When I left New York, I think that few of my friends understood my reasons.
To tell the truth... I am only beginning to understand myself.
My last 10 years there were so filled with activity, that I have to cut hunks of it up in my memory and slow it down to really see what happened. Don't get me wrong I loved the pace, the urgency of it all! Even if it was just an illusion... a figment of a collective imagining.
I do love that city! Sometimes I'd go out late at night and just walk.
Uptown, downtown, cross-town it didn't matter, I just wanted to be on the streets.
They were my streets.
Just before I left in the early 90's, I lived in a rather large apartment on 40th & 6th with my brother and his husband.
The three of us did not have a bad life, enough room to be out of each other’s hair & Bryant Park and the city at our doorstep.
If I could have only frozen that time, no... not out of a sense of nostalgia, or even because it was my "Golden time". No...simply cause we were all alive then.
Because it was before that Plague touched us.
Before the color started to drain out of our daily existence.
Now my brother and I live on opposite sides of the globe neither in NYC.
We don’t speak about our 'other' or the city, but sometime we speak of love...and then we know...we can only be visitors there now.
Why would you leave New York?
Well... Why wouldn't we?
Thursday, April 28, 2005
Draw a line ... And I'll cross it!
Why is it that no matter where I call home I can always find the pub/bar I need?
I say need, not because I have some kind of drinking problem, but because I am a people watcher, a strange sort of social voyeur.
Always in the crowd, but never really part of it.
I drink, Oh yes I do, but most importantly I find the atmosphere in a pub very comfortable, see I spent a lot of time in that environment when I was young, and mama was tending bar.
Having a nose for interesting pubs I will admit is a small gift, …but still I think it’s an amusing little gift.
It’s been a practice of mine for many years that, once or twice a month I go out to feel around for a pub.
From the time I bought my first legal drink, I have always done this alone.
I travel alone always have, and I like it that way.
Not that I’m anti-social, it’s just my nature to seek new places and people alone.
If I were anti-social why would I be looking for a pub anyway?
No, I travel alone because I have found by way of years of experience that I meet the most interesting people when I’m alone.
So that’s the way I do it.
Hey, do I look Irish in this!
New Rochelle NY the home of two of my favorite fictional TV characters, Rob and Laura Petry an ice rink a mall and not much else.
The bar where I purchased my first legal drink was located in New Rochelle NY.
It was on my birthday, my legal drinkin’ birthday.
As I remember it, I had plans to meet up with a few of my friends to bring in my birthday right, but that was hours away and I was itching to exercise my government given right to drink myself stupid.
There was this bar in New Rochelle called “The Shamrock”.
The Shamrock had been there as long as I can remember.
Don’t know if it’s still there but all the years when I was growing up I can remember it’s blacked out windows & the green neon shamrock over the door.
Whenever my friends and I would leave our much smaller town of Mount Vernon & go to the New Rochelle Mall we’d have to pass right by it.
The Shamrock seemed to always be open.
It didn’t matter what time of day you’d always see someone coming out or going in.
It was just the kind of place my momma told me to avoid (in fact I’m sure I have a memory of my mother pointing at it and saying … “Don’t ever go in there!”)
For some reason I thought this was just the place.
I have always gotten a big kick out of going where someone says I shouldn’t.
I love crossing the line.
As I walked in through the cheap dark veneer door with the worn gold plated knob and took my first look in I thought to myself mama was right.
As I walked in on the right stood a very large Irish bar bouncer.
I only mention he was Irish cause he was so Irish, or what Irish meant to me back then.
Red hair. Cherry cheeks, barrel chest and more than a little confused by my sudden & very Afro-American appearance.
The floor was covered with those black and white marble vinyl tiles, the kind they always put down in diners.
It was only seconds till I began to feel the vibe caused by my entrance into this very insular environment, so I announced firmly but not too loudly that I had come in to purchase my first “legal” drink!
This announcement warmed the pub by at least 12 degrees, every one of those rosy red faces (all male) turned towards me showed a mixture if amusement, surprise and if I’m not mistaken a wee bit of malice.
The crowd watched as I crossed to the bar and ordered the best single malt scotch the bar had.
That scored some points!
As the bartender reached down behind the bar I removed my hat and revealed my heavy mop of Dred locked hair, surprisingly there was only a single gasp of “Oh my Gawd!”
Just in time my scotch arrived, I made it vanish as quickly as it came.
