UNLESS you’re in the cast of Glee, it’s not often in life you get chance to make a literal song and dance, unless you’re a) in a band, or b) at a karaoke bar.
For the majority of us, it’s the latter. So it was on a windy weekend in April that a rather large group of us gathered in Victoria Park to sing Talking Heads’ Road to Nowhere, led by a tiger-clad dancer and boasting a finale punctuated with confetti canons.
The original plan to film at the bandstand was thwarted by a toddler’s birthday party. We couldn’t kindly ask a three-year-old to move along so we sat stuffing our faces with cured meats while our director wandered around hunting for an epiphany.
Plan B became apparent and we gathered for a vocal run through. Talented musical types produced instruments – drums, strings, clarinet, etc, while others bust out pitch perfect harmonies, leaving the lesser rehearsed among us mumbling the chorus at the back.
Groups of bemused onlookers stopped and stared. Luckily we weren’t pelted with rocks, but rewarded with a smattering of applause. Who says London is heartless? Then it was onto the deceptively difficult task of singing and dancing simultaneously, which for the record, pop stars make look easy. It’s not.
The final take was the product of an hour spent snaking across the grass in formation and trying to punch the air at the appropriate times.
By the time we’d filmed the final take, the sun was going down and we were all in desperate need of a pint. Even now, any mention of Road to Nowhere (understandably) tips some of us over the edge.
But looking back on the video only prompts a rose-tinted ‘aw’.