When she was 16, Pub Choir's Astrid Jorgensen wanted to be a nun. So how did she end up in pubs, night after night, teaching people to sing?
For years, Astrid felt like she didn't belong to the world of music. But she found her way in, on her terms. Astrid was never going to be an elite Opera singer, but in rediscovering the joy of singing for the sake of it, she invited the world to sing along too.
Astrid has fused her unique talents together to create Pub Choir — the largest choir in the world. She teaches everyday punters to sing a three-part harmony, where the audience becomes the performers.
Yumi Stynes sits down with Astrid for a candid conversation about the messiness of life, how she found her voice and began singing to her own tune.
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This episode contains references to Pub Choir, Bulimia, Backstreet Boys, Cher, Sophie Ellis Bextor, Africa, Cranberries, Zombie, Dolores O’Riordan, Toto, Average at Best, music teacher, spiritual quest, religion, abusive teacher, music, audiation, sensory, senses, conducting, choir, crowd, stage.
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Credits
Astrid
There was like this thunderous pressure in my bowels and it's like one hour and 58 minutes to go. And I thought I could hold.
Yumi
Astrid Jorgensen is holed up in a little glass house in the corner of her garden. Astrid is hiding from her cleaner, who she's embarrassed to even have to employ because of the state of her house. Every fortnight, Astrid puts on what she calls her one woman off Broadway show, where she rolls out of bed and pretends to go to work in her garden shed home office while the cleaner does their thing.
Astrid
I've still got sleep encrusted in my eyes. I've got rancid morning breath. I've just put on my pants like I've not gone to the toilet. I've not had a sip of water.
Yumi
Normally, because her work means late nights, Astrid goes through the performance of staring sleepily at a blank screen for two hours while her brain is still offline before the cleaner leaves and she can go back to bed. But on this particular morning, there's a problem.
Astrid
I could not hold it. And all I'll say at this point is that I searched for a vessel inside the glass house and all I could find was a small, fun size, empty packet of chips. And it was not fun.
Yumi
You might think Astrid is doing a bit of oversharing here, but she's telling this story to pull back the curtain on her successful image. She is, in her own words, average at best, which is also the name of her book.
Astrid
Because I want people to understand that there is a duality to all of us, because on that same day, it was also announced to the country that I was awarded an OAM. Are you kidding? So I you know, there are two versions of me and they're both hot shit. But they both exist.
Yumi
So who is this OAM winning, fun sized chip packet holding woman? Astrid Jorgensen founded Pub Choir, where she coaches huge crowds with no singing experience to bang out a song with a three part harmony all within a couple of hours. So think of it like this. It's a rock show where you buy tickets and there's a bar and there's merch. But the people making the racket is the audience. Astrid is in the business of bringing people joy. She's always loved music, but for a time, there wasn't much of it in her life, and she had to find her way to do the thing she was born to do. I'm Yumi Stynes, ladies, we need to talk about singing your own tune with Astrid Jorgensen.
Astrid
As far as I'm aware, lots of people have noises in their head, but it's often like your own thoughts or something.
Yumi
But Astrid's brain doesn't work like that. She thinks in music.
Astrid
I'm hearing things that are not actually happening outside. They are my thoughts, but they are just music. I cannot think in words. I don't know the sound of my own voice in my head. Wow.
Yumi
Which is crazy. So if you needed to get some milk from the shops, what is there a thought in your head about how to make that happen?
Astrid
I mean, I mean, like I do function. Someone said to me, can you even read? I'm like, yeah, I can read. It's just that. Wow. I mean, this is not complimentary to me, but like I have a dog and I see myself in her, where like my dog thinks to herself, I want food. Give me that. But she doesn't say those words in her head. She has that thought. And I feel like I'm the same way. Like if if I could externalize what my thought sounds like, it's like, uh, depending how stressed I am or whatever. But swirling around is this notion of like, I need milk. I need milk.
Yumi
Astrid was born in New Zealand, but her family moved to Brisbane when she was seven. She spent lots of time with her four older brothers fighting, yapping and trying to get a word in. Her house was filled with music. Her brothers played instruments and young Astrid tinkled away at the piano. And right from the get go, she had an ease with music that her brothers didn't share. She found she could sit in front of a piano and just play a song from hearing it. When she picked up the violin, Astrid was naturally good at it. Even though the music was oozing out of Astrid, one cruel violin teacher almost ruined it all.
