Sing Easy?

Originally published on Medium on Aug 25, 2025

Why do I sing? Why do I teach? Why did I create The Sing Easy?

It started in the mid-2000s, in a freshly painted home studio in Brunswick, Melbourne. I was starting to gain momentum in my music career and I wanted to figure out a way to make money to support said music career that wasn’t working in pubs, so I’d put an ad out — I can’t even remember where — and somehow people started calling. My roommate, a dance teacher, told me: “You’ve got something to offer. Just get people in and figure it out.”

So I sat there, folder of half-borrowed notes in hand, absolutely shitscared, waiting for my first student.

Melissa walked in. I expected her to say she needed help with technique or pitch. Instead, she looked me dead in the eye and said:
“I love singing. But I’ve been told I’m not very good at it. So I came here so you can tell me once and for all that I should stop, so I can put that dream behind me if I have to.”

In that instant, every ounce of my self-doubt disappeared. Without hearing her sing a single note I said:
“That’s just not going to happen.”

Six weeks later, this “tone-deaf” woman had three octaves and full pitch recognition. More importantly, she had her joy back. That was the moment I got hooked — not on teaching “technique,” but on burning down the lie that anyone should ever be told they don’t deserve to sing.

From there, I pieced together my own approach — part science, part trial-and-error, part obsession with solving the puzzle of voice. I taught while pulling pints, worked through my own vocal struggles, and eventually went full-time when I moved to New York.

Brooklyn brought me Broadway singers, recording artists, TV actors — and just as often, people who wanted one thing: permission. Permission to take up space. Permission to risk sounding “bad.” Permission to love the sound of their own voice without apology.

Here’s the thing: singing isn’t just art, it’s biology. When we sing — especially together — our cortisol drops (goodbye stress), our oxytocin spikes (hello connection), and our heartbeats and breath literally sync up. Group toning, humming, even just making weird noise together, is one of the fastest ways humans regulate our nervous systems. Which makes sense — long before therapy apps and mindfulness podcasts, we had music. We had each other’s voices.

And that’s what The Sing Easy is: not a choir, not a class where you get graded, but a messy, joyful experiment in being human together. A place where you can belt, hum, wobble off-key, and discover that the world doesn’t end — in fact, you feel better. You walk out lighter, more connected, a little less alone.

The idea scared the crap out of me, honestly. I’d worked one-on-one for years. Group singing felt like the final frontier. But then I remembered my own youth in Perth — being embraced by musicians when I couldn’t always find that safety in my family. We were just kids hanging out in rooms, playing, experimenting, singing and making music, showing up with who we were because it felt good. That belonging saved me. And it planted the seed for what I now offer other people.

So here we are. Not polished. Not perfect. Just voices in a room, finding each other, finding themselves.

That’s why I do this. That’s why I sing. That’s why The Sing Easy exists.