This time last year I was… *fill in the gaps*
just back from an audition trip to Sweden
rehearsing The Cunning Little Vixen and The Rape of Lucretia in London
looking forward to seeing Fidelio at the Royal Opera House
going for brunch, lunch, coffee, dinner, drinks and breakfast with friends - whenever and wherever I liked.
This time last year the WHO declared a pandemic. As you can see from the above, it took the UK a few days to catch up.
This time this year I am… *fill in the gaps*
someone who has not touched, or eaten a meal with, another human being for over two months
a professional administrator, ESL teacher, German teacher, activist, one-time gardener, workshop leader, fundraiser, website designer, lecturer…
excited that today I was allowed to be a tourist for the first time in a city I have been living in for 6 months
not letting myself look forward to anything, because every time I do it gets cancelled. (Although I am looking forward to seeing my family hopefully in a few weeks).
This time last year I was in a relationship, living in the UK, about to quit my part-time job and go full time as a singer. As evinced above, this time this year I am very definitely single, living in a new country, and working even more part-time jobs than I did when I was a student.
A lot has happened.
There is a lot to process.
I don’t know about you, but I am finding this imminent one year anniversary of when life changed - forever? - rather challenging. On top of that, social media has been a vile place to be this week for anyone who has experienced mental illness first or second-hand, or indeed, for anyone who is female.
And yet.
I am still here. I know the same cannot be said for everyone in our industry - to still be here is a hugely privileged position to be in. And yet, I fear the most challenging time is yet to come. Fewer jobs. Less money. More people taking advantage of freelancers who are so desperate to work they will accept whatever is thrown at them. I hope it’s not like that. I hope that we have learned this year that people are worth more than that. But I fear it, and in small corners of our industry, I can see it starting to happen. If anyone reading this runs an organisation or is responsible for employing people - please stop and think just for a second. Ask yourself if you are taking advantage. Ask yourself if the money could be saved somewhere else. Ask yourself if you could live on the pay you are offering. Ask yourself what the pay you are offering actually has to cover - preparation time, coaching, time off sick, time off, rehearsals, travel, performances… It’s not just a concert fee.
This is a meandering post, forgive me. But I want to finish on a positive note.
I still love music. I still turn to music for comfort, for joy, for inspiration almost every day. Music has been there for me in every capacity except… financially. But I can’t begrudge it that. In the confines of Zoom’s square boxes and backing tracks, we haven’t exactly given music a fighting chance to be its ‘best self’ this year. Spring is coming, crocuses are blooming, I was allowed to go to the f***ing zoo today - there is hope. There is a future. And music will be part of it somehow.