Cigarettes MAY Cause Cancer of the Ear
So, last night at New Year's, some serious effort was put forth to karaoke with a live band. I guess the technical term for this is "jamming." But I feel like this still qualifies as relevant to this blog, provided that the jamming session does not cross that bar of quality differentiating jamming from "performing" or "practicing." I think it's also especially relevant to LYA in this case because the musicians all knew way more chords to songs than the singers knew lyrics to songs, making it all the more karaoke-esque.
Now that I've justified posting to LYA for the first time in months, allow me to present the topic of this post: the hazards of cigarettes. In this case, cigarillos, actually. And ambient smoke, more generally. (For those who aren't somehow precognizant of terms I invent for things on the fly, "ambient smoke" is differentiated from second-hand smoke by its dispersion and accumulation, which allows it to occupy an entire building with essentially uniform thickness and no identifiable source. It is the reason why I can walk into a certain building for a brief five-minute visit, and emerge smelling of smoke, despite the building having been mostly empty for several hours, and not containing any active smokers.)
Now that definitions are in order, let me arrive at my anecdote, to be followed immediately by my public service announcement. The anecdote is that just minutes before starting to sing (in fact, on my way down to the singing room), I lit up a little cigarillo with visions of giving myself a more raspy, sultry voice, and found, much to my dismay, that the cigarillo had debilitated my lungs to the point that I could not even sing "Boulevard of Broken Dreams." Everyone has their songs that are easy or hard for them. Boulevard is generally one of the easiest for me to do, in terms of both range and inflection. I can't speak to the quality of my performances (if they are amazing, I prefer to remain humble, and if they are horrific, I prefer to maintain the illusion that they might be amazing). But as far as effort goes, it is generally low. Yet, last night I couldn't get past the first "road" without having at least six notes go sour.
It's unfair, though, to attribute all of the vocal wickedness to a single cigarillo. Rather, I imagine that what happened was a slow marinating process, in which my lungs were seasoned with 100 years' worth of ambient smoke, then flash-fried in the fumes of the cigarillo. And it's not unthinkable that a few pieces of ash from the fireplace may have snuck into my lungs as garnish.
Public Service Announcement:
Smoke temporarily destroyed my singing ability and I can barely speak this morning, but the voice of my friend who chain smokes was not affected at all. Instead, he just sounds sort of weird all the time.
Now that I've justified posting to LYA for the first time in months, allow me to present the topic of this post: the hazards of cigarettes. In this case, cigarillos, actually. And ambient smoke, more generally. (For those who aren't somehow precognizant of terms I invent for things on the fly, "ambient smoke" is differentiated from second-hand smoke by its dispersion and accumulation, which allows it to occupy an entire building with essentially uniform thickness and no identifiable source. It is the reason why I can walk into a certain building for a brief five-minute visit, and emerge smelling of smoke, despite the building having been mostly empty for several hours, and not containing any active smokers.)
Now that definitions are in order, let me arrive at my anecdote, to be followed immediately by my public service announcement. The anecdote is that just minutes before starting to sing (in fact, on my way down to the singing room), I lit up a little cigarillo with visions of giving myself a more raspy, sultry voice, and found, much to my dismay, that the cigarillo had debilitated my lungs to the point that I could not even sing "Boulevard of Broken Dreams." Everyone has their songs that are easy or hard for them. Boulevard is generally one of the easiest for me to do, in terms of both range and inflection. I can't speak to the quality of my performances (if they are amazing, I prefer to remain humble, and if they are horrific, I prefer to maintain the illusion that they might be amazing). But as far as effort goes, it is generally low. Yet, last night I couldn't get past the first "road" without having at least six notes go sour.
It's unfair, though, to attribute all of the vocal wickedness to a single cigarillo. Rather, I imagine that what happened was a slow marinating process, in which my lungs were seasoned with 100 years' worth of ambient smoke, then flash-fried in the fumes of the cigarillo. And it's not unthinkable that a few pieces of ash from the fireplace may have snuck into my lungs as garnish.
Public Service Announcement:
Smoke temporarily destroyed my singing ability and I can barely speak this morning, but the voice of my friend who chain smokes was not affected at all. Instead, he just sounds sort of weird all the time.
posted by Joneseee at 7:41 AM
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