Keir Nuttall Thesis

Home , Amy Shark, Curiouser, Glam rock, Helpmann Awards, Keir Nuttall, Little Eve

I’m With Muriel: Applying a Persona- Centred Songwriting Technique to the Creation of a New Australian Musical

Keir Nuttall

BMus

Submitted in fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy

School of Creative Practice Faculty of Creative Industries, Education and Social Justice QUT 2021 Table of Contents

Table of Figures ...... 5

Abstract ...... 6

Statement of Original Authorship ...... 8

Acknowledgements ...... 9

Chapter 1: Introduction...... 11

Situating the Researcher ...... 16

Chapter 2: Literature and Contextual Review ...... 24

Part One: Authenticity and the Music Business ...... 24

The Artist vs Culture and Society ...... 25

Music vs Money ...... 29

Authenticity vs Artifice ...... 34

Persona and Songwriting ...... 36

Conclusion to Part One ...... 41

Part Two: Theoretical Frameworks – Creativity and Persona ...... 42

Flow: Inspiration on Demand ...... 43

The Systems Model of Creativity ...... 44

Persona ...... 46

Mediatised Content as Live Performance ...... 51

Conclusion to Part Two ...... 52

Part Three: The Context of Musical Theatre ...... 53

The History of the Musical ...... 53

Modern Rock/Pop Songwriters and the Musical ...... 56

Musical Theatre in Australia ...... 57 2

Musical Theatre Creation Process ...... 60

Conclusion to Literature and Contextual Review ...... 62

Chapter Three: Methodology and Methods ...... 66

Introduction ...... 66

Practice-led Research ...... 68

Action Research ...... 70

Applied Model of Persona-centred Songwriting ...... 72

Phase One: Subjective Process ...... 72

Step 1: Archive ...... 74

Step 2a: Research ...... 74

Step 2b: Retrieve and generate ...... 74

Step 3: Craft ...... 75

Step 4: Collaboration ...... 76

Phase Two: Intersubjective Process ...... 76

A Note on Character and Persona ...... 79

Flow ...... 80

Reflective Journal and Field Notes ...... 81

Analysis as Narrative Writing ...... 81

Audio ...... 82

Archival Material ...... 82

Awards, Press and Media Output ...... 82

Conclusion ...... 82

Chapter Four: Creative Practice and Analysis ...... 84

Part One: Situating the Creative Work ...... 86

Person ...... 86

Domain ...... 87

The Field ...... 88 3

Part Two: Analysing Three Songs ...... 91

Introduction ...... 91

Song One: “The Bouquet” ...... 94

First Iteration: February 2016 ...... 94

Second Iteration: February 2016 ...... 100

Third Iteration: April 2016 ...... 102

Fourth Iteration: January 2017 ...... 106

Fifth Iteration: November 2017 ...... 106

Song Two: “Progress” ...... 108

First Iteration: March 2016 ...... 108

Second Iteration: May 2016 ...... 122

Third Iteration: April 2016-February 2017 ...... 123

Fourth Iteration: January to November 2017 ...... 125

Song Three: “Never Stick Your Neck Out” ...... 130

First Iteration: February 2016 ...... 131

Second Iteration: March-April 2016 ...... 132

Third Iteration: April 2016-November 2017 ...... 134

Conclusion of Song Analysis ...... 138

Chapter Five: Conclusion and Further Questions ...... 144

References ...... 149

Appendix ...... 164

Lyrics and Process ...... 164

“Imagine my Joy”. (February 2016) ...... 164

“Bill’s Song” Draft Lyric (March 2016) ...... 165

“Bill’s Song Scratch Sheet 2” (March 2016)...... 171

“You Can’t Stop Progress (demo2)” (April 2016)...... 174 4

“Look at this Lot” (January 2017)...... 178

“The Loneliness of a Parking Inspector” Lyrics...... 182 5

Table of Figures

Figure 1. Maggie Mckenna (Muriel) And Madeleine Jones (Rhonda) During A Reading ...... 10

Figure 2. Muriel (Maggie McKenna) and Rhonda (Madeleine Jones) ...... 23

Figure 3. Muriel’s Siblings (Briallen Clarke, Michael Whalley, Connor Sweeney) ...... 23

Figure 4. The Panel Auditioning Different Performance Personae ...... 42

Figure 5. After Csikszentmihalyi’s systems model of creativity ...... 46

Figure 6. After Auslander’s model of popular music performance ...... 50

Figure 7. Resonances Between Auslander’s Model of Performance and Csikszentmihalyi’s Systems Model of

Creativity ...... 51

Figure 8. Keir Nuttall, Simon Phillips, Kate Miller-Heidke ...... 65

Figure 9. Diagram after “Modes of Knowing: Multi-Mode Epistemological Model for Practice as Research in the

Arts” ...... 69

Figure 10 . Diagram After “Simple Action Research Model”...... 71

Figure 11. Phase one: my songwriting process pre-persona (Steps 1-4)...... 73

Figure 12. Phase two: my songwriting process post-persona (Step 5)...... 78

Figure 13. The Creative Team with Maggie McKenna (centre) at the show’s publicity launch...... 90

Figure 14. Persona-centred songwriting process for analysis of creative work...... 91

Figure 15. Muriel (Maggie McKenna) performing “Here Comes the Bride.” ...... 94

Figure 16. The team confers...... 108

Figure 17. Music Director Isaac Hayward Runs Vocal Rehearsals...... 120

Figure 18. Isaac Hayward Conducts the First Band Rehearsal...... 121

Figure 19. The Cast Performs "Progress"...... 130

Figure 20. Dave Eastgate, Ben Bennett, and Cast Perform “Never Stick Your Neck Out”...... 134

Figure 21. Original Cast Recording Album Cover ...... 143 6

Abstract

This thesis aims to contribute a new approach to songwriting centred on the notion of persona. While issues of persona are often treated in relation to performance (sometimes in the context of image or stage act), it is a concept that has not been explored explicitly in a songwriting technique. My applied model of persona-centred songwriting draws upon

Auslander’s (2004b) notion of musical persona, focused on performance, and extends that to the process of songwriting. This investigation was driven by a desire to resolve the tension between authenticity discourses prevalent in popular music, centred around notions of individual self-expression, and the commercial reality of sustaining a career as a songwriter, centred around notions of finance and income. I show that using the concept of persona to frame the songwriting process allows the songwriter to write music that feels expressive while still meeting practical commercial considerations. In the thesis, I treat persona as a process arising from performance, from interactions between performers, songs, and audiences. I argue that songwriting is better understood as a process of performance than solely as an expressive act, at least in commercial contexts. The thesis is therefore situated in the terrain between performance and creativity studies, particularly those exploring

Csikszentmihalyi’s (2014b) theories of creativity. My applied model is informed by theory that asserts social acts are performance-centred, that creativity is a social act, and therefore that songwriting is an act of performance.

The thesis is methodologically qualitative, combining action research, participant observation, and Schön’s (1983) model of reflective practice. I apply, and thereby test, the persona-centred songwriting technique in the professional field by creating new work for an

Australian musical theatre show, Muriel’s Wedding the Musical. This PhD is a practice-based study, 70% of which consists of the creative works for Muriel’s Wedding the Musical, and

the remaining 30% being the exegetical component. The persona-centred songwriting method

demonstrated here will be of benefit to songwriters who might apply it to improve the volume

of their creative output and, where required, cultivate a critical approach and practical

strategies that address binary oppositions between commercial and artistic discourses.

Keywords: persona, performance, songwriting, songwriting techniques, creativity, popular music, authenticity, musical theatre, pop, rock 8

Statement of Original Authorship

The work contained in this thesis has not been previously submitted to meet requirements for an award at this or any other higher education institution. To the best of my knowledge and belief, the thesis contains no material previously published or written by another person except where due reference is made.

Signature: QUT Verified Signature

Date: 15 March 2021 9

Acknowledgements

It was an immense privilege to have this research funded by the Australian Government Research Training Program Scholarship (RTP).

This thesis was proof read by Dr Liz Charpleix, a member of the Institute of Professional Editors, in accordance with iPEd guidelines.

Thank you to all my supervisors who made me feel smarter just for having conversed with them. Thank you to Dr Kiley Gaffney, for her patience, wisdom, knowledge, humour, and the free counselling. It was immensely helpful to have a principal supervisor with a lived experience of the vicissitudes of a career in music. Thanks to Dr Phil Graham for suggesting I undertake this work, and for continuing to be powerful force in shaping it. Thank you to Gavin Carfoot for your integrity, constructive criticism, and warmth.

Thank you to my wife, Kate Miller-Heidke (whose Doctorate is merely honorary) for supporting me throughout this ordeal. Thank you to my mother-in-law Dr Jenny Miller, for her ongoing advice, support, and time in helping me understand not only this thesis, but The Academy. Thank you to Alistair Hay also for his support. Thanks to Lyn and Robyn Nuttall for teaching me the value of an education. And thank you to my son Ernie without whom I wouldn’t have had an incentive to study. 10

Figure 1. Maggie Mckenna (Muriel) And Madeleine Jones (Rhonda) During A Reading

Note. Photo: Sydney Theatre Company. 11

Chapter 1: Introduction

In this chapter, I introduce the concept of a persona-centred songwriting model and show how I initially used the concept of persona to resolve a perceived tension between artistic and professional goals. Underpinning this approach is the work of two key theorists, who are introduced in this chapter: Auslander, whose relevant work is in the realm of performance studies; and Csikszentmihalyi, whose relevant work is primarily in creativity studies. In addition, as this thesis investigates a persona-centred songwriting model by applying it in a musical theatre context, I explore the domain of that genre. I then situate myself as a researcher by giving a brief overview of my career to date, and how that informs a persona- centred songwriting approach. This is followed by some details of the central creative work of this practice-led thesis, Muriel’s Wedding the Musical. Finally, the structure this exegesis will take is outlined.

This thesis is about songwriting. I find the process of creating songs endlessly surprising and intriguing. Perhaps this is why it is subject to much unnecessary magical thinking by its practitioners and their surrounding domain. I assert that songwriting can be demystified without losing the qualities that make it feel magical to its devotees. By using the concept of persona to frame my songwriting process, I have been able to demystify the songwriting process, at least for myself. This thesis theorises and applies an approach where the notion of persona shapes every element of creating a song, from the lyrics and music, to recording and performance. Prior to discovering persona, I approached songwriting as a purely expressive process, with a focus on authenticity. When songwriting is framed by persona, it becomes a social process. Persona arises as a process of social interaction (Auslander, 2004b; Goffman,

1959; Marshall & Barbour, 2015). Social interaction is both expressive and performance- based (Goffman, 1959; Scheff, 2016). By using the concept of persona, a songwriter may be able to transcend a preoccupation with authenticity and become more prolific.

In hindsight, my assumptions about the songwriting process came from being immersed in a

particular “art world,” the sociocultural infrastructure supporting and surrounding a domain

of creative production (Becker, 2008, p. 4). Popular music is a domain surrounded by

numerous discourses of authenticity (Albrecht, 2008; Auslander, 1998; Christner, 1982;

McIntyre, 2008a). The discourses of authenticity that have existed in popular music during my lifetime emerged in the late 1960s and continue in the twenty-first century (Cantwell,

1997; Frith & Horne, 1987; Perone, 2012). In the United States, a folk music revival in the late 1950s and early 1960s brought ideals of individual expression and preoccupations with authenticity into the realm of popular music (Cantwell, 1997; Perone, 2012). In Britain during the 1960s several influential rock musicians attended government-funded British art schools before securing careers in music. The art schools’ curricula informed the attitudes

some of these musicians had toward their creative practice. A discourse of authenticity with

origins in the Romantic art movement of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries was adopted

by influential participants in the emergent rock music scene (Frith & Horne, 1987).

The confluence of the US folk music revival and the influence of British community art

schools were two key factors behind popular music often being critically framed in relation to

its perceived authenticity from 1970s to the present day (Auman, 2015; Frith, 1981). This

critical framing is reflected in the tendency to refer to the popular music domain I work in as

rock/pop. While there are many definitions of both genres, the critical field has loosely used

the terms “rock” and “pop” as a binary to describe two sets of contrasting aesthetics and

motivations (Auslander, 1998; Frith, 1981; Gracyk, 1996; Rojek, 2011). Rock in this context

is an umbrella term used to describe multiple genres associated with perceived authenticity. It

includes the genres “rock, progressive, heavy metal, country, indie, reggae, hip hop, rap,

electronica and so on…” (Rojek, 2011, p. 1). “Pop” in this context refers to genres of music

considered to have less artistic value and to be generally commercially motivated. In musical

13 discourse pop and rock are used as a dyad, each element defined in opposition to its counterpart (Rojek, 2011). The rock/pop binary can be seen as a manifestation of low/high art

(Frith, 1996b). It is the rock/pop divide that I have straddled during my career, and ultimately the rejection of rock/pop as a useful foundation for approaching songwriting motivated me to undertake this investigation.

Prior to using persona as a songwriting technique, I first completely espoused the primacy of authentic individual self-expression, and later experimented with formulaic crafting of music.

Both of these approaches were undergirded by the assumption of the rock/pop binary. My

“art for art’s sake” approach to songwriting involved the belief that the more authentic my songs felt to me, the more they would resonate with audiences, and therefore the more successful my career would be. I saw my everyday identity as the most valuable resource I had to draw on creatively. But focusing on myself meant I had to wait until I was inspired to express something before being able to work. Many songwriters report being unable to create when they are happy, as songwriting is a cathartic release of negative emotion for them

(Cobb, 2016; Long & Barber, 2015). This was my experience. I also rejected any material I wrote that I felt might have been inauthentic. This was complicated further when I started catching myself altering the music to make it seem more “authentic.” If, for example, a chord progression or melody sounded so happy, I would add some dissonance, as dissonance sounded more “real.” After realising I was doing this it led me to a circular self-questioning along the lines of “how can I be being expressing myself honestly if I am deliberately altering what the real me has honestly expressed because it sounds dishonest?”

The limitations of this way of working became more evident as my songwriting career became more successful. The music business is like any other, where professionals must rely on each other when risking time and finances on a project. In order to sustain oneself

financially, a songwriter’s output must be reliably abundant enough to meet contractual

deadlines and to build a body of work that will create passive income (Simpson & Munro,

2012). Preoccupation with authenticity was counterproductive. I knew I wanted a career as a

composer and so experimented with the approach to professional songwriting that has its

roots in Tin Pan Alley and The Brill Building. This approach now exists in Nashville

commercial country and some avenues of commercial pop, where writing hits is an explicit

goal (Cobb, 2016; Inglis, 2003; Lena & Peterson, 2008; Sutherland, 2017; Zollo, 1997).

While there are many songwriters who enjoy this approach, I quickly grew weary of it,

finding it made me self-conscious and resulted in songs that sounded dull and lifeless. I

wanted some middle ground between my goal of creative expression and my ambition of

sustaining a living through song creation. When I chanced upon the idea of persona, I found

an approach to songwriting that seemed to be both expressive and consistent enough to bank

on. Rather than a formula, I think of a persona-centred approach as an algorithm.

When seen through the lens of persona, performance is primarily a social encounter: a public

presentation of hiding and revealing aspects of the total self, taking place within frames of

shared social and cultural expectations (Auslander, 2004b). The creative process can also be

seen this way. Csikszentmihalyi (2004) considers the creative process “as much a social and

cultural as an expressive act” (p. 163). His systems model of creativity presents the creation

of novelty as a similar process of presentation and evaluation between the individual, society,

and culture (Csikszentmihalyi, 2004). My applied model of persona-centred songwriting is

situated in the terrain between the performance theory of Auslander and the creativity theory

of Csikszentmihalyi. Persona is the confluence of performer, setting, and audience

(Auslander, 2004b; Goffman, 1959). By being mindful during songwriting of the musical persona that will inhabit a song, the elements of the songwriter resonant with that persona are drawn forth, like iron filings drawn out of sand using a magnet. Creating a song that is

15 consonant with a performer’s persona and an audience’s expectations is a practical approach to generating music that feels authentic to both the songwriter and the audience. The question of whether it is truly authentic is redundant. The scope of this thesis does not include examining the nature of authenticity beyond how it functions in the context of professional songwriting. By using a persona-centred songwriting approach I was able to transcend preoccupations with authenticity. It gave me distance from my own identity, and imbued songwriting with a renewed sense of play and confidence; my output increased. I hope the persona-centred songwriting method in this thesis might provoke further enquiry for other songwriters who feel that neither the “art for art’s sake” nor a goal-oriented approach alone provide an adequate map for exploring the rich and varied landscapes of music as both an art and a vocation.

While I developed the fundamentals of my songwriting method in the domain of rock/pop, the central work of this thesis is to apply it in the domain of musical theatre. Musical theatre is ideally suited to testing a persona-centred songwriting method. Firstly, persona is of fundamental importance to theatre. Actors’ everyday identities and performance personae play significant roles in casting and performances. Secondly, this thesis follows on from

Csikszentmihalyi’s (2014b) assertion that creativity is as much a social and cultural act as it is an individual one. Music theatre is a highly collaborative form and therefore highly social in its creative practice (Roesner, 2014). Thirdly, musical theatre is a highly structured creative environment with explicit hierarchies in place and a creative process that is codified and procedural—for example, the practice of giving notes after every performance is done in order to shape the work itself, while the practice of previewing work before it opens means you can observe an audience reaction “off the record,” and make adaptations to work around it. Of course, you can do this in live popular music performances, but it is not an understood convention between audience and performer as it is in theatre. Songs have lists of narrative

requirements they must fulfil within the show, presenting an opportunity to test a method

capable of producing authentic music on demand. The creative work in this thesis consists of

my composition and lyric writing for a new Australian theatre work, Muriel’s Wedding the

Musical. It represents 70% of this practice-led thesis, the other 30% being this exegesis.

Situating the Researcher

Throughout my music career I have written songs in numerous “personae.” I discovered that

the further the persona was from my everyday identity, the more freedom I felt in the creative

process. This ran counter to my expectations. I began songwriting for my own singer-

songwriter-based material in 1991, moved into being the chief songwriter in an independent

rock band (More) throughout the ’90s, sometimes as vocalist (Transport), and sometimes as a

guitarist writing for a singer (Complicated Game). In 2000, I met my future spouse, singer-

songwriter Kate Miller-Heidke. We started playing music together, and as she had an existing profile, we made the decision to continue under her name rather than start a new band. I immediately noticed an immense shift in my songwriting process. I started writing for a female voice. Prior to this (and concurrently in the band Transport), I was most comfortable with songs traditionally codified as masculine-themed—ironic songs that commented on politics and society, or with lyrics that were chiefly angry or full of angst. Now I found myself exploring subjects traditionally gendered as female: love, vulnerability, and childhood. Having the female persona to write for gave me licence to step beyond my perceived limitations as a heteronormative male. From the inside, the process felt very natural. I came to realise that I had always been aware that the songs I was writing were profoundly shaped by their assumed listener (i.e. who would be performing them to whom and where). I realised I had focused energy on the content of what I was writing, while not acknowledging the context of how it would be performed. This was in part informed by the

expectations of the “indie” music genre, which demands a particularly rigid set of

authenticity signifiers.

Kate’s career became a full-time job for me from 2005, when she was signed to Sony BMG

Music Australia. The early material Kate and I wrote for the performing persona “Kate

Miller-Heidke” was not as clearly focused as it would become. The songs we wrote for

Kate’s first two EPs, Telegram (2004) and Circular Breathing (2006), and the debut album

Little Eve (2007) were shaped by the gigs we were playing—cabaret settings and folk

festivals—and produced to fit the radio format of government youth broadcaster triple j. At

that point (prior to the advent of streaming services as a significant disseminator of new

music), triple j was seen throughout the music industry as the gatekeeper for credible popular

music in Australia. It remains common practice for producers and labels to ensure their acts

conform with the station’s perception of their ideal listener.

Since transitioning throughout the late ’80s and early ’90s from a Sydney-based community radio station to the national youth broadcaster, triple j developed branding that defined itself in opposition to its commercial counterparts. Kate Miller-Heidke’s first independent EP had received generous airplay from triple j in 2004, which led directly to her signing with a major label. In a later interview, triple j’s Music Director Richard Kingsmill explained his scepticism at the time: “Then she got signed up by Sony…I was a bit cautious…I felt like she might have been signed up and modelled to be something that wasn't going to be us” (Murfett

& Ziffer, 2007, para. 16). Neither the first Kate Miller-Heidke EP on Sony nor the debut album received significant airplay on the station. This led us to the decision to double down on Kate Miller-Heidke’s pop identity in our songwriting for Kate’s second album, Curiouser.

For Curiouser I became involved in production and detailed arrangements that became the template for the whole album. In commercial pop music, arrangement and production are key

elements of the songwriting, sometimes eclipsing it (Tough, 2013). The choice of

instrumentation, audio effects, track balancing (mixing), and harmonic and rhythmic layering

all influence profoundly the way a song is received by an audience. It would become

increasingly clear to me as I worked in more genres that production and arrangement inform

not only the fabric of a song, but also the persona of a song’s performer.

Kate Miller-Heidke’s Curiouser persona was an exaggerated version of her previous performance self. As with the shift that came when I had first written for Kate Miller-

Heidke’s feminine persona, I was pleasantly surprised by the immense sense of liberation

when writing for this new pop persona. The genre was in direct opposition to the set of

conventions I had been following in all of the bands I had written for to date (and the

conventions codified in triple j’s branding and programming). The core of the creative

process felt the same from within, but the persona and genre shaped the final work

profoundly. The experience of writing Curiouser crystallised the idea that genre, persona, and

authenticity were malleable surface constructs of songwriting. Curiouser became a multi-

platinum-selling album with triple-platinum and gold singles. This meant Kate received a

certain degree of trust from the record label, which in turn allowed us to be more

experimental with our next album, a side project recorded under a band name and with Kate

and I adopting pseudonyms.

There were two electronic music songs written at the end of the Curiouser sessions that

didn’t suit Kate’s voice. Kate experimented with singing in a completely different register

with mannered diction. We were surprised by how convincing it sounded, as if a completely

different pair of musicians had created the music. We decided to see if we could trick triple j

into playing the songs by using a band name (Fatty Gets a Stylist) and adopting pseudonyms

(Silas Turner and Fatima Miller). The concept ended up transcending this initial conceit and

we recorded a full-length album over 14 months. Writing for the new persona of Fatima

Miller created a huge shift in the lyrical content and stylistic choices for both of us as

Fatima’s voice had a much smaller range than Kate Miller-Heidke’s. Ultimately, Richard

Kingsmill discovered the ruse through a publicist and the album received no airplay on triple

j or commercial radio (whether or not this was due to our true identities or because of the

music, we don’t know). One track, however, “Are You Ready?” was used in numerous

international advertising campaigns—New York Lottery and Target in the United States,

Love Film in the United Kingdom, Channel 7 and Tim Tams in Australia. This kept us

financially afloat during the dry period of radio that came for Kate Miller-Heidke’s next

album. Synchronisation, which is the licensing of music to accompany visual material on

advertisements, TV, computer games, or in films, represents a significant portion of income

for contemporary songwriters and it has been referred to by managers I have met as “the new

radio.” Again, the new personae and aesthetic had given us an immense sense of freedom.

By the third Kate Miller-Heidke album, Nightflight (2012), I had developed a strong sense of

her “voice” when writing, and it was very natural to shape songs with her performing persona

in mind. As with Curiouser, I arranged, co-produced and co-wrote this album, supporting and strengthening Kate’s musical persona. By this stage we were married and had been writing, recording, and performing full-time together for 10 years. We had been touring extensively throughout Australia, the United States, and the United Kingdom for almost nine months of

every year. This placed a strain on our personal and professional relationship. It became

obvious that if we wanted to preserve the personal part of our relationship, we would have to

cease the creative part.

No longer feeling capable of, or willing to work on Kate’s music, I pursued comedy under a

new musical persona—Franky Walnut, a naïve country man-child. I wrote and recorded

Franky Walnut’s Reflective Drink Coaster (2014) and toured extensively. The album was nominated for an ARIA Award for Best Comedy Release in 2014, which I believe wouldn’t have happened had the project not had a feel of authenticity about it. I attribute this to a songwriting process that drew on the development and honing of a highly developed persona at its core. Shifting to write for the persona of Franky Walnut felt no less authentic from a songwriting perspective than writing for Kate, and the process led to new discoveries lyrically and stylistically as the genre was musical comedy presented as Australiana country, a genre I had never written or worked in before. There was a period of what Csikszentmihalyi

(2014b) would call “domain acquisition,” in which I learned the symbolic language of comedy by performing and researching it through immersing myself in the genre. Australiana as a genre came so naturally that it required practically no research, meaning I had somewhere in my history internalised the symbolic language of this genre, most likely by

exposure to it as a child. Bourdieu (1977) would call my pre-existing knowledge part of my

“habitus.” The fact that it was me performing the character was almost incidental to the

songwriting process, and Franky Walnut could just have easily been played by a singing

actor.

In 2016, Kate and I collaborated once more for the project of Muriel’s Wedding the Musical.

This project drew on numerous elements of the craft I had developed throughout my career, including writing humour, narrative, multiple rewrites, collaborating, arranging, and writing for different personae. Concurrently I had begun postgraduate research and had been theorising my model of persona-centred songwriting. Muriel’s Wedding the Musical presented an opportunity to both refine and test the persona-based songwriting method I had used in my career previously and make it the basis for this practice-led thesis.

Being hired to work on Muriel’s Wedding the Musical was a rare opportunity for an

Australian songwriter. Original Australian musicals with multi-million-dollar production

budgets are almost unheard of (Jones, 2017). I had an overwhelming case of imposter

syndrome. It was not unfounded as I was a complete newcomer to the world of musical

theatre. Previously, I had only written and produced for the genres of rock/pop music and

musical comedy. This alone was an enormous pressure, but the pressure increased due to the legacy of the film of the same story. Muriel’s Wedding was released in 1994 and went on to become a much-beloved Australian classic. It was a significant film for my generation, with catchphrases such as “You’re terrible, Muriel” and “What a coincidence!” entering the

national vernacular. (Bizzacca, 2017). When it was announced there would be a musical

version, there were rumblings from protective fans, some of them my friends. The film had

been nominated for a raft of awards. The Internet Movie Database estimates its cumulative

box office gross take worldwide as US$42 million (Muriel’s Wedding (1994), 2018). It also

contributed to relaunching the career of ABBA, who feature in the film’s soundtrack. More

pressure came from the fact that the musical was to retain some of the ABBA songs from the

film. This meant that our original compositions had to sit beside some of the most well-

known and highly successful songs in the history of popular music. Finally, and perhaps most

intimidating, was the revelation that all the characters in Muriel’s Wedding are based on the

family of the film’s writer and director, PJ Hogan (Hogan, 2012). Hogan would also be

writing the script for the musical adaptation and had veto power over every step in the

process.

I employed my persona-centred songwriting process in all of my songwriting for Muriel’s

Wedding the Musical. This thesis concerns the development period of the show from January

2016 to its debut in November 2017 at the Sydney Theatre Company’s Roslyn Packer

Theatre in Watson’s Bay. The show sold out its three-month debut season and has since had

commercial seasons at Her Majesty’s Theatre, Melbourne, Queensland Performing Arts

Centre, Brisbane, and the Lyric Theatre in Sydney. Muriel’s Wedding the Musical won seven

Sydney Theatre Awards, including Best Original Score of a Mainstage Production (Sydney

Theatre Awards, 2017), and five Helpmann Awards, including Best Original Score

(Helpmann Awards, 2018). In August 2018, PJ Hogan, Kate, and I, alongside the ABBA lyric-writing team, won the David Williamson Award for Excellence in Writing in the

Australian Writers’ Guild 51st AWGIE Awards (AWGIE Awards, 2018).

Following this introductory chapter is the literature and contextual review in chapter two. It consists of three parts. Part one is structured around a series of tensions arising from discourses of authenticity in popular music: the artist vs culture and society, music vs money, and authenticity vs artifice. I use these to contextualise where the songwriter is positioned within the music business, and how a persona-centred songwriting method functions within this space. Part two examines the theoretical frameworks of creativity and persona which inform my songwriting method. Part three examines the field and domain of musical theatre where the persona-centred songwriting method is applied, and the creative procedure followed in the production of a new musical. Chapter three outlines the methodology and methods of this qualitative, practice-led investigation. Chapter four presents and analyses the creative work Muriel’s Wedding the Musical. Firstly, I use Csikszentmihalyi’s systems model of creativity (2014b) to situate the show in relation to myself, its field, and domain. Secondly,

I examine three songs through the lens of my applied method of persona-centred songwriting.

