'Take the Money and Run' Gigs

aka The Corrimal Leagues Club Syndrome

One day I got a call from ah...Mr S, offering me a gig at a leagues club down the South Coast of NSW. Mr S's regular singer had a family function on this particular night so he needed a replacement and a friend of a friend had recommended me.  The gig would be a duo gig - I'd be singing along to backing tracks with some guitar strumming courtesy of Mr S, most likely surrounded by poker machines and disinterested punters. I said yes to the gig, even though it was far from the type of work I wanted to do. At this time, I was in the middle of recording my first album and I was doing lots of wonderful band gigs with talented musos in great Sydney venues. But as a freelance singer relying on the ups and downs of work in the music world, I sometimes filled the gaps with what I called 'take the money and run' gigs like this one.

Anyway, a month later - two days before the gig - Mr S calls me to say his regular singer could do the gig after all so I would no longer be needed. Now to describe how I felt at this... I didn't really ever want to do the gig, but I wanted to be the one to say no! I thought I was above the gig - yes arrogant I know - yet I was the one being rejected. Mr S actually said, 'look I'm sorry, but this is not just any gig, it's Corrimal Leagues Club you know. I don't want to lose the gig by using just any singer.'

Now I'm going to name drop here but I need to put this into perspective. At this time, I had just performed with Powderfinger at the ARIA Awards at The Entertainment Centre and was about to go on tour with Wendy Matthews. I was speechless when Mr S made it clear he didn't think I was good enough for his corner-of-the-pokie-room gig. But I did manage to regain my voice in time to spit out the most impressive parts of my musical cv down the phone line. And I do remember finishing with something like: 'so I think I could probably handle Corrimal Leagues Club don't you?'

I didn't handle the situation with much grace, and I know it was my fault I was in the situation at all. Mr S didn't know me from Adam and he was only protecting his turf. He shouldn't have cancelled me last minute but if I thought I was so good, what was I doing accepting a gig that I considered so far beneath me? I would have been better off leaving myself free in case another, 'better' gig came along.

In a similar situation a few months later I took a gig with a Mr H. He didn't cancel me last minute - unfortunately. I did the gig with my eyes on the door the whole time - worried someone I knew might walk in and see me. After the gig, I got in my car to head the hour and a quarter home. Ten minutes into the drive my car broke down. I sat by the side of the road waiting for the NRMA for over an hour. Did I mention the torrential rain? I had to be towed to a mechanic near my home and the towing charge cost me $20 more than my gig earnings that night.

I did eventually learn my lesson and I now call this the Corrimal Leagues Syndrome. And whenever I get asked to do something that doesn't feel right for me, but I'm tempted to do just for the money, I remember Mr S!

Disclaimer: Corrimal is a nice place and I'm sure they've got some great entertainment at their local Leagues Club :)

In Praise of the local RiSsoLe

Entertainment in RSL, Leagues and Bowling Clubs in Australia gets a bad rap - a proliferation of mother-in-law jokes, and over-ruched and bedazzled frocks are probably to blame. But I think it's time that cabaret became cool again. After all, it doesn't sit too far upstage from Burlesque which is enjoying a major renaissance. Think Marlene Dietrich in a man's suit or the smoky charisma of Edith Piaf rather than bad wigs and over-emoting Shirley Bassey wannabes (don't get me wrong, I love the real Shirley!). I've been thinking about this for a couple of weeks now, ever since I did my own first solo cabaret gig - and loved it. Friends have been telling me for a while that these kind of gigs would be my bag - with your style being so 'theatrical'. It would be rude, after all to actually call me a 'ham' directly.

For many musos nowadays, their bread and butter gigs look like this: three to five sets of 45 minutes each, packed with popular hits ('Play Khe Sahn, ga wonnn!) They're told to set up in the corner of a room usually occupied by the pool table. They're one of many distractions in the room including the telly, the Keno and the pokies. They have to drag in their own sound system, set it up and be their own sound engineer. The crowd in the room completely ignores them until the last song of their final set at 1.05am when they cheer and stomp and beg the exhausted musos to 'play one more, ga wonnn!' The 'backstage' area is otherwise known as the public toilets and they'll get dirty looks for their trouble if they dare ask if the soft drinks are complimentary for the band.

OK, this is worst case scenario - I am very lucky to be mostly playing venues with old school entertainment values like The Basement, Notes, Vanguard, Lizotte's and Blue Beat. And it is this old-schoolness that so impressed me at my cabaret gig. On arrival I was ushered into a spacious dressing room with lights around the mirror. I was offered cold drinks, tea and coffee. I was introduced to the MC, the sound and the lighting engineers. I was welcomed on stage by the more than 600 audience members who were there specifically to be audience members and who proceeded to hang on ever word sung and spoken. They clapped, cheered and laughed appropriately and enthusiastically. After my 50 minute set (yes, one set of 50 minutes) I thanked everybody, picked up my cheque and was home by 1pm - yes, 1 in the afternoon. And on a Wednesday I might add!

After such a pleasant experience, I sent emails to eight other cabaret agents asking for more gigs. Each one replied to my email within 24 hours. If you'd like to come along and see what I'm on about, check my calendar for the gigs I've titled 'Cabaret'. Of course your presence will be helping to bring down the average age of the cabaret audience, but being among the youngest people in a room is actually quite nice. And look, I know that 'Clubland' is hardly musical nirvana but after what I've discovered, I do think that Cabaret doesn't have to be a dirty word.