Sunday, Bloody (hot) Sunday

For the pre-show weekend, we in the NYC area endured summer-like heat (see: April, the cruelest month). I wandered around a dank, humid apartment, or sometimes the scorching Jersey City streets themselves. And John holed up in his office/studio/bedroom, headphones blocking out the world (there’s really not much going on out there), and got to work.

At some point Saturday, Walter appeared for his voice over re-takes (what a pro). And that afternoon it seems I accomplished nothing more than holding his microphone.Sunday was our first rehearsal throwing both our new bike system and John’s sound into the mix. And it was also the first of six nights in a row working on this play. Fun fun. Actually, I don’t think I’d rather be doing anything else.

“A hot weekend, eh?” mused the MTA, stroking its anthropomorphic chin. “Well, yes, of course the trains should run slower, and let’s really make it seem like those puny commuters are riding through hell itself.” And thus John and I took our slow, sweltering journey to Harlem.

Eventually we arrived, and immediately attempted to make clean recordings of Ryan’s voiceovers using John’s incomparable sound equipment, all while Harlem blared. Needless to say, we ended up standing in the hallway, Ryan speaking toward his bedroom door as I held the microphone, arm tiring (it required all my concentration not to screw this up, being my only job—I had been reduced to a human mic stand, a Mojo if you will). While the “bonk” section’s voiceover out of context (or even in) left something to be desired, we had a solid track for the epic interior monologue—one of my favorite parts.

We joined the patiently—and quietly—waiting Mary for a run-thru of sorts. With Tim’s amp providing the sound--the voiceovers were clear, but the distortion cube did not adequately convey John’s subtle tones—we added a new element to the performance. I annotated my script with cues and learned the mechanics of the sound program, while we listened to the show slowly but surely come together. Things were cobblestone-rough at times, but no one expected the first tech runs to be as smooth as the velodrome. And though Ryan pedaled on the new bike concerned the new trainer wouldn’t provide the sweat-inducing resistance of the bruiser he’d been riding for weeks, the fluid trainer is nowhere near as loud or annoying as its predecessor—and the racing bike looks pretty sweet. We finished up too late for serious notes, but the real work came in the space itself.