The invisible, and thereby quite portable, hand mic lies close to the top of my bag of tricks, so when the space is small enough -- interior to an automobile not yet started let alone on the road, a shower stall with its curtain of water, and of course, the interior of my own skull -- that small space engineers itself for great sound, something worth recording.
Under those proper conditions, the drama, sensitivity, and lyrical tang of my voice, while certainly not professional, holds and conveys a modest portion of emotional 'truth'.
My 'natural key' is that of Frank Sinatra (". . .In the wee small hours of the morning/When the whole wide world is fast asleep/I lie awake and think about the girl/And never, ever think of counting sheep . . ..")
This day I began spontaneously to entune " . . . In this world/Of ordinary people/Extra-ordinary people . . .." It struck me right away that my 'natural key' is also that of my newly-installed garage door opener.
Going to Starbucks began on a duet.
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