If I’d lost my singing voice I’d have lost my identity too

I had always got a lot of joy out of singing: My first gig was when I was 14, on an open lorry that became a stage. 

My parents had a pub and they put on a bank-holiday festival with musicians. All the village came. 

I was invited to participate: I sang ‘Streets of London’ and ‘Clare to Here’. It was my first public taste of performing; it was brilliant, amazing, to sing with other musicians to an audience.

In my 20s, I performed professionally in clubs and pubs. I moved to Ireland and applied to University College Cork to study music. 

I’d always gravitated to Irish music. I remember playing upstairs in the Lobby with my husband, Carl, also a musician, in the early noughties: Standing on the stage in this intimate setting, huge, long windows looking out on the quay. 

There was a real sense of connection with everyone in that room; it was profound, and something I’ve carried with me.

And then, around 2010, due to family, career choices — I was working in music promotion — I stopped playing.

So in October 2019 — after hardly performing in nine years — I was facing this operation, with risk of damage to the laryngeal nerve. 

It was one of those moments of self-awareness: I felt I’d lost something; a sense of my creative self. 

Like, ‘Hang on, why haven’t I been performing? What if I can’t sing and all these years I could have been?’ The joy I’d got from performing and suddenly there was this possibility I could lose it.

Waking up after surgery, I immediately thought of my voice. I tried to speak, but nothing came out, not even a whisper. 

It was the strangest feeling: You go to say something and there’s nothing. 

The surgeon came, said the nodule had been the size of a small orange, and that the operation had gone well, with no damage to the nerves, but a lot of bruising. 

I’d probably develop some sort of hoarseness, he said. How long this could last varied between individuals: Weeks, months, possibly years.

This was about voice recovery: Speaking voice. But I thought, ‘How will it affect my singing voice?’ Which is a whole other thing. Your singing voice is an instrument.

My speaking voice: I sounded like Marge Simpson for a good year — very whispery, alien — before it started sounding normal. Probably six weeks post-surgery and I tried to sing with some musician friends and I couldn’t. 

As a singer, I’d had an alter ego: I’d named my singing voice Sylvie. We all have versions of ourselves, things that define us; it felt like I’d lost this part, an old friend I’d neglected. 

I felt very vulnerable, insecure; a strange, unsettling feeling. There was sadness, guilt, grief.

And the not-quite-knowing whether it would ever actually come back. A year passed. At some point, I could probably sing two notes and that was it: I couldn’t get any further. 

There was nothing, just… flat, no power, no melody. I’d always gravitated towards strong female singers, reaching those high, soft notes, that range. 

Having that power, you know, you hit it every time; it’s amazing to be able to do; really empowering. You have that power and conviction, and then to have it taken; like going to play a guitar and half the strings have snapped. 

And I felt guilty that I wasn’t appreciating I’d had this operation: It had gone well, I’d woken up, I had a family, a great life.

Covid hit in March 2020 and there was time in limbo. I decided I was definitely going to perform again: I could still play the bodhrán.

Coming out of Covid, 2021, I started joining Carl, who was going out solo as a performance punk poet, but my voice was so weak, like an adolescent boy’s voice breaking. That was so distressing.

Then, I started to feel some power coming back in to my singing voice and I went with that. But, really, I wasn’t able to let my voice rip; that singing part felt compromised.

September 2023, we were playing the Corner House in Cork. There’s a song on our album — ‘History Stops’ — that I would take lead vocal on. 

There’s a part where it gets quite high. You really need strength in your voice to get that: And I hit it, and it was amazing. 

And my friend, Mairéad, said, ‘Oh, Jesus, I think your voice is back!’ And I said, ‘Yes, I think it is.’ Relief isn’t big enough. 

I felt suddenly empowered again. I’d felt such loss about my voice and now it was back. It was like releasing something that had been caged.

It’s a fact that for so long I took my voice for granted. Now I appreciate it: I just want to get out there; perform more. 

I’ve been given a second chance. And I’ve learned to nurture things I hold dear.

• Punk/folk outfit Wasps vs Humans have released their debut album, ‘Scratchcard Empires’, which is available to download at https://waspsvshumans.bandcamp.com/, and usual online platforms.
• They are performing alongside Jinx Lennon at Levis’ in Ballydehob as part of the Feelgood Festival on October 19.