Chapter 1.2 - As if Singing 2 (2/2)

Lowering the larynx and fiercely closing the vocal cords, raising the velum and forcing the diaphragm to increase the pressure.

This body which had never been trained couldn’t follow even one given order. After going down slightly, the larynx would shoot back up, it was difficult to keep the vocal cords closed, and raising the velum seemed unfamiliar.

The fundamental basics weren’t there and thus obviously, it couldn’t even make a proper pitch.

No, it would’ve been fortunate had it been just the pitch that was the issue. Even the breath that I had trained had vanished like it was an illusion.

The magnificent ringing had degraded to a deflating balloon, and from being able to hold a note for over 30 seconds to having trouble holding it for 10 seconds.

After I stopped the tuning and glared at the mirror, I could see the younger version of me scowling back.

‘Truly worthless.’

A while after the glaring showdown, my lips lifted up and smiled.

That didn’t matter.

Because even so, I could still sing.

Then what should I sing? Soon a melody appeared within and stuck there – a bright and exciting melody. If one didn’t sing after having these thoughts, that wouldn’t be an opera singer.

After snickering and opening the mouth, the familiar lyrics softly flowed out.

“Che bel-la cosa, e’na jurnata ‘e sole-”

[A beautiful day with the dazzling sun]

I hummed and started from the introduction. The joyful Napoli, South Italy region’s folk song – the so famous, O sole mio. The faraway moonlight, the old toilet, the gloomy lamp – forgetting all of these easily, I thought solely of the bright, burning sun.

A simple and yet certain signpost hanging on the sky; the sole light, guiding myself forward.

Song.

As I imagined myself walking straight following that, a decent colour was added to the sound.

“N’aria Serena Doppo’na Tempesta -”

[The cool wind after a stormy rain]

Up to here, it was simple. No matter how untrained, this was simple.

As far as the bean sprouts, ie. the notes remained within the stave, anyone could sing it.

The problem was the breath though.

Put emphasis on the desired parts by exhaling the air to add to the ringing. Sometimes, there would be more breath mixed in, and less on some parts. Keeping the breath to maintain the legato was important in opera.

As if using a furnace at a blacksmith, the exact amount of air needed had to be calculated and carried across the vocal cords. This was enough to add rich ringing to the miserable music.

Of course, it was too much for an untrained body to handle.

Simply, I was lacking breath. After all, breath management had to be supported by the physical body. The muscles pulling and stabilising the diaphragm, and the muscles for maintaining a constant breath – all of these were lacking.

That was still okay.

When I lacked breath, I stopped singing and drew in large breaths. If I did this kind of phrasing at a choir I would be buried in insults but, whatever.

I was alone.

The me right now was a conductor, an accompanist, a soloist and an audience member.

While struggling to manage the smile that threatened to escape, I carried on.

Finally, the climax.

“Ma-! N’atu sole -”

F4.

A high pitch reaching 2 Octave F.

‘Would it be hard with this body?’ was what I had thought, but it could be squeezed out after trying.

It was literally squeezing. Breathing as much air in and expanding the stomach, I also expanded the inside of my mouth to secure enough room for resonance. And stopping just before the note for a breath was … well, a given.

After gathering all that air and emptying it in one go, the vocal cords screamed as a high pitch resounded. Thanks to that, the appoggio was completely ruined, but, what else can I do, when that was the only way possible?

And thus my little concert, step-by-step, slowly reached its end. A strange concert with stops in between lyrics to breathe.

“O sole mio~ sta’n fronte a te-”

[My sun is with you]

Ending the chorus and closing my mouth, the toilet turned quiet after several echoes. Drip, drip. The droplets from the tap resembled the claps of the audience.

Giving a smile, I thanked inside.

‘Thank you. Thank you.’

Now that even the farewell was over, only the last stage was left. After singing, there had to be feedback. Using the phone, I played the recording app which I had set up beforehand and my voice started to flow out. Since it was a toilet, the sound echoed a lot and the recording quality of the old phone was lacking but… there was no need to blame the equipment.

The problems were too obvious to do that.

‘It’s all over the place.’

Let’s go over it one by one. I couldn’t use any head voice and sang as if to tear my throat. The breath was lacking and the lyrics were in bits and pieces; the resonance was insufficient and the ringing was very lacking; the throat which forcibly raised the pitch was itching and the abused diaphragm started to hurt like someone was pulling on it.

There were endless amounts of problems. A thought that my body was seriously close to garbage during this period subconsciously appeared in my head.

Well, it might also be because I wasn’t used to this body from 20 years ago. After cowardly finding things to blame on, I sped over onto the pros.

Hmm… the things I did well…

The expression was quite decent since this relied more on experience than the body. I properly understood the parts that required emphasis and emphasised those and in hope of further highlighting it, I weakened the surrounding notes.

Conveying the lyrics, as well as vowel pronunciation was flawless from my perspective and all the lyrics connected naturally.

Ending the tone, as well as the introduction seemed to have been carried flawlessly.

Overall it wasn’t the best but… at least, wasn’t this a lot better than those periods of soulless singing?

The me inside the mirror was making a smile as if in agreement with me. Raising the other side of my lips to change the current expression, I thought.

So, in conclusion…

For a debut song, I guess it would be given a 7 out of 10. Other than the severely lacking physical aspect, it was quite well done, hey. As a reward, I patted my head when a large voice suddenly emanated from the wall.

“You crazy bastard! What the fuc* are you doing in the middle of the night!”

The old man next door seems to be in disagreement with my score.