In my last blog, Got To Be Good Looking Cause I’m So Hard To See, I told the story of how my director flipped out when I sang the Beatles’ Come Together. So I went into the first rehearsal for Fiddler a little more confident than normal. I walked in, sat down, and he pretty much ignored me.

We sang four songs. I sang softly, since I’m not terribly confident (just more confident than before). I was trying to figure out where I fit in the score.

You see, I tend to sing high, but I should sing low, but I hear higher pitches better than lower pitches. It’s all rather complicated and confusing, but essentially, I hear higher pitches than I should be singing. All this boils down to is: I shouldn’t sing.

Anyway, I tried to fit in as best I could, but I couldn’t hear myself over everyone else, nor could I pick out a single voice near me to compare my pitches. I know a few people around me were in my range, and I was trying to match their pitches. Unfortunately, I kept going high because that’s what I could hear.

I basically sang falsetto all night. Not good.

So I go up to ET after rehearsal.

“Hey,” I say.

“What can I do for ya?” he asks.

“Where do you want me to sing? High? Low? Middle?”

“Whatever.” He smiled and turned around to talk to someone else.

Oh. That helped. Thanks.