Get Into The Light: Chapter Ten- Be Yourself and Take Some Advice from Bono

Saturday morning. Video day.

We waited for the hired mini-bus. We’d drive first to Leiden, then onto Schevinigen. I had no idea where these places were or what we were planning on doing once we arrived. My stomach had developed an unhealthy appetite for chewing on itself - the idea of standing in front of a camera was terrifying.
‘I feel like I’ll need to do something spectacular once the camera starts up.’
‘Just be yourself,’ Carl said stabbing his cigarette out in the ashtray, ‘Don’t try and start acting like Lynette or some dancer you’ve seen on TV. You’ll just end up looking stupid.’
Carl lit another cigarette. He’d been compulsively rolling cigarettes since dawn. He’d been to the toilet countless times. He’d eaten nothing. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead that he kept wiping with his sleeve. His trousers were pulled up too high so his ankles were on show. I realised that I used to like this but now it was starting to get on my nerves. Why didn’t he just get longer trousers and be done with it? I walked over and pulled the waist down so they looked a little better.
‘Are you nervous?’ I said.
‘I always hated doing videos,’ Carl said stubbing the cigarette out again, ‘Robert used to stand at the front and they always seemed to blur me out or only show me for two seconds like I was the Elephant Man or something. It made me paranoid. I kept using more and more dry shampoo so I could make my hair more noticeable and they couldn’t edit me out completely. But eventually Robert got these hair extensions or toupee or whatever you want to call it and it was like we were waging this battle in each video and our hair was getting more and more outlandish and out of control but neither of us would budge.’
‘He’s still got really big hair.’
‘Yes- at least I came back down to earth again but the dynamic is still pretty weird. You’re doing the video because you want people to listen to the music but you’re expected to be entertaining at the same time- to do something that makes you stand out and maybe you’re just not that kind of person. And maybe that makes you feel uncomfortable.’
‘So you make your hair big so you can hide behind it?’
‘Or you develop a whole other personality – that can be helpful. Just give yourself a name and it’s not Lola anymore. It’s just a temporary mask so you can act out.’
‘But you told me to be myself.’
‘Yes that’s right - that’s probably the best idea. Or think up a whole new persona- that's still an option I guess’
‘But how do you construct a whole new person? And what should I call this person – Do they eat toast crumbs off the floor? Do they like to squeeze cheese between their fingers and mould it into footballs? Do they like 'ET'?’
Carl went back into the bathroom shaking his head.
‘Don’t use the dry shampoo in there!’ I shouted.
I thought about this person. She'd move with ease. She'd never be stuck in a conversation. She'd rarely eat cheese. She'd be on a diet all the time. She'd be boring. No she'd be the opposite of boring. She'd always be at the centre of things. People would get their mouths ready for laughter before she even finished the punch line. They'd want to be her friend. She'd invent a whole new style of dancing too and people would make documentaries about it. I tried to imagine what that would look like.

The doorbell went. My stomach nibbled away at itself a wee more. The image of the woman disappeared. I realised that I really hated her - she was obnoxious.
‘Come on then,’ Carl said exiting the bathroom and picking up the sports bag full of all the things a dance star needs to be herself/be someone completely different.
‘How much stuff have you got in here?’ he muttered as he wrestled it down the wooden steps.
I took a deep breath and followed him down.

There was a guy sitting in the driving seat that I’d never seen before. It turned out it was one of Joost’s friends. His name was Tim. I couldn’t tell you anything else about him. Lynette was sitting in the front with Joost. I couldn’t tell you what she was wearing. My senses were slowly shutting down at the thought of the embarrassment to come. I did notice that Joost had a line of hair that grew down his back. It was vaguely creepy because the hairs weren’t consistent. There were one or two and then six in a bunch. I realised I’d discovered his one physical defect. This made me feel a little better.
‘So let’s pick up Eddie and Charles next?’ Tim said.
‘Is Forest coming?’ I asked.
‘No, he can’t make it,’ Carl said, ‘I should have told you earlier. He’s got a meeting with some other band he wants to sign.’

