Waiting for Godot Showed That Simplicity Triumphs – It Gave Me Courage.

Until I was twelve years old, I studied in the French educational framework, where theatre meant classical French playwrights. Attending a play typically involved shows such as The Sound of Music or My Fair Lady. Then, a decision was made that I would switch to school in England. So, at age 13, I started at Westminster School. It was 1968, and my horizons expanded.

I went to see a school production of Waiting for Godot in French in a compact space with a modest platform, and I was sitting at the rear. In terms of music, I was pretty sophisticated – I already knew all the psychedelic music that had been emerging. I’d experienced the Mothers of Invention. I’d watched numerous performances. But I was unaware there was material of this kind. I quickly realized that, just like in music, there was a whole new world out there.

I am unsure how good the French was, but it wasn’t important what they were expressing. It was just so conceptual and lively, with a kind of built-up suspense. And then, of course, it all explodes with Pozzo and Lucky’s arrival. The show was put on 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 loved the idea that very little needed to occur, you know? That one thing happened and then it just goes on and then you have the little boy at the end explaining that Godot won’t be coming today. It addressed time and action and plot. Or the lack thereof.

We had been instructed all these rules about what drama was, but they were irrelevant here. I was deeply intrigued by the minimal action. Years afterward when I was producing music, I would attempt to transform them into something comparable. When a new instrument came in, I’d pull out other instruments and intentionally highlight them. So you clearly perceived that keyboard or that string instrument or whichever element. That sense of less is more … I grasped that with Godot.

And yet it possesses a narrative. It really does. I mean, they are fully realised characters. They are so alive, Vladimir and Estragon, in their mutual affection, like an long-term partners. I don’t know how my life would have evolved if I hadn’t gone that show. To that school and that play then. It just sparked a realization in me.

We were released on Saturday afternoons, and I began attending matinees at the theatre venue every time there was a new production. So you would see works by modern playwrights. But the entry point to all of this was Godot.

I have minimal memory of the performance itself, except I know that it was consistently engaging – it had me at the height of anticipation. What I learned is that there don’t have to be any constraints. It certainly shaped how I collaborated with the artists that I brought into Ze Records. I even had the musical group compose a track around “I Can’t Go On, I’ll Go On”. I just instructed them: “I want a song with that name.”

I think it boosted my confidence, too, because you should not fret about failure if you embrace Beckett’s worldview.