I Can’t Sing. I Will Never Pretend I Can

Years ago, I was in Durham and on the phone with my dad. I let him know I landed and was at my hotel. Even at my age, I have to let my parents know where I am. Sadly, my dad’s been gone for over a decade. Maybe he knows.

Anyway, I said, “You know I used to sound like John Lennon. Now I sound like Paul McCartney.” He retorted, “You make all the young girls cry.” He didn’t mean I sing like Barry Manilow. He meant my voice would make anyone cry. He’s right.

Sure, I wish I had the voice of Bono, Ian Curtis, David Gahan, Peter Murphy, Robert Smith, or the Moz. Oh, and the two Beatles I mentioned. They were gifted. There are many others in my boat. Far too many. But sadly, some of them think they can sing. I attend many events where we sing by the campfire or as part of our religious services. There was a guy there who used to like to sing and dance. He often said he was shocked that people didn’t recruit him from Lincoln Center to sing at the opera house or in the other theaters.

What do I do? I sing along or use their time up there as the time for a bathroom break. Some of them sing fast. Some drag it out. What should take 3-5 minutes turns into 45 minutes. That’s a lot of time in the bathroom. But it also gives you time to run over to the kitchen and get tea.

But then there are the personalities. The opera star had none. Some of the others are wonderful people. Some retired. Some working. They mean well. They want to sing. I still want to pitch for the Yankees. I blame my mother for never signing with the Bronx Bombers. That’s really a joke. Steinbrenner would have never signed me. Rightfully so. But these days, I might play and be better than whom Hal and Cash have signed.

How do I pick which “concert” I attend? There are places I go where those leading can carry a tune. But they are not friendly. In some cases, they are downright nasty and mean. I used to alternate. I recently decided I’d rather let my ears suffer with poor singing, as opposed to suffering unfriendliness.

100 Years or Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

Does Music Make a Difference When Shooting and Editing Photos?

By Mitchell Slepian

Hello, readers. As my regulars are aware, ninety-nine percent of the time, the images in my stories have been shot and edited with my Nikon camera. As Paul Simon sings, I like to take photographs. My Kodachrome sits on a table next to an old Nikon that was a workhorse and is now out of commission.

Sheepshead Bay by Emmons Avenue – Edited to Sir Elton

When shooting and editing, I always have songs in my head. One of my all-time favorite songs is “100 Years,” the opening track on The Cure’s “Pornography” album. It might be the darkest, most goth album of all time. I listen to it nonstop. Here’s a taste of Robert Smith’s (The Cure’s founder, lead singer, and possibly the best songwriter ever) lyrics. “It doesn’t matter if we all die. Ambition in the back of a black car.” I listen to lots of other great artists. Some are happier than The Cure. Of course, some are just as dark. Here’s a partial mix: Bauhaus, David Bowie, Billy Joel, Depeche Mode, Erasure, Sir Elton John, Joy Division, John Lennon (probably the best musician of all time), Led Zeppelin, Bob Marley, The Psychedelic Furs, The Smiths, Siouxsie and the Banshees, U2 and The Who. And the list goes on.

Red Flower – Edited to Sir Elton

It’s not unusual for me to have some of these lyrics floating through my brain when I’m shooting. “Confusion in her eyes that says it all. She’s lost control. And she’s clinging to the nearest passerby.” – “She’s out of Control,” Joy Division “Girl of sixteen, whole life ahead of her. Slashed her wrists, bored with life. Didn’t succeed, thank the Lord.” – “Blasphemous Rumors” – Depeche Mode “Back to the howling old owls. Hunting the horny back toad” – “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” – Sir Elton and “Before you cross the street. Take my hand. Life is what happens to you. While you’re busy making other plans” – “Beautiful Boy” – John Lennon. He always nailed it. They all do.

One can be sure the songs in my head while I am shooting affect how they are taken. I might adjust the ISO and F-stop based on how I am feeling. In case you were wondering, I do not listen to music on my iPhone. I hate headphones. I used to wear my Walkman’s headphones slightly above or below my ears. Sometimes I still do that with headphones when I am Zooming or watching things on YouTube. Songs always go through my head. It gets me through the days. Or as Robert Smith says, “In Between Days.” That’s on the “Head on the Door” album.

Bees Fetching Honey – Edited to the Cure

The other day, I was editing some images from Emmons Avenue, Sheepshead Bay and the New York Botanical Garden while listening to Sir Elton. Then I switched to a mix of The Cure, Echo and the Bunnymen, Erasure, and Psychedelic Furs, Siouxie and the Banshees. Erasure brings back memories of camp. The Cure, Erasure, and the Furs bring back old memories of dating and driving around in my old Caddy with the girls I liked. We usually listened to those bands. My first date was to see The Cure with Love & Rockets and the Pixies as the openers. We were too young to buy beer. We shared M&M’s.  I still think about all of this when certain songs play. 

Look at the images and see if you can tell the difference. This was written and edited to Led Zep’s “How the West Was Won.” With final touches while listening The latest from The Cure: “Songs of a Lost World.”