Great light

I was having a conversation with a student recently about plateaus. This student was remembering a previous blog in which I had discussed the plateaus we experience in our vocal training where it feels like we can go for an extended time without making any progress. These are inevitable periods that everyone goes through—no one's trajectory is only forward. It's also worth noting that a plateau can actually be a form of progress, because we are solidifying our status on higher ground (at a higher skill level) than we used to be. 

This idea reminds me of an experience I had last summer when I was out on a hike. While trekking toward a peak in the Wasatch range, I looked across the valley and saw how the clouds were casting a shadow on a significant section of the opposite ridge (picture below). From my vantage point, I could see that most of the mountain was in sunlight. But I remember thinking that any hikers who happened to be in the middle of the shadowed section probably wouldn't be able to tell how much longer they would be in that darkness before they would be back in the sun. 

This time of year, it is a tradition for musical ensembles to program performances of Handel's Messiah, the great oratorio for symphony, chorus, and vocal soloists. One of the arias for bass soloist is assigned the text, "The people that walked in darkness." At the start of the piece, the vocal line meanders, winding around in chromatic eighth notes before landing on a low F2. It's as though the melody itself is searching for a way out of darkness only to be plunged into the depths. 

As the aria continues, however, the chromaticism starts to dissipate and the melody ascends to a sustained high D4 (the tonic of the key) on the phrase "have seen a great light." 

It feels a lot like a hiker working through the muddled darkness of a shadowy ridge only to emerge onto a sunlit peak. In the picture below, you can see that the entire last stretch of the hike toward the peak on the left is in the shadows. As most mountain hikers know, the last stretch before a peak is often the most difficult. It is usually the steepest part of the hike and can involve scrambling up loose rocks that have less-secure footing than the lower sections of the trail. Add darkness to the mix and all of these factors could make any hiker want to turn around and head back down the mountain, right when they are closer than ever to the peak. 

The end of the semester is also a peak, of sorts. Even if it doesn't necessarily feel like you are reaching a monumental finish, it does represent the end of a long, sometimes meandering hike. When we are amid the difficulties and darkness of a semester (or a degree program, or a career), it's tough to know how long we will have to endure before we reach the light. And when we are on drawn-out journeys, the longer we trudge, the more arduous it can become. But that could also mean that the peak, and the light, are just a few more steps away. 

Keep hiking. 

I'm grateful for the semester we have spent together. Once we finish, I hope you will all look back at how far we've come and take a bit of time to enjoy the view. 

Happy Holidays. 

-brian

 

Get out of the way

"Condition the voice, and then get out of its way." -Kate DeVore

I was recently going through some notes and came across the above quote by Chicago-based acting voice coach Kate DeVore. She is a regular faculty member at the U's Summer Vocology Institute, so I think it was something I wrote down during her lecture this past summer. 

I think the most obvious interpretation of this quote is that we should build our technique in the practice room so we don't have to think about our technique during performances. Once on stage, we should get out of the way and just focus on storytelling. 

A second interpretation is that, after we condition the voice, we should get out of our heads. Anxiety, insecurity, and self-consciousness are all obstacles to free vocal expression. Sometimes, we might need to get out of our own way and trust that our voices will follow. 

As a voice teacher, however, this quote hits a little differently. When working with singers, it's sometimes hard for me to know when I should step in and when I should just stay out of the way. "Condition the voice," as Kate says. That's my job, to help you all condition your voices so they are better equipped to do what you want them to do. But there is an unfortunate tendency in voice teaching to homogenize the singers we work with. If teachers have an '"ideal" sound in mind that they feel every student should aspire to, that might mean that everyone will start to display the same timbre, sing with the same style, and make similar interpretive choices. In other words, we can "condition the voice" so much that we condition singers' originality and uniqueness right out of them. 

I know I'm guilty of inserting my preferences and opinions at times in the voice studio when I should probably be staying out of the way and allowing students to have more agency in deciding what choices they would like to make with their voices. In previous generations of voice teaching, students were often only allowed to exercise creativity from within the bounds of pre-approved options that the teachers laid out. Students who insisted too vehemently on adhering to their own ideas were seen as defiant or as questioning the authority or expertise of the teacher. Thankfully, we're trending away from that. Even so, I still find myself defaulting back to that approach once in a while. 

As we get closer to the end-of-semester performances, I hope you will all honor your own ideas. Obviously, you should consider the perspectives of your teachers and practice lots of different sounds and interpretive options. But once you get to performance, you are the ones center stage. 

In these last few weeks, how can you work to honor your unique voices and choices in the songs you are presenting? 

Now go practice. 

What you want vs. What you need

If you were a high school theatre student in Utah, it's likely that you attended the Utah Theatre Association conference. This is an annual event designed to give high school theatre students and teachers the opportunity to see performances, attend lectures and workshops, and just geek out together about theatre. It's a huge gathering that attracts thousands of students from all across the state. Considering that they're all teenagers, and they're all theatre kids, there is always a lot of energy at the conference. And a lot of noise. And several students wearing age-inappropriate hats, like a sophomore rocking a fedora because he decided that's his "thing" this year. (You do you, dude.)

I go to the conference almost every year to present workshops, usually on musical theatre singing. I always leave room for Q&A and often end up sticking around after my sessions to answer additional questions, which I always find encouraging since it shows me just how much the students want to know about this subject. 

