Until I was twelve years old, I studied in the French educational framework, where theatre meant classical French playwrights. Attending a play usually meant productions like The Sound of Music or My Fair Lady. Then, it was decided that I would transfer to an English school. So, at thirteen, I started at Westminster School. It was 1968, and my horizons expanded.
I went to see a school production of Waiting for Godot performed in French in a small room with a little stage, and I sat at the back. Musically, I was pretty sophisticated – I already knew all the psychedelic music that had been happening. I’d experienced the Mothers of Invention. I’d watched numerous performances. But I was unaware there was stuff like this. I suddenly became aware that, just like in music, there was a completely different realm out there.
I am unsure how good the French was, but it wasn’t important what they were expressing. It was just so abstract and vibrant, with a kind of built-up suspense. And then, naturally, it erupts with the entrance of Pozzo and Lucky. The show was staged by older boys, including Nigel Planer as Lucky. He was a commanding figure on stage. And he must perform that extraordinarily baroque monologue. In French. It was amazing.
I was captivated by the notion that very little needed to occur, you know? That one thing happened and then it continues endlessly and then you have the little boy at the end stating that Godot is not arriving today. It spoke about temporality and activity and plot. Or their absence.
We had been taught all these rules about what theatre was, but none of them applied here. I was absolutely fascinated by how little was going on. Much later when I was producing music, I would try to turn them into something comparable. When a fresh sound came in, I’d pull out other instruments and deliberately isolate them. So you really heard that keyboard or that string instrument or whichever element. That idea of minimalism … I learned that with Godot.
And yet it possesses a narrative. It really does. I mean, they are fully realised characters. They are so alive, the two protagonists, in their mutual affection, like an long-term partners. I don’t know how my life would have evolved if I did not attend that performance. To that institution and that show then. It just sparked a realization in me.
We were released on Saturday afternoons, and I began attending matinees at the Royal Court every time there was a fresh staging. So you would see Pinter, John Osborne, Simon Gray plays. But the gateway to all of this was Godot.
I have minimal memory of the actual show, except I know that it was never boring – it had me at the edge of my seat. What I learned is that there don’t have to be any rules. It definitely influenced how I worked with the bands that I signed to my label. I even had the musical group write a song around that famous phrase. I just told them: “I want a song with that name.”
I think it boosted my confidence, too, because you don’t need to worry about failure if you embrace the playwright’s philosophy.