Scene One
Lynette is up to her waist in tulips. Lynette has briefed Joost so that she’s in the foreground of each shot. I’m twelve feet behind her and then Miss Ellen is made to lie in the dirt so she is near on invisible. I’m clutching bunches of fresh tulips. I don’t know what to do with them. How come people in music videos always know what to do? Shouldn’t Joost be giving us some type of instructions? Shouldn’t we have a choreographed routine? Surely 2Unlimited didn’t just stand about waiting for inspiration to arrive? An angry farmer appears behind Joost’s shoulder. Tim is holding a silver reflector screen which is making Lynette’s skin all luscious. The farmer appears to be armed with a shovel which he’s waving in the air.
‘Get in the van! The farmer is coming!’ Carl shouts frantically gesturing.
Carl has been extremely anxious since we left the flat. He is back in Secret Scribe, his artistic talent is being undermined by dark forces with big hair. He needs his dry shampoo but Lynette has only got a small can of hair mousse. He can see that Lynette is playing the exact same role as Robert but there isn’t much he can do. He’s told me to be myself or given me the option of being someone else. I’ve opted to stick with what I know rather than road-test a whole new identity for the first time. Eddie turns the tape deck off. Even at top volume it is impossible to hear the words so it barely makes a difference.
‘Get in the van!’ Carl shouts.
‘It’s okay Carl,’ Eddie says, ‘The guy’s walked off again.’
‘He wants to kill us,’ Carl says.
Carl’s mind seems to be playing tricks on him. Robert’s hair is growing over his face and it’s sucking his life force. The farmer is Robert’s hairdresser and is coming to sabotage Carl's bouffant.
‘AWWWWWW, my leg!’ I shout suddenly.
Something has crawled up there and bitten me at the top of my thigh. It might have been a crab except we’re nowhere near the sea. I shake the leg and something drops to the ground. It’s an ear of corn. I can’t see any corn anywhere. Only tulips. Where did it come from? There is a low snoring noise from behind. I walk over and see that Miss Ellen has fallen asleep. She looks like a small woodland animal. I want to protect her from this terrible experience.
‘Hello,’ I say.
She looks up at me with big brown eyes.
‘I got bored. No one could see me back here anyway,’ she said sitting up.
‘Don’t be silly. I could see you.’
‘You had your back to me,’ she said.
‘Well I could still see you when I turned around a bit.’
‘You need to loosen up a bit Lola. I’m not criticising or anything but you look really uncomfortable up there.’
‘I actually had an ear of corn stuck up my leg. It was REALLY UNCOMFORTABLE.’
‘Just try and be yourself.’

Enough with the Be Yourself SHIT. Isn’t it obvious that being myself is the problem? Joost walks over. He’s still holding the video camera in his arms. It doesn’t look like an impressive TV camera. It looks like it’s going to make a really rubbish video.
‘Guys, guys- what are you doing back here? We need to keep pressing on.’
Lynette is still swinging her head from side to side as if she’s experiencing the rapture. She is showing off. But at least she is being herself. The farmer reappears. He walks straight up to Joost because he’s the tallest and the one holding the camera. He tells him to stop filming. We haven’t got permission and we’re crushing his flowers.
‘He wants to kill us,’ Carl mouths behind his back.
I can’t tell if he’s joking or whether he really has gone into some terrible music video induced trauma.
‘He’s just telling us that we’re on his land isn’t he?’ Miss Ellen says.
‘He’s not Leatherface,’ I say as we clamber back into the van.
Joost hasn’t got enough footage. He certainly hasn’t got any footage of me being myself. My white platforms are covered in dirt.

‘I thought you would have asked the farmer’s permission before we went filming on his land?’ Carl shouted as we drove along the motorway.
Charles is eating a bag of cheese balls. Eddie is staring out the window. Lynette has plugged her headphones into the tape deck and is mouthing the words as we drive. She is waiting for me to chicken out and then she’ll step right in and take my place.
‘Don’t shout at him,’ Lynette said whipping her headphones off- she’d only been pretending to listen because she wanted people to think that she knew the words or perhaps she really did know the words? ‘It’s not his fault. It’s hers,’ she gestured at Miss Ellen, ‘She was squashing all those flowers. She was lying on top of them.’
‘He told me to lie down,’ Miss Ellen said pointing at Joost, ‘I’m wasting my time. I might as well not be here.’
‘The farmer had his own agenda,’ Carl said.
‘Stop going on about the farmer. What’s wrong? Is it the hair mousse? Is it something else?
‘Stop taking the piss out of my hair. I’m sick of it!’
It was the first time Carl had shouted at me in public. Tears immediately sprang into my eyes and I had to turn my head to the window so no one would see. Miss Ellen sighed. The sound of cheese balls being masticated filled the van. Carl shook his head.
‘Sorry- I didn’t mean to shout,’ he said leaning over and patting my shoulder.

