Our portable phones ask us to passively listen to pop songs, with earbuds wedged in our ears. But God intended us to make our own music. In fact, that’s a currently popular song – featured on the TV shows Dexter and Lost – a revival of a Mama Cass hit from 1969:
Make your own kind of music;
even if nobody else sings along!
I like to sing meaningless words, such as “Great ooga booga; can’t you hear me talking to ya?” from “Ball of Confusion” by The Temptations, or the opening of “Bad Romance” by Lady Gaga:
Rah, rah, ah-ah-ah
Roma, roma-ma
Gaga, ooh-la-la…
Today, I sang on my way down High Street in Phoenicia. Stopping for a moment, suddenly I could hear the rushing Esopus – it had been raining lately – beside me. Before I sang, my mind blocked out the sound. Singing alerts one to the sound environment.
You can study the songs of your heroes, and sing the exact way they sang them. Think of life as a giant karaoke bar, without the annoying video screen. It’s nice to walk down a country lane, belting out:
Everybody spread the word:
We’re gonna have a celebration
All across the world,
In every nation…
… and to actually believe you’re Madonna, strutting across a stage in Philadelphia in 1983. It can be any year you want, when you sing – even 1424, if you choose a ballad like “A Gest of Robyn Hode.”
In recent years, scientists have discovered that musically exercising your vocal cords improves your health. The 2017 study in London showed that singing reduces the amount of cortisol, the stress hormone, in saliva. The study in 2004 revealed that singing increases the levels of immunoglobulin A, which strengthens the immune system. Researchers in 2008 discovered that choir members snore less than non-singers.
When I was a kid, my parents had The Fireside Book of Folk Songs, and we’d gather some nights to sing from the book a capella. The only ditty I remember was:
I once met a girl named sweet Molly Malone
and she wheeled her wheelbarrow
through streets broad and narrow,
singing: “Cockles and mussels, alive, alive-O!”
In retrospect, these were some of the happiest evenings of my childhood.
As you vocalize, you can modify the lyrics, eventually producing a whole new musical artifact. I did this a lot as a youthful hitchhiker, reinventing songs of the era:
And it’s good night you moonlight maybes,
Rock-a-bye, sweet baby James,
Deep greens and booze are the colors I abuse:
Won’t you let me go down in your jeans?
And rock-a-bye, sweet baby James.
I recommend closing your eyes while you sing, to better concentrate on the aural dimension. Of course, you may accompany yourself on a guitar or a harmonium, or a zither or veena, as you sing, or even whip out an ocarina and play a little solo after the chorus. [The veena is a traditional string instrument from India, dating back to at least 1000 BCE.]
Do you know what recitative is in opera? It’s just ordinary speech sung in a well-trained, dramatic style. You can do this all day, by yourself. Just improvise the lyrics, and sing them like a lofty soprano (or mighty tenor). For example:
I’m chopping onions now, chopping them finer and finer, in order to place them … in a meatloaf!
Songs that are awful to listen to can be great to sing, for some reason (especially if you change the words). “Hotel California” comes to mind:
Welcome to the hotel – call your mama!
Such a lovely place; such a loveless paste…
Yesterday I met a guy named Alex who’s studying Finnegans Wake in a history class at Bard College. After talking to him I walked down the street singing that Irish song:
Whack for the hurrra, dance your partner;
round the floor ye trotters shake;
isn’t it the truth I tell you –
lots of fun at Finnegan’s wake!
Here’s an idea: Sing a medley! Find two or three songs – or even nine! – that fit together perfectly, and reproduce them in sequence. (Generally medleys only include part of each song.)
Don’t worry about singing offkey, or having the proper timbre. The more you sing, the better you get – and besides, this is about health, not talent.
Singing emerges from the fifth chakra, which governs imagination and the expressive arts. “It is the bridge between our intellect and our emotions,” according to TheJoywithin.org. The more melodies you produce, the more you activate this “higher chakra.”
There are one or two dangers in singing. If you go on too long – without proper training – you can hurt your throat. And there are a few circumstances, such as sitting in a laundromat, where nearby patrons may be annoyed.
Once you start lifting your voice in song, acoustics become an issue. People sing in the shower for several reasons: a) no one can hear you, b) there’s a slight echo, c) it’s fun to sing while you’re wet.
And there’s no need to sing alone! Sing with others: your sisters and brothers, your enemies and lovers. Two voices are (obviously) stronger than one, and if you can figure out how to sing in harmony, the two of you create a new, braided voice.
On a slightly different subject, I recently invented (quite possibly) a new musical artform: drone kazoo. I wrote an article for Chronogram about three Tuvan throat singers (the Alash Ensemble) appearing at The Local in Saugerties, so I watched their videos, and became intoxicated by overtone chanting. I happen to carry a kazoo in my pocket, so I brought it to my mouth and played one long extended note, like a devotional Tibetan monk.
Suddenly this cutesy, comical instrument took on a grave dignity – powered by the human voice!
Join the family! 
