My Spontaneous Shift in Pitch
Maserati, Jeremiah and Happy Birthday
This is an evolving situation. I don’t know all the how’s and why’s but it’s too good and interesting not to share.
Audio version: My Spontaneous Shift in Pitch
IT HAPPENED FRIDAY AFTERNOON. July 21st, 2023 to be precise. I was in traffic behind a white Acura with a license plate frame advertising a Maserati dealership. I don’t know about you, but the mere mention of the word Maserati sets off a Pavlovian response where I spontaneously sing (in my head), “My Maserati does one-eighty-five, I lost my license, now I don’t drive.” The lyrics repeat four or five times then fizzle out.
I was alone in the car, so I sang along.
Normally, when other people are in the car or in my presence, I don’t sing out loud. That too is a Pavlovian response to decades of shhh’s, disapproving looks, and straight up don’t’s. It’s for good reason mind you. I can’t sing on key. It’s a personal travesty because I’m like the lyrics from U2’s song Elevate, “I can’t sing, but I’ve got soul.”
It’s been this way for as long as I can remember. In church I would listen carefully to my mom singing and try to copy her, but it simply didn’t sound the same. I knew I was off, but I couldn’t figure out how to make my voice match the right tone.
When I was twenty one and my daughter was two, I remember sitting on the stairs with her while she sang a song that went up and down the scales.
🎶 One, two, three, four, five, I caught a fish alive. Six, seven, eight, nine, ten, I let it go again. Why did you let it go? Because it bit my finger so. Which one did it bite? The little one on the right.
I was shocked. She didn’t get that voice from me. Not only could she sing, but it was exact and clear. At two years old she had perfect pitch and a deep soulful voice. I was so proud of her singing ability that for her entire childhood I made her perform for anyone who would listen. I was like Ursula in The Little Mermaid, “Now, SING!”
Unfortunately, like most overzealous parents living vicariously through their children, my desire for her to sing ruined her enjoyment of it.
Not being able to sing didn’t deter me from trying. In college I took a year's worth of voice lessons. None paid off. Finally, I succumbed to reality, accepted my off key voice and even learned to laugh at it.
In my forties, on one of our cross country road trips, my youngest daughter and I were belting out ‘Jeremiah was a Bullfrog’. She was in the show choir at school and had been trained properly to sing. She too has a beautiful voice and so took it upon herself to teach me to sing the song in key.
She taught me scales; Do, Re, Mi, Fa, Sol, La, Ti, Do. I couldn’t quite get it so, she would sing a note and I would try and match it. Sometimes I could get it, but the higher tones were still off.
With my voice was warmed up, we agreed I should take a shot at the song. I sang it loud and proud and she recorded me. It was all part of the teaching process - I needed feedback.
We were headed down route 40, that black ribbon of asphalt that weaves and rolls east to west; and for five states runs alongside America’s Main Street, Route 66. The road that inspired generations of music, film and literature. It’s the route where people get their kicks, the route that takes you to Amarillo by Morning and has its own corner in Winslow, Arizona. It’s the Mother Road in Grapes of Wrath, carrying the Okies, and their hope, west to California.
When I was done, she burst out laughing. “Can you tell how much you're off?” she sputtered out in a chuckle.
I laughed too. Of course I know. In fact, I can feel that the sounds are off more than I can hear what’s wrong.
She played my version of Jeremiah. My voice came through the speakers of my car loud enough for me to hear just how bad it was. It was so bad that for the next thirty minutes we listened to it on repeat while we belly laughed and tried not to pee our pants.
I’m past being embarrassed. It’s just a fact. I have no clue how to get my voice to match the right notes.
So there I was, sitting in the car whisper singing My Maserati does one-eighty-five… and a novel thought crossed my mind. “Was that on key?” I sang it again. It sounded on key and it felt right. It was the strangest sensation. I could feel myself hitting the notes. What?!! How in the world is this happening?
