In Montreal in the sixties, growing up in a Catholic family, we were always encouraged to use our talents in religious gatherings. Even my Aunt Pat, blissfully unaware that she was tone-deaf, would raise her voice loudly and proudly in song. I sang at mass, first in Latin as the organ wheezed, and later in folk masses, where the guitar was the instrument of choice.
Segarini: Don't Believe a Word I Say 