Finally, chapter five presents a conclusion to the thesis.

Figure 2. Muriel (Maggie McKenna) and Rhonda (Madeleine Jones)

Note. Photo: Sydney Theatre Company.

Figure 3. Muriel’s Siblings (Briallen Clarke, Michael Whalley, Connor Sweeney)

Note. Photo: Sydney Theatre Company.

Chapter 2: Literature and Contextual Review

In this chapter I review the relevant literature around the notions of persona and creativity. I

also contextualise this investigation by examining the field and domain relevant to the

development of a professional songwriting method, and the application of the songwriting method in the realm of musical theatre. This literature and contextual review comprises three

parts. Part one examines a series of dichotomous authenticity discourses. I use these

dichotomies to illustrate the tensions between the notion of authenticity and the pragmatic

demands of sustaining a living as a songwriter. I also use dichotomies to situate the persona-

centred songwriting method applied in this thesis within the popular music domain. There is

then an exploration of some of the dynamics at play in the persona-centred songwriting

model in the existing work of some successful songwriters. Part two of this chapter

introduces and explores the theoretical framework informing this thesis: Csikszentmihalyi’s

theories of flow (1990) and the systems model of creativity (2014b); and Auslander’s theories

of performance persona (2004b) and mediatised liveness (2002). In part three of this chapter I

examine the domain of musical theatre, in which the central creative work of this thesis,

Muriel’s Wedding the Musical, resides.

Part One: Authenticity and the Music Business

An anthropological definition of authenticity is as “our true self, our individual existence, not

as we might present it to others, but as it ‘really is’, apart from any roles we play” (Handler,

1986, para. 1). This is resonant with Frith & Horne’s (1987) assertion that the notion of

authenticity in the domain of rock/pop music operates as a “a concern for ‘rawness,’ for a

direct emotional expression to cut through the trappings of showbiz” (p. 88), where a

“performer plays himself, and promises a continuity of self with the space beyond the stage”

(p. 167). Artists, critics, and fans of popular music are preoccupied with the notion of

authenticity (Auslander, 1998; Frith, 1996b; McIntyre, Fulton, & Paton, 2016; Stratton,

1983). Authenticity is “a constructed or conventional quality (rather than being naturally or obviously present in a piece of music)” (Frith in Goodwin, 2012, para. 4) and is constructed by discourses. The perception of authenticity is created by the “extra-musical knowledge” that frames music, contained in mediatised elements like music videos, music journalism, and marketing materials (Auslander, 2002, p. 78).

There are three dominant discursive tropes of authenticity running through popular music songwriting that are framed as simplistic binaries. The first binary is “the artist versus culture

and society,” in which individual creative expression is seen as separate from and superior to the surrounding culture and society. The second binary is “music versus money,” in which music and business are presented as mutually exclusive. Finally, there is the overarching binary of “authenticity versus artifice,” in which authenticity itself is presented as a self- evident alternative to artifice in music. By examining each of these discursive tropes and how they operate within the domain of popular music, I show how a persona-centred songwriting model could function in a professional context where these contradictory forces of creative expression and music business intersect.

The Artist vs Culture and Society

Many of the notions of authenticity surrounding creative expression in rock/pop music

(including the rock/pop binary) are resonant with the original Romantic movement of art in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries (Christner, 1982; Frith & Horne, 1987; McIntyre,

2008b; Stratton, 1983). The Romantic ideal of the artist encompasses “character traits such as intemperance, idleness/obsessive work, madness/genius” (Christner, 1982, p. 6) with a strong emphasis on individualism (p. 31). The Romantic ideal sees the creative practitioner as separate to and distinct from culture and society. Romanticism in its original incarnation sought a spiritual balance in the age of the secular forces of the industrial revolution (Frith &

Horne, 1987). The modern ideal of the musician carries with it the implied sense of spiritual

purity, perhaps as a hangover from the time when most professional art was sacred. The artist

is presented as a loner, a hermit, a visionary, even a Messianic figure. Grana (quoted in

Stratton, 1983) lists a series of characteristics of the literary movement of Romanticism in the

eighteenth and nineteenth centuries:

The ideal of self-expression…

The freedom of self-expression…

The idea of genius…

The rejection of general or rational causality…

“Cosmic self-assertion” …

The social alienation of the literary man…

The hostility of modern society to talent and sensitivity…

World-weariness and “the horror of daily life” (p. 149)

But as Stratton (1983) goes on to point out, today these traits are completely consonant with the “role-perceptions held by the popular music artist” (p. 149). These themes are ubiquitous

in the narratives surrounding the creative industry of rock/pop music in the twenty-first

century and “the valorisation of the individual and the unique is constructed as an underlying

premise to debates on artistic value” (Stratton, 1983, p. 144). In the Romantic ideal, the assumption is that a songwriter is hermetically sealed off from the music industry and music consumer, remaining the “unconstrained, self-expressive, quasi-neurotic artist existing in their garret, waiting for the muse to strike” (McIntyre, 2008b, p. 40). The logical extension of

this is that the purest song would be played to no-one and heard by no-one, merely expressed

aloud by its creator to an empty room. The reality is that the professional songwriter interacts

constantly with their field and is one of many involved in the creation and consumption of

songs.

The professional songwriter in popular music, far from being an isolated individual, is firmly

ensconced in the music industry at large, often working in collaboration with other

songwriters, performers, and producers (Bennett, 2011; McIntyre, 2008b; Studwell, 1996).

Throughout the history of popular music, most popular songs have been composed by specialist songwriters working behind the scenes and performed by specialist performers working in the public eye. From its historical origins in opera and musical hall, to writing for

sheet music in the late 1800s, through the rise of a mass market in the first half of the

twentieth century and throughout the 1950s, the role of a songwriter was distinctly different

to that of a performer (Frith, 1981; Millard, 2005). Rock’n’roll (which would become rock)

throughout the 1950s and into the early 1960s was just one of many subgenres in the pop

(then short for popular) charts, all largely featuring the work of professional songwriters. The

early 1960s saw the rise of the singer/songwriter in popular culture, and by the early 1970s, a

clear binary had formed between those artists who wrote (or were perceived to have written)

their own material, and those who performed the material of others (Frith, 1981). This binary

was a symptom of the emergence of authenticity discourses in popular music. Nonetheless, a

great deal of material entering the public consciousness was then, and continues to be, the

work of the specialist, behind-the-scenes songwriter, often in cases where the performer is

marketed as a singer/songwriter. Persona plays a role in the presentation of all music, both

prior to and following the emergence of a preoccupation with authenticity in the late 1960s. A

traditional role of a record label’s “Artist and Repertoire” person was to find songs or

songwriters that matched particular performers—songs that resonated with their personae, to

create a synergistic effect between song and performer that rang true for audiences.

Authenticity can be seen in this context as a product of social consensus as much as

individual expression.

As mass media evolved in the twentieth century, the potential for specific performers to reach larger audiences grew, and so did the potential for a sizeable income to be derived from writing songs for those performers. Elvis Presley is a seminal example of how songwriters,

songs, and a star’s musical persona interact in the market. Having Presley perform a song was

a lucrative prospect and attracted numerous songwriters who often wrote material specifically

for him to perform. One of the most prolific was Ben Weisman, who wrote 57 of the songs

performed by Elvis (Lichtman, 1993). Similarly, Otis Blackwell, Tepper and Bennett, and W.

Earl Brown all had multiple songs performed by Presley (Sharp, 2007).

While songs might be written with one performer (persona) specifically in mind, they might go on to be recorded by another suitable candidate or reused by another artist at a later date

(Dexter, 1979; Studwell, 1996). Leiber and Stoller wrote the song “Hound Dog” (1952) specifically for the performer Big Mama Thornton, but it went on to be a hit for Elvis1

(Fricke, 2011). This phenomenon illustrates how persona can be figured into the shaping of a

song, enabling its creation while not being exclusive to its final performer. Approaching songwriting via a performance persona is common practice, and also that material can be written for one persona and applied to another. The perception of authenticity around the presentation of a song is more reliant on the consonance between performer, material, and audience than on the actual expression of any one individual’s everyday identity. This is persona functioning to create authenticity.

1 The broader impacts of the racial and gender politics of the time should also be noted in the example of “Hound Dog,” although I am unable to address them in any detail here.

The role persona plays in popular music can be further illuminated by artists whose

performance personae have shifted over time. The Beatles had a shift in persona from teen

idols to respected artists. David Bowie too is an example of shifting persona, more

deliberately manipulated. Madonna has reinvented her performance persona numerous times

and recruited different songwriters to match each incarnation (Capps, 2013). More recently

Lady Gaga has adopted this approach. Today, Rihanna, Britney Spears, Beyoncé, Lady Gaga,

and Miley Cyrus have all had songs written for them (22 Songs, n.d.). These songs are either

written solely by or in collaboration with behind-the-scenes professional songwriters.

Sia Furler writes in her own voice regardless of the intended performer for her songs. She has written hit songs for many of the pop world’s most successful stars, such as Rihanna, David

Guetta, Katy Perry, Eminem, Flo Rida. Often songs composed for but not recorded by others are reclaimed for her distinct, hidden-faced Sia persona: “I go to work and write pop songs.

Then if what comes out doesn’t work as a pop song, I take it for myself” (Quoted in Ingham,

2014). Notably, Sia doesn’t consider (or doesn’t publicly admit to considering) her own work

“pop,” despite the fact it sits squarely within that genre. This might possibly be to place her own songs outside the auspices of pop’s ephemerality and invest them with the perception of authenticity. The interaction between song, performer, and audience is one that can be encapsulated by the notion of persona, regardless of whether the song was a product of one or many writers, or if the performer has complete, partial, or no authorship.

Music vs Money

An authenticity discourse runs through popular music that denotes music and money as opposing forces. The aim of becoming a professional songwriter is at odds with this discourse, as the chances of sustaining a career as a songwriter are increased by being aware

(and comfortable) with the way income is generated, and by maximising its chances of

generation. The notion of persona applied to songwriting can dissolve the binary between money and authenticity by framing creativity as social interaction. Songwriting output might

be increased by removing self-consciousness binaries, therefore increasing the likelihood of

deriving income. Targeting specific performance persona in the songwriting persona may be

useful in finding specific performers for specific songs.

Romanticism in its initial form sought to balance its adherents’ perceptions of the ruthless

capitalist forces of the industrial revolution with humanist principles. It lauded the individual

artist as an intrinsically, rather than financially, motivated figure, content to die in the gutter

for art rather than soil their output for profit (Honour, 1979). This sensibility is echoed in popular music today by the pervasive notion of “selling out.” An example of this is millionaire singer/songwriter Adele vowing, “I don’t want my name anywhere near another brand…and I don’t wanna sell out in any way. I think it’s shameful” (Lynskey, 2011).

Sydney music lawyer Brett Oaten’s website features the slogan “Time to sell out” (Brett

Oaten Solicitors, n.d.). There is a long tradition of popular music artists making ironic reference to their own commercialisation—Macy Gray’s The Sellout (2010), Supergrass’s In it For the Money (1997), The Who’s The Who Sell Out (1967), and Regurgitator’s Unit

(1997). Spin Magazine’s chart featuring “Rappers Who’ve Sold their Soul” (McCormick &

Soderberg, 2011, p. 56) also points to the theme of the Faustian pact ubiquitous in popular

music discourse. While much commercial hip-hop of the past decade celebrates hyperconsumerism and the material trappings of success, this is part of a larger narrative of

“black capitalism as a solution to black poverty,” which is in itself an authenticity signifier

(Hunter, 2011, p. 18).

The idea that music and money are mutually exclusive remains strong (Auman, 2015;

Eastman, 2010; Klein, Meier, & Powers, 2017). The music business itself capitalises upon

this tension in order to sell product (Stratton, 1983). The 2019 Australian Performing Rights

Association (APRA) Music Awards’ Song of the Year went to singer/songwriter Amy Shark for her song “I Said Hi” (2018), the lyrics of which berate the music industry for constantly

rejecting her (it achieved multi-platinum sales). Sara Bareilles’s 2007 “Love Song”, in which

she dismisses the record executives pressuring her to write a hit, earned her two Grammy

nominations and platinum sales. Kasey Chambers’s “Not Pretty Enough” (2001), a critique

of the refusal by radio stations to play her music, went on to multi-platinum sales.

Spiderbait’s “Buy Me A Pony” (1996) mocked the recording industry’s attempts to make the

band sell out and was highly successful, with an ARIA nomination, a place on triple j’s

Hottest 100, and multi-platinum sales. The songs express the idea that authenticity and

business are in opposition to each other, yet are manufactured, distributed, and consumed via

the traditional channels of the music business. The artists acknowledging this compromise

with their “sellout” rhetoric and the artists professing to operate outside of the business of

music are all engaging with an authenticity discourse. Persona is a process able to subsume

both the idea of making money and the idea of being expressive by seeing the entire process

as a sociocultural exchange rather than in terms of its authenticity.

A professional songwriter’s income is derived through multiple streams, but primarily

through songwriting royalties. To make a living from songwriting is to make a living from

musical structure and lyrics) (Frith, 1987). The copyright of a song is divided into two areas: musical works and musical recordings. “Musical work” refers to the actual song, and is legally constructed of 50% lyrics and 50% music, being attributed to the author and composer respectively. The audio recording has its own copyright separate to that of the composer and author, a simple example being: “…there is only one owner of the song ‘Blue Suede Shoes’ but hundreds of recorded versions—each new recording has a different owner” (Simpson &

Munro, 2012, p. 147). Any third party wishing to use this intellectual property must be granted permission by the holder of the copyright on that material and pay an agreed fee or royalty. The royalties generated by copyright fall into three categories: public performance, mechanical, and synchronisation. Public performance refers to the royalty generated any time a piece of music is played in public, whether at concerts or dance parties, on jukeboxes or radio, or in public places such as restaurants, bars, supermarkets, and so on. A mechanical royalty is generated with any reproduction of a musical work, regardless of the format of that reproduction (e.g. CD or digital download). Streaming now accounts for more than half of the overall global recorded music business, with on-demand platforms (the ability for the consumer to select content rather than having it programmed) such as Apple Music, Deezer,

Google Play, and Spotify holding significant market shares (Arditi, 2014; ARIA 2017 Music

Industry Figures, 2018). The industry leader, Spotify, alone has more than 96 million paying subscribers worldwide, with APRA AMCOS estimating one in eight Australians use the service (Bailey, 2018; Donoghue, 2017; McDuling, 2018). Streaming involves micropayments to copyright holders each time a song is streamed by a user. Streaming platforms such as Spotify operate their royalty structures neither like a record store nor a broadcaster but as a hybrid of both, the result being a complex and opaque method of paying songwriters. Spotify defends their royalty structure on the grounds that consumers ostensibly rent music rather than purchase it, which was in fact always the case (Marshall, 2015). A synchronisation royalty is incurred any time a musical work is used in conjunction with visual images, usually film, television, and games. The copyright holders receive licensing fees and often ongoing royalties. Income from songwriting for theatre occupies its own unique space in the constellation of musical revenue streams. Percentages of royalties are paid according to an equation based on the box office gross from individual theatres, and these percentages are arrived at by negotiation with copyright holders (APRA/AMCOS FAQ,

2018). Whether from commercial and community radio, computer games, small and large

venues, on-hold music, or advertising jingles, each source of publishing income has a

different structure for calculating the royalty payment to the copyright holder, making income

sources for a songwriter a complicated and multifaceted affair, sometimes taking years for

income to reach its recipient (Simpson & Munro, 2012). Income makes its way to the

professional songwriter in drips rather than waves, and even with the odd heavy shower from

a hit, their overall share in royalties is diminishing (Hanus, 2018). It follows that the more

efficiently a songwriter can create material, the greater the number of songs they might have

earning income in the domain.

Pop music performers and songwriters in the twenty-first century are highly aware of the reputational and financial value of being credited on a song. In fact, the awareness of the value (and current downturn) in songwriting income is illustrated by Forbes Magazine’s recent article, “Is Now Really the Best Time to Invest in Music Royalties?” (Hu, 2018). In the article, professional songwriter Rob Davis laments, “[t]here’s a lot of cases where someone will write a great song, and someone else will come in and say, ‘I want a piece of that if I’m doing it’” (Inglis, 2002, para. 35). Diane Warren, a professional songwriter with multiple international hits, recounts numerous instances of the pressure to share songwriting royalties with performers (Sutherland, 2017). Andy McClusky, songwriter behind manufactured pop group Atomic Kitten, similarly alludes to the ubiquitous nature of such arrangements, stating that “when we started working with other producers and writers, I started hearing horror stories [about royalty splits]” (Paphides, 2002, para. 31). Where once individuals or writing duos were the norm in professional songwriting, a 2016 study found that the 30 most internationally popular songs of the year were written by an average of 4.53 people, and many more had eight or more writers credited (Sutherland, 2017). The industry expectation of a hit song having numerous writers means a smaller overall income for

professional songwriters because the royalties are shared among more writers. Songwriting

resembles a production line in a way that it never has before. An efficient means of

generating a lot of material can increase the number of songwriting credits, and therefore

potential revenues a songwriter might have.

As evidenced above, it is desirable for the would-be professional songwriter to have a large body of work in their back catalogue and be releasing music continuously. Only a tiny proportion of songs generate any income at all, and many songs are discarded before even being recorded. Adopting a persona-centred songwriting process may help increase output by

targeting specific performers, engendering a sense of play in the work, and providing some

distance from the weight of the songwriter’s everyday identity.

Authenticity vs Artifice

The emergence in the late 1960s of the rock/pop dichotomy foregrounded the notion of

authenticity in popular music discourse. Rock fans and musicians came to value their music for its perceived authenticity, art, and connection to the culture surrounding it, and pop came to be considered by rock fans as shallow, commercial, and juvenile (Frith, 1981). Adopting this posture has meant that rock must continually create and replicate authenticity signifiers

(Auslander, 2002). These encompass the full range of extra-musical discourse, including interviews, artwork, posters, and press photos (Auslander, 2002). Also, there is the perceived credibility that comes from performers being associated with small, boutique record labels

(Frith, 1981). The industry itself uses the signifiers of authenticity to sell the product of rock music. Auslander (2002) asserts that the surrounding content is as important as the music itself:

Authentication requires the recording be positioned within historical discourses

(e.g. the story of the musicians who produced it, its relation to the history of rock etc.).

A recording can lose its certification as those histories are revised. (pp. 95-96)

Authenticity is a shifty shibboleth. In the past, pop music, swing, jazz, and 1950s rock’n’roll were all deemed artless and artificial in comparison to classical music (Adorno & Bernstein,

2001). Pop music considered fake is often re-evaluated by critics in hindsight (ABBA being one notable example), to join the canon of authentic music in general, collapsing the rock/pop dichotomy. Attitudes to the denigration of pop music have changed over time, with some music criticism since the 1980s using the term “rockism” to pejoratively define the po-faced earnestness of rock artists, fans, and critics (Grier, 2013). The critical antithesis of rockism has emerged as “poptimism,” which embraces pop music as being worthy of respect rather than a “guilty pleasure” (Weisbard, 2015). More recently, rockism has come to mean, as

Grier (2013) puts it, “the jurisdiction straight white men exercise over matters of taste in popular music” (p. 33).

Grier’s comment reflects the growing recognition that gender has played a significant role in the elevation of rock music and the denigration of pop music by male critics and journalists

(Mayhew, 1999). This critical approach has framed rock as being equated to men and pop to women, and valorises the male “heroic artist figure” leading to the “patriarchal template which in many ways still structures the discourses concerning authentic musical performance” (Mayhew, 1999, p. 66). The role of gender in the creation of authenticity is a vast terrain that is beyond the scope of this thesis.

Musical authenticity is an ephemeral condition dependent upon context, fashion, and power structures of the critical field. Preoccupation with the notion of authenticity is at best counterproductive, as it is difficult to measure one’s authenticity while engaged in the task of songwriting. Questioning one’s own authenticity is to invite self-consciousness into the

writing process, manifested as premature editing. Persona-centred songwriting flows from the

assumption that convincing performance persona arises when there is resonance between

performer, song, and audience. This refocuses attention during the songwriting process away

from the identity of the songwriter and toward the performance of the song being written,

with the intention of minimising self-consciousness.

If songwriting is seen as a social process, authenticity can be seen as the resonance between

song and performance persona. The perception of authenticity around the presentation of a

song is more reliant on the consonance between performer, material, and audience than on

the actual expression of any one individual’s everyday identity. This is persona functioning to

create authenticity.

Persona and Songwriting

My goal is for the songwriting method outlined in this thesis to be a systemised and

replicable approach to composition that creates music that feels authentic. While I was unable

to find another songwriting model that explicitly uses persona to do this, the mechanics of

persona can be seen at play in many practitioners’ approaches to songwriting. Persona is a

process arising from the presentation (by the hiding or revealing) of different elements of

identity, evaluated by an audience against frames of convention and expectation (Auslander,

2004b; Goffman, 1959). Auslander’s (2004b) model shows song as one element informing

the construction of a musical persona. Conversely, a singer’s persona might inform a song’s

meaning. By anticipating the persona that will present a song, songwriters and performers

play with this interaction (Frith, 1996b). This interplay is undertaken with varying degrees of

immersion of the songwriter/performer’s everyday identity in the presentation.

If music theatre appears to completely obscure the songwriter’s actual identity by (in most

cases) presenting songs via character, the genre of confessional singer/songwriter purports to

completely reveal the “truth” of the artist. Between these extremes there are countless

variations, with different combinations of everyday identity and persona. Cabaret, burlesque,

and drag traditions sit in the middle ground, often playing with the nature of constructed

identity itself. Butler (2002) asserts that gender consists entirely of the sociocultural

presentation and evaluation of gender signifiers, and that behind the performance of gender there is “no pre-existing identity” (p. 180). This dynamic is echoed in the ritualised enactment of authenticity signifiers in rock music (Auslander, 2002). Those immersed in the rock genre may be unaware of the performative nature of their songwriting, just as people enacting gender signifiers are unaware of the performative nature of gender. In both cases, the individual might assume (as a matter of subjective experience) that they are merely expressing their true self.

By playing with persona in songwriting, Bowie is acknowledging the constructed nature of

authenticity and expression. Bowie is also known for constructing personae that play with

aspects of gender as part of the glam rock movement (Frith, 1996b). Glam rock acts,

generally male, played with the signifiers of heteronormative gender by dressing and

performing in ways codified as female, presenting suggestions of bisexuality and

homosexuality hitherto absent in mainstream music (Frith, 1996b). This echoes drag

performance, which Butler (2011) contends is subversive by pointing to the fundamentally constructed nature of gender. Persona is a central component of the theatrical traditions of drag performance and LGBQTIA+2 cabaret, upon which volumes more could be written but

2 Lesbian; gay; bisexual; transgender; intersex; queer or questioning; asexual, agender, or aromantic.

which fall outside the scope of this thesis. They illustrate how layers of identity in the liminal

process of persona can shape the substance of material presented and evaluated by audiences.

By contrast, modern rock/pop music is partially informed by folk, blues, and country

traditions in which it is common for songs to be narratives, and also for songs to be written

from the first-person perspective of a character (Cantwell, 1997; Cobb, 2016).

The songwriter/performers Nick Cave and Tom Waits have clearly constructed personae that

illuminate the interaction between their repertoire and their persona. Both have examples of

work written from the perspective of character, which, as in the French tradition of chanson,

result in “the equation of role and performer” (Frith, 1996b, p. 171). The characters and

narratives in the songs on Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds’ Murder Ballads (1996) and Waits’s

Small Change (1976) shape their personae, just as country musician Johnny Cash does when he sings “I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die” in “Folsom Prison Blues” (1957). It follows that once a persona is established, it will shape the creation of a song, determining which aspects of their everyday self the songwriter reveals or hides. In some cases, this revealing of the everyday identity happens after the composition, with performers using

“song to portray a character while simultaneously drawing attention to the art of the portrayal” (Frith, 1996b, p. 171). Frith (1996b) cites the performers Elvis Costello, Ray

Davies, Mick Jagger, and Morrissey among those keeping ironic distance between the content of their songwriting and their personae. It is notable that the examples above are all male. The role of gender in this interplay of persona will be discussed further below.

Songwriters are often aware of the proximity their everyday selves to the roles they might adopt in writing a song, and how that will affect the way that song is experienced by an audience. Suzanne Vega’s “Luka” (1987) is a first-person account of a boy who is the victim of child abuse. Vega based the character of Luka on her neighbour, although he was not an

abused child (Zollo, 1997). Vega clarifies that it is not merely observation she is engaged in

when writing as a character, she is also involving her everyday self in the composition: “I’m

revealing some facet of my own life. It’s something that I’ve seen or been involved with”

(Zollo, 1997, p. 570). Vega is also hiding some aspects of her everyday self: “I don’t think

you can come on stage and blurt out your innermost feelings…I wouldn’t want to pay $25 for

that” (Zollo, 1997, p. 570). Vega is alluding to the audience’s evaluative role in the process.

“In order for it to ring true, you have to know what you’re talking about” (Zollo, 1997, p.

570). Perception of authenticity arises as resonances between Vega’s identity, her

performance persona, the expectations of genre, and the audience. In the case where a song is

not obviously a character (for example, where the narrator seems to possess many of the

evident characteristics of the performer), the perception of authenticity is convincing enough

for audiences to equate the narrative with memoir. Tori Amos observes this: “You think this

about me, and I’ve made you think that, but you don’t know which ‘me’ I am within my world” (Amos & Powers, 2005, p. 144). Yet the approach to the writing is similar for Amos, in that she finds resonances between her lived experience and the role she is playing when songwriting: “It’s not necessarily about my own experience but someone else’s, and yet I’ve had a similar experience that brings up the same reaction that this someone might have had”

(Amos & Powers, 2005, p. 145).

In musical theatre, where character and narrative are explicitly driving songwriting and the audience is aware of the artifice, the illusion of authenticity might still be achieved by resonances between the everyday identity of the songwriter and the character in the song, as suggested by Sondheim’s reflection on writing for the musical Gypsy: “[the] characters were

types familiar to me, whose diction I could imitate with natural ease and whose backgrounds

I could relate to” (Sondheim, 2010, p. 55).

Aimee Mann and Sarah Blasko, both rock/pop singer/songwriters who have written songs for theatre, express relief at the distance from their own identities afforded them by theatre’s transparent construction of character (Slaght, 2011; Teague, 2015). Mann and Blasko seem to segregate the material they have written for other characters and the material they write for themselves. When Blasko talks about the process of writing songs for the Bell Shakespeare’s

2008 production of Hamlet, she observes:

I think there’s a real strength in taking songwriting away from your own identity and

who you are…There’s a craft in it. Demystifying the whole idea of it being you and

being a bit more identity-less. It’s got to make someone feel something but it doesn’t

have to be your feelings. (Teague, 2015, para. 5)

This connotes that writing for her own identity is still a mysterious process, while writing for character is more craft than expression. This sentiment is echoed by Mann when she describes writing songs for characters in a musical “more fun when you have a job to do…what would this character say?” (Slaght, 2011, para. 23). This also indicates the pressure artists working in the confessional singer/songwriter domain might feel to mine their own identities when creating the emotional substance of their work. While Sondheim felt comfortable because of his resonances with the characters in Gypsy, Blasko and Mann seem to find freedom in the distance between their everyday identities and the characters. This distancing is seen in the work of David Bowie, who became known for his adept adoption of and investment in a series of musical personae, so much so that he is often exemplified as a

“meta-persona” (Auslander, 2006b, p. 116). His initial ambition was to be a writer of musicals for the West End and Broadway (BBC Newsnight, 2016). Bowie found that writing for different personae was freeing for many years, until: “the characters were getting in the

way of myself as a writer, and I endeavoured to kill them off and start writing for me, as just

a singer-songwriter. I’m not sure if I was ever successful in that” (BBC, 2016, 1:45).

Blasko, Mann, and Bowie all seem to have found freedom in the distance between their own identities and characters. All three also clearly discriminate between the material they might write for their “authentic” self and the material they might write for characters. The notion of persona incorporates both the everyday identity, the performer as experienced by the audience, and any constructed character at play.

