The show is currently in Vancouver for another seventeen days, then on to Edmonton for a month, and then Winnipeg for another month.
J. and I had good visits with family and friends in California on our way up here from Arizona, although it was during that horrible heat-wave a couple of weeks ago. But it was great to see everybody, and reconnect with my considerable past history in the Golden State.
We had stopped in Lafayette (east bay), Sacramento and Nevada City. Then after visiting friends in Truckee, our trip to Canada truly began.
Early on Saturday morning, July 29th, J. and I drove to Reno and caught highway 395 heading towards Mount Shasta.
It was a beautiful sunny day, not at all hot up north, and Mount Shasta glimmered with snow above the rich green pines.
There was a LOT of smoke on the CA-OR border; there must have been serious fires in the area. The sky finally cleared up about halfway up the state.
We stayed at a nice RV park just north of Eugene, then continued on our way early Sunday, July 30th. It really doesn't take much time to get through Washington, and before we knew it, we were getting close to the Canadian border!
We decided to go on through the check-point and arrive at the RV park in Vancouver a day early; we were originally scheduled to arrive on Monday, July 31st.
Unfortunately, the traffic at the border crossing was HORRENDOUS because of the week-end at the height of summer season. We ended up getting in the right lane which was a mistake, because there was an entrance ramp ahead of us on the right where many cars "in the know" cut in line ahead of us. But we finally arrived at the booth an hour-and-a-half later.
Since I am working in Canada for an extended period of time, the border agent waved us to the side after looking at our passports, and we had to get out of the truck and walk to a nearby building to show them and the "introductory letter" from the Phantom company to the agents there. Thankfully, that's all the documents they requested and we were processed quickly.
On to Vancouver! We arrived just after the sun set, and all the skyscrapers twinkled with myriad lights. It's truly the most amazing skyline I've ever seen; many of the buildings actually relate architecturally to one another, creating a unified whole. The hills and water and general ambience remind me very much of nearby Seattle.
Since we had forgotten our detailed map, we had to navigate with a tiny inset map of Vancouver included with the Rand McNally atlas page of BC. We wended our way through the twisting, congested downtown streets with the trailer (!!) and managed to find the RV park across the river in North Vancouver.
This is when the "fun" started.
The RV park turned out to be very unpleasant. It seemed to be run by Native Americans, much like a casino; very high prices, poor service, and a "f___-you-all-we're-just-going-to-take-your-money-and-if-you don't-like-it-you-can-go-somewhere-else" kind of attitude!
So we DID leave, the next day.
Since we had arrived a day early, and the RV park was utterly and completely full, we had to park without any hookups in an "overflow area", and still paid top dollar for the privilege.
We were exhausted and J. certainly didn't feel like cooking, so we walked to a nearby mall and found a pub which had a full dinner menu.
It was a very interesting dining experience.
The pub was very dark and there were quite a few tables and booths set apart from the bar, which had two giant screen TVs blaring out soccer (also TVs in each corner of the room, as well) and music from the '70s/'80s was going nonstop. The place was pretty deserted late on a Sunday night, with the surprising exception of a huge family with a bunch of screaming rug-rats, eating dinner at a corner table at nearly 11 p.m.!
J. and I sat at a booth with a big window overlooking an outdoor patio. A young guy and gal obviously on their first date sat at a table immediately on the other side of this window, which was very disconcerting to me. It was like they were sitting at the same table as us, separated only by glass.
There was no privacy whatsoever....it reminded me of those "reality dating" shows! I saw all sorts of scenes which were straight out of TV. The young gal was obviously very taken with the young man; had her hands all over him all the time, and they paused often between sips of wine and occasional bites of food and drags off his cigarette to cram their tongues down each other's throats. This happened literally three feet away from me!
This "dating show" theme was taken to a new level when the young guy excused himself to go to the washroom, and the gal helped herself to the rest of the guy's dinner (she had already wolfed down her own). I could just see the caption on the screen: "DATING NO-NO #3: EATING LIKE A PIG".
After the guy returned to the table, looking at his bare plate with perplexity, the gal excused herself and went inside. The guy immediately activated his cellphone and I wondered if he was either giving a buddy a progress report or perhaps lining up another date with a more promising prospect?
Anyway, these young people were certainly not doing anything wrong and were having a good time, but I probably should have insisted that we move to another booth. Oh well -- it was entertaining, in a way!
J. and I got up early on Monday morning to see which lot we were going to be situated at, since a huge group of people had just left (the managers couldn't tell us which lot we were going to occupy; not very organized, just greedy).
We finally parked the trailer at lot #8, tightly jammed between two other RVs -- the place was truly packed like sardines! -- and then we spent the next several hours trying to line up internet service in the trailer.
When J. had first made reservations on the phone, he was told that there WAS indeed service at the park, but it turned out to be two casino-like "slot internet machines", one in the front office and the other in the rec centre/laundry room, which cost $1 for only 12 minutes, and were always occupied by young kids. This was totally unacceptable to us!
So J. spent a lot of time on the pay-phone with both the phone and cable companies, surrounded by screaming kids in the rec room (along with yet another young couple sucking face!), trying to line something up....and it turned out that this particular RV park neighborhood was one of the few that didn't have either of these services!
There we were, paying top-dollar to stay at this RV park, not only with no internet access to our site, but they were charging us $2/day to keep our cat, who never leaves the trailer -- later we found out that this was NOT any kind of Canadian ordinance, it was just at the whim of the RV park management.
So we called the other RV park in the Vancouver area, a bit further away from downtown (it's actually in Burnaby, east of Vancouver), who said that there was plenty of space there and that they DID have internet access at each site! So we drove out there to check it out, and it is the cutest RV park imaginable, and cheaper than the first one.
We returned to the bad park to hitch up the trailer and leave, and I received a full refund of my money. I explained to the management why we were not staying, and they were not at all apologetic or sympathetic. The Native American man who seemed to be running things just stood stoically with his arms akimbo in the background, looking like a chief carved in stone, while I firmly but politely told him along with the native receptionists that this is the 21st century and that they need to have internet access at each site like most RV parks do across North America, and that they're charging too-high prices for very little service in general. I also complained about the $2/day pet thing, and the guy said that it was some sort of "law". Later I found out that this was NOT the case, so he was just being greedy. Ugh, and double-ugh!
At the next RV park, the manager was supposed to set aside lot #121 for us; she assured us that it was ours. But when we arrived there a few hours later, we discovered that it had been rented to someone else in the interim. Uh-oh! Not more problems!
However, there was another available site with phone service, although it wasn't as nice as the first, and a bit farther away from the wi-fi tower in the main building. Well, okay....it was still much better than the previous park.
We finally got settled in around six o'clock Monday night. I practiced a bit of horn, took showers and then we crashed early.
I forgot to mention that when we checked out the second RV park, we took the SkyTrain system to downtown Vancouver and back to see if I can take public transportation to work. It turned out to be pretty nice, but the trip can take up to 50 minutes each way. If J. shuttles me back and forth, it's an 11-mile, 20-minute drive. Gas works out to be over $4.00 a gallon here, so it's probably best that I take public transportation as often as I can. The stations are pretty near both the RV park and the theatre downtown.
