No, I Don't Want To Wing It Anymore

Hi there,

When a punter comes up to say nice things about the band at the end of a set they often ask how long you've been playing together. I used to wear my response like a badge of honour: 'Oh we just met tonight at soundcheck'. 

I spent years making most of my living from freelancing - and that often meant stepping in for other singers at the last minute. No rehearsal, no meeting before the actual gig. Luckily there was a lot of the same repertoire going around and I would pride myself on looking like I belonged with each band, listening out for the changes in arrangement that each band inevitably makes as I busted a disco move to cover up any hesitation.'Winging it' definitely gives you great skills and they have come in handy. But I think I became a bit addicted to the adrenalin of performing on the edge, flying by the seat of my black leatherette pants (freelancer uniform in those days). And I just may have enjoyed a rescuer mentality - my eleventh hour jamming was getting the band out of their jam and they were usually very grateful. 

Every few years I seem to move into a different phase of work and I rarely 'wing it' nowadays. But recently I got a call, a blast from my 'fill-in' past and I wanted to get a fix again. Only I didn't enjoy it nearly as much as I used to. In fact there were times I felt downright uncomfortable. The thrill had gone and I was left hoping that no one I knew walked in and saw me because I simply wasn't at my best. So there it is, I've decided the sensation of a job well done turns me on most of all.

See you next time,
Amanda
www.amandaeaston.com

But that's MY gig!

Hi there,

I received an email recently asking me to quote on providing some regular entertainment at a local venue. Not long after I did so, I found myself pulled into a conversation thread that included an email from an irate entertainer. The entertainer was the one currently providing the music I was asked to quote on, as it turned out. His email to the booker went along the lines of: 'How f@#$&*$n dare you ask this Amanda Easton to quote on a gig I have been doing for years! This is my gig and you have no right to offer it to anyone else...' etc. I didn't hear from the venue again but I did wonder about the fate of that infuriated incumbent. Do any of us have any right of ownership over 'our' gigs?

I have semi-regular longstanding gigs, that because of overseas trips and the like, I've had to 'dep out' for a night or two. I always recommend the best possible replacement of course, out of respect for my fellows musos. I did this recently and next thing you know I see the advertising for this same show, but a different date (one I would have been available to do) featuring the dep instead of me. Hmm so I guess I lost that gig then.

I must admit there is a bit of 'what about me?' when that happens - reminiscent of that feeling I got when boys on the school bus would overlook me in favour of my prettier friend. But in the creative, transient and esoteric world of showbiz I don't think there is too much that is permanent or predictable and that's precisely what keeps it so enthralling. And, I have been that dep that's ended up becoming part of somebody else's regular show. Instead of thinking any performer is 'better' than another, I really believe 'everybody got their something' and sometimes somebody else's something is more suitable for some shows than others...and anyway, I'll be quite happy waiting for the next musical adventure to come along and sweep me and my something away.

See you next time,
Amanda
www.amandaeaston.com

20 Feet from Heartbreak

Hi there,

I know I'm not the only singer who went to see '20 Feet From Stardom' and felt the way I did - I sat in the cinema staring at the final credits rolling by, gulping back tears and trying to recover from the blow to the solar plexus the film served me. 

The lump in my throat was partly for the singer who received no credit for a No.1 hit she recorded that was released under someone else's name. Years after, she happened to hear the song on the radio - she was cleaning someone else's house to make a living at the time. The tears were partly for some of the most devastatingly talented singers I've ever heard and their disillusionment in the industry they loved that at times treated them so roughly. So many home truths, so much heartbreaking reality. 

Of course the tears were also for me. The documentary introduced us to singers who dreamt of being artists in their own right only to find after years of playing the support role for established acts, their dreams had passed them by. I spent years as a backing singer working with well known artists: Wendy Matthews, Richard Clapton, Powderfinger, and many more. Did all that work for others mean I didn't pour my heart fully into my own career? It sure was fun being on the road with some of the names I grew up with, appearing on TV, performing to full theatres and in auditoriums. Surely those experiences helped hone my own artistry too? 

I'll never know what would have happened if I'd taken a different path but I've decided not to dwell on what might have been but to see that glass, ideally with bubbly contents, as being half full. In the words of the diva with one of the most heartbreaking stories of all, je ne regrette rien! 

See you next time,
Amanda
www.amandaeaston.com

Do You Play Too Loud?

Hi there,

It's not very inspiring, when you're pouring your heart, soul and voice into a song and mid way through an impassioned top A, someone shakes a finger in front of your face. They are gesturing to you to 'turn it down!' and it's difficult to re-enter the emotional zone once the parade has been rained on.

But do we, as musos or singers, have to have our volume up to the Spinal Tap setting to feel the vibe? I think it depends - the mood of the band should match the room or at least the intended atmosphere of the occasion. Do people want to have conversations over cocktails? If everyone has fingers in their ears, I might get an inkling we need to turn it down. Or do our audience want to lose their inhibitions - and possibly control of their limbs - on a dance floor? If people want to cut loose and the music is too soft they will feel uncomfortable, even if they don't know why. Either way, much as we may not like it, it's not all about us! If we as bands don't fit the brief we've been booked for, venues will stop hiring us and maybe even come to the conclusion that 'live music just doesn't work'.

