Moderate, becoming good later

“OH!… MY!… GAWWD!… Whadda ya DO?”

This question was once catapulted at me from a woman working behind the counter of the MOMA gift shop in New York.

Standing at the front of the line with my Gerhard Richter postcards, I must have looked more than a little bit flummoxed and in need of some clarification…

“How’d’ya getcha voice so DEEP?! Do you do exercises or sumthin’?”

“I guess I was born with it…” I shrugged, the ridiculous image of me as a baby with a deep voice floating up in my head.

As an early developer, I’ve always been a bit self-conscious of my voice. It broke a year or two before everyone else’s and perhaps sounded unnaturally deep for an eleven year old. Having said that, I’ve always secretly fancied the thought of doing voice-overs and continuity announcements.

I moved around a bit as a youngster, growing up in Manchester, Suffolk and Derbyshire before leaving home. I’ve never really stayed in one place long enough for a strong regional accent to stick, other than having one that was vaguely northern, mixed with a bit of RP.

I think I must inherit it from my grandad. He was the first male on my mum’s side not to go down the pit, preferring to sell groceries in the local co-op instead. He won a cup in the 1920s for his singing, his golden tonsils clear of coal dust.

He was a bass soloist.

My mum, a former primary school teacher who taught me to read at an early age, would pounce on every reqional quirk I might pick up and tell me that unless I was a goalkeeper or politician I’d “never get anywhere in life talking like that”… in other words, talking like someone from her own home town.

She was right. The local neighbourhood produced a couple of well known and strongly accented people who featured on TV quite a lot in the 70s and 80s and they either threw darts, kept goal, played snooker or argued the toss in parliament. *

Our village (where the old ladies would glaze over and remember my late grandad’s ‘lovely voice’) was a working class enclave of such broad Derbyshire dialect that people regularly referred to each other as ‘thee’ and ‘tha’ and, more bizarrely, pronounced the word handle as “angle”, and the word angle as “handle”.

So when one of my colleagues thought I might be ideal for providing the voice in a covid themed spotify/instagram ad campaign directed at young adults, it was a little bit of a Jim’ll-Fix-It moment for me. I leapt at the chance to give it a go and I recorded a series of phrases for it on my phone in my slightly echoey back room.

So here I am, I’m now interrupting music in the headphones of tutting teenagers and young adults within a certain radius in the East Midlands. And, as my colleague jokingly pointed out, I now have a little portfolio of videos for any future career change.

So if anyone would like to buy my voice you know where to come, and if you ever hear me reading the shipping forecast you can rest assured that I have achieved my ultimate goal in life and the old ladies of north Derbyshire would be proud.

* Barbara Castle, Dennis Skinner, John Lukic, John Lowe, Bob Wilson, Nigel Bond, and Gordon Banks to name but a few.

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