Singing Is In My Blood

Singing is in my blood.

Three generations of women with, as my Gran would often say, a God given gift.

My Grandmother sang to audiences but remained unpaid, my Mother sang at The Royal Opera House.

I never had the pleasure of hearing my Grandmother’s voice as she died unexpectedly long before I was born, and the trauma of that event rendered my Mother voiceless for quite some time. In fact, it cut her career tragically short.

Our family has an old recording of my Mother singing at a wedding and even though the recording is scratchy and faint, her voice is GLORIOUS. When I first heard it, my Father, who isn’t one of life’s compliment givers, said “you should have heard her when she was still singing professionally…and I had the privilege of hearing that voice in my own home.” Praise, indeed.

As for me, I’ve dabbled in amateur performance, paid performance, choirs, hell I’ve even sung karaoke.

I never stuck with any of it though. The reason, aside from there being many beautiful voices other than mine out there, is that I’m just not a natural performer.

Most people would think that’s a ridiculous thing for me to suggest as I’m pretty lively and entertaining in a crowd. Or, as my Husband puts it “a bit of a show off”.

The thing is, when you sing, there’s nowhere to hide. You and you alone create the sound. You can’t blame a duff instrument if it all goes wrong, and that can feel pretty daunting (or mildly terrifying, depending on the size of your audience).

I believe that in order to be a true performer, you need to love the applause. To feed off it, to need it, for it to fulfil something that nothing else can, and I just don’t feel that way.

The reason that I sing is because I love how it feels. The physical sensation of opening my mouth and creating sound, to feel it resonate in my chest and head and find its way to every part of my body.

I love the sense of freedom that it brings and how empowering that is.

The music moves within me, and I’m gone; transported some place else, where nothing else matters, yet everything that matters is brought into sharp focus.

I feel unstoppable, and yet grounded. Utterly free and yet wholly connected to the universe. It’s how I imagine it would feel to be able to fly.

Singing also connects me to and honours the past. 

I sing to my Son, songs that my Mother sang to me and her Mother to her, and so, their voices are carried within me, and mine carried within my Son. They may no longer be heard, but are truly felt.

That, I believe, is the real gift. Not the sound I’m capable of creating, but the feelings that are stirred, created and unleashed simply by singing. 

We all have that gift. 

There’s a reason why people sing along to the radio and in the shower, it’s because it feels good. It doesn’t matter if it’s a beautiful sound or a tuneless noise, it’s a liberating experience and a way to connect with our emotional world in a way that little else can.

So, do it. Next time a song you love comes on the radio, let yourself go.

Don’t squander your gift, my friends. 

SING.

Viki Clegg

I’m a curly haired mamma, terrible loser at chess, lover of beards, believer in second chances, happy wife and an enthusiastic seeker of joy; happiest in my kitchen or garden.