Conclusion to Part One

The authenticity discourses mentioned above present the songwriter as an individual operating outside the structures of culture and society, intrinsically motivated by creative expression rather than money, and primarily concerned with truth and authenticity. However,

the role of a professional songwriter involves engagement with an extended network of

collaborators, both behind the scenes and on stage. Historically, being a songwriter meant

creating perceived authenticity by means of interactions between performing personae, songs,

and audiences. Making a living as a songwriter in the twenty-first century means earning a

living through numerous income streams. The more songs one is able to produce, the greater

is the likelihood of generating a sustainable income. A persona-centred songwriting approach

has potential to increase a songwriter’s output by enabling them to write for specific

performers or types of performer. It is common in the musical traditions of folk, blues, and country, all of which inform modern rock/pop, for artists to use narrative and character (and

therefore persona) in their songwriting. Numerous songwriters are aware of the dynamic between their everyday identities, their stage images, and their audiences, and play with these

variables in their creative processes. The elements of persona-centred songwriting can be

seen at play in these songwriters’ work, even in cases where they are not articulated.

Figure 4. The Panel Auditioning Different Performance Personae

Note. Photo: Keir Nuttall.

Part Two: Theoretical Frameworks – Creativity and Persona

In the following section I look at the key theoretical frameworks informing my persona-based

songwriting technique. First, Csikszentmihalyi’s (1990) notion of the flow state provides a

demystification of inspiration that is replicable given the right conditions. Second,

Csikszentmihalyi’s (2014b) systems model of creativity provides a model of creativity which

is social and cultural as well as individual. Third, I examine Auslander’s (2004b) model of

performance persona, which presents performance as a primarily social act, drawing on

Goffman’s (1959) model of social encounter. Finally, Auslander’s (2002) concept of mediatised liveness is examined. These four theories, situated between creativity theory and performance theory, inform my persona-centred songwriting process, which extends

Auslander’s notion of performance persona to apply to songwriting as a performance-focused act.

Flow: Inspiration on Demand

In interviews many of the most successful songwriting practitioners of the past half-century

speak about inspiration as an unpredictable force, existing outside them and occasionally

whimsically visiting them (Zollo, 1997). Yet a professional songwriter has managers, agents,

and other musicians relying on their output (and therefore inspiration) being consistent

enough to be factored into schedules and contracts. Inspiration might be defined as a mental

state that feels outside of time where lateral thought seems effortless.

Csikszentmihalyi (2014b) offers a practical definition of inspiration with the concept of flow:

“a subjective state that people report when they are completely involved in something to the

point of forgetting time, fatigue, and everything else but the activity itself” (p. 230). Flow can be experienced in prosaic settings, such as a lengthy drive on the highway or a game of ping- pong, as much as in the lofty pursuit of art. As a vehicle for inspiration, flow removes

creativity from the supernatural paradigm of muses and sacred visions and acknowledges it as a universal psychological phenomenon. Flow is action merged with awareness, intimately connected to a sense of play (Csikszentmihalyi, 2014a). It occurs when a given activity is challenging but not stressfully so, existing in “the space between anxiety and boredom”

(Csikszentmihalyi, p. 298). Three primary conditions create circumstances for inducing a flow state: “clear goals, optimal challenges, and clear immediate feedback”

(Csikszentmihalyi, 2014b, p. 232). Being a replicable state, flow can give the songwriter agency when it comes to the paradox of needing to play while working. Flow increases a group or individual’s productivity (Forbes & Domm, 2004; Fourie & Fourie, 2013; Kauanui et al., 2014), and it makes sense that when a person feels as if they are playing rather than working, they will be more inclined to expend energy and continue undertaking their task.

Part of the nature of the flow state as it relates to productivity is disruption, when an individual step out of the flow of an activity to reflect on how their progress relates to their

larger goal. Excessive focus on the goal or disruption by self-editing becomes

counterproductive, ceasing flow altogether (Csikszentmihalyi, 2014a).

Maslow (1962/2012) used the term “peak experience” to describe the state of an individual in

which all elements of their life were working in harmony. It was the aim of his work in

humanistic psychology to find replicable strategies of achieving this state in everyday life

(Maslow, 1962/2012, pp. 112-120). Following Maslow, Csikszentmihalyi (1997) later

popularised the term “flow.” Flow has been anecdotally reported amongst musicians for

centuries. Jazz musicians would refer to “being in the zone,” classical musicians to visitations

of the muse (Hytönen-Ng, 2013). Csikszentmihalyi (1997) describes flow as a mental state of

relaxed hyper-awareness, outside of time, where difficult tasks seem effortless and the

divided mind becomes whole. I am familiar with this state, which Zen Buddhism might refer to as nondualistic.

I have found that using the concept of persona increases the chances of flow occurring during songwriting. Focusing on the performance persona relevant to a song provides distance from my personal identity, freeing me up for experimentation and imbuing the songwriting process with a sense of play.

The Systems Model of Creativity

In part one I outlined some dichotomous authenticity discourses and contrasted them with the realities of the music business. In each case I suggested how applying the notion of persona

to songwriting has resolved for me some of the tensions between musical expression and the

music business. Csikszentmihalyi’s (2014b) systems model of creativity (Figure 5) asserts

that the creative act is not only expressive but also sociocultural. Auslander (2006b) uses the

notion of musical persona to assert that performance is primarily a sociocultural act. My

applied model of persona-centred songwriting sits between these two theories, scaffolded by

both.

The systems model of creativity asserts that the individual is only one of three equally

important elements in the creative act: person, domain, and field (Csikszentmihalyi, 2004).

As in Bourdieu’s (1977) notion of “habitus,” an individual brings their socio-political background, personal emotional history, and intrinsic motivation and knowledge to bear on the work they undertake, and this intersects with the culture by which they are framed

(Csikszentmihalyi, 1997). The domain is all of the symbolic knowledge surrounding a particular area of expertise. For example, the domain of popular music includes history of the form, knowledge of the canon, the most revered (and denigrated) practitioners, differing critical opinions, production conventions, and so on. In the systems model, a person must have a working knowledge of the relevant domain in order to produce work with sufficient novelty to enter the domain. The creative process consists of a person presenting a work for evaluation to the field. Csikszentmihalyi (2014b) draws on Bourdieu’s (1977) term “field” to refer to the gatekeepers who evaluate new work, rejecting it or allowing to enter the domain,

thus adding to the symbolic knowledge. A work is only considered creatively successful

when the field permits it to enter the domain (Csikszentmihalyi, 2014b). The field of popular

music includes critics, journalists, bloggers, radio programmers, and audiences

(Csikszentmihalyi, 1997). In an online environment, participants of social media platforms

could be seen to have a role in the field, in that by their sharing and reposting, original works

can become part of the domain.

Figure 5. After Csikszentmihalyi’s systems model of creativity

Note. From The Systems Model of Creativity: The Collected Works of Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, by M. Csikszentmihalyi, (2014b), (p. 52).

The field governs what degree of novelty is allowed to enter the domain. A work must stand

out yet also fit in. Some fields, such as “noise music,” allow a great deal of novelty within the

parameters of their domain. In others, such as country or classical music, if a creative work

has too much novelty it is rejected. The interaction of person, field, and domain forms the

basis of the creative process. The systems model represents an assertion that creativity is a

social process of presentation and evaluation (Csikszentmihalyi, 2014b). This is consonant with Goffman’s (1959) schema of social interaction, drawn upon by Auslander (2006b) when theorising musical persona and asserting that performance is a social process. When

Auslander’s notion of musical persona is applied to songwriting, it bridges creativity theory

and performance theory.

Persona

The concept of persona is intrinsically associated with the idea of performance. It follows that

when the concept of persona is introduced into the songwriting process, songwriting becomes

an act of performance. The word “persona” has its origins in the masks actors wore in ancient

Greek and late Roman theatre. The idea of the mask still informs our idea of persona and

tends to be used in popular culture as a noun. But persona can also be seen as a process rather

than a fixed object like a mask. Marshall and Barbour (2015) assert that the etymology of the

word refers more specifically the sound of the actor’s voice emanating from behind the mask,

rather than the object itself. This is a useful analogy for songwriting, encompassing not only

the layers of identity at play in performance (the actor, the mask), but also the thread of the

song that connects them (the voice). The identity of a songwriter operates fluidly throughout

the life of a song, rather than just being present during its creation. Persona is intersubjective,

in that it consists of a shared consensus of meaning and perception between individuals,

rather than within the individual (Crossley, 1996). Frith (1996a) echoes this notion in his

assertion that identity is a process, and that “music making and music listening is best

understood as an experience of this self-in-process. Music, like identity, is both performance

and story, describes the social in the individual and the individual in the social” (p. 109).

Persona has the effect of disrupting the linear narrative we tend to apply to the idea of a song,

a narrative that assumes the writing of a song and the performing of that song are two discrete

events. When persona is introduced into the songwriting process, it is possible to see the

writing of a song as an early performance to a future audience. Conversely, the material of a song itself is rewritten with every different performance to every different audience. Moving a piece to completion requires the gradual narrowing of creative choices, from the infinite to the definite, and the specifics of the song’s performer and audience are important parameters in this process of narrowing. This notion of a collaboration between audience and practitioner follows Auslander’s (2004b) notion of musical performance, in which he asserts that a musical persona is a collaboration between audience, performer, and song.

The social mechanics of musical persona outlined by Auslander (2004b) inform the

foundation of my applied model of songwriting. Auslander’s concept draws on Goffman’s

(1959) schema of microsocial interactions. Goffman’s schema uses the language of dramaturgy to explore how a person moves through the social world. A social encounter is defined by Goffman (1959) as being when “a given set of individuals are in one another’s continuous presence” (1959, p. 8) and enact a performance. He defines performance as “all the activity of a given participant on a given occasion which serves to influence in any way any of the other participants” (Goffman, 1959, p. 28). At the centre of this performance

emerges persona, a social and cultural process filtering an individual’s identity, colouring

their behaviour by revealing some parts of their identity and blocking others. Observers of a

performance evaluate the persona they are presented with and judge it to be credible or

otherwise (Goffman, 1959, p. 72). All individuals present in a social encounter are observing

and being observed, moving between being actor and audience, their personae engaging in a

dance of presentation and evaluation. In this way, persona can be seen as a collaborative

process between the observers and the observed.

This evaluation of a social actor’s credibility is informed by the social context in which it

happens. In the way an actor on the stage is placed in front of a backdrop and behaves

appropriately in relation to the scene around them, so too a person in an everyday social

encounter behaves according to the social and cultural expectations implicit in the setting in

which they find themselves (Goffman, 1959). Members of a particular culture tacitly

understand the conventions dictated by that culture’s different social settings (e.g. somebody

in an ice cream parlour behaves differently to somebody in a funeral parlour). Bourdieu refers

to this shared understanding of a set of social and cultural givens as doxa (1977). In

evaluating its credibility, observers look for correlation between a persona and its

surrounding setting (Goffman, 1959). The setting fundamentally dictates the criteria by which

an individual’s persona is evaluated, each setting bringing with it a set of social and cultural

expectations and conventions. In later work Goffman uses the concept of a “frame,” which

49 functions in a similar way to “setting” but is able to clarify more complicated layers of social conventions informing an individual’s reality (Goffman, 1986). Multiple frames exist simultaneously, each bringing its own set of conventions and expectations to a social encounter. Persona is a social process of hiding and revealing that arises when an individual is in the direct presence of others and being evaluated for credibility against a setting or frame of cultural and social expectations (Auslander, 2006b; Goffman, 1959).

Auslander (2006b) brings Goffman’s concepts, which were adapted from the language of dramaturgy, into the realm of musical performance. By putting persona at the centre of musical analysis, Auslander collapses the dichotomy of musical work–performance at the heart of traditional music criticism. He argues “what musicians perform first and foremost is not music, but their own identities as musicians, their musical personae” (Auslander, 2006b, p. 102). Auslander differentiates himself from Godlovitch (representing traditional musicology), in that “[w]hereas he [Godlovitch] posits musical performance as a form of self-expression, I am suggesting it is a form of self-presentation” (2006b, p. 103). The mechanics of social interaction, as per Goffman’s (1959) concepts, all apply to the musical performer and their audience in Auslander’s (2004b) schema, and therefore a persona is created as much by the expectations of the audience as by the performer. Just as a person in a social setting is in an active state of evaluating the interactions with others in relationship to the perceived framework (Goffman, 1986), an audience and performer engage in an active state of reciprocal evaluation and feedback (Auslander, 2006b). The persona of a performer is arrived at in collaboration with their audience. Extended into songwriting, by applying the notion of persona to the creative process, this audience–practitioner collaboration can be seen to effectively include the audience in the creation of the song.

Figure 6. After Auslander’s model of popular music performance

Note. From Performance analysis and popular music: A manifesto, by P. Auslander, (2004b), Contemporary Theatre Review, 14(1), (p. 11).

The performer–audience interaction exists within a series of frames that dictate the

expectations governing the process of a musical persona. “The performance of popular

music” frame sits within the frame of “musical genre convention,” and both are within the

frame of “sociocultural conventions” (Auslander, 2004b). The frame that most fundamentally

shapes the musical persona is that of genre conventions, as this provides the expectations and

acceptable choices surrounding the process of co-creation (Auslander, 2004b). In the context of songwriting this means that for a song to feel authentic to an audience, there needs to be a sense of harmony between song, performer, and surrounding frame or setting. A song resonates authentically within the vessel of its performer. That vessel is musical persona, a liminal state informed by the performer’s everyday identity, their stage image, the influence of the music industry, their mediatised content, the audience’s projections and the song being performed (Auslander, 2004a, 2004b). Auslander is referring to performance, but I extend it to include songwriting.

Figure 7. Resonances Between Auslander’s Model of Performance and Csikszentmihalyi’s Systems Model of Creativity

Note. Diagram: Keir Nuttall. Sourced from “Performance analysis and popular music: A manifesto”, by P. Auslander, (2004b), Contemporary Theatre Review, 14(1), 1-13, and The Systems Model of Creativity: The Collected Works of Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi by M. Csikszentmihalyi (2014b), Springer Netherlands.

Mediatised Content as Live Performance

In Auslander’s (2004b) model of musical persona, the song is seen as a fixed variable,

contributing to the performer’s musical persona. Yet, using the concept of “mediatised

liveness,” Auslander (2002, 2006b) offers a means of liberating the analysis of a song’s

creation from linear time. In an era in which so much of an audience’s experience of music

happens outside the realm of the concert hall, a form of musical analysis that only addressed

live events would leave a great deal unexamined. Auslander (2006a) expands the scope of

analysis by arguing for a redefining of the term “live.” He claims the traditional binary

distinction between live and mediatised performances no longer applies, citing Frith’s

(1996b) assertion that when fans hear a recording, they experience it as a live performance

because in their minds they picture the people performing it (Auslander, 2002, 2006a,

2006d). These imaginings are informed by multiple other mediatised factors, including a performer’s back story, interviews, fashion, merchandise, and album art recordings. All of these mediatised factors can all be analysed under the auspices of performance or “live music,” and therefore Goffman’s (1959) definition of a social encounter as individuals in

“one another’s continuous presence” (p. 8) can be expanded to include mediatised presence

(Auslander, 2006a). A mediatised presence is free of temporal restrictions.

Conclusion to Part Two

By taking Auslander’s (2006a) concept of mediatised performance and applying it to a song, the songwriting process is able to be removed from temporal restrictions (the segmented narrative of conception, recording, production, performance) and viewed as social interaction. The songwriter, performer, and audience are all part of the continuous social presence in Goffman’s (1959) definition of a social interaction. The songwriter is engaging in the social process of persona creation in moving a song toward completion, as they hide certain elements of the song and reveal or exaggerate other elements during the editing, production, or performance of the song, just as an individual hides and reveals elements of themselves in a social setting. As soon as a songwriter becomes aware of the persona they are writing for (whether themselves or somebody else), a song shifts from being expressive to performance-focused, from being intrapersonal to interpersonal, from an individual act to a social encounter. The creative choices are informed by the elements at play in a social encounter. A song thus becomes a collaboration, not just between any songwriting, production, and performance collaborators, but also between the songwriter and the audience.

A song which operates in harmony with the persona of the performer resonates with an audience as being authentic. By being conscious of the persona that will perform the song, the songwriter can make creative choices that strengthen the harmony between singer and song and be evaluated as authentic by an audience.

Part Three: The Context of Musical Theatre

The creative work at the heart of this investigation is a new Australian musical, Muriel’s

Wedding the Musical (MWTM). MWTM is a large-scale musical with a high budget and strict deadlines, making it ideally suited to applying my persona-centred songwriting method in a professional environment. This section examines the domain of musical theatre, and specifically the domain of the Australian musical. I then explore the way a musical theatre work is created, as this provides the context in which the persona-centred songwriting method is applied and tested.

The History of the Musical

Musical theatre, or “the musical” is a term used widely and inconsistently, but in its simplest definition refers to storytelling that uses popular songs and dialogue to form a narrative. In other words, it is a play with music (Kenrick, 2008). The musical form (as distinct from opera or variety) dates back to as early as the eighteenth century. Mordden (2013) cites The

Beggar’s Opera in England (1728) and The Archers (1776) in the United States as the earliest known examples of the form (pp. 3-12). But it was not until the early twentieth century around the geographical area of Broadway (West 42nd Street) in New York that it coalesced

into a form resembling its current one and became a regular feature of the theatrical

landscape.

While the musical is often said to be an American form, the influence, interplay, and

occasional dominance by practitioners from the United Kingdom have been integral to its

development. The West End of London was producing original musicals in parallel with

Broadway throughout the twentieth century (Kenrick, 2008; Morley, 1987). Broadway and

the West End remain the twin epicentres of the musical theatre world. Initially, the songs in

musical theatre tended to be vehicles for singing or dance breaks, rarely propelling the plot

forward or providing insight into character (Kowalke, 2007; Sondheim, 2010). Rogers and

Hammerstein’s Oklahoma (1943) was a watershed in the development of the musical. Its

songs functioned as in classical opera: they were integrated into the narrative, and seamlessly

brought together dance, dialogue, and music into the storytelling of a piece. This had been

done before, but unlike previous efforts, Oklahoma was a huge commercial smash. It altered

what was possible and profitable from a producer’s perspective, and what was desirable from

an audience’s (Kenrick, 2008). The expectation today is that a musical is not merely a play

with music but a storytelling form that aims to seamlessly incorporate song, dance, and

(often) dialogue into a whole that is greater than the sum of its parts.

The large budget required to launch a new musical means that producers tend to select

projects that have commercially desirable attributes—in particular, material that audiences

will find familiar. Stage musicals are considered a high-risk, high-return endeavour in the

music business, with a new musical needing around A$10 million to launch on Broadway,

and often taking up to 10 years to produce. One industry maxim suggests that three-quarters

of all shows operate at a loss (Lunden, 2014; Soloski, 2016). In order for musicals to be

considered hits they must stay running for lengthy periods on Broadway and in the West End,

and have a life as touring shows internationally (“No business like show business”, 2016).

Producers aim to mitigate this risk by using source material that is likely to be familiar to

potential audiences. Stories that have already proven successful as books or films are seen as

safer bets than completely original material. In January 2015, 11 of the 19 musicals running

on Broadway and over half of those in the West End were adaptations of either books or

films (Gordon & Jubin, 2015). Muriel’s Wedding the film (1994) had international success

and therefore likely strong audience recognition. The blockbuster musicals Aladdin, The

Sound of Music, The Lion King, Legally Blonde, Little Shop of Horrors, Kinky Boots, Singin’

in the Rain, Fiddler on the Roof, and 42nd Street are all commercially successful adaptations of previously popular cinematic releases (“Broadway World DB”, n.d.).

The jukebox musical has evolved as another strategy for increasing the likelihood of financial success. Jukebox musicals string together established hit songs rather than using an original score (Lunden, 2014). This offers music publishers a way of further exploiting their existing catalogues, and audiences at least the guarantee of hearing music they enjoy in exchange for the high ticket price of commercial theatre (Lunden, 2014; Peters, 2011). The rise of the jukebox musical echoes the early- to mid-twentieth century interplay of popular song and the theatre, but the industrial mechanism behind this practice is more sophisticated than it was last century. Music publishers are specifically targeting a particular demographic—baby boomers—and banking on them to bring their families to the productions (Lunden, 2014). Of course, there is still risk in the jukebox musical, and commercial failures include The Beach

Boys’ musical Good Vibrations, Lennon, and A Night with Janis Joplin. Notable for their

success are We Will Rock You, which features the music of Queen; Beautiful, which features the music of Carole King; Jersey Boys, which features the music of The Four Seasons; and

American Idiot, featuring the music of Green Day (Gundersen, 2011). Of particular relevance

here is Mamma Mia!, a jukebox musical featuring the songs of ABBA, which remains one of

the highest grossing musicals of all time (Lunden, 2014). Muriel’s Wedding the Musical

features four hit ABBA songs alongside our original score. In this sense it functions as a

semi-jukebox musical. With its title and story taken from a successful film, and four of its

songs already hits, Muriel’s Wedding was desirable as a project for Global Creatures and the

Sydney Theatre Company to invest in.

Modern Rock/Pop Songwriters and the Musical

From the late nineteenth century until the mid-1960s musical theatre was the source of a great

number of hit songs to be found in Western culture (Kenrick, 2008). Its role in hit song

production diminished after the advent of the post-war youth consumer market and the rise of rock’n’roll and pop music (Kenrick, 2008). In the post rock/pop era of songwriting, many pop songwriters have written musical theatre with varying levels of success. While there is less interaction between the mainstream hit charts and musical theatre, there has been constant interaction between songwriters in the popular music field and the musical theatre field. Global Creatures, the production company that hired Kate Miller-Heidke and me to

write the original music and lyrics for Muriel’s Wedding the Musical, had numerous

antecedents of pop musicians writing musical theatre from which to draw. Sixties pop

songwriter Lionel Bart wrote numerous pop hits, including “Living Doll” for Cliff Richards,

before writing the hit musical Oliver! (Stafford & Stafford, 2011). Andrew Lloyd Webber

and Tim Rice pitched pop songs before moving into musical theatre (Rice, 1999). Elton John

(Billy Elliot, The Lion King), ABBA (Chess), Burt Bacharach (Promises, Promises), Cindy

Lauper (Kinky Boots), Dolly Parton (9 to 5), Sara Bareilles (Waitress), Duncan Sheik (Spring

Awakening), and Pete Townshend (Tommy) are all examples of writers from the commercial

rock/pop field who have written for hit musicals (Cox, 2006; Pop Stars, 2014; Wilde, 2017;

Zollo, 1997). There have been other forays into the musical theatre world by songwriters

from the pop music field: Jimmy Buffett (Escape to Margaritaville), Boy George (Taboo),

Paul Simon (The Capeman), Tori Amos (The Light Princess), Sheryl Crow (Diner), and

Sting (The Last Ship) (“Could Sheryl Crow’s DINER”, 2018; “Critics Divided,” 2013;

Gundersen, 2011; Lyman, 1998; “Panned Boy George Musical,” 2004; Rovzar, 2018; Wilde,

2017).

Musical Theatre in Australia

The domain of music theatre in Australia presents specific challenges to the creative work in

this thesis. This section examines the context in which the creative work is taking place. First,

I look at how music theatre in Australia is afforded limited financial resources (despite

having a comparatively large budget for Muriel’s Wedding the Musical). Second, I survey the career prospects for songwriting in the domain of Australian music theatre.

The production of a new work the size and scale of Muriel’s Wedding the Musical brings with it a set of challenges specific to the realm of musical theatre in Australia. The Music

Trust, a non-profit advocacy group, lists four scales of musical in Australia, based on budget, cast, and venue size: the Studio musical (50–250 seats; 3–5 cast); the Bijou musical (250–650 seats; 5–8 cast); the Boulevard musical (650–1200 seats; 11–16 cast); and the Commercial musical (1200+ seats; 14–22 cast) (Senczuk, 2017b). In the introduction to The Music Trust’s

SWOT analysis of Australian musical theatre, Senczuk (2017b) notes that these four scales exist “seemingly independently” of each other, and that “there are no established and strategic musical theatre networks, nor recognised development processes that have commercial performance outcomes, nor any form of ongoing, integrated, symbiotic relationships.”

This fragmentation differs from the American and British contexts, both of which have specific geographic locations (Broadway and the West End respectively) with established financial and creative infrastructures in place to facilitate the production and exploitation of new musical theatre (Senczuk, 2017b). Australia’s comparatively small population (and by extension audience sizes) means locally produced shows simply cannot sell the quantity of tickets required to recoup the large budget needed for the development of a commercial musical (Jones, 2017). Producers, rather than investing in new commercial-scale Australian

musicals, are more inclined to import overseas “blockbuster” productions from Broadway

and the West End (Senczuk, 2017a). The majority of new Australian musicals are on the

Studio or Bijou scale (Senczuk, 2017a). The creative and financial resources required to

develop and stage an internationally viable commercial musical are rarely made available to

Australian productions. When occasionally there is an investment in a commercial-scale

production in Australia, the explicit ambition is for that show to appear on Broadway and the

West End (Senczuk, 2017a, 2017b). According to The Music Trust’s guidelines, Muriel’s

Wedding the Musical is a Boulevard-scale production. It was launched at the Roslyn Packer

Theatre, Sydney, an 800-seat venue. However, its cast size of 29 and multimillion-dollar

budget reveal the producers’ ambitions for the show. It would go on to three seasons in

commercial theatres and is currently in development with the aim of a commercial season in the United States.

Sustaining a career in the domain of Australian musical theatre is a challenging proposition.

To date, only two Australian commercial-scale musicals have had significant international

success, The Boy from Oz and Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. Both are jukebox musicals

(Senczuk, 2017a). There are original Australian musicals that have enjoyed domestic

commercial success, but they tend to be smaller scale productions (Senczuk, 2017a, 2017b).

Casey Bennetto’s Keating! (2005), which is a Bijou-scale musical, started as a Melbourne

International Comedy Festival show (Roberts, 2005), and went on to do an extensive tour of theatres nationally (“Keating!”, 2018). Eddie Perfect’s Shane Warne: The Musical (2007) was a similar size production with a limited national run of five theatres (“Shane Warne”,

2018). Perfect also wrote the larger scale Vivid White in 2017, which was critically well received but had only one run in Melbourne, at the Sumner Theatre in 2017 (“Vivid White,”

2018). Relevant here for his background as a pop songwriter, Tim Finn (ex-Split Enz and

Crowded House) wrote the music and lyrics to a new Australian musical launched by

Queensland Theatre Company in 2015, Ladies in Black. Based on Madeleine St John’s novel,

The Women in Black, the musical was a financial and critical success, opening initially in

Brisbane with subsequent seasons in Melbourne and Sydney. It won a Helpmann Award in

2016 for Best New Australian Work (Cooper, 2016).

All of the above are noteworthy examples of the successful end of the spectrum of original works of musical theatre in Australia, but even the longest running production among them consisted of only one national tour. This hardly bodes well for sustaining a meaningful living from being a composer of musical theatre in Australia. One of Australia’s most successful musical theatre producers, John Frost, recommended that Australian writers of musical theatre should “leave and pursue a career in New York or London” (Smith, 2017, 3:09). Two notable examples of Australians who have done this successfully are Eddie Perfect and Tim

Minchin. Perfect moved to New York and wrote music and lyrics for the Broadway adaptation of Tim Burton’s Beetlejuice and the Broadway production of King Kong (Gordon,

2018). Perhaps the most successful Australian musical theatre songwriter is Tim Minchin.

Matilda the Musical is a musical adaptation of Roald Dahl’s bestselling children’s book,

Matilda, featuring original lyrics and music by Minchin. The UK’s Royal Shakespeare

Company mounted the production, launching in Stratford-upon-Avon in 2010. It was successfully mounted on West End, Broadway, and in numerous international territories.

Matilda the Musical was critically and financially successful in its field, lauded by critics and winning seven Olivier Awards and two Tony Awards (“Matilda musical,” 2012; “Tony

Awards,” 2013). Minchin’s career before writing Matilda the Musical was as a singer/songwriter comedian in the cabaret genre, and he had performed extensively for his own comedy persona before the success of Matilda the Musical (Karena, 2008). Minchin subsequently wrote the music and lyrics for a musical adaptation of the film Groundhog Day, which despite a commercial setback on Broadway was a critical success with future potential

(Portwood, 2017). John Frost may have been right to assert that opportunities to Australian creators of musical theatre were best found overseas. The meaningful financial success stories of the Australian musical either contain no original music or were written by

Australians who have left Australia.

