Malik, Music & Me.

I've never had a serious love affair with music. There I've said it. I've always wanted to but it's just ...never happened for me. 

I enjoy music certainly, I have my favourite artists and have, in the past, attended concerts or gigs. I'm not saying that I'm impervious to music - it's more that I very rarely manage to connect meaningfully to it regardless of how much I want to. With very few exceptions, I go to concerts when someone chooses to take me to one and my catalogue of preferred artists is small, unfocused and uninformed. I rarely choose to listen to music over spoken word podcasts or go to a concert over a night at the theatre. I'm bemused, although envious, when people can lose themselves in music, naturally feel and follow a beat or return from classical concerts flushed with happiness and emotion.

Thankfully, however, there are the odd exceptions. This won't improve my image but I'll admit that musical theatre songs almost always work for me - although that's probably because they're so lyric centric. Jazz and old Torchsongs hit me where it matters and so make up a vast majority of my iTunes collection. Yeah, when I find what works for me I never let it go. Which is why I instantly bought both of Sixto Rodriguez's albums when I first heard them and continue, over a year later, to listen to them on a constant loop. I've gone alone to his concerts and bought the DVD of Searching for Sugarman, the documentary that brought him back to our attention. And it's why I can't stop thinking about the recent suicide of the director of the film Malik Bendjelloul. 

I think that for many people a particular song is important, not just for the music itself, but for its connection with an emotion, event or person. The way in which I was introduced to Rodriguez was incredible enough to create all those lasting connections for me instantly. I went to a Secret Cinema event, where you don't know what you're seeing, and it was a preview of Searching for Sugarman. We were at the beautiful Troxy in East London and it was packed. The film, in which Bendjelloul uncovers the amazing story of Rodriguez's iconic status in South Africa was responsible for bringing the singer-songwriter back to fame, delighted the audience. The soundtrack was Rodriguez's music and, by the end of the film, you loved him and his music. So when, in an outstanding finale, the real Rodriguez came onto the stage and played a concert you felt like a hardcore fan who'd waited forever for this opportunity to see him live. People were crying, surging forward and running close to the stage to touch the icon himself. Behind a curtain, just left of the stage, was the quiet, humble man responsible for making all this happen. Bendjelloul had chased this story for four years, using his iPhone when he ran out of money and never giving up. He'd told an amazing story beautifully and given Rodriguez the opportunity of a lifetime. 

Midway through the concert, exhilarated and joyous, I confidently drew back the curtain and reached out to Bendjelloul. Although enjoying the success of his film, he was defiant about ensuring Rodriguez got the lion's share of the attention and accepted my praise humbly. This was before the film shot to fame and won an Oscar so he was conscious about networking and, although I'm in no way a big fish, when I pitched the idea of the film becoming a stage musical he eagerly swopped cards with me and we began an email correspondence on the idea. Of course the film took off massively and he set off on a huge tour and heaven's knows what else. There was a big dip in communication but then, after a while, he got back in touch. He was busy and had next to no time but he just sent a sweet, polite email to let me know why he'd gone quiet and to thank me for my support. Him being so nice was the icing on the cake - there was nothing I didn't love about the film, the music and the people. 

Since that night I've found that listening to Rodriguez's music gives me that rare feeling of emotions bubbling up, memories of the night, the atmosphere of the larger story associated with the film and the first time Rodriguez stepped onto the stage. I'm not always conscious of the separate aspects of course, just of the overall feeling of wellbeing, excitement and connection when the music starts. I've taken the album on long drives, train trips, listened while working on hard projects...it's a great companion. I've started listening more closely to lyrics, understanding the metaphors and the aspects of songs I rarely stick with long enough to notice. Although Malik is not responsible for the music itself he is irretrievably tied up in my experience of it and so, when I heard that this young, handsome, ambitious, talented, humble man had died I was shocked. When I heard it was suicide, due to depression, I was beyond words. 

Look, there's recently been a spate of high profile suicides and early deaths and a lot of debate about whether the public outpouring of emotion is misplaced and phony due to the fact that, for the most part, we didn't even know these people personally. I don't have a clear opinion on this either way. I do think it's a bit ridiculous to mourn so publicly for a stranger but I'm also aware that these people were still presences in our lives, and those who seemed young and untouchable, so shock and sadness is a natural response. I knew next to nothing about LeWren Scott or Peaches Geldof but I was still saddened by their deaths. I didn't know Malik either, I met him but I didn't know him. However I felt, and still feel, a sadness on a different level for his death. My thinking is full of cliches such as 'such a waste', 'he had so much going for him' and on and on. Of course I know nothing about his personal life or his experience of depression. Regardless I haven't stopped thinking about him. Perhaps it's as simple as a man I met, whose hand I touched and who was nice to me committed suicide and I can't understand why. Maybe it really is just a normal human reaction to that simple fact. Maybe it's because his work affected me so much and I'm mourning the impossibility of more of this. Or maybe it's just that he was a young man who, despite achieving what so many only dream of, was so desperately unhappy. 

