Music and Me, part 3

One final note (heh) on music, kind of as an epilogue to what I wrote a few weeks ago

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The other day I was listening to a podcast by one of my favorite, tragically geeky bands, They Might Be Giants. I thought I'd heard most of their music, even from the (relatively few) albums I don't own, but then a song came on that I'd never heard before that stopped me in my tracks:

How Can I Sing Like a Girl?

Now, it should be said that over the years the Johns (as they call themselves: John Linnel and John Flansburgh) have been incredibly prolific and have produced a huge catalog of music, not all of which has made it onto an album. (there are at least two blogs that I know of that are posting regular updates highlighting some of its weirder corners). In reading these blogs and listening to this podcast, it occurred to me for the first time that they actually sing quite a bit about gender issues! One more reason to like them. :)

Alone in the Universe?

I recently saw a great middle school production of Seussical the Musical, and was really touched by a couple of the songs. One of my many girlish traits has always been that stuff like this makes my cry, and this show was no exception.

The main story is about Horton the elephant trying to save the tiny Whos, who live on a dust speck on a clover blossom. Only he, with his enormous ears, can hear their cries, and only he, with his enormous heart, dedicates himself to helping them find a safe haven -- in spite of the mocking, scorn, and even threats of harm that everyone else in the jungle heap upon him. The other main character, Jojo, is one of the Whos down in Whoville that also feels like an outcast because he sees things differently than everyone else. The play weaves their two tales together, and becomes this amazing story of how love, friendship, and understanding can give us all hope.

There's one song in particular, where Horton and Jojo both feel alone and outcast, then find each other -- a kindred voice in the darkness that understands exactly what they're feeling, and lets them both know that they're not alone, as long as they have each other. This in spite of the fact that they may never actually meet in real life, due to being literally worlds apart. The song really jumped out at me in bright neon letters 3 stories tall; what better metaphor for what I've experienced in the past few months, thinking myself alone as a transgendered husband and father, then discovering amazing friends that are feeling and experiencing much, if not exactly, the same things! Wow:

To my new trans Mormon friends, who let me know that I am not alone: thank you!

And to anyone else out there reading my blog: you're not alone in the universe, either! We're out here, trying to make our voices heard in whatever small way we can, hoping we can make a difference in each others' lives. And by that act alone, we can.

Music and Me, part 2

Last time, I talked about how music played such an important part in my wife as I grew up.

As I got older, my voice got deeper and deeper, more and more like my dad's gravelly bass. For many years, I just kind of went along with that, and whenever we participated in our ward choirs, I always sang bass. I like being part of the choir and singing praises to the Lord, and a lot of times our wards haven't had many interested male voices, so I've always felt welcome. Bass was easier, both because that's where I thought I was stuck and because the bass part in church hymns tends to be a lot easier than the tenor part, and anyway tenor was just a bit too much of a stretch for me.

A couple of months ago our ward choir started practicing for our Easter program. My 9-year-old son, who for years has opted out of ward choir even though his big sister has sung with us, suddenly decided he wanted to take part. His voice hasn't changed yet, so he sings tenor (well, probably baritone actually). Since this was his first experience with the choir, I wanted to sit with him for moral support... which meant singing tenor too. Turns out, with a bit of an adjustment in my posture and a small mental shift in terms of where my voice is singing from... I CAN sing tenor! The very highest notes are still a bit of a challenge until my voice has warmed up, but with proper support, I can actually sing tenor quite well! :)

I know to many people, this may seem a really minor thing. But it's been a huge confidence-booster for me in terms of carving out a more gender-balanced identity for myself. With my newfound ability, I've been practicing singing along with Josh Groban and Collin Raye when I'm driving alone to and from work, and it's been so freeing!

Based on this success, I've started trying to figure out how to adapt my vocal ability to my speaking voice too. There are tons of video tutorials on YouTube that talk about how to do this, some more useful than others. One of the big clues that really helped me was to speak from the throat instead of from the abdomen; it's really pretty amazing how much of a difference in makes just relocating the sound resonance from your chest to your head! I've been trying this on and off lately, even sometimes at work and when talking to my kids and wife, and so far nobody's said anything to me about it, because it's still my voice, just pitched a little higher. Wow.

Music and Me, Part 1

I've enjoyed singing for almost as long as I can remember. When we were really young, my mom, a "reformed hippy," would play her acoustic guitar and sing folk songs with my sister and I. Some that I remember from those days:

• I was Born About 10,000 Years Ago
• The Name Game
• Make New Friends...
• The Crawdad Song

When I was a little older, we discovered Mom's old 45 RPM records in the garage, and quickly found our favorites, which we played over and over (and over) again alongside our own kids' records like Monster Mash and Flashbeagle:

• Does Your Chewing Gum Lose Its Flavor on the Bedpost Overnight?
• Alley Oop
• Snoopy vs. the Red Baron
• Dinner With Drac

(Yeah, my musical tastes ran a little quirky when I was a kid. They still do). Fast-forward a few years, and I was making mixtapes with stuff from my friends, my sister, recorded off the radio and TV... it's probably hard for my kids to even imagine that world, when the Internet wasn't there to give us basically unlimited access to nearly limitless music, almost entirely on demand (otherwise I wouldn't have even been able to put together these playlists!). Plus, music was much more social back then, I think — I discovered Weird Al Yankovic, Ray Stevens, the Pet Shop Boys, Depeche Mode, Erasure, ABBA, They Might Be Giants, Rush, and so many other bands via friends that gave me copies. I kind of miss that, actually. Online sharing somehow isn't the same.
Anyway, now to the actual point of this post. I remember singing "Just an Old-Fashioned Love Song" in our elementary school choir, and it touched a nerve somewhere deep inside me. I LIKED singing in a group! What's more, I seemed to be pretty good at it... I don't have perfect pitch, but I can copy others pretty well (which is the subject of another blog post entirely), and I'm pretty good at remembering lyrics (unfortunately, the corollary is that once something's stuck in my head, it's nearly impossible to unseat it). A few years later in middle school, I had the chance to avoid having to take P.E. (which I hated[1]) by signing up for choir instead. Kind of a no-brainer for me.
I didn't pursue choir in high school (one of my few regrets from that time), but I never stopped singing along to the stereo when I was driving alone, and music became a constant background presence in my life. Then, as in other aspects of my teenage years, puberty came along and messed things up. My middle school baritone slowly but surely descended into a deep bass. Guess that means no more singing along with Collin Raye, right? Well, I certainly thought so...
To be continued...

Notes

[1]Except for swimming class – swimming was awesome.