Musical Theatre Creation Process

In contrast to the rock/pop genres I worked in previously, traditional theatre creation, as undertaken on Muriel’s Wedding the Musical, is hierarchical and a structured creative environment (Dean & Carra, 1989). While there are other forms of theatre creation which follow different creative processes (“devising” or collective improvisation, for example), the traditional form undertaken on MWTM is highly codified and procedural (Kershaw, 2010).

Musical theatre is a highly collaborative form (Bickerstaff, 2011). At the core of a typical musical theatre creative team lie, in order of power, the director, the lyricist and composer, and the writer of the book (script)— although in MWTM, the book writer held contractually mandated veto power over the creative output. Outside this initial creative circle reside the musical supervisor, musical director, choreographer, set designer, costume designer, and the lighting and sound designers. My role on MWTM was as lyricist and composer, alongside my primary collaborator, Kate Miller-Heidke.

The script and music are rewritten through a series of escalating workshops, dependent on budget restrictions. These takes the form of table reads, sometimes with just the core creative team, and sometimes with small ensembles of actors who read multiple parts. Problematic sections are read, reread, discussed, and revised in a group setting. The work is taken away and the process is repeated.

Larger workshops consist of entire run-throughs of the show, sometimes with a guest audience in the rehearsal space. These are in turn recorded and reworked, discussed and

experimented with. Parallel to this process, the lighting, sound, costume, and set teams are

working to design and build their components of the show, in workshops and through

consultations with the director, and at regular intervals with the creative team.

Rehearsals begin, and in a new musical the creative content is rewritten throughout this

process. The musicians also rehearse during this time, and the musical director, musical

supervisor, and musical team oversee this part of the production closely, adapting the

arrangements as necessary. The cast and musicians come together in the “sitzprobe,” which is

the first time the cast sings with more than a piano accompaniment and the first time the

musicians perform with the singers. This is another crucial step in the collaborative process,

where ideas are refined and arrangements are honed. Notes are taken by the team and music

is reworked. Finally, the production bumps into a theatre, where the departments of staging,

costume, lighting, music, videography, and sound design come together for the first time.

After a dry tech—running technical show cues without the performers—the actual tech run

begins. During this period the show is integrated as a whole under the guidance of the

director. Notes are made by each department, listing concerns, criticisms, and requests for

alterations. These are filtered through department heads and discussed with the director, and

the process of refining the show continues. Dress rehearsal is the next major milestone, where

the show is performed in full costume and makeup. Dress rehearsals vary in how public they

are. Some are open to the public for discounted rates, or sometimes just to subscribers. Others

are open to friends and family of people involved or affiliated with the productions, while

some are completely closed (Woolford, 2012).

Previews are a series of public shows leading up to opening night, usually with tickets sold at a discounted rate. While it is understood that a dress rehearsal is just that, a preview is a

performance. Previews are an opportunity to observe live audiences’ reactions to the material

in a semi-closed environment. It is understood the show hasn’t officially opened, and critics

are not yet evaluating the piece as a finished work. Previews function in a similar fashion to

test-screenings in cinema. The audience’s reactions to the performances shape the material.

Many of the observations made by the various departments during the previews are integrated

into the show where possible, but at some point, the show is frozen, meaning no more

rewrites are permitted, giving the cast and crew time to perfect the final version of the show.

It is this version presented at opening night and repeated thereafter.

The nature of theatre’s structure and creative process has significant implications for the

application of a songwriting technique initially developed in the domain of rock/pop.

Bickerstaff (2011) observes that theatre creation is “truly synergistic rather than simply…an

aggregate creative activity” (p. 43). The shifting terrain of the overall work constantly

reshapes the songwriting material in a more profound way than the process of rock/pop music

production. The requirements of dramaturgy also mean that songs must often respond to

prescriptive lists of narrative and expositional requirements. Previewing work enables the

songwriter to observe audience reactions “off the record” and make adaptations. While this is

commonly done with songs in rock/pop genres by performing live, it is not a convention

shared by the audience as it is in theatre. Theatre is explicitly concerned with persona. The entire business of casting is concerned with the way actors’ everyday identities and

performance personae interact with the roles they are auditioning for and later performing in.

Testing a songwriting approach that relies on persona in this environment provides an

opportunity to see how different personae interact with the same song.

Conclusion to Literature and Contextual Review

The authenticity discourses running through popular music privilege notions of intrinsic

motivation, individual expression, and authenticity. These values are somewhat incongruous

with the realities of having a career as a professional songwriter. This presents the research

problem: “How might one approach songwriting with the goal of both creative expression

and making a living?” Songwriters chiefly make their money from royalties they are paid for

the use of the copyright they hold. These are paid across different revenue streams. In an

industry that is increasingly collaborative and competitive, the more material a songwriter

can create, the greater the likelihood of being paid. Therefore, a further question might be:

“How can one be prolific while creating music that resonates with audiences?” This thesis

offers the notion of persona-centred songwriting as one possible solution to these questions,

investigating its efficacy as a method by applying it to the creation of a new Australian

musical.

Mindfully employing the concept of persona to write music moves the focus of songwriting

away from the intrapersonal and toward the interpersonal. Persona frames songwriting as a

social process with social goals. Persona is a process of hiding and revealing that arises as the

result of an individual being observed. Persona is a co-creation of the observer and the

observed in a process of presentation and evaluation. This evaluation is informed by settings

or frames, which are the social and cultural conventions and expectations surrounding a social encounter or performance (Auslander, 2006b; Goffman, 1959, 1986).

Recognising the existence of persona is a powerful tool for giving an individual agency. Just

by being aware that the persona is a process of hiding and revealing based on specific frames

of expectation, an individual is able to understand that there is a choice in what elements of

the self are revealed and what are hidden. When extended into the realm of performance, as

shown by Auslander (2006b), this gives a performer agency over what elements of

expression are revealed and hidden. When extended further by considering songwriting as an

act of performance, the songwriter has agency over what elements of lyrics and music are

64 expressed (kept) and what elements are hidden (discarded). During the writing process, focusing on the musical persona that will perform the work can assist the songwriter in creating material where song and musical persona are consonant with each other and therefore resonate with an audience as being authentic.

Just as in a social setting, where an individual will check in with their fellow observers, a performer receives ongoing feedback on how they are meeting expectations from their audience. If, as in Auslander’s (2002) concept of mediatised liveness, the immediate presence of the observer (and therefore the temporal element) is removed from the performance, the observer/audience exists only in the performer’s mind at the time of engaging in mediatised forms of expression (such as music recording, interviews, or music videos). The same is true for the songwriter—the audience exists in their imagination, and it is by the presence of this imagined future audience that a persona forms and the process of hiding and revealing begins. Goffman (1959) asserts that there is variation in the degree to which an individual is immersed in their surrounding setting or frame—from being completely unaware of their expectations to cynically manipulating their behaviour. By mindfully applying a musical persona, and so by extension its set of conditions (audience, genre, performer’s habitus), a songwriter can be seen to be manipulating this dynamic without cynically operating inside it.

While Auslander’s model of popular music performance draws chiefly on the sociology of

Goffman (Auslander, 2006c) and Csikszentmihalyi’s (2014b) systems model of creativity draws on the work of Darwin and Bourdieu, they have commonalities. Auslander’s (2006c) notion of musical persona comprises a performer’s presentation to an audience that evaluates against frames of convention. Similarly, in the systems model, a person with the knowledge of a specific domain presents a new work to a field of gatekeepers who evaluate it against the

65 conventions of the domain. Persona in songwriting is a concept that operates between the terrain of Auslander’s performance theory and Csikszentmihalyi’s creativity theory.

Figure 8. Keir Nuttall, Simon Phillips, Kate Miller-Heidke

Note. Photo: Sydney Theatre Company.

Chapter Three: Methodology and Methods

Introduction

In this chapter I outline the qualitative methodology that underpins my research, and the

specific methods that I used to address the research questions. I have combined action

research, participant observation, and Nelson’s (2006) model of performance as research and

Schön’s (1983) model of reflective practice. This investigation is a practice-led work,

focused on the development of a new songwriting technique centred around persona theory.

The creative practice component, making up 70% of the overall thesis, is the songwriting

work I have completed for Muriel’s Wedding the Musical. The remaining 30% will consist of

a written exegesis of approximately 30,000 words. The material that I analyse is either my

own, to which I own the copyright, or co-authored with Kate Miller-Heidke, who has

provided written permission for my use of the material in this thesis. Kate Miller-Heidke and

I own 50% of each of the copyrighted music and lyrics on the original score of MWTM. We

have a writer’s agreement, established in 2007, which we call a “Lennon/McCartney split,”

because, like that songwriting team, we take 50% of the copyright of every song on which we

collaborate, irrespective of the literal percentage of authorship, which varies (Whissell,

1996). Sony ATV, with whom Kate Miller-Heidke and I have a publishing agreement, have given me written permission to analyse the material for which they have the rights of administration and exploitation.

Informed by Auslander’s (2006b) assertion that performance is primarily social, and

Csikszentmihalyi’s (2014b) assertion that creativity is primarily social, this thesis asserts that songwriting is a social process. Participant observation offers an approach to research grounded in social interaction. The researcher is immersed in the cultural and social settings as a participant, as well as observing (Spradley, 1980). Musical theatre has a highly collaborative creation process. I was an observer and a participant in the socio-cultural setting

that formed the creation and performance of Muriel’s Wedding the Musical, both working

within the group while collecting data about the process and individuals involved. I received

ethical approval for the participant observer research in this thesis (QUT Ethics Approval

Number 1900000239).

The applied model at the heart of this thesis is a songwriting method I have developed over my professional career. Prior to undertaking this investigation, I had not consciously thought about my process, it being simply an approach I had arrived at in response to professional challenges. My knowledge of songwriting was tacit: I was engaged in what Schön (1983) termed “knowing-in-action” (p. 64). Schön implies that in the natural pursuit of professional knowledge, a practitioner undertakes experimentation that is analogous to the scientific method. An approach to a problem is tested, what fails is discarded, and what remains forms the basis of “knowledge-in-practice” (Schön, 1983, p. 64). Knowledge-in-practice is often opaque, because it is difficult to put into words (tacit), and also because the preservation of opacity elevates the perception of the professional’s mastery (Schön, 1983). It is the mystification of the songwriting process itself that provided part of the impetus for this research. There is no shortage of how-to books on the market, but they describe craft and business as separate concerns, and do not address how to approach the “myths and often uncritically held beliefs” (McIntyre, Fulton, & Paton, 2016, p. 2) that face the songwriter in their profession. It makes gaining knowledge needed to pursue a career “more closed to inquiry than it needs to be” (Schön, 1983, p. 332). In my professional practice I have found the idea of persona a useful way to reconcile a cognitive dissonance I held between musical expression and the music business— the “conflicts of values, goals, purposes, and interests”

(Schön, 1983, p. 27).

Schön (1983) advocates for the practitioner-researcher to engage in reflection in action. This involves, during the process of creating a work, allowing the natural reflection that a practitioner engages in to open and expand into an ongoing analysis within the larger context of their research framework. Functioning as action research, my persona-centred songwriting method works in an iterative manner to allow reflection in action, and reintegration of collaborators’ notes, shifting personae, and other emergent and unexpected factors arising in the natural process of creative practice

Practice-led Research

Practice-led research is ideally suited to this study, as it is able to take the practitioner knowledge that is intuitive, implicit, and inferred, and formalise it within a theoretical framework to create a synthesis of knowledge between the professional field and the academy (Gray,1996; Schön, 1983; Sullivan, 2009). It is a powerful means of investigating the field and scope in which the work exists (Gray,1996; Nelson, 2006; Schön, 1983). I have decades of experience as a songwriter, but am relatively new to scholarly work, therefore a practice-led approach informed by Schön’s (1983) reflective practice is appropriate.

As Nelson observes: “Artists engaging in inquiry through their practices may not have thought of what they did as ‘research’ even though they were aware of an exploratory dynamic to address issues and achieve insights” (2006, p. 3). The challenge for a practice-led researcher is to illuminate their knowledge about this exploratory dynamic and present it in a clear, academically rigorous framework. Nelson (2006) offers the concept of praxis as a solution, as an amalgam of both theory and practice.

Nelson’s (2006) model of practice-led research (“or practice as research in the arts”) has praxis as a result of interplay between three distinct modes of knowing (see figure 9).

“Know-how” is the internalised, often tacit knowledge that a practitioner in the arts brings

from prior research, practice, and professional life. “Know-what” is the necessary reflection that the practicing researcher must have to critically analyse and make explicit their implicit knowledge. Finally, “know-that” encompasses the traditional and theoretical knowledges of academia, or what Nelson (2006) refers to as “outsider knowledge,” as in “outside of the practitioner’s field” (p. 3). These three forms of knowledge interact and affect each other with the outcome being “new knowledge” in praxis (Nelson, 2006, p. 3).

Figure 9. Diagram after “Modes of Knowing: Multi-Mode Epistemological Model for Practice as Research in the Arts”

Note. Adapted from Practice-as-research and the Problem of Knowledge by R. Nelson, 2013, Performance Research, 11(4), p.3.

A key characteristic of working this way is the emergent nature of an investigator’s

knowledge. As the research and the creative work unfold and inform each other, the

investigation can shift in direction and scope (Gray, 1996; Nelson, 2006; Smith & Dean,

2009).

Action Research

Action research is a method with origins in Lewin’s (1952) response to the tension between rational, linear knowledge creation and the complex, subjective, qualitative world of communities and their contexts within society (Adelman, 1993; Greenwood & Levin, 1998).

Like Nelson’s model of modes of knowing, action research offers an iterative, practice- grounded approach to research that bridges the gap between traditional linear information- gathering and tacit practitioner knowledge (Somekh, 2005; Schön, 1983). It is a system that can accommodate the emotional and intuitive elements that are crucial components in the craft of songwriting.

There are many variations of the model, but in one of its simple forms, action research is a cyclical model of enquiry, consisting of the sequence: plan, act, observe, and reflect (Burns,

2007). This sequence offers a way of incorporating findings back into the model of work and reshaping its methods during the investigations, where traditional research might present findings at the end (Burns, 2007). Its iterative, cyclical nature mirrors the natural reassessment and readjustment that happens as part of the process of songwriting. In this type of research, the role of the researcher is grounded within the enquiry, as a participant rather than being an external observer (Stringer, 2007). The form of action research underpinning this thesis is “an individual affair through which professionals can address questions of the kind ‘How can I improve my practice?’” (Reason & Bradbury, 2008, p. 7). Action research has commonalities with my own independently constructed model of persona-centred songwriting.

Figure 10 . Diagram After “Simple Action Research Model”.

Note. Adapted from Systemic action research: A strategy for whole system change by D. Burns, 2007, Bristol University Press, p. 12.

A key facet of the creative process is perseverance, and play reduces fatigue in working

toward a goal by shifting the focus of an activity from goal-oriented to intrinsically motivated

(Csikszentmihalyi, 2014a). This enables the deferral of closure in a creative practice. A practitioner can “allow a new idea to mature instead of forcing it prematurely into the shape of an already existing one” (Csikszentmihalyi, 2014a, p. 163). However, choices must be made to complete a creative work. Csikszentmihalyi (2014a) offers the concept of “psychic energy” as a means of defining the combination of motivation, affect, and cognition occupying the attention of consciousness when making choices (p. 166), asserting that it is not enough to simply look at the process of creativity as being synonymous with problem- solving. This notion is echoed in my habit of thinking about musical ideas as being “alive” if they are worth pursuing in the process of writing a song. An idea that is alive sparks a sense of play.

Csikszentmihalyi’s notion of flow (1990) and systems model of creativity (2014b) together provide insight into both the intrapersonal and the intersubjective facets of songwriting.

Firstly, flow and its relationship to play help to illuminate the parts of my applied model of songwriting that relate to practitioner intention, mindset, and creative decision-making. The

72 systems model of creativity is a useful framework for situating the resultant work within its wider sociocultural context. Person, domain, and field are concepts that contain the elements present in Auslander’s model of popular music performance that scaffolds this thesis (see figure 7, p. 51).

Applied Model of Persona-centred Songwriting

The applied songwriting model outlined below consists of two key phases in its execution, the first existing prior to the emergence of a persona, and the second afterwards. The first phase of this creative process can be seen as expressive, and the second as both performance- focused and expressive.

Phase One: Subjective Process

My first step in undertaking this investigation was to capture and define my songwriting process. I have used some version of this model in my professional life for the last decade, and yet I was not consciously aware of its specific components or dynamics. By using the method of reflective journalling, I was able to observe my daily pattern of work and unpack my songwriting process.

Figure 11. Phase one: my songwriting process pre-persona (Steps 1-4).

Note. Diagram: Keir Nuttall.

In this initial process, I have assigned discrete, temporal actions—play, rest, edit, listen, generate, retrieve—to a tacit process that is highly subjective and in my own perception occurs in a nonlinear fashion. My aim is to define a process that could be understood and implemented by other songwriters. A key characteristic that led to defining the six different actions in my process is that of my intention during each step of songwriting. One intention could be to move the song toward completion while another could be the intention to deliberately ignore any larger goals. The former is pragmatic and the latter playful.

Step 1: Archive

At the top of the diagram is the archive, a central component of the process. The archive includes every musical work I’ve ever created, on a micro to macro scale: entire songs, chord progressions, unused choruses, verses, phrases, riffs, scraps of melody, lyrics or descriptions, titles, even memories. In the above diagram, these are all labelled generically as ideas. The archive is housed in notebooks, audio folders, voice memos, and in my memory. In short, the archive covers any piece of pre-existing useable material that can be fed into the rest of the process. An idea can be years old or it could have been archived (rested) moments ago. The archive can be seen as all the raw materials of any potential creative output. The archive creates a sense of abundance when sitting down to work on a new project.

Step 2a: Research

Directly feeding into the archive is the act of research. Research includes everything from aimlessly listening to music or music-related material, or learning musical theory or new pieces, to studying the symbolic language of another genre (domain acquisition). It can also refer to actively seeking specific references for production material or songwriting. Research refers to anything which helps to inform the contents of the archive, whether by design or chance.

Step 2b: Retrieve and generate

The retrieve and generate cells represent where the process of songwriting begins. The process starts by either methodically exploring the archive for material (retrieve) or improvising to create material (generate). The methodical retrieval of ideas takes the form of listening back to voice memos, old demos and songs, reading notes or lyrics, old journals, actively thinking, brainstorming, or simply daydreaming. The act of generating includes improvising in any number of ways, either by writing lyrics, playing an instrument, toying with loops or effects on Ableton Live (a digital audio workstation) or a keyboard or piano.

When either retrieving or generating I am looking for material that has the subjective quality

of seeming alive. I have arrived at the term “alive” to describe the qualitative experience of feeling that a particular idea is worth pursuing. An idea that is alive can be defined as an idea that engages my focus, or creates “psychic energy” (Csikszentmihalyi, 2014b, p. 166). It is important at this stage of the process not to become distracted by measuring the quality of an idea, or if working toward a specific goal (writing to a brief for example), not to focus on the

end goal. All that is important is that the idea seem alive. The reason for this is that an idea

can be useful for the associations it triggers, or even the effect it has by interacting with other

ideas before being removed from the work, and premature judgement of its quality can

preclude these potentially useful interactions.

Step 3: Craft

At some point during the actions of generate or retrieve, the process takes on a different

character, that of the song being actively worked on. The bottom part of the diagram

represents this crafting part of my songwriting process. The box labelled craft contains the

four elements of play, listen, edit, and rest. The action play is similar to generate in that it is

improvisational in nature, but unlike generate it concerns a particular idea that has already

been selected in the generate/retrieve process, and instigates playful variation on a particular

idea. This part of the process is recorded, and at regularly intuited intervals, the recording is

played back to reframe the idea or gain some psychological distance from it. This is the listen

action. After re-evaluation the idea is then either edited, rested, or returned to play. While

both play and edit involve reshaping existing material, the difference is in intention. Editing

carries the intention of deliberately moving the material toward an end goal. Play is the

playful reshaping an idea while focusing on the idea itself rather than an external goal.

These elements do not happen in any set order, but every action taken in the crafting of a

work toward completion falls within one of the four categories. Rest may seem like a passive

action but is equally as important as the other elements as it actively refreshes perspective.

Only through resting am I able to keep any particular idea alive for as long as possible and

avoid self-consciousness or overthinking. Sometimes in order to complete work, it is necessary to simply craft an idea that no longer feels alive, but the rest is still a valuable part

of the process to gain fresh perspective on the work.

Step 4: Collaboration

Where a collaborator is involved the process functions similarly. When working with a

collaborator who is absent, their material (either recorded demos, written lyrics, or verbal

instructions) functions as my own material does from within the archive, available for

retrieval. The retrieve process starts methodically, but continues instinctively, as ideas trigger

other ideas and cascading associations. The process moves into the craft zone once material

is selected. When working with a collaborator who is present, generate refers to improvising

together, or discussing outcomes, brainstorming, or any interaction that leads to material

feeling alive, and from there runs through play, listen, edit, and rest. These steps are

undertaken together.

Phase Two: Intersubjective Process

As all of the works in MWTM begin with persona, it is phase two of my applied model, post-

persona, that is pertinent to this investigation.

In the phase one model, steps 1-4 occur freely without any contextual framework or

application in mind. In the next phase, which I call the interpersonal process model, I

introduce the concept of persona. In this step, I contextualise, or try to focus the simple

generation of ideas for the archive, to see if an idea might reflect or point towards the persona

77 of a particular artist or character performing it. In this way, a persona might arise naturally as part of the process or a specific persona may be introduced from the beginning. The process of persona brings stability into chaos and pulls the nebulous strands of ideas toward the creation of a distinct piece of work. It is my assertion that as soon as a songwriter becomes aware of the persona they are writing for, the songwriting process becomes an act of performance. Every action within the system is affected by persona, including research.

Considering the song in the context of its performer’s persona influences how ideas are generated, which ideas seem relevant when being retrieved, and in the craft zone, which creative decisions are made. The introduction of persona contextualises or grounds the work; it acts as gravity being introduced into a zero-gravity environment.

Figure 12. Phase two: my songwriting process post-persona (Step 5).

Note. Diagram: Keir Nuttall.

The blue frame of persona in my model represents the intersubjective process of persona outlined in Auslander’s (2004b) model of popular music performance, extended to include songwriting. It contains the elements of the everyday identities of the performer, songwriters, and collaborators in a process of hiding and revealing in an act of presentation (of the song) to an audience, who evaluate it against frames of convention, giving rise to a resultant persona. The difference between Auslander’s model of performance persona, and my model

79 of persona in songwriting is that key elements in my model exist largely in the mind of the songwriter (the future performance and audience) during the process of composition.

A Note on Character and Persona

In this model of songwriting character and persona are equivalent. In Auslander’s model, character appears as another layer of liminal experience to performer and performance.

Auslander (2004b) maintains that character emerges only when the performer sings “a song that defines a character textually” (p. 7). Roesner (2014) asserts that character operates in theatre as a function of narrative, and is informed by what it does and says within the action of a discrete performance. Yet as opposed to a persona, a character is unaware it is performing (Megarrity, 2015). What is pertinent to this investigation is the way the persona functions in the mind of the songwriter to inform their creative choices. It doesn’t matter how many layers of subterfuge are going on in the performance. The songwriter treats persona as if the persona doesn’t know it’s a persona, just as if writing for a character. In the mind of the songwriter a persona is informed by their surrounding frames of sociocultural expectations

(Goffman, 1959) and backstory. Similarly, a character is informed by their surrounding frames of narrative. Character and narrative operate as intrinsic elements of the persona, driving the creative process. The concern is not performance analysis but developing a practical approach to writing a song with resonance between audience, song, and singer.

The key difference between writing for the genre of musical theatre as opposed to rock/pop or comedy is that the subject matter is always prescribed in musical theatre. Every song in

MWTM must perform an expositional or dramatic role. However, this presents no tension with my applied model, as character operates as a function of narrative, and an equivalent to persona. The authorship of the character, too, has no bearing on the functioning of the model.

The persona framing the songwriting process has nested within it the intersubjective elements of character, performer, and audience.

Flow

My songwriting process has evolved as a result of seeking out the experience of flow while still being able to pragmatically move a work towards completion. Csikszentmihalyi (2014b) states that flow is most likely to occur when a task occupies the zone between anxiety (too much challenge) and boredom (too little). The songwriting model I arrived at along the path of my career involves a balance between moving a project forward towards completion and engaging in play. In my experience, focusing too much on completion becomes either anxiety-provoking or dull, and focusing too much on play becomes boring or frustratingly open-ended. The elements of my schema balance between expansion and contraction, play and editing, chaos and order. This echoes the conditions that Csikszentmihalyi (2014b) asserts are conducive to flow.

A deliberate mindset of not reaching conclusions too soon permeates the entire process. The rest action functions as a circuit-breaker in the system when goal-oriented writing becomes too apparent, that is, when anxiety reaches a certain threshold or work becomes stale and boring. New ideas can then be generated or retrieved, introducing novelty back into the system while still ostensibly moving toward a clear goal. Play forms an important part of the cycle within the craft zone, and the introduction of novelty helps to engender a spirit of play, maximising the possibility of flow occurring.

The elements of the songwriting model outlined above have commonalities with the steps in the cycle of action research as outlined by Burns (2007). My element of research parallels the element of plan in action research. My elements of generate, retrieve, play, and edit

correspond with the element of action. My element of listen parallels those of observe and

reflect.

Reflective Journal and Field Notes

I undertook a multimodal approach to reflective journalling. Using methods of reflection that

extend beyond the medium of written text “allows for multiple meanings to emerge” (Moffat,

Barton, & Ryan, 2016, p. 763). Throughout the process of working on Muriel’s Wedding the

Musical I kept numerous audio voice memos, emails to myself, digital notes taken on my

iPhone, as well as traditional handwritten notes that ostensibly form a journal, or field notes.

They inform the “narrative” of my process, detailing the unfolding of numerous drafts of the

script, songs, and collaborators’ feedback. This provides an overview of the work as it sits

within the research framework.

Analysis as Narrative Writing

Bolton (2006) argues that “narratives of vital or key areas of professional experience can be

communicated and explored directly and simply through expressive writing.” The act of

constructing information as story creates a structure that “reveals overall meaning” (Winter,

1999, p. 63). Bolton (2006) observes that “[i]nformation is retained in the human mind as narrative” and “[n]arratives express the values of the narrator; they also develop and create values in the telling” (p. 206). In the telling, tacit knowledge is made explicit. A narrative is by nature biased and pieced together from a human memory. However, these human biases, when acknowledged by the recognition that all personal recounting is storytelling, can help to perceive things otherwise hidden (Bolton, 2006). By writing the experience in chronological order, informed by my notes of the time, I am able to access insights and memories that were in the moment beyond my field of awareness. Narrative is a useful means to provide the context and background of the creative work.

Audio

Most of the songs began as iPhone voice memos, and then in my home studio demo

recordings were made and arrangements put together, some of them extensively detailed,

which would form the backbone of the final stage arrangements. Kate and I sang all the parts,

and I played virtual versions of all the instruments using Ableton Live, the digital audio

workstation, as well as my own guitars, bass and so on.

Archival Material

My personal archive consists of lyrics from early drafts and redrafts, early drafts of the script, and the official score. There are also extensive notes taken from workshops and development meetings, and transcripts of discussions and interviews. I also use emails between collaborators as a source of data.

Awards, Press and Media Output

I draw on awards, reviews, and social media to ascertain the final production’s interaction with the systems model of the field, person, and domain.

Conclusion

This is a practice-led research work, informed by Schön’s (1983) notion of reflective practice, and Nelson’s (2013) model of practice as research in the arts. The aim of using these methodologies is to take my tacit practitioner knowledge, developed in a professional setting, and formalise it within the peer-reviewed domain of the academy. The songwriting process is iterative in nature, resonant with the action research sequence of plan, act, observe, and reflect (Burns, 2007). My model of persona-centred songwriting follows the cycle generate/retrieve, play, listen, and edit. By applying and testing this model in the creation of a new Australian music theatre work, Muriel’s Wedding the Musical, I take a songwriting

method developed tacitly in the professional domain, and reapply it in the professional

83 domain framed by formal research methodologies. The music theatre world is highly collaborative, and therefore the research in this thesis is informed by the notion of participant observation, where the researcher is immersed in the social and cultural setting of the investigation (Spradley, 1980).

