the nicest people you’ll never meet

This evening, while enjoying some in-studio conversation with the lovely and versatile Leanne Heintz (a wonderful voice talent just now starting to extend her VO reach via the internet), I was bragging again about the Voiceover Bulletinboard, or www.vo-bb.com. 

Leanne had come over to record an audition at my place and had some questions about computers and home recording and microphones that I could answer…and many more I couldn’t.  Naturally, I pointed her to my best information resource:  my friends at vo-bb.com. 

Moreover, we had just finished talking about “blogs”, and I had mentioned how much help I had gotten just by asking my friends on the (…all together now, say it with me…) vo-bb.com.

Since joining a conversation about the exchange of blog page links, I doubled my exposure just today to other voice talents and those who read their pages.  The only reason I even had a blog page to trade links ON was because of several friends I met on the board.  And out of this huge support group, I have only met one of them face-to-face since corresponding on the vo-bb (and yes, Bob survived the experience)!

There are other online gatherings of voice talent, although everyone pretends ignorance of such things when we’re on that internet gift of Deirdre “D.B.” Cooper.  Some are very comforting and helpful in their own way…like the one Julie Williams established over at www.voice-overs.com.  Some groups are more like squabbling one-upmanship contests with just enough helpful information and good natured members to keep you coming back.  But the vo-bb.com?  To quote Robin Williams quoting Quasimodo:  “Sanc-tu-aryyyyyy!”

I told my friend Leanne she should be using the board not only for information, but for companionship while she’s feeling stuck at home doing a masterful job taking care of her young kids (one of them, a great little guy named A.J., is a Downs’ Syndrome baby).  I told Leanne about all the ego and rancor that isn’t allowed by the divine Ms. D on the vo-bb.  I told her it was a lifeline for those days when we listen back to an audition we’ve just cut and think, “Who am I kidding, really?” 

I do have hopes of traveling sometime in the future, and meeting some of these “names” at voiceover workshops.  I’m preparing an 8×10 glossy from some of the sample headshots Kara Edwards recently posted, so I can get her autograph in person someday (and not just because my young son, Ricky, loves Dragonball Z).

Meanwhile, I continue to tell anyone I can about this terrific, helpful, silly, serious, baffling, and bountiful group of people who are mostly names and avatars on my computer screen.  Good friends, nay, great friends I’ll probably only know through the portion of their personas they freely share online.

Oh…and I also told Leanne I was trying to make myself write shorter posts.   Looks like I blew that one.

- over and out -

Is it an INSULT? …or a FAIR WARNING?

The image is from a real billboard for a real college.

And every time I look at it I get angry. 

Perhaps I should be magnanimous…and careful.  After all, the school did hire me for a TV voiceover last year. But look at this darned thing! What, exactly, is the message?

Option A: “Get it out of your system now, kid. Then settle down and get a real job! We can help!”

Option B: “Caution. If you waste your life on the performing arts, you’ll wish you’d chosen a safe, boring career someday! We can help!”

Option C: “Wanna be an actor? You’d better be good, or you’ll end up as a bean-counter somewhere! We can help!”

Or, Option D (unlikely): “Former actors make better accountants! We can help!”

Maybe I shouldn’t be angry. Maybe this is just a call for realistic expectations.

Of course, it doesn’t help that I can tell from the call letters on the microphones (WOV) this is a still from a production of “1940s Radio Hour”, a show I did myself some years ago (I played the sound effects guy).

And, of course, it doesn’t help that when it comes to crunching numbers, I literally don’t “have the chops”…even with a calculator!

Still… The concept seems to insult both professions: squelching the hopes of budding young performers…teasing future accountants with the thrill of enteraining audiences they’ll never know.

Nope. I’m still angry. 

Do you see something different?

- over and out -

oh “me” of little faith…

There’s one theory of human nature that says most people tend to remember the good things that happen to them and blot out the bad.

And then there are Actors.

Except for the stereotypical raving egomaniac of the breed (and if you are one, I’ve little worry about offending you, since you probably only read your own blog), most of us creative types are prone to fixate on all the things that are/have been/or/will be/ going wrong in our performing career, whether it’s on stage, on camera, or behind the microphone.

I say to you, sweet brothers and sisters, it is an unnecessary burden! But, like Alice in Wonderland, I also give myself very good advice but rarely ever follow it.

Case in point.

Recently, I was chosen (without audition, I have to keep reminding myself) for a comic bit in an internal video for IBM. It was part of a fake “biography” segment on a fictional super-sales type, filled with the people who “knew him when”.

