Often, in class and lessons, I talk about the differences between forced resonance and free resonance. To put it simply, free resonance is the sound that passes through our vocal tracts, which is what gives us each our unique vocal qualities. Forced resonance relates to the sensations we feel inside our bodies when we sing. Some singers notice vibrations in their cheekbones, on the tops of their heads, or in their chests. Some barely feel vibrations at all when they sing. These vibrations may vary in strength or location based on how loudly or softly or how high or low we’re singing.
Of course, what you feel may be completely different from what someone else feels. Therefore, it is never wrong to feel what you feel. Actually, it can be beneficial to stop and acknowledge what you are feeling. No one has the right to tell you what you should be feeling just because it’s something they feel. And no one can tell you that you aren’t feeling something just because they aren’t feeling it. Go ahead and feel what you feel.
Trauma is a topic that has been getting more and more attention in both society and in singing training. In the reading I’ve done, I have learned that pretty much all of us have experienced—and are carrying with us—some sort of trauma, whether that’s “Big T Trauma” (like car accidents or abuse) or “little t trauma” (like bullying, shaming, or harsh criticism). Trauma often manifests itself as stuck feelings. It seems that voicing our feelings may help get them unstuck. Of course, addressing trauma is way beyond the scope of practice for a voice teacher, and those looking to do such work should seek the services of licensed mental health professionals. The singing we do in voice lessons and in class is not therapy. That being said, singing can certainly be therapeutic at times. Rather than holding your feelings in, consider giving them a voice.
During difficult times, there is a tendency for people to offer unhelpful advice, such as “You just need to toughen up!” or “Suck it up and move on.” Comments like this seem to be commanding us to be immediately resilient. What I’ve learned, however, is that resilience is best developed after safety has been established. We follow this process in singing training all the time. First we’ll work on a song in voice lessons. Then we’ll perform it in a studio class or a vocal workshop. Then we’ll sing it in vocal juries. Often at that point, we’ll feel secure taking the song into an audition or more public performance. So criticizing “safe spaces” is misguided. We all need safety in order to be brave. When we have practiced being brave by doing difficult things in safe situations, we are better able to be brave in less-safe or higher-stakes situations. In difficult times, we should turn to the communities where we feel safe so we can continue practicing resilience and being brave. We also have to continue providing safe spaces for others.
As anyone who has gotten “stage fright” or experienced nervousness before a performance knows, we have a system in our bodies that ramps us up and one that calms us down. The sympathetic nervous system (SNS) ramps us up, getting us ready for “fight, flight, freeze, or fawn.” The parasympathetic nervous system (PNS) calms us down. One fascinating fact is that the SNS and PNS usually don't fully activate at the same time. Therefore, we have to turn off the system that is ramping us up before we can turn on the system that will calm us down. As it relates to singing, some things that might ramp you up include catastrophizing in your mind all the things that might go wrong in your performance or imagining all the criticisms that may be going through the minds of your audience members. Outside of singing, some things that ramp you up might include watching the news, scrolling through social media, or being around people who dwell on the negative.
Of course, people experience anxiety (including performance anxiety) to varying degrees, which may require different approaches (including medical interventions or therapy). But if you are feeling anxious, try turning off (or turning away from) the things that may be ramping you up.
Then turn to some of the strategies that are known to help calm you down. In singing, we often do extended breathing exercises to focus our intentions, to prepare the body for more robust use of the respiratory system (as is often needed in singing), and, yes, to calm us down from the stress of the outside world. Breathe. Deeply.
A strategy that may help us turn on the PNS is to vocalize. I think we’ve all experienced a time when singing a song helped us work through overwhelming emotions. Ironically, singing a sad song when we’re sad often seems to make us less sad. I happened upon a research study that seemed to point to the same thing:
Sefcik et al. (2020) performed a two-case observational study involving nursing home residents with advanced dementia to examine the impact of persistent vocalizations (PVs) on heart rate. PVs are repetitive vocal sounds that are a common behavioral symptom of dementia. Investigators found that subjects had lower heart rates on days when they did not exhibit PVs. On days when subjects did exhibit PVs, there was a drop in heart rate from before PVs to during PVs and a further drop in heart rate post-PVs. In other words, on days when the subjects were in a more relaxed state, there was no need to vocalize, since they were already relaxed. But on days when their heart rates were more elevated, vocalizing seemed to help them calm down. Maybe this is part of the emotional release we experience when we sing.
So, keep singing.
Part II: An argument for getting back to what we do (as you are ready and able)
During troubled times, it can be easy to think that dedicating ourselves to the performing arts is frivolous. Do we really need more actors, artists, dancers, and musicians? Would we have more to contribute if we were studying medicine, social work, or even political science? Although the world does need sincere, dedicated people in these fields (yes, dear God, even in politics), I believe that the skills you are developing in the performing arts are the exact skills needed (and somewhat absent) in society. For instance…
Empathy: I once heard the advice, “You can’t judge a character you’re playing.” We sometimes have to portray characters on stage who make questionable decisions—perhaps even decisions we can’t imagine ever making ourselves. Our job, however, is to empathize with these characters. We have to do the work of understanding why they make the choices they do. We may never agree with them, but our portrayals of these characters will be more sincere if we can see things from their perspectives.