One year, an enthusiastic young student said to me, "I really, really want to be great at belting. What's the best way to get an amazing belt sound?" I told her, "Well, there are a number of exercises you can use to really target your belt voice." She nodded her head eagerly. "But," I continued, "you should also train your head voice, which will help build your full vocal instrument, which will also strengthen your belt singing." She seemed less enthusiastic to hear that second part. 

There is often a disconnect in life between what we want and want we need. It's no wonder Aretha Franklin separated the two when she sang, "What you want, baby, I got it. What you need, do you know I got it?" Even the Queen of Soul knew there was a difference. 

Sometimes we may want something, but when we find out what is needed to obtain it, we may reconsider and decide it's not worth it, after all. Case in point, in The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, the character Lord Henry Wotton says, “To get back my youth, I would do anything in the world, except take exercise, get up early, or be respectable.” In a previous blog turned article, I discussed the difference between "wishes and dreams" (i.e., things we'd like to accomplish but don't take any tangible steps to achieve) and "goals and plans" (i.e., things we are actively and systematically working to achieve). 

Famed operatic mezzo-soprano Jamie Barton, whom the New York Times dubbed "opera's nose-studded rock star," was not always motivated to achieve the high levels of performance that she has seen in her career. Her college voice professor, Dr. Brian Horne, said as much in an interview with Classical Singer. 

"[Jamie] herself would admit that I had to sit her down on a couple occasions to remind her that she would need to work harder if she wanted to have some chance of success,” he says. “More or less, I told her that I couldn't guarantee that she would succeed if she gave it everything she had, but I could guarantee that she wouldn't succeed if she didn't give everything she had."

At that point, she wanted to succeed, but she wasn't doing what she needed to find that success. Based on her 2023-2024 performance schedule (Houston, Valencia, Paris, Chicago, Munich), she has clearly righted the ship. 

What do you want from your singing? What do you think you need to do to get that? Lastly, and most importantly, are you willing to consistently and systematically do what you need to do to get what you want (not just when it's convenient or when it's easy)? 

Now go practice. 

Like you've never been...

A few years ago, I wrote a blog describing my qualms with the phrase "Sing like no one is listening." You've probably heard some variation of the quote, which is usually along the lines of “You've gotta dance like there's nobody watching, love like you'll never be hurt, sing like there's nobody listening, and live like it's heaven on earth.” 

I appreciate the sentiment. Probably all of us have been unkindly judged for our singing at some point in our lives. If the idea of singing like no one is listening really means sing as though no one is judging you, I can get on board with that. 

But, as someone who has worked hard to put together thought-out performances based on intentional expressive choices, why would I not want anyone to listen? What was all of that time and effort for? As I said in the blog, "sing like no one is listening" can seem to imply that what I have to say is not worth anyone hearing. If that's true then what's the point? 

Recently, I came across another take on this famous quote from author and voice pedagogue Cynthia Vaughn: 

Sing like you've never been shushed. That's worth repeating. 

Think of all the ways you've been silenced in your life. Consider all the times you have been made to feel that your voice was not worth hearing, your ideas not welcome in the room, your perspectives not valued. 

When people criticize our singing, they may feel like they're just being cute or just teasing in a light-hearted manner. Maybe they're just echoing some of the things people have said to them. But when we hear those comments, it usually doesn't feel light-hearted or flippant. It feels personal. It's as though they are criticizing us, not just our voices. 

Students often ask me what the best way is to overcome nerves when performing. There is no easy answer since people experience various degrees of performance anxiety for any number of reasons. However, I believe that at least some of our anxiety is due to the fact that we have had negative thoughts about others we have heard sing. Perhaps we are at least a little bit afraid that people will think the same things about us that we have thought about others. 

The cure? Extend the same grace to others that we would want extended to us. As an audience member, are you quick to criticize or quick to compliment? Are you drawn to someone's successes or their failures? Do you secretly hope that someone's performance is lesser so that you can feel greater about your own abilities? If so, it's no wonder you are anxious to perform. 

The good news is that we can train ourselves to see the positive just by intentionally choosing to do so. I would much rather see a performance that is sincere, committed, and enthusiastic—even if it is less than pitch perfect—than one that is made up of perfectly balanced and resonant tones but half-heartedly communicated. 

Of course, there is nothing wrong with noticing inefficiencies in someone else's performances or taking note of areas you feel can be improved. As artists in training, that's an important skill to develop. But cognitive research indicates that the more effective pedagogic path is to build upon someone's strengths with positive feedback than to point out someone's perceived flaws with no instruction toward improvement. 

So, how do you sing as though you've never been shushed? Don't be a person who shushes others. 

How has your singing been this week? Now that we're in the second half of the semester, what goals do you have for the rest of the term? 

Now go practice. 

Use it or lose it

One of the scholars who is frequently cited in articles that promote how everyone should sing is the late Professor Stephen Demorest of Northwestern University. He has conducted some of the most prominent research studies demonstrating how singing is a learnable skill and is not as dependent on "talent" as we are often led to believe. Importantly, his research also highlights how singing skills take practice to maintain (just like speaking a second language, doing a backflip, etc.) or we risk succumbing to the "use it or lose it" phenomenon. 

The pertinent research was published in the journal Music Perception, and is summarized in an article in the Northwestern News. In the study, investigators compared the singing accuracy of kindergarteners, sixth graders, and college students. They found there was significant improvement in students' skills from kindergarten to sixth grade, which—go figure—is when most students are getting some sort of consistent music instruction in school. From sixth grade to college, however, students regressed in their abilities and were only singing as accurately as the kindergarteners in the study. 