Just then I heard someone shout “Davey…Give us your darts!”
I savoured, smiled & ordered another.
This time, no ice if you please… Davey.
I think most of the bar’s patrons were waiting to see if I keeled over after that second drink and when I didn’t… the third was bought for me.
I drank all night at the Shamrock, played darts and made friends that I would never see again.
I walked out hours later, tipsy but with that warm glow you can only get from crossing the line…and scotch.
I say need, not because I have some kind of drinking problem, but because I am a people watcher, a strange sort of social voyeur.
Always in the crowd, but never really part of it.
I drink, Oh yes I do, but most importantly I find the atmosphere in a pub very comfortable, see I spent a lot of time in that environment when I was young, and mama was tending bar.
Having a nose for interesting pubs I will admit is a small gift, …but still I think it’s an amusing little gift.
It’s been a practice of mine for many years that, once or twice a month I go out to feel around for a pub.
From the time I bought my first legal drink, I have always done this alone.
I travel alone always have, and I like it that way.
Not that I’m anti-social, it’s just my nature to seek new places and people alone.
If I were anti-social why would I be looking for a pub anyway?
No, I travel alone because I have found by way of years of experience that I meet the most interesting people when I’m alone.
So that’s the way I do it.
Hey, do I look Irish in this!
New Rochelle NY the home of two of my favorite fictional TV characters, Rob and Laura Petry an ice rink a mall and not much else.
The bar where I purchased my first legal drink was located in New Rochelle NY.
It was on my birthday, my legal drinkin’ birthday.
As I remember it, I had plans to meet up with a few of my friends to bring in my birthday right, but that was hours away and I was itching to exercise my government given right to drink myself stupid.
There was this bar in New Rochelle called “The Shamrock”.
The Shamrock had been there as long as I can remember.
Don’t know if it’s still there but all the years when I was growing up I can remember it’s blacked out windows & the green neon shamrock over the door.
Whenever my friends and I would leave our much smaller town of Mount Vernon & go to the New Rochelle Mall we’d have to pass right by it.
The Shamrock seemed to always be open.
It didn’t matter what time of day you’d always see someone coming out or going in.
It was just the kind of place my momma told me to avoid (in fact I’m sure I have a memory of my mother pointing at it and saying … “Don’t ever go in there!”)
For some reason I thought this was just the place.
I have always gotten a big kick out of going where someone says I shouldn’t.
I love crossing the line.
As I walked in through the cheap dark veneer door with the worn gold plated knob and took my first look in I thought to myself mama was right.
As I walked in on the right stood a very large Irish bar bouncer.
I only mention he was Irish cause he was so Irish, or what Irish meant to me back then.
Red hair. Cherry cheeks, barrel chest and more than a little confused by my sudden & very Afro-American appearance.
The floor was covered with those black and white marble vinyl tiles, the kind they always put down in diners.
It was only seconds till I began to feel the vibe caused by my entrance into this very insular environment, so I announced firmly but not too loudly that I had come in to purchase my first “legal” drink!
This announcement warmed the pub by at least 12 degrees, every one of those rosy red faces (all male) turned towards me showed a mixture if amusement, surprise and if I’m not mistaken a wee bit of malice.
The crowd watched as I crossed to the bar and ordered the best single malt scotch the bar had.
That scored some points!
As the bartender reached down behind the bar I removed my hat and revealed my heavy mop of Dred locked hair, surprisingly there was only a single gasp of “Oh my Gawd!”
Just in time my scotch arrived, I made it vanish as quickly as it came.
Just then I heard someone shout “Davey…Give us your darts!”
I savoured, smiled & ordered another.
This time, no ice if you please… Davey.
I think most of the bar’s patrons were waiting to see if I keeled over after that second drink and when I didn’t… the third was bought for me.
I drank all night at the Shamrock, played darts and made friends that I would never see again.
I walked out hours later, tipsy but with that warm glow you can only get from crossing the line…and scotch.
What happened to self - government and the will of the people?
"We exist, and are quoted as standing proofs that a government, so modeled as to rest continually on the will of the whole society, is a practicable government." --Thomas Jefferson to Richard Rush, 1820. ME 15:284
Thomas Jefferson was capable of truly stunning thought, but no more than we all are !
As a people our will can be a stunning force for the common good, for our world.
I realize that it is way too early in history to even hope for a world without borders or even one where our differences are praised, but neither is this country, this world, made of opposing parties each hoping to rule the others.
