Actually, it's a little like driving a bike in Italy (see my post "weird things in Italy part 1").
I started as a freelance speaker 4 years ago. One day I just decided that it was about to realize my long lost dream of being a dubber, and so I booked a studio and made a demo. As a side product of this project I became a speaker for spots in radio and TV.
When I told my mom I wanted to be a dubber, she said "Ah. Ok. Well. Give it a go. But don't quit your day job". So when I actually managed to land some jobs as a dubber, she said "Ah. Ok. Well. That seems nice. But don't quit your day job". Wise words mommy, because in fact there are about 5 people in Finland who make a living as a full time dubber/speaker. And boy are they goooooooooooood. Their voices are like velvet. If I compare myself to them, I sound like the barn door.
One of my favorite Finnish voices is Jukka Voutilainen. I almost peed my pants when I got to meet him last August. I just stood there listening him talk. He doesn't have a voice like velvet, but he's an original. My speaker idol.
article in Iltasanomat about Jukka (in Finnish)
Back in Finland I quite enjoyed this little freelance profession of mine. It was good fun, I got to work with cool people who had cool jobs in media and they made me feel a little cool on the side. There was a lot of joking and laughter, so much actually that usually they also recorded me laughing in order to use it later on for something else. I also got to work directly with one of the TV stations in Finland, and yes, I can confirm that that was one of the coolest things eva. Plus hearing your voice on TV makes your skin ripple. Well, at least for the first two times.
When I found out that I was going to move to Italy, I panicked a little. I had worked so hard to realize this dream of mine, and now I had to let it go??!! No way padre. But not to fear, with a little help from my friends I bought a really good microphone and all the other necessary equipment, and 2 months later I recorded my first spot from my apartment in Italy.
Only that it's not so cool anymore. And here's why.
That's my work station these days. That's my closet, where I set up my mic, headphones, my mini-pc, and the voice-box-thingimagicky, and I cover it all up with the bed cover in order to create a nice little nuck without echo. I also put my ironing "mat" from Ikea behind the mic in order to guarantee a nice soft sound. (I never iron, so why I own an ironing mat is beyond me...)
Looks a bit dim does it? No laughter or joking. No cool technical stuff or studio manager who speaks to you via the headphones. No nothing, just me and my voice that sounds like a barn door.
I'm my own studio manager now. If I want to laugh I better come up with some damn good stuff, because hunching over the mic like a giraffe with a neck problem isn't exactly something that tickles your funny bone. I don't even have privacy anymore, since the cat often decides to hide inside the closet while I'm setting up, and then attacks me while I'm recording. I never edit the stuff that I send out, so I assume that at least the dude who ordered the spot from me has a good laugh listening to me struggling with my "domestic problems".
Don't get me wrong, I still love to do these spots. I love the fact that even if I'm living in another country I can still co-operate with my partners in Finland, and that they trust me even though I'm not physically present and listening to their every advice. I'm the one giving the advice now, to myself. The horror of not knowing exactly if you're sending them quality stuff or just plain crap is awful, but so far I've managed to do a good job.What I miss is the company. The people. The atmosphere. The "want a cup of coffee and a cookie before we start?" and "how's your cousin's hip problem?". The warmth. The friendship.
The laughter. That's what I miss the most.
Enough with the sadness.Cheer up little speaker, at least the cat's happy in the closet.
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