As the article describes, the years between sixth grade and the end of high school (when their singing abilities started to decline) are when most children experience voice changes due to puberty (it doesn't receive as much attention, but it's worth noting that children who experience an estrogen-dominant puberty, as opposed to a testosterone-dominant puberty, also experience significant voice changes during those years). I suspect the vocal instabilities of adolescence and the heightened self-consciousness that coincides with that time of life cause many students to stop singing around that time—or at least to stop singing in front of others. 

Of course, a lot of students that age simply choose to focus their energies in other areas, since those are also the years when they start filling their schedules with sports, AP classes, and other activities that place demands on their time. The arts, music, and singing often get left behind. As Demorest points out in the article, by eighth grade, only 34% of children in the United States participate in elective music instruction, and that number declines even more by the time students reach high school graduation.

I think we all understand that if someone trains as a figure skater from kindergarten through sixth grade, and then stops, that person will not be as good a skater by the time they get to college. Logically, this applies to singing, as well. 

Of course, the other noteworthy results that come out of Demorest's research is how it highlights the psychological baggage we bring to singing that we don't bring into other activities. As mentioned in the article, children who have been told that they can’t sing are less likely to engage with music throughout life. Many of them carry painful memories—like being called "tone deaf"—well into adulthood. 

As Demorest states, “Everyone should be able to have music as a part of their life. It’s OK to select out of it, but it should be by choice, rather than because you think you don’t have ‘talent.' And if at any point in life you decide to become more engaged, you can be...When people are unsuccessful [at singing] they take it very personally, but we think if you sing more, you’ll get better.”

One way Demorest suggests people can continue to use their voices regularly is to have low-stakes opportunities in music that don’t require the commitment of time that playing in a band or an orchestra does. “People need a place to sing and have fun without worrying about how good they are,” he said. 

I would argue that even those of us who have professional aspirations as vocalists need these sorts of low-stakes opportunities to sing. Focused practice is obviously crucial for building specific skills, but recreational singing, or just jamming out with friends, is also allowed to be part of your vocal exercise (actually, it's encouraged). 

How has your practice been this week? Do you need more low-stakes opportunities to sing with others? How can you add that to your life? 

Now go practice. 

Magic To Do

"We've got magic to do, just for you. We've got miracle plays to play. We've got parts to perform, hearts to warm, kings and things to take by storm, as we go along our way." 

—Leading Player, "Magic To Do," Pippin

Who doesn't love the magic of theatre? The world of the imagination, the suspension of disbelief, the communication of triumph and tragedy through words, music, lights, costumes, and sets. Anyone who has had a transformative experience through theatre will likely have a difficult time expressing the power of that experience through words. There are some words, however, that may be particularly inadequate or—in the opinion of at least one music professional—inaccurate. 

Nova Thomas is a singer and Professor of Voice at Rice University's Shephard School of Music, as well as Teaching-Artist at opera companies across the country (including the Utah Opera). In the foreword to the book we discussed last week (The Vocal Coach Approach: When Practice Makes Perfect by Susan Shiplett Ashbaker), Thomas talks about the potential problems with using the term "magic" to refer to musical performances. 

"Extraordinary performances are often described as 'magical.' Indeed, that is probably the most accurate description for those transporting experiences that defy the confines of language; but the nomenclature, however flattering, presents a dilemma for those who endeavor to become the delivery systems for making that kind of art. If 'magical' is the result, then one might assume that the process is mystical, mysterious, or (even less helpful) just the result of a huge talent, or some ever elusive 'it' factor. In truth, the 'magic' we all seek is the result of work that has been enormously methodical...The kind of 'magic' we all seek requires an egoless, humble, specific, and ordered process." (p.x)

I find a similar issue when performers are told that their performances seemed effortless. Just like the word "magic," such phrases seem to dismiss the years of work that performers spend honing their craft, often at great sacrifice (and expense!). As we know from the stages of motor learning, it often takes years of slogging through the early stages of learning, applying effort, enduring failed attempts, and taking the necessary slow steps toward progress before we reach the automatic stage of performance. Comments like those above almost imply that anyone is capable of successful, professional-level performances if they are naturally gifted enough or if they are somehow chosen by some mystical muse who will then use them as the empty vessel through whom they will express profound musical ideas. 

I would think these type of comments can be especially irksome for those who do not feel particularly naturally gifted or who did not have the advantage of early musical training. When someone who has built their abilities, seemingly from square one, is told that their performances are the result of anything other than a lifetime of dedication, it can feel as if all of that effort is devalued. 

Of course, we sometimes do give performances that feel uniquely inspired. A handful of times, I came away from a performance feeling as though everything aligned perfectly, as it never had before. Nevertheless, even in those moments I had to acknowledge that it was only through consistent work and dedication that I was even in a place where that mysterious inspiration could come in and add that last bit of spark. There is no "magic" that will suddenly come in and make a half-prepared performance come to life. 

Now, I'm not saying that we should berate audience members who care enough to offer compliments and praise after our performances. Everyone takes something different away from the arts, and I don't believe it's our job to tell people what they should be getting from a performance. (Naturally, education, talkbacks, and other efforts can potentially help people understand performances at a deeper level, but that doesn't mean audience members are wrong in the opinions they form about our performances.) These interactions do, however, provide opportunities for us to help audiences understand the time and effort that does go into the process of creating impactful art. 