Artists bring empathy to the world.
Authentic communication: You’ve probably heard the phrase, “All acting is reacting.” In order to react with authenticity, we first have to hear and absorb what our scene partners are saying. We have to consider their words, process them, and thoughtfully respond. If we have pre-planned how we will deliver our next lines, we are no longer reacting and our “acting” may come off as wooden rather than as a spontaneous response. Even when we have rehearsed and rehearsed in order to find the most effective choices for a given scene, we still have to pay attention to the subtle nuances our fellow collaborators bring to their performances and respond accordingly.
Artists bring authentic communication to the world.
Willingness to be vulnerable: When we perform, we give the best that we have on any given day knowing that it may not be as good as yesterday or as good as it might be tomorrow. In the glory of live performance, there is always the possibility for mistakes that could open us up to criticism. It requires vulnerability to get up there and perform anyway. As author and researcher Brené Brown reminds us, there is no growth without vulnerability. When we put up the shields to keep ourselves safe, there is nothing at risk. Only when we are invested enough to risk failure can we reach our greatest potential.
Artists bring a willingness to be vulnerable to the world.
Seeing beauty in all its forms: Traditional assessments of what is deemed to be beautiful tends to be pretty narrow. Even in performance, spectacle is often valued more than substance. Admittedly, spectacle can be exciting. And it is easily digestible since it can be taken at face value—what you see is what you get. When communicating deeper emotions, however, such as telling stories that are not particularly pleasant, the right sound for the job may not be all that beautiful. Asking audiences to look beyond spectacle challenges them to be more discerning and reveals levels of beauty that may otherwise go unnoticed.
Artists bring beauty, in all its forms, to the world.
Recognizing strength in all its forms: There seems to be a prevalent prioritization of the appearance of strength rather than valuing actual strength. Posturing, bullying, and punching down are not acts of strength. Empathy, vulnerability, and resilience require actual strength. Resistance, standing for what you believe in, and pursuing your passions even (especially) when others don’t value what you’re doing (“What will you ever do with a performing arts degree?”) require more strength than the bullies will likely ever understand.
Artists bring real strength to the world.
I think many of us were first attracted to the performing arts because that’s where we received positive attention. We performed, people complimented us on our performance, and that made us feel good and want to keep performing. There was an element of “Hey, look at me!” to it. But, for the best artists I know, that approach necessarily shifted. Instead of a vehicle for self-aggrandizement, they view performance as a tremendous act of service. In my own life, the most powerful performances I’ve ever experienced have left me with overwhelming feelings of humility. Instead of thinking, “Wow, look what I just did!” I’m always left thinking, “I can’t believe I got to be part of that.” Knowing that not every performance instills those feelings, it is particularly gratifying when it does happen.
Sometimes we hear the words “arts and entertainment” used together, but I don’t think they’re synonymous. Entertainment is lovely. I enjoy it and regularly consume it in a variety of media. It makes me feel good and, in the words of Billy Joel, allows me “to forget about life for a while.” But, when the entertainment is over, I go back to my life, which is the same as I left it.
Art, however, has the potential to transform. Art can change our perspectives. After an artistic experience, I may go back to the same problems in my life, but I am not the same. Therefore, the perspective I bring to my problems is not the same, either.
We are surrounded by entertainment. I think we need more opportunities to be transformed.
So, in response to troubled times, I hope you’ll take the time you need to process, to feel, and to start to heal. I hope you breathe deeply, spend some time with your safe community, and sing.
And then, I hope you’ll get back to your art. We need your voice.
With love.
-brian
“This will be our reply to violence: to make music more intensely, more beautifully, more devotedly than ever before.” —Leonard Bernstein
Citations
The language of forced resonance and free resonance comes from Scott McCoy’s “Singing and Voice Science” chapter in the So You Want to Sing book series by Rowman & Littlefield and NATS.
The language on trauma and resilience comes from Trauma and the Voice: A guide for Singers, Teachers, and Other Practitioners edited by Emily Jaworski Koriath and Koriath’s quotes in “The Singer’s Library: Trauma and the Voice,” Classical Singer, May 2024, by Brian Manternach.
The information on SNS and PNS come from The Musician’s Mind: Teaching, Learning, and Performance in the Age of Brain Science by Lynn Helding (p.217).
The language on vulnerability comes from Dare to Lead by Brené Brown.
Research study on persistent vocalizations: Justine S. Sefcik, Mary Ersek, Joseph R. Libonati, Sasha C. Hartnett, Nancy A. Hodgson, and Pamela Z. Cacchione, “Heart rate of nursing home residents with advanced dementia and persistent vocalizations,” Health and technology 10 (2020): 827-831.
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