Self tape life

The brief lands on a Tuesday and it's due Thursday. You learn the cut, you push the sofa back, you set the phone up on a stack of books, and you sing the same sixteen bars twenty-two times until you can't tell any more whether it's good.

Then you send take fourteen because you've run out of evening.

Nobody hears the song properly. Nobody coaches the cut. And the thing representing you in that room was made by you, alone, at the end of a long day, with no one to tell you which take was the one.

 What to expect :

A singing lesson and a self-tape, in the same session.

BODY We work the song properly first — the cut, the key, the intention, the bits that keep falling over. That's a real lesson, not a soundcheck.

Then we film it. Multiple takes, proper framing, decent sound, and someone in the room who can tell you honestly which one to send.

You leave with tapes you're happy to have out there, and with the song genuinely better than it was when you walked in. That second part is the bit that keeps paying off long after this audition has come and gone.