By that point, I had started taking singing lessons. And after the first session, I mean, I was surprised that the windows didn't shatter. And after the third session, I really didn't know where this voice had come from.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
Starting out, I bet I didn't get a lot of parts because of my strange voice. I'm not consciously thinking, 'Hey, sound like a squeaky dog toy mixed with a bagful of rusty nails.' It's just what my voice has done.
It was early detection that saved my voice - and I imagine, my life.
When a music teacher that I had at school was taken ill and we had a variety show and I had to fill in - that's when I realized I had a voice.
It was hard for me to find my voice because I was, for so long, absorbed in my own world.
It was he who impressed, time and again, the necessity of singing as nature intended, and - I remember - he constantly warned, don't let the public know that you work. So I went slowly. I never forced the voice.
I must say that I always thought I had a voice, even when I was 4 years old.
I have a feeling that about 90% of my life has been shaped by my voice, both as an embarrassment and as an advantage. There was always the terrible incongruity of this deep voice barreling out of this little body. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was aware that it was ludicrous, that it took on an importance that wasn't really there.
I found my voice was a reaction to all that voice stuff.
I realized that there was much more to my voice than I'd ever been led to explore and that I could make my own songs.
My voice went recently, never happened before, off like a tap. I had to sit in silence for nine days, chalkboard around my neck. Like an old-school mime. Like a kid in the naughty corner. Like a Victorian mute.