Astrid
I mean, she would literally berate me. You know, she would just stand over me. She would often point down at me because I'm so small. And she would just be like, you're an idiot. You're so stupid. You are the worst violin student I've ever had. And it just felt like I just decided that I was the problem. It was easier for me, the path of least resistance, to agree. I was just like, OK, I guess I am terrible. You know, I am an idiot. And so it was, you know, once every week, I think it's going to settle in eventually somewhere in your soul. So
Yumi
in high school, Astrid gave up music altogether.
Astrid
I didn't want to take music as a subject. I didn't join any of the groups. I wasn't in the choir. I just thought, oh, I just guess I'm not good at it. Everyone must be better at it. I just I couldn't find my place. Like music is the only thing going on in my head. It's the most fundamental part of who I am. And so to take that away, I just was aimless.
Yumi
When school finished and everyone else was going to schoolies, Astrid sidestepped the beer bongs and blue light disco vibes to go and visit an aunt in Zambia. Astrid was looking for a purpose.
Astrid
I went away, had my spiritual journey trying to become a nun.
Yumi
Yep, you heard right. Teenage Astrid was thinking about joining the convent.
Astrid
Didn't become a nun, by the way, FYI. But I came back looking really different.
Yumi
Astrid contracted malaria on her trip and lost a bunch of weight that she wasn't actually trying to lose.
Astrid
For better or worse, we judge each other in this society by the package of our meat shell, our shape, the way that we look, the way that we present. And I didn't fully appreciate how much that was happening until my package changed. And people commented. Pretty much everyone said, you look nice now. You look beautiful now. Like now being the important word. And I'm like, oh, my God, I didn't realise how disgusting I was to everyone. No one mentioned it. I just thought I didn't really exist in the minds of others. And then suddenly now you're beautiful and it felt different. And I didn't want to lose that. I mean, what a what a thing to happen to a 16 year old. Suddenly you're being complimented and receiving praise just for walking into a room.
Yumi
This way that people reacted to Astrid's new body created a core belief about herself.
Astrid
Less of me was more appealing to people. And that really settled in my psyche. And I thought to myself, like, the more there is of you, the less anyone wants. So it became really consuming, all consuming for me to make sure that my shape stayed lesser. There needed to be less of me in the world for people to like me walking into the room.
Yumi
In her search for acceptance, Astrid developed bulimia.
Astrid
It's the only coping mechanism that I had. And that began this cycle of really deeply disordered eating that took a long time to extract myself from and to find my hunger again and to trust my body and to exist in my shape.
Yumi
When she was in Zambia, Astrid didn't fall in love with Jesus. No, but she did hook back up with an old love, music. It was the way people at church, they would sing out of passion rather than performance that was incredible to witness. Back in Australia, Astrid started an arts degree at uni where she met a really insightful music lecturer who could see Astrid's natural musical abilities.
Astrid
Right from the first lecture, he, you know, sings things or plays things. And it's your job to figure out what it was. So like you might write down what you heard. And I was like, oh, yeah, and popped it down just straight away. And everyone else is like, there's like people crying in the corner. And there's like, Nat, the siren's going off and people are freaking out. And I'm like, what are you guys stressed about? Because he was sort of demonstrating what we will learn. And I was like, yeah, I've already got that. What's next? And it was sort of like, huh, I think you might be really good, child. Wow. And I'm like, oh, really? It's exciting to find out that you're OK and that you've got something you can contribute.
Yumi
Astrid was finding her confidence with music again, but it took time. Like an assortment of somewhat silly hats, she tried on a few careers, including but not limited to being a dental receptionist, barista, cleaner, food tester, medical drug trial participant and sales rep for a betting chain where she had the lowest sales average in the country before she became a high school music teacher.
Astrid
I was given the task of taking a compulsory whole school choir. And that meant that every high school student was forced to sing. Which is crazy because, you know, you've met teenagers. Wow. Like you can't force them to do much.
Yumi
In a previous school, Astrid had been trying and failing to transmit her love of music to apathetic teens. But this school was different.