Whatever the reason may be I know that he made his mark on the world and in my life. Either way it seems fitting that as I wrap this article up, having listened to Rodriguez's albums while writing, the song I Think of You is playing. 

To you, Malik.

The Triple A - Actually Acting Again!

It's been so long since I've put on my acting hat. Not just stepped on to a stage or in front of a camera, but even applied for jobs, attended auditions. I've done nothing. No new headshots. I wasn't even sure whether to renew my Spotlight this year. It's odd when you consider my number one aim has always been to be an actress. 

When you tell your parents you want to be an actress they are rarely over the moon. Although I'm lucky enough that mine do find the whole theatre thing exciting and are very supportive, they're also two extremely practical entrepreneurs who made me think over every possible alternative to such a tough, unstable career. They've never blindly applauded my talents, only congratulating me when they've actually enjoyed a performance. They've suggested becoming a barrister (ensuring me "It's just like acting!"), discussed possible second strings to my bow and drummed the adage into me "Be an actress if it's the only thing you can imagine doing with your life". I do agree with this statement and so, as someone with a good education and a degree, I have wondered numerous times whether there's another route I should be taking. It's not that I think I'm better than anyone else, truthfully I want desperately to be standing on stage night after night. It's more that sometimes I think that it's a selfish route to take. I know that entertaining people or finding a way to illuminate others and their situations in itself is not selfish, but entering a profession where there are already more than enough talented people able to do the same...well that feels like I'd be better use elsewhere. 

A combination of that and my natural impatience to see something happening means that I've spent my first few years out of university flitting around various roles within the entertainment industry. I've written, directed, produced, promoted and performed. I've essentially done anything to make sure that I have something substantial to my name. If I can ensure getting a new show of good quality and entertainment value to the stage as a producer I'll do that rather than attend audition after audition. After a while of doing this I figured that maybe I'd found my 'second string'. That acting was not the only thing I could see myself doing and therefore, following the logic through, not what I should be doing. 

There's only one problem with this. I miss acting. I try to pretend I don't. I don't really call myself an actress. I'm not pushy and feisty at auditions, I haven't created a vehicle for myself and I'm not willing to give up everything else and hedge my bets I'll 'make it'. Regardless,  there is nothing else that gives me the same feeling as giving a kick ass performance to an appreciative audience. Perhaps my issue is that I don't see myself as multi talented. I don't dance, I'm not fantastic at accents and I'm pretty shy about putting myself forward for things. Perhaps my issue is that I quite simply haven't had the opportunity for a really long time to be in a quality production. There's a lot of unpaid, profit share, slapdash work that it's easy to get involved in. The last thing I was in was at a small London fringe theatre last year and, although it was great to be given the opportunity to hit the stage and the team was very passionate, there was a real lack of focus, of strong directorial vision and of pace. It was difficult for a lot of the talented actors involved to shine in their roles and the play suffered from this. When you can't afford to flit from one unpaid role to another it's important that the opportunities you get are powerful enough to keep you going. This wasn't and, for that reason, I fell back to being behind the scenes and, by now, heading towards my thirties (eek) I thought this is where I'd stay. 

Auditioning recently for Rikki Beadle-Blair's takeover of the Bush Theatre was a pointed act of desperation on my part. I drove the whole process: finding the casting call, applying immediately, checking obsessively for responses and taking a five hour journey to the audition for an unpaid, small, one off role. I was ill on the day of the audition, so ill that I passed out on the train and considered cancelling, but forced myself along. I'd read the entire play, learned the side sent to me and arrived an hour early. I didn't get the role. It was a week later that I noticed another role come up and so, the day before the first rehearsal I emailed at 11pm and secured myself a tiny part. It felt crazy to be putting so much effort in for something so tiny. It's the kind of thing that actors have to be doing daily and the reason why I find it so difficult to work with so little control over what you're offered and who you get to work with in the end. Truthfully it could have been another big disappointment and, if that was the case, I have no idea how I would have felt. But I was lucky. This time my hard work paid off. The script I was given was very funny, the director was the awesome Rikki Beadle-Blair and my scene partner a thoughtful, hard working and easy going guy. Rehearsals were good fun and the people I met all passionate, supportive and talented. A lot of the time I felt quite shy and a bit of a fish out of water. So many of the other actors had just done one show and were going straight into another. Or they'd been to drama school. I was terrified. The good news is...it went really well. The audience was packed, I was on the blooming BUSH THEATRE STAGE (!!!) and our performances got lots of laughs. For the first time in about three years I felt that acting high I thought I'd never feel again.

Hopefully it's enough to make me give it all another go. Step 1: I've renewed my Spotlight. Step 2:...all advice appreciated!

Update: I DID get paid for this. It wasn't unpaid acting work. I'm thrilled! I mean, I didn't know at the time and, if anything, this has showed me to be a tad sharper on discussing fees and whatnot but, come on, I was excited! Thanks again to Rikki Beadle-Blair.