Hayley Westenra

by Hayley Westenra

  The offices of his company, the Really Useful Group, were just around the corner from our flat in Covent Garden. As we headed towards the building's front door, I knew that I really wanted to wow him with my singing. I was even more excited when Steve told Dad and me that I was auditioning for something that was top-secret. He didn't have a clue what it might be for, but the people from the Really Useful Group had told him that it was very urgent that Lord Lloyd-Webber (as he has been since 1997) see me on this particular day, although they were very fuzzy in the details of why speed was so necessary.

  The offices struck me as being very smart. I was shown through into the wooden-floored music room where a grand piano was positioned in the corner. Dad and Steve waited outside in an office area. There was no sign of Andrew Lloyd Webber. Instead, I was greeted by his musical director. I was beginning to feel even more nervous and confused because at that time I had no idea who this man was.

  'Let's sing through this piece here, then,' he said, passing me some music that I had never seen before: a new duet from the musical The Woman in White called 'I Believe My Heart'.

  I started to sing and, as I did so, all sorts of thoughts rushed through my mind. I was worried that the piece might be too high, too low, too this, too that – but it suited my voice well. I knew that I needed to look competent in front of Andrew Lloyd Webber and, because the piece was completely new to me, I had to read the music by sight as we went along. Andrew's colleague just played the accompaniment and let me carry the tune all by myself.

  I thanked my lucky stars that Mum and Dad had encouraged me to learn the violin and piano, since this was exactly the sort of occasion when all of those hours of practice came in handy. It's funny how you do some things in life and then give them up, but you still utilise the skills that you have learned along the way.

  I was feeling quietly confident that I was managing to hit the notes and then I heard this creak behind me and I just knew that it was Andrew Lloyd Webber.

  Oh boy, oh boy! I thought to myself. I could see a high note coming. 'Hayley, you'd better get that note!' I told myself, all the time singing my way towards it. 'I've done it! I got the note!'

  The pianist stopped playing and then Andrew Lloyd Webber shook my hand and introduced himself, although he needed to make absolutely no introduction to me, his biggest fan. He came across as quite a quiet and reserved man. He stood listening to me sing some more with his right-hand man accompanying me on piano.

  'Well, everything they say about you is true,' he said. I smiled, silently hoping that whoever 'they' were had said good things about me. Then he decided that he wanted to sit down at the piano to take over playing. He complimented me on my voice and I began to feel slightly more relaxed as I seemed to have passed the test so far – although, since he didn't say too much, I was still not entirely certain where I stood.

  'Have you sung much of my music?' he asked.

  'Oh, yes, since I was very small,' I replied.

  'What other songs of mine do you know?'

  I suggested 'Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again' and immediately regretted it. A wave of panic swept through me. Would I remember all the words? After all, it had been a long time since I had sung the song. He started playing and it was incredible. I managed to remember the words, thank goodness. It was just amazing having him at the piano and suddenly the song became so much more meaningful to me for some reason. I could tell that he was listening carefully and, at one point, he became quite teary-eyed, although I never knew why.

  'Beautiful,' he said. 'You can certainly sing.' He may not have said much, but what he did say was important to me. Those few positive words were very meaningful. Here I was, singing in front of one of my all-time musical heroes. I couldn't quite believe that it was happening to me.

  'What about "Pie Jesu"?' he asked. I told him that this was among the songs of his that I performed most often. I sang it all the way through.

  It was time to leave, and, as I said goodbye to Lord Lloyd-Webber, I got the idea that I had been given the job, although I still didn't know what the job was. I had already decided that I would do it, whatever it was, simply because Andrew Lloyd Webber was involved.

  Shortly afterwards, Steve was told, in the utmost secrecy that I would be performing for the Queen, President George W Bush and Prime Minister Tony Blair, after a dinner to be held at the American Ambassador's residence in Hyde Park. We knew that we had to keep my part in the concert completely quiet, so we developed our own code for talking about the event, describing it as 'the Barbecue', taking the letters BBQ from the words Blair, Bush and Queen. It meant that we could discuss the finer details of what was going on, without anybody else actually knowing what we were talking about.

