Growing up, I listened to a lot of music. I had my parents’ record collection, of course, filled with Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, Roy Orbison, and Buddy Holly. That’s the first music I remember listening to. Listening to each song, unaware of how instruments even worked, let alone song structure, lyric-writing, or anything else. But I listened.
I loved voices. Cash’s honesty was embedded in his gruff voice. The Big O and his operatic big weepers. And Buddy Holly’s southern twang.
As I grew older, I began finding my own music–much to the chagrin of my parents. And, again, voice was important. Geddy Lee’s voice is distinct and immediate. Ronnie James Dio had a voice that sounded like it came right out of a mythology book. And then there was this guy. This guy down below here.
All during high school, all I wanted was to sound like him. I practiced and practiced and practiced. It’s the voice I always wanted. Learning that I’d never have it, I eventually turned to playing drums, my frustration shoving me all the way to the back of the stage.
I sing once in a while. It’s not a great voice, but it’s a good one. I sound better when I warm up and when I practice. But I’ll never sound like this guy. Not ever.
Dammit.