We have as Americans & as a world learned to sacrifice our common will to those with a "vision", our new "Kings" unfortunately we have also learned to believe that we have no right to self govern.
We play right into their hands, becoming more isolated, lonely & pathetic with every liberty that is taken from us, our power & strength being eroded away slowly until one day soon, our lives won't be worth living!
What fools we are!
We once protested any curtailing of our rights... And now we give them up freely.
We tell ourselves we have respect & reverence for our history, but our actions tell the real tale.
Protest has become comic and impotent.
So many sides pulling against the same piece of cloth tearing and ripping till there is nothing left and never thinking that the best fabric had been taken long before that threadbare swatch was thrown to us.
"The qualifications for self-government in society are not innate. They are the result of habit and long training." --Thomas Jefferson to Edward Everett, 1824. ME 16:22
Thomas Jefferson was capable of truly stunning thought, but no more than we all are !
As a people our will can be a stunning force for the common good, for our world.
I realize that it is way too early in history to even hope for a world without borders or even one where our differences are praised, but neither is this country, this world, made of opposing parties each hoping to rule the others.
We have as Americans & as a world learned to sacrifice our common will to those with a "vision", our new "Kings" unfortunately we have also learned to believe that we have no right to self govern.
We play right into their hands, becoming more isolated, lonely & pathetic with every liberty that is taken from us, our power & strength being eroded away slowly until one day soon, our lives won't be worth living!
What fools we are!
We once protested any curtailing of our rights... And now we give them up freely.
We tell ourselves we have respect & reverence for our history, but our actions tell the real tale.
Protest has become comic and impotent.
So many sides pulling against the same piece of cloth tearing and ripping till there is nothing left and never thinking that the best fabric had been taken long before that threadbare swatch was thrown to us.
"The qualifications for self-government in society are not innate. They are the result of habit and long training." --Thomas Jefferson to Edward Everett, 1824. ME 16:22
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
Step Up Groover!
It's no mystery to anyone that life can be very complicated.
How do you get from here to where you want to be!
Yes my friend life is filled with uncertainty.
And then, other times... your path is very simple.
The how of your life & what to do's become very basic.
If you're lucky this will happen @ regular intervals in your life.
I have never known anyone that was lucky enough to have a life without ever wondering... am I doing the right thing?
That being said...
Sometimes the point is simply to groove!
It don't matter much what the situation is, could be your life, could be your job.
You could be sittin' in with a Jazz combo when it comes on slowly.
Suddenly the way is clear.
The clouds between your ears part and you can hear the drummer laying some down, then you start to hear the bass, maybe some thick slabs of B3 come next.
(Stabbing horn section optional)
All this information starts crawling around the bandstand and it all becomes so clear!
You've done the work & all the pieces are there.
So you just groove!
Man, you are the groove!
All hot & slippery, solid & vaporous
Full bright light & joy.
Finally the light inside is switched on.
Everyone in the group is having their say, you can hear the conversation develop, then, when the groove is rock solid & you're deep in it.
You start passin' it around, tradin' fours, eights.
Each in their turn says what they feel, what they truly feel, cause ya can't hide nothing here...in this place at this moment there is only one truth.
You are there in the moment.
You groove, take it all in, till finally eyes start to glance at your way and they have only one message.
Step up Groover!
How do you get from here to where you want to be!
Yes my friend life is filled with uncertainty.
And then, other times... your path is very simple.
The how of your life & what to do's become very basic.
If you're lucky this will happen @ regular intervals in your life.
I have never known anyone that was lucky enough to have a life without ever wondering... am I doing the right thing?
That being said...
Sometimes the point is simply to groove!
It don't matter much what the situation is, could be your life, could be your job.
You could be sittin' in with a Jazz combo when it comes on slowly.
Suddenly the way is clear.
The clouds between your ears part and you can hear the drummer laying some down, then you start to hear the bass, maybe some thick slabs of B3 come next.
(Stabbing horn section optional)
All this information starts crawling around the bandstand and it all becomes so clear!
You've done the work & all the pieces are there.
So you just groove!
Man, you are the groove!
All hot & slippery, solid & vaporous
Full bright light & joy.
Finally the light inside is switched on.
Everyone in the group is having their say, you can hear the conversation develop, then, when the groove is rock solid & you're deep in it.
You start passin' it around, tradin' fours, eights.
