The Duke's Travels

Someone once cautioned against the giving of advice, declaring that "the wise don't need it and fools won't heed it".  Up until now, I've pretty much held back on giving any kind of advice to people starting out in my profession because I've always felt that to do so would imply that I think I'm some kind of big name in the entertainment business.  It would also imply that I think I know what I'm talking about. That said, over the fifteen or so years that I'm been performing professionally - not to mention the ten or so years before that when I was a jobbing entertainer, dipping my size twelves into comedy, acting and music, relying on friends and family to get me to gigs and always having to use the in-house PA system (first piece of advice, kids: never use the in-house PA) - I've been approached by many a young Turk, wanting to know the best way to get stage work, should they start out with open-mic spots (second piece of advice: never do ope...

The other day, my Son said to me, "How did we get here, Dad?" I said, "How do you mean, Son?" He gestured at the rolling hills and glacial lakes that make up our view from the veranda.  The deer grazing at the fringes of the ones of the many wooded glades that pepper the vast estate. I took a soothing sip of my Martini, watched as the olive bobbed briefly beneath its surface, its sleek head like that of an otter, diving for salmon.  Then I turned to him and said, "We broke in through the kitchen window, Son, don't you remember?  Now fill the bag and let's get out of here." But seriously, folks...I'm sure I can't be the only person who's looked back on their life and marvelled at how far they've come.  You're never really aware, at the time, that you're experiencing life-changing events; you don't stand outside yourself and look at what you're doing and say "My, what a life-changing event that's happening her...

I've been on and off the road since 1994, first as a comedian, then as an actor and now as a singer.  I've probably had every kind of experience in that time that one would normally associate with my profession.  When I'm performing, there is perhaps no greater buzz imaginable; it is, quite simply, the best job in the world.  But it is a job and I'm under no illusion that it's anything other.   I suppose I have a somewhat pragmatic approach to what David Gilmour once referred to as "this dangerous but irresistible pastime".  I don't hang around schmoozing after gigs, chasing tail and praise.  When the last note has been sung, I'm out of my tux and into my scruffs and I'm loading the gear into the car, ready to hit the road and go home. Because home is where I live.  Home is where the heart is. Counting those long white lines Truly, the greatest post-gig thrill is hearing the dulcet voice of my sat-nav as she tells me: "At the roundabout, t...

When I was a boy, my mum used to recount an old Yorkshire saying: Hear all, see all, say nowt Eat all, drink all, pay nowt And if you ever do owt for nowt, do it for yourself. I've never forgotten the wisdom of those words.  And while I can't profess to sticking to the second line too often and I may have slipped up from time to time with regards to the opening sentence, I have almost certainly followed the closing line to the letter.   The tradition of the open mic spot is something of which I've been aware since I started performing back in the mid-nineties.  It should really be called the "ripping off the artist spot" or the "do something for nothing spot".  Working for fuck all only ever seems to happen in the performing world.  You'd never get an electrician or a plumber agreeing to do a job for free, just for the "experience"; indeed, tradesmen's fees seem totally arbitrary and yet we cough up the readies without question, suckers...

Reinvention is good.  And as someone who has spent a great deal of their life inventing and reinventing himself, I speak with some authority. It's been a strange year.  I don't take kindly to being told what to do, especially when it concerns how I make a living.  I started my career as a performer in the mid-nineties and from about 2007 onwards, work had finally become steady and consistent.  So when the coronavirus hit, I had my wings truly clipped.  And I was not happy. "What to do, what to do?" I thought.   "Oh, lackaday, oh lackaday!" You see, having taken a while to get up and running, there was a fear that inertia would set in and that, when the time came to start gigging again, I would have lost the appetite for it.  And then what would I do?  In my late forties, surely it was too late to start a new career.  So, I tried to keep active, learning new songs, preparing new set lists, in the hope that some sort of normality would soo...