by Tina Arena
Having had such a ball making Just Me, Sony’s reaction was a disappointing start. Nevertheless, they gave it their best shot and released ‘Soul Mate #9’ in September. I returned to Australia to do the usual promo stuff: instore signings, TV appearances, interviews and so on. The fans were as numerous, friendly and supportive as ever. But when it came to radio, I felt like I was in a time warp and it was 1994, when no metro station would play ‘Chains’.
Other things were challenging my plan to stay happy. Two years on, my divorce settlement seemed no closer to being finalised, with things becoming extremely protracted. Ann-Marie, who was back in Melbourne with a new baby, had been looking after it all on a day-to-day basis. But it now seemed like it would end up in court. The whole thing had become an incredibly expensive and heavy exercise, for both Ralph and myself.
And to top it off, Vince and I had called it quits. Now, ‘daring’ myself to be happy seemed like nothing more than a stupid joke.
CHAPTER 23
Symphony of Life
All my plans to be happy, follow my dreams, move on and enjoy life had fallen apart halfway through 2001. It seemed that in the end I just wasn’t ready for it. I guess I thought I was getting better only to find myself miserable again. So one day I woke up and looked at Vince and thought: I don’t deserve a man like this. He’s too good for me. I ended it, just like that. I think I actually said to him: ‘What are you doing with me? You could do so much better.’
Wrapped up in my misery, I genuinely didn’t know how to deal with a man who was so kind, gentle, generous and respectful. I felt like I was out of my depth, and I truly believed I didn’t deserve it. Have you ever heard of anything more pathetic?
The other thing in the back of my mind was the ongoing tussle with Ralph. With the divorce turning into a shit fight, I didn’t want to drag Vince through it. It wouldn’t have been fair.
Vince was hurt. He also thought I was nuts, and looking back, he was right. I was still a mess. Nothing is ever simple, least of all love, and getting my life back together was proving to be two steps forward, one step back. So we parted, although we promised to keep in touch.
In the end, I began to see more of Jeremy again. He’d always been there, a familiar friend I could rely on. And in October I brought him out to Australia, not long before the launch of Just Me. He was a trooper, escorting me to the ARIAs and the launch party. Whatever I had to do, he’d be there.
When Just Me came out in mid-November, ‘Soul Mate #9’ hadn’t made much of a dent in the charts, having had minimal airplay on radio following its release a month or so earlier. Just Me debuted at number 7 and went gold immediately, but compared to Don’t Ask and In Deep, sales were disappointing.
As you have probably gathered by now, the life of a singer is a lot like the Big Dipper at Luna Park. So, while I might have been chugging around a corner at the foot of a mountain at this point, suddenly I was atop a little rise with the news that, in the States, Pam Reswick, Steve Werfel and I had won a BMI songwriting award for ‘Burn’. (BMI stands for Broadcast Music Inc, which is an American performance rights organisation, like Australia’s APRA.) It was nice to be recognised over there for one of my songs. It had won thanks in part to Jo Dee Messina’s version, based on the number of times it had been played or performed that year.
In January ‘Dare You to be Happy’ was released as a single. With little airplay, it sank like a stone. A month later, Ann-Marie and I went shopping for clothes to wear to my divorce settlement, which was due to be heard in the Victorian Supreme Court. In the end, the case was settled out of court. The details of the settlement were confidential, but I felt that I’d lost much of what I had worked so hard for.
Nevertheless, it was a relief it was all over. At last I was truly free of the past. Free to be me. Free to move on.
One piece of good news around the time of my divorce settlement was that Nancy was pregnant. Mum, Dad, Silvana and I were thrilled when she told us. We Arena girls had been a bit slow when it came to motherhood, but at last one of us was taking the plunge. I was overjoyed for Nancy – she had a wonderful husband who loved her and soon she’d have a beautiful baby. It reminded me that happiness in a relationship was possible, and that sometimes you’ve got to get out there and grab it by the horns.