Patron 1: "Oh, that performance was just magical!"

Performer 1: "Thank you! It took us a lot of hours of rehearsal to get to that point." 

Patron 2: "It just looks so effortless when you perform!"

Performer 2: "I'm so glad! That's certainly one of my goals when I'm in the practice room every day." 

Instead of following the Leading Player's mantra of, "We've got magic to do," we might borrow from Nova Thomas to come up with a lyric that reflects the truer reality for musical theatre singers: "We've got work to do—enormously methodical, egoless, humble, specific, and ordered work to do." That's probably not as catchy, and it definitely has too many syllables to fit into Stephen Schwartz's melody. But it may also help us get into the practice room and take our success into our own hands instead of waiting around for magic to improve our performances. 

How has your practice been going this week? How successful have you been in establishing a routine and sticking to it? 

Now go practice. 

SMART Practice Sessions

Welcome (back), everyone! We're off and running... 

The first blog of the school year often focuses on how to set meaningful goals (as described here and here). This summer, I was reading a new book called The Vocal Coach Approach: When Practice Makes Perfect by Susan Shiplett Ashbaker, and came across a chapter called "Setting and Achieving Daily Goals." I was excited to read it, thinking I might learn something new about setting goals that I could pass along to all of you. But, as I worked my way through the chapter, I realized that Ashbaker's points (which are excellent) weren't really revolutionary or all that new. We've known for a long time what effective strategies are for setting goals. We just have to take the time to review the principles, be thoughtful about setting meaningful goals, and then be diligent enough to follow through. 

Here is one of Ashbaker's suggestions: "Look at your calendar. Be specific about what time you will begin your practice each day of the week, and what time you plan to finish your practice. Too often, 'I'll practice later this afternoon,' ends poorly when, at 8:00 pm, you realize that you haven't yet practiced." Longtime members of the Manternach Teaching Experience should recognize this from the PRACTICE SCHEDULE section of our syllabus, which reads "Enter [your] practice times in your weekly calendar and treat them as you would a class or rehearsal. Do not allow them to become optional; make them part of your daily routine. Otherwise, it is too easy to put off your practice time or only do it when you feel like it. Art is creative, art is expressive, but practice is a discipline."

Ashbaker also reminds us: "If you write [your goals] down, you are more likely to hold yourself accountable...Keeping a practice journal is a good, tangible way to help keep you on track." This is also emphasized by author and professor Lynn Helding, who states that effective goals should be written down (not just kept in mind). Don't assume that you will remember what your goals are from day to day and week to week. Write them down so you can reference them at each practice session. 

Ashbaker also offers strategies for accountability in your practice routines. She writes, "If you have a close friend who is a singer, perhaps you can help hold each other accountable by sharing practice goals for the day as well as achievements." This strategy is backed up by a number of research studies. As I wrote earlier this year in an article for the Journal of Singing, "In clinical settings, patients who had a social support system were more likely to follow through with rehabilitation and health maintenance. Therefore, students may...make themselves accountable to someone (besides their teacher) who is invested in their progress. Perhaps it could be a friend or family member who has always encouraged their musical pursuits. Maybe other musicians with whom they collaborate could be recruited, given their mutual goal of making their shared performances as successful as possible. Maybe studiomates could pair off to be 'practice accountability buddies,' in order to check in with each other to make sure their partners are staying disciplined in their practice."

Lastly, Ashbaker provides a useful acronym to guide practice sessions: "Make your practice schedule SMART: Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Realistic, Timely." You may ask yourself some targeted questions to see if your practice is SMART. 

Specific: Am I just mindlessly going through a bunch of vocal exercises and "running over" my music or do I have a goal in mind of what I'm trying to accomplish? 

Measurable: How will I know when I have made an improvement? What is the thing that I'm not able to do that I'm trying to do? 

Attainable: Is this goal something that is in my short-term achievable range or is it more of a long-term goal (your teacher can help you determine this)? 

Realistic: Am I comparing my singing to people on studio-produced Broadway cast recordings? Are my goals appropriate based on my current skill level? 

Timely: Am I working consistently on specific skills? Do I work on implementing new instruction right away? 

For this first blog of the school year, I'd like for you all to share a couple of goals you have for the semester. Then share a tactic you will use to hold yourself accountable to the practice that will lead you to your goals. 

Let's have a great year!

Now go practice. 

Defining Success—Play Ball!

In 2003, my wife, Erika, and I took a road trip from our home in Indiana two and a half hours north to Lansing, Michigan for a baseball game. Although we had spent a lot of summer days together in ballparks, this trip was a little different. 

The Chicago Cubs, the team that has brought me joy and heartache (mostly heartache) for my entire life, had just drafted a hot prospect whom many felt would become the next superstar that would light up Major League Baseball. His name was Félix Pie (pronounced like the Spanish word for "foot" and not like the delicious dessert). He was an eighteen-year-old outfielder born to Haitian immigrants in the Dominican Republic. As one of the first stops on his professional baseball journey, he had been assigned to play for one of the Cubs minor league teams, the Lansing Lugnuts. This trip was our first chance to see Pie in action. 

We got to the stadium early so we could watch the team take batting practice. This pre-game time in the stadium offers a great chance to catch foul balls (which I did!), since it's less crowded and there are fewer small children to run over when chasing down these souvenirs (which, for some reason, is frowned upon). 

