?
What do they see that I, still, after all this, can't access?

What do I want to be when I grow up?
I want to be Mary Poppins and Maureen Johnson and Miss Honey
I want to sing and dance and act and write
What I really want is to play roles I've written myself
Perform my own material
I want to travel
I want own my own house
I want to live in the same continent as my love
I want to sing and be able to write good music
I want the praise of my superiors and my cohort
I want to feel accepted
I want to be happy within myself and proud of my own achievements

What do you do with a BA in English (/History)?
You travel the world
You fall in love
You have visions of living in happily married bliss on the leafy north shore
And you have your heart broken
And you re-assess
And you say "fuck it".
And you leave everything you know and move to a whole other country
Where everything is the same but different
And you deny that you're experiencing culture shock because you are already
Widely Traveled
and Older than the average student
And have Life Experience

But really, you're still young
You're still at the beginning
Even though actually you're already part of the way
And actually,
No one knows what is next
No idea.
It's what makes people scared, greedy, snide, arrogant
Everything
Because none of us knows what is next
Yes we can dream, we can plan,
VITAL!
But actually, we have no idea
It doesn't scare me
(actually it does, but, in this moment, it's liberating)
I can do whatever I choose.

The Principal of the School at Graduation
Do something every day that scares you
Today, again, I choose to blaze a trail of my own
To remember to stop looking around me and totally freaking out that the other peoples paths look better or different to mine
In the words of Elle Woods
I've got to find my way 
In the words of Sondheim
It's our time, breathe it in, worlds to change and worlds to win

What do you do with a BA in English (/History)?
You get an MA in Music Theatre,
You take a deep breath
And -

Die Vampire, DIE!!

People have been asking "How London is going?" It’s wonderful. It’s exhilirating. It’s exhausting. It’s one of the toughest things I’ve ever done. The past few weeks have been a slog and I confess I’ve been rather down. Every day has been filled with self-doubt, worry that I’m not good enough, and much self-despising talk inside my head. What am I doing here in the middle of a recession training for a career where there are minimal job prospects and ridiculously tough competition? I’m here for love. Because nothing else makes me happier. And knowing that there is nothing else on earth I’d rather be doing, I meditated. I listened to musicals. I journalled. I read inspiring blogs. I watched inspiring videos. I obsessively followed Seth and Sharon. I talked with friends and loved ones. I channeled some [Title of Show] goodness and I told that little bitch of a voice inside my head “DIE VAMPIRE, DIE!!!!” Being a musical theatre actress may be scary to some people. At times it is even be scary to me. And facing my demons in possibly the scariest thing I will ever do. But facing them with spirit fingers, and shiny dances, and all-singing, all-technicolour glory is exactly how I want to do it. This Halloween, I'm dressing as the thing that frightens me the most. Myself. And I'm going to make like Buffy and kick some vampire-inner-demon butt. The end. 

I Could Write A Book

And it's nearly 1am
And you're wired
Because you've spent the last seven hours reading about musicals in Australia
And you're a bit frustrated because you can't access all the journals you need to
And the more you read the more you want to know
And every now and then you have "ah ha!" moments
And you feel like you get it and it all makes sense
And then you re-read your notes and realize you need more material to back up what you're thinking
But you have a mighty list to go and tackle the British Library with tomorrow
And that makes you so excited
Because you love learning and reading and theorizing and trying to make sense of it all
And you're really grateful you did that podcast thing last year
Because you have all these quotes and useful bits and pieces up your sleeve
And your sensible self tells you to GO TO BED ALREADY!
But your inner writer needs to VENT!
And your soul needs to calm down because it's so excited
So you promise that NOW you will go brush your teeth, and meditate, and journal, and sleep
To start all over again tomorrow
The end.

Idina and Marvin

Imagine you are ten and you dance around the living room with your arms up like this and suddenly you are a grown up living in the city where Mary Poppins comes from and you are sitting in Royal Albert Hall, which is very beautiful, and very big, even for a grown-up. And Marvin Hamlisch, who is the man who wrote A Chorus Line, the first musical you ever saw live, the first musical where you felt that little tingle in the bottom of your stomach telling you, “Oh! That’s what I want to be doing!”, walks out onto the stage which has a full symphony orchestra sitting on it, and he walks up to the podium and all the people in the audience cheer. And he raises his baton, and the people with the instruments know which notes to play and they are the notes to the opening of the song “One” from A Chorus Line. And you hear that familiar refrain and you suddenly feel a bit teary because there is Marvin Hamlisch conducting one of the pieces he wrote, which happens to be from your first proper musical, and here you are in London studying musical theatre and sitting in Royal Albert Hall! 