Another piece of news came through that also gave me a lift. My manager, Wendy Laister, rang to say she’d had a call from the management company IMG, wanting to know whether I’d be interested in playing the lead role of Sally Bowles in an Australian production of Cabaret based on Sam Mendes’ acclaimed 1993 Covent Garden revival, which later ran on Broadway for several years.
Wendy asked me what I thought.
‘Sure … maybe,’ I said. ‘I love Cabaret.’ I knew it well enough, being a fan of Liza Minnelli, who played Sally Bowles in the film. But Sally’s a complex character and I did wonder how they saw me in the role. I also wondered whether I’d be up to the task. Unlike Notre-Dame, Cabaret had a lot of spoken dialogue, which would be a huge challenge for a singer like me. I heard later that Toni Collette was originally slated for the role of Sally but had been unavailable. Hers would be big shoes to fill.
‘Great. Sam Mendes wants to meet you.’
I was speechless for a moment. ‘Pardon?’
‘He wants to meet you before they make a decision.’
I was ready to get my teeth into something new and now this opportunity had presented itself. And, having just finalised the divorce settlement, the thought of a regular income was appealing.
Soon I was on a plane bound for LA, my old stamping ground. Sam, who had shot to fame as the writer and director of American Beauty, which won a truckload of Oscars, BAFTAs and Golden Globes, was there working on his next film, Road to Perdition.
I met him at Fox Studios and we got chatting. Sam cross-examined me in a polite, relaxed fashion and seemed genuinely happy to meet me. I heard soon after that the gig was mine if I wanted it. In the end I could only do the Sydney shows, because I had commitments lined up in France later that year, including some live concerts.
Once I’d signed on, I found myself in New York being fitted for Sally’s famous corset. It had become synonymous with Sam’s production and I could see why. A stunning creation of intricate black lace, when teamed with thigh-high black boots and suspenders it was something of an attention grabber, to put it mildly. It would be a brave new look for Tina Arena, let alone Pina!
After a trip back to France to do some promotional stuff for ‘Tu Es Toujours Là’, I set up camp in Sydney by myself. Jeremy and I had well and truly gone our separate ways by then, so I was on my own. It gave me time to think, and anyway, I’d be so busy with the show there’d be no time for anything else.
Former soccer star Craig Johnston rented me his apartment. It had a stunning view of Woolloomooloo, but I barely saw it – once the show started, I virtually lived, ate and slept in my dressing-room at the State Theatre.
Cabaret is the story of Sally Bowles, an English cabaret performer, and her relationship with a young American writer called Cliff Bradshaw. Set in Berlin’s seedy Kit Kat Club in 1931 just as the Nazis are rising to power, it’s a dark tale of decadence and terror, of people living on the edge.
Every day I was becoming a little more Sally and a little less Tina. Sally was already a complex character, but in Sam’s production her complexities and idiosyncrasies were magnified. I could relate to her. Like me, she was resilient – an eternal optimist. Also like me at this point in my life, Sally wanted to be a performer on the one hand, while on the other, she wanted the white picket fence, two and a half kids and to live happily ever after. I could definitely empathise with that. But like Sally, I was no closer to achieving the latter. I was thirty-four and a single woman. I’d recently said goodbye to two good men, one because he was at a different stage in his life to me, and the other because I thought he was too good for me. There were no new prospects on the horizon. That’s just the way it was.
An American crew travelled out to stage the show, starting with the director, BT McNicholl, who had assisted Sam on the Broadway production. We rehearsed for weeks in the studios at NIDA in Sydney’s Kensington. The songs were challenging enough, but then there was the dancing and on top of that dialogue and acting. It stretched me in every way – it was incredibly challenging but wonderful, invigorating, exciting! I was working with brilliant actors – people such as Ian Stenlake, who played Cliff, Henri Szeps (Herr Schultz), Judi Connelli (Fräulein Schneider) and Nadine Garner (Fräulein Kost) – and I learnt an enormous amount from them all.
