SINGING

Singing has always seemed to me the most perfect means of expression. It is so spontaneous... Since I cannot sing, I paint.

-Georgia O'Keefe

ps I can't paint either :(

I don’t think I’m being falsely modest when I say that of the many gifts that I have been lucky to have been granted, a fine singing voice is not amongst them. I have a limited range, no falsetto, a thin middle, a woofy bottom and a wiry top. I can’t hold harmonies, my vibrato is quick, narrow and goat-like (when it’s there at all) and I used to sing consistently sharp (though that problem has been fixed; I now sing flat). Despite these seemingly insurmountable flaws, I have always sung, whether people want me to or not. I grew up singing in choirs, and have been a member of several award-winning groups in Montreal. I even sang with the Montreal Symphony Chorus, with whom I was privileged to perform such masterworks as Beethoven’s Ninth, Stravinsky’s Symphony of Psalms and Orff’s Carmina Burana (and whether or not that particular work is a masterpiece is up for discussion). I’ve played leads in musicals, including Ché in Evita (note: the role was a bit beyond my abilities, and I wouldn’t have cast me, but I had fun, and an astonishing leading lady) and, in an Oh-My-God-Find-Me-A-Pair-Of-Size-Eleven-Pumps moment, Mrs. Lovett in Sweeney Todd. (note: One of my dearest and oldest friends, Kate was to have played Mrs. Lovett, but fell ill. She gave me the bra off her back, and 20 years later, I still have it. We took our first brave musical steps together, performing “As Time Goes By” at a choir dinner, complete with humorous props when we were 12. 27 years ago. She remains one of my chief inspirations).  But I have worked very hard and managed to fashion a workable polyester purse voice out of cow’s ears vocal cords. What helped more than anything is that my ex, rickyd, is an opera singer, and while playing piano for him, at some points almost daily, I learned about the intricacies of the human voice. And though it hasn’t really rubbed off as much as I would have liked, I sound better now than I ever have. Most recently, I've been performing on cruise ships with a trio.  Yes ladies and gentlemen, I’m being paid to sing. No one is more surprised than I.

To be frank, I would give anything to have a beautiful voice (cue the smoke and the satanic laughter), but my ambition and desires have always outstripped my ability (much like Maria Ewing. I probably sound better than her these days, poor thing). That hasn’t stopped me however. I can’t pass a mirror without grabbing a hairbrush microphone and belting out the final chorus of Being Alive or, more improbably, Old Man River.  I actively seek out karaoke bars, and in fact 20 years ago, used to bartend at one (recently, I was at a college bar in Ste. Anne’s on Karaoke night with some friends and sang Nothing Else Matters. I was an instant hero to a room full of 19 year-old boys. Thumbs up.) Simply said, I have become vocally fearless. I’ll try anything once. (One night on a ship, our band was doing Disco Night while our singer was sick, and I tried Play That Funky Music White Boy. It was going great until the lyric “Gonna take it higher now”, and my poor little voice, parched and already stretched to its’ limits, did not want to take it higher at all.  No amount of note modification or Monty Python falsetto was going to fix what was already a disaster in the making. Oh well, live and learn.). About 10 years ago, I renounced being a tenor, and have warmly embraced my baritonal reality. This has helped a lot. I’ve also discovered in the past few years that I have a gruff growly side to my voice, which allows me to belt out such classics as Mustang Sally, Born to be Wild and I Feel Good (which oddly enough, I can do pretty well).  

All this being said, I remain tremendously insecure about singing, and occasionally, fate kicks me in the nuts and I spiral into days of self-doubt and flagellation. I managed to get decent reviews when I played Ché lo these many many years ago. But a certain gentleman-reviewer who shall remain nameless (who nonetheless remains reviled in Montreal, years after his critic career ended) wrote that he couldn’t stay past the first 20 minutes of the show because my singing was so atrocious. At least he didn’t mention me by name. I was devastated (and I still occasionally get teeny butterflies when I think of it) but I’m a big boy, and I went on the following night and sang my ass off (probably a little sharp…). Another incident happened the other night. It was Rock and Roll night on the ms PS, so instead of our regular diet of cha-chas and waltzes, the mighty little trio was doing some Everly Brothers and Elvis. A sour old English gentleman came up to me between songs and asked us to play a waltz. I said fine. A modern waltz. I said of course. A waltz without singing. I said no problem. Because, he said, and I quote: “You really have a horrid little voice.” Well, that would have been fine if that had been that, but he went to the front office and complained for 20 minutes about how awful I was. He even came to our sets the next night to MAKE SURE I DIDN’T SING. I didn’t open my mouth for 3 days. That was 2 months ago, and I’ve gotten over it. Mostly. They say practice makes perfect. In my case, practice makes OK. 

I had a great night tonight. 2 sets in a full-ish lounge, with an enthusiastic crowd, shouting out requests, and responding with hardy applause. We ran the gamut from George Gershwin to Billy Joel. How fortuitous that I happened to record it ;)

I never felt I could ever do this song justice. I'm getting there. I hope...

I had another video, but it took forever to upload, so it'll have to wait until I get home. It was Joy to the World. Not the Xmas hymn.