Correlating Careers

There was some buzz in the opera world recently. Andrew Potter, a 43-year-old bass, announced that he is leaving the performance industry. In an article for OperaWire, Potter described that, despite having performed on significant national stages and despite his voice being “at its peak,” it is simply too difficult to make a living in this business. “The math has never worked,” he says. The costs are too high (“Inflation has tripled the cost of everything a singer must buy—flights, coachings, lessons, health insurance, housing in the cities where opera lives.”) and the pay is too low (“I sang at the Metropolitan Opera and came home with nothing.”). 

It's no surprise that performance careers are difficult to build and maintain. And it's no surprise that the work can be sporadic, often with gaps between gigs. But it was surprising for a lot of people in the industry to learn that, even when the gigs are plentiful, it's still hard to make a living.

One way to offset the financial shortfalls is with a correlating career. A phrase coined by "career coach for musicians" Dana Lynne Varga, a correlating career is not a side hustle, a fallback, or a plan B. Instead, it's “a career that runs alongside your singing career, which is ideally both lucrative and personally fulfilling.” Theatre artists are familiar with the idea of having multiple streams of income. Especially right out of college, a lot of actors look for "survival jobs" by waiting tables, nannying, or working as a bartender. But a correlating career is something more than that. It is an actual secondary career, rather than just a temporary job. It is work that you enjoy in a field you're invested in that provides financial stability and career fulfillment.

In an upcoming article I wrote for the Journal of Singing, I discuss several examples of people in the arts who have correlating careers. Opera singer Matthew Swensen has a clothing business. Dramatic soprano Lise Lindstrom worked for years as a production assistant for an investment bank alongside singing major roles on stage. D. Brian Lee performs and runs a voice studio while working a full-time job in information technology.

All of these people have greater financial security today because of their correlating careers. They also have a way to put their time and talents to use that is different from their work in the arts. In most cases, they admit that they actually come to their art with greater focus and energy because they have had time to engage in other activities instead of being engaged in their creative field 100% of the time.

Most of us have heard the familiar advice/warning about pursuing careers in the performing arts: “If you can see yourself doing anything else, do that.” Varga has her own take: “If you can see yourself doing anything else, do that too.”

What career path(s) would you pursue if you weren't a theatre major? Is there a way for you to work toward a career in that area at the same time you're working toward a career in theatre? Not only can it help pay the bills, but it might even help you bring greater energy, focus, and passion to the theatre.

How has your practice been going this week?

Now go practice.

Continuing Education

In the last blog, I talked about how the prevalence of voice-related information online has made it difficult to know which "influencers" are reliable and which may be intentionally deceptive just to get more followers. Clicks and views don't necessarily mean that what is being posted is worthwhile. I also suggested looking for "peer-reviewed" sources, which essentially means that the information was vetted by other professionals before it was given the green light to be brought to a wider audience. 

I was fortunate to have participated in a major peer-reviewed conference over the last weekend right here in our backyard. The Pan American Vocology Association (PAVA) holds an annual symposium, which in recent years has been hosted in Houston, Mexico City, Seattle, Toronto, and Minneapolis, among other cities. But this year, the board of directors voted to hold the event in Salt Lake City. The symposium brings together voice professionals from the performing arts and the medical field to present interdisciplinary research, workshops, and panel discussions. 

The "American" part of PAVA meant that the symposium drew people from Alabama, Arkansas, California, Connecticut, Colorado, Delaware, Florida, Hawaii, Idaho, Illinois, Iowa, Kentucky, Maryland, Massachusetts, Michigan, Nebraska, Nevada, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Oklahoma, Ohio, Oregon, South Carolina, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Virginia, Washington, Washington, DC, Wisconsin, and various parts of Canada. But the "Pan" part (a prefix meaning "all," "whole," or "universal") meant that there were also people in attendance from Australia, Germany, India, Italy, Norway, Poland, and Sweden—right here in little ol' SLC! 

