THE MOST EXPRESSIVE AND INDIVIDUAL INSTRUMENT IS THE ONE WE CAN ALL PLAY — THE HUMAN VOICE. IN THE FIRST OF A TWO PART FEATURE, STEVE XERRI SPEAKS OUT ABOUT HOW TO BEST TREAT THIS MOST DELICATE APPARATUS.

EVEN THE MOST unremarkable voice is a miraculous asset that distinguishes its human owner from all other creatures (except, possibly, the whale). The voice dominates the field of pop music: for every solo instrumentalist who makes a successful career as a Name (Eddie van Halen, Cozy Powell, Jean-Michel Jarre), there are dozens who achieve their fame by singing. Even in a band, it is often the vocalist who stands out in the public's perception — if I mention The Cure, don't you immediately think of Robert Smith's wonderful bleats of emotion?

This is all rather obvious, and wouldn't be worth raising as an issue if it wasn't for one important fact. Too many bands just starting out tend to overdo this "singers are different" bit, leaving their hapless tonsil-merchant not so much in the limelight as in the lurch. Some of this may be the fault of those singers who cultivate the supposed mystique of singing when really it's just a lot of hard work. Again, there is a belief that most singers only want to get into as many photos, interviews and beds as possible. At the very least, it is often felt that singing is just something you do and that if you call yourself a vocalist you should be able to get on with it effortlessly, consistently, in all circumstances and without help from anybody.

Such a view is of course bilge, and it stems from a failure to understand that there are pitfalls as well as pleasures involved in having the nerve to warble in public. For example, some players think that singers have it easy because they haven't had to fork out loads of moolah for an instrument that needs lugging about in a heavy flightcase or treating to expensive repair jobs. But by the same token, singers have no pre-gig fiddling about with the hardware to relieve growing nervousness. And the average band takes 50% of a soundcheck to perfect the drum sound and a further 45% to argue over whose guitar is too loud — leaving about a minute for a hasty vocal check. Another potential source of grief for a vocalist is that, with so much attention focussed on you, your every mistake sticks out like a sore thumb, while a guitarist's occasional bum note goes relatively unnoticed.

A third difficulty is the painful physical damage you may do to your throat — especially if your band believes that louder equals better — from walloping out your set at great volume, maybe having to push the voice a bit too hard towards the end of the gig because those excitable chums of yours have gradually nudged up the output-settings of their amps.

If all this is beginning to make you want to sell your glitter-suit and hang up your microphone, hold on: there is a way to offset the problems and enhance the enjoyable side of being a singer. Paradoxically enough, it involves treating your voice — and having the other members of the band treat it also — as simply another sound-source. Think of it as an inbuilt instrument which has its own skills, to be learned and respected every bit as much as the complex fingerwork the rest of the players slave away over. Having taken that step, you are now ready to make sure it gets as much care and consideration as any other integrated component of your band's sound.

Before you can learn to play any instrument and keep it in good nick, you have to know something about the way it works and what particular features of your chosen model give it its distinctive character (like, why does a Les Paul sound different from a Strat?). Obviously enough, you exercise about as much choice over the basic quality of your voice as you do over the colour of your eyes: God just bungs one in on the assembly line, regardless of your future ambitions to appear on Top Of The Pops. But whatever model you've got, there are certain things you can do to train and strengthen it. First, it is useful to understand exactly what governs the sound you produce when you sing.

Your lungs drive a current of air through the hollow of your larynx or Adam's apple, across which are suspended two fibrous bands — the vocal cords. In normal breathing, these cords are relaxed to allow a silent air passage, but when you speak or sing, muscles tighten them, causing sound-producing vibrations in the air which are then modified by the cavities of the throat, nose and mouth. The volume of a note depends on how hard the air is forced through and pitch varies with the degree of tightness in the cords. In singing, the pitch is controlled and the difference between notes corresponds to the mathematically exact relationship between the rates of vibration that produce them. Female vocal cords tend to be lighter and thinner (though no less tough in substance) than male ones, hence the generally higher register of women singers. It is largely the individual variations in the cavities of the head which give each of us a vocal sound, as personal to us as the way we look.

The point is that you should accept the model of voice you have been blessed (or burdened) with. Pop has room for all kinds of voices in all kinds of styles — think of the brilliant contrast of soaring Jimmy Somerville and smokily deep Sarah Jane Morris on 'Don't Leave Me This Way'. Your voice is one instrument you can't trade in or take back, and whether you own a throat of gold or one of asbestos, you should do all you can to exploit its uniqueness. Just as a seasoned musician will come to treasure his or her instrument for its quirks — the way a drum-skin has worn in, the resonance a certain wood lends to a guitar-body — so you should look upon the "grain" or character of your voice as an asset. Many vocalists begin by trying to conform to a certain fashion, or ape a favourite performer (hands up all the would-be Andrew Eldritch clones out there!). Although it can be useful, even inspirational, to work out exactly how a good singer does it, there is little point in simply reproducing his or her style. Leave that for the impressionists, and don't bury your originality. No record company (and ultimately, no audience) really needs a copy of somebody who's already made their mark. Pop thrives on a great breadth of different personalities — allow yours to shine through.

Decide not to hide but to cultivate the unconventional aspects of your instrument: so what if it sounds cracked or gravelly or downright odd? Playing up the non-conformity of their voices has done no harm to Bonnie Tyler, Tom Waits, Roland Gift and countless others. On the other hand, don't despair if your "problem" is the opposite one — that of sounding ordinary. Take a leaf out of New Order's book. Their Bernard Sumner has capitalised on the less than robust quality of his voice and evolved a plaintive, haunting style which a big butch singerly voice (like Tom Jones's, say) could never convey.

