Singing in the rain in the car, with friends.

I went up to Dallas over the weekend to see some bands play (Eisley, Pilotdrift, Midlake) and hang out with some friends (Paul, Dan, Kendal, Rob, Katie, Amy, Mindy) and some friends of friends (Pilotdrift, Eisley).

I've been thinking about friendship lately; the fact that I like it, and also how it works. When I first meet someone it can be a little awkward; especially if (and when) I offend that someone in a terribly aimed attempt at humor. The friendship usually progresses or regresses from there, depending on whether or not I like the person.

This is all background for what I realized about friendships this weekend: the situations in which you sing with a friend present are a great reflection of the level of intimacy the friendship has achieved.

Singing along at a concert requires the least amount of friendship intimacy, because it's probably too loud for you to be heard and there's a good chance that it's too dark for you to be seen. There's the chance that you might lose some respectability for singing along at a show, but you could probably pass it off as you making fun of all the other over-enthusiastic attendees.

The next step in intimacy tends to be the car sing-along. I experienced this with Paul on the way up to Dallas (Dan was sleeping). You've got music playing, which makes it easier to stay in tune and/or hide your voice between the better original vocals. You're putting yourself a little bit more out there since you can be both heard and seen, but you're still pretty in control of how out there you are. You can mouth the words to appear contemplative and respectful of the original work or you can sing as loud and far as your vocal chords will carry you, depending on comfort level. One thing to be careful of is any attempt to harmonize. This can go wrong, fast. (Side note: it's pretty much impossible to screw up singing along with rap music or famous patriotic tunes).

The ultimate level of song-singing friendship intimacy is singing by yourself with no musical accompaniment whatsoever. This situation usually occurs when you're trying to tell someone about this song you like (or hate), and they have no idea which particular tune you're talking about. Even typing this is making my palms sweaty (my palms are sweaty / I'm barely listening).

I usually start by reciting a few lyrics in complete monotone. This never works for some reason, probably to spite me. The next step is an almost always unsuccessful attempt at humming. For some reason it works on Name That Tune (often in 3 notes or less) but never with me. I'm pretty sure that this is also to spite me.

At this point I usually try to change the subject, but if it's a really good friend and a song that I really want to talk about I'll combine words with music. I seek refuge in the only remaining way: singing as obviously poorly as I can. I don't let on to my real vocal abilities, sparing myself true judgment.

I have yet to reach that point with a friend (even of the girl variety) where I showcase my true a cappella abilities. I was kind of saving that for marriage (along with sex), but after watching Sandy Cohen sing to Kirsten "Kiki" Cohen on the O.C. the other week... I've decided to take this ultimate level of openness and honesty to the grave.