A thirty-minute lesson goes quickly. I decide that learning a melody is a poor use of this time; I should memorize the melody at home, and use the lesson time for "technique".
There is a lot of technique to acquire, and its acquisition is gradual and mysterious.
It's not just a case of "watch, listen and copy". You have to feel the technique before you can execute it.
Learning to sing is a good metaphor for learning to do anything new; for the challenge of transferring skill between expert and novice.
My teacher attempts to describe to me a process that for him is automatic because of his lifetime of performing. He reflects on what he does to produce a good sound. He describes the sensations he feels and the images he finds helpful as he sings. If my sound is not improving, he casts around for a different way to explain it.
“Keep your larynx in a speaking position”. “Think of a yawn”. “The sound is coming
out of my forehead, not out of my mouth”. “My eye sockets vibrate.” “Send your sound
through a coin-sized hole in the wall over here.” “Imagine a set of steps connected by a
pipe”.
At first, these instructions make no sense to me at all. They are coded messages. I don't understand what he means until I can do it. I can only focus on one instruction at a time. Only when I internalize one can I start to work on the next one. It's what I imagine it's like to juggle three balls and then have someone toss you a fourth one.
Gradually the pieces of the puzzle come together. Some of them become automatic. One by one, the various metaphors embed themselves in my subconscious, allowing me to concentrate less on producing the sound and more on how I perform the song.
I begin to share this new vocabulary. I develop a mental checklist; the ingredients of good singing. Wen I don’t sound good, I consult this checklist and ask myself “What am I not doing? I self-diagnose and begin to coin my own metaphors, for example “When I sing well, I feel like there is a big balloon inside me”.
I switch from rock standards to pop songs which are more challenging. I'm used to singing loudly. Singing softly isn't easy; it requires more control.
At the end of the year I summon the courage to enter myself in the AIMMS School of Rock Christmas Concert. I need a song to sing. There's one that I've been hearing over the past year; it's "History Repeating" by Shirley Bassey and the Propellerheads. I almost don't dare to suggest it (is it extremely audacious for me to attempt a Shirley Bassey song?), but when I do, Rohan says "Sure, give it a go".
I manage to buy a song book which contains "History Repeating" and includes a CD of backing tracks. Suddenly my task is made easier - I've got something to help me practise the song.
In the lead-up to the show, there is a schedule of rehearsals with the band, which consists of young teenage musicians from AIMMS. It feels quite weird being the lead singer of a Lilliput band, but I figure it is good practice for these kids to accompany a singer, and it's a good outing for me too. I decide to get over the awkwardness and get on with it.
The show is at the Governor Hindmarsh Hotel, where a lot of high-profile acts perform. It's kind of cool to be able to say you're "playing at the Gov". It's a large function room, and it's filled with family and friends of the performers. Standards vary widely and it's very non-threatening.
As I wait to go on stage, the kids see me in my sparkly, Shirley Bassey-style dress and start pointing excitedly. The song goes very well, and another year is over.
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