One of those dreaded emails about volume levels came around from management at a certain venue where I do a regular gig. It asked all bands to keep it down. Of course I grumbled, the guitarist grouched and the drummer groaned. But then we did as we were told and the guitarist took along his acoustic instead of electric, the drummer carried in his cajon instead of the usual small kit and I got to take my head voice and falsetto for a nice night out. We started the gig with pursed lips but then, a few songs in, we found ourselves enjoying playing together in this different, lighter mode, hearing each nuance. The audience loved it and we got booked again. Maybe we'll save our cover of 'Like My Love Pump' for another occasion then...
See you next time,
Cheers,
Amanda
www.amandaeaston.com

What a Singer can Learn from a Stripper

Hi there,

Many moons ago, a few friends and I decided it would be a fabulous idea to check out the seedy delights of Kings Cross in Sydney. Our road trip through sleazy showrooms and seamy strip joints brought us to an esteemed establishment where we were ushered to seats with another dozen or so punters. Soon after, a young woman ambled on stage in a tiny white bikini. She alternated smirking at the audience and looking for obvious guidance to a gentleman standing at the back of the room. She reminded me of a kid in their first kindy concert, but with fewer clothes. It was vaguely, darkly, humorous at first, watching a stripper in training. It became more interesting if you watched the trainer at the back of the room - the pupil on stage was trying to mimic the teacher's clunky gyrations and gestures, awkwardly pulling her bikini bits to the side to flash this and that and then looking out at us like a deer stuck in headlights.

Let's forget for a minute that we were not experiencing a slice of the often sad and unsavoury underbelly of our city and judge this strictly as a performance. Earlier that evening I had seen unmistakably more seasoned strip artistes flaunting their talents. The surrounds were equally salubrious but I didn't get the same depressing, distressing feeling I did at this last show. Those other women had looked as though they enjoyed their work and took pride in it, no matter how that kind of work may be judged by others. As a result, the audience got caught up in the moment and responded with enthusiasm. The white bikini girl was so uncomfortable and frightened, it was painful to watch for everyone.

Now I'm trying to equate anything I do with a strip show, but I have certainly performed at gigs where I have been less than prepared, proud or comfortable. But I've realised that no matter how much I wish the stage would open up and swallow me on occasions, it's my duty to look like I belong there, look like I'm enjoying it and do the best job I'm capable of. A performer that has committed to their art and is comfortable in their own skin, feels authentic to an audience and they react accordingly.

So there, I learnt all about commitment from a stripper!

Cheers,
Amanda
www.amandaeaston.com

Listen to your Mother

Hi there,
 
At what point do you get so good at doing something, there is very little room left for improvement? Or, when exactly is a dog too old to learn new tricks? 

The poster from my first ever cover band.

One of the comments, supposed compliments I hated getting in the early part of my singing career was: 'you've got so much potential'. I just wanted to be there, not always feel like I was just 'on the way'. But then, over the years and after hundreds of gigs, I could feel myself improving and I saw it all more like a steep hill you had to climb in order to get to that pesky 'potential', where you could surely afford to take a breather. 

But then my mum came to see me sing the other day and when I sat down with her in the break, she looked at me (or perhaps it would be more accurate to say 'looked right into me' like only a mother can) and said: 'you sing differently now'. I held my breath, steeling myself for criticism. She continued: ''I like it much better. You sing higher notes I didn't know you could and the notes move around more. You're a better singer,". I didn't like what I was hearing, because if I really had improved, there must have been something lacking before - and I thought I'd already climbed that hill! 

On reflection (OK and prodding from my husband) I realised what she said was great news - not only because being a better singer can only be a good thing but also, if I'm still learning then I mustn't yet be an old dog!!

See you next time,
Amanda

www.amandaeaston.com

So You Wanna Ditch the Day Job?

Hi there,

In the dim dark past I had a very well paid, secure full-time job with one of the biggest companies in the world. I was on a very clear upward path promising even greater riches and corporate-type rewards, so I should have been happy and grateful right?

Well, no. I had this niggling sensation that I was in the wrong place. I yearned for a badly paid job where I'd have to struggle for every dollar. A job with no sick or holiday pay, where you're constantly being judged. Where hours of preparation and work are in no way guaranteed to reap any kind of financial reward. So I jumped ship and became a full time singer.

I've been thinking back to those days because in the last week, two different people - one I know well and one I've never met - have decided they want to dump their corporate jobs to do music, and asked me about my experience.

One of the hardest things for me was telling my parents. They only wanted the best for me and had worked hard to send me to an expensive private school and put me through university. They were proud of my corporate career and regarded any music I did as nothing more than 'a nice hobby'. 

Julie Anthony & the St George Dragon

When I worked up the courage to tell them (just after I had told my employers, so there was no turning back) my mother cried for a week and my father told me it was the most stupid thing I had ever done. I still remember his comment: 'Why would you think you could do this? Do you really think you're as good as Julie Anthony?' I really only knew this singer from seeing her sing with a dragon on telly but I knew where he was coming from. Other people told me I was 'brave' which in many ways was a nice way to say 'dumb'. 

Anyway, it's not as if I became a millionaire pop princess that can now say to all the naysayers: 'See! I did the right thing! Look at me now!' But I have a job/life (singing is so much more than just a career) that I adore. I make a living doing what I love, so: 
'See! I did the right thing! Look at me now!'

Cheers,
Amanda

www.amandaeaston.com