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How to get in touch and stay in tune with your inner singer

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Sunday Nov 30 2008

MY NIECE Rosa, who is seven (nearly eight) wants to win the X-Factor. I have enormous respect for Rosa, she's already wiped the floor with me at Nintendo Brain Training, so she's clearly a smart kid. And so her ambition intrigued me.

"Why do you want to win the X-Factor?" I enquired.

"Because if you win the X-Factor, you can go to number one in America," she said.

"So you want to be a singer?"

"Yes."

"Why?" I wondered.

"Because singing is fun," she explained, patiently.

"Isn't it hard work?"

"Not as hard as loading dishwashers," she replied.I pondered this wisdom.

"But wouldn't you be shy?"

"No. Why would you be shy?" No reason, I suppose.

I had one more question.

"I know you like singing. But why do you like watching other people in a singing competition?"

"Because some of the people who go on it are really very funny," she said. "And some of them are very good."

I thanked her and let her get back to singing Abba songs. She had made an excellent point. Some people are very funny when they are singing, but the chances are they don't mean to be. The likelihood is that they think they are absolutely brilliant which is why they are entering the competition.

Now, I love to sing, I always have. I envy people who do it for a living, like Shane does. Because when you have to be the audience member all the time, (and I have been to more gigs than most people have had hot lattes) it gets to be like watching other people having sex or eating or trying on dresses. You know they are having more fun than you are and all you can do is watch.

So what stops me from singing? It's the fear of being one of the people that Rosa laughs at, the ones who think they can sing, but who can't. Because let's face it, unlike sex, which pretty much anyone can attempt without fear of ridicule, singing is something people only do if they are good at it. But how would you know if you were good or bad? How do I know that I am not an undiscovered talent, worthy of the X-Factor?

Over the years, Shane has heard me singing around the house and has assured me that I can sing. But he also tells me I am the most beautiful woman in the world, so I suspect he might be biased.

There was only one way to find out for sure. I decided to get a proper singing teacher to evaluate my chances.

Rachel Dempsey is a Dublin ethnomusicologist, a singer and also a singing teacher. She is quite the opposite of Simon Cowell, in that she believes that everyone can sing and indeed everyone should sing. She also believes that like me, most people consciously or unconsciously yearn to sing.

"Singing is good for us, physically, emotionally and spiritually," she insists. "It is the deepest expression of your soul. This is why singing is a birthright and everyone, regardless of talent and experience, should have the opportunity to sing for themselves and with others."

She agrees that people who are considered 'good' singers are asked to sing and others who 'can't' sing, have to just listen. But she has travelled all over the world, and seen other approaches to singing.

"In some cultures, learning to sing and singing collectively is as important and fundamental to growth and socialisation as learning to read and write is in our culture," she says.

Because of Rachel's beliefs, I feel safe with her. I feel certain that she will not make me cry or tell me I am rubbish, even if I can't hit the notes properly. And so it is with relative ease that we begin our first lesson, which starts with stretching the body and breathing into the belly. If you only breathe into your chest, it's not easy to sustain a sound. We moved on to making noises, first humming sounds and then 'Ah' sounds. I am instructed to unlock my knees and to drop my jaw and raise my soft palette, all of which I achieve.

Soon we are actually singing, improvising a kind of Amy Winehouse song, in which I make up a line and then she makes up a line and so on. So far she has not laughed at me once, but I find myself laughing at how much fun it all is.

On my second lesson, I am asked to sing an actual song. For years, I have wanted to sing an actual song, from beginning to end, but I have always been too lazy to learn one. Once, years ago, Shane got me to sing Fairytale Of New York on stage with The Pogues. Unfortunately, having watched his style, I copied him and got really drunk first. I was so drunk, I needed to have the lyrics in my hand. I couldn't hear a thing, above the noise of the band, so I simply screeched into the microphone, and made such a mess of the dancing that we fell over and landed in a heap on the stage. The audience laughed and clapped, but the band didn't. So it might be some time before I have the nerve to try Fairytale again, especially after seeing Sinead O'Connor do her version, which was so good nobody else could come close.

But there are other songs. I brought along a traditional ballad called Spancil Hill, which The Pogues also covered, and we had a go at that.

It's probably very easy, if you have been accepted as a 'good' singer all your life to open your mouth and actually start a song, unaccompanied and know how to hit the right notes.

For someone who isn't so sure, it can be scary. I certainly hit some weird ones, myself. But practice, it seems, makes things improve. And after a few more lessons, I not only know the words, but was able to sing Spancil Hill with Shane, from beginning to end, hitting all the right notes. And not only that, but I was able to sing the alphabet twice, all the way through, on one breath, where he could only do it once. He was impressed. I was impressed. I had not practiced even once, in between lessons, so who knows what might happen if I did?

One day soon, I might find myself joining him on stage. Or worse, in front of Simon Cowell.

The Pogues play the RDS on December 22