FINDING MY VOICE, AGAIN by Frances Livings
I just found myself Googling“ how to start singing after having stopped for a while.” I’ m seeing that as a good sign. As a beginning. During the pandemic, I went mute. I was shocked and silenced, like many of us. But that wasn’ t the only reason. The MeToo movement had been deeply triggering as well, like for many of us. I personally found the sudden reality of having Trump as president quite unbearable on top of everything else. So during the COVID-19 shutdown— amid the riots following George Floyd’ s murder— I became paralyzed by anxiety.
My regular performances with my Latinjazz project, Frances Livings’ Ipanema Lounge, came to a screeching halt— and with them, most of my income. So after years of regularly performing with some amazing musicians, I fell into deep isolation. I wasn’ t set up with recording devices to stage online sessions or concerts, and disorientation slowly spread. I especially missed my fun Brazilian rhythm section and my ever-reliable guitarist and MD. My piano playing may have improved but something inside of me withered away. The lines of one of my songs, Eating the Darkness, looping in my head:
Wandering rooms like in quarantine I’ m staring at the clock, on elasticated time brain waves flickering, mercury mind like a black’ n white TV in 1969
Am I losing my mind, losing my mind? Just staring at the clock, on elasticated time
And I sit here eating the darkness And the darkness eats at me …
Apparently— which is strangely comforting— many singers, especially those who are independent and not tied to cultural institutions, like opera houses, have felt the same way. Vocal teachers are specifically addressing“ how to start singing again after a long break,” assuming months or years of not using the voice and framing it as a normal, trainable return— rather than a failure. Because that’ s what I’ ve been struggling with: seeing my silence not as a pause, but as a collapse. Because I can’ t help beating myself up for letting a huge lump of my identity crumble and not being resistant or robust enough to steer against it happening.
We all know from experience: the longer we put something off, the harder it is to pick it up again. And singing— especially when performing for hours, even across multiple sets— is intensely physical, profoundly personal. It’ s not just about producing sound. As a lead singer, you must stay mentally and visually present throughout; even when another musician takes a solo( sometimes many more bars than intended), eyes often fall on you. A singer can make or break a fellow musician’ s applause simply by the way he or she reacts.
My love of performing was instilled and supported very early on, in school, ballet, or tap dance class. It’ s why working on the side as a museum guide comes fairly naturally to me. The hard part is learning all the dates and names by heart, which is also, when performing, the biggest challenge— learning the lyrics, unless I’ ve written them myself.
Returning to Germany has brought another wave of culture shock, even though the move was meant to support my health and my loss of income. I was hired for some wellpaid and both intellectually and creatively satisfying freelance jobs: I translated multiple audio guides from German to English for some renowned museums and historic gardens. My performer juices started flowing again as I coached the other English-speaking actors and voiced some parts of the recordings myself. Those were my highlights when I could feel my professional performer pulse returning.
Yet after nearly twenty years in Los Angeles— a city of performers, color,
20 AT THE MOVIES