We arrived in Schevinigen in the early evening. The wind was gusting at 500 miles per hour and it was deathly cold.
‘Now I’ve got these fisherman’s jackets for you and me to wear. Miss Ellie or whatever her name is will just wear whatever the hell she wants anyway’ Lynette said, ‘That’s why I said to Joost that she should lie down. She’s not even singing this song. I don’t know what she’s doing here.’
‘You’re not singing this song either,’ I said.
‘Neither are you,’ she replied, ‘You’re speaking.’
She was readying herself to take my place. It was obvious.

‘Right girls. I want Lynette at the front in this shot,’ Joost said, ‘Lola, you stand behind. Where’s Miss Ellen?’
‘Oh you actually want me standing up for this one?’ she said walking over from the van.
She shot me a look and shrugged. Her hair had been worked up into an impressive beehive. She looked better than Lynette and I put together.
‘We don’t need her in every shot, do we?’ Lynette whined, stroking Joost’s arm.
She stuck her bottom lip out. Joost went round the side of the van – he seemed to be speaking to Eddie and Charles. Tim appeared with the tape deck and smiled. He was a sweet boy but there was nothing he could do to make this a great video.
‘Whoever heard of a beehive in the 90s?’ Lynette whispered.
‘I think she looks great.’
‘She’s so arrogant,’ Lynette said, scraping her hair into the yellow fisherman’s hat.
She waved a hat in my face and gestured for me to put it on. I declined.
‘That’s the concept. We’re standing next to a lighthouse. We’re fishermen dancing and we’re conjuring up the sea spirits and welcoming them onto dry land.’
‘Hats always make me look like a homeless person.’
‘Right. I give up. I’m trying to inject some real creativity into this process but I’m working with a bunch of inexperienced amateurs!’
She turned her back and closed her eyes. She was going back into the rapture again -leaving us plebs behind.
‘Right Miss Ellen you stand next to Lola. Lynette, I want you to stand in the same spot – right next to others and then when I nod, you need to start dancing. Don’t just stand there like a bunch of scarecrows yeah?’ Joost said emerging from the side of the van.
‘And Carl- come and stand next to this bush. You need to mime like you’re playing some keyboards. Then I’ll do some cutaway shots of Eddie and Charles sitting down by those rocks with the wind blowing in their faces.’
‘Yeah just film me for three seconds. Then edit me out. Don’t worry,’ Carl said under his breath.

Scene Two…
Lynette’s hair is blowing seductively. She has good hair that caresses her cheeks and then falls back into place. Mine tends to stick in my mouth. I can see that she’s going to emerge from this experience with better footage. I try to lose myself. I think about the one or two times in my life when I’ve really felt out of control. I find it hard to remember what happened and how to replicate this feeling. I try. But in essence I’m just bending my knees a little more than usual. It will take a miracle to make me move naturally like Lynette. Joost tries to be kind and encouraging but I can see in his eyes that he’s worried I’m messing it up. Carl is sitting on a mossy heap and pretending to play keyboards. The wind is making his hair really big so he should be looking happy. Eddie is smoking a cigarette next to the van. Charles is wearing my fisherman’s hat and looking bemused on the sidelines. I can’t look at Miss Ellen because she’s a professional and this is all too mortifying. I’m trying to forget what she said about me looking uncomfortable but she’s right - I am.

‘Cut!’ Joost shouted.
Tim rushed forward and wrapped a towel around Lynette’s shoulders.
‘Don’t want you to catch cold now,’ he said.
Everyone treated Lynette like a star. Except I was the one speaking the lines. It suddenly made sense why there were so many dance acts fronted by models- session singers who’d been royally ripped off and replaced in the video by some anorexic in Lycra and bad hair extensions. It was all about looks. Being yourself was nonsense if you couldn’t dance or were a bit chubby.

‘Lola, I want one shot of you dancing on your own please,’ Joost said.
He was worried that he hadn’t got any good footage. He was right to be concerned. Unfortunately it wasn’t going to make the slightest of difference unless I suddenly metamorphosed into someone who wasn’t having a heated argument with different parts of their brain. Let go. No don’t let go. Come on- just relax. You can’t relax- you look weird. Be weird.
‘Guys can you come and stand over here so you’re in the background. I want everyone in the background and Lola you push yourself forward a little. Tim, can you shine the light into Lola’s face – that’s it and then let’s start the tape from the top,’ Joost said.
Let yourself be weird. Let go. But people are watching. People will think I’m weird. This is a music video. That’s the whole point. No one wants to watch a constipated English girl who looks like her Father’s just drowned out at sea.
‘Ok CUT!’ Joost shouted again after three minutes of torture where I bent my knees a little and propelled my arms round and round whilst Lynette smaned in the background. ‘We’ll get some better shots of you in the studio perhaps,’ Joost said with more than a twinge of exasperation in his voice. ‘Right let’s get the stuff in the van’.
All my life I’d wanted to be more than ordinary. I’d fantasised that people would notice me. I even told all my primary school friends that my Mum and Dad were Bjorn and Agnetha from Abba. And yet here I was, with all this opportunity and I was struck dumb and inert like a taxidermy owl.