Each in their turn says what they feel, what they truly feel, cause ya can't hide nothing here...in this place at this moment there is only one truth.
You are there in the moment.
You groove, take it all in, till finally eyes start to glance at your way and they have only one message.
Step up Groover!
Marshall McLuhan, reality T.V. & why The price of eternal vigilance is indifference.
Ok I'm gonna take the risk of sounding like some flipped out media student here but I have a few things to say about Television.
Yes... That's Television with a capital "T".
First make no mistake I love my T.V. in fact I have a few of them and I love them all equally and unconditionally, but I don't trust them!
Only a fool would!
Television brings entertainment, Information and even info-tainment (if you let it) into our lives. Television can do good things but we as watchers shouldn't let ourselves believe that it or the people that control it "care" about us!
Television should not only be watched but observed, for it has the potential to do us great harm. These days we seem to be so willing to give over so much of our belief to "The Box" and all those that find themselves on it, it is starting to become common belief that there is something special about our celebrities.
Nothing could be further from the truth!
They are made up of the same stuff as all humans, this is something to bear in mind when we are watching.
Yes... "The medium is the Message" but is it a message we should trust?
Of course not!
If recent history has taught us anything it is that we can't trust the people that have the awesome responsibility of presenting news, current event or even "reality" to us, we have now well & truly entered another age of the personal agenda.
Every bit of content is now subject to the point of view of those that present it, or those that control them.
We can't even be sure that what we are being shown is in our best interest in, fact we can be sure it is not.
For example now that we are at war and Michael Jackson's trial has started what has become of the millions dying in Africa?
What's going on in Bosnia?
These questions and so many more beg to be answered but somehow go unanswered how is this with news media budget rising to incredible new highs?
Why are we seeing the same stories aired at 11, 4, 5 & 11 again?
And why is the media leading us like lemmings to the precipice of vengeance in so many cases?
But most importantly why are we sitting on our fat asses and taking it?
Television could finally put the trouble between the races to bed, inspire us to really embrace "Personal Responsibility" for our world and it's people or even simply make us realize that we all share the same lives and the same fate.
Yes all that and more could happen...
If only we could just get real!
So if you do happen to find yourself on T.V. or working in it, start your day by remembering all the people you love and reminding yourself of how they are, in a very real and tangible way connected to the rest of us... and then behave the only way you can baring those facts in mind.
Yes... That's Television with a capital "T".
First make no mistake I love my T.V. in fact I have a few of them and I love them all equally and unconditionally, but I don't trust them!
Only a fool would!
Television brings entertainment, Information and even info-tainment (if you let it) into our lives. Television can do good things but we as watchers shouldn't let ourselves believe that it or the people that control it "care" about us!
Television should not only be watched but observed, for it has the potential to do us great harm. These days we seem to be so willing to give over so much of our belief to "The Box" and all those that find themselves on it, it is starting to become common belief that there is something special about our celebrities.
Nothing could be further from the truth!
They are made up of the same stuff as all humans, this is something to bear in mind when we are watching.
Yes... "The medium is the Message" but is it a message we should trust?
Of course not!
If recent history has taught us anything it is that we can't trust the people that have the awesome responsibility of presenting news, current event or even "reality" to us, we have now well & truly entered another age of the personal agenda.
Every bit of content is now subject to the point of view of those that present it, or those that control them.
We can't even be sure that what we are being shown is in our best interest in, fact we can be sure it is not.
For example now that we are at war and Michael Jackson's trial has started what has become of the millions dying in Africa?
What's going on in Bosnia?
These questions and so many more beg to be answered but somehow go unanswered how is this with news media budget rising to incredible new highs?
Why are we seeing the same stories aired at 11, 4, 5 & 11 again?
And why is the media leading us like lemmings to the precipice of vengeance in so many cases?
But most importantly why are we sitting on our fat asses and taking it?
Television could finally put the trouble between the races to bed, inspire us to really embrace "Personal Responsibility" for our world and it's people or even simply make us realize that we all share the same lives and the same fate.
Yes all that and more could happen...
If only we could just get real!
So if you do happen to find yourself on T.V. or working in it, start your day by remembering all the people you love and reminding yourself of how they are, in a very real and tangible way connected to the rest of us... and then behave the only way you can baring those facts in mind.