We've been in Canada only a few days, but already see that it appears to be a bit more polite than the States, at least here in the Vancouver area. People don't seem to be quite as much in a rush, and they're very helpful and friendly. They're sort of innocent in a way. Also very serious and earnest. There's a lot of ethnic diversity here, except for a lack of black people. LOTS of Asians and a few Middle Easterners.
A friend who has visited Canada frequently made the observation that she thought that Canadians' behavior is very similar to ours back in the 1950s, and this does ring true for me as I observe these low-key, courteous people.
I was surprised to find that the SkyTrain tickets are on the "honor system"; you buy the tickets at a machine but don't insert them anywhere later; an agent may check for this "proof of purchase" on the train at any time, but chances are, they won't -- so conceivably, one could ride the rails for free.
Certainly some Americans would take full advantage of this, but it doesn't seem to occur to the Canadians to abuse it -- at least, as far as I can tell at this early stage. Very, very interesting difference here.
A couple of days ago, J. finally had to buy gasoline here in Canada for the first time since we arrived; the tank of our Chevy "hog" truck was nearly empty. Guess how much it cost to fill up?
$138.51! A new record.
Good thing I'm taking the train to and from work. Hopefully we can last on this tank of gas for our remaining time in Vancouver.
Last night on the way in to the show, there were several interesting characters to observe on the train.
A very proper, squat elderly man sat primly across from me, stocky legs squeezed together. He was wearing a black suit with checked shirt and typically British collar, tie, sensible black shoes....and he had some sort of Knights of Columbus or Masons pin affixed to his left lapel. It had that Maltese cross kind of look. He sported a short grey beard and had black bushy eyebrows; the right one was way up his forehead, while the left one scowled just above his eye. His dark eyes popped out of his head in an eternal look of surprise, while his mouth was fixed in a permanent grimace. Perhaps he'd had a stroke.
The young obviously college-age girl sitting next to him was fresh-faced and earnest in that Canadian way, dark pigtails, zip-up grey hooded sweatshirt, jeans and flip-flops. She was studying out of her notebook with all sorts of scientific scrawls and diagrams, while reaching into her knapsack periodically to eat mushrooms! Whole, cleanly white large mushrooms. Yummy!
I got off the first train to make my transfer to the second; waited at the platform along with a few other people. Some weird emanation of energy made me look at the man at my left, and I suddenly realized that he was the SAME crazy guy who'd been on the train over the weekend, yelling at a father with two pre-teen girls, warning them to stay clear of the doors. The father had yelled back at him that he "had the situation handled" and it escalated into a heated arguement until the little family disembarked a few stops later.
Then the crazy guy started talking to everyone in general, insisting that he "meant no disrespect"....."if those little girls want to kill themselves, just go ahead; I don't care anymore!". Later, he asked me what time it was.
He looks to be in his late fifties, possibly a Vietnam vet (didn't seem quite Canadian), maybe an alcoholic or reformed drug user. In any case, it looks like he's lived a hard life. Maybe he's made a career out of riding the trains. What are the chances of encountering the same person twice in such a big city?
It's been raining "frog piss" style for two days now. The air feels very heavy and moist here, which zaps my energy. But at least I'm not broiling in 100-degree-plus temperatures as I did in the States!
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Caught Between Two Worlds
mood | sad ]
[ music | none. sound of traffic sporadically driving past our house. ]
J. and I are currently at home in Bisbee, AZ....for only two weeks.
It is becoming increasingly hard to leave home, every time we have to go back on the road after these all-too-short breaks.
But it is very, VERY nice to be home right now -- perhaps the lesson really is, to ENJOY THE MOMENT and not think about anything else.
But this is sometimes more of a challenge than we would like. But it is a worthwhile goal, and we will indeed rise to the occasion!
(Ah, a ray of hope amidst my pensiveness this evening.)
[ music | none. sound of traffic sporadically driving past our house. ]
J. and I are currently at home in Bisbee, AZ....for only two weeks.
It is becoming increasingly hard to leave home, every time we have to go back on the road after these all-too-short breaks.
But it is very, VERY nice to be home right now -- perhaps the lesson really is, to ENJOY THE MOMENT and not think about anything else.
But this is sometimes more of a challenge than we would like. But it is a worthwhile goal, and we will indeed rise to the occasion!
(Ah, a ray of hope amidst my pensiveness this evening.)
Monday, June 26, 2006
The TOP TEN Questions People Ask the Pit Musicians
I was recently asked the question (paraphrased), "Do people from the audience talk to the musicians in the pit orchestra?".
Yes, they DO!
Some pits are more accessable to the audience seats than others; it depends on the theatre.
The front row of seats can be so close to the edge of the pit that people cannot move freely along it; it is only accessable to the occupants of those particular seats. So interaction between audience members and musicians is reduced.
Other times, the pit-rail is either too thick, covered with stage lights which separate them from the audience, or the pit itself is considerably lower than the seat level of the auditorium. In these cases, conversation between audience members is minimal.
Occasionally, people overcome these obstacles by yelling "Hey YOU!" or "EXCUSE ME!" at the musicians. In those cases when they're particularly rude, we simply ignore them; otherwise, we usually respond.
After nine years and thousands of performances of "Phantom", a definite pattern of recurring questions from audience members has emerged! We in the pit call it "The Top Ten Questions People Ask":
THE TOP TEN QUESTIONS PEOPLE ASK THE PHANTOM MUSICIANS
1. Do you travel with the show?
2. How long have you been playing with the show?
3. Where are you from?
4. Where are you staying?
5. Where do you go next? (or, where were you previously?)
6. Don't you LOVE playing this music? (or, do you ever get TIRED of playing this music?)
7. Where's the trumpet? (or organ, trombone, oboe, bassoon, harp etc.)
8. How many musicians are playing?
9. How do you like St. Louis? (or Denver, Buffalo, etc. We've been to most big cities.)
10. Is this all you do?
It is a very interesting process, answering these questions which people have asked us pit musicians so many thousands of times. We are flattered that they show an interest, so we try to answer as politely and completely as possible. On the other hand, it is a challenge to keep from being annoyed at being confronted with the same old questions, over and over again, year after year.
But it is just part of our job, and we accept that. We musicians are on the "front lines"; "ambassadors" for the company as it were -- the first ones to interact with the audience members before the performance begins, as well as during intermission.
This is quite different from my previous jobs with symphony orchestras, where there is virtually NO interaction between audience members and musicians; we're tucked away onstage at a considerable distance from the audience seats.
Most folks are polite, but occasionally we'll get a real stinker! In the worst cases, we usually ignore them, which is often possible because of the distance between the edge of the pit and the musicians' chairs; we can always pretend that we didn't hear them, or that we're about to tune, or that we're diligently caring for our instruments, or we're looking over our parts (like we NEED to, after all these years!)
Yes, it is a very interesting job. In a future entry I will document some of the more interesting questions people have asked over the years, that are NOT on the Top Ten list above.
Yes, they DO!