Chapter Four: Creative Practice and Analysis

The creative work Muriel’s Wedding the Musical is two hours and twenty minutes long, with a cast of 30 performers and nine musicians. It opened on 17 November 2017. The score consists of 21 original songs, all registered with the Australian Performing Rights

Association with lyrics and music divided equally between me and my primary collaborator,

Kate Miller-Heidke. The original songs are as follows:

ACT ONE

“Sunshine State of Mind”

“The Bouquet”

“Meet the Heslops”

“Progress”

“Can't Hang”

“Lucky Last”

“Perry Heslop”

“People People”

“Girls Like Us”

“Amazing”

“Sydney”

“Strangely Perfect Stranger”

“Any Ordinary Night”

ACT TWO

“Here Comes the Bride”

“Never Stick Your Neck Out”

“Why Can't That Be Me?”

“Life is a Competition”

“Mr and Mrs Schkuratov”

“Shared, Viral, Linked, Liked”

“My Mother”

“A True Friend”

ATV music publishing.)

The following chapter is divided into two parts. Part one uses Csikszentmihalyi’s (2014b) systems model of creativity to situate Muriel’s Wedding the Musical within the context of its surrounding culture and society. This is done to examine how the entire creative work functioned in its larger commercial and critical environment, as this thesis involves the testing of a songwriting method intended to be applied in a professional setting. Part two of this chapter presents three songs written as part of the creative work and explores how the persona-centred songwriting method functioned as it was applied to their creation. The three

86 songs were chosen specifically because they provide insight into different aspects of the process. The songwriting model functions as an action research model. It is iterative in nature, and therefore the analysis is necessarily repetitive in structure, as each iteration of the process is detailed. The writing is narrative in style to provide structural variation within this repetition, and to provide a linear account of a creative process that is often nonlinear.

Part One: Situating the Creative Work

Csikszentmihalyi’s (2014b) systems model offers a schema useful for analysing where the creative work sits in the context of the surrounding culture and society. As the domain of musical theatre was unfamiliar to me before undertaking MWTM it was an area in which I had to research the symbolic language, canon, and cultural contexts. Research is one of the key elements in my applied model of songwriting, and the acceptance or rejection of the creative work by the field provides insight into whether or not domain acquisition was achieved. Csikszentmihalyi’s (2014b) concept of field offers an analysis of songwriting outcomes without engaging in the subjective realm of measuring artistic merit. It merely observes the effect the creative work has had on its surrounding domain. The fact that the applied model has at its centre an archive that was created when I was working in a domain and accessed during the creation of MWTM means that the field’s critical response to the work offers insight into the efficacy of the archive as a key method.

Person

I brought to the project an understanding of how the domains of rock/pop, and comedy music function. I had internalised a sense of the expectations and assumptions (or doxa) audiences of comedy and rock/pop would bring to a composition or performance. My knowledge of songwriting, music production, music theory, and the mechanics of the guitar (all rock/pop, some jazz) were also key attributes which existed as part of my habitus. My upbringing in

regional Queensland also meant that the narrative setting of MWTM was entirely familiar to

me, as Porpoise Spit is a fictional place based on PJ Hogan’s hometown of Tweed Heads.

Domain

The domain of musical theatre was one in which I had no prior experience, that is, no prior

understanding of the symbolic language needed to create a successful work within that

domain. There was overlap with some of the conventions of rock/pop, but I am now aware of

the huge amount of knowledge I was lacking regarding the sociocultural expectations

surrounding musical theatre. I had to undergo a period of intense domain acquisition. This took the form of traditional research, but also immersion in the domain during the actual

working process of the show. The primary creative team consisted of Simon Phillips

(director), PJ Hogan (script or book writer), Kate Miller-Heidke, and me. Simon and PJ had a

great influence over the songs and the way they were shaped. Simon Phillips is a successful theatre director whose whole professional life has been spent in the theatre world and he is completely immersed in the domain of music theatre. While PJ Hogan was outside the domain (his domain is filmmaking), he too had undertaken research and domain acquisition leading up to Kate Miller-Heidke and me being involved in the project. Kate’s background includes complete immersion in the domain of rock/pop, but she also studied in the Western classical music tradition and had composed an opera and performed in theatre before MWTM, so had some knowledge of the domain of theatre.

To internalise as much of the symbolic language of musical theatre as possible (domain acquisition) I watched many musicals and clips of musical theatre. As a songwriter with a background originally in indie rock, and later in commercial pop and music comedy there are particular examples of musicals that seemed consonant with my pre-existing knowledge.

Some songs in the musical theatre genre felt natural, already part of my habitus. Both

rock/pop (the domain with which I am most familiar), and musical theatre are Western

twentieth century popular musical forms, so it makes sense that there would be crossovers.

Key musicals that I am implicitly able to understand are Dear Evan Hansen (modern pop

score), The Rocky Horror Picture Show (seventies rock score), Jesus Christ Superstar

(seventies rock score), Little Shop of Horrors, Hairspray, Grease (all fifties rock’n’roll’),

Bring It On (modern pop). By “implicitly able to understand” I mean that I feel I could sit down with the craft I already possess and write a song that might sound at home in any of these musicals, without having to do further research. It is significant that none of these musicals are works of traditional musical theatre genre, but it was useful to explore the songs

in these musicals to see what elements made them function as musical theatre pieces. Key

aspects seemed to be clear diction, and the way songs function within the narrative, moving it

forward or providing exposition into character, place, or plot. The exceptions to this are The

Rocky Horror Picture Show and Hairspray, which have songs with a more arbitrary relationship to the storytelling. The only two traditional musicals that I seem to implicitly understand as entire works are Annie and Oliver! The reason for this may be that they are two works to which I was exposed as a child, and therefore perhaps internalised as if by osmosis.

I was already familiar with the songs.

The Field

Simon Phillips and many of our wider circle of collaborators came to the project with a deep knowledge of the domain of music theatre, in effect acting as the field, as it was they who had the initial influence over which songwriting material was accepted or rejected. Isaac

Hayward (musical director and arranger), Carmen Pavlovic (producer), Ellen Simpson

(associate director), Andrew Hallsworth (choreographer), Guy Simpson (musical supervisor), and Iain Grandage (musical director initially) all influenced the songwriting directly at certain times. The entire cast and crew, including those involved in lighting, set, and costume

design, influenced the way these songs were presented, but did not directly have the power to

accept or reject specific pieces of material.

Later, when the show opened, the work was presented to the wider field in the form of

audiences, the media, and the rest of the theatre and arts industry. This thesis concerns the

period of time in the lead-up to Muriel’s Wedding the Musical’s debut season at Sydney

Theatre Company’s Roslyn Packer Theatre. This three-month season sold out. Subsequently,

MWTM has had commercial seasons at Her Majesty’s Theatre, Melbourne, Queensland

Performing Arts Centre, Brisbane, and the Sydney Lyric Theatre. All three theatres regularly feature large-scale, established musical theatre shows, and this points to the fact that Muriel’s

Wedding the Musical, might be considered a valid part of that domain.

Muriel’s Wedding the Musical was received well by arts critics and journalists. It received

positive reviews in The Australian, the Daily Telegraph, Australian Stage, The Stage, five-

star reviews in Limelight and Time Out, and four-star reviews in The Guardian and the

Sydney Morning Herald (Gans, 2017). The songwriting was singled out for praise in several

reviews. Ben Neutze wrote in the Daily Review: “Miller-Heidke and Nuttall are equally at

home writing intimate, conversational numbers for their characters (their compositions for

Muriel and Rhonda are, to borrow a phrase, fucking amazing) as the big ensemble numbers”

(Neutze, 2017, para 8.).

A four-star review in the Guardian read:

In a production where Abba numbers could have easily drowned out any original score

and lyrics, Keir Nuttall and Kate Miller-Heidke have proved themselves more than a

match for their Nordic counterparts…the duo has produced songs that are irresistibly

catchy and, at times, memorably affecting. (Sebag-Montefiore, 2017, para 8.)

A reviewer in Limelight magazine wrote that “the score is fantastic across the board, with characters given vividly painted musical voices” (McPherson, 2017, para 6.), and Jason

Blake in his four-star Sydney Morning Herald review noted the piece as having a

“conspicuously inventive score” (Blake, 2017, para. 3). The industry itself has also received the musical positively: it won seven Sydney Theatre Awards, including Best Original Score of a Mainstage Production (Sydney Theatre Awards, 2017) and won five Helpmann Awards, including Best Original Score (Helpmann Awards, 2018). In August 2018, PJ Hogan, Kate and I, alongside the ABBA lyric-writing team, won the David Williamson Award for

Excellence in Writing in the Australian Writers’ Guild 51st AWGIE Awards.

Figure 13. The Creative Team with Maggie McKenna (centre) at the show’s publicity launch.

Note. Photo: Sydney Theatre Company.

Part Two: Analysing Three Songs

Figure 14. Persona-centred songwriting process for analysis of creative work.

Note. Diagram: Keir Nuttall.

Introduction

This investigation theorises an applied model of a persona-centred songwriting process and applies it in the realm of musical theatre. Applying the songwriting model, I have theorised involves trying to solidify processes that are dynamic in nature and happen in a non-temporal fashion. When tacit practitioner knowledge (know-how) is teased out using existing structures

of knowledge (know-that) by reflection in action (know-what), the resultant knowledge will necessarily contain paradoxes, overlaps, and parallel meanings (Nelson, 2006; Schön 1983).

In the following section, I analyse three of the 21 original songs I composed with Kate

Miller-Heidke for Muriel’s Wedding the Musical. I chose these three because they highlight different aspects of both process and schema, providing evidence and triangulation of the way my applied model functions. The three different songs tell three different stories of how the songwriting model and persona function within different contexts. “The Bouquet” is a solo piece sung by a young adult female; “Progress” is a full-cast song centred around a middle-aged man, and “Never Stick Your Neck Out” features a young male soloist, a co-star, and a male-only ensemble. Also differing within these three songs is the portion of writing undertaken by my collaborator and me.

Since 2007, Kate and I have followed a 50/50 division of copyright in songs we work on together, regardless of the division of labour on specific songs. As I detail in the following section, Kate had the most creative input on “The Bouquet” and the least on “Never Stick

Your Neck Out,” with “Progress” sitting somewhere in between. My portion of the songwriting of all the songs on MWTM was written using my persona-centred songwriting, and my model incorporates the input of a collaborator as part of its schema. In referring to songwriting I am not referring to the composing of musical manuscript. Kate and I work “by ear,” even when arranging (I do this by multitrack recording). The three songs covered in this chapter began as lyrical ideas, but that is not to say the approach to writing is literary in character. Just as Langer (1953 asserts that words in a musical setting become subsumed by music, and become “musical elements” (p. 151), our lyrics inform, and are informed by, emergent melodies and phrasing. It is not always as clear as a lyric being written and then filled with a melody. In some cases, a melody and lyric arrive simultaneously. In other cases,

melodies were kept in place with holding lyrics—temporary words or nonsensical collections

of syllables—until the lyric was complete.

The analysis of each song is undertaken in two parts. Firstly, I explore the songwriting process informed by my applied model persona-centred songwriting. Secondly, I analyse how each piece functions within Auslander’s (2004b) model of music performance, as adapted to apply to songwriting as performance. The songwriting analysis of the first song, “The

Bouquet,” takes the form of a narrative, providing further background to the processes of the

practical work. The analysis of “Progress” and “Never Stick Your Neck Out” is undertaken in

a more direct style.

Throughout I refer to demo recordings, voice memos, and the full-cast recordings of the final arrangements. Audio files of these are available at: https://www.keirnuttall.com/blog

There are hyperlinks throughout the text below where the reader can play and listen to the

relevant audio or jump to lyrics in the appendix.

Figure 15. Muriel (Maggie McKenna) performing “Here Comes the Bride.”

Note. Photo: Sydney Theatre Company.

Song One: “The Bouquet”

“The Bouquet” sits squarely within the standard formula of the musical theatre genre. It

functions as the genre’s conventional “I wish” song. The show’s central character, Muriel,

outlines the narrative question that informs who she is and communicates what her journey

may be. Of the three songs analysed, the final version of “The Bouquet” was the one most informed by my primary collaborator, Kate. It was among the songs in the show that required the least rewrites, changing little from its first draft to the final opening night version.

First Iteration: February 2016

In February 2016 we have our first workshop with the core creative team: Simon Phillips

(director), PJ Hogan (book), Kate Miller-Heidke (music and lyrics), and me (music and lyrics). Also present is Carmen Pavlovic, the show’s producer and the CEO of the production

company Global Creatures. We read and discuss the latest draft of the script. The first thing

discussed is the opening song.

PERSONA

Muriel Heslop is the central character of the whole show. She is an inarticulate, eccentric,

young woman of 21. She lives in Porpoise Spit, a parochial coastal town where conformity

and physical appearance are of paramount importance. She is unpopular, with mean friends

who barely tolerate her, a horrid domineering father, and dysfunctional brothers and sisters.

Muriel uses the idea of a wedding as an escapist and ambitious dream. She has a painful life as an outcast. If she could find a handsome man to marry her, in her mind it would solve all of her problems. It doesn’t matter who the groom is or what he is like. His substance as a person is secondary to his role as her groom. What is important is the marriage. I can relate to

Muriel’s fantasy. I lived, like her character, in a regional town. Instead of becoming obsessed with the fantasy of a wedding, I was obsessed with the idea of becoming a rock star. I was convinced that all of my fears and insecurities would be fixed as soon as I “made it,” which would validate me in the way Muriel’s status as a bride would validate her.

PJ warns us that Muriel is an elusive character to pin down. He explains that one reason he cast Toni Collette in the role of the film Muriel was because she understood the character immediately and was able to embody her when so many others couldn’t. Even though Muriel is vulnerable and outcast, she is not a wimp. She doesn’t generally feel sorry for herself. She is a fighter. She is an optimist and a dreamer. She is also inarticulate. She has to sing her innermost thoughts and feelings, but she cannot articulate them too well or she will seem to be a different person in song to the one she is in action. These sorts of persona markers are really useful.

RESEARCH

As “The Bouquet” is among the first songs we write for Muriel’s Wedding the Musical, it

emerges during an intense period of research, or domain acquisition (Csikszentmihalyi,

2014b). My guide in the beginning is Woolford’s (2012) How Musicals Work: And How to

Write Your Own in preparation for working on MWTM. Woolford explains, “The ‘I wish’

song is about who the hero is and what he wants…the ‘I wish’ song can occur at any point in

act one” (p. 180). This is an example of Auslander’s (2014b) frame of “musical genre

conventions” informing the creation of work (p. 11).

In the film, Muriel’s Wedding, Muriel’s character doesn’t actually say much. She mumbles and pulls faces. This presents its own opportunity and its own problem for a musical version of her character. The musical has an advantage over other forms, as you have licence in song

for a character to sing their innermost hopes, desires, and emotions. It functions as a soliloquy does in Shakespeare. There is an opportunity in the musical for the audience to see inside Muriel’s head in a way that they perhaps couldn’t in the film.

We discuss how the groom is a handsome prop, or the archetypal “Prince Charming.” PJ talks about how, in Porpoise Spit, the life pattern for a girl is to grow up, be popular in high school, and then peak on her wedding day. PJ mentions that the cliché, “The Happiest Day of My

Life,” is no exaggeration for the kind of people who live in Porpoise Spit.

PJ and Simon discuss the fact that the character of Muriel treads a fine line in regard to retaining the audience’s sympathy. She does horrible things to all those least deserving of it— her friend Rhonda, and her mother, Betty Heslop. Betty is innocent, a victim of a mean, unfaithful husband and neglectful children. Rhonda has spinal cancer, is in a wheelchair, and

Muriel abandons her. The “I wish” song sets up the audience’s relationship with Muriel and

establishes their emotional connection with her.

In PJ’s script, wherever a song occurs, he has picked an existing song (musical theatre or

otherwise) and written his own lyrics to it, to illustrate how the song functions, and what its

mood and intention is. He doesn’t intend for us to use his lyrics, nor does he want the

reference songs to inform the actual music. These reference songs in PJ’s script perform the

function of helping everyone in the team understand where songs will fit narratively.

At some point in the week-long workshop, while rereading the first act, the suggestion is made that rather than opening the show with the “I wish” song, it should be shifted to take place in a scene in which Muriel catches the wedding bouquet at the wedding of Tania

Heslop, her mean friend. As the song will now come straight out of a scene where Muriel has been mocked, it will need to become a song of defiance as much as a song of yearning, to illustrate that despite being bullied, she is hopeful. When Muriel’s “I wish” song was the

opening number it was intended to be a large production number typical of a commercial

musical. Now it sits within a fast-paced section of narrative exposition, and Simon asserts the

need for the song to be more like a brief moment we spend with Muriel’s inner thoughts, rather than a big piece of character exposition. My reflection is as follows:

Muriel’s Wedding song? (“When he marries me, I won’t be me anymore”) – this is just

a bubble. Not a long song.

I want to be swept away. Until there’s nothing left.

“The Bouquet” is a promise. She caught it – no-one else!

End – And on my wedding day, when it’s my turn to throw “The Bouquet” – I’ll throw

it to a girl who’s just like me…a girl that no-one sees…

(extract from journal, February 2016)

COLLABORATOR

Carmen Pavlovic, the producer, was present for many of the creative workshops. Financial

considerations shaped the very fabric of “The Bouquet”. Initially, PJ had a huge production number as Muriel’s ‘I wish’ number, with moving cut-out sets of famous husbands and wives of history, climaxing in the character of Tania flying onto the stage in a harness in full bridal regalia. Early on in the process Carmen had flagged this as being financially a stretch too far and this was certainly a factor in the early discussions that led us to shifting where the song occurred in the narrative. This in turn affected the function of the song, and what might have been an up-tempo full-chorus number became a soft and gentle ballad. Carmen was also a strong advocate for casting Maggie McKenna in the role of Muriel, and Maggie’s persona became entwined with the song. This illustrates the element of “music industry input” in

Auslander’s (2004b) model of performance analysis (p. 11).

As I write the “scratchpad” lyrics (“Imagine My Joy”), I am picturing at least three audiences: my long-term collaborator Kate, whose tastes I can somewhat anticipate; the larger creative team, whose expectations for this song were defined in the workshop; and the audiences, who will ultimately see the song performed. The three audiences have different but overlapping sets of expectations. These expectations all inform which elements of the lyric I am writing are used and which are discarded. The “Kate” audience and the “creative team” audience are both what Goffman (1959) would call “backstage”—they are privy to technical knowledge—and awareness of this cannot help but shape the movement of the ideas

I generate. They also function as gatekeepers, or the “field” as in Csikszentmihalyi’s systems model of creativity (2004b).

GENERATE

My writing approach for “The Bouquet” is the same as it would be when I write for Kate’s

persona: I look for areas of commonality between my everyday identity and the performance

persona. In this case it is the character and narrative that I begin with. I can relate to the

feeling of being young, living in a regional area, and longing to find an escape. In my case it was a career as a rock star that I imagined was my destiny, while in Muriel’s case it is a wedding.

I generate what I call a scratch lyric for the ‘I wish’ song. A scratch lyric is an early lyric draft with no self-editing, slightly less developed than a first draft but more developed than a

brainstorm. The intention here is to keep as many opportunities as possible open for associations and more ideas to occur (expansion). Sometimes a scratch lyric will have a section with a developed sense of metre and form, but I don’t force it into any particular shape. Additionally, if rhymes occur to me, I will list them. A scratch lyric might have multiple metres and no rhymes. I include any phrases or images I can think of randomly throughout. If I am working alone, the scratch lyric is rested when continuing its writing starts to feel forced. At this point, if I am working with a collaborator, I will send it to them.

The understanding is that they can pursue it, react to it, or ignore it, all with impunity.

RETRIEVE

Creating the scratch lyric involves me generating the fresh ideas, but also retrieving any lines

I can find in my lyric archive that seem pertinent, or that I feel instinctively may be related.

While looking back through my archive I am looking for anything that strikes me as having

“Murielness” about it.

100

I remember a band name my brother had suggested to me once: “Imagine My Joy”. I think that “Imagine My Joy” seems like a good title for the ‘I wish” song. It seems exactly like something Muriel would say to herself in a dreamy moment reflecting on her wedding. I use the title as a starting point for writing lyrics.

CRAFT

In the first iteration of this song, I am not writing music but lyrics. I talk the lyrics back to

myself rather than singing and playing them. I do this to test how the diction works, and if

they have “singability”.

With my title retrieved I work though crafting the lyric, bouncing between play and editing,

while resting periodically, putting the lyric away and working on something else.

I finalise a scratch lyric of “Imagine My Joy” and send it to Kate.

In writing her first musical draft of the piece, Kate uses none of these lyrics, so they are archived. Later, some of the lines are retrieved and used for a song in act two, “Here Comes the Bride”, which is set in a bridal store where Muriel is trying on dresses as a form of escapism.

Second Iteration: February 2016

COLLABORATOR

Kate comes up with an idea called “Someone Is.” It will form the basis of the song called

“The Bouquet”. In many instances in the Muriel process Kate or I will have lyrics that are missing pieces, where we just put in meaningless syllables when we sing it; the other one will

go away and fill in the words. The voice memo of “Someone Is” is one such example.

101

CRAFT

Kate sits at the piano and we go backwards and forwards to work on the chorus, pulling the piece into shape. We play, edit, listen. Listening carries with it a sense of “zooming out” with a deliberately neutral mindset (rather than an expansive or contractive one). Rest occurs when we start to feel we are in a temporary rut, so we stop and chat about something else, or make a cup of tea. When I am working alone, I listen back to my own recording of me performing a piece while working on it. In this case it is Kate playing and me listening. In the writing of this song, Kate and I are both in a flow state, the “merging of action and awareness”

(Csikszentmihalyi, 2014a, p. 136).

PERSONA

Kate’s own musical persona comes into play when she records her first draft demo of

“Someone Is” (later to become “The Bouquet”). When singing the song, she invokes the character of Muriel. It is the perfect example of the merging of identity and persona as in

Auslander’s (2004b) model. The style of the phrasing is dictated by the frame of Kate’s rock/pop music training (Auslander, 2004b), as well as her understanding of the musical theatre genre “domain” (Csikszentmihalyi, 2014b).

What I really like about Kate’s lyric is the way the “someone” shows that Muriel doesn’t care about who the groom is; it also feels like something inarticulate that Muriel might say.

Persona informs a lyric that I add: “We always knew she’d be someone, we always knew she’d be someone, someone could love.” It has an amusing play on Muriel’s grasping for words and the repetition has a prayer-like quality. It also adds a third element, the idea that once she gets married, Muriel will really “be someone.”

102

When I am generating lyrics as we play, I am reacting to Kate’s work and immersed in

Muriel’s persona. When flow occurs as it does in this writing session, the immersion in the

persona becomes completely unselfconscious. I am unaware that I am moving between being

myself and being Muriel, offering improvised phrases as Muriel. I am moving along the

continuum Goffman (1959) described, from being outside of immersion in a persona,

knowingly manipulating its characteristics, and being completely immersed in a persona.

This liminal state of being myself and the character is part of the way persona functions as

process, as in Auslander (2004b).

Third Iteration: April 2016

We have agreed to have the first round of demos in by the end of the second week of April

2016, in time for our second core creative team workshop. At this point we are using simple

instrumentation and I am staying out of the way of the arrangements. In our rock/pop work I

usually create quite detailed arrangements as part of my writing process. In this case the

musical director is expected to be doing complete arrangements of the pieces. The only additions I make when constructing the demo is to select some harp-like sounds and add a

“pad” synth that suggests that it might be a song that uses strings. We changed the feel of the piece, agreeing that an arpeggiated, harp-like figure sounds more bridal and dreamier than the rhythmic figure Kate originally had.

We send in the demos to seven songs on April 13, among them “The Bouquet Demo.” For

the second workshop the core creative team are joined by a group of four actors who will be

reading the script and singing our songs. Also present is the musical director, Iain Grandage.

“THE BOUQUET” (Muriel)

Someone is

103

Gonna wanna marry me someday - I know it

Someone is

Gonna come and sweep me all away - I know it

They’re wrong about me

And I’ll show them all

When they see

That he’s 6 foot tall and ripped

(Not ripped open - I just mean, heaps of muscles!)

Someone is

Gonna really notice me someday - I know it

Someone is gonna come and sweep me all away

And they’ll all have to watch

With a painted-on smile

When it’s me coming down the aisle

And I’ll say

“Don’t you guys remember? I caught the bouquet!”

(Kate Miller-Heidke/Keir Nuttall “The Bouquet Demo” lyrics 13/04/16)

104

PERSONA

Throughout the process of writing MWTM, when making demo recordings I sing the male

characters and Kate sings the female characters. Going into this second workshop, Kate and I

are confronted by the tension between her musical persona and Muriel’s persona. In Kate’s

email presenting our demos to the creative team, Kate clarifies that her voice sits in a

different domain to the one for which we are writing.

*Obviously this is me singing this please try to block that out and just imagine the

characters (if you can!) When I hold a note that’s relatively high and long, please

imagine that’s being sung with a thrilling music theatre belt. My pop voice has only a

fraction of the kind of power we are going to be looking for from the real singers.

With Muriel’s voice I've been finding it useful to think about Ellen Greene in Little

Shop of Horrors - that real vulnerability with moments of powerful soulfulness.

(Extract of Kate Miller-Heidke’s email accompanying demos to creative team

13/04/16)

The actor Lucy Maunder plays the role of Muriel in this reading. Seeing her sing the song for the first time is quite exciting. It’s also a relief. I later realise I had been concerned that somehow the piece wasn’t “musical theatre” enough, but hearing Lucy perform it makes it

sound like credible music theatre to my ear. Her musical persona operates within the domain

of musical theatre. "The Bouquet" seems to fit quite effortlessly into the narrative flow and is accepted by the team into the script.

105

During this time there are auditions for the role of Muriel in the actual production. Each

auditionee must perform “The Bouquet”. Seeing multiple performers, it is striking how much the singer's reading of persona affects the material. I had thought the themes of defiance and optimism were baked into the text. They were not. While some performers interpreted the song as we had intended, others approached it as a song of frustration or self-pity.

With each different actor auditioning or workshopping the role of Muriel comes a different habitus informing the song. Each individual’s personal appearance and the tone of their voice, plus its relation to the key signature, change the nature of the song. Their own personal backgrounds and experience dictate not only their physical mannerisms but also the choices they make on how to dramatically deliver the lyrics.

The other really noticeable thing is that the kind of musical phrasing that Kate and I take for granted (rock/pop phrasing) is a long way from the phrasing and diction that people from the domain of musical theatre possess. Kate, Isaac, and I discuss how we have to be very careful that we take this into account in our writing and be careful about who we accept into the role.

Our songs rely on being phrased in a pop manner. Without that, they won’t work, or at the very least, won’t be as effective.

The song is edited with each performer’s musical persona, as it changes the substance of the piece—which components of the lyric and music are highlighted, which are rejected, and

which are completely generated.

COLLABORATOR

When Kate and I send off the demo of the track to the creative team, we are performing as

songwriters to our other collaborators, risking their rejection as a performer risks rejection in

front of an audience. Kate is literally performing as Muriel on the recording. As we have

106

been writing the song, our initial audience and our collaborators exist in our minds. Their

expectations inform the creative choices we are making.

Fourth Iteration: January 2017

“The Bouquet” has remained the same throughout a third workshop in May 2016, with Lucy

Maunder playing Muriel. In January 2017 we undertake the biggest workshop so far. It runs

for two weeks and culminates in a closed performance to industry associates of the show and

cast. Maggie McKenna auditioned for the role of Muriel in 2016 and is on a shortlist.

Including her in this big workshop with many of the final cast members is a way of

auditioning her for the role as a whole.

PERSONA

Kate, Isaac, and I particularly like Maggie as she is familiar with the stylistic characteristics of rock/pop. As a result, there is a return to many stylistic characteristics of the song that were absent when other performers not conversant in the language of rock/pop performed it.

Therefore, these elements of Kate’s habitus and my own are lost for a year, but return to the song when Maggie performs it. When Maggie McKenna finally performs as Muriel, in costume, the experience of watching the song seems completely seamless, as if this Muriel had composed it herself.

Fifth Iteration: November 2017

Maggie has secured the role of Muriel for the show’s first season. In the lead-up to the opening night we have been having previews. We sit in the audience, in different positions night after night, and make notes, trying to judge as best we can how effective the songs are in the context of the show before a live audience. Every department has reams of notes they’ve taken on what needs to be fixed, but time is finite. After keeping things fluid for as long as possible, Simon finally must insist the show is frozen and no more changes to the

107

script or score can take place. There are many notes and adjustments to other songs but “The

Bouquet” continues being its functional self. Auslander (2004b) observes that audiences collaborate in part with performers by means of expression including costume; numerous audience members every night come dressed as Muriel Heslop from the film.

