Those classes had also included exercises to help increase her vocal range. She’d practiced them, but she wasn’t getting the results she wanted.
My teacher did say a narrow range shouldn’t be an obstacle to becoming a singer, so at least there’s that…
Her teacher wasn’t wrong…technically. Kon knew of plenty of professional singers who didn’t have a huge range. You didn’t have to sing in as wide a range as possible to be successful. Mastering the range you did have, picking the perfect songs to maximize your voice’s natural charm—that was an option, too. It might even be the better way to go about it.
But still! I’ve always admired singers who can flawlessly hit those really high notes and build a reputation around that.
It was an ideal that she just couldn’t give up. Reality, however, seemed to have other ideas.
The voice training I’m doing now won’t cut it on its own. Isn’t there a more effective way to train? Or maybe…
Could it be that no matter how much training she did, she’d never get the effects she wanted? Were the limits of her vocal range baked into her body? That possibility weighed heavily on Kon’s heart. Mixed in with it was the worry that she just wasn’t good enough.
Kon sighed, trying to push all those anxieties away as she left the store with new resolve. She couldn’t worry about that stuff right now. If she wanted to pass her auditions and kickstart her career, she had to focus on what she could do.
Okay, time to go to karaoke and practice, practice, practice!
Adopting a more positive outlook, she made her way to her favorite karaoke parlor.
✦ ✦ ✦
After singing a couple dozen songs, Kon stepped out of her karaoke room and into the hallway to refill her drink.
Aw, it’s no use… I still can’t seem to get my voice to go as high as I want it to.
She put her hand on her throat and coughed lightly. Getting fired up and coming here to practice her singing was all well and good, but the more she sang, the more the difference between her current voice and the ideal she had in her head became painfully obvious. It was always like this. Whether practicing on her own or going to a coaching session, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to improve.
My voice sounds so plain. My pitch, tone, volume… None of them are anything to write home about. I wish I could project my voice better and have more presence and hit those high notes without having to strain.
Singing like that must feel amazing. To sing with a voice that was high, and clear, and powerful. A voice that could dispel people’s gloom and make an entire venue feel like a warmer place, filled with sweetness and light. If only she had a voice like that.
“Hmm…?”
On the way to the drinks bar, Kon heard something that made her stop and listen. Somebody’s voice was coming through from one of the other rooms. That was nothing special, except…
“Wow… What a beautiful voice…!”
She found it absolutely enchanting. The speakers in the hallway played background music at a fairly high volume to cancel out any noise that might leak out of the rooms. But this voice came through loud and clear over that, keeping the melody going the whole time.
Whoever it was, they were singing a song Kon knew well. It was an up-tempo song about fantastical nighttime scenery. It had some tricky high notes and changes in pitch and tone that needed a lot of skill to get right. And this person was doing it all perfectly.
“Is it a girl? She might be the same age as me… Singing must be so much fun when you can get your voice to do whatever you want it to.”
Kon wondered what kind of training this singer did. Or was it an innate talent that came to her naturally? Either way, it felt a little unfair. Why did people have to be born with such vast differences in their talents and abilities? And why could some people never close that gap, no matter how much effort they put in?
Just as she was thinking those petty thoughts, the singing stopped, and the door to that room opened.
The singer was indeed a girl about Kon’s own age. She had striking silver hair and wore a flashy neon-pink hoodie. Her right eye was covered by an eye patch with a crossed-through heart on it.
Kon found herself staring. The other girl must have noticed, because she turned to face her.
“What’s up?” the girl asked with a bright smile.
From the way she was dressed, Kon hadn’t expected her to be so friendly. What a relief she’d been wrong.
“Sorry, I just… I heard you singing from out here,” she replied.
“You did? Oh man, how embarrassing.”
“You sounded really good, though! You were singing that last song like a pro.”
“You think so?”
“For sure! I wish I could sing that song as perfectly as you did.”
“Oh…?” The girl’s one uncovered eye narrowed, as if Kon had said something very significant.
“Oh…?” What kind of response is that? Why not just say “Thank you,” or “It’s nothing, really”?
That was a little odd, but Kon was more interested in this girl than ever now. It wasn’t every day you met someone with a voice like that, even in Kon’s classes and coaching sessions. Maybe this girl knew some crazy secret to becoming a better singer that most people didn’t know about. Maybe that was what her weird “Oh…?” had been hinting at. It couldn’t hurt to ask anyway.
“Hey, where did you learn to sing like that? Did you do any kind of special training method?” said Kon.
“Nah, nothing like that.”
“O-oh… So you were always that good a singer, huh…?”
Kon’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. So much for the secret to good singing known to only a select few.
I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.
Reality was rarely so kind. This was the perfect reminder of that. But then…
“No, I didn’t start out as a good singer. But I didn’t take lessons or train or anything, either. I mean, why do that when there’s an easy way to make anyone’s singing better?”
“Huh…?”
What did that mean? Kon looked at the girl again. She still had that bright, kind smile on her face.
“Since you seem so serious about getting better, I’ll tell you about it, okay?”
With that, the girl reached up to the black choker around her neck and pulled it down. There was something stuck to her neck underneath it—a set of some kind of mechanical-looking buttons. Three of them, all lined up in a row.
Looking closer, they seemed to have writing on them. And they weren’t buttons so much as knobs or dials. They had grooves on the side and looked like they could be turned in either direction.