Converting karaoke into cash — without vocal torture

We are all familiar with the phrase “singing for one’s supper”, which implies getting something for performing a service. Well, this saying just got a whole new twist in Finland. Earlier this year (June 6-8), Fortum Singalong Shuttle drivers were only accepting payment in the form of karaoke from passengers arriving at the three-day Ruisrock festival.

Each car had its own tablet, allowing passengers to choose a song and follow the lyrics together. The initiative was designed to engage customers and inspire them to lead the change for a cleaner world. The company was trying to introduce festivalgoers to sustainable living while focusing on smart solutions.

While I found this idea completely novel, I think I would have still opted to pay in cash. No one should be subjected to vocal torture, especially mine. There, I have openly admitted it. My one regret in life is that I cannot carry a tune. However, I am convinced that this gift deteriorates with age without practice. One has to exercise the vocal chords to keep them in nick.

Years ago, when I was in school, I was considered good enough for a part in a musical. No one in my family could believe this and kept asking me if it were a mistake or whether my music teacher was tone deaf. In fact, I was given a lead role and had my first taste of being in the spotlight. I don’t remember being criticised for my singing then. Maybe the audience was tone deaf too.

But my harshest critics came from within my family. I was convinced that I had a passable singing voice and couldn’t wait to entertain guests who were forced to sit through my performance while my siblings sniggered in the background. There was a particular favourite of mine back in the day, Lightning Express by the Everly Brothers, which struck a chord with me and moved me to tears. So, I was determined to belt it out on any occasion so that others could also experience the powerful emotions it evoked.

Agony of listening to the whole song

There were two problems with this magnanimous motive, though. One, my voice was not a gift from above; and, two, the song was long and belied its title. My siblings would try their best to spare the assembled guests (usually friends of my parents who had dropped in for a chat only to be held captive against their will) the agony of having to listen to the whole song by clapping loudly, while I was halfway through. But I was made of sterner stuff.

Shooting daggers at them, I carried on till the bitter end, determined not to be thwarted in my mission by a handful of unappreciative family members.

These memories make me cringe now as I wonder why I was under the illusion that I was the next big singing voice. The embarrassment lingers on decades later and I continue to be ribbed about this by my nieces and nephews who have been regaled by this tale by their insensitive parents. They say elephants never forget. It seems I have several within my family.

Hope springs eternal in the human breast goes another saying. I have been waiting for a chance to redeem myself. So, I read with great interest that there are free apps that act as a virtual trainer to help you control your breathing (very helpful for people like me who hyperventilate at the drop of a hat), sustain a note and even train your ears. There is hope for me after all. Even professional singers employ the services of voice coaches.

Who knows, with the right training, I might just be able to audition for The Voice one day. Nothing is impossible.

■ Vanaja Rao is a freelance writer based in Hyderabad, India.