Meryl Marfil is no stranger to performances.
In fact, she was all of six years old the first time she performed before an audience, belting a Whitney Houston classic.
Now, several years later, her vocal register has since settled to somewhere between “an alto and a soprano”, making it ideal for songs that require a croon. Think Sitti, or Nina, or yes, even Norah Jones. It’s a kind of vocal quality required of lounge singers in smoky jazz bars, one that people usually associate with molls draped over piano tops, of elegant slim cigarettes and cigarette holders, of little red dresses and tuxedoes and cocktails with little umbrellas.
Meryl also evokes that feel. She is both vamp and ingénue, all silky long hair, and a figure that seemed stereotypically built for lingerie models. And legs that just won’t quit.
Small wonder she seems to magnet “proposals” (she recounts these at first with uncontrolled fits and giggles, then reveals all with candor when assured that details wouldn’t be spilled at all).
But she refuses to turn her back on the industry because of her sheer love for singing.
Meryl can still remember the time when she had to turn down an offer to sing in a noontime TV show, which could have been a big break for her.
“It could have been my big break… but for some reason, I didn’t audition. I’m still haunted by that decision,” she tells DNX.
But no matter.
She has not given up her love for singing. Whether it is a private party for a wealthy businessman, or politician, or a singing-hosting gig for a very public event – say, a fiesta – Meryl cannot seem to stay away from singing.
And she sings anything contemporary. Jazz. Bossa. But mainly pop. The song she chose for Soundbox Sessions was “Make it with you”. A sweet hopeful song of a romance just jump-starting.
She starts singing.
Her voice is like honey: sweet, but not cloying. It doesn’t jump at you the way an eardrum-shattering birit does.
And it hits just the right notes.
Singing, for Meryl, is something that she sees doing for a long time. As she sings the final languorous notes of the song, she flirts at the camera before finishing the final note.
Meryl has come a long way from the shy six-year-old kid singing Whitney Houston.
Performer. Singer. Artist. Vamp.
There’s no telling where her star will soar.