Astrid
They weren't asking for any outcome, really. Like they wanted the children to feel nice and connected, but they weren't going to give anyone a mark. There was no concert at the end of the year. There was no nothing, no metric. We were not measuring anything except how it felt to sing together. And that opened my mind because up until then, I had been taking the choirs, taking the school lessons and things like that, but always assigning a mark at the end, always building up towards some kind of judgment. But this was, doesn't matter. Let's just sing and see how it feels. And I was like, this is the missing element in my life. Finally, everything swelled together and made sense. We should make music because it feels good and it makes us feel connected to each other. That is a great reason to do something.
Yumi
Singing for singing's sake was a hit with the kids, and it sparked something in Astrid as well. She got to work on making the most accessible version of a choir for adults that she could think of. Songs you know, enough people to drown out your own voice and beer. In 2017, Pub Choir was born.
Astrid
I always try and pick a song that I feel like enough people will know that it's not scary.
Yumi
So, for example, here are some of my faves. Do you believe in life after love from Cher? Or be running up that road? You know the idea, be running up that hill from Kate Bush.
Astrid
Like you feel welcome because you're like, oh, I've heard this song. I know this. But I genuinely will change it completely.
Yumi
Astrid will rearrange the harmonies, add oohs and ahhs and separates the crowd into three sections to layer her new version of the song. There are no rehearsals for Pub Choir. It's just Astrid teaching the audience her arrangement and the crowd become the stars at the end of the night and perform for her.
Astrid
You're going to sing. No one knows what notes I'm going to teach. Everyone's in the same boat. You have to come along to the show and listen and learn and think and hold hands and figure it out. Do you actually have to hold hands? I do suggest it at the show. I'm like, if you are underperforming and overwhelmed, someone near you is not and find them and ask to hold their hand. Oh, I love that. Somebody near you knows what's going on. If it's not you, find them.
Yumi
Astrid has realised that her instrument is her body. It's her hands gesturing to the crowd to sing high and low. And it's her face, bright eyed, beaming, eyebrows, expressing, willing them to go on. A
Astrid
conductor is the only musician who doesn't make noise, which I love because I actually low key hate noise, which is crazy because I have, I think, maybe the noisiest job in the country.
Yumi
Chewing, walking, slurping, sniffing. She's super sensitive to sound. But as the leader, she's in control of it.
Astrid
It's perfect for me because I've got so much music in my head and I just have to try and give that over to somebody else to sing. And then I will help them shape it and keep it alive. And I don't know, conducting is it is the most natural expression of music for me. It's the best way I can think of to get all of this music swelling in my head out somehow. I'll put it in my hands. I'll put it in my face. I will try and show the audience what I want them to do and shape it with my hands. It feels kind of witchy, if I'm being honest. Totally.
Yumi
It's like really witchy. It's very witchy. Do you think a lot of people come to your shows with fear?
Astrid
Absolutely. I think so many people have singing shame. I think you'd be hard pressed to find anyone who's like, I'm just a flawless singer at all times and I'm the best. No, I mean, all of us have had weird vocal moments because our voices are reflections of us. And so we can't be at peak performance at all times. And I think when you sing out of tune, it feels so personal because it is. You are the maker of the sound. Like when you play the piano, you press the keys, you can miss and you sort of look down and you think, oh, I'll press that one next time. But with singing, there's nothing to see. There's nothing to touch. You have to figure it out. And when you miss, you did that. And so I think people really take it to heart. If they sing out of tune, they're like, I am out of tune as a person. But it's like, it's not that deep. Yeah. So I think lots of people walk through the door of the show with that heavy lifetime of singing shame. And I'm like, it's time to change the narrative. Your voice might suck, but that's allowed. It's not against the law. And you are still welcome in this space. Share your note and someone else will share theirs with you. We'll figure it out. I think that's a really freeing thing for a lot of people.
Yumi
Astrid spent years feeling like she was the worst at music in those tortured violin lessons. And now she gets to be part of the joy. She wants to bring her audiences closer to music in some ways to right the wrongs of that awful teacher.
Astrid
I really deeply empathise with people who say, I don't feel good enough to sing. I don't feel good enough to make music. And I'm like, I feel that I know where you're coming from. But it's not true. Everyone's good enough. Doesn't mean that you're great, but I think everyone's good enough. And that's it's almost like I'm saying it to myself as a kid. Just like you're good enough.
