Aled Jones was born in 1970 and joined the choir at Bangor cathedral when he was nine years old. His rendition of Walking in the Air from the animated movie The Snowman in 1982 made him a household name. As a young boy with a soprano voice, Jones sold over six million albums before his voice changed at 16. He then attended the Royal Academy of Music and later starred in Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. He has since balanced singing with broadcasting. Jones recently released One Voice – Full Circle, a duet featuring his treble vocals recorded when he was a teenager.
When I was 15 years old, I performed a traditional Welsh folk song at the Royal Variety show in Covent Garden. During this time, a photo was taken of me singing the high note, which was a very thrilling experience. It was much more enjoyable than attending school. My mom would have trimmed my hair and I wore a bow tie from Burton’s in Bangor. I also wore pants from that same store, which were similar to Simon Cowell’s high-waisted slacks.
Due to my age, I was aware that the audience would applaud enthusiastically and rise to their feet before I even stepped on stage. There was never any apprehension or stress. Also, clutching onto that score felt like a security blanket. Once I had it in my possession, I felt empowered and in charge.
When I was a young boy, I had a natural talent for singing. I took it seriously and always made sure to learn my songs well, while also having a lot of fun. The only time I felt nervous was when I was 13 years old and had to sing “Memory” by Andrew Lloyd Webber at the Royal Variety Performance. When he introduced me as giving the “greatest performance” of the song, I was backstage feeling the pressure to do well. The director asked me not to use the sheet music because it would ruin his shot, and being inexperienced, I agreed. During the performance, there was a part between the first and second verse where I didn’t know what came next. Without the sheet music, I had to improvise on the spot. Forgetting the lyrics in front of the Queen felt like a terrifying dream. Webber came on stage afterwards and praised my performance, but Rory Bremner, whom I admired and followed around, joked that I had just sung “Memory” and proved that I had no memory.
I did not sing with the intention of becoming famous or receiving praise. I sang simply because it brought me joy. When I was nine years old, my aunt passed away and left me a piano. My desire to learn how to play the Beatles’ songs led a staff member at my elementary school to recommend that I take lessons at Bangor Cathedral. As I entered the cathedral for the first time, I was captivated by its empty space and enchanted by its mysterious scent – I imagined the centuries of people who had performed there. It wasn’t until later that I discovered it was actually a Calor gas heater.
During my first lesson, I sang and then the teacher asked me to step out of the room so he could speak to my mother. As I waited outside, I thought to myself, “I’m not good enough, he won’t want to teach me.” To my surprise, he told my mother, “This is the most amazing treble voice I’ve ever heard. You should consider sending him to Cambridge or Canterbury cathedral.” Later that day, while perched on the kitchen counter, I discussed my future with my parents. They responded, “We don’t want to send our only son away.” I reassured them, “I’m not going anywhere. I still have football to play.” Together, we came to the decision that the next best option would be for me to join Bangor cathedral choir.
A woman in the church, often the sole attendee on Thursdays, wrote to a record label proposing that I be recorded before my voice changed. This led to the creation of an album. Through fortunate circumstances, a prominent producer from London purchased it at a concert in St David’s Hall, Cardiff, and incorporated the music into a show that aired on BBC following Only Fools and Horses. The CD sold 275,000 copies, propelling me to the No. 2 spot on the pop charts, just behind Bruce Springsteen. This marked the beginning of a whirlwind four years for me.
I chose not to share my popularity, especially at school. However, it was not always easy. If I appeared on a big platform, such as Terry Wogan’s talk show, I would often face teasing and bullying the next day. This happened seven times. I held the record for being the guest with the most appearances on the show. During Christmas, kids would mock me by singing “Walking in the Air.” But for the most part, I managed to keep my fame under wraps. From Monday to Friday, I was just a regular boy, but on Friday nights, I would travel to London, appear on TV shows, and meet my idols like Roger Daltrey.
I did not miss out on my childhood thanks to my parents’ efforts. They never asked for money from me. When I performed at the Hollywood Bowl, I was more thrilled about visiting Disneyland afterwards. Even when I was offered a whole episode of Johnny Carson’s TV show dedicated to me, I declined because I wanted to go home and play football and spend time with my girlfriend. The only activity I was not allowed to do during my upbringing was swimming, as every time I did, I would catch a cold – a trend that still continues.
Shortly after this picture was captured, my vocal range changed. Unlike some males, my voice did not falter or fluctuate. While making an album, I realized that the high notes were strong but the middle ones were airy. One day, while driving with my executive producer, I expressed my displeasure and asked to not return to the studio. And that was the end of it.
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Instead of being worried about my career, I was simply disappointed that I wouldn’t be able to go to Happy Gathering, the nearby Chinese restaurant that was our tradition after releasing an album. After making calls with the record label, I had a difficult week where I did numerous interviews with people from all over the world discussing my voice breaking. One particular memory that stands out is a clip from an American news segment where they used footage of miners emerging from the pit, burdened by the weight of the day, as if my voice breaking was a monumental event in Welsh history.
To close the gap, I participated in many Christmas activities, such as reading scripts for BBC Radio 2. I understood that I could never escape my image as a child star who kickstarted my career, and I had no desire to do so. There was a challenging period in the 90s where I was not actively involved in anything. I refer to this time as “the This Morning years,” when I would spend my days lying on the couch watching Richard & Judy. However, I knew that the Snowman would resurface every Christmas, giving me the chance to perform and enjoy it once again. Then, out of nowhere in 1999, I began working in Welsh media. Since then, I have been grateful and amazed by every opportunity that has come my way.
Someone once told me that my voice wouldn’t reach its full potential until I was in my 40s. Now that I’m in my early 50s, it seems to be getting stronger and evolving constantly. Fortunately, it’s not getting worse, so hopefully I won’t experience a midlife crisis. However, I did recently purchase a battery-powered motorbike. It’s a stylish cafe racer that isn’t very speedy, but it’s also very safe. I’ve always been a choir boy at heart.
Source: theguardian.com