The Vegimite Conversion Kit
-The secret to business success is finding a hole in the market and filling it with a ridiculously high priced product that has little or no real value-
"A graduate of some American business school"
Any Australian will tell you how ridiculous it is to believe that every Australian has a pet kangaroo, that Steve Irwin & Crocodile Dundee are typical Aussies or that Most Australians ingest on a daily basis a dark, sticky, yeast based, foul smelling paste... Sorry that last one is actually true.
Vegemite...For decades Vegemite has been a basic staple of the Australian diet. Breakfast, lunch or dinner, Australians love the stuff. (Brits too, but sometimes it's Promite or Marmite I've tried them all and I can't make any distinction)
The way I heard it... it was discovered years ago by brewers who were trying to keep Australians supplied with beer and I imagine because of the incredible workload & responsibility involved with creating "liquid gold" they found just enough time to scrape their bread on the bottom of the barrels and feed on the thick yeasty residue that had collected there.
A tradition was born!
But the rich & sticky history of the mighty mite does not stop there.
The way I heard it... During World War II there was a legendary incident involving two German spies that had been painstakingly trained to impersonate Australians by the greatest minds German intelligence could assemble.
Their ingenious plan nearly succeeded! The two spies had managed to secure positions at the very heart of the Allied military intelligence structure, until during an innocent breakfast meeting all their training came undone.
During that breakfast one of the two did what they warned & trained not to do.
Without thinking, he ate a piece of toast smeared with Vegemite that was ironically there to make the two "Australian" officers feel at home.
Even with all his training there was no way he could hide his revulsion.
In that moment the course of WWII was changed.
Now in 2004, a time when Australia is accepting a great number of foreign-born citizens that have been politically displaced and come to Oz looking for freedom.
Middle easterners, Africans...Americans, who are unable to join in that core breakfast ritual of vegemite and toast and through that, solidify their assimilation into Australian society.
This sad condition would have continued if it were not for the tireless efforts of an Ex-Pat American visionary who longed to devise a way to make Vegemite (the food 90% of the world's starving millions would refuse to eat) palatable.
The process is nothing short of revolutionary but very secret.
All I can really tell you is that it involves soybeans, simple sugars and it erases every positive nutritional element that exists in Vegemite.
As is the case with most American innovations it addresses a surface issue, does some real damage and ignores all the substance.
Putting those small deficits aside never again will an American have to explain why he can’t eat Vegemite.
Finally... we can all be happy little Vegemites!
"A graduate of some American business school"
Any Australian will tell you how ridiculous it is to believe that every Australian has a pet kangaroo, that Steve Irwin & Crocodile Dundee are typical Aussies or that Most Australians ingest on a daily basis a dark, sticky, yeast based, foul smelling paste... Sorry that last one is actually true.
Vegemite...For decades Vegemite has been a basic staple of the Australian diet. Breakfast, lunch or dinner, Australians love the stuff. (Brits too, but sometimes it's Promite or Marmite I've tried them all and I can't make any distinction)
The way I heard it... it was discovered years ago by brewers who were trying to keep Australians supplied with beer and I imagine because of the incredible workload & responsibility involved with creating "liquid gold" they found just enough time to scrape their bread on the bottom of the barrels and feed on the thick yeasty residue that had collected there.
A tradition was born!
But the rich & sticky history of the mighty mite does not stop there.
The way I heard it... During World War II there was a legendary incident involving two German spies that had been painstakingly trained to impersonate Australians by the greatest minds German intelligence could assemble.
Their ingenious plan nearly succeeded! The two spies had managed to secure positions at the very heart of the Allied military intelligence structure, until during an innocent breakfast meeting all their training came undone.
During that breakfast one of the two did what they warned & trained not to do.
Without thinking, he ate a piece of toast smeared with Vegemite that was ironically there to make the two "Australian" officers feel at home.
Even with all his training there was no way he could hide his revulsion.
In that moment the course of WWII was changed.
Now in 2004, a time when Australia is accepting a great number of foreign-born citizens that have been politically displaced and come to Oz looking for freedom.
Middle easterners, Africans...Americans, who are unable to join in that core breakfast ritual of vegemite and toast and through that, solidify their assimilation into Australian society.
This sad condition would have continued if it were not for the tireless efforts of an Ex-Pat American visionary who longed to devise a way to make Vegemite (the food 90% of the world's starving millions would refuse to eat) palatable.
The process is nothing short of revolutionary but very secret.
All I can really tell you is that it involves soybeans, simple sugars and it erases every positive nutritional element that exists in Vegemite.
