mostly david ephgrave

I discovered today, perhaps unsurprisingly, that it's best to not attempt to sing a top Ab   Immediately after a large fried breakfast. (After  eating  the fry-up, I mean; it hadn't just sung an Ab itself.) The reason for the post-meal screech was I'd decided to pop to the office to record the jingles for next week's SG1 Radio show after a spot of petit déjeuner (French) with my wife (English). While the timing wasn't perfect, it was still easier than last week's 'session', when I had barely recovered from losing my voice; it seems my vocal range is less hindered by a stodge-coated gullet. (Pleasing image.)  The theme for next week's show is 'WHAT?!', in the sense that we'll be discussing the things we find ridiculous, or don't understand. While I like the topic, I hadn't accounted for how hard it would be to sing the word 'what' twice in quick succession, without the second one sounding like 'twat'...

When I recorded the jingle for this Sunday’s 'In Your Inner Ear' today I nearly burst. I’ve mentioned this self-created predicament here before. Each week, we tackle a different subject on our show, and each week, I record an acapella sting (not Gordon Sumner) to accompany it. The theme for this week’s programme is ‘hate’ (as in “I hate Gordon Sumner”) – and, thanks to me deciding to make my jingles go up in semitone increments, the highest note in the latest one is a top C. Despite fearing I’d rupture something in the process, it took fewer takes than usual; either the notes are getting easier to reach or I’m starting to care less. It’s hard to tell. Whatever the case may be, I can’t see me going higher from here on in. When you’ve spanned an octave, it’s probably time to come back down again; resorting to falsetto would be a coward’s way out.

It’s hard to sing a top Bb discreetly in a tiny room in a shared office building without drawing attention to yourself. I say “sing”, when I in fact mean “screech”. The reason for my repeated attempts to hit a note that's a tone out of my vocal range was I was putting together a jingle for this Sunday’s In Your Inner Ear , which we’re prerecording tonight. It wasn’t a pretty sound, I can tell you. It didn’t help that I was trying to achieve the impossible task of singing both full out and quietly at the same time. It's a good job there wasn’t a mirror in view, or I’d have been subjected to some strange facial expressions in the process. The other people in the building must have heard me. It would have been hard not to. They probably wondered what the hell I was up to. “Why is the socially awkward half of those two blokes who rent that broom cupboard as a workspace shouting the word ‘life’ at the top of his voice?” they'd have thought (or words to that effect)...

Singing a one-word five-part harmony of a minor seventh chord has been a weekly event for the past few months.  The reason I've been unleashing my inner-Beach-Boy is to record jingles for our new radio show; one for every topic-of-choice, going up a semitone each week. While the results are amusing, I can’t help but think I’ve created a rod for my own back. The first chord was a Cmin7, with a top C as its highest note, which was easy enough to reach. The chord for Sunday’s show (episode nine) is a G#min7, featuring a top G#, which is a semitone higher than the peak of my official vocal range. If I carry on like this, by September, I’ll be singing notes only dogs can hear; dogs, not Doggetts. Perhaps I’m being over-dramatic. I can use different chord inversions in future to prevent any unnecessary screeching; either that, or come back down the scale. I’m the one making the rules here, damn it. Having said that, I like to challenge myself. I won’t stop until ...

If you had happened to walk past mine and Glyn's office earlier today and strain your ears upward, you might have heard me sing the word 'famous' repeatedly, using the notes that make up a Dm7 chord. Likewise, if you were in the vicinity of our tiny workspace twelve days previously, you may have witnessed me go through a similar process with the word 'awkward', a semitone lower. If you did, I haven’t lost it: I was recording jingles for Doggett & Ephgrave's new radio show . I dread to think what the people we share the building with think. I’m always making noises they might perceive as being suspect. If I’m not singing, I’m talking to myself, running through my material. The fact that they know I’m comedian doesn’t help. It could be a convenient front. You can be a performer and be unhinged; it pretty much goes with the territory. At least I had the decency to record week one’s Cm7 'death’ chord at home. I thought I’d save that for worryin...

While my wife was out earning a living today, I was at home, recording these. This is what I do with my time. This is what I laughingly call a career. Other people save lives, fight wars and cure diseases; I make noises. It’s not for me to decide which is of most use to society (it’s clearly the first three). What can I say? I spent my day harmonising with myself. I’m like a one-man Bee Gee (though the same could now be said of Barry Gibb.) The reason for my strange mantra-like repetitions of four words in a variety of styles is for them to act as jingles for mine and Glyn’s radio show ‘Doggett & Ephgrave: In Your Inner Ear’, which starts this Sunday. We wanted our stings to be slightly surreal and purposely crap, to give us something to bounce off, and then deconstruct on air. These should do the job. There’s no point in us using anything that’s too slick or too cheesy, as it wouldn’t sit comfortably with what we do. That’s not to say that the show will be a shambles; that’s the...