More than 15 years ago, I decided I wanted to learn singing. Up until that point, I was the guy who didn’t sing. I didn’t sing in public, nor privately.
We have this image of people singing in the shower. I didn’t sing in the shower.
Singing was not part of my radar, it was invisible to me, it was a skill I never thought existed, although I could clearly see (and hear) singers. Admittedly, I didn’t listen to that many songs either, my musical culture was limited, but slowly improving as I was being contaminated by different genres.
And yet, no singing.
Until one day.
I don’t know what prompted this need. It wasn’t because I aspired to be a singer, but one day I decided I’d learn how to sing.
I searched for a teacher and found one in Florence and started taking lessons.
It wasn’t cheap, and driving there required extra money, so for me this was also a considerable investment.
But I made my choice, and I wanted to learn.
I don’t remember how the first lesson was. I do remember some of them, but I know one thing: I was terrible.
My voice was not precise, my rhythm was out of place.
That was the beginning. I remember how learning to sing Landing in London (3 Doors Down) felt difficult, although the vocal line was straightforward compared to other genres and songs.
Still, my voice felt cramped.
And yet, I continued.
Many years passed, and I kept slowly improving, but didn’t feel as though I was progressing. During that time, my taste for music changed, especially for voices. I would look for specific skills and abilities from singers because I was able to spot a good one from a bad one.
I learned about the existence of vibrato. That kind of “bouncing” pulsation some singers were able to do either spontaneously or in a controlled way by moving their belly and their breath. (I didn’t like the singers who did the latter.)
But I wasn’t good enough for that, and vibrato felt like something out of my reach.
I continued studying and practicing. The vocal exercises meant that my entire condo would hear my voice practice, me singing various notes and trying to sing songs, often with a lot of passion (even with a lack of skill). I didn’t care, but I’m sure they might have preferred something else to that torture.
I remember at one point I was about to drop out because I didn’t feel I was getting any good.
Then two things happened.
One night, I sang with some friends at a company party and some people actually did like my singing and honestly said they couldn’t believe I could improve that much (again, remember I was terrible in the beginning).
That gave me confidence.
But the true unlock was when, one day, I started producing vibrato. Spontaneously. I couldn’t control it initially, it was almost scary.
And yet, from that day on, it became part of the skill set I had.
My teacher said that it’s hard to know where we stand in our learning journey. We could be close to the next real unlock, but we’re not aware of it, and that unlock is not visible in front of us, plus we learn incrementally in small steps, so we don’t see this big shift from the inside.
But from the outside, someone listening to me after years could spot a difference.
Years later, I decided to learn improv.
I remember some people were impatient because it was so hard to get good at it.
The teacher said one thing that still stays with me today: “If you were good at it, you wouldn’t need to learn it.”
Looking back at everything I’ve learned from scratch, I know that producing something that’s not good, or sloppy, is part of the process.
Sloppy can be the way you learn. It doesn’t need to be that way forever, but it’s part of that continuous process of learning, self-correction, and evolution that every learning process contains.
While I always wanted to be talented at singing, I wasn’t. I was determined, passionate, and intentional.
Even though my results were messy, and my singing was torture in the beginning, that was enough. I was enough.
That’s a reminder to me that, while it’s easy to be sloppy nowadays, as long as it’s part of a learning curve, as long as that sloppiness is an output of low quality and not an abdication of your work, all is good. You’re learning. You are enough. You will grow.














