Even if people say you look cool and you did well, it's extremely cringey to watch yourself rocking out. It's like listening to your own voice on an answering machine times a hundred, because you're hearing your voice through a microphone outside of a PA at a hundred decibels.
I do have a huge problem, a huge problem. In fact, worse than watching is hearing. I cannot stand to hear my own voice. When it's coming out of my mouth right now it sounds fantastically interesting to me. It's rich in light and shade, it goes up and down. But when I hear it either on TV or even on someone's answering machine, I just sound like I've had half my brain removed.
Experiencing yourself out of context, divorced from your usual point of view, skews your perspective – it’s like hearing your voice on an answering machine. It’s almost like meeting a stranger; or discovering a talent you never knew you had.
Like most people, you listen to yourself on the phone or an answering machine and you're like, 'Ugh.' So to do something with just your voice is hard.
I think people who aren't in film experience that when they hear their voice on an answering machine or something.
No one is calling me. I can’t check the answering machine because I have been here all this time. If I go out, someone may call while I’m out. Then I can check the answering machine when I come back in.
The void is ready to snatch you up like a Pac Man machine and Laskshmi is on vacation. You chant Sring - and you get her answering machine.
What has praise and fame to do with poetry? Was not writing poetry a secret transaction, a voice answering a voice? So that all this chatter and praise, and blame and meeting people who admired one and meeting people who did not admire one was as ill suited as could be to the thing itself- a voice answering a voice.
Not saving you from this storm, mutant,” he said. “Saving you for your later fate, we are.” His voice was weirdly inflected and metallic, like an automated answering machine. “Oh, good. Yoda captured us,” Fang whispered.
I can't handle my own voice, even hearing it echoing on a cell phone. It's horrible.
You know, if you ever listen to your voice on an answering machine everyone thinks we sound dreadful. That's sort of the way I think when I hear myself speak.
I'm not an answering machine, I'm a questioning machine. If we have all the answers, how come we're in such as mess?
Working on my own vocals is something I've been avoiding. But, I'm constantly thinking of ways to be able to include my own vocals without getting embarrassed. Even John Lennon wasn't comfortable on hearing his voice.
Only two things change when you get older: the energy in your voice and the time of night you feel it's appropriate to call someone. In your 20s, people call at 2 a.m. and yell, 'Are you up?' into the answering machine. Now, someone calls after 8 p.m., and my boyfriend is like, 'Who is that? Who could be calling at this hour?'
I've been on, like, the forefront of social media. I run all my own pages, and this is back to MySpace and answering my own emails in, like, 2006. Even before that, I always had websites with emails that dropped directly to me.
I can't listen to my own voice. I change my voicemail on my machine literally every week because I'm so obsessed with getting the right tone of voice.