I hate touring.
No, I love touring.
Both statements are true. And never more so than on this gig.
After the utter mess I made of the American embassy interview I had me work cut out to show the lads in Propeller that I wasn't the Irish waster that they were rapidly beginning to believe I was. Not to worry, sure I had a week before we opened in which to cop on, knuckle down and get this fucker on its feet and not screw up. And do you know what the mad thing was?
I did. Cop on that is. Well that last week of rehearsals at least.
Jesus I was on me best behaviour. In I went to rehearsals at 10 am every day, looking at the script on the train, no books for me, too much work to do baby. God, I was even looking at the script when I was walking from the tube to the rehearsal room. Big work then from start to finish at 6pm. Then it was back on the tube home for some more looking at the script action. I was well focussed, probably through fear rather than anything else because if you stopped to think about it we opened the following Thursday. OH MY GOD!!! Right so no going out. Well very little going out. Too much to do. The main man himself was in at this stage as well, the maestro Ed Hall and he was putting us through our paces. Big time. You need to know your verse with this guy. Thankfully I had just gotten lessons offa his dad so I knew me pentameter! The funny thing as well was that I had spent the first week doing the part of the 1st Lord in RP as all the rest of the lads were English and the guy I was taking over from had used an English accent. When Ed heard me he spake thus:
'Jamie, why don't you use your own accent?'
'Sorry Ed I just thought you wanted RP, sure that's what Jules used.'
'Yes but Jules is from Luxembourg, if he'd used his own accent we wouldn't have understood a word, Shakespeare sounds great in an Irish accent, there's a real music to it.'
Go on the Irish! You see? I should have stuck to my guns instead of jumping the gun. Understandable though seeing as everything was such a rush. But I was having trouble getting Willows out of me head to be honest and I was having awful trouble with the section where I played Mopsa the Shepherdess. Oh yes boy, seeing as this was an all male company I was playing a lack and one of the ugliest ones you've ever laid eyes on. I was stink!! If I sent you pictures you may get arrested. That week I had a costume fitting for my skirt, bra and belly top. No seriously. And before I got into my Sunday best the designer asked me if I'd ever played a woman on stage before.
'Why yes.' replieth I nonchalantly, 'Twice actually.'
Oh yeah, I'd forgotten about them. That said a lot of the guys in this company had played women before, but that was because they were in an all male shakespearean ensemble. I had done it in The Dream and Willows so I had no excuse only that it was in the script. Yep, that's my get out. But I don't know, you'd think after seeing how pig ugly I looked as a woman in the Dream that no director in their right mind would give me a dress to wear ever again. Hang on though I'm a red (blue) blooded man from the Déise and I'm talking about wearing dresses!?!
God what the hell am I doing with my life?!?
Its art love, get used to it. (And I shouldn't really mention about the simulated blow job I was supposed to give one of the lads in one of the songs. Its alright though he kept his pants on. More on that later.) But I digress... Like I said Willows was still in me head because I was playing Mopsa like I was still doing Toad and that was no good to no one. Also all the rest of the lads were using a west country accent in that section and it took me ages to get it anywhere near right, or at least close enough to be getting on with, which wasn't close enough for me by a big way. We'll see so, just keep working. The piano playing was going ok too, that said I was practicing it every time we had a break. At one point though I hit a brick wall with it. Not because I couldn't play it, I just didn't know why I was playing it. Me man I took over from had written and played a piece of music for the final scene and they had sent me the dots he had put down on paper. In a notes session Ed brought the subject of the piano piece up and he said it wasn't working. I told him I just couldn't get inside the composer's head. And he said:
'Well don't, change it as much as you want and make it work for Jamie Beamish.'
Ah right! Gotcha now. And at that point I felt on it. I was no longer taking over a part, I was in that room to create my version of it. Create something new, not mimic what had been done before. And then I really pulled out the finger and the work was good. The show was REALLY good and there was no way I was going to be like some third wheel. And as I was beginning to be happy with the show the phone rang. Can anyone guess who it might be?:
'They want to see you for Avenue Q but the auditions are going to be the week after next.' Quoth mine agent.
Shite. Avenue Q was a musical taking the piss out of Sesame Street (well it would with song titles like 'Everyone's a little bit racist' and 'the internet is for porn') which was transferring from Broadway to London and I really wanted to be in it. This is one funny fucker of a show. That's good, why say shite then? The week after next I was going to be in Glasgow. Ah right. Shite. Not a hope of getting back to do the audition there, just too far away. So I was pissed off with that and of course something else reared its ugly head as it was always bound to do.