Ian and I, being lovers in the play, had to work closely together. Doing love scenes was a brand-new experience for me – there was quite a bit of pretend snogging involved –but thank god Ian was not only a total pro but an absolute darling. We laughed and laughed.
Opening night was 22 August. As the date approached I became more and more beside myself. Since I was a kid, every time I’d performed a song on stage I felt like I was taking a risk, that something might go wrong, that people would hate it, that I was exposing myself. But that was nothing compared to playing Sally Bowles, let alone in my own country. I think it would have been easier to do it in Paris or London. But in Australia, I knew the locals would be tough on me. I had no illusions – I was sticking my neck out in this role and just asking for my head to be lopped off. I was terrified.
In the end, things turned out okay, as they do. It was such a powerful production, and a brilliant cast and crew. After it was all over that first night I cried with relief. Mum and Dad had come up for the show and I fell into their arms.
Cabaret was the standard eight shows a week, so I never did see much of Craig Johnston’s lovely apartment. But I know Sydney’s State Theatre like the back of my hand, and still think of it as my second home.
While I trod the boards at the State, ‘Symphony of Life’ was released in Australia and France. This single got some traction and debuted at number 8 in Australia. That felt good – the song was a personal favourite. Every time I heard it I was reminded of Vince, although the feelings were bittersweet. I was beginning to realise that leaving him had been a big mistake and that I might never find myself in his arms again.
My final Cabaret performance was on 15 September. Just days later, Mum rang. Nancy had had her baby, a little girl they called Sofia. We were over the moon. Sofia was my family’s first grandchild and niece, so her arrival was particularly special for all of us.
I hopped on the first plane to Melbourne, but it didn’t get in until after 10 pm. I took a cab straight to the hospital. Walter had managed to butter up the nurses so they agreed to let me in. It was after 11 o’clock at night when I finally saw Nancy. There was Sofia, wide awake, wrapped up like a bug in a rug. She was like a little messenger, sent to remind us what was important in life. And with her bright eyes and head of dark hair, what a darling cupid she was!
I couldn’t stay in Australia to enjoy Sofia’s arrival for long, sadly. I was scheduled to play three concerts at the Olympia the following month – ‘Tu Es Toujours Là’ had charted well when it came out in France in February, and ‘Symphony of Life’ was getting plenty of airplay. Soon I was on a plane bound for Paris.
My Australian band flew over to accompany me. Once again they did me proud and we put on three cracking shows at my favourite French venue.
I stayed on in Paris to do promo. One evening, feeling at a bit of a loose end, I rang Vince. That wasn’t so out of the ordinary – as agreed, we’d kept in touch. Often we texted and occasionally we talked.
‘What are you doing tonight?’ he said after we’d chatted in our Franglish.
‘Not much. I’ve got something on between five and seven pm and then I’m done.’
‘Do you want to catch up?’ he said.
‘Sure.’ I hadn’t seen Vince in a year, probably. But we were still friends, and I had nothing else on. It would be great to see him – no, to be honest, I was dying to see him.
‘Where are you?’
I was staying at a gorgeous little hotel in the seventeenth arrondissement called Villa Alessandra. So I met him there.
As soon as he walked through the door I fell in love with him again. We gave each other a big hug and that was that. We ended up staying up until three o’clock in the morning, talking and talking, sometimes in French, sometimes in English. Vince’s English had improved since I’d seen him last, and my French was coming along too. Not that we’d ever had trouble communicating. Vince and I just seemed to understand each other, in any language.
It’s true that my life that year felt like a roller-coaster ride. Sally Bowles would have said it was a cabaret. But with Vince back in my life, it suddenly felt more like a symphony, in which highs and lows, beauty and pain, laughter and tears come together to create something powerful and beautiful, something lasting. A symphony of life.
CHAPTER 24
Never (Past Tense)
Vince and I had barely been apart since we fell into each other’s arms that night in Paris. I’d never really been able to get him out of my head. Now I realised that was because, in my heart of hearts, I knew he was the man for me (my soul mate number one!). I think he was coming around to that idea too.