And a little while later Idina Menzel floats onto the stage in a beautiful white ball gown with a black sash. And she sings “I’m not that girl” from Wicked, and Cole Porter and Lady Gaga and she tells the story about being cast in a little off-Broadway show called RENT and how on the night of the dress-run the writer Jonathan Larson died unexpectedly of an aneurism and she sings a lovely version of No Day But Today and oh god it makes you cry. And your friend passes you a tissue. And then Idina sings For Good acapella and that is very good too. And outside the theatre you get to meet Sir Tim Rice. And he is a very friendly chap. And you can’t quite believe that the man responsible for many of the lyrics that you have sung, listened to, heard over and over since time began, is standing in front of you smiling and shaking your hand and introducing himself as “Tim”.

And then you go and share pizza with a new friend who you met in the audience, and she is lovely. And you float home on London’s wonderfully efficient public transport system and you think “oh my! What a week this has been!” Because the day before you saw a concert at the Barbican where the BBC Symphony Orchestra played a new score as live accompaniment to an old silent film from the 1920s. And it was utterly magical to be transported by an old film made over seventy years ago and even more magical to watch a full symphony orchestra play a delicious score. 

And earlier in the week you were in NYC. And last week you saw two brand new musicals. And you were a guest presenter on your favourite podcast. And in the midst of it all you get to go to school every day to learn more about musicals and be with lovely people who share your joy and your passion and your fun. And you feel very blessed to be surrounded by all this culture, this music, these wonderful people. And you walk home and the moon is shining and the stars are bright and the air is chilly and fresh, and you say, thank you thank you thank you to the powers that be for allowing me to live this life enchanted.  And you crawl into bed at 1.40am and fall asleep smiling. The end. 

Beyond My Wildest Dreams

There once was a little girl in Sydney

And she used to dance around the living room

And it never occurred to her that she wanted to do anything else but be an actress 

But other things got in the way

Like school and boys and 

Other People’s Expectations About What Is A Good and Proper Life 

And so the girl went on her way

And skipped through life

And soon found she was very sad

Because she wasn’t doing what her heart told her she needed to be doing 

And one day she said, “Ohmygod, enough!”

And she packed her bags and hopped on a plane

And found herself on the other side of the planet

And traveling in peak hour and crammed into the tube

With all the three piece suits and briefcases

And people commuting to offices

And the girl thought, 

“These poor unfortunate souls!”

How many of them get to do what she does everyday?

Run around a room and play games and sing songs 

And dance 

And Live The Dream 

Dear People! 

It’s okay to live your dream! 

Why hold onto those doubts all those worries?!

If I don’t I just know I’ll turn back

I must dream of the life I am seeking

I am seeking the courage I’ve lacked

The courage to live life without reliance 

Face my mistakes without defiance

Show them I’m worthy,

And while I show them

I’ll show me! 

Because it IS so exciting

To be out in the world to be free

My heart IS wildly rejoicing

There is nothing the matter with me! 

I made a choice to be happy 

To let go of the angst and the pain and the worry

And I made a choice to go out into the world

And do whatever it is I’m meant to be doing

And hey world, here I am. 

A little girl from Sydney living in London

Spending her days learning all things musical

And it is wonderful.

The end. 

It's a Wonderful

And people are here from all over the planet speaking all their myriad of languages and think of all the hours worked to get here all the emotional upheaval all the planning the working the wishing and praying and suddenly you are there in Times Square and your heart just sings at it all and your inner child is practically climbing up your inner organs and screaming dear Lulu! THIS IS WHERE WE BELONG! OH HOW I LOVE IT HERE! And your adult sensible self thinks, oh god. New York?! Times Square?! It is grimy and full of advertising and pandering to mass consumption and the massive energy use of the place and the people everywhere. And surely this is not paradise! But oh my! Another hundred people! NYC with all your shiny lights and endless billboards and theatres on every corner and crowded streets and vendors selling hot dogs and pretzels and the stands with the men selling prints of paintings of the shiny lights and endless billboards and theatres on every corner and crowded streets and vendors selling hot dogs and pretzels. And everywhere you look is a sign advertsing a show! And theatre is number one! And you’ve just come from a Broadway show and here you are walking down Broadway to the subway at 42nd Street and it is wonderful! It’s true what they say, the Bronx is up and the Battery’s down and the people ride in a hole in the ground, New York, New York, it’s truly wonderful brilliant amazing makes your heart and soul sing! 

