This production remains most dear to my heart and was the start of my relationship with The Bridewell Theatre, which lasted up to its untimely closure in 2004.

In its time, this wonderful space had provided a home for both the neglected classics and the new wave of psychologically insightful musicals born of Sondheim's legacy. In a country that perceives musical theatre not only as a commercial, escapist, low-brow and relentlessly joyful medium but also a profession that perceives musical performers as second rate artists, the Bridewell sought to blow these myths apart by providing provocative and exciting theatre which gave actor-singers the parts that were much more layered than the dross of the back-catalogue musicals that endlessly demean the West End.

Floyd Collins certainly made me address and reassess what musicals could aspire to be. It is still to date the most challenging piece I have ever performed- vocally, physically and emotionally.

The vocal demands are huge and extreme. Ive always been your standard baritone without those 'money notes' at the top of my range that are the prerequisites of modern musical leads. Floyd required a baritone with a tenor top so I spent hours strengthening my forsetto (headvoice) and try and mix it into my chest voice.

The role is not only mammoth in size (the opening soliloquy lasts for over 12 minutes) but the yodelling means that the voice tires very quickly. (I remember when Adam Guettel first heard me sing The Call he said my yodelling was more Tyrolean than Appalachian- I had visions of playing Adam's farmer's son as his grandfather's lonely goatherd!)

As if these vocal demands weren't bad enough, the great anthem of the piece is a tour de force called How Glory Goes and this comes as Floyd's epiphany at the end of the piece when the body and voice are most tired.

The physical demands were tortuous. Floyd is literally trapped on the stage for the duration of the piece, my only respite was the flashback sequence in the Riddle Song. The set, designed by lovely Louise Belson, was a scaffolding structure which had to serve both the worlds above and below ground. As I was virtually stationary for 2 and a half hours the metal tubes were designed specifically to support my lower back and legs. Despite this 'bespoke' set, I still required a drip which ran along the scaffolding above my head which was attached to a bottle containing Ribena (for sugar) and mineral salts to offset the cramp.

Such 'hardships' were lessened by the support from the tremendous cast and staff. It is testament to the piece that every company member felt passionate about this bold piece of theatre and served it without ego and always with grace and enthusiasm.
I always thought that Floyd's story as told by Adam and Tina, was a spiritual journey and as Clive (the director) and I held diametrically opposing spiritual views, our talks were dynamic.

As far as the process I remember keeping an 'images book' full of pictures of horror and claustrophobia. I also based my mental decline in the piece on the alzheimers disease that my father was experiencing and the effects of my mother's stroke. Not so strangely I would sing How Glory Goes the following year at my father's funeral.

Floyd has a certain reputation in the profession founded on the fact that of those men who have played Floyd, half have lost or seriously damaged their voices and the others have had breakdowns. Well, about three days after Floyd finished I collapsed at home and didnt work for five months! And I would still do it all again. A wonderful time.