During the commercial break

I was in the TV today. My pleasant duty, as a future television professional, is to watch as much  TV production as possible live. In bTV in particular, i must have been tens of times by now, yet the excitement from seeing the lit sets, the cameras, the musicians has gone down only a little since the first time. But you know what the odd thing is? Hand in hand with this excitement goes the comfort that I belong there; not today, maybe not even in a few years, but this is home. 

Tonight I was in bTV again, in Slavi's show which is the biggest evening talk show in Bulgaria. I don't watch it often, yet it is by far the best quality of production that you'll find. Magic happens... I get chills down my spine- the band sounds like they're playing at a live concert, a controversial, famous, charismatic and very tall figure comes down and the audience go wild with clapping. 


The first half went well, I incidentally saw Krassi Radkov, one of the actors, just as he was about to enter the set. I was so close that for the first time I saw all the make up, how and where the fake nose was attached, none of which is ever visible on the screen of course. 

Then, after 25 minutes, commercial break came. 

As the show is recorded 2 hours before, commercial breaks become a stretchy notion. The band and one of the singers started to play Maroon 5 to entertain the audience as make up artists were powdering Slavi's bald head, when Slavi interrupted with the categorical remark that the audience were bored with these songs and that the whole crew were there to entertain, not put to sleep an 80 people audience. Slavi then continued by describing the sogs they lately played with the adjective I'd never personally use-"gay"- and that maybe the band ought to sing a real "man's"song. He wanted to see the audience genuinely entertained, not idly clapping to what they were tired of hearing on the radio, but instead to be moved by songs which say something. To my biggest surprise & greatest pleasure, Slavi offered, as a symbol of a man's song, Frank Sinatra. What followed was a slight uncomfortable giggle on the part of the male singer who had just been criticised for his gay performance of silly radio songs. This I personally can only interpret as the nervous reaction to a request that he came out of his comfort zone to sing a song which bears some history, a song which has been given the gift of time and recognition. With the arrangement that there is only one Frank, it was a pleasant version we received tonight. Yet I was more wondering whether the reaction of the audience would match what Slavi had hoped and to my surprise and indeed fulfilling what I, and Slavi, had hoped, people cheered, clapped, whistled, sat up and smiled. In this country where chalga, club Biad, profanity and men with 3 inch penises but 30 inch biceps rule, I was speechless yet smiling ear to ear to see that the mass is still moved by a classical song. Simple, old-timer song by a guy with warm voice singing about the importance of doing one's life " my  way".