Yumi
Let's try. You're healing your inner child.
Astrid
That's it. That's what, shout out to Jane, my psychologist.
Yumi
Once the crowd has shared their singing self-consciousness, Astrid oversees the creation of euphoria via a group sing along.
Astrid
You can never be a choir alone. You have to do it with other people necessarily. So it feels really, I don't know, primal being in this big room of people all helping each other, all reaching towards this one destination together. It feels really electric.
Yumi
But the shows don't always go to plan. Sometimes the crowd gets too rowdy and she feels like she's on the back foot. So Astrid turns to her mantra.
Astrid
If something is hard, the only way is through. You cannot skirt around the issue. Sometimes the show doesn't go great in my mind. I'll step off its interval and I think, oh, my God, it's so hard out there, it's scary. And then I'll say or someone will remind me the only way is through. You've got to step back out there. I do feel like you cannot acquire knowledge without going through. And so, you know, I would have done the show 450 times. I feel like each time is very scary and I step onto the stage. I try and go through. And if I come out the other side, which I always do, we've all come out the other side of every difficult day we've ever had. You kind of pop it in your backpack of evidence, being like, it is still scary, but look how many times I have walked through.
Yumi
Astrid's gotten through hard shows and come out the other side. There have been lots of times when pub choir has shown how cathartic music can be. For instance, in January 2018, pub choir transcended into something that was almost holy.
Astrid
It was one of those strange, serendipitous timing moments in life. I was already working on an arrangement of a song called Zombie by the Cranberries. And then I saw the news that Dolores Ariadne had died and I had been thinking about her song and I had been planning it for the next show.
Yumi
Astrid deeply questioned whether singing a Cranberries song was appropriate.
Astrid
Like is this weird grief porn like me hopping in there? Look, let's sing this song. But I had been thinking about it. And along with that, I was a funeral singer for many years growing up. That's how I paid my way through uni, singing at funerals. And so I have personally seen so many times how music unlocks the unspeakable for people in grief, right? Like music is like an immunity, emotional shield. You can cry at a funeral if the music is going. And I just thought to myself, what better way to pay tribute to someone than through their music? Like it's unspeakable sometimes that the breadth and depth of grief, even if we don't know the person like this, this is iconic music for most of our lives, you know, so I thought I'll go ahead with it.
Yumi
Astrid announced the song and people came in droves to pay tribute to an artist they loved. On a cloudy Brisbane night, the venue was full of people cradling their broken hearts and showing reverence to each other's vulnerability together.
Astrid
Everyone just understood this song is the vehicle for what we're trying to communicate with each other. And I've never seen I'm even getting goosebumps now, just even remembering like I've never seen the audience. They were holding hands that night. People were genuinely putting cheek to cheek, sharing a note, trying to make sure that they were giving the song justice. They were doing the right thing by these notes. People were pouring out their humanity in this shared way. We didn't give a eulogy. We didn't give a speech. But this was the tribute.
Yumi
There's a picture taken that night of Astrid conducting the final note in the song. The crowd have their hands up with their phone lights on. They're singing a three part harmony. There are goosebumps all along Astrid's arm.
Astrid
I knew in that moment that we were doing something really special, something unique. This was a new expression of something. And that's the first time anything I'd done went viral in the sense of the online world. Like it just sparked this feeling across the world. Ever since then, really, people have been lining up in the rain to come to the show and sing together to have this moment of human connection where we all agree on something. Without even needing to tell each other that we're going to do that. And what a strange, bittersweet moment in my life that I was ready for.
Yumi
Damn right. You spent your whole life getting ready. Exactly. That was amazing. Astrid, thank you so much. Oh, my pleasure. I'm so glad you came in, even though you're so tired and you're so busy.
Astrid
I also forgot that the cameras that I was giving, I was serving face. Oh, you were giving, yeah, and hands. Thank you. You're so welcome.
Yumi
This podcast was produced on the lands of the Gundungurra, Gadigal and Muwinina peoples. Ladies, we need to talk is mixed by Ann-Marie de Bettencor. This episode was produced by Elsa Silberstein with additional production from Sarah Mashman. Supervising producer is Tamar Cranswick and our executive producer is Alex Lollback. This series was created by Claudine Ryan.