Watching Maggie McKenna perform “The Bouquet” [link to audio] as Muriel with full

production to a live audience, I am struck by the illusion of theatre. This is the resonance

between audience, song, and persona in action. I sit in the audience, moved by my own

songwriting because of the distance between what I have worked on and what I am seeing in

the theatre as an audience member. The song seems to exist completely within the universe of

Porpoise Spit, and the musical persona seems completely congruous with the setting

presented.

All of the everyday identities of our creative team have informed the elements of the song.

Simon Phillips’s knowledge of musical theatre and PJ Hogan’s initial creation of narrative

and character are both present within the song. Isaac Hayward’s sensibilities as a musician

and arranger informed the final arrangement of the piece. His internalised knowledge of both

the domains of rock/pop and musical theatre ultimately inhabit the final version of the song.

108

Figure 16. The team confers.

Photo: Hon Boey.

Song Two: “Progress”

While “The Bouquet” was a straightforward song sung by one person, “Progress” was one of

the most narratively complex songs in the show. This was reflected by the number of rewrites

and drafts the song underwent before arriving at the form it took on opening night. This

stress-tested the application of my songwriting model (and my wellbeing). Of all the songs,

the process of writing “Progress” was the least like writing for the genre of rock/pop, in that

it involved much prescriptive input from the collaborative team.

First Iteration: March 2016

In the January 2016 draft of PJ Hogan’s script, PJ had used rock/pop group Sailor’s 1975

song “A Glass of Champagne” as a placeholder, to illustrate how the song would function in the larger body of the narrative. The song needed to centre around Muriel’s father, Bill

Heslop, and must establish Bill’s character to the audience. The other characters in the scene

109

are the rest of the Heslop family (Bill’s wife Betty, and their children Muriel, Perry,

Malcolm, and Joanie), two Japanese businessmen, Charlie Chan, the owner of the restaurant where the scene takes place, and Deidre Chambers, a local businesswoman. The scene must

establish that Bill is a dreamer, and a charming businessman. He is attempting to woo the two

Japanese businessmen into developing a resort in Porpoise Spit. Bill also is shown as a bully

to his family, particularly Muriel, whom he belittles in front of the businessmen. Bill is a

narcissist, and this needs to be established here too. This scene is the first time the audience

meets Deidre Chambers, with whom Bill is having an affair, alluded to in a previous scene,

but needing to be reinforced for narrative clarity. Also, during this scene, Deidre offers

Muriel a job at Radiant Cosmetics, to set up a later scene where Muriel steals money from

her parents. The scene balances humour with darkness and the song needs to follow suit.

Bill’s dream – here’s what spawned Muriel. He’s delusional too.

How to work the system

That’s his philosophy. He’s a philosopher!

Vegas-style showtunes, via Twin Towns/Leagues Club

Celebratory, fun.

Useless kids – your family will always let you down.

(Excerpt from my journal, notes from workshop February 2016.)

PERSONA

Ambition and thinking big are driving forces of the character Bill, and we are aware from the

beginning that these will need to be features illustrated in the song. Muriel’s propensity to

110 dream and to want to make something of herself comes from her father. She is both terrified by, and worships Bill. Muriel at the beginning of the show is a pathological liar, and Bill is shown to be a pathological liar. In many ways, Bill is the underlying psychological force for

Muriel’s behaviour throughout the show.

I grew up in regional Queensland, and I understand the way a character like Bill behaves.

Many authority figures of my youth, including the town mayor, had a certain cadence in their speech, a set of values, and expectations that made writing in Bill’s voice something quite natural for me. My part in writing the song “Progress” came with an internalised knowledge of social and cultural expectations and conventions surrounding a character like Bill. This is part of my habitus, my internalised knowledge of the specific social and cultural conventions in which the character of Bill’s persona might emerge (Bourdieu, 1977). While I certainly am not as assertive or as mean as Bill, there are aspects of his character that are consonant with my everyday identity. Two in particular are my propensity for ambition, and my need to be liked by strangers. By hiding and revealing different aspects of my everyday identity in the creative choices made in the writing of the song, I am echoing the “impression management” dynamic in Goffman’s schema (1959, p. 34).

As “Progress” is centred on the character Bill, we talk a lot about PJ Hogan’s father, upon whom the character is loosely based. PJ’s father was a local politician, Bill the battler is the mayor of Porpoise Spit. The persona that will emerge of Bill contains the everyday identity of PJ’s father, via PJ’s lived experience. The actor Bill Hunter, who played Bill Heslop in the film of Muriel’s Wedding, is a constant presence in my mind throughout the writing process.

Kate and I discuss the fact that each character’s music will be informed by the kind of music they would listen to. For Bill we decide to have a song that wouldn’t be out of place being played by a Frank Sinatra tribute band at Twin Towns Casino in Tweed Heads. We think Bill

111

would probably like Frank Sinatra, and it is useful given the organised crime undertones— later in the script Bill gets charged with corruption relating to the deal he is making in the

“Progress” scene with the two Japanese businessmen. We are using the frame of music genre conventions mindfully to help shape a persona, as within Auslander’s (2004b) model.

COLLABORATOR

Director Simon Phillips asserts that at this point in the overall show, it really feels like we

should have a big musical production number. Simon’s direction involves having a sense,

structurally, of when music is needed, and often what kind of song that should be. So, the fact

that this would be a big production, rather than a smaller scale piece informs the writing

process from the outset. The scene that PJ writes for Bill is consonant with this, a big

production piece with dancers dressed as pokie machines and giant pieces of fruit. PJ’s

placeholder lyrics speak of Bill’s love for making a deal and having huge ambitions.

Bombastic, dream-big philosophy is key here, because it influences Muriel and leads her to

be ambitious. Simon Phillips’s internalised domain knowledge (Csikszentmihalyi, 2014b)

influences the creative choices, in turn informing the very fabric of the song.

RESEARCH

We watched this scene in the movie many times to establish how the characters interacted

and to further internalise the character of Bill. Bill’s persona in this sense is informed by

Auslander’s (2006a) notion of mediatised performance. It became clear that this scene,

coupled with the scene that follows, where Muriel's friends all reject her, is the inciting incident that sets Muriel on the trajectory her narrative takes. After reaching her nadir in act

two, Muriel’s character laments, “I thought I was so different. A new person. But I'm not. I'm

just the same as him” (Hogan, 2017, p. 67).

112

I first approach the song as if it were a political speech. Bill would see himself as a great leader, equal to the great leaders of history. For research my first point of call is Winston

Churchill, as I know he is a hero to many aspiring alpha-male politicians. I read or listen to speeches by Abraham Lincoln, John F Kennedy, Mahatma Gandhi, and Martin Luther King

Jr. I think King’s “I Have a Dream” speech would be a humorous choice, being such a beautiful, humanist work of strength, morality, and high ideals. It would be ironic to hear Bill co-opt it and use it to describe his garish dream of developments and casinos.

Research also includes watching big production numbers from several musicals to get a feel for the kind of aesthetic and energy they have. Lionel Bart’s song “You’ve Got to Pick a

Pocket or Two” from the musical Oliver! forms a key reference.

GENERATE

I begin to write lines that start with “I have a dream.” As I improvise, I use not my own voice, but a gruff one, thinking of the actor Bill Hunter’s performance persona.

CRAFT

Once I have some brainstormed ideas I sit and work them into a more distinct form.

I have a dream of high rises, as far as the eye rises

I have a dream of resorts and malls

I have a dream of a town hall where money falls like water

I have a dream of growth

Not old growth but new

113

I’m growing…I’m swelling….O gawd! GROWTH!

(from “You Can’t Stop Progress” draft.)

I abandon this idea as I become annoyed with it. This is a regular occurrence in my working

process, and I am aware that I might just need to rest it for a while before retrieving it to see

if it regains its (subjective) vitality or if it is no longer worth pursuing. I archive the lyric and move on.

RETRIEVE

I retrieve a line I had previously archived, very early in our work on MWTM, which is

“You’ve gotta have a purpose, whether it’s Porpoise Spit or Surfers.”

I also remember (retrieve) that once Kate and I had performed at a corporate function for a

club whose membership was exclusively CEOs under the age of 50. Many of them I spoke to

had remarked that there is no such thing as luck—you make your own luck; this is something

I have heard many successful businesspeople say. It seemed like something that Bill Heslop

would believe.

GENERATE(a)/ CRAFT(a)

I improvise around the two ideas retrieved and massage them into what might function as a

chorus lyric:

you’ve got to have a purpose

whether it’s Porpoise Spit or Surfers

there’s a little bit of Vegas

114

in all of us

it’s nothing to do with fate

it’s nothing to do with luck

don’t you think the body politic could use a nip and tuck?

(Excerpt from “Bill’s Song Draft,” 22 March 2016, see appendix)

COLLABORATOR(a)

I combine the two ideas I have had and send them to Kate.

Kate emails back suggesting:

I think some good key words would be ‘funny’ and ‘simple’ – if there’s any of

it you can make more funny or more simple, that would be something to think

about...also the title + main chorus lyric being ‘You Can’t Stop Progress’.

(excerpt from Kate Miller-Heidke email, 22 March 2016.)

I take on Kate’s criticism, noting how the version I have given does sound a bit complex for

Bill’s character.

CRAFT(b)

I decide to alter my course, resting into the archive what I have already written and starting

again.

115

RETRIEVE(a)

I return to the idea of the political speech, thinking it might provide more opportunity for

humour.

PERSONA(a)

It occurs to me that Bill, while he may have once heard Martin Luther King Jr’s speech,

would not necessarily be moved enough by King to co-opt it. There is also the matter of his racism. Like President Donald Trump (whom PJ Hogan has many times cited as an influence for the updated theatrical version of Bill’s character), Bill would probably prefer TV and

movies as a source of inspiration.

RESEARCH

I comb through movie clips on YouTube, imagining the type of films Bill Heslop might

enjoy. I find a brief monologue Kevin Costner makes in the film Bull Durham, in which he

repeats the phrase “I believe in…” (Movieclips, 2015, 1:18). It seems like just the kind of

thing Bill would find inspiring—not too intellectually challenging, an appeal to emotion and

old-school alpha-male values.

GENERATE(b)/ CRAFT(b)

Beginning with the phrase “I believe,” I improvise lines in the voice of Bill Hunter. I craft

these until I have a verse that sits in a solid metre and seems to lend itself to “singing well.” I

have no music or melody, but by saying lyrics aloud I can get a sense of whether they will

sing well or not. To incorporate Kate’s note about having more humour, I decide the verses

should follow a structure in which Bill sings the high-minded ideal “I believe in” and then immediately undermines it with his true corrupt intention as an unscrupulous politician.

116

I believe in honesty

You should always appear to have some

I believe in family

Voters love it if you have one

Even if it’s a family...like this one

It’s all part of the process

You can’t stop progress

I believe in conversation

I could talk about myself for days

I believe in conservation

I make sure my green fees are always paid

At the golf course where I play

It’s all part of the process

(Excerpt from “Bill’s Song Scratch 2”, 23 March 2016)

RETRIEVE(b)/ CRAFT(c)

I retrieve from the archive the first chorus idea I had. I also retrieve Kate’s suggestion that

“You Can’t Stop Progress” be the title and main chorus lyric.

117

You’ve got to have a purpose

whether it’s Porpoise Spit or Surfers

there’s a little bit of Vegas

in all of us

so that’s what I give ’em

I turn red tape into ribbons

it’s all part of the process

YOU CAN’T STOP PROGRESS

(Excerpt from “Bill’s Song Scratch 2”, 23 March 2016)

I send all these lyrics back to Kate.

CRAFT(d)

In the meantime, I have written three melodic sketches to the lyrics. The first is a Beatles- style piano-based song (“Keir’s First Idea”). After working on it I decide it is too buoyant- sounding for the requirements of the scene, so I archive it.

RETRIEVE(c)/GENERATE(c)/CRAFT(e)

The second idea comes about when I retrieve an old melody generated in 2013 from the archive called “Hiawatha”. I think is quite strong and may make a good chorus if I were to write lyrics to it. I then work backwards from this melody, and using my lyrics write a verse that would suit the pre-existing chorus (play, edit, listen, rest) (“Bill Tune – Keir’s Second

118

Idea”). Finally, I pick up on a line in the verse that I improvised (generate), “I get it done.” I

think this may make a useful line to set up the chorus, if it were extended. I play with the

idea, with the intention of manipulating the chords around it. The result is (I feel) a

harmonically interesting pre-chorus, where “I get it done” is repeated many times (“Keir pre-

chorus idea”).

COLLABORATOR(b)

Kate responds positively to this second draft of lyrics. She writes a melody to the lyrics and

sends back a voice memo (“Kate’s first voice memo”).

CRAFT(f)

When Kate’s voice memo comes through, I rest my melodic ideas and archive them. Often, if

Kate sends through an idea I feel is strong, I do not show her my idea, and put into the archive instead. The exception to this is if our two ideas have a similar feel and might be merged.

The “I get it done” line from “Keir pre-chorus idea” will be retrieved 18 months later, and

this lyric forms the punchline for every verse in the final version of “Progress”.

RESEARCH (a)

Kate suggests that her idea would sound good given a feel like the Elvis song “Viva Las

Vegas.” I am vaguely familiar with this song, so I listen to it carefully.

119

CRAFT(g)

I craft an “arranged demo,” with bongos and a bass line reminiscent of “Viva Las Vegas.”

Kate and I submit our arranged demo to the creative team before the second workshop on

April 15.

PERSONA(b)

The April 15 workshop has four actors and the core creative team, plus Iain Grandage, the musical director. During this workshop, actor Bert LaBonté has the role of Bill.

RETRIEVE(d)/ CRAFT(f)

With Bill as played by Bert LaBonté fresh in my mind I retrieve the most recent draft and

start crafting to refine it. The song now contains elements from several earlier drafts. Some of

them have completely different melodies, for example, “The past is an unwiped arse, the

future a champagne glass,” originally written for a different melody in “Keir’s Voice Memo

2,” is now repurposed as the hymnal section in this version (retrieve). The new version of the

song (“You Can’t Stop Progress – Arranged Demo 2”) now follows the structure in which

Bill sings alone for verse one, while Deidre joins him for verse two, doing the punchlines

following his set-ups:

BILL: I believe, I believe in conversation

DEIDRE: He could talk about himself for days

(“You Can’t Stop Progress”, 20 April 2016)

This version is emailed to the creative team in late April. Iain Grandage is unable to continue

working in the role as producer/arranger, and Isaac Hayward joins the team.

120

Figure 17. Music Director Isaac Hayward Runs Vocal Rehearsals.

Note. Photo: Hon Boey.

121

Figure 18. Isaac Hayward Conducts the First Band Rehearsal.

Note. Photo: Keir Nuttall.

PERSONA(d)

The role of Bill is played by Robert Grubb in the third workshop at Sydney Theatre

Company. This time there are 20 actors and five days of intensive rehearsal and rewriting, culminating in a run-through in front of a live audience of staff, producers, and trusted friends. Lines change sequence as Robert feels certain ways of phrasing seem to him a more honest approach than others, and we update the lyrics in accordance with this.

COLLABORATOR(c)

At the end of the workshop, the core team discuss how the song is sitting in the narrative. The

scene and song as they stand at this point feature a long segment of expositional dialogue,

which is very similar to the same scene in the film, followed by our song. The chief challenge

illuminated is that the scene is serving two main emotional purposes—to give Bill a chance to

espouse his philosophy, and to show him humiliating his children—and that when viewed

122

with an audience this entire sequence seems to be running for too long. At the moment we

have the song covering Bill’s philosophy and the dialogue covering the bullying.

Simon says that the more dialogue we are able to absorb into the song the better, as it is not

until the music starts that we can leave the reality of the spoken-dialogue world behind and

enter the more heightened reality of musical theatre. At the same time, we are all mindful of

the legacy of the film Muriel’s Wedding, in which this scene’s dialogue is a favourite among

fans. This illustrates how fans’ internalised knowledge of the material acts in collaboration

with the creative material, similar to the way audience and performers interact in Auslander’s

schema (2004b).

Second Iteration: May 2016

RETRIEVE/ CRAFT

I revisit the archive and find my version of the song with the melody from 2013

(“Hiawatha”). Previously I had only written a verse to this song, but now replace my initial

“Hiawatha” chorus lyrics with chorus lyrics for “You Can’t Stop Progress.”

drawn in by your own reflection

this wind’s in the wrong direction

say who's in the right

hiawa - hiawa- Hiawatha

(“Hiawatha,” 2013)

123

it’s a service that I give ’em

I turn red tape into ribbon

Say what you want

You can’t stop progress

(“Progress” – Keir’s version May 4, 2016)

COLLABORATOR

I record and send a sketch of (“Progress” – Keir’s version May 4, 2016) to Kate, who rejects it on the ground that while it is melodically sound, it is probably no better at getting us out of our narrative quandary. I agree that the most appealing thing to me at this point is that it is new. I archive the idea and we retain what we already have.

Third Iteration: April 2016-February 2017

We work on other songs, and then during a three-day script development in November, the

idea is floated that we might have two songs to cover both major themes across the scene:

“You Can’t Stop Progress” to communicate Bill’s philosophy and his affair with Deidre, and

a new song (iteration three) to communicate Bill’s tyranny over his family.

PERSONA

PJ has often said that a key to Bill’s bullying in this scene is that he does it so shamelessly in

front of strangers, complaining to them about how his horrid family have let him down, and

painting himself as a martyr, who has been hard done by in life by having such a terrible

family. I return to the original film scene, and to imagining Bill Hunter as Bill Heslop to

124

guide me in the approach. I generate some lines by imagining myself as Bill Hunter. I come

up with lyrics I think could be a chorus.

Look at this lot, look at this lot, look at ’em

This is what I got, this my lot, this lot

I’ve tried to the belt- I’ve tried to ground ’em

It grinds me down – a trial to be around ’em

You’d think just one of ’em woulda turned out fine

Between you and me, Victor, I sometimes wonder if these kids are mine

Ahh look at this lot, look at ’em, just look at ’em

(“Look at this Lot” – lyric idea April 2016)

After writing these lyrics they are archived for future use, while we turn our attention to other songs.

PERSONA(a)/ RETRIEVE(a)/ CRAFT(a)

During the January 2017 workshop, actor Hayden Spencer plays the role of Bill Heslop.

Hayden brings a terrifying presence to the role. Inspired by his work in the daily

experimentation, I am moved to revisit the “Look at this Lot” idea.

I craft the lyrics into a version that has stanzas, a structure, and a definite metre.

Meet my daughter Muriel

She’s 21 years old

125

She’s living on the dole

She sings into a hairbrush and considers that a goal

Considers that a goal

Mimes into a mirror and considers that a goal

(Excerpt from Look at this Lot, January 2017. See appendix.)

COLLABORATOR/GENERATE(b)/CRAFT(b)

I send the lyrics to Kate and, in breaks between the scene work, she musicalises them. We

come together to polish the piece. Kate has responded to the Gilbert and Sullivan-style metre

in the verses, and we craft the chorus (Kate on the piano and me on the guitar) into something

that is reminiscent of Queen’s “Bicycle Race” song. We record it, give it to Isaac who transcribes it, and we spend a day working on it with the cast.

After a day it is decided that the piece is not working; it is too jaunty and cheerful and doesn’t

capture Bill’s ferocity. I disagree with this because I think that with Hayden Spencer as the

performance persona it is easily made terrifying. Nonetheless, the idea of having two songs is

abandoned, and we continue in the workshop with one song, “You Can’t Stop Progress.”

“Look at this Lot” is rested into the archive.

Fourth Iteration: January to November 2017

The January workshop culminates in a performance, after which we debrief. It is expressed

by some among the core team that “You Can’t Stop Progress” is lyrically wrong, because the

character of Bill would never be so self-aware. He would not consider himself to be corrupt,

126

rather he would consider he was doing good for people. We all agree that the song and scene

are too long, and still have structural problems integrating the dialogue and music. Kate and I

had deliberately chosen a musical style for each character that we felt suited them, however,

some among us make the critique that this song’s genre (after “Viva Las Vegas”) feels at odds with the rock/pop material in the rest of the score. Kate and I archive all prior iterations of the song and begin on iteration four.

COLLABORATOR

Over the following weeks, PJ has written several pages of new dialogue for the scene. The new scene is based on the premise that just as the Gold Coast has Dreamworld, Sea World, and Movie World, Porpoise Spit has several “worlds.” In the new dialogue Bill talks about how Porpoise Spit will be the world capital of “worlds,” and how he had found Muriel gainful employment in several of these “worlds”, but she had been fired from all of them.

This ties together Bill’s ambitious philosophy with his disappointment with Muriel. PJ’s idea is that there will be a scale model of the town of Porpoise Spit in the middle of the Chinese restaurant that Bill and the family will dance around as Bill shows the Japanese businessmen through the town.

Keep getting the note to shorten the song////how can we with all the exposition? Feels

like we’re trying to hang donkey flesh on dinosaur bones, there’s not enough to go

around.

(Journal extract, February 2017)

127

GENERATE/CRAFT/ COLLABORATOR(a)

My first attempt at the new song is a piece that is called Better World (Feb 28_2017). I feel

that a verse idea I have for this song has enough syllables to cover some more exposition. I make a quick recording of this idea, which sounds to me like a kind of punkish Midnight Oil- style song. Kate dislikes the melody, so I archive it. However, several ideas from “Better

World” will go on to be used in the final version, including the idea of having many syllables in the verse.

GENERATE/ RETRIEVE/CRAFT(a)

The next version of “Progress” emerges by improvising a guitar riff that sounds like an ’80s

pop song. I feel this might be more consonant with the pop style of the other pieces in the

show. I arrange this guitar part as a horn section line. This time, to try to be efficient with the

lyrics, I deliberately give the melody less of an arc and more syllables in each line. Often

lyrics are easier to understand on first listen if there is less melodic contour, hence rappers’ stylistic tendency to have plateauing melody. I decide to make each stanza of the song communicate a different idea. The first is introducing the scale model and pointing out Bill’s projects as mayor. Each line ends with “I got it done,” retrieved from the initial pre-chorus I had written in January 2016. The second verse is about Muriel and the other Heslop kids being failures, and the song’s bridge section is where Deidre joins in.

The bridge section comes from verses written for the “Better World” chorus in February

2017, featuring business jargon. The jargon will be cut to make the song shorter (archived),

but the second stanza (see below) will stay in the song from now until its completion,

retaining the ’50s rock feel that is a remnant of “Better World,” although differing in style

from the rest of the final version of “Progress.”

128

I futurate

I actuate

I aspirate engage and then scenariate,

I aim high

I do it large

Amazing what can happen

When a grown up is in charge

(Scratch lyric for progress, February 2017)

PERSONA

Gary Sweet is cast in the role of Bill Heslop. Gary Sweet is a fan of the Rolling Stones and

enjoys singing their music; his natural inclination to performing this song is to move his body

like Mick Jagger. I had been thinking that the chorus to “Progress” could be stronger, so now with Gary’s voice and movement and the Rolling Stones in mind I work on coming up with a new chorus.

GENERATE(b)/ COLLABORATOR /CRAFT(b)

I improvise a guitar riff that sounds like Keith Richards in style, and also a vocal hook that

fits around it. In the end, the riff itself will be removed (archive).

129

Kate creates a group backing vocal that acts as an additional hook. The chorus we had been

using since April 2016 is replaced with a new one, “Progress New Chorus (September

25_2017)”. The rest of the piece conforms to the version we’ve been using since April 2017.

This final version of “Progress” is the version that goes all the way through to opening night

and is recorded on the cast album.

As arranger and musical director, Isaac Hayward’s taste in harmony, his internalised

knowledge of music theatre, and of rock/pop arrangement are all present in the final version.

Isaac also tends to like symmetry in song structure, and throughout the process of writing,

Isaac and I often disagree on the bar lengths between sections, or in phrasing lengths. I often

intuitively feel that odd numbers of bars seem natural, and this is counter to Isaac’s natural

instinct. The result is that this aspect of Isaac’s influence is manifested in the bones of

“Progress” and in the overall conformity of section lengths.

Financial considerations play a significant role in the final iteration of “Progress,” as I had initially intended that a horn section would play the central theme of the song. Unfortunately, the budget precludes us from being able to have horn players in the orchestra, and Isaac is left as musical director trying to work out how he will either replicate horns with samples or pre- recording for the live show. In order to do this convincingly, there are limitations on the parts that can be featured, and we lose a particularly significant high trumpet line in the main hook.

The horns in general are played down in the arrangement and doubled with an electric guitar to disguise the fact they are being generated by a keyboard. This demonstrates Auslander’s

(2004b) notion of music industry input influencing songwriting.

130

Figure 19. The Cast Performs "Progress".

Note. Photo: Sydney Theatre Company.

Song Three: “Never Stick Your Neck Out”

The song that would become “Never Stick Your Neck Out” went through three iterations. It

illustrates how, within the genre of musical theatre, shifting a narrative can alter the DNA of

a piece. It could even be argued that rather than being three rewrites of the same song, the

three drafts are three entirely separate pieces. However, each of the drafts informed the creation of the next. The elements of theme and persona remain throughout despite the lyrical and musical elements changing dramatically. “Never Stick Your Neck Out” began its life as a simple song offering an insight into the character of Brice, in much the same way “The

Bouquet” functions for Muriel. In its final incarnation, the song sits at the intersection of many of the show’s larger themes. The song that became “Never Stick Your Neck Out” takes

131

place in the early part of act two. At the end of act one, Brice and Muriel’s first date has turned out disastrously, with Rhonda collapsing and losing the use of her legs.

First Iteration: February 2016

PERSONA

Brice Nobes is the show’s male love interest. He is the most naive of any of the characters, a kind-hearted nerd. While Sydney is a place of hedonism and freedom for Muriel and Rhonda,

for Brice, it is a cold place, filled with conformists and narcissists. Brice’s job as a parking

inspector makes him reviled by the public. He is socially and vocationally an outsider.

An early discussion with PJ illuminates the fact that Brice is the character who loves Muriel

for who she is, not who she is striving to be in her fantasy life. In the film, Brice’s love

remains unrequited at the end, but PJ says that in the musical he wants to give Muriel’s

character the resolution of her and Brice getting together. In the film, Brice is played by actor

Matt Day. It is his performance persona that defines the early stages of writing this song.

The character Brice has more in common with my everyday identity than perhaps any other character in the show. I can relate to Brice’s propensity to use pessimism as a ballast against disappointment. I share Bill’s tendency to ambition, and there is no ambition without disappointment. I have come to adopt an approach of cautious pessimism in my career.

GENERATE/ CRAFT

In PJ’s January 2016 script, there is a scene where Brice tells Muriel about his feelings for

her, and she rejects him because he doesn’t fit into the fantasy of who she is trying to

become. Following this, Brice, a normally mild-mannered character, snaps at people he has

given tickets to, venting his devastation at losing Muriel.

132

My first sketch of this song plays on this, with Brice singing a mournful song, “The

Loneliness of a Parking Inspector,” and then breaking away from it to rage at people who have committed parking infractions. This comic premise comes straight from PJ Hogan’s draft of the script. The song is not included in our initial round of demos for the February workshop, but a sketch of it was performed for the creative team and met with a positive response.

PARKING INSPECTOR

The loneliness of a parking inspector

Protector of spaces

I make sure the rate race is running smoothly

But they just abuse me and pull faces

Everyone loves a fireman…(sigh)

BURLY GUY: Hey, I was only...

BRICE: Three seconds over your allotted maximum parking time in a central business

zone contravening Rule 236, statute 7AB YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT???

(Excerpt of lyric draft “The Loneliness of a Parking Inspector”, February 2016)

Second Iteration: March-April 2016

133

COLLABORATOR

Before the song is finished, the narrative requirements needed to shift. The next draft of PJ’s

script has Brice trying to muster up the courage to ask Muriel out again after the disaster of

their first date.

RETRIEVE /GENERATE/ CRAFT

“The Loneliness of a Parking Inspector” was about the irony of yelling at people and then feeling sorry for oneself for being disliked, and the theme of paradox is retrieved when writing for the “Ice Man/The Brice Man.” This song plays with the idea of someone who is

acting confident while really being doubtful. I generate lyrics that break the flow of the song

just as they did in the first draft. This time, Brice sings about how cool and calm he is, and in

gaps between verses he reveals his true fears. Kate and I both generate melodies for this

piece.

