The glimmer of an obsession

Returning to singing lessons after the summer break, I'm keen to see some quick progress.  During January I attended a short course on the voice - not a singing course, but how to use and care for the voice.  I learned some interesting stuff about breathing, some physical warm-up exercises, and some ways to loosen the jaw - something I really need to work on, as my jaw is very tight when I sing.

But when I start back at lessons, my voice will not behave.  I haven't been practising.  There haven't been any opportunities to perform since the Christmas concert.  It's been more than a month since I sang properly.  In the first couple of lessons I sing like a crook chook.

I am appalled at the way I sound.  I beat myself up.  Three years of lessons, and I still can't sing.  Why am I even doing this?  What was I thinking?

I am on the brink of giving up.

But at home, I am exploring my CD collection.  I'm listening more closely to songs I've previously played as background music, and matching them up with the songs in my various song books.

In particular I find I have quite a few recordings of Jobim songs.  Some of these songs are so sly, they have two names - one in Portuguese, one in English.  Some are instrumental versions without the lyrics.  Conversely, there are lyrics for songs I thought were purely instrumental.  Some jazz interpretations are are heavily disguised; barely recognizable, until a phrase "winks" at me.  Then the false moustache drops away and suddenly the song snaps into focus.  It's like taking ten steps back from an impressionist painting and seeing it glow.  Or staring into a "Magic Eye" picture until a 3D image appears.

I discover that I have several versions of some songs.  Each time I "crack" one, I feel triumphant.

Bossa Nova has a ruined reputation as "elevator music" - innocuous background sound.  But as I listen carefully and often, I pick up on subtleties; an intriguing chromatic progression; an inventive chord change; an agonzing little blue note.  It's like entering a new dimension.

I persevere with the singing, because I can't seem to stop.