a case for singing

from evy's notebook

Singing is an incredibly vulnerable activity. I make a sound with nothing but my body, and your judgment of my music is a judgment of the capabilities of nothing other than my self. A cheap ukulele, shaped like a pineapple, can be to blame for the lackluster sounds I create with it. When I sing, I have no instrument to hide behind. But it's this vulnerability, this purity of music through self, that makes the art of singing so magical.

If you're interested in making music, the singing instrument is the cheapest and most portable instrument you can own - it's you. You don't need to be an skilled singer to enjoy singing, and perhaps you've already enjoyed singing in the shower, in a karaoke booth, or along to the radio in a long car ride.

One of my favourite karaoke songs is In The End by Lincoln Park, because there is so much screaming in it. I can't imagine the last time I've screamed, or even raised my voice, outside of a singing context, and the range of emotion that singing allows me to express has been especially cathartic in covid times. I'll often put on my angsty "sing in the middle of the street at night" playlist, go for a walk, and feel my body vibrating as the music flows through my lungs and bounces around the spaces in my mouth as I release it to the world.

What would be on your playlist?

written from a prompt during a writing class