Noble call........

I absolutely abhor and detest sing-songs! No really, like if there was a choice between sitting through an entire sing-song or say giving Brian Cowen a big bear hug and saying “Thanks for all you’re doing for this county”, then there is a very good chance that Brian might get his first hug of 2010.

As mentioned in a previous blog, I went to see a play in town last Saturday night. There was a disco afterwards (Yes, I did write disco, an ‘80’s one – very enjoyable) and as I am a member of the same drama group, I stayed on to have a dance around my handbag and a drink or two. Come one o’clock though I spotted the guitar in the corner and knowing what this crowd are capable of I quickly made my excuses (kids, early start, etc.) and made a sharp exit out the front door.

All lies of course as my hubby is fab (sorry for sounding like a smug happily married woman but he really is) and has no problem at all with me staying out half the night while he gets up and minds the kids the next day leaving me to wallow away, half dead in the lovely warm comforting arms of my bed (I LOVE my bed so much and could elaborate here but another time, another blog).

The truth is that there is nothing whatsoever fun or entertaining about hearing a big group of people who can’t sing, sitting around bellowing out tunes or half swaying, lost in a melody as they think that they are actually giving us all a treat by exposing us all to the despairs of their talentless vocal cords.

And you’re not allowed to talk!! That’s what really gets my back up. You’ll lean over to your friend in an effort to pass the time and whisper “Did you see that documentary on channel 4 the other night?” and then twenty people will start hissing “Shh, shh, Jonny has another fifty-two verses to go. Have some respect for God’s sake. You’ll want people to listen to you when it’s your turn to sing a song. Good Man Jonny, lovely.... lovely”.
It’s even worse when Jonny starts to sing a rousing rebel song “No, Nay, never.... no, nay never no mooooore....” and then you can’t even attempt a conversation as the deafening voices of half the room unite in an attempt by every person to show eachother that they are the better singer and you find yourself enveloped in a sea of tone deafness and misery.

And why is it and almost every Irish person thinks that they can sing? And to tell someone that they can’t sing is height of ignorance and is one of the greatest insults that you can apparently ever bestow upon another human being? It’s almost as bad as saying that they have an ugly child (In fact, I actually know a few people who would probably prefer to be told that their child was hideous rather than to be told that they have the musical talent of a bag of cats).

I have a friend who once said “Rachael, how can you not enjoy sing songs when your husband is such a talented musician. I thought that you would love music”. Exactly! It’s because I love music that I cannot bear to have to sit through it’s desecration for hours on end when all I want is a good night out, one or two drinks and a chat and a laugh with my friends.

But even worse than the person who sings all night with no hope of shutting them up, is the person who is only dying to sing but pretends they don’t want to.

At the last sing-song that I had the misfortune to attend, it was after a play in a country village and as I was pregnant at the time I was also the designated driver.

I was with my two friends Mary and Dave (Not their real names but I cannot handle the fall out that would occur if I publically slated their singing talents). We ended up in the pub after the play and as soon as the sing-song started I just knew that there was just no-way I would get these two away until they had sung their peace. Dave was no problem. He had told me countless times what a wonderful singer he was and had a song and everything prepared and was only dying to be noble called (Noble call –it’s a phrase sing-songers used and if they noble call you, you have to sing or face the indignation of everyone in the room due your appalling rudeness for not having your Mariah Carey song ready to go).

Mary was another kettle of fish. She adores this sort of thing and actually organises dinner parties at her house where she arranges guitars and everything to be present but every time she goes through the same ritual of coquettish giggling and protests of “No. No, I can’t. I don’t know any songs... Heeheehee... Oh don’t make me” before she launches into her same old routine of “Crazy", or "Don’t it make my brown eyes blue”.
That night was no different.

“Rachael, I don’t want to sing”.
“Don’t so”.
“I mean, I don’t really know any current songs”
“Sure they don’t have to be current, do they?”
“I suppose not ..... do you think I should sing?”
“Sure, do what you want”. Just do it fast so we can get home.
“I’m too shy.”
“Ah, you’re not”
“I am. Anyway, they’re all such good singers here, I’d be embarrassed”.
“Are they? ..... I suppose some of them are alright but look, sing if you want to”
“I can’t”.
“You can”.
“I can’t”.

The next thing I know Dave is noble called and he launches unashamedly in to the most brutal version of “The drugs don’t work” by the Verve that I have ever heard in my entire life and my God, but it was grim. As he is totally unaware of how tone deaf and loud he is, he threw himself into that song with all the passion and fervour that he could muster which of course made the whole thing even funnier and even the most hard-core sing-songers were glancing at each other and biting their lips to stop their sniggers escaping.

I wasn’t as polite and couldn’t stop my shoulders shaking as I found myself enveloped in the most glorious fit of the giggles that you can imagine. Dave was totally oblivious to it all as he had his eyes clenched tightly shut whilst singing at the top of his lungs blissfully lost in the horror of his own making. Mercifully it came to a brief end as he discovered two thirds of the way through the song that he didn’t know all the words (another reason to hate sing songs). There was a resounding silence. It was that bad that no-one knew how to react and then after a painfully long pause, a few little polite claps escaped from throughout the crowd from the nicer and more polite people present.

“I’d go after that if I was you” I said to Mary bluntly and without further encouragement she stood up and started “Crazy, crazy for feeling so lonely.......”

Dave sat down beside me and with a big grin said, “Told you I could sing, didn’t I?”

Sweet Jesus, was he serious? How could anyone be so deluded? I couldn’t answer him and just nodded whilst pasting an insane grin across my face.

I blame the parents. Look at all those poor children on x-factor who all think that they are the next Whitney or Mariah only to face public humiliation at the hands of Simon Cowell who I might not be a fan of but provides a very good public service by telling all of these deluded wannabes to their face what we are all just dying to say. All these Mammies have spent their children’s childhood telling them that they are these wonderful talented little darlings and then they are completely crushed when Simon tells them that actually, they should come with a health warning.

I vow not to do the same to my two children. Thankfully my little darlings are wonderfully talented and actually have amazing singing voices for their age so when I tell them how fantastic and accomplished they are, it is the truth. There is no delusion here. You don’t believe me? Tell you what, call over and I’ll get them to do a little number for you. Maybe we could have a bit of a sing-song.....