After batting practice, I noticed a crowd of fans gathering over by the Lugnuts' dugout, most of whom were wearing Cubs gear. Clearly, we were not the only ones who had driven some miles to see this kid play. Before long, Pie walked up to the crowd and started signing autographs. I looked at Erika and she rolled her eyes a bit and gave me a "shoo" gesture with her hand, as if to say, "Go ahead." 

I used to collect autographs from ballplayers as a kid when my family would go to minor league games, but it wasn't a hobby I had kept up with. This time, however, I was presented with a golden opportunity to have an interaction with the next Cubs superhero. So, why not? Plus, there were other adults in the autograph line so I didn't feel too awkward. 

Pie was quiet but polite as he signed his name for fans on scorecards, caps, and on my foul ball. When I got back to our seats, Erika smiled and said, "Well, when's the last time you waited in line to get an autograph from a teenager?" 

Long story short—and this is an unsurprising twist if you know anything about the Cubs—Pie did not live up to the hype. He gradually worked his way through the minors and made it to the big league club in 2007, but after struggling through an injury and lackluster performance on the field, he never become a mainstay in the starting lineup. A year and a half after his Cubs debut, he was traded to the Baltimore Orioles. 

The Cubs have a long history of making a big splash with highly-ranked draft picks destined to be the savior that would lead us to World Series titles, most of whom have ended up with short, unremarkable careers in the majors. Ask any Cub fan who is around my age or older about Ty Griffin, Cory Patterson, and Earl Cunningham and they'll recognize the pattern: The fan base gets excited, the player underproduces, the fans get let down, some other player gets drafted, and the fans (with short memories) get excited all over again, expecting this new phenom to be the one who will lead us to glory. It's one of the most endearing and infuriating things about Cubs fans. 

I hadn't thought about Félix Pie all that much since then until a few years ago when I decided to do a Google search and see what became of him. After a couple of seasons in Baltimore, he spent the next few years bouncing between the major and minor leagues on teams with the Cleveland Indians, Atlanta Braves, and Pittsburgh Pirates. He then went on to play several seasons internationally with the Korean Baseball Organization, the Chinese Professional Baseball League, and the Mexican Baseball League. He's currently back in the United States playing on a team in Kentucky as part of the Atlantic League of Professional Baseball. 

According to the Princeton Review, the average career length for a major league baseball player is 2.7 years. At present, Félix Pie is 38 years old and has spent the last 20 years playing professional baseball, which has taken him across the country and across the world. For every kid who grew up playing Little League and dreaming of major league stardom, we'd have been ecstatic if someone with a crystal ball had told us, "You'll never be a major league superstar, but you'll end up with a 20-year career getting paid to play the game you love." By nearly every measure, Pie has had a successful life in baseball. The only reason anyone would consider him a failure is because a handful of scouts saw him as a teenager and thought they could determine how his life would play out. It seems someone failed in this scenario, but I don't think it was Pie. 

I still have that autographed baseball. In fact, it lives in my studio, so most of you have probably seen it. Instead of keeping it as a memento of someone who took the sports world by storm, I keep it as a reminder of how someone can find success in their field even when that success doesn’t look like they thought it would when they were starting out. 

Seniors, most of you came to the U when you were the same age as that young outfielder I drove two and a half hours to see play. Some of you may have come in thinking you would set the musical theatre world on fire, while others may have just been glad to be accepted and given a chance. You probably also had a specific idea of what success after graduation would look like. Maybe that idea has changed over the last four years, or maybe you still have the same goals. Regardless, I hope you have learned that there is no one way to measure success. Sometimes not ending up where you thought (or hoped) you would be turns out to be the best thing that can happen. 

At this time of year, I feel a bit like I imagine Pie's minor league coaches felt as he progressed through the ranks. I've watched you build your abilities, develop your character, and learn tenacity, all of which are valuable attributes. Even so, there's no way I can predict what success will mean for each of you. 

Cubs fans are known for being "die-hard." We display ridiculous amounts of loyalty and are eternally optimistic about our team (another endearing and infuriating aspect of this fan base). As my role in your lives shifts from coach to fan, know that I will be enthusiastically cheering you on, remaining faithful through the slumps, and celebrating all of your victories along the way. 

Sko Utes. Batter up. 

Much love.

-brian

Begging, borrowing, and stealing

"Good artists copy. Great artists steal." 

Most of us have probably heard some version of this quote, often attributed to Pablo Picasso. But what does it really mean? Is it an endorsement of plagiarism? What's the difference between copying and stealing? And shouldn't we be coming up with our own ideas instead of poaching them from other artists? 

In the last blog, I shared Megan Hilty's thoughts about the importance of embracing our uniqueness. She believes this is the key to success as well as longevity in the musical theatre industry. Yet earlier in that same book (So You Want to Sing Musical Theatre), author Amanda Flynn also recognizes the usefulness of copying. She writes, "It is important to listen to professional singers to learn style, and mimicking can be a helpful way to explore sound." But she also warns that singers have to set realistic goals about their sound and not get lost in trying to copy someone else.  

From a technical standpoint, mimicking can be an effective tool. By exploring the sounds you hear in other singers and trying them out yourself, you can sometimes stumble upon different ways to negotiate your own voice or discover new sounds you didn't know you could make. So this kind of copying and stealing has real advantages. 

