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The Big Gig At Big Mouth!

Whose idea was it? The idea that we would like to do a performance, so that we could brush up on songs we had learned previously, and not let them just fade away, and so that we had a target to aim for. Worry that it might have been mine, Val’s an Jo’s. But others agreed.

So here we were. Eight of us. In the Big Mouth Coffee Shop, Dumbarton Road, opposite Kelvinhall Tube Station. 7pm and us due to start at 7.30. Tickets £5 per head, in aid of Alzheimer’s. So we wearing purple and black, because Alzheimer Scotland’s colours are purple and white, and some of us didn’t like white.

We did a warm up as people started to arrive. ‘People’ included the filmer/ photographer. It all started to become horribly real. Or excitingly real. Oh heck, both. A few scales up and down, a few bodily loosening up stretches, and then there was nothing between us and the Real Thing except a final few minutes. Two people had only been coming to the group for a couple of weeks, but were very much already part of the group, and amazingly brave.

We’d spent the last couple of weeks or so practising 13 songs (13! – not an unlucky number, just a large one). Well known ones such as Dancing in the Street, Caravan of Love, Top of the World, Happy, Lean on Me, Four Seasons In One Day, and Big Yellow Taxi, and less well known ones (to me anyway) such as Broken Heels, All of Me, Martha’s Harbour, Call Me, Sing, and ‘Prick Your Finger’ – I’ve forgotten its real name, but it’s a guddun. A lot of the songs, when Sheena first handed out the words, I thought, Lor lummy, never seen this one before, but somewhere in the distant recesses of my brain there was a faint Ah yes, when we actually started singing. We sing a cappella, which means we have no backing instruments, and we ‘do things’ to the songs, always harmonies but also sometimes mashing two songs together – Dancing in the Street we interspersed with Uptown Funk. So it can sometimes be better if you don’t know the song.

The few days before the performance messages had been flying back and forth in proportion to our state of panic (we have a small What’s App group). We had all done a bit of practising in our spare time, using the members’ section of the Dynamics website, known as ‘The Ladies’ Room,’ where the melody and harmonies of each song are available separately; and needed a place to vent when there were bits we just couldn’t get right. And then – questions – what do you do for a sore throat? where would we meet before the performance? and what would we eat? – too little and tummies might growl, too much and we could be facing our own Perfect Pitch moments? and where do you get purple nail polish? If there were any songs you didn’t want to do, that was ok – e.g. If you wished to avoid the high notes in Big Yellow Taxi, which to your mind you could only manage as a screech… Various coping mechanisms were suggested for nerves – there are now some very clean freezers, shiny bathrooms and decluttered cupboards.

At 7.30, Karen did an introduction and everyone – family and friends, about 25 people, paid attention and sat looking expectantly and encouragingly at us. We began with an easy one, Lean on Me, which went fine and helped build confidence. It wasn’t an easy venue to perform in – we had most of the audience to our left, and a few more to our right, and directly in front of us the serving counter full of cake. Really nice cake. Did we look left, right, or in the middle? But once we realised the audience looked like they were enjoying it, we relaxed into it, despite some minor crowd control being needed when Jo’s mum told Jo’s slightly hard-of-hearing Dad, ‘You know this one,’ and he joined in but unfortunately it was the wrong song! Most of us got a bit lost once or twice, but the others carried us through. Luckily we didn’t all get lost at the same place! Karen and Sheena also did a few songs just themselves, which were magic.

And suddenly it was all over. Gone. Yes there had been a few wobbly bits, a little venturing off piste, a smidge of wing-ing it, but overall we were pretty good. Our efforts were rewarded by one person throwing a pair of bloke’s ridiculous, too-small harlequin pants in our direction. A sure sign we can move on to better things, and that he had eaten too much cake and had a sugar rush. More positively, comments overheard from the shop staff to the manager were that we were really good and should be asked back. So we stood tall and proud. And it had been great fun.