Recovering childish dreams.

I remember being seven years old and creeping downstairs at my grandparent’s house, long after I’d been sent up to bed. Music had floated up to my room and I just had to find out what was going on down there. Through the crack in the living room door, on the boxy television I saw a flash of blonde hair, a fabulous dress, a woman rousing a crowd of thousands with an impassioned speech that I had no context of, and I heard the melody of a song that would stick to me for decades. In that moment a perfect symbiotic duo of obsession began:

Iconic blondes, specifically, but not limited to, Madonna.

And musical theatre.

In my friendship group this is widely known Clare-lore or, for fellow fans of Matt Rogers’ & Bowen Yang’s ‘Las Culturistas’ - “the culture that made me say culture is for me”. The movie version of Evita is the intersection of the venn diagram of all things that piqued the interest of little me: strong women, tragic stories, music, glamour, stardom. Seeing that film for the first time is my earliest recollection of knowing what and who I wanted to be in the world. Whether that was specifically Madonna, or just a capital S Star who got to sing those songs I wasn’t quite sure. (I don’t think I actually wanted to be the wife of a dictator, but as I hadn’t quite yet begun my Eva Peron lifelong deep dive, I wouldn’t put it past me.)

I watched the film again and again for .. well for forever, it’s still my favourite film of all time. I read every unauthorised biography on Madonna, bought every album she’d made so far, and began rehearsing my bedroom performances of “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” - the bed my balcony, a line up of teddy bears my Descomisados. Soon I could perform the sung-through musical from front to back, solo and unaccompanied. Oh and I’ll happily fight anyone who says that my girl can’t act, but I digress.

Fast forward 10 years to looking at universities, and I had already decided I wanted to go to drama school to study musical theatre. By now I had expanded my repertoire beyond Evita and amongst other things was now also in love with Jason Robert Brown’s oeuvre and, of course, Wicked. When audition season came around it came as quite a shock that my bedroom performances and a year of ballet lessons in the local village hall were by no means sufficient preparation for the competitiveness of these spaces. I’d trusted I would get through on the depth of my ambition and the strength of my singing voice, but for most of the top schools I was cut before I even had the chance to sing. It was a harsh reality check. The months passed and my hopes were dashed a little more each time I was turned away by another dream school. I thought I’d be choosing which one I wanted to go to most. I had no idea none of them would want me.

I did find the school for me eventually. I was offered a place on a fairly new course at the time, ergo the required standards for getting in were, in hindsight, a little lower. Things hadn’t gone as I thought, but I was back on track and off to drama school. I left the farm where I grew up and headed for the bright lights of South East London.

It was probably as early as the first few weeks that my musical theatre dreams began being quashed. The college had its roots in classical music, and my desire to belt out pop rock musicals was unwelcomed. I remember simply being told to stop “doing all that Britney Spears nonsense” with my voice.I understood the feedback, but also understood that they didn’t like the performer I was, and had no interest in nurturing whatever talent I might have. Then, a few weeks later, I was body shamed in front of my whole year group when a ballet teacher asked me to stand at the front of the class and have my peers identify what was wrong with my appearance. (Spoiler alert: the answer she was looking for was my muffin top, but I also got to hear the class run through all of the other possible things that were so horrible to look at, which was a fun bonus.) I was reprimanded for not having enough patience for people in the class who couldn’t learn a simple harmony line by ear. I was too “pop,” too bad at music theory, too big, and had too much attitude towards my teachers. In every circumstance I was somehow simultaneously too much and never enough.

I stuck it out at the back of the ensemble for two years, week by week feeling a little bit more torn down until I came to the conclusion that maybe I just didn’t belong in musical theatre at all.

I finished my last year of studies elsewhere, focusing instead on only vocals, with a view to being a working session singer. Despite the confidence shake of drama school, I thankfully never doubted my ability to sing. I felt re-aligned with my talent and my now shifted ambitions. I worked my ass off, was an insufferable teacher’s pet, and had next to no interest in making friends there. My impatience was starting to get the best of me after feeling like the last two years had been wasted, and I just wanted to do everything I could to be able to start being offered work. It was a good plan as it turned out, and before I graduated I’d already started booking gigs as a backing singer and performing in wedding bands.