My character was a former Camping Club member, still in scout-like uniform, relating his childhood buddy’s qualities for the camera while on the backyard patio trying to light his charcoal grill. The script called for me to be constantly lighting matches, one after another, all the time I was telling my story. The humour in the piece was that I never looked down…the matches would always go out without lighting the charcoal. I would instictively know it didn’t work and immediately strike another…never looking down, always knowing the outcome, and co-incidentally, never burning my fingers.  At the end of the scene, the camera would tilt down from the cold grill to show a huge pile of spent matches on the ground.

The director, one Peter Orton, was an actor’s dream. He insisted on the lines being memorized, so that we could work on the timing of the bit. But he knew exactly what he wanted, and was very patient in guiding me until he got it. The patience came in handy when, in the first few takes, I would involuntarily look down at the match, throw it away and light another, notice it go out, calmly draw out another and repeat the action under my dialogue. I don’t know why I had so much trouble doing the scene as written. Maybe I just imagined my hero, Buster Keaton, doing it and instictively mimicked what he might have done. I don’t know.

Actually, after a few takes, I finally did give several complete reads without looking down at all. My director pronounced he was happy…had gotten what he wanted and some extra takes for safety besides. He gave me the standard line about sending me a copy of the finished DVD, and everyone left…satisfied with a morning’s work well done.

At least that’s what I thought until I got the DVD.

Let me first add to my director’s praises. If you’re a performer, you know how difficult it is to get a copy of finished work for your demo reel. Even producers with the best intentions can get immediately caught up in their next project and let it slip. Sometimes the client will not allow material out of house. There are any number of reasons why the phrase “I’ll get you a copy” is usually afforded the same level of import as “I had a great time, I’ll call you,” after a first date.

But praise be to Mr. Orton, he made good on his word. And he made me wonder if I’d really made good on mine when I said I had understood the comedy moment he was after.

There I was…in full video glory…talking calmly about my camping buddy…looking appropriately ridiculous in my slightly-snug scout-style uniform. I saw myself light the first match and hold it to the charcoal where the flame immediately went out. To my horror, I also saw myself look down vacantly at it, casually toss it over my shoulder with a shrug and continue talking without missing a beat. In all, I looked down at the matches several times…all with that same understated “hmm…imagine that” look, but never breaking from the dialogue.

What had happened? Had I gotten drunk off the sulphur from striking too many matches over the course of the morning? Or…and here the mental gremlins pounced…had I really been unable to take direction, forcing Mr. Orton to settle for what I could manage instead of what he had wanted?

For several days I worried about it. Finally, figuring I owed the man a “thank you” for actually delivering the promised DVD, I sent an email…and also ever-so-casually commented on my onscreen persona’s distinct lack of staring straight ahead during the striking of matches.

He wrote back within minutes, “I loved your performance — looking at the matches –
they made me laugh.  And they did with other
audiences as well.  You were wonderful!”

So, kiddies, the moral of the story – yes, by all means do whatever you can to give the director what he/or/she is asking for. Yes, do everything possible to trust the material and the overall vision of the piece. Absolutely do not just assume you know your own talents better than those who are watching and/or listening.

But…don’t completely discount the notion that ALSO…maybe…MAYBE you are actually good at what you do, and you should trust your instincts more when the situation allows.

[Aha! I just heard a raving egomaniac who sneaked a look at this whole story shouting, "Big Deal, I already knew that!!!" What’re you doing down here? Go read your own blog.]

Epilogue:  By the way, as part of Peter Orton’s email signature is this quote, which seems a great way to wrap this up.  

“Listen with your full attention, look for the good in others, have a sense of humor, and say thank you for a job well done.”   -Smuckers Code of Conduct

– over and out –

NEVER MIND THE “KINDNESS OF STRANGERS”…

(posted Jan. 28, 200

It was probably fortunate I hadn’t put too much time into this blog so far. ["Blog"….it still sounds like a cartoon sound effect for the squishy impact of something unpleasant to me.]

Nonetheless, it was a major inconvenience when what little I’d established went “poof” with the emergency transfer of my website to a more reliable host at the start of the new year.

Of the three lengthy posts I’d managed, I found a copy of the first one. The third had been copied (with permission) on Doc Phillips’ own blog site…I was flattered. So I was able to retrieve it from there. The second one, about the similarities between jazz music and voiceover demos…well, if I had a copy of it anywhere it was probably on one of the several hard drives that have failed on several different computers since last fall. Yeah. It was that kind of year.

It’s all Bob Souer’s fault that I even started a web log. He talked me into it. It was also Bob Souer’s fault that I had anyone at all reading it. He plugged it quite eloquently on his own well-read blogpages, directing traffic my way I would never have attacted so soon on my own.

