Try this: look up your birthday and see which well-known people share the date. Julius Caesar? Clement Attlee? Anna Pavlova? It puts things in perspective somehow. Makes you feel part of the real world. Alas, I won't be celebrating my birthday this year. I'll be working. People say it is important to enjoy your work. They say that it must be great to work at something you love. I should point out that I'm a musician, and that however much I might love my work, when it comes to doing the thing I'm supposed to love at 8pm on the dot, in front of 6,000 or so people, enjoyment may not be unalloyed.
Let me explain: today is my birthday, and tonight I'll be with my colleagues in the Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain, "the group that spawned a thousand ukulele orchestras and inspired millions of players", as it returns to the Royal Albert Hall as part of its "world tour with only hand luggage" which includes the Sydney Opera House, Carnegie Hall and the north pole. The publicity may say that: "for over 27 years the eight-piece orchestra has been 16-handedly turning the world on to the ukulele", but for me the experience of having fun on stage, in front of a paying audience has played havoc with the internal mechanisms which alert me to feelings of joy. In the past I played at a lot of weddings; now, whenever I go to the wedding of a friend or relative, it feels like work. When having fun is your work, how do you relax after work? Look for another kind of music to tweak or subvert with the ukulele?
The Chicago Sun-Times, reviewing a concert of ours in 1989, opined that I have a "baritone voice of almost terminal mediocrity", a quote that quickly became an unique selling point in our publicity material.
It is true that the orchestra delights in making music fun: no musical stone is left unturned, with versions of songs associated with Adele, Lady Gaga, the Clash, Junior Walker, Paganini and Harry the Hipster as well as original material. Some cover versions (including classics of British light music such as the theme from the old Dick Barton radio show) are faithful to the originals, while others are twisted beyond expectation. But never, one hopes, beyond recognition.
Only a few months before the orchestra's first performance at Carnegie Hall in 2010, Terry Riley gave a 40th anniversary performance of his classic work, In C, at the same venue. Deemed by many the first major work of American minimalism, with its trance-inducing repetitive beats, looping sections and "teeming volatility" it is arguably the birth of techno, house, and electronic dance music. It also features an improvisatory approach to the written notation, though whether ukuleles were involved is in doubt.
For our current tour, the Ukulele Orchestra is reviving our 1989 rethinking of minimalism: Relentlessly in C. Riley's In C, though minimalist, is actually quite complicated and rather than remaining in the key of C, roams through other tonal centres in performances which can take up to two hours. Our response to this genre is more of an English minimalist affair, and takes into account what might be customarily thought of as the limitations of the ukulele; Relentlessly in C stays resolutely in one key all the way through and is doggedly minimalist.
Our piece, like Riley's, uses a sequence of repeated bars, and is a response to, or perhaps a sort of affectionate caricature of, minimalism. New combinations of the repeated "cells" emerge as different players arrive at that particular loop. It's never the same twice and achieves a caricature of complexity via startlingly simple elements. It might introduce those who usually think in terms of pop, rock or punk songs with chordal accompaniment to a different way of thinking about music. In keeping with our covert educational intent, Relentlessly in C is unthreatening, yet can be absorbing to play and to listen to. Perhaps it is more in keeping with the tradition of repetitive beats and hypnotic changes than most ukulele repertoire. Fitting, given that our work has recently been remixed by a group of Ibiza DJs, and included on a Ministry of Sound compilation album.
Tonight, as well as our own tribute on American minimalism, we will of course be reminding the Albert Hall audience that the 21 September is Gustav Holst's birthday, and also that of Philthy Animal. Holst is a key figure in British orchestral music, while Animal, the drummer in Motörhead, is a figurehead of a different but equally valuable kind of music. Caring about and celebrating both is typical of our belief that music should be entertaining, lively, fun and inclusive. I will raise a glass to these artists on Friday. Whether before (to lubricate the vocal cords) or after the performance (as the evening's events are ruefully reviewed) is yet to be seen.
Oh, and remind me to look up who has a birthday on 17 October, which is when we play Carnegie Hall.
* The Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain are at the Royal Albert Hall on 21 September, then tour. Details: here.
