Losing My Voice To Find It By Mark Stuartنموونە

The song “Lonely Man” began with Tyler’s guitar riff, building to the point of explosion, then detonating with pounding drums and bass. The tracks went down quickly. I wanted the song to sound live on the tape, to capture the energy behind it. The band accomplished that amazingly. All that was left was vocals.

In addition to losing control of my vocal register, my range was also shrinking. I couldn’t consistently hit the notes required in the song. I’d hit it on one part of the song, and in the next my vocals would slip or disappear entirely. I tried multiple takes and continually landed on the hopeless side of hope. . . . 

After everyone left, I wrote lyrics and experimented with arrangements I thought I’d be able to sing. The studio was dark except for a single light near the mixing board, where I could cue the song over and over again. The lyrics were a cathartic spotlight into my life. They opened with great swagger: “I got some game and I got some style.” Then, as a defense against the pressures of performance, “My secret’s safe, can’t read my mind.” 

Next came the ecclesiastical futility I was experiencing with my stage life, along with my nihilistic response: “It all comes down so I break it down.” By the end of the song, I’m begging for someone to “take some time / you can see inside.” But warning, “You’ll never know me ’cause I’ve always lied.” At the end of it all, the chorus repeats over the angry guitar riff, “I am a lonely man.”

I punched the track to record the chorus. I tried singing it but couldn’t hit the notes. I tried again. And again. Anger built. I yelled it. The tracks were playing through headphones, so all that could be heard in the studio was my broken voice screaming “I am a lonely man” over and over and over. All the emotion was there, but not all the vocal came out. I couldn’t even voice my anger. I started crying. I couldn’t stop. I cried into the darkness and into the emptiness until I felt nothing at all. 

I erased most of what I recorded that night, but I did leave with the knowledge of just how lonely I was. I changed the lyrics so nobody would know the song was about me. I turned off the light and walked out into the darkness.