Singing
Thanks for everyone's support on my last post :D
This evening, I want to talk about something that isn't so very significant, and should be short, but has a long history. Sorry it's so long- but I'm posting this for me ;)
Mum always talks about how, when I was just a little baby, I had a big laugh. This was "cute," and, she says, she never tried to stop me laughing loudly.
When I was still a little girl, I loved to sing. I would sing along to all my Don Spencer and Peter Combe tapes, and I especially loved making up songs to sing to our geese. Unfortunately, my family used to laugh at my making up songs. Sure, I was a little girl, I'm sure it was cute; but I always wish that they'd seen this interest and encouraged it, instead of laughing at me.
For some reason, growing up, I kept having less-than-encouraging experiences with singing. I remember being in choir in primary school, and for some reason, I quit. In highschool, I joined the local Church Youth Group band, playing the clarinet. I soon decided that I wanted no more clarinet, and wanted to sing with them instead. They were as supportive as they could be, but my voice was deep and good for harmonies- my head voice was weak and hugely seperate from my strong chest voice. I never got solos, unless they were very deep.
I remember my mother telling me I was "not a singer." My friend's mother once mentioned to her how beautiful the "lower harmony" was, but I let my friend Michelle take the credit, when she said something like, "People always say that a chorus part sounds better when I join in." Truth be told, she is a soprano, and if anyone should be credited for a beautiful low harmony, it should have been me.
I did music theatre at school, and always got the deep, male roles. I still had the breath strength from playing clarinet, and singing in my chest voice was easy. I never played a pretty role, even though I wanted to. My mother once said that I seemed to do better singing "slow, sad, ballad-type songs," but still maintained I was not a singer. Nor a dancer, now that I think of it.
I joined school choir, did a stupid, embarrassing, but ultimately "who cares" thing: I didn't know the right way to leave the stage after a perfomance, so I walked a different way to everyone else- in front of the piano and after the conductor. Everyone else shuffled away behind the piano. Even writing this now makes me embarrassed: firstly, for the actual event; secondly, for being so embarrassed over one tiny thing. So I quit.
I got the nerve up to audition for the year 12 singing group, where I was placed as a mezzo, which was basically because I had a big range, and was capable of learning the more complicated parts. Listening to the recording, I could hear my voice being quite croaky or breathy in timbre.
The choir at my church somehow stopped.
At University, I was still intensley curious about singing. I read as many books as I could find in the library, I read up online. I tried recording myself. I still got involved in Musicals and Pantomimes. I got compliments on my lower voice, but I knew my upper range was letting me down. I mentioned to an acting class that I found it easy to sing in-character, because if my voice wasn't good, it was the character they were judging, not me.
Once, Mum heard me practicing for an audition, singing in my lower range, and she was actually suprised at how nice it was. I couldn't believe her, so I didn't.
I did, however, believe one thing I heard back from a theatre company- "You can sing lower than most tenors!" They treated me like a black woman, both in the slang, "...honey!" and that I was like a spectacle, with my deep voice. Still, I didn't get a part.
Pantomime, I adapted a little bit of the music, and made it better... I put it down to familiarity with church hymns.
Finally, I got the nerve to see a (expensive) singing teacher. He was good, but taught me to sing in a more classical style. I was more confident, I got a role in JCS, and made friends who were supportive: singer/actor/dancer types, who didn't think they were hot stuff, but loved performing. I'm still friends with them today, possibly the longest frienship I've had with any group within a cast.
But I stopped the lessons, because my teacher was telling me I "certainly wasn't an alto," (which I was willing to believe) and that my chest voice, the voice that everyone leved so much, was "not my real voice." So I was beautiful, but only when manufactured? Even my parents sat and listened to be practicing arias with a squashed larynx. My teacher was more a "coach" than a teacher.
So I went back to reading and listening to things on the internet. I sang along with the Isley Brothers and Prince. I found where my enjoyment of a particular singing style came from.
I moved back in with my parents. I went to church with them, and got comments on my "beautiful" singing.
A friend asked me to sing a song he'd written, a song he felt a lot about (in his own demos, it sounds like he's going to cry); he loved the way I sang it. Our friend who recorded it also likes my voice- when I sing louder, he says I have a "60's soul" sound, and when I sing quietly, he says it's very pretty.
