Published Messenger Newspapers, Adelaide, July 10, 2002


SOUNDS OF SILENCE HELP AMUSIA


ALL those national anthems during the World Cup and I did not hear one footballer singing in tune as the camera passed him by - more proof that singing is not a natural ability for most of us. No matter their colour or creed, the players were uniformly awful, as flat as an Italian dummy spit. The fact is, if singing was as easy as soccer, everyone could do it. I think dancing is more natural; even so, watch the white kids trying to keep the beat to black music at the next Glenelg Jazz Festival. Heh-heh. My dad did a passably tuneful Bing Crosby impression when he was in a good mood, and whistled while he worked for the rest of the time, which could be very irritating. I have never heard my mother sing and nor can I really remember her listening to music on the radio. I just don't know, she possibly regards Mozart as a mere tinkler. I have a friend who is having singing lessons - for the self-discipline as much as anything. In conversation, she always digresses, distracted by side anecdotes, and slides all over the place. Singing, having to stick to the lyrics, must be a great trial for her. But she is improving and soon should sound something like Peggy Lee. We hope so. At my place, three radios, all tuned to the same station, are strategically located in the bedroom, bathroom and living room. The musical ``sweet spot'' - the point at which all three fill your ears in unison - comes by lying on the bedroom floor, head pointed across the hallway towards the bathroom. It does not help me to sing any better but I enjoy doing leg-lift exercises there to the William Tell Overture. Hi-ho, Silver, awaaaay! Being raised as a Catholic, we were expected to join the church choir or at least sing along with the hymns. I could sing in tune until my voice broke and that was that. Thereafter, taking a vow of silence, I mouthed the words and allowed no sound to come out. A devout, spindly woman, who we called the Praying Mantis, used to screech the hymns rhythmically and startingly out of tune. Sang like a drum, she did. She may have suffered from amusia. I cannot find the word in the Macquarie Dictionary but, be assured, amusia is a condition, usually resulting from brain or hearing damage, which means a victim cannot detect different musical pitches or even different melodies. Tone deaf, in other words, although it is hard to believe someone could listen to "A Whiter Shade of Pale" and "A Hard Day's Night", and not notice any difference between them. I like the story about the US opera diva Florence Foster Jenkins, from early last century, who made a career out of murdering Mozart, Verdi and so on - all sung with great gusto but totally, utterly out of tune. Not letting such a minor detail get in her way, Florence's career climaxed with a recital at Carnegie Hall, after which she said: "Some may say that I couldn't sing but no one can say that I didn't sing.'' Bravo.