Just sing...sing a song!

Such a beautiful, pure inspiring voice. Gone too soon.

For the past two and a half years, I have been taking singing lessons. No great allusions or delusions of becoming the next Janis Joplin, Karen Carpenter or Amy Winehouse. (Yikes! Why are so many of my favorite songstresses tragic figures who died untimely deaths?) Singing for me is therapeutic, a release of my inner diva, a form of self-expression. I have gotten more confident singing with the help of my instructor, L.

It’s funny. My husband told me that I need to sing louder. Why is that amusing? Because in real life, you could hear me coming a mile while I’m talking (well, at least half a mile) away. I do not exactly have a soft speaking voice. In fact, my students have often complained about THAT VOICE. I get animated when I speak. So when I yell (which yes, I do occasionally in school when it seems like nothing else will work), I know I can be heard a few doors down. I am not proud of that and continue to try to speak more gently. “Please don’t use your teacher’s voice,” I have often been told by my husband when we go outside. I know that is not just because it is loud but it also takes on a strong air of authority and a bit of “an edge,” as he says.

You know, you can spot a teacher just about anywhere. Just listen for the bossiest (or shall we say, most confident) and booming-est voice in the room, explaining step by step to somebody (anybody) what to do.

I always attribute my “above average” speaking volume that due to the fact that I grew up in a household where my father was deaf and often chose not to wear his hearing aid. “He’s tuning out again!” my mother would complain. “Tommy, can you hear me?” I’d often hum, with my dad (whose name actually was Tommy) in mind. Or maybe the fact that I was an only child I thought I had the right and power to boss everyone around. Boy, did I learn the hard way that did not work. Trust me, being the “Do this” kid with the “I want it now” Veruka Salt attitude around the schoolyard does not exactly help you win friends.

I often dream about singing Out Here On My Own in public and wowing 'em like Irene Cara!

I have actually dreamed of belting “Piece of My Heart” somewhere on a stage but doubt I can ever deliver with the power and conviction of Janis. I’ve also dreamed of sitting at the piano, pounding and belting “Maybe I’m Amazed” to a delighted audience. At this point, I can sing a few tunes like “White Rabbit” and “Different Drum” fairly decently and have no problem doing so in public. I have worked on the beautiful song, “Out Here On My Own” from Fame. I will never, ever be Irene Cara. But we have made some huge strides. I feel so connected to that song. Even at my age, I still wonder about where I’m going, if people like me and I have to remind myself to be strong and carry on. I made my students sing it at their graduation party last year. I hope they will always remember its message that we may not always get what we want, but we have to keep following our dreams! I admit I hope I can deliver this terrific tune as well as a couple of others someday outside the private room of a karaoke bar. Will keep on dreaming.

My voice still has some nasally qualities but my very patient instructor has been helping alleviate some of those “Fran Drescher-Nanny-like” tendencies, especially on my “E’s.” Learning good breathing techniques which are also useful to help one relax in everyday life, too. Trying to fill up my gut with air rather than just singing from my throat—which hurts. I have learned the difference between a head and chest voice and when to correctly use each one and how to transition from one into the other. Many times I become so relaxed during my singing lessons; I start yawning and have to sit down.

My singing teacher, L. is actually a very talented jazz vocalist who has released her own CD. She has a few private clients, teaches music in a special program with kids but spends most of her time now designing unique jewelry pieces. She has a calm, sunny disposition and a soothing way about her. In fact, we often begin our sessions with a general “shooting the breeze” discussion about what’s happening in our lives. L. is an extraordinary listener and incredibly empathetic. She will often let me kvetch and carry on about something that is bothering me. To be honest, these parts of our meetings are as helpful to me as the singing sections.

We tried learning how to play keyboard. Boy, do I regret not pursuing this as a kid. So much easier—just like acquiring a new language is so much easier when you’re twelve rather than 40. You also need to practice, practice, and practice. I have a keyboard at home yet choose not to do anything with it. Gave it a tiny “go” but sadly, just do not have the patience or attention span. (Remind me later to write a totally separate post about how my attention span and memory have faded with age). Since my husband is a musician, we have a mike and amp- at home, too. I will occasionally practice singing. But certainly don’t do enough of that, either. At least I am at the stage now where I won’t cry and just shudder a little when I hear my voice live.