I saw a video this week featuring some of the best celebrity impressions performed on Saturday Night Live. In the video, they make a distinction between impersonation and parody. Jimmy Fallon's imitation of Jerry Seinfeld and Amy Pohler's imitation of Christopher Walken are both incredibly skillful impersonations. Will Ferrell's performances of Alex Trebek and Janet Reno, however, are better described as parody. Ferrell doesn't really try to sound exactly like the celebrities he portrays. Instead, he picks out certain mannerisms or characteristics that he then highlights or exaggerates in his performances. We can see hints of the celebrities coming through, but you wouldn't mistake him for the actual person he's parodying. 

I think there is a significant tendency for singers to do both impersonations and parodies of their favorite singers without even realizing it. More than once, I have complimented students on their near-exact replicas of performances by Jeremy Jordan or Sherie Rene Scott. Sometimes I hear them taking on certain vocal qualities of these singers and other times I recognize stylistic characteristics that have been swiped. Once again, if great artists steal, then all of these choices are available to us. But I think we need to be incredibly mindful of when and why we are imitating, impersonating, mimicking, copying, and/or stealing. 

Back to author Amanda Flynn, who expands on this idea. She says, "Singers often give themselves silent obligations. They may think that they must sound a certain way, or that they have to copy the riffs and style choices of the original artist. Sometimes they think this subconsciously without realizing it. Singers compare themselves to others and come up with ideas about what they are 'supposed' to sound like." (So You Want to Sing Musical Theatre, p. 217)

Singing with subconscious obligation of how we believe we are supposed to sound would seem to be the exact opposite of embracing our uniqueness. If these personalized expectations are what lead us to copy other singers, we are essentially trying to force someone else's characteristics and choices onto our own voices and performances. While it may be useful in select moments, wholesale imitation is really just a form of parody. 

By bringing these tendencies into the forefront, we can start to recognize when we are intentionally borrowing and when we are just defaulting to an impersonation of someone else. Imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery, but performing as anyone other than yourself is likely to fall flat. 

Now go practice. 

Teacher advice

I recently finished reading a new book called So You Want to Sing Musical Theatre: A Guide for Performers, which is the latest volume in the So You Want to Sing series sponsored by the National Association of Teachers of Singing (NATS). It's written by Amanda Flynn, who is an NYC-based voice teacher, trained at the U's Summer Vocology Institute, and just happens to be married to Rob Rokicki (who wrote the music and lyrics for The Lightning Thief). 

Among the many wonderful features in the book, Flynn includes four interviews with current Broadway professionals. I was intrigued to see that one of the questions she asked was, "What advice would you give a musical theatre voice teacher?" Each person had something different but valuable to say. 

Telly Leung (Aladdin, Allegiance, Godspell) says, "My advice to both [musical theatre performers and voice teachers]...is to understand the science behind singing. Go get scoped. Find a great laryngologist that's going to scope you and explain exactly what's happening when you make sound. ... I learned so much when I would visit the doctor. ... That's when I really started to get it. I finally understood what I was doing." (p. 371) 

Justin Guarini (American Idol, American Idiot, In Transit) said, "One of the greatest gifts you can give your students (besides vocal technique) is the ability to understand what the black dots on the page mean. Music theory is vital as a musical theatre performer because when you are asked to learn a song in one day, two days, or three (if you're really lucky), it's much different learning that music when you're solely reliant on someone else to put in the work to play it for you and teach it to you. ... Music theory, in a way, allows you to have that little bit of an advantage over 99.9 percent of people who don't know anything about it. Incorporating music theory into your training is valuable. You will do your students a world of good and, ultimately, you will raise the musical intelligence of our entire community over time." (p. 354)

Megan Hilty (NBC's Smash, Wicked, 9 to 5: The Musical) says, "I would encourage any voice teacher to celebrate the uniqueness of your students and not try to make them into something that they're not. ... The most successful people that I have witnessed or worked with are people that are very solid in their own skin and their uniqueness. They find the things that really make them different. There are so many programs that turn out a lot of people who work, but the people who have longevity are the ones that are unique and are very solid in that uniqueness. For any teacher, I would really encourage them to seek out that uniqueness and foster it. Help your students shine through because that will only make them more confident." (p. 348)

Shakina Nayfack (NBC's Connecting, Amazon's Transparent Musicale Finale, Hulu's Difficult People) says, "[T]here's probably nothing more valuable than taking the time to get to know your students. You should see them as full human beings before the training begins. The voice is such a psychologically and spiritually intimate thing. To help someone unleash the full capacity of their voice, you really must see and understand the full capacity of their being. Even in a lesson, if you can make those first few minutes about grounding person to person and taking in the whole of that person, then when you get down to work, you're just coming at it from a place of wholeness rather than a narrow cross-section of who they are." (p. 361)

There's a lot in there for me to reflect on. In fact (note to self, and warning to all of you), each of those paragraphs probably deserves a blog of its own to explore the ideas more thoroughly. 

In the meantime, what are your thoughts on their advice? What advice would you offer to musical theatre voice teachers (either your own teacher or voice teachers in general)? 

Now go practice. 

Continued questioning

Continuing the "questioning" theme from the last blog, it's noteworthy how many musical theatre songs involve characters asking questions: "Do You Love Me?" (Fiddler on the Roof), "Shall We Dance?" (The King and I), "Whatever Happened To My Part?" (Spamalot), and "Who Am I?" (Les Mis). I guess the opposite of an "I am" song is a "Who am I?" song. Perhaps the most ridiculous—and unanswerable—musical theatre question of all time is "Do I Love You Because You're Beautiful [or are you beautiful because I love you]?" (Cinderella). 

