Snowed In Voices

Several people, well, okay, three, have asked me why I haven’t done any readings yet (although one or two have already said this is not a good idea. Why on earth not? – some of you who have never heard my voice could well ask. For much the same reason as why I never sing in public. Never. The screams and howls of my victims, sorry, audience were too much to bear…

I find my voice to be a terrible thing, all high and nasal and whining – I simply wasn’t blessed with deep, dulcet tones, just as I was never blessed with a toneful ear – tone-deaf is what I am. Sad really, because I used to love singing as a child – until, that is, a teacher with higher sensibilities than my own waded through the hall to tell me to just mouth the words instead of mascerating them, there were, after all, others to think of. I never sang in public again.

So I’ve never really been an upfront performer, either. And here is the catch – nowadays the focus is upon the performance of poetry, especially the author’s performance of his or her work – everybody wants to hear your voice, as if somehow the original tones of the author lend an added authenticity to the work, although in my case I suspect that the only thing my voice lends to my pieces is an authentic experience of either acute discomfort or wallowing boredom. There was one time I delivered a good reading – it was to drums, on a boat on the Elbe, to a crowd of ravers. The drumming and the boat’s engine were so loud only the person sitting next to me heard the story – but he liked it, he really did!

But I don’t want to let anyone down, so I’ve decided to practice a bit of reading in the solace of my bedroom, and to show that I’m not shy you can see it here: It’s called Snowed In Voices.

If anyone wonders about the superb lip synching it’s because I dubbed a video of a different poem with the soundtrack for this poem. It’s just the wacky kind of thing I do when I get bored…

Does anyone still want me to do a reading?