Some pits are more accessable to the audience seats than others; it depends on the theatre.
The front row of seats can be so close to the edge of the pit that people cannot move freely along it; it is only accessable to the occupants of those particular seats. So interaction between audience members and musicians is reduced.
Other times, the pit-rail is either too thick, covered with stage lights which separate them from the audience, or the pit itself is considerably lower than the seat level of the auditorium. In these cases, conversation between audience members is minimal.
Occasionally, people overcome these obstacles by yelling "Hey YOU!" or "EXCUSE ME!" at the musicians. In those cases when they're particularly rude, we simply ignore them; otherwise, we usually respond.
After nine years and thousands of performances of "Phantom", a definite pattern of recurring questions from audience members has emerged! We in the pit call it "The Top Ten Questions People Ask":
THE TOP TEN QUESTIONS PEOPLE ASK THE PHANTOM MUSICIANS
1. Do you travel with the show?
2. How long have you been playing with the show?
3. Where are you from?
4. Where are you staying?
5. Where do you go next? (or, where were you previously?)
6. Don't you LOVE playing this music? (or, do you ever get TIRED of playing this music?)
7. Where's the trumpet? (or organ, trombone, oboe, bassoon, harp etc.)
8. How many musicians are playing?
9. How do you like St. Louis? (or Denver, Buffalo, etc. We've been to most big cities.)
10. Is this all you do?
It is a very interesting process, answering these questions which people have asked us pit musicians so many thousands of times. We are flattered that they show an interest, so we try to answer as politely and completely as possible. On the other hand, it is a challenge to keep from being annoyed at being confronted with the same old questions, over and over again, year after year.
But it is just part of our job, and we accept that. We musicians are on the "front lines"; "ambassadors" for the company as it were -- the first ones to interact with the audience members before the performance begins, as well as during intermission.
This is quite different from my previous jobs with symphony orchestras, where there is virtually NO interaction between audience members and musicians; we're tucked away onstage at a considerable distance from the audience seats.
Most folks are polite, but occasionally we'll get a real stinker! In the worst cases, we usually ignore them, which is often possible because of the distance between the edge of the pit and the musicians' chairs; we can always pretend that we didn't hear them, or that we're about to tune, or that we're diligently caring for our instruments, or we're looking over our parts (like we NEED to, after all these years!)
Yes, it is a very interesting job. In a future entry I will document some of the more interesting questions people have asked over the years, that are NOT on the Top Ten list above.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
A Young Woman Horn Player's Visit to the Pit
Last night, I came back into the pit at the Fox Theatre at the end of intermission and witnessed the tail-end of a conversation between the Principal horn and a young woman from the audience.
She was leaning over the pit rail to look at our music. E. asked her how long she's been playing the horn. She replied, "Since sixth grade, about eight years ago, but I don't play much now that I'm in college".
E. commented that playing the horn for FUN is the "best way"....not to try making a living at it! (I laughed inwardly.)
The young woman asked, "How's the music?" and E. said, "It's fairly difficult, with a lot of high notes and loud playing". She peered at his part again and noticed a high C-flat. "That's not so hard. The music looks only 'medium' to me".
E. held up his horn towards her and said, "Here, would you like to play it?"
"Oh, no", she muttered, and quickly disappeared into the crowd.
She was leaning over the pit rail to look at our music. E. asked her how long she's been playing the horn. She replied, "Since sixth grade, about eight years ago, but I don't play much now that I'm in college".
E. commented that playing the horn for FUN is the "best way"....not to try making a living at it! (I laughed inwardly.)
The young woman asked, "How's the music?" and E. said, "It's fairly difficult, with a lot of high notes and loud playing". She peered at his part again and noticed a high C-flat. "That's not so hard. The music looks only 'medium' to me".
E. held up his horn towards her and said, "Here, would you like to play it?"
"Oh, no", she muttered, and quickly disappeared into the crowd.
Saturday, June 24, 2006
Explosion Follow-up
The night following the explosion, my colleague on Principal horn gave me the inside scoop on the gun's "premature emission" last Tuesday night. His girlfriend works in the Wardrobe Department, so he hears about virtually everything which happens in the company.
Apparently, the actor who plays the Marksman got some of the gunpowder in his eye and had to go to the Emergency Room at a nearby hospital. His eye was flushed out successfully and he's all right, thank goodness.
He insists that he did NOT pull the trigger prematurely; that it was a "pyro issue" with a overly-hot mixture of powder. This is what I figured had happened.
It is interesting to note that although the actor is supposedly "okay" now, he has NOT made a return appearance as the Marksman for the remaining shows this week!
Apparently, the actor who plays the Marksman got some of the gunpowder in his eye and had to go to the Emergency Room at a nearby hospital. His eye was flushed out successfully and he's all right, thank goodness.
He insists that he did NOT pull the trigger prematurely; that it was a "pyro issue" with a overly-hot mixture of powder. This is what I figured had happened.
It is interesting to note that although the actor is supposedly "okay" now, he has NOT made a return appearance as the Marksman for the remaining shows this week!
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
A VERY BELATED HAPPY NEW YEAR! -- An Un-YOO-usual Night at the Theatre
HAPPY NEW YEAR!! Now that it's half over...
Many apologies for not keeping this blog up-to-date! It would be a daunting task to document everything that has happened since I last wrote in December, and I'm not very good at writing a short, concise "Reader's Digest" version. But I'll do the best I can!
J. and I took possession of our "new" 1976 Airstream travel trailer in February, and we truly enjoy being back in the RV lifestyle after living in gloomy, cold corporate apartments for nine months. I'll try to post a picture of our 23-ft.-long silver baby in a future entry when I can figure out how to do that.
Phantom is in the middle of a four-week run here in St. Louis. We're staying at an RV park right downtown; the only big city in America that we know of that has an RV park in such a central location. (They're usually way out in the 'burbs.) We're only a few blocks from the Fox theatre where the show is playing. My commute is all of seven minutes, which is great.
It's VERY hot and humid here right now; temps are expected to exceed 95 today (with high moisture, being near three big rivers: the Mississippi, Missouri and Merrimac). J. and I are pretty much staying inside our little air-conditioned trailer for the rest of the day.
Last night, something happened at the show which has NEVER happened before.
The marksman, who carries a gun into the pit during Act II accidentally pulled the trigger about thirty seconds early. Or, perhaps there was something wrong with the mixture of powder; sometimes the pyro guys get excited.
No-one -- least of all the conductor, standing right next to him -- was prepared for the unusually LOUD explosion which usually takes place after a series of lines exchanged between the marksman and the actors onstage.
The explosion occured directly next to the conductor's head and stunned him to the point where he sank to his knees on the podium, moaning. The doltish actor didn't know what to do; clearly he was more worried about dropping his lines than anything else. A few seconds of shocked silence followed, then the marksman finally got off the podium while the actors fumbled around for their dialogue, which they eventually locked back onto.
Meanwhile, our conductor stumbled off the podium and croaked out to one of our keyboard players, who's also the assistant conductor to replace him on the podium. None of us knew if the regular conductor was seriously hurt or not.
