Diary of an Immigrant: Back from the New World

Contrary to what you see on American Idol, normally those of us who can’t sing, don’t sing. Even the Americans who can sing, do so only at the designated, appropriate singing times (i.e. at church, on birthdays, in the shower). Any other attempt is considered either hilarious or embarrassing. In the U.S.A., singing in public will make others very wary of you, and may even cause a few people to cross the street to avoid you.

This just isn’t so in Ireland. Everywhere I’ve worked I’ve heard a co-worker singing along with the radio, and even the taxi drivers belt one out on occasion. Only yesterday the bus driver serenaded passengers with a deep tenor rendition of Roberta Flack’s ‘Killing Me Softly’. "I heard he sang a good song, I heard he had a style…" The French students sitting next to me were grinning at this, as was I, but none of the Irish seemed to take notice! I think this is because song in Ireland is such a community experience. The best example of this is that there is always singing at parties here. When I first heard about this, I was terrified, and tried to console myself with the thought that maybe it was a ‘group thing’ like singing around a campfire. That sounded pleasant enough. I decided I’d just whisper along, giving the impression that I was joining in. I thought this to be an extremely clever solution.

I was in denial. I had been warned in advance by my boyfriend that I’d be asked to sing at parties, and no amount of hiding in the corner would change that fact. What was even worse was that I didn’t know that saying ‘no’ would be so difficult! I’m not the type of woman that would say, ‘Oh great!! American Idol auditions are in town. Now I can show off my voice!" No, I’m the type that mimes singing ‘Happy Birthday,’ no matter how many people there, just in case someone would hear my terrible voice and decide they’d never want to speak to me again. (Or in the very least, in case they decide they wanted to avoid standing next to me at birthday parties).

During my first Irish party with my boyfriend’s (now husband’s) family, I thought the explanation- "no, I don’t have a good voice" -would be the end of the conversation. That they’d even be grateful that I was sensible enough to recognise my lack of talent. Not so.

"Ah go on. Give us a song."

"No really, I can’t sing." (My voice had once be compared to the screeching of a dying cat).

"Well, what’s your party song?"

"I don’t really have a …"

"You can sing your mother’s song, then!"

"Err… my mother doesn’t have a song…"

Or at least I didn’t think my mother had a song until she came to visit this Christmas and belted out Billy Joel’s " My Life" without having to be asked twice. (Which contains lyrics, by the way, that one never wants to hear their mother sing to them: "I don’t care what you say anymore, this is myyy life! Go ahead with your own life, leave me alone!") In that one moment of singing willingly she undid two years of my very hard work in excuse-making! (My favourite being that Americans just didn’t sing, which I’d been using quite successfully up until then). While my mother dazzled the in-laws with a very heartfelt song, I knew my turn would be coming up next.

When the family was telling me to "Go on, Go on," I begged someone to sing with me, and luckily a friend of the family showed me mercy and sang ‘The Blower’s Daughter’ with me. By the middle of the song I was in a trance; I was actually enjoying it! Of course that could have been due to the number of drinks I’d guzzled just to get to that moment. When the song was over I heard my mother in-law say, "Woah! No excuses now!"

I looked up, and to my surprise, there were no looks of horror, no ears were bleeding, no dogs were barking… my brother wasn’t even hiding under the table in embarrassment! In fact, he sang the next song.

I was delighted. I’d never heard his singing voice, and (like my mother) he really put his all into it. I realised then how extremely intimate it is to sing for others. You have to trust others not to laugh or cringe, and even more importantly, it’s a moment of giving others something you love, something that feels close to you. In reality, it’s giving a little bit of yourself. And people clap for it! Nowhere else in life will people actually applaud you for being so wholly yourself. Singing in front of others is nerve-wracking, delightful, overwhelming, exhilarating… all at the same time. I highly recommend it. And most importantly, having sung will make your act of listening all the better.