For the sake of your voice as well as your listeners' ears, you should write songs which suit your ability as a singer, and if the gem you're trying to perform as a cover feels wrong for you, transpose its original key fearlessly or change its tempo 'til you're happy with every note. Although you can coax a more extended range out of your voice with practise, you should not expect it to sound at home with material right outside its natural compass: after all, you'd never attempt to play a funky bassline on a mandolin... would you? If nature has given you an Iggy Pop rumble, don't waste it by straining yourself in pursuit of Michael Jackson yelps. Setting your music comfortably within your range will allow you to perform with confidence, and that will convince your public that you mean business far more effectively than a would-be dazzling vocal performance you can't quite pull off.

Turning again to the way the voice-box makes sound from allowing breath through its stringy bits, it's clear that your vocal instrument has components like any other, and they need some looking after. You can't oil them or polish them, but you can take steps to ensure long and trouble-free service from them. Just as a drummer acquires control over his kit and avoids limb-pain and bum-ache by practising sitting properly and playing from the wrist, so a singer too, improves technique and avoids bodily damage by practise, for which there is absolutely no substitute.

Before you even begin to open your mouth, though, remember that as with any other anatomical tissue you can do your voice a nasty injury by sudden, violent or over-extended exertion. So don't rush into any vocalising, even in practise, if you're stiff with cold or if your throat is already sore from infection. Better a gig cancelled because of your flu than a voice ruined. And don't do a song "just once more" at the end of a rehearsal if your voice is already feeling serious fatigue. I'm not just talking here about your weekly rehearsal with the band as a whole; you will get maximum benefit from those sessions if you also spend a little time each day working on your own in the uninterrupted privacy of your room, learning to maximise breath-control and get the best possible from your resonating bits.

First concentrate on relaxing — air comes up more effectively from lungs filled slowly and deeply than from shallow gulps grabbed between phrases. Get into the habit of deep breathing before you sing a note; rather than hoisting your shoulders up and down in hasty gulps, try to breathe from the diaphragm, that band of tissue inside you that stops your lungs getting confused with your belly. To get the feel of how it should be, place a hand on your midriff and feel it being pressed out as you breathe in, keeping your upper chest as still as possible. This means that air is reaching the lower part of your lungs, producing a larger and more reliable supply for you to send through the larynx.

Of course, it's no use having a nice stable column of air available if you then try to squeeze it through a throat that's rigid with nerves — you'll get a lot of pain, all for a reedy little squeak. One great thing is that deep breathing is itself a good method for settling jitters, so it has a doubly beneficial effect. But you can do a lot more. To relieve muscular tightness, slowly roll your head round and round, allowing the jaw to hang down naturally when your head is back. Prepare to look daft! Let your face go floppy, then get your mouth working by pulling your lips (not using your fingers!) into as many positions as you can. Gently massage your face and neck — and do all these things, preferably somewhere quiet, for a few minutes before you sing. It's rather like a guitarist playing a few quick runs to loosen the hands up prior to performing — a warm-up exercise that's calming, too.

You will greatly enhance the overall sound of your singing if you build up the resonance of your voice — a habit which we are normally too lazy to bother with when we speak. Try humming, mouth closed, and feel the buzzing (you do use your fingers for this) in your lips, nose, temples, and even the back of your head as well as in the more obvious throat area. Practise making that buzz even stronger, chasing it down into your chest and up to the top of your skull: stay aware of the places it reaches when you come to sing, and your voice will seem bigger and clearer, because it's vibrating in more of the available body space.

Now for some singing. On a comfortable note, not too loud at first, sing "ee, ah, oo", trying to have some breath left at the end. Repeat a few times, gradually lengthening the held note. Then add consonants, not worrying that you sound silly when you sing "tee, ta, too, me, ma, moo" - the point is that you're fine-tuning your instrument, and it all takes time. How much time? Well, just a few minutes a day will quite quickly make a lot of difference to your general performance.

The last phase of practise involves pitch: a difficult thing to rehearse on your own, because you can't tell so easily whether you're in tune unless you are singing along with another sound source. Singing scales, the traditional music-teacher's standby, can be useful — but few people are prepared to stick at it for long because it can be very boring. You can overcome both these problems by singing while you strum a guitar — or, if that's beyond you, by joining in with a record or the radio. To make sure you are staying in tune, and that you aren't simply parroting the original voice, faults and all, tape yourself as you sing and then listen to the playback with as self-critical an ear as you can muster. Are you really following the tune correctly? Do you reach the end of a line gasping or with breath to spare?

You will soon notice your voice becoming stronger and more responsive, just as you would expect to find improvement from practising any kind of playing — and you can achieve it on your own. Singing lessons can be useful, provided you find a teacher who is prepared to help you find your own voice and style — that is, one who doesn't want to turn you into Luciano Pavarotti. Mercifully, such tutors do exist, but you need only think of going to one for help if your own singing habits cause unpleasantness for your throat (or your ears) and you can't right the problem by yourself.

And finally, one last useful tip for when you have done the preparation and are starting to play that nicely tuned-in instrument. Don't forget to visualise your playing. By this I mean that although as a singer you can't watch your fingers on a keyboard to help you stay accurate, you will find that if you think deep notes diaphragm-wards in your mind's eye and imagine the high notes beaming out through the top of your forehead, you will really be able to pitch them where they should be. Similarly, if instead of singing to your mates in the front row you look to the back of the auditorium and think of placing your voice there, it will actually carry further — amazing, but true!

In next month's PHAZE 1, I will be concentrating on ways in which you can add sophistication to your vocal sound. But first, you must find that sound as a basis on which to work. So spend this month deep-breathing, humming and la-lahing your way to vocal confidence.