in yet another example of insight and articulation, little light treats us to her musings on voices. this strikes a chord very close to home for me, having once considered myself a musician, singer, and songwriter (i now consider myself merely an instrument owner). i can’t count the hours i’ve spent playing music and singing, both by myself and in front of an audience, and even getting paid for it at times.

i pretty much stopped making music after i got married for the first time, back in 1986. when i moved into her apartment, there was no room for the hordes of equipment, and after my son was born, most of it had been sold off or disposed of. i felt that i had lost the compulsion to make music during those times. and i can remember after several years, feeling that something had been broken inside of me.

these days, i can play the guitar for about 90 seconds, and then the imprint of the strings on my fingertips become so deep, that i can no longer effectively hold the strings down against the frets. and the pain becomes too great.

and then, as little light so poignantly pronounces, there’s my singing voice. when i was a child, i was a true tenor. i have a distinct memory of second grade, when each member of the class got to go to the front of the class to sing their favorite song from oliver (the link goes to the specific album - vinyl in those days - we sang to). my favorite was “where is love”, and our teacher pointed out how much my singing voice was like that of keith hamshere. i believe that moment is one of my fondest memories.

of course, puberty changed all that as my voice settled into an upper baritone.

transition, especially for many older m2f’s, poses an especially difficult challenge when it comes to one’s voice. at first, i developed a breathy, higher pitched version of myself, which was moderately passible as a woman’s voice. working quite a bit on the phone in my job, helped me to refine it. but in the past few years, i grew tired of the effort, and for the most part, i simply used the voice that the goddess gave me. and virtually everyone i encounter in daily life doesn’t give it a second thought. over the phone, i get clocked maybe 50% of the time. though when i had a co-worker sitting with me doing call-listening, she commented on how much like a woman i sound on the phone, and wondered why half the people i spoke to thought i was a man.

i never sing though, at least where others can hear me. except for my husband. i can pull off a rather competent singing voice on specific tunes, but again, i just don’t feel like i want to put in the effort.

if you’re interested in hearing what my singing voice sounds like (or at least, what it sounded like in 1980 or there abouts), click here, here, here, or here.