As a hybrid conference (with both in-person and virtual components), there were also online attendees from many of the places listed above in addition to Arizona, Georgia, Kansas, Kentucky, Minnesota, New Hampshire, Louisiana, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania, as well as Costa Rica, Iran, England, Mexico, and Spain. 

So, for those keeping track, that makes 39 states (plus Washington, D.C.) and 14 different countries. Not a bad turnout. 

In order to present at this symposium, you have to decide which category to submit for: Research Presentation, Pedagogy Talk, Panel Discussion, Workshop, Micro-Workshop, Research Poster, or Pedagogy Poster. Then you have to submit an application (abstract) that has specific parameters for how you should describe your work. Those abstracts then go to a committee of professionals in the field with varied areas of expertise who decide whether to accept your proposal, reject your proposal, or conditionally accept your proposal pending certain changes or adjustments. This doesn't absolutely rule out any questionable ideas getting through (there are charlatans in every field), but it significantly increases the likelihood that what gets presented will be of quality since it has gone through multiple checks before receiving the thumbs up. 

Now, compare that to your average TikToker. All they have to do to share their content is post it. And if it's flashy enough, or cleverly presented, it can reach a pretty wide audience pretty quickly. That doesn't mean what is being shared won't be substantive or useful—there is lots of information that is technically unvetted that is still of quality. But, once again, good media literacy should cause us to be a bit skeptical if someone online is making wide-sweeping claims without having gone through any real process of quality assurance. 

That being said, check out these post-PAVA Symposium hot takes here and here. You might see some familiar faces. 

Now that we're heading into the second half of the semester, check in again on the goals you set back in August. Are you on track? Have you been consistent in your practicing? What adjustments can you make to make your practicing more effective? 

Now go practice. 

The Age of Misinformation

I loved my college years. I wouldn’t say they were the “best years of my life,” which we’re often told they should be. But I do get nostalgic about that time of my young adulthood. 

One thing I absolutely do not miss, however, is just how many hours I had to spend in the library to complete assignments, especially research papers. Forgive the "back in my day" recollection, but I can tell you tales about using card catalogs, writing first drafts of papers by hand, and waiting weeks for books to come in via inter-library loan only to finally get them and realize they weren't the sources I needed after all. Today, having so much information immediately available on my laptop allows me to be more efficient, thorough, and prolific. It has completely transformed academia. 

But this accessibility has a cost. When so much information is available, we can’t always tell which sources we can trust. This is exacerbated by the fact that some people create content that is deliberately misleading or even blatantly false. Sure, I don't have to spend hours walking the stacks in the library, but I do have to do a fair amount of fact-checking to verify the accuracy of what I find online. 

Of course, there is plenty of misinformation in the voice world. One recent online conversation was sparked by Dr. Ian Howell of the Boston Conservatory and the Embodied Music Lab. He brought up how voice teachers sometimes post before/after videos of their students, often from lessons or masterclass settings. One concern Howell articulated is that sometimes the instruction that gets a social-media-worthy result actually moves a student away from sustainable singing. In other words, the singer makes a big impressive sound, but it's not necessarily the kind of singing they would be able to use in the long run. Another concern he has is that edited videos that only show quick clips and highlights misrepresent the process of how real skills are built. It can give viewers the impression that vocal study is just about discovering breakthrough moments rather than the actual slow, steady progress that leads toward authentic learning. 

Yet another concern is that these videos could easily be faked (and some on the thread admitted to having witnessed people staging before/after videos). A teacher could easily record a student making an impressive sound, then go back and ask the student to sing it again with an obvious flaw, and then reverse the order when the video is posted. I know, it’s shocking to think that anyone would be so flagrantly dishonest (and on THE INTERNET, of all places!). Even so, when most of the process and the context is removed, it leaves the viewer in the dark about what really happened during the lesson. 

Still another concern has to do with privacy. I’m sure most teachers ask their students for permission before posting videos of their singing (at least, I hope they do). Even so, when there are inherent power dynamics at play, as can occur in any teacher-student relationship, there can easily be an unspoken pressure on the student to agree to have their video posted publicly, even if they would really prefer it not be. 

