A former studio producer has shared a little-known chapter from Shania Twain’s early working life — a period in 1987 when she made ends meet by singing commercial jingles for toothpaste, home appliances, and whatever local companies needed a catchy tune. According to the producer, the work wasn’t glamorous, but Twain approached each jingle with the same seriousness she later brought to her major studio sessions.
The recording studio was a modest downtown space with thin carpets, mismatched chairs, and a control booth that always smelled faintly of coffee. Producers came and went constantly, each working on small-budget projects for local businesses: detergent ads, kitchen appliance spots, supermarket promotions. Twain was one of the few singers they relied on regularly, not because the pay was good, but because she showed up early, knew her lines, and could deliver a finished recording in a single take.
“She’d walk in with this calm, confident energy,” the producer said. “These weren’t songs anyone would brag about, but she treated them with absolute professionalism.”
The jingles varied wildly. One week, Twain was asked to sing a cheerful tune praising the “dazzling whiteness” of a toothpaste brand. The next week, she recorded a soft, soothing melody for a dishwasher commercial that focused on how “quietly it cleaned.” Sometimes the copy was clunky, filled with awkward product descriptions, and Twain had to make the lyrics sound musical despite their stiffness.
“She had a talent for making the word ‘sparkling’ sound like it belonged in a love song,” the producer joked.
One session in particular stood out. A home appliance store wanted an upbeat jingle for a sale on microwaves and blenders — two items that didn’t lend themselves naturally to melody. Twain read the script, laughed, and said, “Alright, let’s make it sound like they matter.” She stepped into the vocal booth and improvised slight melodic lifts to make the lines sound less like a list of discounts and more like something people might hum after hearing the commercial.
According to the producer, she finished the entire recording in less than twenty minutes. The client, listening through the phone line, reportedly said, “That sounds better than it has any right to.”
There were long days when she recorded multiple jingles back-to-back, adjusting her tone for each: bright and animated for kids’ toothbrush ads, smooth and comforting for household items, energetic for fast-talking sale spots. Between takes, she drank tea, scribbled notes on the lyrics, and never once complained about the simplicity of the work.
What impressed the crew most was her ability to add genuine feeling to even the most mundane lines. She didn’t rush. She didn’t treat the sessions as filler. Whether singing about kitchen appliances or personal care products, she found a melody that worked.
“She understood that someone, somewhere, was relying on her voice,” the producer said. “And she respected that.”
Some of the jingles never aired widely. Others played on local radio for only a few weeks before disappearing. But among the studio staff, the sessions left an impression — a reminder of a young artist willing to do whatever was necessary while holding onto her craft.
“Those jingles weren’t steppingstones,” the producer said. “They were survival. And she handled them with grace.”