After weeks in the rehearsal hall of yelling over recordings of thunder, lightning, wind, factories and tribal drums, not to mention extensive musical underscoring, Matthew is excited about getting into the theatre and pumping up the volume while I’ve damaged my vocal cords before we’ve even gotten there. The earnose&throat doctor suggests a microphone and a prescription that my insurance company refuses to pay for.
At first we are reluctant to go with a mic because it makes me feel less in control of the performance and there are technical hurdles. For one thing there isn’t anyone to sit in the house and mix the sound live so levels will need to be preset and consistent. Also I do an awful lot of rolling around leaving no place to put the mic-pack on my person.
Finally, the kinks are worked out and we try it for the final rehearsals. Mathew gets excited with the possibilities the microphone affords especially in being able to boost the sound cues again and really rock the house. Which brings us to Opening Night…
About 10 minutes into the show, the microphone (probably dripping with my sweat) starts randomly popping and (stage manager) April Smith makes the call to turn it off. I am not consciously aware of the situation but sense that I have to talk louder and so end up shouting over the newly beefed up louder sound cues. The audience is forgiving and the show is a hit. The next day (Sunday matinee) the mic gets fitted with something to keep it dry and the show goes on as planned.
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