Thingies that happen to Steve in his other job

[SteveHopwood]

Another laugh for you all at my expense.

I have written here before that this blasted Beauty and the Beast piano part is not hard to play - just difficult to read.

I am coming to grips with it and will be well prepared for the first big Sunday rehearsal on Oct 14th. The pill is sweetened by the school insisting on paying me this time, so I know there is financial reward at the end of all the agony.

Agony is still agony, whether financially rewarded or not.

Not everyone in 'the band' is a professional musician, so you can imagine how much they rely on what is happening on the piano for their lead.

I learned last year how much more useful it is if I know what is going on before we started rehearsing.

This benighted musical appears to have several huge numbers as its backbone, with lots of tiny stuff in between. I decided tonight to YouTube the main ones to become familiar with them. I could make sense of what is going on, having learned the piano score.

Trouble is, what is going on is total bollocks. It is vying in my limited brain capacity for the worst composition ever, with "The Sound of Music". Last year's "Joseph" is a paragon of genius by comparison.

I managed "Belle" through gritted teeth. I managed "Gaston" with the help of a really good single malt.

"Be our Guest" defeated me half way through. I had to stop. There is no level of masochism that would allow anybody to listen to this stuff.

And still three 'big' numbers to go plus all the smaller stuff in between.



Thingy is, we all know that I will enjoy the performances. I love helping kids strut their stuff in front of entirely warm and uncritical audiences. So often I am helping them prepare for assessed performances with the stress that comes with doing so. It is great to do something that the kids can relax into.

I just wish it wasn't such total crap.

Hey ho.

[SteveHopwood]

Gabby pitched up for a lesson this afternoon. The piano score of Bloody Beauty and the Sodding Beast was open on the piano at the end of the abortion I had just been practising. "I will just remove the bollocks" I remarked, taking The Bollocks down from the piano.

We worked on Gabby's gorgeous performance of Chopin's Grande Valse Brilliante and time came for her to leave. I had left The Bollocks open and she pointed to it and announced, "That is my favourite song from the whole musical."

I glowered at her in silence, so she continued, "It is my favourite musical."

I gestured to the outside world and snarled, "You need therapy. Now go away."

Came the reply, "It was the first musical my parents ever took me to. I have been entranced by it ever since."

"They are sadists. Now get out and never come back again. Find another piano teacher. I never want to see you again."

28 year olds do not tend to skip anywhere, but Gabby came as near as she could to doing this as she left the house. "Bye Steve. See you next week."

I really must work on this trembling and awe in my presence business.

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It occurred to me belatedly last week, that working after school with Billy and Henry-who-thought-for-13-years-that-he-was-called-Jeremy without sweets on the table was An Act of Dreadful Cruelty.

So, I have a large bag of Starburst's in my case for tomorrow.

Then I remembered. Back in The Day, these monsters were known as Opal Fruits. They were so packed with E numbers that merely looking at a tube sent my son bouncing off the ceiling for a couple of hours.

I think I will replace them with some Maltesers tomorrow.

[SteveHopwood]

We had another of our working-out-a-guitar part for the Blasted Beauty and her Sodding Beast tonight.

It turns out that Billy had not merely been a passive spectator as I had been calling out chords to him and Henry-who-thinks-he-is-Jeremy over the previous fortnight. He had been learning as well.

He pitched up tonight with a copy of the same piano score that I have and announced, "I have done a lot of the numbers" and showed them to me. I could not spot on a quick glance anything that he had done wrong.

Thingy is, it took me nearly a month to drag a copy of the piano score out of the MD yet Billy managed it in under a week. Mind, he has the power of cute on his side, so I resisted the urge to batter him to death with it.

So we started on one of the songs that he had not done. He might want me for this, but he does not need me any more. I was moving quickly because this sort of stuff is easy for me but got it wrong a few times. Every time, Billy called out, "Do you really mean.........?" and was always correct - he was keeping up with me and perhaps even ahead of me.

Fantastic, or what? One of the most wondrous sights in my life is watching bright kids working out something for themselves that takes others weeks to come to grips with. It is fabulous to behold.

I had given the two of them a bag of Starburst - forgot to replace them with Maltesers. There were still a lot left at the end of the session, so I told the boys to divvy them up for the journey home.

"OK" announced Henry-who-thinks-he-is-Jeremy, "Now all we have to do is escape school without being trapped with sweets in our pockets."

I cottoned on. "So having sweets in your pockets is a hanging offence is it?"

"Yes."

"So, do you need me to accompany you out of the building to ensure you do not get hanged?"

The boys assumed an expression of exaggerated innocence and drew close together in that way that only really close school children have and Billy asked, "How guilty do you think we look?"