Leaving Oz

Imagine a girl who wakes up one day to find herself on a plane. And she is somewhere over the Pacific. And she thinks perhaps the events of the past year and a half have only been a dream. Because suddenly it all seems right to be flying in the air towards a new life, heading towards a life of musicals and theatre and being away from the place where she was born and grew. 

And even though this is her third trip away, this trip feels different from the trips before, because now she has the Scarecrow and the Tinman and the Lion by her side. In the past year and a half she has acquired a little more wisdom. She did the meditation course and sometimes it was hard but mostly it was wonderful and she learnt to sit quietly with herself and be still. 

And even though her heart had been shattered into a million thousand pieces, she realised that she had all these wonderful friends around her (And you were there! And you were there!) and she learnt to look after herself and take care of herself which were all very important. And it was heartening to make all these discoveries. 

And in discovering she had a little more wisdom and a little more heart than before, she discovered she had the courage to go out into the world as herself and not be afraid of what other people thought or said or how often they projected their own fears about the creative life onto her being. 

And she made a promise to herself that she would continue to practise as often as possible to have wisdom and heart and courage and remember her friends by her side and to go out into the world and trip the light fantastic.

The end. Sort of. 

It's a Jolly Holiday with Mary

So it seems Mary Poppins is taking over my world.
I'm seeing her everywhere.

A couple of weeks ago I discovered her in my local park.

Last week I saw her at the Capitol Theatre.

That night I even got to shake Mr Banks’ hand (well really it was Philip Quast, who is even cooler, and it is lovely to meet people from your childhood, people who unknowingly sang and danced into your loungeroom and heart and soul every afternoon on Playschool). 

And then Mary’s image appeared on banners all over the city.

And then this week I heard an interview on Margaret Throsby with Valerie Lawson who is P.L. Travers’ biographer. 

And then tonight walking down George St (how apt!) I discovered that Town Hall has become Number 17, Cherry Tree Lane! 

Hallo, hallo, hallo! What have we here then?!

Chimney sweeps and umbrellas lit with fairy lights tumbling out of Town Hall! 

And the night was crisp

And the air was fresh

And it made me smile

Because anything can happen if you let it

Town Hall is transformed for the official Opening Night of "Mary Poppins", Sydney

The three (seriously happy) sisters and Philip Quast

Jason Robert Brown

And one day you find yourself in a theatre surrounded by a bunch of avid theatre nerds and you are all there because in time and space you have sat listening to the original cast recordings over and over and some of you have performed in amateur productions of his shows and the music is what gets you. And although it is not a large venue, it is entirely intimate and you can hear his breath and the plosive p’s and b’s and t’s and feel the pressure of his pinky hitting the top notes of the piano. And he excudes so much energy so much passion so much life as he plays and sings the songs you know so well but suddenly tonight they are new because the brain that wrote them is performing them in front of you and you wonder how he can possibly still be sitting with all that energy surely he must be floating surely the way he taps his foot so insistently that the whole auditorium can hear it feel its pulse surely he must need to stand but his back is straight and there he is sitting playing the piano and singing. And he is utterly marvellous. The way the music is driving and full of vigour but the lyrics are melancholy and funny all at once and the whole room is transported to intimate worlds far away in the land of America but still so familiar it could have been your own living room. You have had that conversation. You have had that heart break. You have felt that loneliness. You have shared that laugh. The magic of watching the craft come to life. Feeling like you are there as he writes the notes the chords the lyrics  the song is created in front of you before your eyes inside your very ears. And all there is is a piano a microphone and a man in a spotlight. And it is lovely. It is breath-taking. It is music. The end. 

Part of It All

There is a song in the musical [title of show] called "Part of It All", in which the two leads Hunter and Jeff sing about wanting to be a part of the buzz, excitement, inevitable post-show blues, and life that is show business. And it is lovely when you are in the midst of it, and feeling exactly part of it. When you spend your days singing and dancing and fluting and running to the theatre and from rehearsal to rehearsal and you go to sleep dreaming about inversions and chord progressions and you spend your nights covered in white paint and hair gel and glitter and the thrill buzz excitement of being in front of an audience. And you wake up ready to start all over again. And if that is being part of it all, I love it with every inch of my being. 

