My work here is done
12 12 2006Some time ago I was conned into signing up for the school “Stars in their eyes” concert. Thinking that a number of staff would be taking part, I wasn’t dreading it oh no, not at all. The Elvises, Meatloaves and Britneys of previous years had paved the way for me so I relaxed. I could just be the comedy act, the one who didn’t take it seriously, so I rested in the wings safe in the knowledge that I could deliver a half-baked and hammed up performance and get away with it.
But not any more. The competition has evaporated. Seems there is only one “mystery staff act” this year and as I look hopefully over my shoulder I find that all others have taken a step back. Then another, and the gathering cloud isn’t the dry ice of the music teacher’s concert - oh no, it’s created by the swift running feet of my colleagues as they exeunt, chuckling, into the distance. But I’m not afraid.
How bad can it be? Small village school, and I have a good reputation in this village. After all, pillar of the community and all that. How bad can it be? I just need to choose a song. An easy number, something that isn’t going to tax my extensive range of my vocal cords. Sinatra? Crosby? Nah the kids have never heard of them, I’d never get any votes. How about Rick Astley, always fancied myself as the guy in a suit crooning to the mike. Oops, giving away my 80s roots there. And same again - “Rick Who?” they’d say. Nope, what we need is someone with flair, panache, someone who’s a challenge to do. But with a voice that’s easy to copy.
Time dragged on. I left it and left it. Needed inspiration. Then one weekend I had a great time with my daughter and thought of….
….Sweet Child. Of mine. Yeah, how hard can it be? Axl Rose is just all hot air and leather trousers, when he’s not in a skirt. This is how I’d like to do it.
So 2 days ago I started practising. Hmm, seems I can’t move like I used to (no wonder, Fat Boy). And Mr Rose has a strange voice, how the heck can he do all those crazy notes and still be accurate? Why does he sound nice while I sound like a roomfull of strangled banshees? It’s just practice, that’s all.
So I did my first sound check tonight. I wasn’t impressed. The faulty equipment made my voice sound awful and I felt daft on the stage . Why can’t we get some decent electronic voice enhancers? What’s that - enhancers that strong don’t exist? Preposterous, I sound just fine in front of the telly.
Until tonight that is. As I’m practising my “moves” along with Axl and the boys, my voice starts to go. the caterwauling is quieter but, if such were possible, less tuneful. I have a new respect for Guns ‘n’ Roses even beyond their appropriate use of apostrophes.
But how much money have they made out of that song? It couldn’t have taken more than 10 minutes to write it if you take out the overblown guitar solos.
The crowning glory tonight was that my dulcet tones in the sound check at school (at oh so many decibels) enticed the SMT out of their meeting and they were dancing in the aisles. Oh yes, waving mock lighters in the air and dancing with their hands in the air. If my voice dries up and I fail completely, it was all worth it for this. If only I’d remembered the camera in my pocket.
Roll on Thursday. It’s no point even trying to turn up, the concert is a sell-out. Next year maybe.
Hi Dale, will you be podcasting your performance?
John, it’s kind of you to ask but I’m not sure the world is ready for it just yet. However, I was told today that our performing licence doesn’t cover teachers’ singing…how gullible I am. They saw my spirits lift - and then laughed when my face fell as they told me the show must go on. So tonight, Matthew, I will ruin Sweet Child of Mine.
I do have a secret weapon though. Tomorrow when he wakes, my son is going to be asking where his helium balloon has gone. “It was instrumental in Daddy’s master plan” I shall tell him. “I just can’t get the high notes without it”. Thanks Peter Kay. And thanks Nye for the balloon.
I hope Axl Rose doesn’t read this blog. I apologise now, Mr. Rose. They made me do it.
And so the concert ends. It wasn’t so bad after all. Once you’re on that stage, you can’t see the audience grimacing. They clapped, they sang along, they laughed politely. Nobody threw fruit. I got away with it, as long as I can destroy Frosty’s pictures.
Many thanks to the girls who had been coaching me to dance backstage. During my performance they were shouting “slide, slide” and other apt words of encouragement. Thanks too to those kind people who lent me items of clothing - Mr. Faichney for the genuine kilt (”Is that a Faichney tartan?”; “Och no, it’s an old Dunlop - they’ve been MacIntyres for years”. How droll). Slightly embarrassing that it goes twice round him but only once round me. That reminds me, thanks to Mrs. Lewis for the safety pins. Mr. Frost - where would I have been without the genuine Guns ‘n’ Roses shirt, emblazoned with various logos to add to the ambience, and for the boots but he still cut it a bit fine to bring said boots backstage for me to wear. It could have been Axl Rose does black brogues…
My family have suffered. They all know the words the That Song now, and the children are scarred for life to dance whenever they hear it. Rock Chick Rhiannon has developed a stroppy teenager streak (she’s 3 next birthday) and Nye is… well, Nye’s always Rock Solid. I salute them all.
People enjoyed the concert and awesome performances by the pupils left me stunned. How come there is just so much talent in this tiny village?