I’m calm, it’s easy

And I’m in control.

I’m the ice man

That’s just the way I roll

Cool, I’m frosty

And I don’t think twice, I’m the ice man

And I’m made of…Brice

(I’m so exposed))

134

(Ice Man/The Brice Man Scratch Lyric)

Figure 20. Dave Eastgate, Ben Bennett, and Cast Perform “Never Stick Your Neck Out”.

Note. Photo: Lisa Tomasetti.

Third Iteration: April 2016-November 2017

COLLABORATOR

At the creative team meeting after the large workshop in April 2016, we talk about the area of

the show where this song occurs, and how perhaps the stakes need to be higher. The next

draft of PJ’s script has Brice on his way to propose to Muriel before seeing her through the

window of a bridal store, engaged in her marriage fantasy. He assumes she is marrying

someone else and is devastated. The working title of the new piece that will fit here is

“Gonna Propose.” Now the quandary that Brice faces is not whether to ask Muriel out on a date, but whether to propose to her.

135

PERSONA/ GENERATE/RETRIEVE/CRAFT

Since the April workshop, Kate and I have become first-time parents. The experience of being a new father permeates everything. I find myself contemplating things about my childhood and my parents, and the notion of parenthood. I recall the lost memory of an incident where I went to the Toowoomba Show with a friend and refused to go on the ghost train ride with him. Earlier, my parents had told me about a fire in a ghost train in Sydney where several people burned to death. My friend assumed I didn’t go on the ride because I was scared of ghosts. Actually, I was scared of being incinerated. I know my parents had told me this story out of love and concern for me; it was a projection of their fears for my safety.

This memory forms the germ of the new draft of Brice’s song

I generate the draft lyrics of “Never Stick Your Neck Out” quite quickly. The lyric’s premise

is that as a child Brice’s mother told him to never get his hopes up, to protect him from being

hurt. I think this offers a good counterpoint to Muriel’s father, always espousing thinking big and being successful. I retrieve the theme of paradox inherent in the first two versions, with the paradox this time being Brice singing very cheerily about pessimism as he summons the courage to ask Muriel to marry him. The title sums up the advice he was given by his loving mum, and he appreciates this rather than finding it unpleasant. He has lived his life by this motto. This is an example of the resonance between the elements of (my) everyday identity and the persona and character, these elements functioning as in Auslander’s (2014b) model.

COLLABORATOR(a)

The song is presented to the creative team with a positive response. While everyone likes it

musically, the status of the song in the show looks uncertain, as however we run it, it does not

seem to naturally fit within the narrative flow of the piece. It seems tonally at odds with the

136

action on either side. PJ offers the criticism that perhaps the parent giving the advice should

be Brice’s father, rather than his mother. Over the next couple of drafts of the script, PJ experiments with different ways of making the song fit seamlessly into the narrative. The first, in the January draft, has Brice remembering how he was jilted in primary school by a girl, (PJ uses the name of my grade six girlfriend after we discuss that particular heartbreak) and how his father had given him the advice that day.

The breakthrough comes when PJ experiments with having an angry man who has just received a parking ticket confront Brice, and Brice asks him for advice on love. The man replies, “I’m not your father,” and Brice goes on to say he has already asked his father, which leads beautifully into the song. With this new set-up, coming as it does from an angry man, and referring to the father, it emerges during the January 2017 workshop that the piece should be specifically male in character. It speaks to what PJ and I describe as the Australian macho ideal of being strong and putting up with adversity, keeping your head down and “getting on with the job.” PJ and I share a common dislike of macho posturing and emotional disconnection misrepresented as stoicism.

Foregrounding the idea of masculinity in this song rectifies the balance of the piece within the overall narrative, bookended as it is by two bridal store fantasy sequences where Muriel explores her fantasy of a big wedding. It echoes the larger themes in the story, set up in the show’s opening number where the women of Porpoise Spit speak of the dream of marriage and the men sing of being macho.

Andrew Hallsworth’s choreography in “Never Stick Your Neck Out” draws on the masculine theme now running through the show. The all-male ensemble singing the song now stamp awkwardly as if stuck in mud, and cover and hunch their bodies, as if shielding their vulnerabilities. When Brice finally breaks free from the restraints of his father, the archetypal

137

male authority figure, at the point in the song where he decides to “stick his neck out,” it is by

climbing a ladder provided by the men in the scene, as if by singing about the limitations they

are subject to, they are liberated enough to help one of their number overcome them.

Andy’s choreo for the scene is breathtaking. I was in tears. It was like one of those

amazing film clips you see where it makes the song twice as powerful.

(Extract from journal, January 2017)

Prior to the June 2017 workshop, Kate gives the criticism that the song is feeling slow, and

that we need more variation with the second verse. I am sceptical of this, being quite in love

with my own melody, but Kate rewrites the second verse with a new melody, and it is clear

that it provides a beautiful arc to the piece.

PERSONA(a)

A key breakthrough that emerged during the workshop was that the angry man to whom

Brice had given a parking ticket would provide the entry into the tune. This role was played

by Dave Eastgate. Dave has a gravelly voice and lent the song a very masculine quality when

he sang it. Gradually, he was incorporated more in the body of the song, rather than just

being part of the set-up. In the end he becomes the co-star of a song that was initially

intended to be a solo number. The song has a rock arrangement, with layered guitars and a

big drumbeat. Rock music is traditionally a male-dominated genre, and the arrangement

serves to undergird the theme of masculinity that we are playing on in the song. Dave’s internalised knowledge of rock music helped to inform the rock’n’roll aspects of the song,

offsetting the musical theatre stylings inherent in many of the surrounding cast.

138

Conclusion of Song Analysis

Having persona as a key valence in the songwriting was invaluable as a way of not straying

from the importance of character during the process of writing songs for the show. “The

Bouquet” and “Progress” were both vehicles for characters based primarily on PJ Hogan’s

immediate family. Both relied on research, largely from conversations with PJ, about the

characters of Muriel and Bill. The character of Brice, who sings “Never Stick Your Neck

Out,” was not as clearly defined as those of Muriel and Bill, and he had a bigger role in the

musical than in the film of Muriel’s Wedding. This meant more scope for invention when

writing Brice’s lyrics. In terms of Auslander’s (2006a) model of persona, Muriel and Bill’s

(and to a much lesser extent Brice’s) personae were partially constructed of mediatised

versions of their characters. Also present in their personae were all the identities of the

creative team, as well as the performers in resonance with the identities of the characters

(Auslander, 2004b, 2006b). All three songs were greatly informed by the character/narrative,

which in MWTM functioned within my songwriting model as persona. As in Auslander’s

(2004b) model of performance persona, the audience reactions shaped the nature of persona,

and in the case of my model, song, by their “means of expression” (p. 11), effectively making

them collaborators in the musical material.

As one of the first songs we wrote, “The Bouquet” was a good introduction to writing for an

unfamiliar genre. It sits squarely between the domain I was familiar with (rock/pop), and the

domain it was written for (musical theatre). “Never Stick Your Neck Out” is the most like a simple pop song, sitting largely within the domain I was familiar with. It has very little exposition—no more than the average pop song. The narrative work is done primarily by PJ

Hogan’s set-up of the scene. So, applying my persona-centred songwriting process to this piece is perhaps the least successful of the three pieces in revealing how effective it is when applied to musical theatre. However, it starkly reveals how much other aspects of theatre can

139

have an effect on a song’s meaning. The final incarnation features an all-male ensemble

costumed by Gabriela Tylesova as office workers, labourers, and other passers-by. Coupled

with Andrew Hallsworth’s choreography and Dave Eastgate’s raspy voice, a theme of

masculinity is projected onto the lyrics that were originally written as advice from a mother,

not a father. In all of these examples, there is some form of persona acting upon the

interpretation of the song. Of the three songs, “Progress” had the most elements peculiar to

the genre of musical theatre and was most informed by the frame of “musical genre

conventions” (Auslander, 2004b, p. 11). It best reflects the application of my persona-centred

songwriting to a genre unfamiliar to me. In the domain of rock/pop, briefs for writing are not

uncommon, but the list of necessary exposition demanded by “Progress” was truly revelatory

to me. I can say now that I have internalised the voluminous reworking and prescriptive

demands of adequately funded musical theatre songwriting. Auslander’s (2014b) model has a

key influence on musical persona being “music industry input” (p. 11), and the budget given

this project had a direct bearing on the musical outcomes. “Progress” would have ceased

being rewritten in one of its earliest iterations had MWTM had a smaller budget.

“Progress” revealed that you can work something, and rework something, and still arrive at a

song that an audience can experience as feeling authentic and vital—based upon my witnessing of their reaction, as in the audience’s “means of expression” (Auslander, 2014b, p.

11). Through the numerous reworkings of this song, I realised that if you are patient you can craft your way through any songwriting task. It was not a pleasant experience for a lot of the writing process. A ready solution to challenges of the scene seemed to elude us. The more expansive elements in my songwriting model of generate, rest, and research all provided a way of keeping the writing feeling as fresh it could be given the demands of the piece.

Thinking of inspiration as a replicable mental state (flow), rather than the mysterious force of authenticity discourses, fed back into the ability to be able to craft through the most difficult

140 times when deadlines were imminent and exhaustion prevalent. Perhaps it would have been more difficult had the criticisms from our collaborators been that the musicality of the piece was in question. Imagining different performance personae both helped keep the writing process fresh in the most challenging times and also led to creative discoveries by shifting parameters of the song. By imagining a different persona performing the piece, all elements of the creative process shift.

The final version of “Progress” contains the results of numerous previous drafts. Even songs that seemed to be irrelevant often worked to solidify the material in the end product by ruling out an alternative approach. As the song moved from infinite possibilities to a definitive version, what emerged was how essential it was to resist attachment to the material as I was working on it. The workshopping, collaboration, and submission to the narrative all meant that crafting a song happened in a purgatory where the gratification of finishing it must be deferred for much longer than in the rock/pop domain. The biggest challenge I faced was trying to keep the final version sounding as if it may have been written in an afternoon rather than over nearly two years. I have spent more time working on the song “Progress” than any other musical project in my career, including entire albums. My journal shows numerous moments of despair throughout the entire process, particularly after big workshops. In the end, however, the experience of watching the song with an audience in the preview shows

(early November 2017) was one of relief and elation. I sat up in the high balcony and watched them closely, as people grinned, nodded, tapped their feet, and applauded. This was replicated across numerous shows to the point where I was convinced the audience reaction wasn’t by chance. This in itself reveals the collaboration between writer and audience, a key component of the notion of how persona functions within songwriting. I didn’t know the song was working until they did. It felt like an expressive piece of music. It wasn’t until working on “Progress” that I really appreciated the value of the concept of an archive:

141

Nothing is wasted! The great thing about keeping everything is that this ongoing

rejection is actually stocking the pond. I must remember this when getting stroppy.

(Journal extract, February 2017)

Just as what is left out of the composition of a painting informs the content within the frame,

the ideas that have been rejected in drafts of a song are elements at play within the final

version. Pursuing one path in the writing and then abandoning it often leads to other ideas or

associations, which in themselves form key attributes of the end product. An integral part of

this songwriting approach is to have an overriding mindset of deferring creative conclusions.

Keeping as many options open for as long as possible increases the likelihood of the

successful outcome of songwriting goals. Pursuing an idea only to reject it later may seem

counterproductive but could provide an answer to a future creative problem, or at the least

provide certainty over what does and doesn’t work. “Never Stick Your Neck Out,” which could easily be interpreted as three songs (but I believe functions as two drafts of a third)

illustrates this. Each version inextricably informed the next. Even though one of our earliest

versions of “The Bouquet” remained unaltered in essence from the beginning to the opening night performance, it continued to change throughout the entire process, as personae and frames surrounding it changed. Regardless of their differing variations and changing narrative contexts, all three songs were guided by the notion of persona being present in the songwriting process at all times. Persona provided me with a true north to head towards, even when the ground below me was shifting. The performers’ personae, imagined during the writing process, and finally inhabited by the songs during the show, appeared to create a sense of authenticity as their liminal elements came together, consonant with surrounding settings, frames, and music. This resonance between the content of the songs and the contextual elements of the show was reached by consensus between songwriter and audience

142

in collaboration. Goffman (1959) used the language of dramaturgy to explain the mechanics

of social interaction. It seems theatre has evolved to harness the dynamics of these elements

and create the illusion of real life. Auslander (2004b, 2006b) takes Goffman’s schema and

reapplies it in the realm of performance, in which the dynamics of theatre intersect with the

dynamics of performance, as both are dynamics of social presentation. By extending

Auslander’s model to include songwriting, the creation of verisimilitude in theatre may be

applied to the creation of authenticity in songwriting. Csikszentmihalyi’s (2014b) systems

model of creativity provides a non-aesthetic measure of the efficacy of the resultant songwriting model’s application, by observing the evaluation by the field and the adoption by the domain of the creative work.

143

Figure 21. Original Cast Recording Album Cover

Note. Sony Music Australia, 2017.

144

Chapter Five: Conclusion and Further Questions

Prior to this investigation my notion of persona was a blunt tool I employed to better meet the

practical demands of being a professional songwriter in the rock/pop domain. By theorising

and applying it in the course of this investigation, I clarified many things that I have found

vague and frustrating about the practice of songwriting. I arrived at the persona-centred songwriting method as a reaction to what I perceived to be an abundance of “magical thinking” around the notion of songwriting in my prior domain of rock/pop music. Musical

theatre seems an ideal domain in which to have applied my method, firstly, because persona is foregrounded in theatre, and secondly, because the highly collaborative nature of theatre makes it a less opaque process. There are hierarchies and procedures surrounding the creative process that are absent from rock/pop. This procedural approach to the creative process

removes a lot of the mystique and pressure created by the preoccupation with authenticity

and individual genius in the domain of rock/pop music.

In chapter one I introduced the notion of a persona-centred songwriting method and provided

some autobiographical details to illustrate how the original model emerged from the

professional challenges I faced in my career as a songwriter.

In chapter two, I provided a literature and contextual review consisting of three main areas.

First, I reviewed the notion of authenticity, its role in the music business, and how these

interact with the practical realities of being a professional songwriter. Second, I investigated

the performance and creativity theories of Auslander (2004b) and Csikszentmihalyi (2014b)

respectively, which provided the framework informing my persona-centred songwriting

model. Finally, I examined the field and domain of musical theatre where my songwriting

model is applied in the creation of songs for Muriel’s Wedding the Musical.

145

In chapter three I outlined the methodology informing this thesis, including practice as

research, action research, and the model of the persona-centred songwriting method at the

heart of this thesis. I also illustrated the methods used in this work.

In chapter four I analysed the creative work, firstly by using Csikszentmihalyi’s (2014b)

systems theory of creativity to position Muriel’s Wedding the Musical in relation to its

surrounding field and domain. I illustrated how the persona-centred songwriting model

functioned, by exploring the creation of three contrasting songs from Muriel’s Wedding the

Musical. Finally, I examined these three works as they relate to the creativity and

performance theories of Csikszentmihalyi (2014b) and Auslander (2004b).

Persona’s role as a central concern in music theatre cast a light on some elements of my

songwriting method that in the context of rock/pop might have remained in shadow.

Auditions saw dozens of performers interpret the same song in numerous ways, something

very few rock/pop songwriters would ever witness before the official completion of a song.

The notion of persona is discussed openly by the creative team during the course of auditions,

observing how certain candidates for a role interact with the song material, through their

voice, physicality, sense of humour, and creative choices in interpreting the lyrics. Long after

the ink is dry on the final version of a song, it continues to be reinvented. Some elements are

exaggerated, some diminished, some added, and some removed, all by virtue of which

performance persona is inhabiting/inhabited by the song. I believe this can be the case in

rock/pop music too, but because it is fundamental to the creation of theatrical form it is

clearer to see. The application of the persona-centred model revealed how across iterations an individual’s personal characteristics shape a song explicitly: we saw the song performed first by ourselves, then by numerous actors auditioning for the role, and then finally by the actor who performed it on stage.

146

Narrative influences the substance of a song in both rock/pop and theatre. In theatre it is a crucial element considered openly by practitioners throughout the process of creation. In rock/pop, while the narrative surrounding an artist is a conventional part of marketing strategy, the narrative surrounding individual songs is not as clearly codified. The confluence of narrative and character in the process of making Muriel’s Wedding the Musical was discussed at every iteration of each song. Observing how significant the impact on a song’s text was by the rewriting of its surrounding narrative made me consider how important the narrative context of a song’s presentation is in the rock/pop domain. Yet in rock/pop, a song’s narrative is constructed in mediatised processes like artist interviews, music videos, and social media posts, as well as in the performance context. When in the course of this investigation I had to address the issues of character and narrative as they applied to my songwriting model, I found that I could treat them as functioning together as persona. The implications for applying the model back into the pop/rock domain (in future) is that a song’s surrounding mediatised narrative might be shaped more deliberately to maximise its resonance with the text of that song.

The genre of musical theatre foregrounded how much the surrounding elements of a song actually contribute to the resultant music. Costume, design, and movement all informed the song’s meaning, in a way that focused how they function in rock/pop. While these are considerations in both genres, it was not until seeing them constantly shift and be reworked around a song that these contexts of presentation revealed the degree of power they have over an audience’s perception of a song. Of course, everyone who has any knowledge of arrangement and production is aware of how changing a guitar effect, drum sound, or harmony part can reinvent a song, but still we tend to think of a song as a fixed object. In rock/pop this is likely because a song is considered finished when it has been recorded.

However, once you start to tease apart the elements that form one particular song it becomes

147

clear that like persona, song can be seen as a process rather than an object. Persona can

highlight that a song’s creative success depends as much on context as content. This is no

revelation; anyone choosing the order of tracks on an album, such as DJs, radio programmers,

or people making playlists for their friends, is aware of this. I find it useful as a songwriter to

be reminded, as it makes things that seem peripheral concerns more central to my approach.

Applying a model of songwriting that sees songwriting as a social, performance-centred act undermines the traditional notion of authorship. Beyond the individual’s explicitly attributed authorship of songs are all of the contextual concerns, some of which are pure luck. I am left with a sense of how truly collaborative all songwriting is. The reality is that a song is created by the genres and cultures surrounding it, and in particular, by the personae of not just the copyright-credited composers, but also the performers, arrangers, and everyone and everything involved in the process of bringing it into public view, which includes the lighting, costumes, and the public themselves. How arbitrary the lines are of where a new work begins to be created, and where it ends—this is not an original observation. By

consisting only of silence, John Cage’s “4’33”” placed all its emphasis on the context of performance, totally removing the composer from the work beyond the initial set-up

(Palmowski, 2016). Despite this it was the subject of a copyright infringement claim

(Oppenheim, 2003).

The process of music theatre is predicated on explicitly (and unashamedly) manipulating persona, narrative, and setting, with the aim of bringing about a synergy between them, resulting in a degree of verisimilitude. I suspect that rock/pop music operates in the same way, only it does it inexpertly by becoming infatuated with its own mystique.

This investigation leads me to have more questions into which I would like to see further research. Firstly, it is quite possible that there are different approaches to creativity, and some

148 practitioners are naturally expressive, while others are naturally inclined to frame songwriting in terms of performance. I would like to see if this is the case by interviewing other songwriters who make a living from their craft. If, indeed, some seemed to be more expressive, I would like to have them test my persona-centred method and see if they found it of use. Separately to this, I would like to investigate how this particular model could be of use to students studying the songwriting of popular music. I’d like to see if the students found it as liberating as I did to apply a model of songwriting that is informed by the notion of persona, and therefore by extension, notions of collaboration and performativity, in a demystified creative environment.

149

References

22 Songs You Won’t Believe Were Originally Written for other People. (n.d.).

http://www.capitalxtra.com/features/lists/songs-originally-written-for-other-

artists/we-cant-stop/

Adelman, C. (1993). Kurt Lewin and the Origins of Action Research. Educational Action

Research, 1(1), 7–24. https://doi.org/10.1080/0965079930010102

Adorno, T., & Bernstein, J. (2001). The culture industry: selected essays on mass culture.

Routledge. https://doi.org/10.4324/9781003071297

Albrecht, M. M. (2008). Acting naturally unnaturally: The performative nature of authenticity

in contemporary popular music. Text and Performance Quarterly, 28(4), 379-395.

Amos, T. & Powers, A. (2005). Tori Amos: Piece by Piece. Broadway Books.

APRA/AMCOS FAQ (2018). http://apraamcos.com.au/about-us/faqs/

Arditi, D. (2014). iTunes: Breaking Barriers and Building Walls. Popular Music &

Society, 37(4), 408-424.

ARIA 2017 Music Industry Figures Show 10.5% Growth (2018).

https://www.ariacharts.com.au/news/2018/aria-2017-music-industry-figures-show-10-

5-growth

Auman, K. (2015). The day alternative music died: Dylan, zeppelin, punk, glam, alt, majors,

indies, and the struggle between art and money for the soul of rock. MEIEA

Journal, 15(1), 203-203, 206.

Auslander, P. (1998). Seeing is believing: Live performance and the discourse of authenticity

in rock culture. Literature and Psychology, 44(4), 1–26.

Auslander, P. (2002). Liveness: Performance in a mediatised culture. (2nd ed.). Routledge.

Auslander, P. (2004a). I wanna be your man: Suzi Quatro's musical androgyny. Popular

Music, 23(1), 1-16.

150

Auslander, P. (2004b). Performance analysis and popular music: A manifesto. Contemporary

Theatre Review, 14(1), 1-13.

Auslander, P. (2006a). Music as performance: Living in the immaterial world. Theatre

Survey, 47(2), 261-269.

Auslander, P. (2006b). Musical Personae. TDR/The Drama Review, 50(1), 100–119.

Auslander, P. (2006c). Performing glam rock: Gender and theatricality in popular music.

University of Michigan Press.

Auslander, P. (2006d). The performativity of performance documentation. Paj-a Journal of

Performance and Art, 84, 1-10.

AWGIE Awards. (2018). Previous Winners. https://awg.com.au/awgies/

Bailey, M. (2018, Feb 01). Aussie disrupting store muzak. The Australian Financial

Review. https://gateway.library.qut.edu.au/login?url=https://search-proquest-

com.ezp01.library.qut.edu.au/docview/1992615419?accountid=13380

Bareilles, S. (2007). Love Song. On Little Voice. Epic.

BBC Newsnight. (2016, Jan 11). David Bowie speaks to Jeremy Paxman on BBC (1999)

[Video]. YouTube. https://youtu.be/FiK7s_0tGsg

Becker, H. (2008). Art Worlds and Collective Activity. In Art Worlds, 25th Anniversary

Edition: 25th Anniversary edition, Updated and Expanded (pp. 1-39). University of

California Press.

Bennett, J. (2011). Collaborative songwriting–the ontology of negotiated creativity in popular

music studio practice. Journal on the Art of Record Production, 5.

Bickerstaff, J. (2011). Collaborative theatre/creative process. Communication and Theater

Association of Minnesota Journal, 38(1), 4.

151

Bizzacca, C. (2017). Top 10 Muriel’s Wedding Quotes. Screen Australia.

https://www.screenaustralia.gov.au/sa/screen-news/2017/06-19-top-10-muriels-

wedding-quotes

Blake, J. (2017). Muriel's Wedding the Musical review: Maggie McKenna's dream debut.

Sydney Morning Herald. https://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/muriels-wedding-

the-musical-review-maggie-mckennas-dream-debut-20171119-gzodmb.html

Bolton, G. (2006). Narrative writing: reflective enquiry into professional practice.

Educational Action Research, 14(2), 203–218.

Bourdieu, P. (1977). Outline of a Theory of Practice. Cambridge University Press.

Brett Oaten Solicitors. (n.d.). Our Clients. http://www.brettoaten.com.au/our-clients

Broadway World DB. (n.d.). https://www.broadwayworld.com/bwidb/

Burns, D. (2007). Systemic action research: A strategy for whole system change. Bristol

University Press. https://doi/org/10.2307/j.ctt9qgvn5

Butler, J. (2002). Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity. Routledge.

Butler, J. (2011). Bodies that matter: On the discursive limits of sex. Routledge.

Cantwell, R. (1997). When We Were Good: The Folk Revival. Harvard University Press.

Capps, K. (2013). The Artist is Ever Present. NYMag.com.

https://nymag.com/news/intelligencer/topic/madonna-2013-10/

Cash, J. (1957). Folsom Prison Blues. On Johnny Cash with his Hot and Blue Guitar. Sun.

Chambers, K. (2001). Not Pretty Enough. On Barricades and Brickwalls. EMI Music

Australia.

Christner, D. D. (1982). The Romantic Ideal of the Artist in the Music Industry [Master’s

Thesis, California State University]. ProQuest Dissertations & Theses Global.

152

Cobb, M.C. (2016). Songwriting as Inquiry and Action: Emotion, Narrative Identity, and

Authenticity in Folk Music Culture. [Doctor of Philosophy, University of South

Florida]

Graduate Theses and Dissertations. http://scholarcommons.usf.edu/etd/6208

Cooper, N. (2016). Helpmann Awards 2016: QTC’s Ladies in Black wins Best New

Australian Work. Sydney Morning Herald.

https://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/helpmann-awards-2016-qtcs-ladies-in-black-

wins-best-new-australian-work-20160725-gqdgvg.html

Could Sheryl Crow’s DINER Musical Still Land on Broadway? (2018).

https://www.broadwayworld.com/article/Could-Sheryl-Crows-DINER-Musical-Still-

Land-on-Broadway-20180406

Cox, G. (2006). Pop star “Awakening.” Variety. https://variety.com/2006/legit/news/pop-star-

awakening-1117938822/

Critics divided over The Light Princess (2013). https://www.whatsonstage.com/london-

theatre/news/critics-divided-over-the-light-princess_32240.html

Crossley, N. (1996). Philosophy & Social Criticism: Intersubjectivity: The fabric of social

becoming. SAGE Publications Ltd.

Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1990). Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience. Harper & Row.

Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1997). Flow and the psychology of discovery and invention. Harper

Perennial.

Csikszentmihalyi M. (2014a). Play and Intrinsic Rewards. In: Flow and the Foundations of

Positive Psychology. Springer Netherlands.

Csikszentmihalyi, M. (2014b). The Systems Model of Creativity: The Collected Works of

Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi. Springer Netherlands.

153

Dean, Alexander & Carra, L. (1989). Fundamentals of Play Directing. (5th ed.). Waveland

Press.

Dexter, D. (1979). Talent: Weisman: “Unknown” But Potent. Billboard (Archive: 1963-

2000), 91(11), 43. http://search.proquest.com/docview/1286243686/

Donoghue, P. (2017). Growth in Spotify, Apple Music users boosting revenue for Australian

musicians, figures. ABC. http://www.abc.net.au/news/2017-10-04/streaming-services-

boost-revenue-for-australian-musicians/9013974

Eastman, J.T. (2010). Authenticating Identity Work: Accounts of Underground Country

Musicians. Symbolic Interaction 35, 51-67.

Forbes, J., & Domm, D. (2004). Creativity and Productivity: Resolving the Conflict. S.A.M.

Advanced Management Journal, 69(2), 4–11.

Fourie, I., & Fourie, H. (2013). Getting it done on time. Library Hi Tech, 31(2), 391–400.

Fricke, D. (2011). Leiber and Stoller: Rolling Stone’s 1990 Interview with the Songwriting

Legends. Rolling Stone. https://www.rollingstone.com/music/news/leiber-stoller-

rolling-stones-1990-interview-with-the-songwriting-legends-20110822

Frith, S. (1981). Sound Effects: Youth, Leisure, and the Politics of Rock’n’Roll. Pantheon.

Frith, S. (1996a). Music and identity. Questions of cultural identity, 1, 108-128.

Frith, S. (1996b). Performing Rites: Evaluating Popular Music. Oxford University Press.

Frith, S. & Horne, H. (1987). Art into Pop. Routledge

Gans, A. (2017). How Did Critics Review the World Premiere of Muriel’s Wedding the

Musical? Playbill. http://www.playbill.com/article/how-did-critics-review-the-world-

premiere-of-muriels-wedding-the-musical

Goffman, E. (1986). Frame Analysis: An Essay on the Organisation of Experience.

Northeastern University Press.

154

Goffman, E. (1959). The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. New York: Anchor Books.