I defy any teacher who knows these two to suspect them of mischief. In reality, they could get away with anything.

----------

Talking about how these two could get away with anything, here is a great example.

At the start of our evening session above, Henry had helped Paul carry some equipment into our room. Noisily. We are talking crashing around here.

Head of Humanities followed Henry into the room then laughed and announced, "I thought there was some mischief going on and was coming to shout at children. No need, I see."

Never miss an opportunity for a wind up so I said, "Shout at them anyway. They deserve it."

"No" she replied, "They could get up to mayhem and nobody would shout at them."

Not that they ever would. Just great to see their qualities recognised by people who do not always come into close contact with them.

[SteveHopwood]

We had our first full Sunday (of two) rehearsal of The Flatulent Beast and Her Sodding Beauty yesterday.

So far as I can tell, this abortion of a so-called 'musical' is as bad as I surmised from the piano part.

I write, "So far as I can tell" because the first Sunday rehearsal is done without the kids being mic'd up - which means that we in the band cannot hear what they are up to.

This will not matter once we can hear them but for now here were the two collossal disadvantages we were labouring under: the Musical Director cannot count and who has only a limited ability to give the rest of us the clues we need to hold the thingy together; we have in the band a wonderful former teacher at the school who will try to provide anything she possibly can on any one of the host of woodwind instruments she can bring with her.

Trouble is, this wonderful lady can neither count nor listen and so will keep playing regardless of what is going on elsewhere and however badly she timed her entry. And she can time them very badly.

Then we have the two wonderful young guitarists who will keep with Paul, their guitar teacher, who manfully tries to keep up with me, who is manfully trying to keep up with the kids that I cannot really hear, and an MD who is manfully trying to keep up with anything at all - usually me. At least Paul can count as well, so there are two of us in the building with this skill.

It sounds as though I am being critical of our MD. Perhaps I am, but here is his problem; he is a maths teacher with considerable musical talent. An MD he is not but he makes a magnificent job of doing his best. It is a really, really good best.

And then he has The Producer to deal with. Typical drama teacher; blissfully happy to ruthlessly waste every body else's time; turns to instant incandescent fury at the mere suggestion that somebody wastes hers.

A song would grind to a halt. Drama teacher would hurtle towards MD yelling, "NO. NO. NO. You got it wrong."

Now, under the same circumstances I would snarl, "No we didn't you moron. The kids got it wrong. AGAIN. I taught them how to do this correctly last week. You were there. Not my fault if you buggered it up in between. I am going home. Contact me again when you are prepared to behave more intelligently" and leave."

This brilliant young MD merely pointed out that lack of amplification means that the band cannot hear the kids and that this problem is not his fault. Then he would go to the kids and explain again what they were supposed to have done.

Not sure that the wonderful WW lady would not still be playing at this point.

The really great upside to this story is that we finally learned just how much of this blasted abortion has been cut - at least two thirds of it. I took huge joy in tearing the unwanted pages from my score today. These cuts cannot be reinstated - I have binned the offending pages and nothing can happen if I am not playing.

So we progress. I have learned to read the score and no longer struggle with it. Next Sunday the kids will be mic'd up and we in the band will start to make sense of it. Come the Monday and all will come together. Just.

Then the performances will be their usual triumph.

I hope.

[SteveHopwood]

Concerning 11 year old Gracie and Her Nightly Interrogation By Her Mum.

A slightly apprehensive Gracie explained at the start of the lesson yesterday, "I have practised 30 minutes every night but am still not very good. I am sorry. I would have practised more but I had such a lot of homework to do."

Give it a few more weeks and G will lose any apprehension when dealing with me. I am not lying when I promise kids in their first lesson with me that no harsh words will ever come their way from me. Why would they? These are cute kids learning to play the piano, not lifers up for a possible parole after 30 years inside.

She was pretty good, but here is a problem that seriously bright kids hit hard up against when they start to learn to play a musical instrument; they can find the physical coordination a bit hard to master. They often have too-high expectations of themselves and can be dissapointed when unable to live up to them easily.

The book I use with kids like Gracie moves quickly. There is often a need for a pause in the rush of progress and so to spend a week just doing the same material again. This was so with Gracie, so I explained and she was happy.

Thingy is, G is searingly bright. From the way she talks and understands concepts immediately, I am surmising that she is from a high-achieving family so I said, "Tell your mum from me, when it comes to your interrogation this evening that you are not keeping the same stuff to practise this week as last because you have done badly. Explain that this book moves quickly and you merely need a week to catch your breath. You really have done very well."

Come the end of the lesson and time for some fun so I asked, "Gracie, you know you have told me about your nightly interrogation from your mum?"