For a different take on the topic of questions, I'm reminded of one of the international students I met in our Summer Vocology Institute last summer. This student would frequently raise her hand in class, but instead of saying, "I have a question," she would always say, "I have a doubt." 

At first, it could seem like she was challenging the professor, essentially saying, "I'm doubting what you're telling me. Prove that what you're saying is true." But, by definition, her phrasing was probably correct. According to Oxford Languages, a question is "a sentence worded or expressed so as to elicit information." A doubt is "a feeling of uncertainty or a lack of conviction."  

This student is incredibly bright and was always prepared in class. She didn't really need to "elicit information" from the professors—she had already gotten that from the assigned readings and from the lectures. When she raised her hand, it was because she was uncertain or unconvinced. Something that was presented in class didn't jibe with her previous knowledge or experience. As discussed in the last blog, teachers can respond to such "doubts" in unhelpful ways ("I don't understand what you're not understanding." [*an actual quote from one of my former professors*]) or they can attempt to reframe the material ("Let me see if I can explain things in a different way.").  

One of my previous voice teachers once told me, "I want you to doubt everything that I'm telling you. My goal is to tell the truth, so I want you to question and verify that what I'm telling you is the truth. Don't be afraid to.” At the time, I wasn't quite sure what to make of that statement. I was used to a different process in voice lessons. Step one, I would be told what to do. Step two, I would do as I was told. Step three, repeat. And somewhere in that process, I was supposed to learn how to be an independent artist. 

My teacher wasn't asking me to be defiant in our lessons, and he certainly wasn't expressing a lack of confidence in his teaching (trust me, he did not, in any way, suffer from a lack of confidence). He just wanted me to maintain a curious mind and to know that, if my knowledge and experience clashed with his, it was OK to bring it up so we could work things out together. Not only did that give me the chance to learn more from him, it also allowed for the possibility that he might even learn something from me. That really turned the master-apprentice model on its head, in my mind. 

You may have noticed that a lot of my teaching involves asking a lot of questions of all of you. "How did that feel?" "What did you notice?" "Can you explain how this time was different from last time?" "What are your actionable verbs?" "What does this song say about YOU?" 

I ask some of these questions because I'm truly curious to know the answer. I'll admit, though, that sometimes I ask questions knowing that it won't matter at all to me what your answers are. I can say, "What did you notice about that sound?" And you can respond, "When I sing like that, my sound feels purple." OK. That response means nothing to me. But if it means something to you as you are building your self-perception, then it's a valuable observation. 

My questions, then, are intended to serve as prompts to encourage you to self-analyze. Your answers don't need to make sense to me—they only need to make sense to you. Only by building your own self-awareness can you start to get a feel for what makes your singing click and what doesn't. Then you start to learn which choices are most likely to get you where you're intending to go and which may lead you elsewhere. 

Question. Doubt. Verify. Don't be afraid to. 

Now go practice. 

All I ask of you

"Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt." 

I think I was in junior high when I first heard the quote above—often attributed to Abraham Lincoln, but actually of unknown origin. I remember thinking it was amusing, and in the same genre of insults as, "Never engage in a battle of wits with someone who is unarmed." 

Whenever I'm in a class, lecture, workshop, or webinar, I tend to be the kind of student who sits quietly and tries to take it all in, as opposed to the students who are quick to raise their hands with questions. I often prefer to listen, observe, and thoughtfully consider what is being presented before I feel ready to verbally engage. By taking this approach, I often find that my questions get answered as I continue paying attention to what is being presented. When I do ask a question, however, I am usually at least a little bit self-conscious about not wanting to be "thought a fool." 

A lot of people think this is a generational characteristic ("These kids today are so afraid to ask questions in class!"), but I disagree. I remember my high school geometry teacher (in the early 1990s) complaining that we students were always so scared to raise our hands in class. She would say, "What's the worst that can happen? I'm not going to bite your heads off!" But then, when someone was courageous enough to answer one of her questions, she would often bluntly shout, "Wrong!" "Sorry!" or "Nope!" She grew up in New York, so I don't think she ever really understood how her brash, East Coast delivery pierced our thin, Midwestern, adolescent skins. 

As protection, I suppose, my classmates and I would preface our questions with qualifiers: "This may be a dumb question, but..." "This question may not make any sense, but..." "I'm sorry if I missed something obvious, but..." "This is probably wrong, but..." Sound familiar? 

Acknowledging the epidemic of not wanting to ask questions so as not to be thought a fool (which has infected many of us), I heard in a teacher workshop recently that we should consider replacing the ubiquitous, "Do you have any questions?" with, "What questions do you have?" By asking, "Do you have any questions?" we seem to be assuming that most people understood the material, and those who didn't should out themselves by raising their hands. But by asking, "What questions do you have?" the default expectation is that most students will need to ask some questions in order to truly comprehend things. This approach also flips the class power dynamic on its head. Instead of a perception of, "I am the master teacher. Which one of you lowly students did not understand my brilliant lecture?" it admits, "I'm presenting this material in the best way that I can, but that doesn't mean it's going to click for everyone. Which parts can I try explaining in a different way?"