I didn’t sleep well that night. Each turn of my head brought another image from the day until there was a veritable feast of images dancing past my eyes. I’d rather not have had the opportunity to mess it all up in the first place.

The next day we arrived at the studio at 6.30 in the morning. I had a terrible headache. Lynette was in good spirits. She’s probably seen some of the footage already. Joost had a love bite on his neck. I felt so childishly spiteful that I wanted to call Pete and tell him all about it. It was outrageous- this carry on between the two of them- acting like one of them wasn’t even in a relationship- even if that relationship was like a stubborn turd floating on the surface of the toilet, refusing to go down.
‘Get that pretty face into the dressing room,’ Joost said, ‘We’ve got a brain machine for you to wear today. I borrowed it from Forest. I thought perhaps you’d feel a little less self conscious. And who knows- maybe it’ll take you into a whole other world!’
‘Won’t I just look funny?’ I said.
Joost resisted the urge to tell me that it was impossible to look any funnier than I had the previous day. I felt slightly more relaxed despite the relative formality of the surroundings. Everyone wanted me to do well and Carl was being more supportive. Miss Ellen, Charles and Eddie hadn’t come to the studio because the whole objective was to get some footage of me miming along to the song that could actually be used. Lynette was simply choreographing and helping me shimmy outside my comfort zone a little.

Scene Three
I am standing on a box wearing the brain machine. I am swaying and my arms are picking up and folding invisible sheets. The brain machine makes me feel less self conscious. But it’s also hard to balance on a box when you can’t see anything but a series of pulsating lights. The music is loud. Lynette shouts instructions from the sidelines. Bend your legs. Relax your shoulders. Don’t round your back like an old lady. Push your chest out. Move. Sway. Dance! That was good. That was not so good. Think about the best night out you ever had. That’s it! You actually looked good there! I am on the brink of going out of control - like the club dancers, like the dancers in Zarzar, really responding to the music rather than locked inside the incessant internal blather but in reality I’m only making minor adjustments- a little bit more of a bend to the left, a small bit of arm swooping to the right.

‘The brain machine looked great,’ Joost said.
I tried not to take this as criticism but it was hard. Even with my eyes covered up, I could tell I was terrible.

When I got home I locked myself in the bathroom and cried. It seemed ridiculous that I was so stiff, uptight and concerned with what other people thought. I came from a liberal background - Mum had copies of Spare Rib all over the place and books on the shelves which encouraged you to converse with your vagina. Dad listened to Cream at full pelt and had hair that went down to his shoulders that he sometimes (when he was working) wore in two plaits on top of his head. I’d never been baptised or schooled in a nunnery or told that dancing was the work of the devil and yet there was a constant voice in my head that kept saying - ‘You’re just being a bit too silly now aren’t you?’ and it was obvious that none of the truly iconic performers had the same types of niggles. Bono didn’t stride out on stage and worry that his thighs looked too fat in his leather breeches. He didn’t feel that it was criminal to stick your neck out. Or perhaps he did but just hid it underneath those enormous glasses. Or was I just being negative? Perhaps this was the whole problem. Perhaps I was underestimating my talents. Perhaps the slow shuffle/looking at the floor would become part of an alluring stage act- something that really set the band apart from all the other dance acts and their nymphomaniacs by numbers. Perhaps it would provide a refreshing antidote to all the libidinous models trying to frug themselves to death in front of the cameras. Perhaps the video would be one of those videos they’d show in twenty years time. It would still be considered cutting edge – a piece of art that set up a new way of doing things- something truly authentic - we weren’t trying to be something pleasing - we were just being ourselves- we each had our own personalities and refused to play up to the stereotypes.

Perhaps it would win awards and we’d laugh when we thought back to how we froze to death next to the lighthouse and Lynette and Miss Ellen fought all day and Carl had an anxiety crisis and I ended up crying on the toilet all night.

Or perhaps not.