House of Uncommons

Yesterday I was at Maid Of Orleans working on a very special audience event with pianist and songwriter Sandy Jewson.

On the way home I made what I thought was the mistake of looking at several photos posted on Twaddle by members of the public. Many of which had been taken from the front row where the poster had had a much better view of proceedings than me at my front of house mix position at the back of the room.

After the recording I had been asked by a member of the public to assist in getting an album autographed by the artist, which I duly did in place of getting my own copy signed.

For almost a moment I started to think I was missing a trick.

But then I reminded myself why I don’t generally take photos of celebrities nor badger them for autographs and so on. It’s because I am a part of the inner sanctum, and I want them to know they are secure in my presence. And I suppose this is partly why I feel compelled to write it all down in a publicly private kind of way.

And then I think back to the soundcheck where it’s just me and him and a couple of other people in that massive magical room and he is rehearsing unheard material and we are discussing practicalities like piano and mic and table positioning and he is clearing his throat and practising major scales at the age of 74. Where I gain the insight that this man who sings out of tune in his endearing squeaky gravel voice actually has perfect pitch, when he questions whether the piano has been tuned to 440 ‘because it sounds like 442’ (turns out he’s right).

And I reflect on all the times I’ve looked down at my fingers touching their faders and I start to feel disembodied and then I float up into a dream cloud in disbelief that this beautiful voice which strikes such a chord within me and that has followed me around for all my life, singing these oh so familiar words is right here and now flowing through my very hands to all those hundreds of thousands of trucks and kitchens and cafes and bedsides and waiting rooms.

And then I am safe in the knowledge that my seat is the best seat in the house.