“Ruby, you have to sing out!” It was late on a Saturday night. The rock opera band was rehearsing in a rundown makeshift studio on the second floor of a car repair shop and tensions were running high as opening night drew close. I was going through my usual bouts of insecurity, being surrounded by all the pros, and two other very gorgeous back-up singers who were way more sure of what they were doing or at least pretended to be as such. We were actors after all. Also, by that time, my crush for Brad had developed into full-fledged this-is-a-guy-I-definitely-need-to-have-to-get-close-to. I was feeling the fear, and the lack of confidence that seemed to rear its ugly head every time I was in the presence of greatness. Brad was great. The band was great. The girls were great. I was the weak link, trying to get my vocals to match and sound powerful. I didn’t want to face the fact it was kinda out of my league, but I persevered despite the humiliation. It didn’t occur to me that Brad might have made things easier by having our parts clearly written out rather than expect us to join in whenever it sounded right. The woman who was doing the musical direction and accompanying us on keys pointed this out, but she too was a big fan of Brad and gave him carte blanche to take his artistic vision wherever he wanted. He was the visionary rock n’ roll artiste, "Beelzebub", and things were not so structured in his universe. This oddity enamoured me even more, and I found myself being drawn to his orbit.
After the rehearsal, Brad drove me and one of the other pretty back-up singers who was actually playing the female lead in the play. Something magical happened that night when she asked Brad to drop her off at a friend’s instead of her home which was close to mine. I thought he would drop me off first, and was disappointed that I wouldn’t get a chance to ask him out for a bite to eat. My chance was staring me smack in the face as soon as the girl was dropped off at the friend‘s. I moved myself into the front seat. We were driving back into town, and I had to act fast.
“Um…do you feel like getting a bite to eat?”
“Sure.” That was fast!
To be continued...Blog 3
Monday, October 26, 2009
Sunday, October 25, 2009
One of These Days - The Dream Blog 1
I discovered that singing was the best way for me to release pent up angst while teaching English in Japan. The fame and fortune extended as far as a few supportive friends and fresh-faced students who applauded my efforts to be the next Whitney or Mariah. My ambitions were also encouraged by a lovely Japanese musician devoted to my cause, which was nothing more than to be the next Whitney or Mariah. He would choose polite ways to tell me the notes could use a little lift. Sometimes the politeness wasn’t working, and he’d throw his arms up in exasperation. I’d see the love twinkle in his eyes as he did this, and never took his grunts seriously. I kept singing a couple notes below the mark, but paid no heed. This blissful complacency would catch up to me much later.
I did get some vocal coaching from a well-known and established Japanese soul/r&B singer. Her name was Bella, and she was every bit as beautiful as her name suggested. The combination of her beauty and her powerful voice mystified her audience every time she performed. Bella was queen of the Chuo line. Although Bella’s love of African-American culture and music set her apart from the average Japanese, she remained a traditionalist in other respects, and so avoided conflict whenever possible with foreigners. Whenever I sang for her, yelling out the notes of a song that was too high for me, she’d tell me to keep practicing until I reached the mark. That method wasn’t working for me, but again, ignorance of proper vocal method was acceptable at the time for me. All I wanted was to perform my favourite 80s hits in front of an accepting crowd of friends and potential boyfriends. It was more my image I was concerned about rather than the thought that I had any talent to offer. I dazzled the small bar crowds with glittery costumes, high heels, and my luscious black locks that would fly in the faces of the poor fellows who had the courage to accompany me. I picked songs I liked at whim, and put in little time to perfecting them, even though my Japanese musician friend was more than willing to help me with that. We did record a demo together of songs he and I wrote. Again, the recording sessions were fraught with conflict, as he would point out my inconsistencies and I would maintain it was all perfect to my tone-deaf ears.
When I returned to Canada,. I thought I could get away with the voice I had. My mom herself was a singer, and knew something was amiss when she listened to my demo. For some reason, being in Japan was like being in a bubble, a place where I felt somewhat protected from the harshness of reality. In Canada, reality was as vivid as a stinking F marked in red on a paper about Socrates and the cave, only it was more about how the cave could use a makeover to make it more comfortable for Socrates, so he wouldn’t have to leave. The Japanese were just so accepting, and this is probably due to their non-confrontational nature; on the other hand, Canadians had a slightly different attitude towards those who were pitch-challenged. You either got the chops or had to work damn hard to get that recognition. You could be recognized only if you were a kid and then you'd get a pat on the back for effort and potential. I realized very quickly that I couldn’t pass myself off as a kid, and that I could no longer skip the necessary steps to get me to Whitney/Mariah-dom.
The next few years I spent doing pretty much what I had been doing in Japan: practicing, but not really listening, skipping lessons, jumping to a new song before the first one was perfected, and so forth. This left me quite dizzy blind about music, and the reality of my lack of talent didn’t sink in until I started going to auditions for musical theatre productions, where I met the real pros, people who had worked on honing their craft all their lives. What I saw in their eyes was true dedication. What I saw in mine was a fake. This period of time wasn’t fun for me. I was having difficulty with my teaching job. The school I worked at wasn’t paying me properly, and the kids were driving me bananas, making me use my voice like Aerosmith’s Steve Tyler. I was also living with my parents. That’s all I can say about that situation. My friendships were going sour in more ways than one because I was starting to have insecurity issues. My confidence was taking a real beating, and I missed being in Japan desperately. I didn’t realize later that I might have been experiencing an odd bit of culture shock. The Japanese were quite humble about their talents, but in Canada, it was all about competition, and people went on and on about how great they were. They had to show they wanted the gig more than the poor sucker next to them. And then there was me, waiting along with them, clutching Abba’s “SOS” score. I definitely needed some saving. I felt I was sinking into the mire of mediocrity and that my dreams would never be realized. I had full control of this of course. All I had to do was take the right steps, and be committed to taking those steps. But procrastination was a most pleasant enemy, and I whiled away the days watching my favourite talk shows with a bucket of Breyers.
