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Sport 32: Summer 2004
Alda
Alda
I think I have a very particular voice… and I had many teachers who tried to change it. To, to put it more… tried to put it more, more into the patterns, you know? And my voice is very out of, of the patterns, I think.
Even after repeated hearings, the voice remains a surprise. The first time, it is a revelation: astonishingly deep, unfurling like smoke-infused honey across the floor to curl about your ankles as directed and seductive as a black cat intending to be fed.
This chic smiling woman, in high-necked sequins or in a full-length evening dress curiously scalloped around the hem, in a marvellous brown mid-length leather coat, belted at the waist, or a rich heavy paua choker given to her by her parents-in-law and a halterneck revealing most of her breasts, is the keeper of the Voice: she smiles at you over the top of it, signalling amusement, or irony: something wry.
page 94… It took me such a long time to really find my voice.… It took me ages to, to realise that my voice is my instrument, and unique because it's mine.
Her lashes are so long and so thick that when the light throws her shadow against the wall, you can see them in silhouette.
In Wellington Alda has only been singing for four months, and she's already developing a cult following. You become aware of her arrival at Blondini's in particular when a discernible rustle passes through the crowd, punctuated by her name. It's the rustle Shortland Street regulars get, but this is a very different audience, and she's done it without half-hourly nationwide exposure five nights a week: it's quite something, the Alda buzz.
‘Apples,’ Alda tells a luscious young woman, who listens so intently it's almost painful to watch, who repeats ‘Apples?’ like Moses repeated the ten commandments. Yeah, honey: eat enough apples, and you'll have a voice like this one.
Or drink the Blondini martini—usually two, one before the performance, one after. Alda can be persuaded to three, but it's a special night. She is not and has never been a truly late-night girl, she was never a barfly: at home she performs mostly in theatres, which she prefers.
In Brazil she also fronts a TV show, a film showcase: ‘I think it will still be there for me when I get back,’ she says, in her heavy, charming accent.
And then she smiles.