6am and I usually pass briefly, once a week or so. Exchanging a pleasant nod, we appreciate the sheer inconvenience of this early morning encounter.
This morning was most definitely different.
The very man who introduced me to working late nights on the entertainment circuit was the man who asked me in for a chat on his radio breakfast show, yesterday morning!
After a somewhat late night of editing some rough recordings in time for the radio interview, I managed to drag myself from the warmth of my duvet and the protection of my pillow mountain to get showered, dressed and made up.
Now, if I hadn't persisted with painting my face and sticking my hair, I would've had plenty of time to get my tracks ready. Make up won hands down. Editing lost and took place on the 20 minute train journey.
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| My early morning rush meant editing on the train and writing notes in last years diary |
Dave is the man who first put a microphone in my hand, 14 years ago. He tells me he remembers seeing a spark, something special that needed nurturing and that's why he encouraged me to continue singing.
I recall this: nothing but intense fear, an increasingly heavy feeling upon my chest and a distinct gush of redness to my cheeks. Petrified? Without a doubt. Horrified? Yes. Intrigued? I suppose I was.
Never will I be one of these vocalists who claim to have been singing since their days in their mother's womb, but that doesn't much bother me. I was lucky enough to discover this gift in my teens and was even luckier to be able to work with many varied, established local acts over 14 years.
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| Dave re-editing my train editing efforts just moments before our on air chat |
My morning with Dave was one of memories, laughs and the occasional serious discussion about the music industry and despite my lack of enthusiasm at 6am this morning, I soon found the core of my passion at the sight of a microphone and an old familiar face.
So, what did I learn today?
No one sees your makeup on radio.
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