And again, it is Bob Souer to blame that I am once again at liberty to unleash my mental overflow on an unsuspecting world via the world wide web. Unsure how to help me re-construct the pages by phone, he spent the better part of his Sunday (and if it wasn’t the “better” part, I hope it was at least a “good” part) driving almost three hours each way, puzzling over my particular set-up for two more hours along with my own web-guru, Lou Dalmaso, and finally…giving up on the way it was supposed to work, the way he had his own website set up on the same service…he ended up devising another means to the end which they used to call “jerry-rigged” in those old movies.

And behold…it lives again!

Aside from using the time for face-to-face visiting and dinner with some other area talent, I’m sure he could have had a much more comfortable Sunday afternoon at home.

What did it cost me? Some pleasant time talking with Bob’s talented son, Eric. Plus dinner for Bob (over his protests) before he headed back home.

As with Bob, as with Lou, as with so many other people I’ve come to know as true friends…I cannot for the life of me figure out anything I ever did to command so much attention and devotion. Of course, that’s assuming I had anything to do with it in the first place. Some people just enjoy helping others, asking nothing more than that the favor is passed along when the opportunity arises.

That crazy lady in the Tennessee Williams play blathered on about depending on “the kindness of strangers…”. That’s okay for you, ma’am. But me? I’ve lost count of the times I’ve gotten by on the kindness of friends.  I’ll take that any day.

And as to that…if you know anyone who might have squirreled away that second blog about the jazz angle (which, of course, was the one that generated the most number of positive comments!!!), I’d love to retrieve a copy. It’s not of earth-shattering importance. But it’d be just one more example to prove the point of this piece.

Meanwhile, the previous posts are replaced below.

And Eric, I will indeed finally get to that promised piece about meeting Mel Blanc…which, come to think of it, was only possible through the kindness of yet another set of friends.

But that’s another story.

– over and out –

“Better get the real thing, or at least a good voice actor”…

( - originally posted November 24th, 2007)

Like it or not, we all know there are plenty of media projects out there that can get away with skimping on Talent. But once in awhile we witness something that would have been a disaster with just a “voice talker” behind the mic.
I can’t reveal names, lest I jeopardize any cherished Christmas traditions, but this really happened. I know because I was there in the studio.

A local radio station decided to whisk Santa Claus into town to take phone calls from area kids. Even recording off-air and editing before playback by a darned good editor (and luckily, Santa had one), it’s a situation just waiting for a misstep.
And sure enough, just fifteen minutes into the hour, it happened. Santa was cheerily chatting up a sister and little brother, with plans of innocent avarice dancing in their heads. At one point, Santa asked the boy if there was anything else he’d like. There was the briefest hesitation, and then the little guy continued…words carefully chosen, and voice starting to quaver a little.
“What I’d really like…would be…to be able to…talk to my Papa again.”

It was more a simple statement than a request. But I couldn’t imagine how the old guy was going to get through this one. Before I’d even finished the thought I heard Santa, in a very soft and sympathetic voice: “Ohhhh, I know what it’s like to miss a papa, especially around the holidays. It’s extra difficult, isn’t it.”
“Yeah,” the little voice replied.

“Well,” continued the gent at the microphone, “I’m not sure exactly how much I can fix, but…I’ve got an idea. You put your mom back on the phone, and meanwhile we’ll work on getting that game system you and I talked about to maybe lift your spirits a little, okay?”

“Okay.”

And darned if it didn’t sound like that was just enough for the young fellow. He handed the phone back to his mother and I heard Santa, in that same caring voice, ask if she had any old recordings of the dad she could lift a little something from, and wrap up a small tape or disc for the boy…with a note that it was the best Santa could do. Those of us in the studio half expected the lady to brush it off, but she immediately brightened to the idea, saying she’d never thought of that, and knew of something that might just fit the bill.

Sincere wishes for a season of comfort were exchanged and the call was ended. The editor went to work and condensed what actually went on the air, though I was surprised he left in the early conversation about “papa”. A brief adlib was attached alluding to the “talk to mom/got an idea/lift the spirits” ending and the call went out over the air.

I don’t remember much about the rest of the hour. But later I had to wonder how differently that could have gone (even if it had never made it on the air), if the station had just yanked in some guy with a funny voice who could go “Ho Ho Ho!” on cue and talk about toys.

I post this “long winter’s tale” not so much as a credit to quick thinking, but as an encouragement for all of us who are tasked with using our voice to connect with the person(s) we’re being paid to talk to.

Yeah, it helps if you can nail the sound and read the words without stumbling. But when the person at the microphone can let some part of what’s truly inside come out in what’s being voiced, whatever’s on the page…there’s potential to transform the everday into something a little more.

Note to clients: get a Good voice talent…not just something that will get by.

But who am I to say: maybe he WAS the genuine article!

Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays and a Season of Comfort to us all.

the “yoda” thing…(re-post)

( - originally posted October, 2007)

You know the moment. Impetuous young Luke Skywalker is frustrated with Master Yoda. He knows he’s ready. He doesn’t get why he has to go through all this uneccessary mumbo jumbo. He just wants to get-on-with-it and take on the Empire.

