I’m terrible at singing. No one’s ever told me directly, but they haven’t had to – I’ve heard it for myself. Flashback to 10-year-old me: my bestie and I recorded ourselves singing Miley Cyrus’ “The Climb”. She was too young to know not to laugh when I tried to hit the high notes – an uphill battle, am I right?

Then there’s 18-year-old me, sipping a Lush Guava Vodka Cruiser at schoolies and singing that Macklemore song with Kesha about the good old days. The days were neither old (it was 2017) nor good (someone videoed it). Fast-forward to 25-year-old me, enough shochu in my belly to belt out all the wrong words to “Don’t Look Back in Anger” at a karaoke bar in Osaka. Oh, Sally could wait. She could have waited her whole damn life to never have to watch that selfie video I took while behind the mic.

And now: a 27-year-old lifelong music fan, but only from the sidelines. Secretly, I love singing. Evidently, I’m bad at it. Simply, I want to learn how to do it.

SET A GOAL After much deliberation with my housemate – angelic singer-songwriter Greer Clemens – I decide my goal is to sing “Pressure to Party” by Julia Jacklin without vocally (or emotionally) imploding at a karaoke party I’m hosting in a month’s time. Unfortunately, one of Earth’s best singers (aforementioned housemate) will be in attendance, so I’m taking this whole pressure to party thing quite literally.

I ask Greer if she honestly thinks anyone (me) can sing. “I do!” she says. “I think that with confidence, practice and passion, anyone can perform a song in a way that is fun or moving or impressive.” Greer assures me that the biggest obstacle between a “good” performance and a “bad” one is confidence and character. I currently have a minimal amount of both.

Next, I consult one of my favourite musicians, Annie Hamilton – a person with a voice that reminds you of the beauty of being alive. She too believes that anyone can sing. “How well you can or cannot sing depends on how much you get to know your voice and embrace your own unique sounds.” But what if my own sound is uniquely bad? Like Greer, Annie says that singing is more about “attitude and energy than skill.”

FIND YOUR VOCAL RANGE Turns out, there are two different kinds of singing “voices” – chest voice and head voice. Chest voice, according to a friendly YouTube lady with an immaculate blow-dry, is essentially your speaking voice – you should be able to feel vibrations on your chest. Head voice, on the other hand, comes from your head, like if you were to impersonate Mickey Mouse. Thankfully, most of “Pressure to Party” hangs out in the chest area.

The more you practise, the wider your range can stretch. For Greer, singing lessons in school were the closest she’s been to understanding how athletes feel. “It was like having some innate skill and then training enough that you felt it improving,” she says. “I suddenly had access to notes both lower and higher than I had ever been able to sing.” It’s the same for Annie. “The more I sing, the better I get,” she says. “It’s as simple as that – a muscle. It’s like practising any other skill.”

While Annie has always loved singing, she – like me – was too self-conscious to sing in front of people until her 20s. “If I have any regrets, it’s that I let fear stop me from singing for so long.” After she left her old band, Annie began writing songs that she thought she’d need another singer to perform. “I knew deep down that I could sing, but only in the way you can see the vague shape of things through heavily frosted glass.” After six weeks in Iceland at an artist’s residency, singing all day, every day – “I practised, experimented, explored my voice, whispered, screamed, recorded it, listened back, tried again” – Annie sang solo for the first time to a few fishermen at the local pub’s open mic night. “I played three songs,” she says. “The earth did not swallow me whole.”

STAND UP STRAIGHT AND BREATHE I have what they call “tech neck”, meaning that my posture is that of someone who spends too much time watching Instagram Reels, so this part is hard. Stand up straight with your feet spread hip-distance apart. Your hips should be slightly tucked and your knees should be relaxed, not locked. Roll your shoulders down and back, with your arms resting at your sides. Lift your chest and ribcage up tall so you can get a good breath in, and then balance your head above your spine weightlessly, like a string is drawing your skull towards the ceiling. This insane pose is good for neither my confidence nor character – but still, I persist.

Next, you have to learn to breathe, which I naively thought I already knew how to do. Friendly YouTube Lady tells me to relax my tummy muscles so I can breathe into my belly and let it expand, instead of my chest rising and falling. Take deep, relaxed breaths into the lower part of your stomach but don’t fill it up to the max. More air equals more tension, so keep it parked in Chill Town. This part is about swapping out struggle for control – I continually find myself doing the former.

WARM UP As someone who is making a life out of making music, Annie’s voice is serious business. She’s had lots of issues with it, too – “I’m a serious yapper and I will never say no to a tequila shot and karaoke” – so warming up her cords has become a daily routine. “I have a vocal warm-up app,” she says. “It’s very embarrassing. I apologise to my band who have to hear me warming up in the green room before every show. But that’s showbiz, baby.”

Greer sends me a video by a different friendly YouTube lady – this time with stunning eye make-up – who runs me through a five-minute vocal warm-up. First step is the lip trill (which is hilariously like imitating a horse) while sliding your register up and down. Next, sing “mah” repeatedly on a descending scale. I don’t know how else to describe this other than it feels like you’re on an Austrian mountaintop with your gorgeous governess and six siblings. Then sing “nay” on an ascending scale. The next step is “mah” again but beginning in a hum, and then there’s “ooo” as you sound really intrigued and then really disappointed. I decide I hate warming up, and Annie agrees it’s boring. “But losing your voice and not being able to sing – or go to karaoke – is way more boring.”

Greer says exercises and warm-ups were how she strengthened her voice, but for beginners she suggests recording yourself singing and trying to identify which bits need work. I wait until both of my housemates are out to attempt this, and then immediately delete the voice memo. And then delete that from the deleted folder.

PRACTICE MAKES MEDIOCRE I don’t need to be great! I am merely aiming for mediocre. My one wish is for my friends to not physically cringe for three minutes and two seconds. Unfortunately, all the experts recommend recording oneself in order to listen back. I would almost rather subject my upcoming karaoke audience to my tone-deafness than listen back to it myself. Almost. When Annie listens back to her voice from a few years ago, she says she cringes a little too – but also feels a nice sense of “whoa”. “It’s actually wild how much my voice has changed, and my relationship with it. I have so much confidence in my voice now. I’m not Mariah Carey but I know how to deliver something that feels like a true expression of myself, even if it’s a bit rough around the edges.”

Every day for a month, I record myself singing “Pressure to Party” karaoke-style. When I want to quit, I think about making my friendly YouTube ladies proud. I also think about not thinking about singing, like Annie suggests. “I don’t perform well if I’m in my own head or distracted with thoughts about whether people are enjoying it or if it sounds OK. It’s all about presence – the flow state is the goal.” I’m starting to realise that there is no cheat code for singing. The main piece of wisdom I’m receiving is “believe in oneself”. Yuck!

THE PRESSURE HAS PARTIED The karaoke party was a success. Don’t be fooled – I sounded terrible, albeit better than a month ago. The real success (brace for corniness!) was attempting to sing at all. Learning how to sing has been more like exposure therapy than about drastically improving my voice. After subjecting myself to voice memo after voice memo of my off-pitch-ness, I realised I just didn’t care. The only thing I actually care about is having fun – which, in turn, brought out a karaoke performance of confidence and character. Secretly, I love singing. Evidently, I’m mediocre. Frankly, I don’t give a shit.

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