I know of at least one teacher who has started saying, "Before we go on, ask me two questions about what we just covered." Sometimes he is stubborn about it, saying, "Seriously, I need two questions, no matter how basic you think they are, before I can go any further." This gives freedom and permission to ask whatever questions students may have—and, odds are, if you have a question, someone else in the class probably has that same question. I prefer this approach to a teacher announcing, "There are no dumb questions!" which always makes me second-guess whether my question will be the one that will finally make the teacher say, "OK, that was a dumb question." 

No one wants to be thought a fool. But, to quote Jedi master Obi-Wan Kenobi, “Who’s the more foolish? The fool or the fool who follows him?” In other words, as explained on the website The Dork Side of the Force, it’s easy to fall to peer pressure. There is always the risk that asking a question will cause you to look foolish, at least to someone. It may be even more foolish, however, to sit in confused silence when clarification is potentially one question away. 

Just ask. 

Now go practice. 

How and how often to watch your videos

Last semester, we talked about how important self-evaluation can be, especially by watching yourself on video. Here, we'll talk more specifically about how to do that effectively. 

When watching your videos (whether clips of your practicing, self-tapes for auditions, or Dem Lab performances), you should ask the same questions you would consider whenever evaluating anyone else's singing performance. What works about this performance? What do I like? What is making this effective? What is not working? What is getting in the way of more authentic communication? What could be done differently to make it more successful? Any amateur observer can say "I like this," or "I don't like this." But, as theatre artists, we should be curious as to the why. 

When evaluating your practice clips, I'd recommend watching the videos soon (if not immediately) after you record them. That way you can see and hear what you are doing while you still have a tactile memory of how you created the sounds. If you liked what you saw on the video, try the same thing a few more times to solidify what you did. You can even use this tactic to record yourself singing a phrase of music two or three times in a row but in different ways. Then you can watch to see which version you prefer and, once again, recreate that sound while it's still fresh in your mental and physical memory. If you watch these videos for the first time even a day later, you won't have the same visceral memory and it will be more difficult to recreate those sounds in the same way. 

For performances, like Dem Lab videos, I'd recommend the opposite and instead allow more time to elapse before watching the videos (days, if not weeks). That way, you won't have such strong memory of the feelings and sensations you were experiencing in the moment. This will allow you to evaluate the video more as an outside observer. When you aren't watching with the same physical memory from having just sung, you're better able to give yourself an overview of your performance instead of being more focused on a single element of your singing, like with the practice videos. 

Notice that I'm using the words "evaluate" or"criticize" when it comes to watching yourself. And I absolutely didn't use the words "tear down" or "obsess over" either. You can observe and evaluate by asking the questions above with a true sense of curiosity in order to identify what you are doing well and to strategize about how to improve upon the less effective elements. As I've said previously, feel free to tell your inner critic to shut the hell up!

Remember, the flip side of being your own worst critic is that you can also be our own best evaluator. No one will be able to watch your own performances with as much insight as you. You know what you were thinking at the time. You know what it feels like inside to make those sounds. You have the best idea of how you might recreate or tweak those sounds. The rest of us can guess or make assumptions, but you're the only one who knows. Use that information to your advantage. 

Now go practice. 

Nothing but time

Time stops when suddenly you see her

Time stops and what you thought you knew changes

And life beyond this moment is better, bigger... 

    -"Time Stops" from Tuck Everlasting 

I've always found it fascinating how differently we can perceive time. When I was a kid, sitting through an hour of church seemed to take forever, but one hour of watching cartoons was over in no time. As an adult, I've noticed that Saturday and Sunday seem to move faster than any other days of the week, for some reason. 

One of the most common phrases I hear from seniors in their first voice lesson of the school year is, "I can't believe I'm a senior already!" Despite taking classes for three years, it always comes as a bit of a surprise looking back and realizing how quickly that time has passed. But many of those same students have also expressed that time feels like it's crawling by when they're in the thick of a semester with long days of classes and rehearsals. 

I sometimes hear ads on the radio for a company called 3 Day Kitchen & Bath. Their pledge to customers is that they can do an entire renovation of a kitchen or bathroom in three days or less—a job that can typically take weeks. I'm no contractor, but that seems really fast. I wonder if those workers feel like time is moving more quickly as their deadlines approach than it does when they're at the start of a project. 

The beginning of the semester presents a good opportunity to reflect on how we use our time. In a previous blog, we talked about how time can be viewed as a commodity, evidenced by the phrase "spending time." Regardless of whether we invest our time or waste our time, we all experience the same number of hours in the day. 

I decided to do a bit of math when it comes to our time together. Each of you receive 12 voice lessons per semester at 45 minutes each, adding up to 540 minutes of lesson time per semester. This means there are 1,080 minutes of lessons in each two-semester school year and 4,320 minutes over the eight semesters of a four-year degree. Divide that by 60 minutes per hour and it adds up to exactly 72 hours, or the equivalent of three days. All of our weekly lessons in all the semesters of an entire degree, when all is said and done, only amount to three days of time. 

How are we spending that time? Three days is apparently enough time to completely demolish, renovate, and rebuild an entire kitchen. Is it enough time to build the vocal skills and artistry you want for yourself? Are we both doing all we can to maximize our time together? 

As we get going in the new semester, let's consider how we're using our lesson time. If we make the most of our time together, you will be better able to make the most of your practice time when we're apart. Review this blog from 2019 about establishing effective goals. Then let's decide how we can best prioritize our three days of time to get you where you want to be. 

Now go practice.