Sing, Sing, Sing!

Okay, you want to hear an embarrassing story?

Before I moved to Florida, back when I was in the seventh grade, I was in chorus. I don’t remember why. I never really liked singing but I liked acting in the school plays and I played some instruments so somehow I ended up in chorus.

One day, the “other” chorus teacher (you know how there are always two of every teacher? I never had the “right” one of any of them…) says there will be try-outs to sing for a school rock band. I like rock, so I sign up. I get to the try-outs and I’m nerding out. All the cool kids there, none of the chorus students. I may be in the wrong place… It comes my turn to sing and the teacher calls me into the room. There are several people in there and I don’t know any of them. I’m sweating, nervous and my brain thinks now would be a great time to maybe, pass out…

I swallow down the fear and step forward. The teacher says, “Okay, let’s hear a few bars of “Old Time Rock and Roll.” I wait. He waits.

“Whenever your ready.”

“Which song?”

“Old Time Rock and Roll”

“Just pick any one?”

He looks at me, puzzled and slightly annoyed. As if I was intentionally playing “Who’s on First” with him.

He plays the opening bars on the piano and it doesn’t help me. I have never heard that damn song in my life! It was 1982/83? I was into Rush, Quiet Riot, Twisted Sister and the Ramones. I hadn’t seen “Risky Business” yet. Somehow, that song just never entered my realm at that point.

He gives me the lyrics and plays the melody, I give it my best shot.

Never having heard it before, I had no idea to do the “rough and gruff” voice. I’m not sure I even could have if I had known. I was petrified and my brain was reminding me that passing out would have been a GREAT idea a few minutes ago… So out of my mouth comes a choral arrangement of “Old Time Rock and Roll.”

The people in the room smile (but thankfully they do NOT laugh) and the teacher just tilts his head. He thanks me for trying out but says I’m just not what they are looking for. I say thank you and I walk out.

I never heard anything about this again. No one laughed at me, no one found out and teased me, just any idea of me ever singing died in that room that day. Every time that song comes on the radio… I twitch…

I’m not sure anyone knows this story. And now I spill it here for your amusement. Why? Because I’m going to talk about singing and I think it’s important that you know right from the start that I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about…

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I can’t sing. I can’t judge singing. I can listen to someone like Whitney Houston and appreciate what everybody hears but the seamless and beautiful melody is far less important to me than the passion and power behind the voices.

Many of the bands I like have singers that aren’t the best vocalists in the world.  Just the other day I was driving home and singing along with “Five to One” and realized, as much as I love him, Morrison was way off on that track.  But that doesn’t diminish his power.  Hell, Henry Rollins just screams at me for three minutes at a time. I like Chris Barnes and Glen Benton but they’re not even really singers…

When I can hear passion and pain in the voice, that’s when I notice a singer. Music is not about the flawless execution of notes, it’s about feeling. I caught a lot of crap from a LOT of people back in the day about my love of punk. Those idiots may not be able to tune their guitars but they had something to say. Not every one who’s known for singing has something to say.

I hate American Idol.  It encourages mediocre talent to dream big.  They’re dreaming the wrong dream.  Winning 5 Stars from Ed McMahon isn’t all that great.  You want to sing?  Get the fuck out there and sing!  Dicking around on a stupid TV show isn’t making music, it’s making money.  Winning this lame talent search all but guarantees you a record contract and some instant popularity.  But have you actually listened to the majority of these “winners”?  Empty, dead, soulless vocals. An imitation of what I think music should be. But they stay on the air. People love to watch the abuse, wannabe singers love to think they’ll have a chance… one day…  Winning that show doesn’t mean you are any good, losing on that show doesn’t mean you’re not any good, it’s a talent processing machine not an actual certification of talent.

When Whitney Houston died, there were actually people asking which season of American Idol she was on… As if Idol was the be-all end-all judge of music. They’re the musical blender we should be railing against. Everyone who gets processed through that machine comes out the same: perfect, clean, popular and clutching their gold record. It’s like they sign a contract at the Crossroads only this intersection is well lit and corporately sponsored.  The contract reads; “Give up on music and I’ll make you a singer!”

Singing in the shower, playing a music-impersonation video game or even having a drink with friends at a karaoke bar is fun.  I’m sure there are some great singers out there languishing in the shadows but for the most part, if they haven’t been heard, they probably shouldn’t be.

Life is the same for most “artistic” occupations: Do it, don’t dream about it. Don’t sit around talking about it, do it. Don’t tell me about how “one day” you’re going to make it, get out there and show us!