He sat with his head in his hands for only a few moments, then indicated to the assistant that he was ready to resume conducting, and got back onto the podium.
He seemed okay after that, but everyone in the pit was obviously concerned. After the final chord in the exit music, people asked him how he was, and he said that he was all right.
Whew! Live theatre sure can have its "Special Moments"!
Many apologies for not keeping this blog up-to-date! It would be a daunting task to document everything that has happened since I last wrote in December, and I'm not very good at writing a short, concise "Reader's Digest" version. But I'll do the best I can!
J. and I took possession of our "new" 1976 Airstream travel trailer in February, and we truly enjoy being back in the RV lifestyle after living in gloomy, cold corporate apartments for nine months. I'll try to post a picture of our 23-ft.-long silver baby in a future entry when I can figure out how to do that.
Phantom is in the middle of a four-week run here in St. Louis. We're staying at an RV park right downtown; the only big city in America that we know of that has an RV park in such a central location. (They're usually way out in the 'burbs.) We're only a few blocks from the Fox theatre where the show is playing. My commute is all of seven minutes, which is great.
It's VERY hot and humid here right now; temps are expected to exceed 95 today (with high moisture, being near three big rivers: the Mississippi, Missouri and Merrimac). J. and I are pretty much staying inside our little air-conditioned trailer for the rest of the day.
Last night, something happened at the show which has NEVER happened before.
The marksman, who carries a gun into the pit during Act II accidentally pulled the trigger about thirty seconds early. Or, perhaps there was something wrong with the mixture of powder; sometimes the pyro guys get excited.
No-one -- least of all the conductor, standing right next to him -- was prepared for the unusually LOUD explosion which usually takes place after a series of lines exchanged between the marksman and the actors onstage.
The explosion occured directly next to the conductor's head and stunned him to the point where he sank to his knees on the podium, moaning. The doltish actor didn't know what to do; clearly he was more worried about dropping his lines than anything else. A few seconds of shocked silence followed, then the marksman finally got off the podium while the actors fumbled around for their dialogue, which they eventually locked back onto.
Meanwhile, our conductor stumbled off the podium and croaked out to one of our keyboard players, who's also the assistant conductor to replace him on the podium. None of us knew if the regular conductor was seriously hurt or not.
He sat with his head in his hands for only a few moments, then indicated to the assistant that he was ready to resume conducting, and got back onto the podium.
He seemed okay after that, but everyone in the pit was obviously concerned. After the final chord in the exit music, people asked him how he was, and he said that he was all right.
Whew! Live theatre sure can have its "Special Moments"!
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Significant Others on the Road
I recently received the following question in response to my previous entry, and would like to answer in a new one rather than in "comments" -- because it is a very good question!
It was really interesting to read about your touring situation. I am curious, though..... how many of the people on the tour have significant others who live in different parts? I would imagine that it would be a real challenge to maintain a relationship while on the road.
I would say that at least half the members of the 90-member company have significant others. Of this group, probably about a quarter of them travel together on the road. The rest stay at home, or are on other tours.
In the orchestra, for example, the concertmaster's boyfriend flies out from Cleveland to visit her once a month over an extended weekend, so this happens roughly once in each new city. He is not a musician.
The cellist's boyfriend also plays the cello professionally, a freelancer in the L.A. area, and has come out to visit once in the four months that our new cellist has been with us.
The assistant conductor (who also plays one of the keyboards) had his cellist wife with us for about five years, playing in the orchestra. Their son was born while both were touring. When he reached school-age, the cellist quit the tour in order to provide him with consistent schooling. (So we got the new cello player in August.) Husband and wife take turns flying back and forth to visit each other every month or so.
The second violinist's boyfriend was the Head of our Sound Department for a number of years. But several years ago, he quit the Phantom tour to join the touring production of "Mamma Mia", currently in Las Vegas for an extended run. His schedule is fairly flexible and he often comes to see the violinist whenever we are playing. She also takes time off occasionally to visit him.
The bass player met his future wife while touring. She used to fly out to visit him every month or so. Then they got married, and she joined him on the road. Now they have a four-year-old daughter who they are "home schooling".
The other assistant conductor/keyboard player's wife and three children travel with him about half the time. Otherwise they live in Las Vegas.
One of the woodwind players is dating someone who works in the company's Hair Department.
The Principal horn player is dating a woman who works in the Wardrobe Department.
The percussionist (who's also the show contractor) is now seeing a woman who had gone to college with him many years ago, and they've recently re-connected. She is a high school band director in Mississippi. He flies out to visit her on many of our Mondays off. She has also come out on the road to visit him occasionally.
My partner J. has traveled with me for nearly seven years now. His primary "job" was to take care of our Airstream travel trailer, and provide a home for us. We had a serious accident on July 4th and totalled both the trailer and our tow-vehicle. We rolled one-and-a-half times and are lucky to be alive, emerging from the accident with only minor cuts, bruises and a little whip-lash.
We've been staying in corporate apartments (like everyone else in the company) since then, and have come to HATE it. So we have gotten past our fears and are getting another Airstream trailer and a new tow vehicle in the next couple of months, and will resume our wonderful life in the Spring. J. will have his rewarding job back!
It is indeed challenging to maintain long-distance relationships while on tour. Some do it successfully while others fail. It all depends on the couples.
Early on in our commitment, my partner and I decided that we would NOT have a long-distance relationship. He was able to leave the real estate business he had built up with his mother and join me on the road very soon after we'd met. It has been a wonderful odyssey together ever since!
It was really interesting to read about your touring situation. I am curious, though..... how many of the people on the tour have significant others who live in different parts? I would imagine that it would be a real challenge to maintain a relationship while on the road.
I would say that at least half the members of the 90-member company have significant others. Of this group, probably about a quarter of them travel together on the road. The rest stay at home, or are on other tours.
In the orchestra, for example, the concertmaster's boyfriend flies out from Cleveland to visit her once a month over an extended weekend, so this happens roughly once in each new city. He is not a musician.
The cellist's boyfriend also plays the cello professionally, a freelancer in the L.A. area, and has come out to visit once in the four months that our new cellist has been with us.
The assistant conductor (who also plays one of the keyboards) had his cellist wife with us for about five years, playing in the orchestra. Their son was born while both were touring. When he reached school-age, the cellist quit the tour in order to provide him with consistent schooling. (So we got the new cello player in August.) Husband and wife take turns flying back and forth to visit each other every month or so.
The second violinist's boyfriend was the Head of our Sound Department for a number of years. But several years ago, he quit the Phantom tour to join the touring production of "Mamma Mia", currently in Las Vegas for an extended run. His schedule is fairly flexible and he often comes to see the violinist whenever we are playing. She also takes time off occasionally to visit him.
The bass player met his future wife while touring. She used to fly out to visit him every month or so. Then they got married, and she joined him on the road. Now they have a four-year-old daughter who they are "home schooling".
The other assistant conductor/keyboard player's wife and three children travel with him about half the time. Otherwise they live in Las Vegas.
One of the woodwind players is dating someone who works in the company's Hair Department.
The Principal horn player is dating a woman who works in the Wardrobe Department.
