I was about tread the boards of the Theatre Royal in Waterford for the first time in 5 years.
And I was more shit-scared than I've ever been in me life!
Now at this stage in me career I've played over 40 different theatres in England. I've performed in front of 1200 people a night and even shown me belly off in the West End so why the hell would returning to me home town to sing a few songs in a 600 seat classic proscenium arch theatre put the fear of God in me? Because Déise audiences can be the harshest critics in the world. Nicholas De Jongh - scourge of the West End - has nothing on them. Seriously. And I guess I felt I had something to prove. I left Waterford a talented amatuer and now I was returning to ballybroadway a "PROFESSIONAL". I'd better be worth the money so. Jesus. And of course I was doing it in style! 3 rehearsals for the variety spectacular to be called 'The Way We Were' and then off to England for 3 weeks to start rehearsals for a play and then return the morning of the first performance and have a couple of hours to put it all together. AM I FECKING NUTS?! And one of the numbers I was doing was a dance number! AM I REALLY FECKIN NUTS!?!?! Oh yes indeedy!
I had left Waterford a few days after the festival and eventually hit the high road to York (hangover still intact) and started rehearsals for 'The Beauty Queen of Leenane'
but more on that later.............
Fasting forward to over two weeks later and after numerous nights of prancing around my flat trying to learn the dance routine (in a space that was very very small. A lot like the Theatre Royal then) and singing various standards in the shower, I'm being driven from Dublin airport and the fear is kicking in. This was to be a full on weekend big time. I had rehearsals from 11 o'clock the next morning to try and get me shit together for the concert. Then of course I had the dreaded deed itself. The following morning (Sunday) I had a full day's rehearsals planned for 'The Lord of the Flies', yes that was still going on and I was still writing music for it, in between learning me killer moves boy! Then we had the second night of 'The Way We Were'. Thankfully I had sorted out an NA for the monday. NA, for those who don't speak showbiz, stands for non-availability and can be sorted out prior to the contract being signed. Its like a day off of school. So I had given myself the day after all the madness to recover and gently make my way back to York, or so I thought!!! Not a sign. I had bugged the Rex of Red Kettle Theatre Co. Mr. Ben Hennessy to give me an audition for their next production; Ira Levine's 'Deathtrap'. A deadly thriller which was going to have me man who played the lead out of '2001: A Space Odyssey' in it. Oh I'd like a bit of that thank you very much. And my pestering bears fruit. But the audition was to be on the Monday! Jesus! 11 O'clock in the morning!! Christ!!! Well I'll have to mind meself then. No going mad after the last night of the show. Of course that's what happened. Of course. Aaaanyway. Up at cock crow on the day of the show and I'm in Johnny Crowe's getting a lovely €10 haircut and by 11 O'Clock I'm standing on that stage.
And it all comes flooding back.
Its just all so familiar. All the years performing there. All the shows. All the craic. I know that place like the back of my hand, probably better. The scene of some of my best performances, amateur or professional, and of course some of my worst (I live in fear of a copy of the video of me in 'Jesus Christ Superstar' ever reaching London. I have had threats.) I would say that me walking onto that stage was like the scene in 'Sunset Boulevard' where Norma Desmond steps onto a film set for the 1st time in years, but that would be a bit gay. Needless to say I suddenly felt a huge buzz about being there. And I started whacking into the songs and me voice, five years older and (hopefully) better, starts bouncing off the walls. Yes boy. This is what its all about. This is what Waterford's about. Music, drama, variety. This blue bastion is easily the cultural capital of rip off Ireland and the Theatre Royal is its Áras an Uachtarán. Steeped in history, and a few ghosts for good measure, that building is a place of power in the town. I really felt like I was at home. Rehearsal goes well and the voice seems to be in good form (thank god there was no Munster finals on recently) the dancing is ok and I'll get away with it, but I also have to recite 2 shakespeare sonnets and I've busted me brain trying to learn them in the past few days and I think I'm ok on them. Then I go on to rehearse it and on before me are two of the funniest gowlers on the Waterford stage, local treasure Davy Sutton and the eponymous Q. They've just finished singing 'Brush up your Shakespeare' which segues nicely into my bit, but I come on stage and they're still there I launch into me first lines;
'Who will believe my verse in time to come, if....' and that's as far as I get before the two boys launch into a tirade of abuse....
'The fuck's he on about?'
'What a load a shit!'
'Shakespeare me bollox boy!'
