I’m not a singer. Well, at least not a good one. Not even fair. I’d pretty much classify me in the one notch above rotten category—but I’ve never let that stop me from singing.
When I was young, I did what so many other little girls did in their bedroom. I’d hold my brush in my hand, pretending it was a microphone, and I’d sing my heart out to whatever song played on the radio, pretending to be talented and famous. I actually could stay on pitch back then, so I sang in my church’s choir, though never as a soloist. I played the piano and read music (obviously!), and my choir director would often have me sing with the tenors when we were learning a new song. My voice was pretty darn low, and the tenor guys could follow me and stumble along till they picked up their part. Once they had their harmony down, I could return to my alto comfort zone. Even as an adult, my voice is pretty low. I have trouble hitting high notes on any Adam Levine song.
I suppose playing the piano as I grew up gave me an appreciation for music. I’ve loved different genres over the years. My iPod is probably one of the most eclectic you’ve ever seen, with everything from Broadway show tunes to 70s rock to R&B to 21st century alternative bands.
Singing in the shower is always great because the acoustics make even the poorest singer seem spot on. I’ll also do a mixture of singing and humming while I cook. I’ve caught myself singing under my breath while out walking in the mornings.
But my favorite place to sing? Hands down, it’s in the car.
I don’t know what it is that makes that so much fun, but I love it when a cool song comes on the radio. I crank it up and sing along, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel. I used to carpool to work with a friend, and I still remember two occasions when we immediately stopped our conversation to belt out “Only the Good Die Young” and “American Pie.” Once the song was over, we grinned and picked up our conversation right where we left off without missing a beat. It was a sweet bonding experience.
I’m not a huge Madonna fan, but I absolutely love to sing “Like a Prayer.” Notice I don’t say “sing along with.” When that song comes on, I AM the lead singer. I guess I enjoy the feeling of having that gospel choir backs me up. My recent favs to sing along with in the car are Bastille’s “Pompeii” and One Republic’s “Counting Stars” and “When the Love is Gone.” It’s fun to know the words and hit every little key change. And with a good beat? I’m a goner.
I used to own a convertible and would turn up the music every time a great song came on. If it was top-down weather, that was a plus. Nowadays, I have a sun roof, so I enjoy having it open in nice weather. Today was one of those good days, as fall is slowly coming to Texas. And today, I got caught singing along.
I pulled up at a stoplight. No one was around me. And the new Fallout Boy song came on as I button punched. So yes, I started left foot tapping and head bobbing and wheel pumping, thoroughly enjoying myself.
And then another car pulled up. Unbeknownst to me. But then I had that eerie, ooh-somebody’s watching-me feeling. I glanced over and saw a guy chuckling at the show I was putting on. I grinned sheepishly. The light changed. I accelerated and hurriedly turned into Kroger a few blocks down.
So—I got caught enjoying myself. You know what? It was worth it!