Digs.
Fuck it! Alright you know at this stage how much looking for digs wrecks me head and this was no exception. When I took this show the big draw for me of course was the International venues, America, Spain, Dublin (its mad thinking of going to Ireland as touring internationally, its just going home like.). There were however six british venues and we had to get digs for five of them. The digs list had been sitting there untouched by me for the first week and a half of rehearsals. It was taunting me with its vile contents written by vicious housewives, whose spare room is their social life. Aaaaaagh!!! Jesus! Noooooo!!! I was seriously considering wasting a loada money and just getting a hotel, but I just couldn't justify it. I had a quick look at the digs list so and nearly got sick, ah yeah its as bad as I thought!! Aw no, somebody help me through this crisis! Thank Jesus somebody did. As will always happen the conversation one day got around to 'Have you sorted any digs for Swindon yet?' and I meekly replied in the negative. Swindon, the first week of the tour was rapidly approaching and I had fuck all. Bill Buckhurst, prince of Bohemia, turned to me and said that I should ring the lady he's staying with as he thinks she has a spare room and there's three of them staying there anyway. Hmm veeery possible. Its never as bad when there's other people out of the cast staying there. I gave her the bell and although she sounded a bit mad she said she had a loft room and it was £50 for the week. Sound! I'll buy that for a dollar! Or 50 anyway. Well 50 pound that is. Feck it, whatever, I had digs thank Jesus. Now what about the venue after that? Glasgow? Glasgow is notoriously hard for getting digs. The last time I toured there a few of us had a flat in the Gorbals, which is worse than the Bronx, or Ballybeg for that matter, and one of the boys got a kick outside a chipper while I was inside waiting for me smoked sausage. Like the true friend I was I hung on till I got the sausage until we pegged it home for fear of repeat kicking. So I wasn't goin there again. So where oh where could I go? Its at times like this, when you're desperately wracking your brains, that drunken conversations, which you thought lost to the mists of time and alcohol, just pop right back into your head. I was thrown back to a certain night of large bottles in Muldoons whereupon I was introduced to a cousin of nice guy Roy Collins (this boy has a cousin for every occasion his family is so big). She told me she lived in Glasgow with her daughter and I said I'd toured to Glasgow and liked it very much and she said the next time i tour there to give her a shout and I could stay with her for nothing. Twas an offer I couldn't refuse sure. A couple of texts to Roy and a phonecall to the lady herself, Jeanine, and I was sorted. Two down, one to go this side of Dublin. Portsmouth was the last port of call before the first international venue and I decided to treat meself. I hopped on the tourism website and past all the beautiful pics of sunny Portsmouth I found meself a B&B. 25 a night, but sure I was only there for 4 nights and feck it sure tis grand to have a little luxury. Luxury? Twas only a B&B for fecksake not the Waldorf!!
With that huge weight off me mind I enjoyed the last couple of days of rehearsals. Twas all going well actually; I had digs sorted, I kind of knew me lines after a fashion, Ben Hennessy had rung me to see if I wanted to write the music for a production of Peter Pan back in the Deise for Christmas (now that could be verrry possible), and amazingly the last run through on the Friday night before we opened went really well all things considered. Ed seemed happy, and decided to drop a little bombshell:
'There's a very big possibility that this show will be going into The Arts Theatre in the West End for a Christmas season after the tour finishes.'
Ah no! Not only was I being brought to places I always wanted to see and play, this gig may actually be my return to the West End. Best. Gig. Ever. And after giving us that nugget he told us the next time he would see us would be in Swindon the following Tuesday. Whoa three days off! Well not really, the agent had gotten back to me about Avenue Q;
'They've changed the audition day, they'll see you on Tuesday morning, first thing.'
Sound.