Then, I discovered Fleetwood Mac, a band practically banned from my house, simply because one of my cousins liked them. My parents poo-hooed her interest in them. But I couldn't fight that I secretly loved these two songs by that croaky girl: "Landslide," and "Silver Springs." I decided I wanted to hear more. Here was a band who had a tenor and two altos singing. I loved Stevie's brassy country twang when I heard it, removed from all the other horror that destroys country music. I loved Lindsey's emotional belting. I especially loved, and found solace in, Christine's soothing, sultry, slippery voice; Christine, who sounded like Lindsey with a dampner. I sang along to all of them. I tried to discover why their voices worked. I learnt a lot from them, and if I ever had the chance to meet them, I'd thank them immensley.
So now I'm here. I sing along to "Go Your Own Way" on expert in Rock Band, and get 96% (Guitar Hero World Tour is another matter... no allowance for any musicality). A friend posts on her blog (she didn't know I read until then), saying how she was listening to us play, and I was an "awesome singer." At my birthday, pharaoh_katt tells me I'm good at lots of types of singing. I plainly sing a Prince song to Mum to explain it, she gets a stunned, hesitant look on her face, and tells me I have a lovely tone. My friend from uni wants me to sing with him...
And every time I get drunk, I want to burst into song. The urge is so great, I have to tell whoever I'm with. So they tell me to sing--
And suddenly, I'm frozen. Afraid of being judged. Afraid of being deemed a bad singer. Afraid that my expression was going to be... laughed at, again. I was going to be embarrassed again.
But I don't want to be paralysed any more.
I am free to express myself.
It is safe to sing.
My singing is beautiful and expressive.
My singing is beautiful because it is expressive.
I love singing, and it brings me joy.
Singing pleases me.
If my singing is disliked, it is not embarrasing, nor any judge of my worth.
Singing is a beautiful, safe, natural release.
There is no shame in mistakes; but if fear of shame stops me, that, itself, is a shame.
I am free to sing.
I am free to be a singer.
I am free to be a songbird :)
This evening, I want to talk about something that isn't so very significant, and should be short, but has a long history. Sorry it's so long- but I'm posting this for me ;)
Mum always talks about how, when I was just a little baby, I had a big laugh. This was "cute," and, she says, she never tried to stop me laughing loudly.
When I was still a little girl, I loved to sing. I would sing along to all my Don Spencer and Peter Combe tapes, and I especially loved making up songs to sing to our geese. Unfortunately, my family used to laugh at my making up songs. Sure, I was a little girl, I'm sure it was cute; but I always wish that they'd seen this interest and encouraged it, instead of laughing at me.
For some reason, growing up, I kept having less-than-encouraging experiences with singing. I remember being in choir in primary school, and for some reason, I quit. In highschool, I joined the local Church Youth Group band, playing the clarinet. I soon decided that I wanted no more clarinet, and wanted to sing with them instead. They were as supportive as they could be, but my voice was deep and good for harmonies- my head voice was weak and hugely seperate from my strong chest voice. I never got solos, unless they were very deep.
I remember my mother telling me I was "not a singer." My friend's mother once mentioned to her how beautiful the "lower harmony" was, but I let my friend Michelle take the credit, when she said something like, "People always say that a chorus part sounds better when I join in." Truth be told, she is a soprano, and if anyone should be credited for a beautiful low harmony, it should have been me.
I did music theatre at school, and always got the deep, male roles. I still had the breath strength from playing clarinet, and singing in my chest voice was easy. I never played a pretty role, even though I wanted to. My mother once said that I seemed to do better singing "slow, sad, ballad-type songs," but still maintained I was not a singer. Nor a dancer, now that I think of it.
I joined school choir, did a stupid, embarrassing, but ultimately "who cares" thing: I didn't know the right way to leave the stage after a perfomance, so I walked a different way to everyone else- in front of the piano and after the conductor. Everyone else shuffled away behind the piano. Even writing this now makes me embarrassed: firstly, for the actual event; secondly, for being so embarrassed over one tiny thing. So I quit.
