Joanna Eden on the dark power of negativity, singing at the Royal Albert Hall with Sam Smith and the art of successful failure
When I was born, my Mum’s friend - my Auntie Pam, Mum’s alter-ego; glamorous, dangerous, fleeting, intoxicating - did my star chart: I would be a musician. I would be good at it. I would be respected among my peers. I would never be a household name.
And, just like that, one word became the watch-word of my life. NEVER. There were other words. But NEVER is a very strong word and it won out.
When I was five my brother was given a piano and started lessons. I was captivated by the upright which towered above me, awe inspiring against the flaming red & gold flock wallpaper of our bungalow’s living room. I begged and begged for lessons too. I even gave up ballet lessons (they couldn’t afford both and being the gangliest in my class it was no loss to the ballet world). When I was six, MY lessons began. After my first lesson the teacher proclaimed “She’s musical. She has a good ear. But she’ll never be a concert pianist.”
There it was again. My word. NEVER.
And, my word! How that word has dominated my life, my career, my ability to focus, my energy for study, my attitude to ‘the business’ and my stance as an educator. There are positives. But that word has largely been a bit of a cross to bear.
On May 1st 2024 I received one of the unexpected, rare and wonderful pings on my phone when my darling ex-student, global star Sam Smith makes contact. ‘It would be an honour if you would sing with my at my prom”. What a beautiful soul they are. A very generous act. I am a professional performer. I have an audience. But - looking through the lense of scale, bums on seat, units sold, streams, likes - I operate on a very different scale to Sam. Sam has gold discs, Grammys, an Oscar even. Sam has teams. Management, marketing, staging, lighting, logistics, ad infinitum. I am my teams.
The predictions were true. I never did become a household name. I never did become a concert pianist. At six years old of course I had never heard of a concert pianist - but I had heard the NEVER and without knowing it, I allowed it to be my curse. NEVER destroyed other words I was learning. Words like hope, maybe, someday, and BELIEVE. Not just "believe you can be a concert pianist”; but “believe you can be anything”. My psyche took a one-size fits all approach and just let go of the whole kit and caboodle of belief.
That’s heavy stuff for a six year old. And a kind of low level depression set in. Another meaningless word for a six year old in the 1970s; depression. I just didn’t want to play the piano I had loved. But I did. But I hated it. I made mistakes. I hated myself for every one. I slammed the piano lid down onto my hands and watched them bruise; a punishment I deserved. For failing. What was the point anyway.
But I wasn’t just sad. I was furious. My precious music of no interest to anyone, no value? How could that be? That hurt so much!
And now I realise that I have been furious since they told me what I’d never be, never do, never achieve. It never came out as fury of course. I was a good a girl. Good girls do 'furious' in strange ways. It came out as a dogged determination to continue. To achieve something, some random goal. But grudgingly. Joylessly. To punish those around me with my apathy. I set myself a good girl’s goal. Not a goal that lit any fires inside me. A goal called 'Grade 8 Piano'.
On occasions I tentatively tried to reignite the wonder. I’d proudly played Love on the Rocks to my piano teacher. I’d learned the whole thing by ear. No help. Figured out the chords, the bass line, the melody from a memory of a few radio plays that passed my ears. “That’s nice” said my teacher who had no delight in Neil Diamond and even less for the voodoo that is ‘playing by ear’ “now let’s work on those scales”.
On the day of my Grade 8 piano exam. My Dad took me to Little Chef for my customary Knickerbocker Glory. My anual prize for passive perseverance in the face of sulky apathy. But this time I smiled and laughed for the first time after one of those exams. “Hooray!” I said “Now I never have to play the piano again!”
But of course I did. The wonder was there. Bruised, blooded, but still there. My friend, my music, my little fire still burned weakly. And somehow the flame’s kept burning. Through a music /drama degree, my college indie band, my songs on stages, on cassette demo tapes, on CDs, on myspace pages, facebook, insta, twitter, yada yada... My face on album covers, newspaper articles, posters.
But NEVER was always with me. My ball and chain dragging along behind, keeping a lid on the joy, keeping my horizons low, apologising for any hopes. I’ve always been the first to understand when a manager just can’t see me ‘doing the business’, when a promoter just can’t imagine ‘the bums on seats’. Of course! Silly me.
If you're thinking "what a wimp! Adversity is your test not silly words. Some people have it really tough, some people have actual, real, physical obstacles, and overcome them!" don't imagine for one second that I haven't admonished myself regularly with those words, and stronger.
But somehow, now, thirty years into this music life, this career. I’m still on the ride. I’m still making a living. My little flame still fanned by daily beautiful affirmations of my career choice. Messages, applause, gratitudes, even the occasional sale! Affirmations surround me. I am an affirmation billionaire! I am rich. Mostly. When I’m not feeling like an abject failure for fulfilling my destiny of NEVER.
NEVER I know now has tainted me. It’s like a lingering smell on me. Maybe only I can sense it. Maybe everyone can. But it’s there. And I’m still furious.
But Sam’s gift. My dream night, performing with them at the Royal Albert Hall. Something about that gift has shaken me up. Brought the pain to surface. The duality of achievement and failure live on stage. Both a reality.
I've sulked, I've cried, I've doom scrolled, I've avoided, I've bragged, I've been a bit of a mess. But now that it's done. (And it went beautifully - making music is and never has been the hard bit!) a wonderful thing has happened.
I think I’m ready to move forwards. I’m ready to scream out my fury and punch a few cushions and let go of my old destiny and jump into the unknown of the next chapter of my life FREE from NEVER!
"Never is a lie" I wanted to yell at the audience at the Royal Albert Hall, to the BBC Concert Orchestra waiting for my cue, to Sam (of course they know that already!)
And what is the truth?
I am a damn fine musician. I write, sing and play songs that move me to tears, make me dance, make me sing! I am an artist. My music impresses ME. I speak, sing and play MY truth.
And in one particular way, I am grateful to NEVER. Because it made me an inspirational teacher. I learned from a very early age that human beings can be hugely affected when just one important word is said to them. And I say a certain word honestly every time I hear a young person sing or play from the heart. When I see that little spark in their eyes. The pure love of music. Whatever their skills. If the spark is there I say and show that I BELIEVE in them. I know the power of disbelief. The stifling, strangling, numbing power. And I know it has an opposite. I know and see what people can achieve when they believe. Wonderful things happen. Not just to Sam but to many. Again and again!
The complete rejection of NEVER as a teacher has always been there in me. When something has been denied you and you know the pain of loss. When you know what doesn’t nurture a soul, you know what douses the fire, you learn the opposite. You learn what DOES work. You know how to fan the flames. And I do that! I always have. And Sam and many others fulfil themselves and go on to thank me for my belief in them.
Sam’s success gave me a platform. I sing to bigger and bigger audiences (maybe Friday night will stand out a little but the trajectory is good!) As a teacher I can bring my belief to many now. I run a free youth group in my town called THE GARDEN which I’m immensely proud of! They dazzle me every week! But I want to spread my belief further so I’ve created singing courses online to enable as many people as I can to believe.
My online Singing Club moto is ‘singing is your human right’. I’d go further to say that ‘music is our human right’.
And as for me and my music. I have a single out aptly called ‘The Kindness of a Friend’ following Sam’s beautiful gesture. I’m releasing my new album The Road to Paysandu very soon with my incredible band. I reject NEVER. I reclaim my right to make my music for me. And to believe in endless possibility. Not being a household name, certainly not being a concert pianist! Abstract concepts both! I claim the word BELIEVE on my terms. I believe in music!
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