I could do the audition in the morning and then hop on the train to Swindon straight after. That gave me three days to get my shit together and be as castable as humanly possible at the audition. I selected me two songs for them, they asked for a funny one (Poisoning Pigeons in the Park) and a ballad (She's a Woman). Bed early for me the night before the audition too. Me bollox! As fate would have it the night before the audition (and start of the Winter's Tale tech) was the Regent's Park end of season party. Oh no. This could be mayhem. But hold on though I can be a good boy. I'll only have a few beers, enjoy the craic for a few hours then say me goodbyes and head home early. Oh I went home early all right ........ as in early in the morning!!! The party was great craic as usual and the mock awards were given (I didn't get one, but our cursing badger did!) and there beer was free and flowing. Now in fairness I did have a few beers but not so many as to get blind drunk as in previous years. It was the leaving part I couldn't get me head around. Then again I never can really, I'm always worried I'll miss something. So I ended up once more on the bandstand in the Park, fairly sober now, until about 5 in the morning. Jesus you'd swear I had nothing on the next day, much less an audition and the start of a feckin tech! I sat on the bandstand with the rest of the Willows cast (we were the only ones to have any kind of staying power sure!) and at 5 bells I said to meself tis time to head home and sober up. I went to a garage and got a bite to eat and got the bus home. At this stage there seriously was no point in going asleep so I had me a shower packed my bag and watched BBC News 24 until GMTV kicked in, and then hit the tube over to the Theatre Royal Stratford East where the Audition was on. I arrived at the theatre just after 10, buzzing on the lack of sleep to be honest, only to bump into the production manager for Willows who was now doing a new job here.
'Hi Jamie, what're you doing here?' Quoth he.
'Well Stewart boy, I'm here for me Avenue Q audition sure.' Quoth I with glassy eyes.
'No man, I just checked the list, you're on tomorrow.'
No fuckin way was I! I went straight in to see what the story was here and the girl taking names for the audition also said I was on at 10am the next day. Aw no this is some serious cock up! I explain to her that I need to do it today as I was rehearsing all day in Swindon the next day. I could see the mention of Swindon didn't impress her. Thankfully she was able to sort it out that I could be squeezed in at 11am instead. Right, OK, it'll make me late for the tech but feck it I was there I may as well do it.
(Ok time to pause the tape for a little public information announcement. Avenue Q was being co-produced by the Theatre Royal Stratford East and Cameron Mackintosh. Now the latter fella you may have heard of, he's a bit famous. I also don't have the best of track records when it comes to auditions for his shows. I made an absolute dogs dinner of a Phantom audition once and as for my My Fair Lady audition a few years ago. Well his head of casting told my agent that the reason I wasn't getting a recall was because I just wasn't very interesting and I had yet to have another audition for this man since then. It also shot my confidence to shit for a few weeks, and I really questioned whether I should bother still doing this job, up until I got another job that is. But it was alright this time though because the Theatre Royal were doing the initial casting so I was calm with the thought that he wouldn't be there. Normal service may now resume.)
I walked into the audition room only to find the head of casting for Cameron Mackintosh sitting behind the desk. Aw shit on it anyway! I was now shitting meself worse than I have in an audition in a LONG time. Suddenly everything was stacked against me:
1. I hadn't been to bed yet.
2. I'd caused hassle because according to them I turned up on the wrong day (which was a loada shit. I believe me agent on this one!).
3. I was stressed because I was going to be late for the tech.
4. I hadn't been to bed yet.
5. Sitting behind the desk was a man who really didn't rate me whatsoever.
6. I was singing the exact same song that he found not very interesting in the first place.
I walk into the room say hello to himself and the lady with him and sit down on the chair in front of the table whereupon he looks at me and goes;
'So what are you going to sing for us today?'
Jesus I'd forgotten how shite auditions for musicals were, no little bit of chat about what you've been up to, just straight in, sing the song and feck off! No point in sitting down so. I gave the music for Pigeons to the pianist, told her how I was doing it and what speed, she then proceeded to play it at half that speed. Brilliant, a bumnotes behind the piano is all I feckin needed. I stopped her and set her straight and after that it went pretty good. The pipes were in decent shape given the lack of sleep, I think me vocal chords still thought it was the day before! Anyway it went well enough for them to ask me for my second song, which is the first time the man from Del Mackintosh has ever asked for more. Nice one, the nerves were beginning to subside and I lashed into She's a Woman from Kiss of the Spiderwoman. This also goes well and the pianist doesn't fuck it up too badly either. And then when it finishes the man from Del Mackintosh he say:
'Thank you very much, that's all we need to hear today.'
Nuts.
Dreaded words if ever I heard them. The standard nice line that says fuck off with a smile. Not sure that that went that well, ah well! What's always good about doing a bad audition when you're already working is that it doesn't feel so bad, its not like you've been out of work for ages and your life depends on getting this job. Its easy to put it behind you and get back to the job in hand. Aw shit yeah the job in hand, sure I had a tech to be slightly late for! So I ran out out of the theatre, bag in hand, headed off to Paddington and boarded a train, which was funnily enough the Bath train that I knew so well, but I wasn't going there. Oh no. I was going somewhere far more dangerous. The first port of call on the Magical Mystery tour that would be the Winter's Tale:
Swindon.
Some of us have all the luck.
