Quote

My voice has been very, very produced, and very treated - but then, also, it hasn't.

I know how to treat my voice to make it sound as good as it possibly can - which is still not that good.

My voice had a long, nonstop career. It deserves to be put to bed with quiet and dignity, not yanked out every once in a while to see if it can still do what it used to do. It can't.

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.

Apart from a period of crisis during my adolescence, when my voice was changing and I could not tame it - it was like a kicking foal that does not listen to reason - I have always been told I have a pleasant and recognizable voice.

The amazing thing now is that most of those so-called critics who were telling me to find my own voice seem to have lost theirs.

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 mean, my voice has gotten a little deeper sounding as I've gotten older, I think. I noticed that.

I used to hate the sound of my voice.

My voice sucks. I don't like the tone.