Consider this circumstance: a 17-year-old student is in a before/after video that gets a lot of views. Five years later, the now 22-year-old singer is auditioning for professional theatre jobs. A casting agent searches the internet to learn more about that singer and finds the before/after video. How would that singer feel if potential employers were watching a before video displaying their less-than-ideal singing? I wouldn't expect that situation to be forefront in the mind of a 17-year-old, but it's something their teachers should have the foresight to consider before posting a video of them. 

I encountered a second issue this week when I read an article—that had been shared by a reputable organization—that was full of misinformation, inaccuracies, and potentially harmful directions. Some claims were probably just a matter of opinion, like the extent to which “diaphragmatic breathing” plays a role in certain kinds of singing. Some advice was simply banal and, therefore, not at all useful, like, “To learn how to sing, you should improve your technique.” Um, yeah. Duh. But other claims and advice had the potential to create problems, like singing through a straw while pushing out a lot of air at the same time. Please don’t do this. 

When I come across these situations, I always want to know why someone would share something so ridiculous. One reason I keep coming back to is that the creator wants to appear like an expert. Maybe it gives them notoriety, clicks, money, something that justifies posting incorrect or unvetted information. Or maybe they've received bad information themselves and they're just resharing what they've been told. I understand that the Internet and social media are tools. Anyone running a private voice studio is essentially running a small business, so they have to find a way to promote their services. In addition, they have to be able to demonstrate what makes them unique and more worth your time (and money) than the other voice teachers who are just a couple of swipes away. But I refuse to believe that resorting to unethical practices, like being intentionally deceptive or dishonest, is the best way to go. 

How, then, can we be better consumers of these media? Is there any way to really know what’s true and what’s a load of crap? One solution is to get your information from a lot of different sources. As effective (and convenient) as social media can be, if that is your only source of vocal information (or information on politics, nutrition, etc.), then you’re almost certainly not getting the full story. Instead, read articles. Read books. Attend workshops in person. Look for long-form videos that show a more complete process rather than an edited-down version that only shows the highlights. Once you start to find authors or creators (I refuse to use the absurd term “influencer”) whose ideas resonate with you, look for other things they have contributed. Look up their background to see where they trained, who they learned from, and how they acquired their perspectives. In the academic realms, you can look for information that has been peer-reviewed, which means a number of other professionals in the field have gone over their work before it was made available. TikTok is not peer-reviewed. 

Of course, this takes time and effort. And social media is incredibly alluring with its constant offer of tips, tricks, and hacks that promise instant success. But learning doesn’t work that way. I encourage you to dig deeper, look for more substantive sources, and practice a healthy skepticism when confronted with anything promising quick fixes. After all, a wise man once said, “Slowly is the fastest way to get to where you want to be.” 

How you encountered confusing or odd voice-related information online? How has your practice been going? 

Now go practice. 

Advice from André De Shields

André De Shields is nothing short of a legend. In his nearly 60-year career, the actor, singer, dancer, director, and choreographer has won a Tony, a Grammy, and a Primetime Emmy, among other awards. On Broadway, he was in the original productions of The Full Monty, The Wiz, and Hadestown, where he originated the role of Hermes. Most recently, he appeared as Old Deuteronomy in Cats: The Jellicle Ball, a role that earned him another Tony nomination. 

Earlier this year, in an interview on National Public Radio, he offered some career advice that seems in line with our early-semester discussion on goals. And when someone like André De Shields offers advice, I figure it's in all of our best interests to pay attention. 

In his 2019 Tony Award acceptance speech, he said, "Slowly is the fastest way to get to where you want to be." NPR's Steve Inskeep asked him to expand on that idea. De Shields said, 

"Most people misunderstand that and say 'Slowly is the quickest way to get to where you want to go.' That is not what I said and it's certainly not what I meant. Now, because I am 80, I remember when 'fast' meant 'dependable,' meant 'secure'...[as in 'stand fast']...That's what I'm talking about when I say slowly is the fastest (surest) way to get where you want to be—not 'go.' That's a New York interpretation of it, because if you're not constantly in action you must not belong here, that kind of thing." 

