Trauma and the Voice

I recently read (and am now re-reading) a book called Trauma and the Voice: A Guide for Singers, Teachers, and Other Practitioners by Emily Jaworksi Koriath. One statistic it highlights is that people are more likely to have experienced abuse or neglect than they are to be left-handed. Therefore, most of us are carrying around some degree of trauma. 

Koriath outlines the recent understanding that places traumatic experiences into two broad categories. The first is shock trauma, where we experience events that overwhelm our system's capacity to respond to threat in real time, such as the speed and danger of a car accident, violent attack, or a sudden fall. The second category is developmental trauma, which refers to the long-term effects and psychological issues that result from abuse and/or inadequate care during critical periods of development. 

She also highlights how some writers have begun to differentiate between what they call "Big T Trauma" (life-altering events) and "little t trauma" (instances of cruelty, silencing, bullying, or shaming that leave their imprints on us). Neuroscientist and researcher Dr. Stephen Porges refers to trauma as "a chronic disruption of connectedness." Author and activist Staci Haines calls trauma "an experience, series of experiences, and/or impacts from social conditions that break or betray our inherent need for safety, belonging, and dignity." 

As you can see, there are many forms and degrees of trauma. Koriath presents her own working definition of trauma, paraphrased from Resmaa Menakem, as something that occurs in the body when the nervous system encounters more than it can process in real time. That “more,” she says, could be light, noise, violence, shame, or any number of other things. The in-the-moment response to this overwhelm is generally to shut down or “numb out.” As a self-protective measure, the mind fights to forget trauma. But, Koriath points out, the body remembers. 

Koriath also cites psychologist Peter Levine who indicates that trauma is not in an event itself, but in the nervous system’s response to the event. Each of us has a different threshold for what events are tolerable and which may result in trauma in the system. As Koriath emphasizes, “Even identical twins can live through the exact same circumstance, and one will experience the event as traumatic and the other may not.” 

It is not, therefore, up to outside observers to decide if someone has been “legitimately traumatized,” since we all process events differently. As Koriath states, “If there is stuck energy in the nervous system, it’s real trauma to that person.” Significantly for singers, if this emotional energy is stored in the body, it can inhibit our best singing and storytelling, which comes from free and unrestrained bodies. 

As a voice teacher, it is way beyond my expertise and scope of practice to try to identify trauma, point it out to my students, or attempt to help them work through it. Instead, as Koriath states, “Our responsibility is to be aware of the prevalence of trauma, and to adopt practices that contribute to nervous system care.” 

Luckily, she gives some specifics. For instance, when singers are in performance studies (like a degree program in musical theatre), they are constantly moving in and out of states of “fight, flight, and freeze.” Because bodies react differently to the feelings of overwhelm that come from perceived threats, our individual systems find ways to keep us safe that Koriath calls “innately brilliant and unique.” What we experience in those moments of stage fright or performance anxiety is the natural response of a healthy and adaptive nervous system. You are not wrong, bad, or "not cut out for this business" if you experience any of these normal, healthy anxieties. Koriath believes we should be better about normalizing the body’s response to the heightened state of performance. Once singers learn to recognize this process as not only healthy but necessary, they can choose to cooperate with it for more freedom onstage. 

How has your practice been this week? How can you stay focused in these last weeks before spring break? 

Now go practice.

Sondheim did the work for you.

I wrote a blog back in 2016 about when it's OK to deviate from the score or change the notes of a piece of music. I think it was inspired by hearing someone in the MTP say, only somewhat jokingly, "Opt up or opt out!" 

Unsurprisingly, I don't agree with that philosophy. That being said, although I am generally a "stick to the score" kind of guy, I do think there are times when it's appropriate to sing something that isn't on the page, which I outline in that previous blog. (Read it here if you're curious!) 

My teacher at Indiana University, Dr. Robert Harrison, often reminded his students that the text, pitches, and rhythms in a piece of music represent the innermost thoughts of a composer and poet (or lyricist). Our first duty as performers, he would say, is to accurately reflect those thoughts. If we feel license to change those notes, it's almost like we're saying we know this piece of music, and the thoughts that inspired it, better than the person who thought those thoughts and turned them into a song (Oh the thinks you can think!). To this line of thinking, Dr. Harrison would sometimes say, "Go write your own damn song! Stop recomposing this one!"

One instance when Dr. Harrison and I both agree it may be warranted to change the notes and rhythms of a song is if it is with the primary intention of enhancing the communication of the text. A great example is text that is set to four quarter notes with one syllable per note. If we were to speak a phrase in such a strict rhythm, it would probably sound monotonous. As singers, it's likely that we would make the emphasized syllables in that text a bit louder and the de-emphasized syllables a bit softer. We may also dot the rhythms, giving the emphasized syllables a bit more rhythmic duration and the de-emphasized ones a shorter duration. In this way, we're helping the audience understand the text by putting them into more of a speech-like rhythm. 

This is the opposite of the "Opt up or opt out" philosophy (singing a higher note than what is written), whose primary intention seems to be to show off something that the voice can do rather than enhancing the communication of the text. 

In my mind, there are certain composers whose music needs very few adjustments, primary among them Stephen Sondheim and Jason Robert Brown. Unsurprisingly, both of them served as composer AND lyricist in most of the music they have written.  When that's the case, I pay particularly close attention to the way they merge text and musical phrases, assuming that every detail was chosen intentionally. 

I still believe this even though there are some incredibly famous singers who have incredibly well-known recordings of the songs of these incredibly well-recognized composers where they (incredibly) take a lot of liberties with the incredibly well-written notes and rhythms. (Case in point: You folks doing Into the Woods right now, have you compared your part the way you learned it to the original Broadway cast recording?)

How did they get away with such shenanigans? Well, I wasn't there, so I don't know. But, in some ways, trying to reinvent this music makes your job harder as the performer. As David Eggers said in Dem Lab recently, "Sondheim did the work for you." If we just focus on presenting his music the way he has written it, more often than not, the message will probably come across. 

How has your singing been? How have you been negotiating your practicing and vocal progress amidst your show schedule? (I think my entire studio is rehearsing a show right now—or just finished one, or is about to start one.)

Now go practice.