The sound of silence

You’ve got to be careful what you ask for in a Christmas gift, because you just might get it.
I usually ask for a Barnes and Noble gift card for Christmas, and little else. I’m not good at making lists, so I’m generally satisfied to get one more holiday excuse to buy another book or two.
But before this last Christmas, I thought it would be fun to make my own CD. To do it, however, I’d need to get a microphone compatible with my home desktop computer. It would be fun, I thought, to set up my own little recording studio and create MP3s with my own music and with my own voice and my trusty acoustic guitar. I’d record my singing onto CDs for my kids and grandkids and give it to them when the next Christmas came around.
Sure enough, at Christmas 2015, one of my children presented me with everything I’d need. Suddenly, I had the microphone and the software available to do what I warned them … I mean, promised them … I would do.
It seemed like a good idea at the time. But the novelty of that plan is, alas, beginning to wear off.
Do you remember your reaction the first time you listened to yourself on a tape recorder? Do you remember how weird you sounded? Do you remember asking, “Is that me? Do I really sound like that?”
Sure you do. You weren’t impressed, were you?
It’s exactly like that listening to the playback of myself recording a song. I don’t sound so good.
I’ve never been impressed with my own voice, frankly. I consider myself a halfway-decent guitarist, in that I can play all the chords and I can do it with the proper timing and accent. And I can sing in tune, provided the song is within my limited range. But there’s nothing special about it, believe me.
I practiced recording my first song by doing the Beatles’ tune, “Blackbird.” The song features a great deal of chord changes, so it’s a song not everyone can perform well. I’ve practiced it often enough over the years to have become pretty adept at it, and it’s one of the songs Kari — who gifted me the microphone package — specifically requested for my CD.
But face it: one plain acoustic guitar and one thin voice (especially if it’s mine) doesn’t get record producers rushing to your door. I suppose the kids want me to make this CD for sentimental reasons. They’ve grown up listening to me sing and play, and in spite of my deficiencies they’ve grown comfortable with it. My youngest daughter Laura, for instance, still likes it when I play “Puff, the Magic Dragon,” which I did for her when she was little.
The problem with recording these songs, however, is that I have to listen to myself.
I haven’t attempted to record another song for weeks. I guess I’ve got most of 2016 to continue putting it off.
Or I could look at it another way, I guess. I’ve got the rest of 2016 to become a better singer.