"Yes."

"Has she ever strapped you into a chair, turned a bright light on you and demanded you confess to some crime or other?"

"Yes" came the reply. "I was about 6 and loved watching spy films." <sounds odd, I know, but this is the 11 year old who understands 'forensic'>. "I had just been watching my favourite when we had to go out. Mum strapped me into the back of the car, turned on the overhead light and then announced sternly, 'So now the interrogation begins.' "

"Did you crack under interrogation" I asked?

"Yes" came the reply. "She tickled me and I confessed to being a spy immediately."

"Not many of us could withstand torture. That was few years ago. Do you still watch spy films" I asked?

"No. These days I like horror films and Disney films. I will watch a horror film and then put on something like, 'Snow White'."

I think we might have some entertainment coming from this little lady.

[SteveHopwood]

A lovely story for you from today, at the blasted Flatulent Beauty And Her Sodding Beast rehearsal. I remember describing a couple of years ago the chair with wheels that a little girl was loving being sent from one side of the hall to another.

This chair appears to have had babies, so now there are several. They are fully occupied during the day. One of them was occupied by a little boy of about 11 whose costume included a small plastic sword. He is not on stage for long and spent the rest of the time wheeling around the floor holding imaginary sword fights.

Mightily irritating after about three hours, but harmless so none of us saw any point in interrupting his fun. These rehearsals must be very boring for an individual when not on stage.

Not everyone in the world has the sort of patience with kids that us parents have, and this boy's behaviour finally irritated a young technician who looks as though he is only just out of school himself.

Technician marched up to small boy and demanded possession of the sword. Sword duly handed over. Technician marched over to a desk of props and deposited the sword.

I thought to myself, "I know what is going to happen now." Yep. Small Boy waited until the Technician was out of sight and then wheeled over to the props table.

Now, Small Boy is not an idiot. He did not hurtle directly to the table. Nope. He did it in ever increasingly concentric circles. Finally, he innocently arrived at the table where - astonishment in every line of his little body - he found this sword thingy.

Which he retained ownership of for the next half hour, hiding it away from The Technician whenever Said August Body approached.

It seems that pretty much any adult who comes within hailing distance of this school can dish out detentions whenever they see fit. Seems bonkers to me but who I am I to comment? I reckon the caretaker's, oops sorry - I mean the Chief Executive In Charge Of Estates Management and Development - cat has more authority in the place than I do, so my opinion counts for nowt.

Technician and Small Boy were within hearing distance when these two met again. Sword was confiscated again and Small Boy was threatened with detention if found with it again off stage.

I am pleased to report that Small Boy took the hint.

[SteveHopwood]

I have mentioned before that guitar teacher Paul (aka "Mr Piercy") and I continue to note a marked absence of trembling and dread in our presence?

Take this from the final performance of, "The Flatulent Beauty And Her Sodding Beast" this evening.

One of the thingies we pianists do when faced with multiple page turns is: we turn up the bottom right corner of the page we need to turn - makes it easier to grab it and turn the page.

The piano score had shrunk from 190 pages to approx 120, so that is still quite a lot of corners to turn up. I was sat doing this when one of the cast approached and asked, "Mr Hopwood, do you know where there is a bin?"

Now, turning up the corners of approx 60 pages is not a fascinating thingy to do, so I had mentally gone to sleep. I replied vaguely, "Sorry sweetheart, but I don't."

I realised after I awoke that I had been a tad on the dismissive side, and resolved to apologies if I got the chance. This arose during the interval when I bumped into her.

"Sorry darling," I explained, "I was distracted when you asked me about a bin earlier. I should have been more helpful."

Her reply was pure class. "No problem. I played a trick on Mr Piercy. I bounced up to him at top speed and announced that I had a present for him for all the help he has given me. He held out his hand and I dumped the litter into it, then fled."

We high-fived.

Paul would have taken this in great heart. It isn't just me who adores these kids.

----------------------------------------------------

This blasted musical has been its usual huge success. Kids had a great time. Audience loved it. The kids taking part will remember it for the rest if their lives.

Kids taking part in something like this can change their lives. Every now and again, a child will be persuaded to follow a career in performing arts. Every now and again, one of those persuaded to try to follow said career will succeed. Not many, but it will happen.

Take guitarist Billy as an example. Here in the UK we have schools that cater for musically gifted children from the age if 8 until 18. From 18+ we have the music colleges for stunning young performers. These music colleges run junior departments on Saturdays. The kids at these establishments get to mingle will similarly, or even better, talented and accomplished students along with the best teachers available to teach them. Studying at them will open doors not available to your usual school pupil.

