Sing. Yowl. Mew. Yodel. Myurdel. Let it out. © Laura Eades 1014 all rights reserved.

Even if it’s godawful.

Sing karaoke. Sing the guitar-riff of The Final Countdown. So are a lot of songs godawful. But so, so much fun to sing.

Sing when you’re walking home from the pub like we used to when we were 17. So many people who had work the next day enjoyed our renditions of The Future Sound of London. And were stunned by our ability to recreate their electronic sound vocally. “Ba bi boop boop boop…”

Sing while you ride your bike. Even if you can’t whistle. Or just put your lips together and make an engine sound. Add brakes. Nobody can stop you.

Sing while you put your socks on. “One o’clock, two o’clock, three o’sock stupid”.

Original sing

I’m pretty sure singing is one of life’s very first pleaures.

I found two little recordings I did two years ago. It’s me singing to my daughter, who’s crying. While I sing, she quiets. The necessity of this lead me to bumble out all manner of nonsense to soothe her.

(Actually I’ve just relistened to these. They are truly awful, but still, it would be hypocritical of me to advocate godawful singing and then withold my own. So I’ve shared them here. And here. But what if it was the other way round – perhaps she was crying because my songs are so ropey?)

These baby songs become family institutions. My friend Sarah told me her mother was still singing “Ben is a Bibbly Boo” on car journeys even when he was quite grown up.

To hell with everyone

In Berlin, in our local Mauerpark, they have public karaoke in a stone amphitheatre every Sunday in Summer. It’s called Bearpit Karaoke and it’s one man’s brilliant, bike-brought, battery-powered thriving project*.

The pleasure of seeing the Belgian guy murder Yeah I Wanna Dance With Somebody with aplomb will stay with me for a long time to come. The tears of hearing some tourist totally move me with Je Ne Regret Rien are still caught in my throat. Our daughter mainly likes the (acid? alcohol? danceschool?) casualties who sometimes rock up to rock out behind the singers, upstaging the whole performance.

(*If you’re visiting Berlin, to find out if it’s on, look up Bearpit Karaoke on twitter or Sonntags Karaoke on FB).

Musical movements

Sometimes, trying to be better at things you enjoy ruins them.

For example, I went to jazz singing classes until the teacher took me aside after the session and said embarrassingly that I “did a lot of strange bodily movements” while singing. I was channelling Stevie Wonder. But shamed, I didn’t go back.

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What do you sing in your absent-minded moments? Do you have funny domestic lyric variations? Hearing what they are would make my week. Click on the pale grey dot with a plus sign below the blogpost to open the comment thread.

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