The husky voice in your favourite advertisement might not belong to a tall, blonde seductress. In voice-over land, the art is in the illusion. By Kate Browne

Cymone Rose sounds soft and girlish as she chats about her work. But mid conversation, the 30-year-old morphs into a chattering dolphin, a booming Islander, a Californian valley girl, a puffing blowfish, a surfer dude, a bratty teenager and back to herself. To anyone passing, it might sound as if there were five or six people and animals all squeezed onto the sofa with us. But that's the thing with voice-over artists - start talking to them and they switch personas every 20 seconds.

Rose is the voice of Vodaphone on hold and the "coming up" bit on Home And Away. She and her voice-over artist compadres tell us what to buy, how to vote and what show's on next. Deep-voiced males remind us what radio station we are listening to while excitable females squeal about the latest gossip in newsstand magazines. Syrupy Americans promise us a movie that is "an enchanting tale for the whole family", authoritative voices apologise for our trains being late. Pick up the phone and there they are again, those well-modulated tones, asking you to press 1 or assuring you that your call is important.

The people behind these voices are aged from six to 60, a motley crew of

actors, ex-actors, ex-radio announcers and even an ex-doctor (Paul Ricketts, a promotional voice on Foxtel). There are some 400 working voice artists in Sydney and Melbourne, spending their days in darkened sound booths, recording up to 100 new voices each day. No more than 80 people take the lion's share of the regular work but it's easy to understand why the job seems so appealing. The rates earned by those at the top of the tree are attractive, with certain jobs paying up to $500 an hour. But, as voice-over artist Jane U'Brien points out, it's an "up and down business. One week you might make $500 and the next $5000 but then other times you might do only one $130 job for the whole week."

And for these vocal maestros, what you hear is not necessarily what you get in person. This is one area of the entertainment industry that is free of the pressures of appearance, age and, sometimes, even gender.

Jane U'Brien stands in the sound booth behind the mike, channelling what she calls her "tall blonde". The husky, slightly suggestive voice conjures up money, privilege and the kind of woman who has just slipped into her Manolos and onto a private jet. It is a shock to see this voice coming out of the down-to-earth, diminutive U'Brien, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with short hair and glasses.

In this industry, vocals can be deceiving. "I've surprised a lot of people," laughs U'Brien, 39, who started her career as a radio copywriter in the late 80s before discovering she enjoyed voicing the work far more than writing it. "Lots of people who have spoken to me on the phone think I'm a tall blonde."

Many people don't look the way they sound, agrees big-voiced veteran of the industry Ian "Lofty" Fulton. With his gravelly, made-for-radio voice, Fulton turns more than a few heads when he arrives for jobs. Standing 137 centimetres tall, Fulton has been voicing TV and radio commercials since 1992, with current gigs including Sydney's Radio 2GB, Fox Sports and movie trailers. The 40-year-old says he often gets a laugh from clients' reactions. "For first-time clients, it can be a bit of a mind bend," says the former radio announcer. "They have chosen me from my demo tape and the kind of voice that I can provide. Then I walk into reception and say, 'Hi, I'm Lofty. I'm here to do a job.' Some of the reactions have been priceless."

The freedom to tinker with roles and ages without having to worry about your appearance can be a major advantage. Luke Downs, managing director of Australia's leading voice agency, RMK, says he has artists on his books who "must be pushing 70". Phil Baildon, who is one of three voices of Network Ten (he does promotions for drama and Big Brother), says some artists can play "young" well into old age. "My predecessor at Ten must have been at least 60 but if you heard him even now you would think he was 35."

Another plus is the anonymity of the job, especially, Baildon says, in an industry where so many people are considered public property.

"I have friends in TV who are well known and to go out with them, even for a beer, can be hard. They get bothered all the time."

Most voice artists say that they are rarely recognised from their voices. U'Brien, who voices TV commercials for Tiny Teddies and Australian Idol, says even her partner can't recognise her voice at times.