2005. This was a hallmark year for me. I finally moved out of my parents' and had a cozy dwelling in the heart of Vancouver near English Bay. I had changed jobs a few years back after I got an official teaching certificate and was now working for a fantastic ESL school in the city. I also started recording my first ever demo with a talented producer who I had previously auditioned for. I secretly had a crush on him actually, but unlike my infatuations of the past, I thought it would be wise to keep my heart from engaging in any poetic outpourings of undying love. I wrote a song I never thought I could write, inspired by the magical voice and music of Sarah Brightman. “Into the Deep” would have a more profound meaning for me after meeting the man of my dreams. What people say about psychic phenomenon is all true. Our thoughts and actions lead us to the very thing we’ve always wanted, whether we are conscious of those choices or not. “Into the Deep” described for me the perfect love. The man I’ve always dreamed of with eyes so captivating and full of knowing that they’d unsettle me for days. But drama and excessive romanticism are not always the best qualities to encourage for a stable long-term relationship. I didn’t see it coming.
I did get some vocal coaching from a well-known and established Japanese soul/r&B singer. Her name was Bella, and she was every bit as beautiful as her name suggested. The combination of her beauty and her powerful voice mystified her audience every time she performed. Bella was queen of the Chuo line. Although Bella’s love of African-American culture and music set her apart from the average Japanese, she remained a traditionalist in other respects, and so avoided conflict whenever possible with foreigners. Whenever I sang for her, yelling out the notes of a song that was too high for me, she’d tell me to keep practicing until I reached the mark. That method wasn’t working for me, but again, ignorance of proper vocal method was acceptable at the time for me. All I wanted was to perform my favourite 80s hits in front of an accepting crowd of friends and potential boyfriends. It was more my image I was concerned about rather than the thought that I had any talent to offer. I dazzled the small bar crowds with glittery costumes, high heels, and my luscious black locks that would fly in the faces of the poor fellows who had the courage to accompany me. I picked songs I liked at whim, and put in little time to perfecting them, even though my Japanese musician friend was more than willing to help me with that. We did record a demo together of songs he and I wrote. Again, the recording sessions were fraught with conflict, as he would point out my inconsistencies and I would maintain it was all perfect to my tone-deaf ears.
When I returned to Canada,. I thought I could get away with the voice I had. My mom herself was a singer, and knew something was amiss when she listened to my demo. For some reason, being in Japan was like being in a bubble, a place where I felt somewhat protected from the harshness of reality. In Canada, reality was as vivid as a stinking F marked in red on a paper about Socrates and the cave, only it was more about how the cave could use a makeover to make it more comfortable for Socrates, so he wouldn’t have to leave. The Japanese were just so accepting, and this is probably due to their non-confrontational nature; on the other hand, Canadians had a slightly different attitude towards those who were pitch-challenged. You either got the chops or had to work damn hard to get that recognition. You could be recognized only if you were a kid and then you'd get a pat on the back for effort and potential. I realized very quickly that I couldn’t pass myself off as a kid, and that I could no longer skip the necessary steps to get me to Whitney/Mariah-dom.
The next few years I spent doing pretty much what I had been doing in Japan: practicing, but not really listening, skipping lessons, jumping to a new song before the first one was perfected, and so forth. This left me quite dizzy blind about music, and the reality of my lack of talent didn’t sink in until I started going to auditions for musical theatre productions, where I met the real pros, people who had worked on honing their craft all their lives. What I saw in their eyes was true dedication. What I saw in mine was a fake. This period of time wasn’t fun for me. I was having difficulty with my teaching job. The school I worked at wasn’t paying me properly, and the kids were driving me bananas, making me use my voice like Aerosmith’s Steve Tyler. I was also living with my parents. That’s all I can say about that situation. My friendships were going sour in more ways than one because I was starting to have insecurity issues. My confidence was taking a real beating, and I missed being in Japan desperately. I didn’t realize later that I might have been experiencing an odd bit of culture shock. The Japanese were quite humble about their talents, but in Canada, it was all about competition, and people went on and on about how great they were. They had to show they wanted the gig more than the poor sucker next to them. And then there was me, waiting along with them, clutching Abba’s “SOS” score. I definitely needed some saving. I felt I was sinking into the mire of mediocrity and that my dreams would never be realized. I had full control of this of course. All I had to do was take the right steps, and be committed to taking those steps. But procrastination was a most pleasant enemy, and I whiled away the days watching my favourite talk shows with a bucket of Breyers.
2005. This was a hallmark year for me. I finally moved out of my parents' and had a cozy dwelling in the heart of Vancouver near English Bay. I had changed jobs a few years back after I got an official teaching certificate and was now working for a fantastic ESL school in the city. I also started recording my first ever demo with a talented producer who I had previously auditioned for. I secretly had a crush on him actually, but unlike my infatuations of the past, I thought it would be wise to keep my heart from engaging in any poetic outpourings of undying love. I wrote a song I never thought I could write, inspired by the magical voice and music of Sarah Brightman. “Into the Deep” would have a more profound meaning for me after meeting the man of my dreams. What people say about psychic phenomenon is all true. Our thoughts and actions lead us to the very thing we’ve always wanted, whether we are conscious of those choices or not. “Into the Deep” described for me the perfect love. The man I’ve always dreamed of with eyes so captivating and full of knowing that they’d unsettle me for days. But drama and excessive romanticism are not always the best qualities to encourage for a stable long-term relationship. I didn’t see it coming.
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