The percussionist (who's also the show contractor) is now seeing a woman who had gone to college with him many years ago, and they've recently re-connected. She is a high school band director in Mississippi. He flies out to visit her on many of our Mondays off. She has also come out on the road to visit him occasionally.
My partner J. has traveled with me for nearly seven years now. His primary "job" was to take care of our Airstream travel trailer, and provide a home for us. We had a serious accident on July 4th and totalled both the trailer and our tow-vehicle. We rolled one-and-a-half times and are lucky to be alive, emerging from the accident with only minor cuts, bruises and a little whip-lash.
We've been staying in corporate apartments (like everyone else in the company) since then, and have come to HATE it. So we have gotten past our fears and are getting another Airstream trailer and a new tow vehicle in the next couple of months, and will resume our wonderful life in the Spring. J. will have his rewarding job back!
It is indeed challenging to maintain long-distance relationships while on tour. Some do it successfully while others fail. It all depends on the couples.
Early on in our commitment, my partner and I decided that we would NOT have a long-distance relationship. He was able to leave the real estate business he had built up with his mother and join me on the road very soon after we'd met. It has been a wonderful odyssey together ever since!
Saturday, December 17, 2005
How do I like touring?
I subscribe to an online yahoogroups list of horn players, and receive a "digest" of emails sent daily. I occasionally post to the group, in reply to questions about my life on the road. This is how I responded today:
On Dec 17, 2005, at 8:12 AM, horn@yahoogroups.com wrote:
Cameron,
How do you like touring? It's a great place to get experience for
better things to come.
Nancy
Dear Nancy (and List),
It is the opposite situation with me. I'd already had 21 years of professional orchestra playing experience (Nashville, Mexico (Toluca), Sacramento and San Jose when I first went on the road with "Phantom" over eight years ago.
Although our 12-member touring orchestra does have some younger members (our concertmaster is 26) the average age of our pit musicians is probably around 45. I am 51. One of our musicians is in her late 50s. Many of us "older" ones have already played in major symphony orchestras. A lot of young musicians emerging from conservatories are trying to get orchestra jobs, not tour with a Broadway show.
Of course, times are changing and jobs are ever harder to come by, so this is not quite as pronounced as it was a few years ago.
This is ironic, because the current trend is to carry less traveling musicians with touring productions on new shows. Phantom, with its comparatively large amount of travelers, is an exception; this particular touring company was established thirteen years ago at a time when touring orchestras were bigger.
In symphony orchestras, I played much of the rep and experienced many conductors and soloists. I performed the "usual suspects" (Tchaikovsky, Beethoven, Dvorak etc.) many, many times. I was ready for something different by the time the Sacramento Symphony went bankrupt in 1996.
Believe it or not, playing "Phantom" over and over again is much the same as playing Tchaikovsky 5th for the upteenth time. Phantom is a bit less tiring, though.
As with any job, there are positive and negative aspects. Overall, I believe that the older musicians come to touring jobs with a broad perspective, already having had their fill of the symphonic scene. We've "been there and done that".
Of course, there's something special about playing one of the "classics" in a big orchestra -- those rare magical moments we've experienced which keeps us wanting more -- and I hope to do so again someday as a freelancer. But at this stage in my professional career, touring is a nice change of pace.
I find that the most challenging aspects of being on the road is living in cities I do not care for; having to find where everything is all over again each month; changing environments from one climactic extreme to the other which is hard on the body, and especially, dealing with horrible traffic.
Sincerely,
Cameron
horn, (US) touring company of "Phantom of the Opera"
P.S. We will be playing some cities in Canada this summer! (Calgary, Saskatoon, Edmonton and Winnepeg)
On Dec 17, 2005, at 8:12 AM, horn@yahoogroups.com wrote:
Cameron,
How do you like touring? It's a great place to get experience for
better things to come.
Nancy
Dear Nancy (and List),
It is the opposite situation with me. I'd already had 21 years of professional orchestra playing experience (Nashville, Mexico (Toluca), Sacramento and San Jose when I first went on the road with "Phantom" over eight years ago.
Although our 12-member touring orchestra does have some younger members (our concertmaster is 26) the average age of our pit musicians is probably around 45. I am 51. One of our musicians is in her late 50s. Many of us "older" ones have already played in major symphony orchestras. A lot of young musicians emerging from conservatories are trying to get orchestra jobs, not tour with a Broadway show.
Of course, times are changing and jobs are ever harder to come by, so this is not quite as pronounced as it was a few years ago.
This is ironic, because the current trend is to carry less traveling musicians with touring productions on new shows. Phantom, with its comparatively large amount of travelers, is an exception; this particular touring company was established thirteen years ago at a time when touring orchestras were bigger.
In symphony orchestras, I played much of the rep and experienced many conductors and soloists. I performed the "usual suspects" (Tchaikovsky, Beethoven, Dvorak etc.) many, many times. I was ready for something different by the time the Sacramento Symphony went bankrupt in 1996.
Believe it or not, playing "Phantom" over and over again is much the same as playing Tchaikovsky 5th for the upteenth time. Phantom is a bit less tiring, though.
As with any job, there are positive and negative aspects. Overall, I believe that the older musicians come to touring jobs with a broad perspective, already having had their fill of the symphonic scene. We've "been there and done that".
Of course, there's something special about playing one of the "classics" in a big orchestra -- those rare magical moments we've experienced which keeps us wanting more -- and I hope to do so again someday as a freelancer. But at this stage in my professional career, touring is a nice change of pace.
I find that the most challenging aspects of being on the road is living in cities I do not care for; having to find where everything is all over again each month; changing environments from one climactic extreme to the other which is hard on the body, and especially, dealing with horrible traffic.
Sincerely,
Cameron
horn, (US) touring company of "Phantom of the Opera"
P.S. We will be playing some cities in Canada this summer! (Calgary, Saskatoon, Edmonton and Winnepeg)
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Chandelier drop -- or, "The Rain of Stones"
Every once in awhile, something unexpected happens in live theatre. Phantom of the Opera is certainly no exception.
Actually, it is amazing that there are not more mishaps in this show, given the complexity of the sets (there are many electronic moving parts) and the various explosions throughout the performance. Most of the time, everything runs like clockwork.
Except for last night.
When the chandelier drops at the very end of Act I, the descent begins far above the heads of the audience, usually in the first ten rows of seats. The orchestra plays a series of rapid runs as the chandelier drops directly downward. It then sweeps horizontally towards the stage, barely missing the conductor's head on its way, and passes over the footlights.
As the orchestra plays its final punctuated chord, the lights are suddenly extinguished so that the audience does not see the stagehands behind the heavy chandelier. They are ready to grab it on both sides to keep it from swinging back and forth from the momentum of its journey.
The chandelier is tethered by a series of cables. Sometimes, in its final descent on the stage, some of the wires can become tangled as the stagehands reach for it -- especially if it is moving faster than usual. Last night was one of those nights. Some cables brushed against the many strings of plastic, faceted beads of various sizes (to look like glass, of course) and some popped off. This has happened occasionally over the years, so I've been able to collect quite a few beads which make it into the pit.
