Some people believe that storytelling is a gift – that some are born with it while others are not. But speaking from experience, I can tell you that nothing could be further from the truth. In this first of three posts, I would like to share my story of how I learned storytelling.
In 1994, after graduating from Aberdeen University with a degree in biochemistry, I decided that science was not my thing. What I wanted from life – above everything else – was to be a musician.
My parents were confused. They tried to persuade me to stick to the original plan and keep music as a hobby. But I had made up my mind and in 1994, I went to study jazz piano at Leeds College of Music in Yorkshire.
It wasn’t easy. I had to support myself by working four nights a week in a bar. And whereas my fellow students were able to supplement their incomes by playing music, that was not an option for me because I was nowhere near the standard required to give public performances.
I came very close to giving up, especially after suffering a humiliating incident in a restaurant. I was with some non-musician friends and they persuaded me to get up and sit down at a piano in the corner of the room. The only thing I felt confident playing was high-energy boogie-woogie but after a couple of minutes, the waiter came up behind me, closed the piano lid on my fingers and said in front of everyone, “No more, please. I’ll actually pay you if you stop playing!”
But I didn’t give up. I worked hard and eventually, teamed up with a bass player and a drummer. We got a few gigs around the city and from there, things started to develop quite fast.
Me, as a wedding singer, some time around 1998
I built up a healthy repertoire of jazz, blues and pop standards. And when I finished the degree in 1999, I embarked upon my dream career of becoming a cruise ship musician.
A postcard of the Norstar – the ferry I worked on
My first job wasn’t particularly glamorous. I played piano and sang on board a ferry that went between the UK and Belgium. One day I would wake up in Hull and the next day, Bruges. Then back to Hull. Then Bruges again. The route was sometimes called the booze cruise as Brits would take it specifically to stock up on cheap continental beer and wine.
This is the only photo I have of me playing on the fery. Can you spot my audience? I wonder if he still thinks about me from time to time.
It was a tough gig. Every night I was required to play five sets, each lasting 45 minutes. But this was exactly where I wanted to be and importantly, I had a Caribbean cruise lined up for later in the year.
I wonder if you know Billy Connelly, the Scottish storytelling comedian. I’ve always loved the story about how he got into comedy. Connelly initially worked as a welder and played folk music, starting out performing in Glasgow shipyards. During his sets, he would take breaks to engage the audience with jokes and stories. Eventually, those jokes and stories came to dominate his performances, and he went from being a storytelling musician to a comedian who would sometimes play music.
I found this to be quite inspiring and decided that perhaps I could do the same. So one night on the ferry, after a performance of My Baby Just Cares for Me, I decided to tell a story.
I have absolutely no memory of the story I told, but I do remember the reaction I got. It was an interruption from a drunken passenger who shouted, ‘Ah, shut up and play another song!’
Strangely, I didn’t feel rejected by this. Just a few years before, I had been offered money to stop playing. And now, here was someone who seemed to genuinely appreciate my music. That was the story I told myself, in any case!
From that moment on, I decided that jokes or stories would have no part in my sets – it would be strictly music only.
What happened next? Find out in part II (Click here).
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