There was no malice in it just pure gowling and it sent everyone at the rehearsal into convulsions of laughing. Including me. And that as they say was the end of that and the words were well gone on me and I spent an agonizing few seconds (hours) trying to get it back together, but no, I had to reach into me pocket and pull out the words. Now that was embarrassing. I think Michael Grant was regretting the cost of the flights now. I did the rest of it sheet in hand and so afraid was I now of forgetting them again I ended up using the words that night for the actual performance.
Ah yes. The performance.
It would probably make better reading (or funnier at least) if I were now to recount a litany of cock ups, forgotten lyrics, wrong songs and all the things that make up a good old backstage farce, but alas it went really well. Alright some of it had a rough quality to it because of the lack of rehearsal but it was all heart. The minute the curtain went up the audience was singing along with every number and that was enough to put anyone at ease. Except for me that is. I was bricking it. So much so that one of the toilets in the Theatre will be off limits for a couple of years. I put on my tux, brylcreem the hair and head for the stage. Gershwin's 'But Not For Me' is my first of the evening. I'm standing in the wings and the usual panic of forgetting all the words just before singing happens, but I've learned to just go with that, the words are still there. I'm chatting to Linda Gough, another 'Pro' brought back for the first time in ages (although she's proper famous because she was on Fair City.), and I'm delighted to hear that she has an equal case of the runs. So I casually walk on the stage, no spontaneous burst of applause. I'm going to have to earn that. And earn it I do. With blood sweat and fears. The dance number 'Putting on the Ritz' goes down a storm and 'Ol' Man River' closes the first act to whoops. Bring it on! I open the second act with a duet with the well talented Kate Hayley and the Shakespeare sonnets go grand. Well they should do cos I've got the words in me hand for feck sake. My last number is 'Night and Day' with another Jamie, Murphy that is who's inexplicably blonde for the occasion and before doing the song I have some witty banter with him and I crack possibly the worst joke ever;
'Can I have an A flat please Wayne?' (Note sounds) 'Janey that's very flat!'
The audience love it! The old ones are the best ones. And that's it the punishing ordeal is over only to be repeated the following night. Unbelievably the rehearsal for 'Lord of the Flies' is called off because, unbelievably, Waterford United had made it to the finals of the soccer league and the match was that evening. Well there was no way a rehearsal was gonna happen. Although a meeting did. But that's not so bad. And then the second night of 'The Way We Were' goes just as well as the first if not better. But how did I fare with the Déise audience. Had I come back from the London only to be found out to have feet of clay? Well there was one thing said to me that meant the most. I was in the Munster after the second night and I was chatting to Archie, one of the Collins theatrical dynasty, and he says to me like this;
'Don't take this the wrong way but I honestly had forgotten how good you were.'
That's good enough for me boy. And with the smile on me face that gave me I proceeded to celebrate like I didn't have an audition at 11 O'Clock the following morning. I mean I know it was stupid but what was I meant to do? Just head home straight after the show like a good little actor. Me bollox. Even as I wandered home at 4.30 from a grand auld Strawberry hill bash I still didn't think anything of it. No, only when I fell into a room above a pub in Dublin with one eye closed cos I had less than 2 hours sleep and no voice and a head on me to match only then did I feel the pangs of regret. Sure you would watching a great gig going down the drain. I notice that there has been a certain rearranging of the furniture and that can mean only one thing: we're going to move it. Crap! They're the auditions where its not just a case of sitting down and have a read (which I would have barely been able for that morning). No, in this you have to get up and play the scene as if you were onstage. Of course I don't know the scene well enough to be off the book and so the script in my hand was a huge pain in the hole. It got worse when we got to the bit where i was supposed to be handcuffed! Say no more. I had just made a triumphant return to the Waterford stage but 'Deathtrap' wasn't going to be my second. I mean when am I going to cop on for Christ sake?!?! Will I ever learn or is that just the way I always am and the way I always will be? That said it wasn't absolutely terrible and when I was told I didn't get it (surprise, surprise) I was told that the director and actor reading opposite me were very impressed but they were going for someone a bit older. I'm not sure if I believe that but it was nice to hear that I didn't make a total prick of myself. Not to worry though, sure I was working. Back to York so. But I was still on a big buzz from being back on stage in Waterford. I can't leave it too long before I do it again. I reach York and I'm already missing home. It never gets any easier. I got a card off Michael Grant to say thanks, and even better than the compliment from Archie were his words on the card;
'You're a true blue.'
How bad.
