Sometimes, being
an actor / musician can be a bit of a poisoned chalice.
I have a love /
hate relationship with being an actor / musician, but utmost respect for the forward-slash. Much of my work has been in the actor / muso field (yes, we have a field - and I often work in it). It’s got to the point where I’ve started to
resent this. It isn’t all I do – there are some people I work with, particularly
in comedy, who have no idea that I do it – but while it can open a lot of doors
(not literally), you eventually find yourself pining for a job where you don’t
have to hold an instrument.
Not just holding the instrument; bloody playing the thing too.
That said, I've been very lucky. Being an actor / musician got me into the West End, as well as touring to most theatres in the UK (and many abroad). I've performed to countless audiences - and been fortunate enough to play three of my heroes: John Lennon, Paul McCartney and Buddy Holly - often in venues where they played themselves. Madness.
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| Nothing like him. |
I was a little
bit spoilt really. I started my first No. 1 Tour a few weeks after leaving
drama school - and from that point on I never really looked back (except for when
I had to turn left or right). It was good for me as a musician, but bad for me as an actor or a songwriter
Generally, the
level of acting required in an actor / muso show is minimal (the dialogue often
only serving as an excuse to link one song to another). Also, for the first
time, I was constantly playing covers, with seldom any time to work on my
own material.
That said, it has
led to some genuinely exciting moments. I got to play Paul McCartney at the
Liverpool Empire, where The Beatles played ten times; picture four mock-moptops
(a Prefab Four) standing in the wings with our wigs on our heads – terrified before the
show, but elated when the Scouse crowd accepted us. I’ve fronted hundreds of
shows as Buddy Holly – a particular highlight being Leicester De Montfort Hall
(one of Buddy’s stop-offs during only UK tour in 1958). I did a stint in
Dreamboats & Petticoats at The Playhouse Theatre, London; called in a day
earlier than expected, on Tony Christie’s last night; playing bass on an
unrehearsed '(Is This The Way To) Amarillo' to an audience that included the
song’s composer, Neil Sedaka – and later doing a show in front of Take That.
I'm not boasting. I'm just reminding myself that it hasn't all been shit.
It’s paid my
mortgage and furthered my career, but in the same breath it’s also stagnated it; sadly, people often assume that being a competent musician means you can’t be more
than a passable actor.
All of those
exciting moments in packed out theatres are not a patch on playing a small
room with my comedy partner Glyn.
That is ours and no-one else’s. It’s then that I’m at my proudest.
That is ours and no-one else’s. It’s then that I’m at my proudest.