A story for all those who could've been Leonard Cohen.
Bazza’s request for Leonard Cohen’s droning rendition of ‘If It Be Your Will’ hummed from the pub speakers and was perfect for his monotonic accompaniment as he sang along with closed eyes.
Bella, the publican, shook her head, winced and opted to wipe the tables at the far end of the front bar.
Bazza’s eyes flicked open with Mick’s tap, tap on the bar table and he raised the offered schooner.
“You sound like a chainsaw, Bazza — and you have done a good job of clearing the front bar.”
Bazza took a measured sip and leaned back.
“That’s a bit rude, Mick. I will have you know, that could easily have been me.”
Mick screwed up his face and spluttered his beer.
“What… you as Leonard Cohen? How long have you been in the pub, Bazza?”
Bazza rubbed his chin and leaned in.
“Now…listen up, Mick. Imagine if someone with authority had said to Leonard Cohen, or Bob Dylan for that matter, at a very young age, ‘You do not have the voice for a singing career.’ We would be denied some great songs and they could be ... well, just sitting in a pub having a beer like us.”
Mick shook his head, sighed and took a long sip.
‘Ahhh Bazza …. it looks like I am in for a long afternoon. Okay, take me back to your days as a denied child prodigy.”
Bazza took a measured sip.
Well in Year 6, we had a very strict teacher. Her standards were so high we called her Mrs Oh’Really! behind her back, of course.
She was immaculately groomed, her white stockings complementing blonde hair and red lipstick matching our embarrassment if we stepped out of line.
Anyhow, she co ordinated the school musical, ‘My Fair Lady’, in my final year of primary school.
Mick stifled a yawn as Bazza’s eyes shot skywards.
Mrs Oh’Really had a very systematic approach to musicals. Before she allocated character roles she made all of us learn the words of every song and all according to a deadline.
As you know, Mick, I grew up in a corner store. I would practise the songs whilst working in the shop, until my mother begged me to refrain.
Mick chuckled.
“Without doubt, the singing was bad for business, Bazza.”
Bazza sighed and took a sip.
Well, I mastered all the words for every song and we moved onto casting for the speaking roles for the characters.
I was pretty chuffed to score the role of ‘Freddy Eynsord’ and eagerly took up position with the other main characters at the front of the stage. I fully believed stardom beckoned.
Mick cringed.
“I am starting to feel some pain here, Bazza.”
Bazza rubbed his forehead.
It was all working out well, Mick, until we joined the spoken dialogue with the singing as the rehearsals progressed.
A beaming Mrs Oh’Really monitored the opening dialogue and was enthusiastically nodding her head as the main characters took control of the opening songs. She positively radiated and tapped her high heels as our very own ‘Eliza Doolittle’ mastered the dancing and the singing of ‘I Could Have Danced All Night’.
Bazza rubbed his neck wistfully.
I should've guessed something was amiss when Mrs Oh’Really’s hands dropped to her thighs, her eyes widened and mouth half opened as I tried to match the opening singers with my solo rendition of ‘On The Street Where You Live’.
With a shaking head and pointed finger, she directed me to join the chorus.
Mick chuckled.
“That is a pretty brief singing career, Bazza.”
Bazza raised both eyebrows.
“Ahh, it got worse, Mick. When she came for a closer listen to the chorus, she asked me to mime the songs and stand in the back row.”
Bazza gazed into the distance.
“Ah the irony, Mick… whereas ‘My Fair Lady’ was all about giving ‘Eliza’ a voice, it took mine away. I reckon it denied the world another singer at least equal to Leonard Cohen or Bob Dylan.”
John Longhurst is a former industrial advocate and political adviser. He currently works as an English and history teacher on the South Coast of NSW.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Australia License
Support independent journalism Subscribe to IA.