As is the case with most American innovations it addresses a surface issue, does some real damage and ignores all the substance.
Putting those small deficits aside never again will an American have to explain why he can’t eat Vegemite.
Finally... we can all be happy little Vegemites!
X-factor Australia
"Experience is not what happens to you; it's what you do with what happens to you." -Aldous Huxley
Truth be told I have always had a great affection for George Plimpton in his "paper lion" days.
For those that might not know the late Mr Plimpton was a journalist who, while writing for Sports Illustrated produced a series of articles from the perspective of a "participatory journalist."
Those adventures were and are a very important part of my development, Plimpton's adventures used his ability, (through his intelligence & broad knowledge base) to "fake" his way into some very intense professional sports situations, namely gridiron, baseball & boxing with varying degrees of success these articles in due course led him to produce a number of books written from the same perspective, the most memorable to my mind being "Paper Lion" in which he attempts to secure a spot with the Detroit lions Gridiron side as quarterback.
Curiosity and love of sports could be what led Mr Plimpton to chase these experiences.
For my part I have always been curious, but even in the broadest and most liberal interpretation I cannot be considered a sportsman, but I am a Musician & singer so I thought to myself in the spirit of Mr Plimpton I'd take myself down to the Melbourne auditions for the Australian version of the reality show X-factor.
Now in this age of "Reality Television" it seems that there is a new run of shows airing with each new month urging us to experience their particular brand of reality.
We should all know by now that not one of these productions offers us actual reality as that would be far too boring and besides aren't we all living that already?
Each of these events is structured to distil the essence of reality down to a usable 1hour format.
I, like many of you have thought as each new show popped up... whether it's the hunt for a new pop sensation, corporate mogul or bride/groom...
"Where do they get these people?"
So I loaded up my curiosity, note pad & digital camera and like a new millennium George Plimpton I took myself down to the Melbourne showgrounds to experience the X-factor auditions.
Maybe by the end of the day I will be able to answer the question...
What is the X factor?
The Wait & wait & wait...
I had expected the queue to be extremely long, as with that other talent search program, but the fact was that walk from the gate was much longer that the queue itself, the turnout was a little light.
All in all in seemed like less than 1000 people showed up on the first day of auditions.
As I joined the end of the queue I began to take a look around at my fellow auditioners in the diplomatically named 25+ category, some were working musos some dreamers and still others that had put their dreams on hold until this moment.
Some chatting, warming up, signing the releases production assistants were handing out & some beginning to feel the fear crawl under their skins, all straining at the bit to show that they are in full possession of the x-factor and waiting patiently for their shot.
As we queued we naturally broke off into smaller groups.
To my eyes they were: The passionate, the hopeful & the desperate and of course those that for one reason or another fail to fit into any classification... but we've all seen the blooper reels from these shows.
In small groups we were ushered inside past two tables where we were tagged with numbered X factor wristbands and pointed towards the first waiting room.
A barn-like room filled with row upon row of folding chairs, we were corralled, split off and pointed to sections with banners signifying our designations. "16 -25", "25+" & "Groups"
While we waited for our numbers to be called we were encouraged to join groups in the back of the hall to shoot promos for the shows premiere, there were also roaming camera crews shooting impromptu one on one mini interviews conducted by Chloe the female host of the show (It wasn't till later that I realised that Chloe was the former "just jeans" spokesperson here in Australia) I was one of the few to be interviewed, on the subject of vocal warm-ups and encouraged to sing a bit of something, which I gladly did.
As we sat waiting for our numbers to be called some did vocal warm-ups others had mini jam sessions anything to keep themselves sharp and give their best performances when the time came.
Periodically there were CD giveaways & performances by many of the hopefuls arranged by the crew.
As I sat there waiting, taking snaps & mini vid camera and watching the many that came back rejected I thought to myself that although it was curiosity that brought me to the audition my vanity wanted me to do well.
I had decided to sing a Sam Cooke tune, "Bring it on home to me" not a tune that plays to today's pop sensibilities but I sing it well and thought it would go down a treat.
Hours passed and it was my turn to step into the little audition room I had watched so many emerge from in defeat, I walked in, stood on my mark in front of two production assistants that looked as weary as the auditioners, opened my mouth to sing...
I think I got through most of a verse...
Before I heard...
"Thank you we won't be letting you through."
Well there it was, I did my thing and they did not believe I possessed that elusive x factor.
Whatever it is.