Goodwin, A. (2012). Professor Simon Frith on authenticity and popular music. Beats, Rhyme,

and Life. https://globalnoise.wordpress.com/2012/03/12/professor-simon-frith-on-

authenticity-and-popular-music/

Gordon, D. (2018). Who Is Eddie Perfect? Meet the Aussie Composer Who Makes King

Kong and Beetlejuice Sing. Theater Mania.

https://www.theatermania.com/washington-dc-theater/news/interview-eddie-perfect-

king-kong-beetlejuice_86417.html

Gordon, R. & Jubin, O. (2015). ‘Telling the tale’: Adaptation as interpretation. Studies in

Musical Theatre, Studies in Musical Theatre, 9(1), 3–11.

Gracyk, T. (1996). Rhythm and noise: An aesthetics of rock. Duke University Press.

Gray, C. (1996). Inquiry through practice: developing appropriate research strategies. No

guru, no method, 1-28. http://carolegray.net/Papers%20PDFs/ngnm.pdf

Gray, M (2010). The Sellout. Concord Records.

Greenwood, D. & Levin. M. (1998). An Introduction to action research: Social research for

social change. Sage Publications.

Grier, M. P. (2013). Said the hooker to the thief: "some way out" of rockism. Journal of

Popular Music Studies, 25(1), 31-55.

Gundersen, E. (2011). Paul Simon feels ‘Spider-Man’ producers’ pain. USA Today.

http://content.usatoday.com/communities/entertainment/post/2011/04/paul-simon-

feels-spider-man-producers-pain/1#.WueyniNL10s

Helpmann Awards (2018) Past Nominees and Winners.

http://www.helpmannawards.com.au/2018/past-nominees-and-winners/musicals

Handler, R. (1986). Authenticity. Anthropology Today, 2(1), 2-4.

https://doi/org/10.2307/3032899

155

Hanus, S. (2018). Deregulating the Music Industry: A Push to Give Power Back to the

Songwriters. DePaul Business & Commercial Law Journal, 16(2).

Hogan, P.J. (2012). Muriel’s Wedding: Original Screenplay. Strawberry Hills: Currency

Press.

Honour, H. (1979). Romanticism (1st U.S. ed.). Harper & Row/ Westview Press.

Hu, C. (2018). Is Now Really the Best Time to Invest in Music Royalties? Forbes.

https://www.forbes.com/sites/cheriehu/2018/01/04/is-now-really-the-best-time-to-

invest-in-music-royalties/#76ae80483c8e

Hunter, M. (2011). Shake It, Baby, Shake It: Consumption and the New Gender Relation in

Hip-Hop. Sociological Perspectives,54(1), 15-36.

Hytönen-Ng, E. (2013). Experiencing 'flow' in jazz performance. Routledge.

Ingham, T. (2014). A Star is Unborn. Music Week, 71, 10-11.

Inglis, I. (2003). Some Kind of Wonderful: The Creative Legacy of the Brill

Building. American Music, 21(2), 214-235.

Inglis, Sam (2002). Rob Davis: Hit Songwriter. Sound on Sound.

https://www.soundonsound.com/people/rob-davis

Jones, T. (2017). Where are the new Australian Musicals? Waiting in the wings. The

Conversation. https://theconversation.com/where-are-the-new-australian-musicals-

waiting-in-the-wings-79831

Karena, C. (2008). Rock n Roll Nerd: Rhian Skirving and Tim Minchin’s Journey from the

Edge of Obscurity to the Verge of Celebrity. Metro Magazine: Media & Education

Magazine, 159, 58–61.

Kauanui, S., Sherman, C., & Randall, C. (2014). Entrepreneurs’ Subjective Well-Being:

Examining Flow, Self-Rated Success, and Productivity. In ICSB World Conference

156

Proceedings (pp. 1–3). International Council for Small Business (ICSB).

http://search.proquest.com/docview/1796773865/

Keating! (2018). Australian Stage Database. https://www.ausstage.edu.au/pages/work/742

Kenrick, J. (2008). Musical theatre: A history. Continuum.

Kershaw, B. (2010). Devising. In The Companion to Theatre and Performance. Oxford

University Press.

https://www.oxfordreferencecom.ezp01.library.qut.edu.au/view/10.1093/acref/978019

9574193.001.0001/acref-9780199574193-e-1065

Klein, B., Meier, L. M., & Powers, D. (2017). Selling Out: Musicians, Autonomy, and

Compromise in the Digital Age. Popular Music & Society, 40(2), 222–238.

Kowalke, K. H. (2007). A chronology of American musical Theater/Broadway musicals,

1943-2004/Unfinished show business: Broadway musicals as works-in-

Process/Musical theater and American Culture/Our musicals, ourselves: A social

history of the American musical theatre/ the American musical and the formation of

national Identity/The American musical and the performance of personal Identity/The

musical as drama: A study of the principles and conventions behind musical shows

from kern to Sondheim/The rise and fall of the Broadway musical. Journal of the

American Musicological Society, 60(3), 688-714,718.

Langer, S. K. (1953). Feeling and form. (Vol. 3). Routledge and Kegan Paul.

Lena, J.C., & Peterson, R. (2008). Classification as Culture: Types and Trajectories of Music

Genres. American Sociological Review 73(5):697-718.

Lewin, K. (1952). Field theory in social science. Harper and Brothers.

Lichtman, I. (1993). Artists & Music: Composer Ben Weisman Tracks Elvis’ Film Career.

Billboard (Archive: 1963-2000), 105(2), 28.

157

Long, P., & Barber, S. (2015). Voicing Passion: The emotional economy of songwriting.

European Journal of Cultural Studies. 18(2), 142-157.

Lunden, J. (2014). Jukebox heroes? how Broadway musicals add up for Sony/ATV.

Billboard, 126(11), 32.

Lyman, R. (1998). After ‘Capeman’, A Chill in a Thriving Broadway Season. New York

Times. https://www.nytimes.com/1998/03/07/theater/after-capeman-a-chill-in-a-

thriving-broadway-season.html?fta=y

Lynskey, D. (2011). The Great Rock’n’roll Sellout. The Guardian.

https://www.theguardian.com/music/2011/jun/30/rocknroll-sellout

Marshall, L. (2015). “Let’s keep music special. F—Spotify”: on-demand streaming and the

controversy over artist royalties. Creative Industries Journal, 8(2), 1–13.

Marshall, P. D., & Barbour, K. (2015). Making intellectual room for Persona Studies: a new

consciousness and a shifted perspective. Persona Studies.

Maslow, A. H. (2012) Toward a psychology of being. Start Publishing LLC. (Original work

published 1962).

Matilda musical Breaks Olivier awards record (2012). BBC News.

http://www.bbc.com/news/entertainment-arts-17721379

Mayhew, E. (1999). Women in Popular Music and the Construction of Authenticity. Journal

of Interdisciplinary Gender Studies: JIGS, 4(1), 63–81.

McCormick, L. & Soderberg, B. (2011) Rappers Who’ve Sold their Soul. Spin Magazine.

McDuling, J. (2018). Spotify’s symbolic (non) IPO – and why it’s no Netflix for Music.

Sydney Morning Herald. https://www.smh.com.au/business/markets/spotify-s-

symbolic-non-ipo-and-why-it-s-no-netflix-for-music-20180301-p4z2ad.html

McIntyre, P. (2008a). Creativity and Cultural Production: A Study of Contemporary Western

Popular Music Songwriting, Creativity Research Journal, 20(1), 40-52.

158

McIntyre, P. (2008b). The Systems Model of Creativity: Analysing the Distribution of Power

in the Studio. Journal on the Art of Record Production, (3).

McIntyre, P., Fulton, J., & Paton, E. (2016). The creative system in action: Understanding

cultural production and practice. Palgrave MacMillan.

McPherson, A. (2017). Review: Muriel’s Wedding the Musical (Sydney Theatre Company).

Limelight. https://www.limelightmagazine.com.au/reviews/review-muriels-wedding-

musical-sydney-theatre-company-global-creatures/

Megarrity, D. (2015). Musicalising theatre, theatricalising music: Writing and performing

intermediality in composed theatre. [PhD by Creative Works, Queensland University

of Technology]. https://eprints.qut.edu.au/88953/

Millard, A. (2005). America on record: a history of recorded sound. Cambridge University

Press.

Moffatt, A., Barton, G. & Ryan, M. (2016). Multimodal reflection for creative facilitators: an

approach to improving self-care, Reflective Practice, 17(6), 762-778.

Mordden, E. (2013). Anything goes: a history of American musical theatre. Oxford

University Press.

Morley, S. (1987). Spread a little happiness: the first hundred years of the British musical.

Thames and Hudson.

Movieclips. (2015, March 24). Bull Durham (1988) What Crash Believes Scene (1/12)

[Video]. YouTube. https://youtu.be/mn5crhTusSA (Original author Shelton, R.

[Screenwriter])

Murfett, A, & Ziffer, D. (2007, July 07). ‘Youth’ network hits the radio rocks. The Age.

Muriel’s Wedding (1994). The Internet Movie Database.

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0110598/

159

Nelson, R. (2006). Practice-as-research and the Problem of Knowledge. Performance

Research, 11(4), 105–116.

Neutze, B. (2017). Muriel’s Wedding the Musical review (Roslyn Packer Theatre). The Daily

Review. https://dailyreview.com.au/muriels-wedding-musical-review-roslyn-packer-

theatre/68325/

Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds (1996). Murder Ballads. Mute Records.

No business like show business: The economics of Broadway. (2016). The Economist.

https://www.economist.com/business/2016/06/16/no-business-like-show-business

Oppenheim, C. (2003). LISLEX: Legal issues of concern to the library and information

science sector. Journal of Information Science, 29(1), 57–59.

Palmowski. (2016). 4’33": John Cage’s Utopia Of Music. Studia humanistyczne AGH

(Kraków), 15(2), 17–25.

Panned Boy George Musical “Taboo” closing (2004). CNN.

https://web.archive.org/web/20071223103358/http://www.cnn.com/2004/SHOWBIZ/

Music/01/14/theater.tabooclosing.ap/

Paphides, P. (2002). Musical Chairs. The Guardian.

https://www.theguardian.com/music/2002/sep/21/artsfeatures.popandrock

Perone, J. E. (Ed.). (2012). The album: a guide to pop music's most provocative, influential,

and important creations. Praeger.

Peters, M. (2011). Overture to Profits. Billboard, 123(7), 50.

Pop Stars Who Wrote Musicals (2014). Kinky Boots the Musical.

http://www.kinkybootsmusical.co.uk/pop-stars-who-write-musicals/

Portwood, J. (2017). Why Groundhog Day needed to be a musical. Rolling Stone.

https://www.rollingstone.com/culture/culture-features/why-groundhog-day-needed-

to-be-a-musical-108165/

160

Reason, P. & Bradbury, H., (2008). Introduction. In P. Reason, P., & H. Bradbury (Eds.), The

SAGE handbook of action research (pp. 1-10).: SAGE Publications Ltd.

http://dx.doi.org/ 10.4135/9781848607934

Regurgitator (1997). Unit. Warner Music Australia.

Rice, T. (1999). Oh, what a Circus. Coronet

Roberts, Jo (2005). The return of Placido Domingo retrieved 25 June 2018 from

https://www.smh.com.au/news/arts/the-opera-we-had-to-

have/2005/07/22/1121539135085.html

Roesner, D. (2014). Musicality in theatre: Music as model, method and metaphor in theatre-

making. Ashgate Publishing.

Rojek, C. (2011) Pop Music, Pop Culture. Polity Press.

Rovzar, Chris (2018). Escape to Margaritaville Review: Even a Shaker of Salt Can’t Save

This One. Bloomberg News. https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2018-03-16/-

escape-to-margaritaville-review-broadway-s-weakest-cocktail

Scheff, T. J. (2016). Goffman unbound: A new paradigm for social science. Routledge.

Schön, D. A. (1983). The reflective practitioner: How professionals think in action.

Routledge.

Sebag-Montefiore, C. (19 November 2017). Muriel’s Wedding the Musical: Review. The

Guardian. https://www.theguardian.com/stage/2017/nov/19/muriels-wedding-the-

musical-review-gutsy-and-brash-sendup-of-all-things-australiana

Senczuk, J. (2017a). Musical Theatre in Australia: The Industry. Music in Australia.

http://musicinaustralia.org.au/index.php?title=Musical_Theatre_in_Australia#THE_I

NDUSTRY

161

Senczuk, J. (2017b). SWOT Analysis of Australian Musical Theatre. Music in Australia.

https://www.musicinaustralia.org.au/swot-analysis-of-musical-theatre-the-australian-

musical/#the_boulevard_musical

Shane Warne: The musical on Austage Database. (2018). Austage.

https://www.ausstage.edu.au/pages/work/144

Shark, A. (2018). I Said Hi. On Love Monster. Wonderlick.

Sharp, K. (2007). Writing For The King: The Songs That Rocked the World, and the Writers

Behind Them. American Songwriter. http://americansongwriter.com/2007/07/writing-

for-the-king-the-songs-that-rocked-the-world-and-the-writers-behind-them/

Simpson, S., & Munro, J. (2012). Music Business: A Musicians Guide to the Australian

Music Industry. Omnibus Press.

Slaght, V. (2011). Interview: Aimee Mann. The Pop Break.

https://thepopbreak.com/2011/03/28/aimee-mann/

Smith, H., & Dean, R. T. (Eds.). (2009). Practice-led research, research-led practice in the

creative arts. Edinburgh University Press.

Smith, M. (2017, 24 October). Is the Australian musical dead? [Video]. ABC News.

http://mobile.abc.net.au/news/2017-10-24/is-the-australian-musical-

dead/9082118?pfmredir=sm

Soloski, A. (26 March 2016). “Writers have to take risks”: is this really a new Broadway

golden age? The Guardian. https://www.theguardian.com/stage/2016/mar/25/new-

broadway-golden-age-musical-theater

Somekh, B. (2005). Action Research: A Methodology for Change and Development.

McGraw-Hill Education.

Sondheim, S. (2010). Finishing the hat: collected lyrics (1954-1981) with attendant

comments, principles, heresies, grudges, whines and anecdotes. (1st ed.). Knopf.

162

Spiderbait. (1996) Buy Me A Pony. On Ivy and the Big Apples. Universal Music Australia.

Spradley, J.P. (1980). Participant Observation. Holt, Rinehart and Winston.

Stafford, D., & Stafford, C. (2011). Fings Ain't Wot They Used T'be: The Lionel Bart Story. Omnibus Press.

Stratton, J. (1983). Capitalism and Romantic Ideology in the Record Business. Popular

Music, 3, 143–156.

Stringer, Ernest T. (2007). Action Research. SAGE Publications.

Studwell, W.E. (1996) The Complex Web of Composition: American Popular Songwriting

Teams of the 20th Century. Music Reference Services Quarterly, 5(2), 1–24.

Sullivan, G. (2009). Making Space: The Purpose and Place of Practice-led Research. In

Smith H. & Dean R. (Eds.), Practice-led Research, Research-led Practice in the

Creative Arts (pp. 41-65). Edinburgh University Press.

Supergrass. (1997). In it For the Money. Echo.

Sutherland. (2017). Songwriting: Why it takes more than two to make a hit nowadays. Music

Week. https://www.musicweek.com/publishing/read/songwriting-why-it-takes-more-

than-two-to-make-a-hit-nowadays/068478

Sydney Theatre Awards. (n.d). 2017 Nominees and Winners.

http://www.sydneytheatreawards.com/history/2017

Teague, M. (6 October 2015). Sarah Blasko: There’s strength in taking songwriting away

from your identity. The Guardian.

https://www.theguardian.com/music/2015/oct/06/sarah-blasko-theres-strength-in-

taking-songwriting-away-from-your-identity

Tony Awards 2013: The Complete List of Winners. (2013). Time.

http://entertainment.time.com/2013/06/09/tony-awards-2013-the-complete-list-of-

winners/

163

Tough, D. (2013). Teaching modern production and songwriting techniques: What makes a

hit song? MEIEA Journal, 13(1), 97-124.

Vega, S. (1987). Luka. On Solitude Standing. A & M.

Vivid White. (2018). Austage Database. https://www.ausstage.edu.au/pages/work/17448

Waits, T. (1976). Small Change. Asylum Records.

Weisbard, E. (2015). How do you solve a problem like a mainstream? charting the musical

middle. American Quarterly, 67(1), 253-265, 279.

Whissell, C. (1996). Traditional and Emotional Stylometric Analysis of the Songs of Beatles

Paul McCartney and John Lennon. Computers and the Humanities, 30(3), 257-265.

Who, The. (1967). The Who Sell Out. Polydor Records.

Wilde, W.B. (2017). 7 famous musicians who wrote musicals. Desert News.

https://www.deseretnews.com/article/865685518/7-famous-musicians-who-wrote-

musicals.html

Winter, R. (1999). Professional experience & the investigative imagination the art of

reflective writing. Routledge.

Woolford, Julian (2012). How Musicals Work. Nick Hern Books.

Zollo, P. (1997). Songwriters on songwriting. Da Capo Press.

164

Appendix

Lyrics and Process

“Imagine my Joy”. (February 2016)

Finally, I feel like

If I was them I’d be amazed

If I was them, I’d be impressed

and everyone will wish they were me

And if I were them, I’d definitely wish I were me

Imagine my joy

“Imagine her joy” they’ll all say

Every eye upon me

And not a dry eye anywhere

my cup my heart is full to bursting

Look at the perfect stone arches

Champagne pops like fireworks

The church bells sing out “Happiness”

Doves fly up into the sky

165

Like angels soar through paradise

And every eye’s upon you

And not one eye is dry

Tears of joy

Cheers of pride

Here comes the bride!

I am perfect dressed in white

A princess radiating light

And everything will be alright

Doves fly up into the sky

Like angels soar through paradise

It’s beautiful, it’s spring, it’s bright

and the sun will shine, warm and wonderful through the cathedral windows colourful

Bridesmaids in my chardonnay

Like angels soar through paradise all winged and shiny

“Bill’s Song” Draft Lyric (March 2016)

I get stopped in the street

And the people I meet

166

They all thank me - and rightly so

They know I have vision

I’m a man on a mission to make sure Porpoise Spit’s gonna grow

growth! growth! growth!

You’ve got to have a purpose whether its Porpoise Spit or Surfers there’s a little bit of Vegas in all of us

it’s nothing to do with fate it’s nothing to do with luck don’t you think the body politic could use a nip and tuck?

I come from a humble background no, I’m no gentleman or scholar but every cent in this electorate I’ll turn into a dollar watch that dollar turn to ten then greenbacks, then yen it’s a service I give ’em

I turn red tape into ribbons

167

I’m a master of the process

“You can’t stop progress”

Now it’s not always easy

You gotta keep palms greasy (points at a palm tree)

Or commerce will screech to a halt

It takes a special kind of wisdom

To jockey the system

And make sure the whole horse doesn’t bolt

you have to balance like a gymnast between the voters and big business few men you see are bold enough to try it

if you can sell ‘em “the dream” until their eyes start to gleam and they’ll sell their own children just to buy it

SLOW to SPEED UP:

step one:

hearts and minds

168

looking neat press the flesh hit the street media luncheons strong but sweet black tie functions stand and speak photo opps meet, greet, repeat ticks on ballots bums on seats

step two:

elections won then shit gets real games of golf and 3-course meals golden handshakes backroom deals stuffed envelopes

I never saw a thing

HYMNAL PART (spoken)

169

I could write a book about self-help self-help is about helping yourself and help yourself you have to help someone else help themselves

An endless skyline of bright, white high-rises as far as the eye can see

Resorts and malls, a giant casino where money flows endlessly

The stars up above silver coins and diamonds

Hold out your hands and catch

commission! apiece, my slice, a percentage, my share only fair, to be compensated brown envelopes, incentives, the perks of the job strap on the feedbag, I’m hungry!

(he smells Diedre) mmm that new car smell!

GROWTH! swelling

GROWTH! swollen!

GROWTH!

170 yummy!

171

“Bill’s Song Scratch Sheet 2” (March 2016).

I believe in honesty

You should always appear to have some

I believe in family

Voters love it if you have one

Even if it’s a family...like this one

It’s all part of the process

You can’t stop progress

I believe in conversation

I could talk about myself for days

I believe in conservation

I make sure my green fees are always paid

At the golf course where I play

It’s all part of the process

You can’t stop progress

You’ve got to have a purpose

whether its Porpoise Spit or Surfers

there’s a little bit of Vegas

in all of us

so that’s what I give em

I turn red tape into ribbons

It’s all part of the process

YOU CAN’T STOP PROGRESS

172

I believe in being a leader

That’s why I’m careful who I follow

I believe in making promises

Especially ones they swallow

Even if they may be hollow

It’s all part of the process

You can’t stop progress

I believe in pressing the flesh

hitting the street

hearts and minds

looking neat

media luncheons

black tie functions

stand and speak

photo opps

meet, greet repeat

ticks on ballots

then bums on seats elections won then

shit gets real

games of golf

and 3-course meals

173 golden handshakes backroom deals

an envelope of cash?

I never saw a thing your honour

I believe every word I say is for the greater good it’s all part of the process

You can’t stop progress

174

“You Can’t Stop Progress (demo2)” (April 2016).

I get stopped in the street

Everywhere I go

All the folks that I meet

Thank me - and rightly so

They know I have a vision

I’m a man on a mission

To make sure Porpoise Spit is gonna grow and…GROW

I believe

I believe in honesty

You should always appear to have some

I believe

I believe in family

Voters love it if you have one

Even a family like this one

It’s all part of the process

You can’t stop progress

(And another round of honey chicken please, love!)

You gotta have a purpose

Whether it’s Porpoise Spit or Surfer’s

There’s a little bit of Vegas, Vegas, in all of us

So that’s just what I give ‘em

175

Turning red tape into ribbon

I’m the hostess with the mostest, the best

Loving the process

You can’t stop progress!

I believe

I believe in conversation

Deidre: He could talk about himself for days!

I believe

I believe in conservation

Deidre: His green fees are always paid

At the golf course where he (I) play(s)

It’s all the part of the process…

You can’t stop Progress!

[DIALOGUE]

Deidre and Muriel

Hearts and minds

Looking sweet

Press the flesh

Hit the street

Media luncheons

Make mine a neat

Black tie functions

176

Stand and speak

Photo opps

Rinse, repeat

Ticks on ballots bums on seats

Elections won then

Shit gets real

Games of golf

Three-course meals

Construction boom

Growth reports

Developments

Malls, resorts, Casinos!

Pokies hahaha

The past is an unwiped arse

The future - a champagne glass

That sparkles like a diamond in the sky

Reach out and catch! Catch! Catch!

You gotta have a purpose

Whether it’s Porpoise Spit or Surfer’s

There’s a little bit of Vegas, Vegas, in all of us

So that’s just what I give ‘em

177

I turn the red tape into ribbon

My fellow Australians, honourable guests from Asia, its honestly just a pleasure to serve.

You can’t stop

You can’t stop [x several]

You can’t stop progress!

178

“Look at this Lot” (January 2017).

Take a look at Victor

By the age of seventeen

He dared to have a dream

He made a million dollars with a real estate scheme

A real estate scheme

He invented it, a pyramid, a real estate scheme

Meet my daughter Muriel

She’s 21 years old

She’s living on the dole

She sings into a hairbrush and considers that a goal

Considers that a goal

Mimes into a mirror and considers that a goal

PERRY LAUGHS

P: Sings into her hairbrush!

And look at Perry there

Sitting on his derrière

The boy’s a modern marvel: He’s half arse and half chair

Half an arse and half a chair

179

He’s also on the dole he’s half an arse and half a chair

Look at this lot, look at this lot look at ‘em

This is what I got, this my lot, this lot

It grinds me down

To be around their kind

Sometimes I have to wonder if these kids are really mine

Ahh look at this lot

“I got a job interview next week. An apprentice locksmith”

“An apprentice locksmith? Oh that sounds lovely! Doesn’t it Bill?”

Too old for an apprentice!

I’d say that ship has sailed

Everything she’s done has failed

First she failed high school then she went right off the rails

She went right off the rails

She failed, she failed, she went right off the rails

So good father that I am

I paid to make it right

She didn’t even try

180

She did a secretary’s course - she couldn’t even type

She couldn’t even type!

I spent $10,000 dollars and she couldn’t even type

Look at this lot, look at this lot, look at ‘em

This is what I got, this is my lot, this lot

I was born with ambition

To conquer and discover

It’s just such a shame that they take after their mother

MURIEL: I couldn’t type why did they give me a secretarial diploma

B: Because I paid for it! It was practically a bribe!

BV: Practically a bribe!

BV: Practically a bribe!!

BILL: SHUTUP!!!! (MUSIC STOPS)

Now she sits at home like a dead weight, sleeping all day and getting arrested at weddings.

You’re all useless a useless bunch of no-hopers!

DIEDRE: Bill!

BILL: Diedre Chambers! What a coincidence!

181

DIEDRE: What a coincidence!

BILL: Deidre Chambers, Victor Kienosuke and his mate Akira. They’re all the way from

China. I mean Japan. Dierdre’s a sales representative for Radiant Cosmetics. etc ----

BILL and DIEDRE and BETTY scene --- can't see how this fits into either song

Then Can’t stop progress

182

“The Loneliness of a Parking Inspector” Lyrics.

The loneliness of a parking inspector

Protector of spaces

I make sure the rate race is running smoothly

But they just abuse me and pull faces

Everyone loves a fireman…(sigh)

BURLY GUY Hey, I was only...

BRICE: 3 seconds over your allotted maximum parking time in a central business zone

contravening Rule 236, statute 7AB YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT???

I know a girl who is gentle and kind

She’s got beautiful breasts and a beautiful mind

The loneliness of a parking inspector

Protector of spaces

I make sure the rate race is running smoothly

But they just abuse me and pull faces

Everyone loves a fireman…and...clowns

But all I get is frowns. No medals or applause

183

“Brice Man” Lyrics

I used to be so cautious

I used to be so stiff

Last week

Calm down Brice

Take it easy

Take a chill pill

Relax

Slow down

Look I got this covered

No girl wants to be smothered

I’m gonna stand back, make her want me

That’s the smart way to go

I’m calm, it’s easy

And I’m in control.

I’m the ice man

That’s just the way I roll

Cool, I’m frosty

And I don’t think twice, I’m the ice man

And I’m made of…Brice

184

(I’m so exposed)

Brice, you’re not a stupid guy

You know how the game goes

I wonder what she’s doing

God does she like me? As much as I like her

Txt her

Don’t txt her

Txt

See she sent me this t

How can I know

Gawd I am so exposed

I’m flapping about in the wind

I’m a raw nerve - an open wound

Only seeing her will fix it

Only having her will do

Only her complete and undying love!!!

Calm down Brice

Relax etc

A parking inspector

On patrol

I’m a guy in control

I stay frosty

185

I’m an ice man

that’s just the way I roll

Let me run through this again

I met her

Calm down Brice Ok

Take it easy Take a breath

Take a chill pill

Slow down

On patrol

Ice man (I’M MELTING!!!)

That’s just the way I roll OFF THE TRACKS! Over the edge!!! the wheels have come off!!!

The chickens flown the coop!! I can’t take it!! I’m itchy I can’t scratch it!!! I’ve flown into a storm!!

Okay okay okay okay okay okay

Sighs

How can I....make this better

Marry her

Chill out Brice, chill

Take a chill pill Brice

Put a sock in it

186

Always living

Like I’m in a cage

But now I’m going off-script!

At first I thought I’d play it cool

After all, I know how it goes

If you're overly keen in a way that shows

You only end up playing the fool

Then I find myself dancing

Like someone who’s

So I took myself off to the toilet

I said to the mirror play it cool Brice, play it cool

Next sing you know I’m thinking

The thing I am singing is the sing I am thinking like a tomcat and I am crooning I am telling

her I am one smitten kitten

Mariel3, I just met a lady

Then I ripped off her trousers like a monkey with a stiffy, then I tore down a model of

Sydney, and the man punched me in the kidneys, didn’t he?

3 The character Muriel Heslop changes her name to Mariel during the course of the narrative.

187

I woke up battered and bruised, got up fell in a swoon! I should’ve been gutted but I was over

the moon, powered Mariel fuel

Play it cool Brice play it cool

No one wants to be suffered and smothercated No one wants to be stifled, if you love someone then set them free, set them free and if they comeback----that’s it I'll ask her to marry me!!! That’s it I am going to propose to her then she will never leave me