  The big day was during the following week and I spent the morning rehearsing at the Really Useful Group offices. My fellow performers included two singers from Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical Bombay Dreams, who were going to sing 'How Many Stars'; an Irish singer, Shonagh Daly; and Kevin McKidd, with whom I was duetting on 'I Believe My Heart'. I also had a solo performance of 'Pie Jesu'.

  I had spent a few days considering what I should wear for such an auspicious occasion and, in the end, I chose a dress designed by Jenny Packham. She's a British designer whom I really like. She's become quite a big name recently. Her dresses were ideal for me, since they struck a perfect balance between being young and being classy. My choice for the 'Barbecue' was a lemon-coloured creation, with coloured beaded butterflies on it.

  For security reasons, only Lord Lloyd-Webber, the musical director and the artists were allowed to travel to the American Ambassador's residence. I left Steve and Dad waiting in Covent Garden. We all piled into a big black van. It felt as if we were on some sort of secret mission, since we had secret-service guys with us talking into their cuffs. We felt very special, although everyone admitted that their levels of nervousness were beginning to outweigh the general air of excitement.

  When we arrived at the gates, we drove through as many as six different checkpoints, with the van being checked outside and inside, and each of the individuals being examined closely. Eventually we arrived at the inner gates to the house, where we were checked once again.

  Of course, I had tons of luggage with me, as usual. I had wanted to be prepared, so I had packed my makeup, my hair stuff, a spare dress, spare shoes, a book to read and my laptop. It had not seemed an unreasonable amount when I had stuffed it all into my bag that morning, although now, as everyone else was forced to wait for the security guys to go through each item in detail, I realised that perhaps I might have travelled a little lighter.

  After what seemed like an eternity, we were ushered into a small side room to get ourselves ready. I was really nervous by now. Along with the Queen, George W Bush and Tony Blair were Prince Philip, Prince Charles, Condoleezza Rice and Colin Powell, as well as a host of other British and American dignitaries. It was probably the most powerful collection of people that I would ever perform in front of in my life. But it was not they who worried me one little bit. There was only one person whose presence was making me nervous.

  It was Andrew Lloyd Webber. You see, I was singing his songs and the last thing I wanted to do was to mess them up. I really wanted him to be impressed by me as a singer and I was far less worried about what George W Bush or Tony Blair thought. I reckoned that they would have other things on their minds and wouldn't be paying too much attention to the music. Andrew, on the other hand, would be listening to every note and would know instantly if anything went wrong.

  My turn eventually came to walk in through the doors to perform in front of the dinner guests. There were around fifty people sitting there and the room was not really big enough to hold them all when you factor a piano and performers into the equation, so I found myself almost brushing up against one of the guests. I was quaking in my shoes and it was quite possibly the most nervous I've ever felt before or since. The great man was there throughout, right in front of me, just to the l
eft. I scanned the room, trying to remain focused on singing, but it's impossible to be so in such a small space and not to notice the Queen, Prince Philip and Prince Charles.

  I was trying my hardest to focus on the back wall, but it was very strange having all of these familiar faces staring back from such a close proximity. President Bush was leaning back on his chair looking relaxed. He is a very charismatic man with a big presence. He spent the whole time looking appreciative with a smile on his face.

  I was worried about singing 'Pie Jesu', because it's a tough song with some pretty big vocal jumps in it. The key thing is not to form a complex about singing difficult songs. Once I've stumbled over a particular line, that stays with me for ever and I become paranoid about the song in question. But Tie Jesu' went fantastically for me on the night.

