Nice day today, despite a 7 o'clock start and a wait on a freezing provincial station to get into town. I've taken to walking from Kings Cross, through Bloomsbury and into the West End, partly because it helps my back (two collapsed discs - ouch) and partly because it's a nice walk and beats standing in a crowded tube train with two hundred depressed Londoners on their way to jobs they hate.
Today, I had several jobs for the new Virgin/NTL TV channel. 'Lets you watch what you want, when you want'. (these days, for me, I'm afraid that's nothing, most of the time). The first session was voicing a series of animated promos with a sort of nasal, suburban whiney lecturer voice. Great fun, and the studio was Trident in St Ann's Court, just off Wardour street. I've worked there quite a few times before, it's a basement studio now but used to be quite a large affair with a Bechstein grand piano. Bohemian Rhapsody was apparently recorded on the very spot where I was intoning the delights of the selection of programmes on channel 119. There are photos on the walls, next to album covers, detailing sessions and artists. The studio is also on the Beatles Trail, and many excitable Japanese Tourists come to have their photo taken where 'Hey Jude' was recorded in June 1968. One day, they'll be coming to pay homage to Virgin NTL's decision to use me and Rosie Cavellero to voice their on-air promotions in February 2007.
Two hours of that, and I'm off to Stephen Street to record some promos for Virgin, this time it's their programmes, rather than the channel itself. I get to show off my best smooth voice, my hard edged-American voice, my fresh-faced youthful voice and then leave.
At The Sound Company, I'm at a casting for a new cartoon. The writer/producers are there, along with Dave Peacock, and they want several characters from me. One of them is my arch-nemesis, the black gangsta rapper. I can do pretty much any voice people throw at me that's within my range, but I'm not black, never have been, never will be. I gave it my best shot, all the rhythms, cadences and ethnic charm I could muster. It wasn't as bad as thought it would be, and I think I got a lot of brownie points for even trying. The other characters were a lot easier. A Camp Northern bouncer, a drunk/drugged up rock star, a French (and very camp) second bouncer, and a particularly wonderful part as a completely insane punk rocker who simply shouts and swears for line after line. It was simply a string of invective. What a fantastic way to spend the afternoon. Rob Rackstraw was in the foyer, looking totally exhausted from his ski trip last week, and the session at the Groucho where he and Tony wrote the excuse slip for Jimmy Hibbert earlier in the week. That'll teach him to have more fun than anyone deserves.
Back to Stephen Street. This time, it was the promotional video for the launch of Virgin/NTL. I was, by coincidentally voicing over Rob Rackstraw, who did the test for it. What a small, incestuous world we inhabit. Sometimes.
A perfect voice over day.
I got home to a new shower unit, delivered today, despite having booked it for tomorrow. My poor mum had to cycle over to let the bloke scrape and push the huge boxes into my hallway. Not of interest to many people, I realise, but I've been waiting for this bloody thing for months. I haven't showered since October. One of the perks of being a voice over, no one gets to smell you. But it probably explains my complete lack of social engagements.
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