The Life I Lead

to dance around the living room

to watch cyd with her legs up to eternity flirt with gene

who danced in the rain laced with milk

so it would be more visible on camera

to watch yul and deborah

one-two-three-and across the royal palace of what is now Thailand 

but used to be called Siam

etcetera etcetera etcetera!

to have tea with jam and bread on the mountains of austria

maria and mary are your nannies

julie is magical because she sings and dances and appears in two different movies with different coloured hair and rescues the children of europe and england from their sad fathers

just a spoonful of sugar and imagination and pop into the pavement to win races

singing makes everybody happy 

even retired grumpy sea captains

yes sir!

to want to be a part of that world

to be a strong princess

to be like barbara and fiercely independent and capable

just leave everything to meeee

hello dolly, hello dolly, it’s so nice 

to one day find yourself transported

from the land of oz to the rooftops of london 

and all you have to do is click your shiny red shoes together

and wish and pray your life could be enchanted

the end. 

Melbourne

image from ineedaholiday

Once upon a time yesterday there was a girl called Lulu who liked musicals very much. She liked them so much that one she decided to fly all by herself from Sydney to Melbourne to see some new musicals. So she booked her ticket and off she went. When she got there she was very excited because her hostel was right by the river and in walking distance to Federation Square and the Melbourne Arts Centre, which are both very lovely. 

After walking down by the riverside and admiring all the pretty sculptures lining the riverbank, Lulu took herself to the Australian Centre for the Moving Image to see the current exhibition, “Dreams Come True: The Art of Disney’s Classic Fairy Tales”. Lulu spent a few happy hours wandering the halls of the exhibit, admiring how clever the people at the Disney Studio were and still are, and getting a little bit teary at all the lovely princess stories and remembering just how much they are a part of her psyche, even if her university educated feminist self says that the messages they espouse are a little bit dated. The critical part in Lulu’s mind also wondered about the stories not being told in the exhibit, for example, why/how/when did the Walt Disney Brothers Studios become just the Walt Disney Studios. Lulu remembered from her university days that there is a lot of story being told in what is purposefully left out, and she made a mental note to investigate it further later on. 

Then Lulu made a mad dash for the Melbourne Arts Centre, which was luckily just a hop, skip, and a jump across the river. She collected her ticket, and went downstairs into the Fairfax Theatre to watch Program One of Carnegie 18, a new musical theatre development program. In short, it was utterly wonderful (if you would like to hear the longer version of this part of the story you will need to keep an eye on Flusical for Episode 6: Carnegie 18). Lulu laughed, cried, held her breath, and was filled with utter excitement at the high level of talent, and the wonderful new works on display. In the interval she met a lovely lady named Jan, who happened to be the editor of Australian Stage Online, the newsletter in which Lulu found out the London Central School was holding Sydney auditions. Lulu thanked Jan profusely for changing her life for 2011, and with much discussion about musicals and Australian theatre to be had, Lulu and Jan sat above the river eating wicked but utterly delicious treats.

In the late afternoon, Lulu was lucky enough to interview Vanessa Pigrum, the Artistic Director of Carnegie 18, for Flusical. Vanessa was very lovely, and Lulu was left feeling inspired and ready to take on the world. The second program of Carnegie 18 was equally as exciting and moving as the first program, and Lulu was particularly taken by the new opera about netball. She had no idea that the drama of netball could be so fitting for an opera. Or that sopranos could be so funny. 

By now the sun had set over Melbourne, and while most other folk were watching the tennis, Lulu made back for her hostel. Sitting in the kitchen writing up her notes for the day, Lulu had a wonderful conversation with a Canadian traveller. They talked about politics and nations and the state of the world and indigenous affairs and national identity. It was very lovely, and it was only when the kitchen was closed for the night did the conversation come to an end.

Four hours later Lulu was back at the airport, and by now she was very tired from her grand adventure and severe lack of sleep. Thankfully adrenalin and inspiration were abundant, and helped her to stay awake throughout the day so she could work, edit the next episode of the podcast, and write about her adventures. And then she collapsed into bed to dream about all things musical. 

The end.