There was a huge cascade and rattle of beads on the stage, which sounded like a hailstorm.
Since I am now playing Principal for the next three weeks (while the regular 1st horn is home for Christmas) my chair is situated a few feet away from the edge of the stage, rather than underneath as usual.
I was hit on the head by a flying bead, and pulled my horn closer to my body to protect it from any further rain of stones.
The concertmaster was likewise hit (it didn't hurt, but could have scratched an instrument) and is saving her bead as a souvenir.
The flute player directly ahead of me found a bead under her chair, and gave it to me. So I've got only two new beads to add to my collection.
This kind of "live theatre moment" helps keep this show fresh for us, many of whom have thousands of performances under our belts!
Actually, it is amazing that there are not more mishaps in this show, given the complexity of the sets (there are many electronic moving parts) and the various explosions throughout the performance. Most of the time, everything runs like clockwork.
Except for last night.
When the chandelier drops at the very end of Act I, the descent begins far above the heads of the audience, usually in the first ten rows of seats. The orchestra plays a series of rapid runs as the chandelier drops directly downward. It then sweeps horizontally towards the stage, barely missing the conductor's head on its way, and passes over the footlights.
As the orchestra plays its final punctuated chord, the lights are suddenly extinguished so that the audience does not see the stagehands behind the heavy chandelier. They are ready to grab it on both sides to keep it from swinging back and forth from the momentum of its journey.
The chandelier is tethered by a series of cables. Sometimes, in its final descent on the stage, some of the wires can become tangled as the stagehands reach for it -- especially if it is moving faster than usual. Last night was one of those nights. Some cables brushed against the many strings of plastic, faceted beads of various sizes (to look like glass, of course) and some popped off. This has happened occasionally over the years, so I've been able to collect quite a few beads which make it into the pit.
There was a huge cascade and rattle of beads on the stage, which sounded like a hailstorm.
Since I am now playing Principal for the next three weeks (while the regular 1st horn is home for Christmas) my chair is situated a few feet away from the edge of the stage, rather than underneath as usual.
I was hit on the head by a flying bead, and pulled my horn closer to my body to protect it from any further rain of stones.
The concertmaster was likewise hit (it didn't hurt, but could have scratched an instrument) and is saving her bead as a souvenir.
The flute player directly ahead of me found a bead under her chair, and gave it to me. So I've got only two new beads to add to my collection.
This kind of "live theatre moment" helps keep this show fresh for us, many of whom have thousands of performances under our belts!
Friday, December 09, 2005
Trip from Denver to Cincinnati. HORRIBLE snowy highway experience here!
This is the first time that I have been able to catch my breath here in the "new show city" of Cincinnati, after a very hectic two days of travel and then two intense days of rehearsals and first several shows. I don't have to be at work until tonight's show at 8, hooray!
The 1,200-mile trip from Denver to Cincinnati was uneventful. We left Denver immediately after the final show on Sunday night, and drove for three hours before stopping at a Super 8 motel in Goodland, Kansas, a few miles over the border, at 1:30 Monday morning. We usually try to get to the next state the first night; it's psychologically gratifying.
There was a dusting of snow on the plains in eastern Colorado and western Kansas, which gradually faded out as we headed further east. It took most of Monday to get across Kansas; the state is about 450 miles long from end to end. We passed through Kansas City during rush-hour -- not too bad actually -- and then across the northern part of Missouri to St. Louis.
That stretch of I-70 has always been dismal; it's a rutted, winding highway with lots of traffic, but it seemed slightly less horrible this time. Perhaps they've done some work on the road since our last trip across, a couple years ago.
We drove through St. Louis at about 10:45 p.m. and continued on into Illinois. J. had made motel reservations at a Motel 6 in Effingham, Illinois where we arrived at 12:30 a.m. Tuesday.
It snowed a little overnight, so we were greeted with a couple inches of the white stuff when we got up around 9:30. J. made tea for our two "bullet" thermoses, and we stopped at Starbuck's for scones and pumpkin cake for our breakfast on the road. We had about a five- hour drive remaining to Cincinnati.
It is interesting to see that Starbuck's has expanded their locations to include some highway exits on interstate highways lately. I have always noticed the glaring lack of decent coffee on our travels throughout the country; it's nearly impossible to get anything other than truck-stop rocket fuel. Perhaps this is changing now with more Starbuck's appearing at highway exits.
We continued to see snow flurries on our drive through Illinois and Indiana. We arrived in Cincinnati around 4:30 Tuesday afternoon, and checked into our hotel, the Hannaford Suites on exit 12 of I-71.
It's a surprisingly nice hotel; much better than the Residence Inn in Denver. Our place is actually a SUITE, with a separate bedroom. We're on the ground floor so the windows in both bedroom and living areas are nearly floor-to-ceiling. The lack of light in our room in Denver had nearly killed us. It was SO depressing!
Our "digs" at the Hannaford Suites are a cut above the usual bland corporate apartment setting, with sage-colored walls rather than white, and passable upholstery on the couch and chairs. J. won't have to cover them up with canvas drop-cloths, as he did in our rooms at the two Candlewood Suites in July/August, Residence Inn during November/December and the little garage apartment we had stayed at in Atlanta in September.
Like Candlewood, Hannaford Suites does not have an oven, so we're forced to use the microwave. Unlike Candlewood, however, this kitchen does not have a dishwasher!
I jumped right back to work bright and early on Wednesday morning. Here's my typical first-day-in-the-new city schedule:
9:30 - 11:30 a.m. Seating & Sound Check
1:00 - 2:00 p.m. Sound Check / Tapes
2:00 - 4:30 p.m. Tech Rehearsal
8:00 p.m. Preview #1 (first show)
But yesterday, Thursday, was the DAY FROM HELL because of the snow here in Cincinnati.
I need to rant and rave for a few moments!
It started snowing just as J. drove the twelve miles to downtown to pick me up after the matinee ended at 3:40. He said that the inbound traffic was starting to thicken up, but not too badly as the snowflakes started whirling down. And he said that there was no outbound traffic at all.
By the time we got to the outbound lanes a few minutes later, though, it was bumper-to-bumper traffic. The snow was falling rather heavily but the roadway itself was not very clogged with the white stuff, since there were so many cars driving over it.
I admire and encourage driver caution, but these people were OVERKILL. Haven't they ever driven in snow? When I attended CCM in Cincinnati thirty years ago, it snowed like this two or three times each winter. So it seems to me that people here should know how to drive in it.
But NO! Everyone freaked out. The highways were totally clogged for hours, for no apparent reason. Even at its worst, the road conditions were not so bad that drivers couldn't have gone about 35 mph, and would have been perfectly safe.
Since the average speed was 5 mph (when we weren't stopped), the highways were a virtual parking-lot. There may have been some folks with nearly-empty gas tanks who hadn't expected to be stuck on the highways for several hours, so there were quite a few cars abandoned at the side of the roads. There were even some abandoned cars right in the MIDDLE of them!
It was as though there had been a nuclear holocaust and that major panic set in -- all bets were off! Almost total panic which was unnecessary.