So, I talked to him and his family last night and passed on links to the nearest establishments - Chethams and the Royal Northern College of Music, both in Manchester, c. 90 minutes away. I hope they look at these institutions seriously; we shall see.

-----------------------------------------------

And me? I do not enjoy music theatre. OK, so given the choice between The Magic Flute sung in Italian, and The Sound of Music, then Mozart would win every time. He wrote great music even if I have no idea what is going on during the performance of it. Richard Rogers wrote bollocks.

So why do I continue to take part in this annual school event? Kids, that is why. I love watching kids doing anything that makes them happy. To help to facilitate them doing something sooooooo good as their annual musical is a wonderful thingy to do.

Plus, adding something to the total of human happiness in such a harsh world as we currently inhabit, can only be a good thingy. That alone is worth a teensy bit of personal suffering.

[SteveHopwood]

I read back that I mention before that I am not a fan of music theatre - and that includes the great operas. Sorry about that - I tend to post here having forgotten what I posted yesterday.

Moving on, there is not a lot of point in singing so dense that I cannot even pick up the language that is being sung, let alone the fact that I have no knowledge of the language being sung. You ever listened to a top class singer and having no idea of the language she is singing in? I have.

About 15 years ago, this teensy 11 years old called Amy came to me for piano lessons. Honestly, I have met bigger 7 year olds.

Her musical talent was immediately obvious. Along the way, she started to take singing lessons. Obviously I gravitated to being her accompanist for performances and exams. Her love of contemporary music theatre grew and grew and introduced me to a whole new repertoire by the likes of Sondheim et al. I did enjoy playing this stuff. For sure, it makes the drivel I have had to play these last two years look silly.

Amy gained a place at the London College of Music's Music Theatre course - a massive achievement given the competition in this line of work. I added her as a Facebook friend so I could keep a distant eye on her. It has been wonderful to watch her grow up.

Tonight I caught a couple of clips that Amy posted, where she is clearly one of the stars taking her final bows. She is still petite but clearly suited to the sort of role she was fulfilling.

You have no idea how proud this makes me feel.

I am a chuffed bunny tonight. The Amy's of this world fulfil my career.

[SteveHopwood]

I had a pleasant afternoon in school. I spent much of it trying to coax a decent solo recording out of Nikki, for her GCSE solo performance. Her biggest problem is inability to keep going after a slip, so this causes her to grind to a halt.

Easy enough to start again with a fresh recording - there is no limit on how many times the kids record their solo, so we record until there is a decent one in the can.

Thingy is, they have a spiel to recite before starting to play. This consists of: their name; candidate number; school centre number; description of the activity being recorded (ensemble/solo); title of the piece; name of the composer. The kids loathe doing this.

First time around, Nikki was within hailing distance of a usable recording when she broke down about a line from the end.

After that, here breakdowns came progressively nearer to the start of the piece - and each successive attempt had to be preceded by The Dreaded Spiel. At one point I said, "Don't worry Nikki. I will not get impatient. We will just keep on trying until it happens. Maybe today. Maybe next week. Nothing to worry about."

Inside I was screaming, "For crying out loud child, the deadline is May 2019 not May 2035."

About 15 attempts later we decided on one final try. Out came The Spiel, then the poor thing mishit the very first note. "Never mind sweetheart." I said, "We will try again next week. Best to go back to your next class, I think."

"Yes. Definitely." came the emphatic reply.

Fingers crossed for next week.

[SteveHopwood]

13 year old Amy is utterly adorable. Mid-teen girls can be impossibly pretty but along with those looks can often come an, "A hair out of place is a deep trauma" attitude to life. It is not an endearing attitude.

Amy is not one of those. Tall and gawky, she weighs next to nothing. She goes up quite a long way but outwards goes nothing at all. She gazes at me with huge, trusting eyes through vast-lensed glasses.

Any normal adults coming across Amy would find their instincts screaming: protect this child at all costs from anything even remotely nasty; feed her. Especially feed her.

I noticed her stifling a yawn and so said, "Sweetheart, I know that many teachers will go ape if you yawn in their lesson, but I am not one of them, OK? You want to yawn? Let it out. I really do not mind."

Amy is quite shy - until she sums me up properly at least. I suspect we have some entertainment to come from this young lady in the future.

She smiled uncertainly and replied, "Sorry. I did not want to seem rude."

"Has anyone, ever accused you of being rude?"

Came the shy reply, "No". Awwwwweeeeee

"Of course not. It is impossible to imagine." Amy bestowed upon me that tiny shy smile that I spend entire lessons trying to achieve, then we moved on.

Rare creatures, the Amy's of this world. I consider it a privilege that so many of them beat their way to my door.