“You must un-learn…what you have learned,” comes the calm reply.

Now I’ve been in some form of audio production and voice work since high school. Before that I was enthralled with the work of Mel Blanc, Stan Freberg, Daws Butler, Don Messick, June Foray, Paul Frees, Bill Scott, and others…and was probably the only kid in the state who knew those names. While my friends worshiped Elvis and the Beatles, I was digging Spike Jones and his City Slickers courtesy of the 78 rpm records rescued from grandma’s discard pile.

I discovered early in my Radio career that as a disc jockey, I made one heckuva production guy. But I kind of liked that part more anyway. Aside from not having the “pipes”, part of what made me such a bad DJ was my insistence on cluttering up the airshift with a lot of voices and little sound effects gags.

In college I discovered what was referred to as “Old Time Radio”, and got confirmation that I had indeed been born 20 years too late. Still, this turned out to be a good thing…because at this stage of life, I was able to enjoy hours and hours of the best of these old broadcasts preserved on tape by collectors such as I would soon become. I learned timing from Jack Benny, a show called “Fibber McGee and Molly”, and yes…”Amos n’ Andy” too. I learned about wit and satire from the likes of Fred Allen (look him up if you don’t know the name). The joys of creative schizophrenia and irreverant wise-cracking came courtesy of Edgar Bergen with Charlie McCarthy and Mortimer Snerd (I later continued Bergen’s legacy by performing a puppet on the radio as a sidekick on my area’s top-rated morning show for several years).

I picked up on voice acting (and over-acting) from anthologies like “Suspense”. I absorbed sound effects techniques while listening to “The Lone Ranger”. And I discovered that a great character can overcome a bad script after listening to countless episodes of “The Shadow”.

I also learned the joy of carefully crafted audio anarchy with the BBC “Goon Show”.

Of course, most of the people I worked with, and our audiences, had no idea what any of those things were when they heard their influence in my Radio work. They thought I was a genius. I did little to dispel that notion.

So perhaps I could be forgiven, with all those “voices” in my head, for wanting to cover so many different styles once I finally got the chance to adapt my skills to commercial radio, learning copywriting along the way from the brilliant Jack Shaw. For a long time, especially at radio stations where a small staff had to give different sounds to so many spots, that worked out pretty well. It even worked out pretty well when a lot of us Radio people started finding ourselves being viewed as over-paid relics when more and more broadcasting outlets got bought up by people who knew nothing about broadcasting…and everything about the bottom line…and we became instant freelancers.

Not being in a major media market, I’ve evidently been slow to realize a lot of the changes required of what we call Voice Talent today. Some of the “Variety” so prized in the radio station environment is viewed almost as clutter by modern voice seekers. A lot of the “fun” things we were famous for are now the new “Old Time Radio”. Not that what we knew then was necessarily wrong, but it doesn’t apply in perpetuity.

Of course I did grasp some of that early on, quickly discovering “Announcers” were “out”, and Disc Jockeys were labled “Pukers” (insert a little chuckle of sweet revenge here)…styles only to be used now for comic effect.

But I’m still in a period of “un-learning”, adapting what I can of my talents to the needs of producers in the present tense: making things shorter, more streamlined, more focused. The whole “branding” thing. I see a lot of frustration in posts on message boards from younger talents than I who still don’t understand why the industry won’t just let them “get on with it”. Why should they surpress all these wonderful things they can do and only show producers a small segment of their talent. I can relate, because I’m still struggling with that myself. For a long time I’ve billed myself as “The Man of 999 1/2 Voices”…the “1/2″ being my straight voice, which I’ve never liked much, but which gets about 90% of the work these days.

Fortunately, the voiceover community allows us “Skywalkers” to encounter the occasional “Yoda”…someone who sees the potential, offers some guidance, and provides much needed perspective and focus. On Dierdre’s (DB Cooper’s) voiceover bulletin board, vo-bb.com, generous professionals such as DB, Connie Terwilliger, Bob Souer and others will often share what they’ve learned with those who are trying to develop their talents. And judging from their posted photos, they look a heckuva lot better than the little green guy from Dagobah (Their sentence construction is better too)!

If you’re a voice talent reading this and you don’t already know about the above-mentioned forum, or the one that’s part of the Yahoo! group for voiceovers…get thee hence. It costs nothing but your time and attention, and you can only benefit. You might also get an idea of what your “Yodas” have been learning from their own mentors lately!

And if you wander back this way in future, you’re likely to see structured ramblings that are still all over the place: some written from the side of the brain that’s sure of what he knows…some from the side doing the un-learning.

NEXT TIME: “All That Jazz…”

- over and out –