I had always known something wasn’t right with my voice but, like many singers, I assumed it was my fault. For 14 years I’d worked professionally in theatre, hiding the fact that every few months, my voice would completely disappear. Despite steaming my head over bowls of hot water, giving up alcohol and praying to Dr Theatre, as the final curtain fell on each production my melodic soprano would disintegrate into a husky Tom Waits. A few days of silence and it would return. The shame I felt at losing my voice was paralysing. But why?
All performers feel the pressure to deliver. It’s a competitive industry and if you take time off you can be replaced. Singers have always been held to a different kind of scrutiny though. If an athlete sprains their ankle it’s an occupational hazard – we sympathise. But when a singer loses their voice we question their technique, their lifestyle, even their commitment.
