Shops are buzzing for human stories , and actors Mark Taylor and Tim Draxl serve them up with warmth, wit and backstage colour. In this lively double profile, the pair talk roles, regret, guilty pleasures and the theatre friends and songs that keep them going , worth reading if you love performance, music or a good anecdote.

Essential Takeaways

  • Mark’s return: After a decade directing, Mark Taylor is back onstage in Once, tapping into familiar songwriter grief and delight.
  • Stage stories: Both actors share theatrical mishaps , split pants, onstage naps, and a missing costume , with self-deprecating charm.
  • Musical tastes: Taylor favours folk voices like Laura Marling and Glen Hansard; Draxl can’t resist show tunes and Afro-house beats.
  • LGBTQ+ affinity: Both men describe feeling comfortable and welcomed in queer arts spaces, with personal connections and past productions cited.
  • Practical notes: Taylor recommends a cheap, reliable local barber; Draxl counts a handmade pair of sunglasses as a treasured buy.

Mark Taylor’s comeback: why Once felt like destiny

Taylor’s voice cracks with honest emotion when he describes auditioning for Once and driving away in tears; the role of Guy unlocked a songwriting, grieving part of him that he’d kept stored. The detail of him living in a single room at his father’s place in his twenties gives the part texture , you can almost smell the reheated dinners and crumpled lyric sheets.

He shifted into directing for ten years, helming shows including Urinetown and Rent, but says acting never left his bones. According to the profile, Once was a bucket-list return, and that vulnerability shows onstage. If you’re considering a similar switch back to performing, Taylor’s experience is a reminder that muscle memory can outlast a career detour.

Sad songs and the science of mood: Taylor’s take on musical catharsis

Taylor admits he’s indulged sad songs , and finds the act both comforting and productive. He wonders aloud about the neuroscience: why do we gravitate to melancholic music when we feel low? He contrasts The Smiths with Kylie in a way that makes the question feel playful and real rather than academic.

This is part confession, part curiosity. For listeners picking tracks to shift mood, Taylor’s point is useful: what helps depends on whether you want to lean into feeling or pry yourself out of it. Try a short experiment , three tracks that match your mood, then three that oppose it , and see which actually helps you move on.

Nightlife, queer camaraderie and onstage memories

Both actors speak warmly about their place in LGBTQIA+ arts communities. Taylor recalls early productions with the Sydney Gay And Lesbian Choir and Midsumma work, noting the comfort and affinity he finds in those scenes. He also shares a human detail: his brother’s later-in-life coming out, a reminder of how personal and family histories weave into public lives.

They both enjoy queer nightlife touches , Taylor’s Poof Doof and Beresford anecdotes paint a picture of affectionate belonging. For readers, it’s a gentle nudge that arts communities often double as social support, especially in cities where creatives mingle after curtain call.

Mishaps and humour: the small disasters that make theatre human

If you love backstage lore, there’s gold here. Taylor has a closet of Gaffer-taped pants and the memory of splitting trousers during rehearsals. Draxl’s classic on-set snafu , an entire costume missing, forcing him through a show in the wrong outfit , had the cast howling. Then there’s the bizarre moment Draxl fell asleep on the toilet during a rehearsal curtain and needed waking to deliver a line.

These stories humanise the polished final product and are useful for anyone nervous about public slips: even pros have wardrobe crises and sleepy lapses, and they survive , often to a better story.

Little pleasures: music, grooming and guilty treats

Both men reveal delightfully specific loves. Taylor names Laura Marling and Glen Hansard as favourites and confesses to cheap, brilliant haircuts at a Preston barber for just twenty bucks. Draxl treasures handmade LGR sunglasses with a rich backstory and admits to tiramisu indulgences in Melbourne.

These small details land: they’re practical (seek a trusted, affordable barber), aspirational (buy a piece with a story), and relatable (yes, we all have a secret dessert vice). For readers, it’s permission to keep both kit and appetite simple but considered.

It's a small change that can make every performance and night out feel a touch more human.

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