While U'Brien is popular for her chameleon-like ability in the sound booth, other artists rake in the dollars because their voices are so distinctive. The voice of actor Samuel Johnson (who stars in The Secret Life Of Us and does ads for Hungry Jacks and Holden Barina) has been easy to spot over the past two years, while enduring TV characters such as Mr Sheen and Louie the Fly have been voiced for more than 30 years by Kingswood Country actor Ross Higgins. In some cases, a voice has become so identified with a product that the voice-over work continues from the grave. Actor John Meillon, who provided Victoria Bitter's "Matter of fact, I've got it now", died in 1989 but sound engineers were able to use off-cuts from old recordings for new advertisements.

Arguably the most recognisable voice is that of Robbie McGregor, whose suggestive and mellifluous tones can be heard warning SBS viewers that the following program contains "adult themes". The McGregor style is in constant demand for gigs flogging everything from furniture to heavy-metal albums. "Robbie's delivery makes him sound like he's about to tell a rude joke any minute," says his agent, Luke Downs.

The signature voice of SBS since 1989, McGregor is also renowned for his work with comedians Roy and HG on radio station Triple J.

Tall and charming with bright-red hair, McGregor, who refuses to divulge his age, drives like a maniac, chatting in his velvet voice and cracking jokes between fielding work requests on his mobile phone on the way to his next job, a 30-second ad for a flamenco show.

"Something like the Roy and HG stuff and the State of Origin is very intense," says McGregor of the comedy simulcasts. "It works best if it's in one take and that can be incredibly draining. It's like you get to do a whole opera in this one piece. It's light and shade, colour and movement and can knock your voice around." That's why most voice-over artists warm up for 30 minutes before a gig. "I practise in the car on the way to every gig that I do. I'm 'theophilus thistle'-ing and 'she sells sea shells' all the bloody way there. Otherwise I just put on some heavy metal and scream along with it."

At the studio, McGregor is handed the script - the first time he's laid eyes on it. After a quick practice read, he's set to go. To the pulsing strains of Ravel's Bolero, McGregor springs to life, one hand clutched to his headphones. His smooth delivery is word perfect but the producer looks pensive, before saying, "That was good, mate, but can you make it one second faster?"

McGregor records the same words 18 times, making it "faster", "slower" or "more explosive" while never losing the enthusiasm of his first read. Today's job, he says afterwards, was an easy one.

Other artists have not been so lucky at the hands of over-zealous directors and advertising executives. "'Rainbow empathy' was a direction one artist was meant to understand," recalls Downs, while other artists cite being asked to make their voices sound "yellower" or more "violet".

"The weirdest one was when I had to put on a Swedish accent for a TV ad," says U'Brien. After a few reads and having her accent tweaked with helpful hints such as "You need to say 'L' without really saying 'L'", the director asked her to read it in a more "documentary" style. "It was like, what do you want? A female Swedish David Attenborough?"

"I had to play a little chocolate biscuit once," laughs Cymone Rose, who trained as an actor in Brisbane, then New York, in the early 90s. "Actually, it was an American chocolate biscuit and they were saying, 'Think Clueless, think Julia Roberts.' I just had to say, 'OK.'"

But this ability to adapt is just one of the qualities that can make or break an artist, say the industry experts. "Having a good voice is only part of the package," says Downs, whose agency takes on just three or four new artists a year but still receives "at least five phone calls and five emails a day" from wannabe voice-over stars. "The analogy we like to use for people who might think they can do this job without any experience is that it's like saying to a concert pianist, 'I've got a set of hands, too; give me a shot at this.'" Advises Melinda Poile, casting director of voice agency Blah Blah Blah, "Get behind a microphone in a soundproof studio and try to turn a creative director's script into something that sounds real and you'll realise why these guys are voice artists."

Eight iconic aussie voice-overs

You know their voices - now here are the names behind those old favourites.

"I'm bad and mean and mighty unclean." - Mortein (Louie The Fly), Ross Higgins

"Clean, wax and polish as you dust with Mr Sheen." - Mr Sheen, Ross Higgins

"This is Rob. He's a dentist." - Oral B, John Laws

"SBS advises viewers that the following program contains nudity..." - SBS announcement, Robbie McGregor

"If you drink and drive, you're a bloody idiot." - Transport Accident Commission, David Kirkaldie

"Saa-aale of the century." - Nine's Sale Of The Century, Pete Smith

"Matter of fact, I've got it now." - Victoria Bitter, John Meillon

"Raaaaa-aaaage!" - ABC TV's Rage, Deni Gordon