It took J. and me nearly an hour to drive the twelve miles up the clogged highway to our rooms at Hannaford Suites. J. had prepared a delicious dinner of posole and sauteed veggies before picking me up. As we ate, we watched the Weather Channel and local Cincinnati news stations which predicted as much as six to eight inches of snow by midnight.
We took a nap for an hour and then got up at 6:30. J. suggested that we leave even earlier than we had planned, which was already early -- just in case traffic was still horrible on the way back downtown.
Well, it was WORSE.
This time, it took an hour and a half to drive 12 miles! Incredible.
The snow had accumulated to about three inches by that time, but the road conditions were not really so bad. J., who's from south Georgia and hadn't driven in snow until he joined me on the road seven years ago, did a far better job of driving in it than these people in Cincinnati! He was cautious, but not freaked out, and could easily control the car at speeds up to 35 mph. -- while these folks couldn't seem to drive faster than 5 mph.
There were more abandoned cars along the roadway (did they run out of gas?) and some huge semi-trucks were even parked in the left or right lanes, causing traffic to snarl up even worse. At times, J. created his own lane on the right (which was just the furthermost lane, but covered with snow so no-one was using it!) and made better progress. We passed everybody else, who continued to crawl along in the left-hand lanes.
Meanwhile the snowfall had tapered off, so the roadways weren't getting more clogged. But traffic continued to CRAWL at a snail's pace.
Although we had left our hotel room at 6:40, thinking it was plenty of time to catch the show at 8:00, I was obviously going to be late. I called the Stage Manager's office to let them know. The contractor came on the line and didn't seem perturbed; said "We'll see you when you get here". I asked him to ask the Principal horn to assemble my instrument and put it on my chair, to minimize further delays when I finally did arrive at the theatre.
This was a first in my more than eight years with Phantom. I certainly hope it's the LAST time I'm late to a show -- even for only the overture and initial measures of Act I's first number. I got to the pit at about 8:16 (we usually start at 8:06).
More than half the audience was absent. It felt so weird to play for so few people. I could hear the sound of the orchestra echoing throughout the theatre, more live without warm bodies to absorb the sound. The applause was also noticeably thinner.
I'm surprised the show wasn't cancelled. But our company already had its money, so why should it care? (Wow, that sounded COLD! But there's an element of truth to this.)
Luckily, the assistant conductor was on the podium so I escaped potentially glaring looks from our regular conductor. The latter probably wouldn't have given me a hard time, though, since the snow/highway situation was indeed so bad. He would have understood.
If this situation ever comes up again on a double-show day, I'll call J. to tell him to stay home until after the evening show, and I'll remain downtown and eat dinner between performances. I never want to repeat this very unpleasant experience again!
The 1,200-mile trip from Denver to Cincinnati was uneventful. We left Denver immediately after the final show on Sunday night, and drove for three hours before stopping at a Super 8 motel in Goodland, Kansas, a few miles over the border, at 1:30 Monday morning. We usually try to get to the next state the first night; it's psychologically gratifying.
There was a dusting of snow on the plains in eastern Colorado and western Kansas, which gradually faded out as we headed further east. It took most of Monday to get across Kansas; the state is about 450 miles long from end to end. We passed through Kansas City during rush-hour -- not too bad actually -- and then across the northern part of Missouri to St. Louis.
That stretch of I-70 has always been dismal; it's a rutted, winding highway with lots of traffic, but it seemed slightly less horrible this time. Perhaps they've done some work on the road since our last trip across, a couple years ago.
We drove through St. Louis at about 10:45 p.m. and continued on into Illinois. J. had made motel reservations at a Motel 6 in Effingham, Illinois where we arrived at 12:30 a.m. Tuesday.
It snowed a little overnight, so we were greeted with a couple inches of the white stuff when we got up around 9:30. J. made tea for our two "bullet" thermoses, and we stopped at Starbuck's for scones and pumpkin cake for our breakfast on the road. We had about a five- hour drive remaining to Cincinnati.
It is interesting to see that Starbuck's has expanded their locations to include some highway exits on interstate highways lately. I have always noticed the glaring lack of decent coffee on our travels throughout the country; it's nearly impossible to get anything other than truck-stop rocket fuel. Perhaps this is changing now with more Starbuck's appearing at highway exits.
We continued to see snow flurries on our drive through Illinois and Indiana. We arrived in Cincinnati around 4:30 Tuesday afternoon, and checked into our hotel, the Hannaford Suites on exit 12 of I-71.
It's a surprisingly nice hotel; much better than the Residence Inn in Denver. Our place is actually a SUITE, with a separate bedroom. We're on the ground floor so the windows in both bedroom and living areas are nearly floor-to-ceiling. The lack of light in our room in Denver had nearly killed us. It was SO depressing!
Our "digs" at the Hannaford Suites are a cut above the usual bland corporate apartment setting, with sage-colored walls rather than white, and passable upholstery on the couch and chairs. J. won't have to cover them up with canvas drop-cloths, as he did in our rooms at the two Candlewood Suites in July/August, Residence Inn during November/December and the little garage apartment we had stayed at in Atlanta in September.
Like Candlewood, Hannaford Suites does not have an oven, so we're forced to use the microwave. Unlike Candlewood, however, this kitchen does not have a dishwasher!
I jumped right back to work bright and early on Wednesday morning. Here's my typical first-day-in-the-new city schedule:
9:30 - 11:30 a.m. Seating & Sound Check
1:00 - 2:00 p.m. Sound Check / Tapes
2:00 - 4:30 p.m. Tech Rehearsal
8:00 p.m. Preview #1 (first show)
But yesterday, Thursday, was the DAY FROM HELL because of the snow here in Cincinnati.
I need to rant and rave for a few moments!
It started snowing just as J. drove the twelve miles to downtown to pick me up after the matinee ended at 3:40. He said that the inbound traffic was starting to thicken up, but not too badly as the snowflakes started whirling down. And he said that there was no outbound traffic at all.
By the time we got to the outbound lanes a few minutes later, though, it was bumper-to-bumper traffic. The snow was falling rather heavily but the roadway itself was not very clogged with the white stuff, since there were so many cars driving over it.
I admire and encourage driver caution, but these people were OVERKILL. Haven't they ever driven in snow? When I attended CCM in Cincinnati thirty years ago, it snowed like this two or three times each winter. So it seems to me that people here should know how to drive in it.
But NO! Everyone freaked out. The highways were totally clogged for hours, for no apparent reason. Even at its worst, the road conditions were not so bad that drivers couldn't have gone about 35 mph, and would have been perfectly safe.
Since the average speed was 5 mph (when we weren't stopped), the highways were a virtual parking-lot. There may have been some folks with nearly-empty gas tanks who hadn't expected to be stuck on the highways for several hours, so there were quite a few cars abandoned at the side of the roads. There were even some abandoned cars right in the MIDDLE of them!
It was as though there had been a nuclear holocaust and that major panic set in -- all bets were off! Almost total panic which was unnecessary.