  After everyone had sung their solo pieces and their duets, we all sang 'No Matter What', which I had never previously realised was an Andrew Lloyd Webber song. It first came on to my musical radar when it was performed by the boy band, Boyzone. Mum will probably kill me for writing this, but she was a particularly big fan of theirs at the height of their fame.

  Afterwards, we waited in a line to meet each of the dignitaries. I didn't know at the time that Condoleezza Rice was a highly proficient piano player. Had I done so, I would have worried even more, because performing in front of anyone who I know has a musical ear makes me nervous. We all had our picture taken with President Bush; he had his arm around me. He was very warm and appreciative to everyone. At the end he turned to me and said, 'Your performance really capped off the evening. Well done – you have a great voice.'

  When Prince Charles came by, I reminded him that he had visited my primary school back home in Christchurch when I was six. 'Oh, really, did I?' he said, with a very genial smile. I reassured him that it was OK if he couldn't remember.

  Funnily enough, I had met the Queen three times in a fairly short period. I had already sung for her at the Royal Variety Show in Edinburgh, where I had performed a medley of 'Pokarekare Ana' (with Maori dancers) and 'Amazing Grace' (with bagpipes). Later in the week, I performed at the Remembrance Day concert at the Royal Albert Hall in London.

  In the line-up afterwards, she asked me, 'Didn't I see you earlier on this week?'

  'Yes, ma'am,' I replied. 'And I'm going to be singing for you again in a few days' time.

  At this point, I've a confession to make – something that I've never revealed before in any interview about this particular evening at the American Ambassador's place. I was determined to have a memento of the occasion and you will understand that I'm not entirely sure how a serviette embroidered with the little American Embassy symbol somehow came home with me in my bag. It's probably the naughtiest thing that I've ever done. Well, almost! When I visited the White House four years later, I was careful to ensure that I didn't repeat my misdemeanour. On this occasion, two sachets of sugar emblazoned with the presidential seal managed to find their way into my bag – one contained brown sugar and the other white. Can you believe they have their own sugar sachets?

  As we got ready to leave the Hyde Park, I was still more concerned about what Andrew Lloyd Weber thought of my performance than about any of the other high-flying guests. I had not spoken to him at this stage and I was still holding my breath when we were whisked off to dinner at the Wolsey, one of London's smartest restaurants. Dad and Steve met me at the door with a television crew from New Zealand who interviewed me about the evening. Dinner was all a bit of a blur for me. It was such an event and I was pretty relieved when it was all over. We were very well looked after in the restaurant, sitting at a table that overlooked the other diners – without question, the best seats in the place.

  At the very end of the meal, Andrew Lloyd Webber came up to me and congratulated me on my performance. 'In fact, I'm going to write a song for you,' he said.

  'Wow! Oh my gosh!' was all that I could stammer as a reply.

  When we arrived back at the flat, I phoned Mum in New Zealand to tell her about one of the most remarkable evenings of my life. I was on a major high with adrenalin pumping through me, as often happens after I've given a good performance at a big concert. When this happens, it's very fulfilling because I feel that I've made a connection with the audience. It feels as if I've done a good day's work.

  As I lay in bed that night, I had trouble sleeping. The events of the preceding few hours were still buzzing through my mind. It had not just been a good day's work: it had been an extraordinarily good day's work. And it had been made all the more special because I had gained the approval of Andrew Lloyd Webber, something that had been so important to me for so long.

  CHAPTER 9

  ODYSSEY

  The perceived wisdom in the music industry is that one of the toughest things for any artist who has had a successful debut album is to create a successful follow-up album. I know that Pure was in fact my third professional album, but it was my first for Decca, so that meant that, as far as everyone was concerned, my next album would be considered the follow-up.

  Initially, I found the process exciting because I was itching to get back into the recording studio to create something new, since it had been well over eighteen months since I had recorded Pure. One of the drawbacks about having an album that does well in a number of different territories around the world is that the artist has to spend a long time promoting that album, rather than getting on and making a new one.

