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.