Everyone has a story, a pivotal life changing moment. I have a few actually - life, it would seem, keeps slapping me in the face to ensure I get the message. But of those moments there are none more relevant to my life as a musician than this one…
On October 18th 2001, my father suffered serious complications from what should have been a routine back operation. When he woke, after four days and five subsequent operations, he could no longer walk, talk or see. My world had been utterly decimated.
A few long months later I rediscovered my voice – which, it turned out, would be my salvation.
At the risk of sounding like a contestant on a reality show, I always knew that I wanted to sing. I have always found the emotion in music compelling, intoxicating even. That beautiful partnership of melody and lyrics can take me anywhere and evoke latent memories of a different time. But despite playing the piano from the age of 4, guitar from 11 and singing since the age of 7, the goal of being a professional singer had constantly been shelved. My mother, who recognised my love for music at an early age, was reticent. Possibly because, aged 16, I came home with a blond haired, blue eyed, saxophone playing 24 year old boyfriend! But also because perhaps she considered music too unstable a career choice. “You’ll end up in the gutter” she would say, and I used to think, but that’s where the fun’s happening.
So after two Physics degrees and a few jobs in science and business publishing, life accelerated. I got married and had two beautiful children. Many would say that that was enough. But for me not singing turned out to be my biggest regret and my dissatisfaction was growing by the day.
By the end of 2001, my father was in still in hospital (he never came home). He died on 29 February 2004. My mother's heart was broken, she was becoming reclusive and I had a 3 year old son and a 4 year old daughter. That is when I enrolled in a jazz singing class where for two hours a week I was in paradise. My technique was pretty ropey but my teacher convinced me that this was something I could peruse professionally.
I went to some open mic sessions, met some amazing musicians and cut a demo to see if I could get work. It turned out that I could - perhaps not in the most salubrious of locations, but I really didn't care. One of my greatest faults is that I don't always think things through. I favour the “fly by the seat of your pants” approach to life, which sometimes is a curse, but in this case I think it was a blessing. I was literally living my dream, and if I had thought of the practicalities perhaps I would have packed it all in. Slowly both the gigs and my voice got better. I realised I had to put in some serious graft on my technique and repertoire, but to call it work would be fraudulent. Singing isn't work to me - it’s my passion and my compulsion.
Throughout this journey, my kids (now 16 and 17) have been my greatest support. When I doubt myself, they get lippy and arsy in a way only teenagers can. They propel me forward with crazy energy. They tell me to live my dream, because that's what I tell them to do. They tell me that there are no shortcuts, because that’s what I tell them that too. And when I’m exhausted they fold washing, they empty the dishwasher and they make cups of tea.
Life as a singer is crazy, busy and not always straightforward, but there is nothing I’d rather do. Ever. And I feel like I’m just getting started. Losing my father was unbearable, he was kind and warm and gentle and it was one of those things that I thought could never happen to me. But the silver lining was the rediscovery of my voice. Now I get to sing and write every day, I get to be part of a family full of talented musicians and songwriters and I'm pretty sure my dad is smiling down at me, whilst kicking up a storm in heaven.