Celebrity Once Removed ...

... or why I love Nerina Pallot and am angry at Benedict Cumberbatch.

Sometimes I think celebrities have too much influence over our daily lives. Look at how many entertainers are in Time Magazine's 100 Most Influential list. And I'm not saying entertainers can't or shouldn't use their visibility. I'm just saying there's little in their professional training that equips them for such a role. Athletes, generally less. And I could write a whole blog post about how politicians probably shouldn't be influential, but I can't be arsed.

Anyway, that's by way of an introduction to today's topic. I know I haven't blogged for ages, so long I don't even remember writing that last post, but I suppose I'm still hoping to inspire some sort of intelligent discussion, so I'll keep trying, every few years or so.

I love Nerina Pallot because she's brought singing and playing music back into my life. And a bit of songwriting. I might have taken the occasional multi-year hiatus from making noise, but I suppose I've never truly stopped singing. But the reason I credit her so highly is because it has become as important to me as breathing and I'm enjoying it now as I never did before.

I am actually classically trained, which sounds more posh than it is. My mother loved to sing, sang at church and in community chorales, went to the opera ... As soon as I was old enough, we started taking voice lessons together. And I learned to do scales and arias and recitatives. Classical music really isn't my bag, but some of the pieces weren't terribly dreadful and occasionally we'd come across a quirky art song and that could be fun. I performed and competed, and I hated it.

I spent a couple of years retraining myself to breathe to cure my chronic asthma, during which time I was afraid to sing for fear my body would think I was hyperventilating. Even now, almost entirely wheeze-free, I sometimes emerge from a practice session with a bit of tightness in my chest. But it goes quickly. Anyway, during that time, I lost most of my high register and a chunk of notes at my passagio. Subsequent attempts to sing were marred by the fact I sounded terrible. But it turned out exercise really was all I needed. At least for the middle notes. I'm resigned that I'm no longer a colloratura soprano but rather a mezzo (but I don't have the rich low notes of an alto).

The fact I didn't enjoy singing didn't temper my love of listening to music, and Nerina has been my go-to singer/songwriter since I discovered her around 2006. She comes to Cornwall every year for concert and we've seen her each time for the last 7 years, I think. But late last year, I was listening to one of her EPs (the specific song, if you're curious, was Eleven) and I had a bit of an epiphany. My definition of an epiphany is when you get hit over the head with an idea that really should have occurred to you decades ago. Part of my classical training, and my nature to be obsessed with getting things right, is to concentrate on technical perfection (which, I think I've established, at this time was nearly nil). I've never naturally connected emotionally to music. Or much else. Animals, always, for good or bad, and if I'm lucky, people, although that is getting way easier as I get older and stop caring so much about whether or not it's appropriate to talk to a complete stranger in a way that reveals your soul. You know, as I'm doing here.

So my epiphany was how much BETTER you can sound when you clearly stop worrying about the technical and start feeling the emotion in a song. That didn't come out quite right. It sounds like I'm saying Nerina doesn't have technique. She has an amazing, beautiful voice and she knows how to use it. But she also has a relaxed approach to singing. She trusts that her voice will do what it needs to do, which is something I never have done, and I still don't trust it not to crack or simply stop for no apparent reason. But I've had to let that go.

Now I know I don't sound technically perfect. I know when I was younger and my voice was in better shape, I sounded more polished. But I'm enjoying singing, enough so that I'm cautiously sharing it with others, even though I still hate "performing." And I've had to learn not to beat myself up when a note comes out in an unexpected way. Or when I forget the words or play the wrong chord. But one of the side effects of choosing songs I am in love with is people do ask me if I sing any happy songs. No. I don't. I don't feel happy. But for now I'll settle for joy.

So why am I upset with Benedict Cumberbatch? What could such a well-spoken, polite, intelligent young man possibly have done to earn my ire? He only bloody reawakened my love for theatre, the git. I thought it was dead and buried after the theatre and I had a rather messy break-up in 1990. We didn't even speak for years after. And until recently I was quite happy that we could see each other VERY occasionally, exchange a few words, and then go our separate ways. I was contented with the less rubbish television and romantic comedies at the cinema. I could cope.

Then HE happened. I'm not going to apologise for appreciating the man's work. But to my peril I enjoy watching him perform so much I'll watch anything he does. The low point was probably the racing. It took me an hour to realise that some of the cars were identical, so the car I was cheering for because I liked it's paint job the best was actually two cars. But bully for me, they came in first and second. Yay, pretty paint! Actually, that probably wasn't the low point. I tried Nathan Barley. I don't "get" that kind of humour. I watched one full episode, then just the few seconds the Batch was on screen. He was great, as always. Probably best he didn't have a larger role or I would have had to watch even more seconds of that ... ahem.

So of course I went to see Frankenstein when the National Theatre rereleased it last year. Both versions. And since then I've seen other NTLive productions. And recently, I saw Birdland live at Royal Court in London. I can feel a lump in my throat just thinking about it. I've got another trip to London coming up and I will see at least one live performance a day. And know that it still will only scratch the surface of what's on offer. And the reason this is a problem is because IT IS NOT ENOUGH. And I think most people have experienced some kind of unrequited love in their lives, and it sucks! Right now, it appears very much as though, even if I have not gotten over the theatre, it has very much moved on and is just fine without me.

I generally strive to be fair, so some of the blame has to be given to Tom Hiddleston for being so brilliant in The Hollow Crown, but that wasn't live theatre. It wasn't even semi-live theatre, like Frankenstein. But it was Shakespeare. And I'll also blame Andrew Scott for being so amazing on stage in Birdland. And Simon Russell Beale for breaking my heart as King Lear.

And it is NOT ENOUGH to watch live theatre from the relative comfort of my local cinema, although I appreciate the fact it is available. It isn't even enough to enjoy increasingly amazing drama on television and in the movies. I'm not sure what will constitute enough. But I have a feeling that, when I find out what that is, I'm going to be too busy to tell you about it. UPDATE: I am revisiting my blog nearly 6 years later because I have *thoughts* and I have reread this post. I still love Nerina and am looking forward to seeing her perform live once the pandemic (COVID 19 for those of you - and me - in the future who have forgotten about this). I surprisingly have no strong feelings about Benedict Cumberbatch. I moved to Essex, just outside of London, nearly 5 years ago, and in to Whitechapel nearly 2 years ago. I've gone from 2 live shows a week to 4 live shows a week to several a month. I love the fringe theatres the best, and if I don't have to move my feet for the performers to get by, or if I'm not spat on at least once, I'm not close enough. I have also gotten into podcasts, which you would think is a retrograde step. But not at all. Podcasting is brilliantly interactive. Having the voices go straight into your head is intimate, and podcasters are an accessible lot, through Twitter, Discord, and even live shows (where you can get spat on). Podcasters are, in general, the best people on the planet. Oh, and I've seen Cumberbatch, Hiddleston, and Scott live on stage (Scott more than once and I even spoke to him at a charity function). I've discovered amazing talent I'd walk over broken glass for. I did training in stage management and I've even directed. Even as the theatres of London are shut down this week (and who knows for how long) and I worry so hard about their survival, I never once stop being grateful that I have had the opportunity to experience live theatre every few days when so many people can only get it on special occasions. I could write a whole essay on why theatre is important *to me* but I can summarise it as "it's a safe place to fall in love". Theatre means different things to different people, but it is so important y'all. Love and light. Zx