Late Eighties
August 27th 2008 13:36
Try this annoying musical game.. Next time someone is singing, let them get into their groove and just when they get to the climax, cut in - early. Haha, Musical premature gesticulation! My family members are notorious for doing this which is really annoying when you're singing a Whitney Housten song. I digress.
As the eighties came to a close I had my first formal vocal training. For five years I had studied piano, on my mother's advice, which I am truly grateful for. I sang in a trio, mainly pretty Baroque music.
Music classes at school bored me to tears and I spent most of my time dreaming, talking and staring blankly at the whiteboard.
I had my ear pierced by a friend while watching Jason and Kylie sing "Especially for You". Excruciating and seared on my brain.
The year I turned fourteen I landed the lead in the community musical. I was a gospel singing churchmouse tempted by fame and fortune, who, in the end, realised it was all a lie. I had come to this conclusion in my own life and was beginning to be very cynical of famous singers.
Opening night. No shoes. I ran home and put my shoes on. As a hurried down the path to the auditorium I fell and smashed my two front teeth. Two of my friends saw this and stood still and silent as I spat pieces of tooth into my palm. I was hurried inside, and locked in the dressing room with the volunteer mothers. I took one look at myself and started to cry. They calmed me down by rubbing my feet and shoulders. The kids in the production heard what had happened and every time the door opened craned their necks to see the carnage. A local dentist happened to be there and came to have a gander. The crew contained the 70 kids back stage and my sister, who was playing guitar in the band, came for me. She took me to the darkened stage and told me my understudy and "friend" had said "Now's my big chance". She told me I could do this, I was so special and talented and I should show them. I went back and prepared. When I walked onstage 70 faces turned and stared straight at my mouth.. I looked even more like a mouse with my two sharp front teeth. I did it. I sang my little heart out and hit those high c's just like mum had told me. Think low, it's not high.
As the eighties came to a close I had my first formal vocal training. For five years I had studied piano, on my mother's advice, which I am truly grateful for. I sang in a trio, mainly pretty Baroque music.
Music classes at school bored me to tears and I spent most of my time dreaming, talking and staring blankly at the whiteboard.
The year I turned fourteen I landed the lead in the community musical. I was a gospel singing churchmouse tempted by fame and fortune, who, in the end, realised it was all a lie. I had come to this conclusion in my own life and was beginning to be very cynical of famous singers.
Opening night. No shoes. I ran home and put my shoes on. As a hurried down the path to the auditorium I fell and smashed my two front teeth. Two of my friends saw this and stood still and silent as I spat pieces of tooth into my palm. I was hurried inside, and locked in the dressing room with the volunteer mothers. I took one look at myself and started to cry. They calmed me down by rubbing my feet and shoulders. The kids in the production heard what had happened and every time the door opened craned their necks to see the carnage. A local dentist happened to be there and came to have a gander. The crew contained the 70 kids back stage and my sister, who was playing guitar in the band, came for me. She took me to the darkened stage and told me my understudy and "friend" had said "Now's my big chance". She told me I could do this, I was so special and talented and I should show them. I went back and prepared. When I walked onstage 70 faces turned and stared straight at my mouth.. I looked even more like a mouse with my two sharp front teeth. I did it. I sang my little heart out and hit those high c's just like mum had told me. Think low, it's not high.
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