Speechless

Turns out that it's particularly fitting to talk about different voices especially since I'm glued to American Idol - and also because I've had a slight tickle in my throat for the past few days.

Voices always come as a surprise actually. While occasionally stereotypes do actually ring true - that perky blond cheerleader really could have the squealy, high-pitched ever-enthusiastic voice that makes you wanna wring her neck and the husky, smoky siren's voice could actually belong to the exotic goddess beckoning you over at the end of the bar, it is also quite possible that the sexy, masculine baritone that practices pure seduction over the airwaves belongs to an old, arthritic granny knitting crochet on her rocking chair. Even the underachieving finalist on American Idol, Elliott Yamin with his plain, average man kinda looks has an indescribably beautiful voice that sounds almost sublime on stage. Over at work, I've seen it often enough to believe that the old jokes actually holds true.

Unlike the obsessive karaoke idol wannabes - like my woefully untalented neighbour who wails unthinkingly all evening long in tune with the mewling cats, not everyone has the guts to go live impromptu - certainly not me despite my seemingly all-confident persona online. My astounding vocal talents, whatever they might be, are forever confined to the four small walls of my shower I'm afraid. Big Bicep Barry, for one, doesn't seem to have any qualms over wielding the all-powerful microphone in public. Certainly not short of confidence, that one. Though I haven't heard him belt out some tunes, even Charming Calvin has mentioned an odd predilection ( fetish? ) for karaoke bars.

Just yesterday while Barry was humming a tune under his breath - shall I tell you that he secretly sings My Hips Don't Lie? - he confided in me that he secretly wishes that his voice was different. For a guy who maneuvres his hulking vehicle in town with those big arms, it always surprises me that his singing voice is far from what one would expect. Think more of a high tenor... which is why he wishes for a robust baritone which I assume would be more in keeping with his brawn.

Oddly enough, my voice deepens, smoothens and becomes almost irresistibly husky when I'm actually painfully aching in my throat - kinda like I am right now though it's getting better. Normally a horribly nasal baritenor that practically mimics Nanny Fine in the early hours of the morning ( and fortunately becomes more recognisably human as the day goes by ), my tone drops several octaves when I fall miserably ill - and suddenly I'm mumbling in the lower bass tones like Michael Buble / Jack Johnson.

Which is why tonight I'm gonna jive with the jazz musicians and challenge the screeching diva several doors down. Time for some sweet revenge.