You’re about 70% confident in your performance, and 30% absolutely, completely, never-endingly, totally FREAKED about your performance.
Your best performances are when you stop thinking and just SING.
There is always some kind of divide between you and instrumentalists – it genuinely feels like you speak different languages.
You know all the words to the following songs: “Horses” (Australian-specific), “Walking On Sunshine”, “Brown Eyed Girl”, “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” and “Billie Jean”.
FEMALE SINGERS: A microphone may be your only piece of gear but my word, you will bling that baby in colour/diamantes/gold. Yeah gurl.
You are always asked to sing at family gatherings, especially Christmas.
You have absolutely HONED your crowd banter chit chat skills – some key phrases include:
– “I wanna see ya’ll get dowwwwn!”
– “We have a very special guest performer about to join us – Barry! The bride’s uncle!”
– “Hey guys remember to be safe! Standing on tables can be a little risky…” [security moves through the crowd]
You do not know how to roll leads.
You know you shouldn’t, but you could avoid setup time, you know, if you wanted to. NB: this may contribute to the issue outlined in #3.
You know the minimum amount of dressing up/make up you need to do in order to be passable as a lead singer of a band, without tooooo much effort involved.
Getting sick is truthfully the WORST thing that could happen – a genuine nightmare. If someone you know is sick you will avoid them at all costs, and if they come near you, you will spray them with antibacterial spray.
When asked to sing that song just a semitone higher, your first response is: “Um, EXCUSE ME?”
Listening to a recording of yourself leads to real and actual life meltdowns.
There’s a part of you that cares what people think of your voice, then there’s an even louder and more stubborn part of you that couldn’t care less. Get stuffed critics.
You break into harmonies when you hear a song you love. This commonly turns into multiple harmonies when surrounded by other singers.
