Ailsa's Blog: Meet Our Members: Denise Evans
A life in music and theatre
"Music is the language of the spirit. It opens the secret of life bringing peace, abolishing strife." - Kahlil Gibran
As a child, when there was music playing in the house, there was peace and happiness; music would literally bring harmony. It did not matter what kind of music it was; whether it was the Irish folk music that was my mother's heritage, or the New Orleans Jazz that my dad loved and collected all his life. For Mary Frances Byrne, the sounds of her native land, which she left behind at the age of fourteen would delight her. I remember her hopping from foot to foot to the strains of the jig, her laugh ringing out like a tinkling bell with the joy of it. For Terry Evans, his wonderful collection of New Orleans Jazz music on record, tape and later, CD, was a testament to his eclectic style, and his respect for all people and cultures in an age when this was not fashionable. My mother and father met at a time when there were still signs saying ‘No Blacks, No Dogs, No Irish' on B and B's and Hotels. Prejudice of all kinds was rampant. I found out later that much of their courtship involved going to jazz concerts together, and they met at a dance while Terry was still completing his national service.
There was classical music in abundance too - Holtz's The Planet Suite, Mozart's Requiem, Handel's Messiah, piano pieces by Chopin and Bach, Beethoven's concertos, as well as Elgar's great cello concerto played by the wonderful and passionate Jaqueline du Pre. We used to sing along to the songs of Simon and Garfunkel, The Beatles and Cat Stevens and later my sister and I would rock out to Top of the Pops - dancing to Mud, The Sweet, Slade, the Jackson 5 and later T Rex and Bowie. I loved singing in the school choir, playing the recorder, the violin and later the clarinet and the guitar. I sang solos regularly with the choir, and narrowly missed the opportunity to sing a solo with my school on TV for Songs of Praise, but to my horror, got an asthma attack on the day of filming. I sang solos at the Fairfield Halls in Croydon on several occasions, although I cannot now remember what the pieces were.
I fell in love with classical ballet when I tagged along with a friend to classes and then never left. It was not easy for my parents at the time to support this great love of mine, but they paid for my classes every week until I was old enough to get a Saturday job to help cover it. I devoured the great dance classics The Nutcracker, Swan Lake, Giselle, attempting to dance the solos from memory in the living room, along with folk dances like the polka and the tarantella, that were also an integral part of our dance training at the time. I secretly dreamed of being a ballerina when I grew up, and when I was offered the opportunity to audition for the Royal Ballet School, was utterly furious when my parents wouldn't let me go to London to try out. I was, of course, too young to leave home and board at a school in central London, even in the unlikely event of being successful in getting a place. They were, of course, completely right - but I didn't speak to them for weeks.
By the time I left school for university in Manchester, theatre, dance and music were both my heart and my refuge. My mother was starting to show fully the signs of the paranoid schizophrenia that would take over her life, and the strain on the family was palpable. I left for Manchester with a mixture of excitement and guilt, and surrounded myself with academia and art. I felt free, independent and utterly grown up. Manchester was a deliciously exciting place to be in 1980; it was the height of Factory records, the opening of The Hacienda, and there was a bursting theatre, literature, contemporary dance and music scene. I immersed myself in Motown, Moss Side reggae, making theatre and forging friendships, while at home my family was falling apart.
Forty-three years later, at my father's funeral, a New Orleans Jazz band played him to rest. Just a closer walk with thee, dear dad. I had the privilege of looking after them both in their final years in their own home. She had passed away in lockdown, and the funeral was, of necessity during Covid, very intimate and sad. Now, white horses carried him to his beautiful resting place with her, by the sea. It felt important that this celebration of his life needed to gloriously encompass them both, with friends and family at graveside and then the house afterwards. They did separate for a time, but it was temporary. The difficulties of her illness threatened to pull them apart, but their bond was inspiringly resolute and I am in awe of how they struggled through that together for sixty years. They are reunited again now, under the willows at Warblington.
Standing with me at his funeral were three of my dearest friends who became part of my life through music and theatre. George, my first love, now like a brother to me. We met at university, danced to reggae together, got youthfully drunk together, formed our first theatre company together, toured around Britain together, and recently I was Best Woman at his wedding. Whenever we meet, the house is full of music. Stu, my ex-husband, now like a brother to me; a crazy New Yorker with a heart of gold - the best blues guitarist I've ever seen. We met when he made music for the touring theatre company that we were part of together touring Europe, USA and the Middle East. He still lives in London, and he helped me move to Seaford. He loved my dad and inherited his music collection. And Tanushka, now my second sister, gifted theatre director, loyal friend, mother of two beautiful children who are my godchildren. Theatre and music brought these extraordinary friends into my life. They stood beside me at my father's graveside as they continue to stand with me in life.
Then there is all the music in between; the subtle, sensuous, soulful beats of reggae, the strident confident anarchy of punk. Singing the ancient call for the chorus' answer when playing Medea and leading the troupe onto outdoor stages in theatres in Cyprus, Greece and Albania. The dance tracks picked for the workouts when I was boxing; drumbeats to echo the beat of the heart when boxing the bag, skipping, running and executing countless burpees and press ups. Ah those were the days! And in that drive to achieve the peak of fighting fitness, the energy of the music was the only thing left pushing you on when the body had nothing left at all. As a teacher of young actors, the sparse beauty of an Arvo Part piece to accompany movement or to create a teaching moment, or an obscure piece of Einaudi for the atmosphere in a room for the start of an actor's workshop. Music that can cross the barriers of language, gender, class or age and go straight to the heart. Music for calm. Music for gravitas. Music for movement. Music for stillness. Music for irreverence. Music for fun. Music to forget pain. Music to dance with my godchildren. Music for life.
I come to Seaford after thirty-five years of acting, making theatre and touring all over the world. After twenty years of boxing, coaching and more recently, judging fights. After fourteen years of teaching and directing in the theatre. After five years of caring for my parents until their deaths. After thirteen years of living with rheumatoid arthritis, an unpleasant auto-immune nasty like MS for which there is no cure, but I have great self-inject meds which keeps the worst of the symptoms at bay and keeps me mobile and living life. This beautiful place feels like home at last after a lifetime of travelling. I love my small pretty house, and my little dog and I both love the sea and our garden which I am sure she thinks is entirely hers. I found the choir within weeks of arriving in Seaford and immediately felt welcome. Alison was the first person to speak to me, and her welcoming smiling energy encouraged me to stay. Since then, friendships have blossomed and I am honoured to count Rosa and Rowena among my friends. The feeling of making music together with this kind and supportive group of people is euphoric, beautiful and rather splendid. Veronica and John are insanely talented and a weekly inspiration. I feel blessed to be invited to be part of the committee and to be able to give back, for the joy that this group gives me each week. With thanks and gratitude. Long may the choir continue.
Denise Evans
Seaford 4th November 2025