  By this stage, I felt that I had moved up from the level I was at when I recorded Pure and I was excited about having the opportunity to prove myself in the studio once again. I had quite a few different ideas for the album and I wanted people to hear my new work and to feel that I had evolved both in terms of my technical ability as a singer and also in terms of my general presence as a performer.

  I'm very lucky that my voice is quite versatile and my musical tastes are quite varied. This does throw up some challenges, though, and, when it came to making my second album for Decca, I found it hard to know what musical direction I should be travelling in. That can make the process of creating an album quite a struggle. At that stage, I was still relatively young and I didn't want to restrict myself by finding that I had been put into a box by the music industry as the sort of artist who could do only this, or could never do that. I figured that further down the track I could make some more tightly themed albums.

  At the same time, I wanted my new album to sound complete. This was a tricky set of decisions for me and, looking back, I probably should have stuck to my guns a lot more, instead of being pulled in lots of different directions by various record companies around the world, each of whom wanted something slightly different for their particular market. I listened to the opinions of a lot of people about which songs I should be doing. That said, though, in no way do I regard the album as a mistake. If everything you do as an artist is perfect, then you will never grow. This new album was an accurate snapshot of me as a performer at the beginning of 2005.

  It's hard enough to choose songs for an album, but another conundrum that any artist has to consider very carefully is the question of what to call an album. I settled on Odyssey because, at the outset, I wanted to take the listener on a journey through different countries and through different moods. I, myself, had been on a massive journey all of my own – both literally, in terms of how far I had travelled from home, and also as a singer and a person. I wanted to share some sort of sense of that with the listeners.

  Emotionally, my journey had also been something of a roller-coaster ride. By now, I was used to coming off stage on a huge high and having people applauding me. Meeting the fans after the concerts was always a buzz and I was always in great spirits after each concert. Then, I would find myself back in a hotel room, not just in a strange city, but often in a strange country. I would start to miss everyone and would feel isolated. Some days I was exhausted and other days I was full of energy. I've come to realise now that this epitomises the life of an international
singer, but when I came to make Odyssey, everything had been happening so fast that I'm not sure that I had actually had time to sit down and rationalise this.

  I was still discovering and experimenting with lots of different styles of music. I had grown up listening to classical music and, as a child, I had both played and sung some of the better-known parts of the repertoire. But I really didn't know nearly as much about it as I wanted to and I was enjoying discovering new works by people I had never come across before. I was also discovering aspects of folk and pop music that I had never previously encountered. In the period between Pure and Odyssey, I spent a lot of my time travelling and so had the opportunity to listen to piles of great albums. I love music, full stop. But it was all getting kind of confusing because there were so many different styles that I found exciting and appealing.

  When I was growing up back in New Zealand, my musical influences had included the likes of Andrea Bocelli, Kathleen Battle, Vanessa Carlton, Alicia Keyes, Celine Dion, the boy band Backstreet Boys, the all-girl group B*witched and the Norwegian classical-crossover group Secret Garden. I even enjoyed contemporary classical compilation albums such as my favourite, panpipe-heavy Moods album, which I listened to while I was studying. The Spice Girls were another of my big loves. One afternoon at home, my next-door neighbours, Emma and Nicola Ritchie, joined Sophie and me in dressing up in denim shorts and little tops so that we could put on a Spice Girls concert. We knew all the words to the songs, although we made up our own moves. I was always Sporty Spice because I looked the most like her with my brown hair, but secretly I always wanted to be Baby Spice – that was always Sophie because she had blonde hair. I guess we were all into the idea of 'girl power', and the Spice Girls were, to an extent, all strong female role models for us young girls. Their ethos centred on the things that girls could achieve. They also recorded the most amazingly catchy songs. So, my CD collection was a pretty eclectic mix. I'm not sure that many other twelve-year-olds in Christchurch had a Spice Girls CD and an album by the soprano Kathleen Battle sitting side by side on a shelf in their bedrooms.