I got the nerve up to audition for the year 12 singing group, where I was placed as a mezzo, which was basically because I had a big range, and was capable of learning the more complicated parts. Listening to the recording, I could hear my voice being quite croaky or breathy in timbre.
The choir at my church somehow stopped.
At University, I was still intensley curious about singing. I read as many books as I could find in the library, I read up online. I tried recording myself. I still got involved in Musicals and Pantomimes. I got compliments on my lower voice, but I knew my upper range was letting me down. I mentioned to an acting class that I found it easy to sing in-character, because if my voice wasn't good, it was the character they were judging, not me.
Once, Mum heard me practicing for an audition, singing in my lower range, and she was actually suprised at how nice it was. I couldn't believe her, so I didn't.
I did, however, believe one thing I heard back from a theatre company- "You can sing lower than most tenors!" They treated me like a black woman, both in the slang, "...honey!" and that I was like a spectacle, with my deep voice. Still, I didn't get a part.
Pantomime, I adapted a little bit of the music, and made it better... I put it down to familiarity with church hymns.
Finally, I got the nerve to see a (expensive) singing teacher. He was good, but taught me to sing in a more classical style. I was more confident, I got a role in JCS, and made friends who were supportive: singer/actor/dancer types, who didn't think they were hot stuff, but loved performing. I'm still friends with them today, possibly the longest frienship I've had with any group within a cast.
But I stopped the lessons, because my teacher was telling me I "certainly wasn't an alto," (which I was willing to believe) and that my chest voice, the voice that everyone leved so much, was "not my real voice." So I was beautiful, but only when manufactured? Even my parents sat and listened to be practicing arias with a squashed larynx. My teacher was more a "coach" than a teacher.
So I went back to reading and listening to things on the internet. I sang along with the Isley Brothers and Prince. I found where my enjoyment of a particular singing style came from.
I moved back in with my parents. I went to church with them, and got comments on my "beautiful" singing.
A friend asked me to sing a song he'd written, a song he felt a lot about (in his own demos, it sounds like he's going to cry); he loved the way I sang it. Our friend who recorded it also likes my voice- when I sing louder, he says I have a "60's soul" sound, and when I sing quietly, he says it's very pretty.
Then, I discovered Fleetwood Mac, a band practically banned from my house, simply because one of my cousins liked them. My parents poo-hooed her interest in them. But I couldn't fight that I secretly loved these two songs by that croaky girl: "Landslide," and "Silver Springs." I decided I wanted to hear more. Here was a band who had a tenor and two altos singing. I loved Stevie's brassy country twang when I heard it, removed from all the other horror that destroys country music. I loved Lindsey's emotional belting. I especially loved, and found solace in, Christine's soothing, sultry, slippery voice; Christine, who sounded like Lindsey with a dampner. I sang along to all of them. I tried to discover why their voices worked. I learnt a lot from them, and if I ever had the chance to meet them, I'd thank them immensley.
So now I'm here. I sing along to "Go Your Own Way" on expert in Rock Band, and get 96% (Guitar Hero World Tour is another matter... no allowance for any musicality). A friend posts on her blog (she didn't know I read until then), saying how she was listening to us play, and I was an "awesome singer." At my birthday, pharaoh_katt tells me I'm good at lots of types of singing. I plainly sing a Prince song to Mum to explain it, she gets a stunned, hesitant look on her face, and tells me I have a lovely tone. My friend from uni wants me to sing with him...
And every time I get drunk, I want to burst into song. The urge is so great, I have to tell whoever I'm with. So they tell me to sing--
And suddenly, I'm frozen. Afraid of being judged. Afraid of being deemed a bad singer. Afraid that my expression was going to be... laughed at, again. I was going to be embarrassed again.
But I don't want to be paralysed any more.
I am free to express myself.
It is safe to sing.
My singing is beautiful and expressive.
My singing is beautiful because it is expressive.
I love singing, and it brings me joy.
Singing pleases me.
If my singing is disliked, it is not embarrasing, nor any judge of my worth.
Singing is a beautiful, safe, natural release.
There is no shame in mistakes; but if fear of shame stops me, that, itself, is a shame.
I am free to sing.
I am free to be a singer.
I am free to be a songbird :)