Road to Self-Employment

I spent 13 hours in A&E on the 1st of January 2024.

Sickness is a spiritual problem; a reminder that time is always shorter than we think it is, and that our lives are not made up of those one-in-a-lifetime trips to exotic places, but rather the hundreds of rituals we perform each day. From how we greet our family at the door, the patterns of food we eat, to the decisions we make about how we spend our time.

I’d ignored all the signs telling me it was time to pay attention.

I had left the English comprehensive schooling system before anyone heard me sing. Music lessons were, and still are in many of the places where music still exists, a soft social history at best, and an opportunity for bashing the DJ buttons and demo tracks on plastic keyboards in reality. Music was one of those secret, guilty passions; the kind of friend you kept your parents from meeting. You wouldn’t dare.

I started piano lessons with a wonderful lady nearing retirement, shortly after my 15th birthday. She didn’t take ‘older’ people, but I’m so grateful that she did. We rattled through the grades, and I had to sing as part of the aural skills. I’d been inspired by the piano playing of Ray Charles and wanted to learn. I still love Jazz styles, but she encouraged me to persevere with what we call ‘Classical’ music.

I sang in public for the very first time on GCSE results day with a Jazz trio. I still have the clip, which may yet see the light of day. It’s what you might expect from an adolescent performer. The feedback changed the course of my life.

My cousin once introduced me to someone in the following way: ‘This is Ben. He’s a closet singer.’ He wasn’t wrong.

Performers are acutely aware that they are only ever as good as their last performance. Such a belief becomes especially pernicious when we stop iterating, and hold on to a former glory. I didn’t understand voice parts, range, genre, reading music, or anything about how singing works. That blissfully ignorant first phase of learning any new skill, where we charge in without preconceived judgment, was over as soon as it began. I became aware of my many shortcomings.

Singing became a wrestling match with embarrassment.

The problem was that despite this, it was something that I needed to do.

After leaving College at 18, I set a goal. I believed I wouldn’t be good enough to get into Conservatoire (Music College) and I couldn’t find a teacher within a 50-mile radius willing to hear me. Another beautiful influence on my life would teach me to sing intermittently between her chemotherapy treatments, despite also losing her husband at this time. I believed I could get to Conservatoire if first I had University level music tuition.

By the time I was 19, I’d gone back to 6th form for A-level Music and had achieved both Grade 8 Piano and Grade 8 Singing with Distinction, and the A grade I needed for University. I’d convinced a friend that we should go busking, with the rationale that if I could survive singing on the streets of Middlesbrough, I could survive anywhere. Embarrassment, shame, cringe - it was all an obstacle to be blasted through.

Smooth sailing. Until I got there.

I was so nervous about singing in my first ‘proper’ session in an institution that I subconsciously scratched my hands so intensely that I made them bleed. I still have scars on both hands. A strange reminder of how far I have come.

A senior member of staff told me that I would never be a professional because I lacked a background in Church Music. Sitting before rehearsals, I was told to ‘watch my tone today’ (vocal quality) before I sang a note. Perhaps the most brutal feedback of all was the descent from ‘I’ve not heard such potential in a young voice in a long time’ to ‘I seem to remember thinking you had an interesting voice at the start of the year’. All of this hits hard when you don’t know the rules yet.

This barely scratches the surface.

Don’t let your schooling get in the way of your education.

Back to paying attention.

I have a deep sense of when things aren’t right, or not what they could be. It gnaws at me in my dreams, like an alternative version of myself reminding me of who I could be. Perhaps this is something we all share. Our American friends are high-fives when it comes to anything resembling failure, celebrating the fact that you missed, this time, but that is simply a step toward total success. In Britain, failure tends to resemble something akin to multi-generational shame. I think this is why we’re so unwilling to act on what could be. The problem is that we become passive observers in our own lives. Someone else makes the decisions for us.

Don’t be fooled into thinking your life is Groundhog Day. Your choices, not your circumstances, govern who you become.

I’d tried a range of employment, some enjoyed more than others. I’ve been a gardener, retail worker, Christmas tree salesman (highly recommend!), barista, waiter, arts administrator, charity worker, primary school teacher, secondary school teacher, restaurant pianist, HR person, I tried door-to-door sales, stunt double work, local council, temping, and more.

It was a long road to taking the jump, full-time on my own. I’ve been registered as a business for nearly 8 years, but it never felt like it could be a reality for much longer than a project or two ahead. Musically, I’ve always felt like the outsider looking in.

Certain rites of passage were never open doors to me in the first place, it just took some time to realise. You can spend eternity in the boxes others put you in.

As young ‘classical’ singers, uniquely as far as I know in terms of vocal pedagogy, we are told we are not ready. That the voice will come, in time. This is a half-truth. Of course, age will change the maturity of the voice and the repertoire it can access, but don’t be fooled into trading time for the promises of others who stand to profit from it. You’re too young, until quite suddenly, you’re not. There currently exist nowhere near as many opportunities to make a living as you would be led to believe.

But that is precisely why I am doing what I am doing, why I’ve gone all-in on this.

I make music with hundreds of people each week. No amount of doubt, fear of failure, or embarrassment was going to stop me from clawing my way to where I am today. I support my wife and two young children, with music as my vessel. I do this because I believe that the human desire to be heard will never go away. In all the years that I’ve attempted to do something other than what I’m doing, I’ve felt somewhat lost, deprived, ‘rudderless’ as one of my late gardening clients said. For the first time in this journey so far, I feel like I have a voice. Not just one for singing, but for inviting people to engage in this wonderful tradition that has been handed to us, that will decay without our nurture.

So many people have been deprived of a quality opportunity to experience the rewards that music brings; be it with your health, confidence, social benefits, intellectual, to be part of something bigger in a world that feels increasingly atomised, or simply for fun. The worthwhile things that really matter transcend generational expedience. They become ‘Classics’. Music is a lot like time travel. We hear what generations before us heard, their big ideas communicated, from times materially far more difficult than our own.

By New Year’s Day of 2024, I’d run myself into the ground, neglecting all the warning signs. I’m now busier than ever before, but the mission itself is restorative. The fear of failure when trying to build something that does not yet exist can appear insurmountable. But eventually, if it is something that you must do, you will start to take steps.

If you built the obstacle, you can overcome it.

In my teaching studio, performance practice, and various ensembles, so many people are desperately trying to be ‘perfect’. In doing so, they burden themselves with expectations before they ever sing a note. Now, I experience people overcoming these obstacles every day.

Build the business. Learn the skill. Take lots of little exploratory steps, rather than trying to arrive perfectly on your first attempt. In time, the obstacles become the building blocks.

Thank you for reading this personal view. If you are interested in learning to sing, please feel welcome to visit my Studio Page.