And so the years went by, never taking my eye off the prize. What this prize exactly was even I wasn’t quite sure. Being a popstar? An acclaimed session musician? A backing singer for someone else’s world tour? Whilst I tried to figure it out I said yes to everything, and the gigs and opportunities got bigger and more regular. I started to get into songwriting and thought “oh this is the thing I was supposed to find all along!” I love writing so much. It didn’t matter if I was writing for my own projects or for another artist, it was all exciting and creatively fulfilling, and I felt like I’d finally found the thing I was meant to do.

I became obsessed with becoming a prolific, Grammy award winning songwriter and was laser focussed on doing nothing else but getting closer to that goal. Musical theatre? I don’t even know her. I’m far too cool for that, I’m in LA working with The Weeknd’s team. Theatre was never meant for me.

And yet.

I was harbouring secret dreams that my ego wouldn’t allow me to confess. Yes, I wanted everything I was chasing, but maybe I still wanted the dream I had at 7 years old too.

I stayed away even from going to the theatre for a period of time, like it was one of my ex boyfriends that caused so much hurt I had no choice but to go no contact, but slowly I let it back in and allowed myself to be a fan again. There really is nothing like live theatre. Every time I hear the band start to rouse as I’m sitting in the auditorium, I get a lump in my throat - partly from the sheer beauty and grandeur of it, and maybe a little for the bit of me that wants to be part of it, not part of the audience.

I don’t know why it feels scary to claim this particular thing I want. Maybe it’s because admitting it feels like acknowledging I made a mistake somewhere along the way, or that I let myself be pushed out by my experience at drama school when I should have fought for it more. But honestly, I’m pretty happy with how things have worked out so far. All through my twenties I thought I had to pick one box to focus on, being a pop artist, being a session musician, being a songwriter, but now at thirty something I’m much more interested in pursuing anything and everything that excites me creatively. I still want that Songwriter of the year Grammy, still want to release music, still gratefully and happily sing all day every day as my “day job”, but I also have a whole laundry list of other things I want to try. I love writing here even if no one is reading. I wrote my first screenplay this year and became completely obsessed with the story I was telling, and the art of writing it. I’m currently fixated on an idea to bring what I learned from writing the script and combine it with my songwriting skills .. which sounds an awful lot like I might want to write my own musical.

And, scary and cringey and everything else though it feels to say, I still want to play Eva Peron. I watched my city and then the world fall in love with Rachel Zegler’s run this summer in Evita, and her performance was truly stunning. (I bought tickets the second it was announced and stood in the street watching her balcony performance more times than I’d like to admit.) All summer I thought of nothing but how much I wish I was doing it too. How I believed I could do it.

Now, what does one do with all these plans and dreams at thirty something? Well, thankfully I have a couple of things on my side. Firstly, when I left my twenties I also left behind any fucks I once gave about achieving things by certain ages, especially in the arts, because truly you just get better and better the more experiences you have. Honestly, I don’t know what experiences nineteen year old me was supposed to be drawing from at drama school, but boy oh boy have I collected some trauma now. Secondly, I choose to live in the delusion that I don’t look my age, and therefore any potential ageism I could encounter is irrelevant (no need to correct me on this). Finally, and ultimately most importantly, I LOVE being a student. There is truly nothing more gratifying to me than humbling myself to say “I want to be better at this”, and immersing myself in that process. When I wanted to learn how to write a screenplay I joined a university short course and devoured every second of the experience. Again, the teacher’s pet in me thrived, sorry to the classmates who had to put up with me.

On that exact topic I recently had the pleasure of a one to one vocal session with renowned coach and remarkable vocalist, Natalie Weiss. I work full time as a singer, and have not had a singing lesson in years, in fact I regularly give them to others myself. But Natalie is on a whole other level. When we met she asked me why I had wanted to work together and I confessed that I wanted help diving back into musical theatre and getting out of my comfort zone. I also shared how much I love to be a student. The session was nerve wracking and humbling and simultaneously so freeing and joyous. I learned things technically, but I also remembered just how much I really love this world and felt invigorated to just put it all out there, as you’ve found me doing here.

A snippet of me joyfully working on some musical theatre in my session with Natalie below … because at this point I’m really just balls-to-the-wall-ing putting it all out there.

I’d like to think it’s never too late to return to the childish dreams you once put aside. No matter what, the joy of trying and learning is so much better than the fear of never coming back to something you loved. And hopefully I’ll find myself on the balcony someday, even if I have to write it myself.