
Where could I start to explain to my travelling companion that she can sing? Like a children’s tale of an illusion that becomes real if you believe in it, her supposition that only certain members of our culture are singers has left her mute.
I did my best to explain to her that music is simply communication, and how silly would it be for her to say “I wish I could talk.” She then followed with the question “well, do you think I can learn to sound like I want to?”
I wasn’t going to lie to her. Probably not. Beverly Sills was born with an exquisite instrument, and spent her life studying, and perfecting her technique. I likened the situation to modeling. Might you look like Cindy Crawford with some lessons? No. Would you learn how to feel comfortable in front of a lens and express your own unique inner and outer beauty? Certainly.
And sounding like an ideal is only one aspect of singing. Bob Dylan’s revolutionary recordings didn’t sell because of his melliflous, dulcet vocal tone. He was expressing himself and reflecting truths about our world using his unique gruff sprechtstimmesque delivery.
This isn’t to say that every voice is destined to redefine pop music. My only point is that vocal tone is mearly one aspect of singing. We all look different, and we all sound different, but we all have something interesting to say, and music is one of the most powerful means of communication in our lives.
I’m troubled by the thoughts that mothers stifle themselves, robbing their infants of the sound of a soothing lullaby. I hate the idea that countless teens never consider pursuing music (or any other art) because someone’s voice is still ringing in their heads, telling them they’re not good.
And the notion that people have that they’re tone deaf? Please! To be tone deaf means that you can’t even distinguish between the rising tone at the end of a question as opposed to the falling tone at the end of a statement. People with this rare affliction are immediately noticible because they speak in a computer-like dull, single pitched speech. Have you ever heard anyone with this condition? I certainly haven’t.
It takes very little time for most people to learn to match pitch, and only a little more practice to sing basic scales and melodies. Of course not everyone is going to sound like Joan Baez right away - that’s like expecting someone to debate with Socrates shortly after learning the rudiments of spoken Greek.
Nonetheless, with very little practice - the kind that comes from a few lessons or a little while in a community choir - just about everyone is able to sing with a reasonable amount of control. Where the individual takes it from there is a matter of personal choice.
Aboriginal communities often join together in song and dance, with every member raising a voice to form the powerful, transformational sound of harmony. Singing is not about performing; many of these cultures don’t even have a word in their language meaning “performance” or “concert.” Music isn’t about one person singing and another listening; it’s about everyone within earshot participating. Singing is about sharing, connecting, releasing, feeling, and anything else that the singer wants to put into it - just like speech.
Human nature often prevails, and forces its way through the cracks in our society and clearly formed superegos like dandelions in the sidewalk. People sing in their cars, in their showers, while they’re cooking. Although it’s a guilty pleasure they exhibit only when alone, singing still manages to be a part of their lives.
I wish we could reach them all and erase their resigned self-judgements. We can’t, but I’m sure never again going to let someone get away with the statement “I wish I could sing!”