I love a survival story - particularly when people share about the challenges that they have had to overcome along the way.  So first things first…small beginnings…

 

Rewind to the early 1980’s.  Being born 6 weeks premature, the doctors told my parents that I would probably have lasting and extensive breathing difficulties.  They were convinced that I would refuse to eat and therefore my chances of survival were compromised!  So when I guzzled down that very first bottle of milk like my life depended on it, they were a bit surprised.  With a hearty appetite (that remains today) and a pair of bassoon-playing lungs that were destined to power through a long evening of Don Giovanni with no issues at all, I would be absolutely fine - and more than that…I thrived. 

 

I have always loved music.  Little did I know all those years ago just HOW important the world of music would become to me.  I remember a lady called Mary (good name) that visited my primary school when I was about 9 years old, to run a weekly drum and voice workshop.  I was hooked - I had found a whole new language that I understood!  I didn’t realise it at the time, but I was foundation building.  And that foundation has lasted. 

 

Growing up in the fens of Lincolnshire was the perfect place for ‘the introvert and creative.’  Music filled my time.  It was how I communicated - my dialogue of life.  Everything from driving through the local town with Massive Attack blaring through the stereo, to one day feeling a bit sad and writing some song lyrics on an envelope in the kitchen.  My relationship with music became essential - a necessity. 

 

I studied various instruments.  Being naturally rather shy, I often found myself out of my comfort zone and ‘swimming at the deep end.’  There were plenty of tears as I battled the complicated and baffling piece of wood that calls itself a bassoon.  Many nerve-wracking school assemblies, being pushed in front of 950 girls to play a bassoon solo as everyone walked in.  But with the encouragement (and finances!) from my parents, I persevered.  And do you know what?  I discovered that I was actually quite a competent ‘deep end’ swimmer…and later I would absolutely love the thrill of the stage!

 

Being backstage was my ‘comfy’ zone back then… I was in my element sitting in the orchestra pit and loved the team work and special comradeship with fellow musicians.  I musically directed my first shows in my teens and I still adore a stage musical now!  The ‘cheesier’ the better as far as I’m concerned.  Sitting in the audience I literally beam from ear to ear. 

 

Most musicians find themselves singing in various capacities throughout their musical education, so one day at University I thought I’d give singing lessons a go.  My singing teacher’s feedback was something like ‘Mary has a surprisingly large lung capacity to hold extraordinarily long notes!’  There you go Doctors…and thank you bassoon!  Meanwhile my jazz piano teacher was politely bearing with my less than inspiring attempts… so he gently re-directed me towards the wonder of the jazz vocal.  It was like a large piece of puzzle clicking into place… I had found my niche… and many successful singing years followed.

 

Now aged 40-something, I have my own little brood of 5 boys to direct and nurture and so a few years ago I prayed for some kind of project that would fit around my family life.  So when Anne-Marie approached me at church one Sunday and asked me if I could add some music to lyrics that she had written for a film script… and it was about chocolate… needless to say, it was a big ‘YES!’ 

 

And thus ‘A Rampage of Chocolate’ was born.  Writing these songs, I have been able to travel with each character on their journey through the story, choosing instruments and melodies that are unique to them.  What a privilege to be able to pull strength from my own life’s journey in order to tell someone else’s.  I hope that you enjoy our work - and as you follow Laura, as she navigates ‘life,’ maybe it will encourage you in YOUR story…and that great things come from small beginnings.