It spooked me. I tried to think of another song but my mind went blank. Finally, I remembered Happy Birthday, sang it…and the same thing happened. It sounded right. Could it be? Could I be able to sing on key? Really? I don’t understand. I’m 56 years old and I’ve never sung on key before. I don’t mean to exaggerate, I can sing some notes, but the higher ones elude me.
I parked the car and recorded myself singing. I listened to it. It was incredible; I was on key. It wasn’t great. It was a’cappella, but it was on key - or at least closer to it than I’d been in my life.
I picked up my daughter and we began the drive home. I wasn’t going to tell her because I wasn't sure what was going on and I didn’t want to announce that I could sing, if it wasn’t true. So I didn’t say anything. For ten minutes. Then she asked me how I was doing and it tumbled out.
“Well, I might have discovered something a few minutes ago, maybe, I’m not sure yet, I might be wrong, and I’m kind of shell shocked, but here it is……..I might…be able to…sing. It’s weird. I don’t know how it’s possible. And maybe I’m wrong, but -”
“Sing Happy Birthday,” she said.
We were driving down another ribbon of asphalt. Together in the car, years after she’d tried to teach me to sing. I started Happy Birthday and after the first measure, her jaw dropped and she covered her mouth. I kept singing and nodding and pointing to myself like, ‘you’re hearing this right!’ Unbelievable.
After so years of hearing my kids say, mom, please don’t sing, I just sat there and wondered, how am I doing this? How on earth is this possible?
The only thing that’s changed is that I have a new pair of hearing aids that actually sound like real life. The last pair was mechanical ish sounding, so I rarely wore them. But these hearing aids are incredible and I wear them all day everyday.
I WAS TWENTY ONE when I found out I have a significant hearing loss. When I went to the audiologist, they told me the loss is equivalent to someone who's worked in artillery for three years. They ran lots of tests, but couldn't find an underlying cause. I’m missing about half of the high frequencies.
I remember going to a meeting a few years ago and a woman I know named Cece, told me that her name is actually TC. When she said it, I still heard Cece. So she spelled it for me. It was weird. I thought she should pronounce the T better because it sounds like she’s saying Cece. Then, last week, with my new hearing aids, I heard her introduce herself as TC. Whoa, she didn’t need to enunciate, I needed hearing aids.
A similar thing happened a year ago when another woman introduced herself as Guy. I thought it was a strange name for a woman, but she had been a war journalist and I figured it was a nickname she got in the trenches. Then I heard someone call her Diane. Oh, her name wasn’t Guy. It was Di. What the hell. Not only was I missing sounds, I was losing letters.
Now, three weeks after I have good hearing aids, not only can I differentiate a C from a T, I can bloody well sing. I’m not a great singer. But at least so far, I’m not going to have to lip sync Happy Birthday anymore.
In fact, tomorrow is my son’s birthday and it’ll be the first time in his 23 years that he gets to hear me sing to him on key. That’s a gift in and of itself.
WHY DIDN’T SOMEONE TELL ME? In all these years, I would’ve expected someone, an audiologist at least, to tell me that the reason I can’t sing the higher tones is because I can’t hear them. How would I know how to match the tone if they’re out of my range?!
But as I googled into the wee hours, I couldn’t find any corroboration that hearing aids help singing. Instead, I found audiologists and voice teachers who flatly declare that hearing aids don’t improve singing ability. But if that’s so, how can you explain my sudden, spontaneous pitch? There’s no other reason. I haven’t had a singing class for twenty years.
I did find one reference to one doctor, the late Alfred Tomatis from France, who worked with singers. He wrote, “If one gives the imperfect ear the chance of hearing correctly, the voice instantly and unconsciously improves.”
That must be the case for me. I’ve had my hearing aids for 24 days and the change is unconscious and remarkable.
Some people can perceive more colors than others. Some people can taste more flavors. Makes sense that some can hear beyond the normal frequencies.
You're a special one, in so many ways.