If you want the answer I guess you'll have to wait until the show airs but don't get your hopes up for big answers.
For my part all I can say of my experience is...
"Reality...What a concept!"
Truth be told I have always had a great affection for George Plimpton in his "paper lion" days.
For those that might not know the late Mr Plimpton was a journalist who, while writing for Sports Illustrated produced a series of articles from the perspective of a "participatory journalist."
Those adventures were and are a very important part of my development, Plimpton's adventures used his ability, (through his intelligence & broad knowledge base) to "fake" his way into some very intense professional sports situations, namely gridiron, baseball & boxing with varying degrees of success these articles in due course led him to produce a number of books written from the same perspective, the most memorable to my mind being "Paper Lion" in which he attempts to secure a spot with the Detroit lions Gridiron side as quarterback.
Curiosity and love of sports could be what led Mr Plimpton to chase these experiences.
For my part I have always been curious, but even in the broadest and most liberal interpretation I cannot be considered a sportsman, but I am a Musician & singer so I thought to myself in the spirit of Mr Plimpton I'd take myself down to the Melbourne auditions for the Australian version of the reality show X-factor.
Now in this age of "Reality Television" it seems that there is a new run of shows airing with each new month urging us to experience their particular brand of reality.
We should all know by now that not one of these productions offers us actual reality as that would be far too boring and besides aren't we all living that already?
Each of these events is structured to distil the essence of reality down to a usable 1hour format.
I, like many of you have thought as each new show popped up... whether it's the hunt for a new pop sensation, corporate mogul or bride/groom...
"Where do they get these people?"
So I loaded up my curiosity, note pad & digital camera and like a new millennium George Plimpton I took myself down to the Melbourne showgrounds to experience the X-factor auditions.
Maybe by the end of the day I will be able to answer the question...
What is the X factor?
The Wait & wait & wait...
I had expected the queue to be extremely long, as with that other talent search program, but the fact was that walk from the gate was much longer that the queue itself, the turnout was a little light.
All in all in seemed like less than 1000 people showed up on the first day of auditions.
As I joined the end of the queue I began to take a look around at my fellow auditioners in the diplomatically named 25+ category, some were working musos some dreamers and still others that had put their dreams on hold until this moment.
Some chatting, warming up, signing the releases production assistants were handing out & some beginning to feel the fear crawl under their skins, all straining at the bit to show that they are in full possession of the x-factor and waiting patiently for their shot.
As we queued we naturally broke off into smaller groups.
To my eyes they were: The passionate, the hopeful & the desperate and of course those that for one reason or another fail to fit into any classification... but we've all seen the blooper reels from these shows.
In small groups we were ushered inside past two tables where we were tagged with numbered X factor wristbands and pointed towards the first waiting room.
A barn-like room filled with row upon row of folding chairs, we were corralled, split off and pointed to sections with banners signifying our designations. "16 -25", "25+" & "Groups"
While we waited for our numbers to be called we were encouraged to join groups in the back of the hall to shoot promos for the shows premiere, there were also roaming camera crews shooting impromptu one on one mini interviews conducted by Chloe the female host of the show (It wasn't till later that I realised that Chloe was the former "just jeans" spokesperson here in Australia) I was one of the few to be interviewed, on the subject of vocal warm-ups and encouraged to sing a bit of something, which I gladly did.
As we sat waiting for our numbers to be called some did vocal warm-ups others had mini jam sessions anything to keep themselves sharp and give their best performances when the time came.
Periodically there were CD giveaways & performances by many of the hopefuls arranged by the crew.
As I sat there waiting, taking snaps & mini vid camera and watching the many that came back rejected I thought to myself that although it was curiosity that brought me to the audition my vanity wanted me to do well.
I had decided to sing a Sam Cooke tune, "Bring it on home to me" not a tune that plays to today's pop sensibilities but I sing it well and thought it would go down a treat.
Hours passed and it was my turn to step into the little audition room I had watched so many emerge from in defeat, I walked in, stood on my mark in front of two production assistants that looked as weary as the auditioners, opened my mouth to sing...
I think I got through most of a verse...
Before I heard...
"Thank you we won't be letting you through."
Well there it was, I did my thing and they did not believe I possessed that elusive x factor.
Whatever it is.
If you want the answer I guess you'll have to wait until the show airs but don't get your hopes up for big answers.
For my part all I can say of my experience is...
"Reality...What a concept!"
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