It took J. and me nearly an hour to drive the twelve miles up the clogged highway to our rooms at Hannaford Suites. J. had prepared a delicious dinner of posole and sauteed veggies before picking me up. As we ate, we watched the Weather Channel and local Cincinnati news stations which predicted as much as six to eight inches of snow by midnight.
We took a nap for an hour and then got up at 6:30. J. suggested that we leave even earlier than we had planned, which was already early -- just in case traffic was still horrible on the way back downtown.
Well, it was WORSE.
This time, it took an hour and a half to drive 12 miles! Incredible.
The snow had accumulated to about three inches by that time, but the road conditions were not really so bad. J., who's from south Georgia and hadn't driven in snow until he joined me on the road seven years ago, did a far better job of driving in it than these people in Cincinnati! He was cautious, but not freaked out, and could easily control the car at speeds up to 35 mph. -- while these folks couldn't seem to drive faster than 5 mph.
There were more abandoned cars along the roadway (did they run out of gas?) and some huge semi-trucks were even parked in the left or right lanes, causing traffic to snarl up even worse. At times, J. created his own lane on the right (which was just the furthermost lane, but covered with snow so no-one was using it!) and made better progress. We passed everybody else, who continued to crawl along in the left-hand lanes.
Meanwhile the snowfall had tapered off, so the roadways weren't getting more clogged. But traffic continued to CRAWL at a snail's pace.
Although we had left our hotel room at 6:40, thinking it was plenty of time to catch the show at 8:00, I was obviously going to be late. I called the Stage Manager's office to let them know. The contractor came on the line and didn't seem perturbed; said "We'll see you when you get here". I asked him to ask the Principal horn to assemble my instrument and put it on my chair, to minimize further delays when I finally did arrive at the theatre.
This was a first in my more than eight years with Phantom. I certainly hope it's the LAST time I'm late to a show -- even for only the overture and initial measures of Act I's first number. I got to the pit at about 8:16 (we usually start at 8:06).
More than half the audience was absent. It felt so weird to play for so few people. I could hear the sound of the orchestra echoing throughout the theatre, more live without warm bodies to absorb the sound. The applause was also noticeably thinner.
I'm surprised the show wasn't cancelled. But our company already had its money, so why should it care? (Wow, that sounded COLD! But there's an element of truth to this.)
Luckily, the assistant conductor was on the podium so I escaped potentially glaring looks from our regular conductor. The latter probably wouldn't have given me a hard time, though, since the snow/highway situation was indeed so bad. He would have understood.
If this situation ever comes up again on a double-show day, I'll call J. to tell him to stay home until after the evening show, and I'll remain downtown and eat dinner between performances. I never want to repeat this very unpleasant experience again!
Friday, December 02, 2005
Traveling and Local Theatre Musicians: An Ongoing Dilemma
It is a beautiful sunny day in Denver; nearly 60 degrees. The weather has generally been warmer than usual (as it is most places now, during this time of global warming!) with many sunny days over the past five weeks. It has gotten below freezing occasionally, but no snow has made it to the east side of the Rockies yet this season.
After tonight's show, I've got two more days and four more shows to go in this city. Our last two shows are on Sunday. Then on to Cincinnati for four weeks (32 shows = eight shows a week).
The show's run here has been fun because for the first time, our little 12-member touring orchestra in "Phantom" has been augmented by local musicians. The violin section has been expanded from two to five; viola and cello have been doubled; the addition of oboe/eng. hn to the woodwind section; and most importantly (for the horn section) two trumpets!
Since we two horns are usually the only "live" brass (the bass trombone and two trumpet parts are synthesized in our pared-down "tour" version -- ugh!!) the addition of the two live trumpets makes our job a LOT easier. The brass chords are now filled-in nicely, and the horns are not as exposed.
It is a joy to play with these people (who are all excellent musicians) and to experience a more expanded orchestration of the "Phantom" score. I wish we could do this in every city.
But the situation in Denver is an unusual one, because of the strong local musicians union and their arrangement with the local theatre. It is amazing that both local and traveling musicians have been equally accomodated during this run. This should be a model for every theatre we play in!
Awhile ago, I told the lead trumpet player that going back to our usual pared-down orchestration in Cincinnati will feel like watching a black and white TV rather than color.
The situation with "traveler" and "local" musicians is a tough one, and not as easily solved as it has been here in Denver.
There can be a conflict of interest. Many local musicians think that traveling ones take away their jobs whenever Phantom comes to their town. When I played shows in Sacramento, I never begrudged the traveling musicians their jobs. It's THEIR gig, after all! (I had enough work otherwise.)
Touring musicians sacrifice everything to go on the road; they don't have a "life", per se. They EARN their money. Locals who have a home don't understand this.
In the largest US cities, the AF of M touring contract protects local players by establishing high "minimums" in the theatres, which displaces many of us touring musicians. We are laid off in these cases.
So in effect, the musicians union that I pay dues to turns around and puts me out of work in some cities! I have been on both sides of the fence, and understand each viewpoint. It is a tough call.
I didn't intend to go into such detail about this when I first started today's entry, but perhaps some people will find it interesting, after all!
After tonight's show, I've got two more days and four more shows to go in this city. Our last two shows are on Sunday. Then on to Cincinnati for four weeks (32 shows = eight shows a week).
The show's run here has been fun because for the first time, our little 12-member touring orchestra in "Phantom" has been augmented by local musicians. The violin section has been expanded from two to five; viola and cello have been doubled; the addition of oboe/eng. hn to the woodwind section; and most importantly (for the horn section) two trumpets!
Since we two horns are usually the only "live" brass (the bass trombone and two trumpet parts are synthesized in our pared-down "tour" version -- ugh!!) the addition of the two live trumpets makes our job a LOT easier. The brass chords are now filled-in nicely, and the horns are not as exposed.
It is a joy to play with these people (who are all excellent musicians) and to experience a more expanded orchestration of the "Phantom" score. I wish we could do this in every city.
But the situation in Denver is an unusual one, because of the strong local musicians union and their arrangement with the local theatre. It is amazing that both local and traveling musicians have been equally accomodated during this run. This should be a model for every theatre we play in!
Awhile ago, I told the lead trumpet player that going back to our usual pared-down orchestration in Cincinnati will feel like watching a black and white TV rather than color.
The situation with "traveler" and "local" musicians is a tough one, and not as easily solved as it has been here in Denver.
There can be a conflict of interest. Many local musicians think that traveling ones take away their jobs whenever Phantom comes to their town. When I played shows in Sacramento, I never begrudged the traveling musicians their jobs. It's THEIR gig, after all! (I had enough work otherwise.)
Touring musicians sacrifice everything to go on the road; they don't have a "life", per se. They EARN their money. Locals who have a home don't understand this.
In the largest US cities, the AF of M touring contract protects local players by establishing high "minimums" in the theatres, which displaces many of us touring musicians. We are laid off in these cases.
So in effect, the musicians union that I pay dues to turns around and puts me out of work in some cities! I have been on both sides of the fence, and understand each viewpoint. It is a tough call.
I didn't intend to go into such detail about this when I first started today's entry, but perhaps some people will find it interesting, after all!
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