The Grateful Diva
From coffee house to concert hall, I've been chasing this musical dream my whole life. Presented with the biggest opportunity of my career, how do I meet the moment?
I officially reached the pinnacle of my career the other night in Winnipeg, presenting my show “Under Paris Skies,” backed by the Winnipeg Symphony Orchestra. It was hands down the most terrifying and exhilarating professional experience of my life. And that’s not just because it was -20 in Winnipeg.
I walked away feeling like I would remember this moment on my deathbed.
I frequently think about death, which I have come to believe is a healthy and reasonable approach in determining how I want to live my life each and every day. If we are all mortal beings trying to make the most of our time on Earth, when it comes to fulfilling your dreams and ambitions, if not now, then when?
Less productive is the contemplation of career suicide, and the creeping and persistent feeling that I’m a mere imposter.
Being neither a native French speaker, nor a classically trained musician, was I a fool to think that I could command a 70-piece orchestra and deliver a two hour program in a hallowed concert hall en Français as an Anglo-born French immersion dropout?
By pure cosmic coincidence, this milestone performance also happened to land on the eve of my 46th birthday. As a rule, birthdays have me reflecting on my life and career goals, but this one especially had me asking: Mon Dieu, how did I get here? But more importantly, how am I going to pull this thing off?
The gig itself has been in the books for over a year, the result of a project that we’ve had in development for some time. Along with my producer and musical director —and recent Grammy Award-winner— Drew Jurecka, conductor Lucas Waldin, and manager Evan Newman, “Under Paris Skies” was conceived as a musical love letter to the City of Light, based on my love of French chanson.
In my mind, I set about training for this gig the way I imagine Olympic athletes approach their sport, with an extreme dedication to preparedness, previously unknown to me. My default setting is fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants folkie, who worships at the altar of live music gods, and regularly practices a kind of looseness and spontaneity that I can only hope is… charming?
This was a different situation. I had to rise to the occasion. In the presence of serious classical musicians who have dedicated their lives to mastering their instrument, I couldn’t show up like a Phoebe-from-Friends singer-songwriter type. I had to actually WORK, as in be really studious, for possibly the first time in my professional life?!
In addition to massive amounts of preparation, this romantic evening of grand French chanson also required bravado, flourish, gusto, a certain je ne c’est quoi!
I had to study like this was a final exam and summon my inner diva.
Thankfully, what I lack in musical training, I make up for in well-earned showbiz chops, and I understood that half the battle would be to look the part of the French chanteuse, and I set about planning my wardrobe-as-stage-armour.
I’m happy to report that I topped my personal record for wardrobe changes in a real Barber meets Beyoncé meets Beethoven moment while the symphony soared beside me. I even pulled a real diva move and requested a dedicated wardrobe assistant (thanks Brenda and the WSO!)
But peel back the many layers of my boudoir robe, and my many trips around the sun and you will still find her: an awkward, timid, and very earnest singer-songwriter, a younger version of me, hiding under all of that tulle.
As I was standing side stage awaiting my entrance, my heart beating outside of my chest, I took a long drag on an imaginary cigarette, channelled the spirits of the great chanteuses that came before me: Piaf, Gréco, Barbara, primped my gown, and as a little birthday gift to my adult self, I let go of all my self-doubt.
Singing with an orchestra is kind of like jumping on an already moving train that speeds up even more once you are on it, and you just have to keep singing and keep pace and try not to fall off. I felt like Indiana Jones… you gotta do some fancy footwork, or in my case “fancy frenchwork”, take a few leaps of faith and get over your own ophidiophobia1. Even though I made a few minor flubs (that probably no one noticed), as I sang the final number, Edith Piaf’s anthem “Non, je ne regrette rien,” I truly believed it.
Piaf’s rise to the stage was unpredictable as well. In anticipation of performing some of her best loved songs, I read her biography. As I took a deep dive into her wild and tragic life, I searched for ways to identify with her.
She was born in a brothel, I was born in the suburbs, she was dirt poor, I was comfortably middle class, she started singing in the streets of Paris, and I started singing in the coffee houses of Port Credit. What we shared was a deep and enduring love of singing our way through life, the good and the difficult, and in so doing, found La vie en rose.
After the bright lights faded and the stage was swept, I packed up my dresses into a big old hockey bag and, and as if walking on a cloud, stepped out the stage door to a blast of Canadian winter. Mon Dieu, I was in Winnipeg the whole time!
ps. I am looking forward to performing “Under Paris Skies” again in Kingston, ON on Saturday April 11th TICKETS and with the Regina Symphony Orchestra on Saturday May 2nd. TICKETS
pps. HUGE thanks to Winnipeg photographer Dan Harper for capturing the evening on camera for me to take to my grave ; )
Fear of snakes
The diva fits are truly fab!
Love this so much! 👑👑👑👑👑