When I wasn’t travelling we lived at my apartment in Fulham. Together, Vince and I were learning two languages – he English, I French. Learning French, really learning French, opened my heart and mind to a whole new world. Until then I’d felt like I was peering through a frosted window. Now, slowly, the window became clearer, until one day (it took a few years!) I realised I was no longer looking in – I was right there. I had to work at it, though. It was like going to uni – I listened carefully, made notes, practised. But it was worth it. Vince did the same thing, and being able to converse in the other’s language brought us even closer.
Valérie Michelin had suggested we record the Olympia shows with a view to releasing a live album. I thought it was great idea – I’d always wanted to do a live album. I love performing on stage and had always preferred my voice live to my voice in the studio. But there’d been a few obstacles. For one thing, the budget was tight, which meant there was virtually no money for post-production. We’d have to go with whatever we got from the front-of-house mixing desk. Thank god the engineer Chris Ridgway had golden hands!
Often vocals are redubbed later on live recordings, but the quality of the recording was so good (and the budget so tight) we kept the original live vocals. Valérie wanted a single for the album, and after much discussion we decided I’d record a duet in the studio with a gorgeous R & B singer called Jay. Previously a member of French boy band Poetic Lover, Jay has a stunning voice (later, Luc Plamondon cast him in his musical Cindy). The song was called ‘Je Te Retrouve un Peu’ (Little by Little I Find You).
It’s a charming song, but I also loved the video clip – shot in the streets of Paris, it was nothing more than me dressed in an overcoat just being me, and Jay looking handsome. I guess it helps when you have Paris as the backdrop, but in France I never felt any pressure to dress up (or down) like a pop star, or to show too much skin, or look a certain way. Simple and classic is their approach, which kept things uncomplicated for me.
It was true, that, over there, being Tina Arena sometimes felt easier. But at the same time, after so many years, I needed a break from her. Maybe, having found love, my focus was shifting. Whatever it was, I wanted to let go of it all a bit. So one day, when I was on the phone to Wendy, checking in, I said: ‘I’d love to be a guest vocalist on something, and not be “Tina Arena” for a change. I just want to do something different.’ I would have been happy if I’d been credited as Fanny Fedora.
Wendy put the word out. It turned out a New York outfit called the Roc Project, which was made up of DJ Ray Roc and singer Tina Novak, were looking for a vocalist for their song ‘Never (Past Tense)’. It was an odd situation: because Tina (now there’s a coincidence!) was signed to a different label to Ray, she wasn’t a
llowed to sing on the song.
Wendy asked me over the phone what I thought.
‘Well, what does the track sound like?’ I asked her.
‘I don’t know. I can’t tell.’
‘Send it to me.’
When I heard it, I loved it straight away. I’ve always liked dance music and it had smash written all over it: irresistible beat, irresistible hook line.
Ray flew over to London and we recorded the vocal and shot the video clip there. It was terrific to be part of something different, and refreshing to not be the main focus – Ray Roc was the focus, and the song even more so.
When ‘Never’ was released in April it quickly became a huge hit on dance floors around the world, and ended up being a top 5 hit on the Billboard dance charts. Then Dutch DJ Tiësto remixed it, and it featured regularly on Queer as Folk, a hugely popular American TV drama about five gay guys, based on the UK show of the same name. Tiësto’s version turned up on the soundtrack for season three of the show.
We included the song as a bonus CD with Vous Êtes Toujours Là (You Are Always There), which was the name of my first live album.
It had been two years since I’d written and recorded an English-language album and I was ready to get back into it. Things were tricky, though. Sony had slashed budgets – well, they’d slashed mine – so the budget allocated to writing was extremely tight. The fact was, Just Me had ended up being costly to make. Because we’d come off the back of two very successful albums, some big bucks had been thrown around. The album hadn’t recouped its costs, and two years later, the industry was on the slide.