I appreciate how intentional De Shields is about his words (an unsurprising trait for such a successful theatre artist). There are layers of wisdom in what he says that would seem to apply to all aspects of life, including singing training. So let's take a closer look. 

First of all, he advocates that we work slowly. I take that to mean that real progress doesn't happen immediately or on a short timetable. Rather, it is cultivated over many thoughtful hours, days, and years ("...not for just an hour, not for just a day, not for just a year..."). So we should make intentional choices as we go through the process of getting where we want to be, but we should also be patient with ourselves along the way. 

Second, De Shields says that slowly is the fastest way, as in the most dependable way. This seems to say that there are other ways to get where we want to be, some of which may actually be quicker than working slowly and purposefully. I suppose some people haphazardly or accidentally end up where they want to be. But the most dependable way, the most reliable way, the most responsible way (both words listed as synonyms for "dependable" at Thesaurus.com), is to work slowly—in other words, deliberately or gradually (Thanks again, Thesauraus.com.). 

Third, he makes a distinction between where we want to "be" and where we want to "go." Once again, brilliant word choice. One of the definitions for the word "be" is "to exist or live" (Dictionary.com). But another definition is "to belong." So, working toward where you want to "be" could mean working toward where you want to live, exist, and belong. That goes along with what De Shields calls the "New York interpretation" of his words, which falsely implies that if you aren't constantly in action then you must not belong. 

The other distinction worth noting on "be" versus "go" is that the first word lives in the present and the second is concerned with the future. If we are always focused on where we want to go at some point down the road, we may miss the opportunity to fully be, exist, and belong where we are. Since nothing in the future is guaranteed, focusing more on where (and who) we want to be now feels like a better plan than expending all our energy on trying to get somewhere else (or be someone else) at some later time. 

So what does that mean for setting goals? How can I make a three- to five-year plan, as we discussed in the last blog, if my focus is on being in the present? 

For starters, the word "be" is still a verb, meaning it can still be intentional and active rather than static. "Being" the best singer I can means that I will do something today that supports being the best singer I already am. That includes exercises and practice sessions that are designed to build skills, develop artistic capabilities, and simply enjoy what I am capable of doing today. Of course, it also has the added benefit of contributing to future growth, even if our focus is in the now. Imagine where you will eventually be in three to five years if you can commit to the slow, daily, dependable work of building where you want to be now. 

How has it been working on your goals these first few weeks? What have you noticed? Do you need to make any adjustments to your original goals? 

Now go practice. 

Reverse-Engineered Goals

New semester, new year, new blog. Welcome (back)! 

The first blog of every semester is usually focused on goal-setting for the semester and the school year. I would encourage you to read this, or this, or this, or this if you'd like some specific guidance on how to create meaningful goals. Any of the methods described in those blogs can lead you to success, so it's a good idea to try different ones and see what works best for you. 

I learned about a different process this summer when I read Prof. David Eggers's book, Crafting an Intentional Career for the Musical Theatre Performer (Routledge, 2025). I recently reviewed the book for Classical Singer magazine. Here's a section of the review outlining the system that David recommends for "reverse-engineering" your career: 

Chapter five, “An Intentional Career,” is notable for its direct ties to the book’s title. One of the journaling exercises presented therein relates to “the reverse-engineered career.” It encourages readers to provide a detailed assessment of the current state of their careers, followed by outlining their aspirations for what they would like their lives to be in the future—five years from now and three years from now. Then the task is to spell out which skills and “qualities of being” will have developed (and in what ways) that will have facilitated that success. Eggers further encourages them to imagine what actions they will have taken and how they will have overcome obstacles during those years. Of course, as he explains, there is no guarantee that events will play out as the exercise projects. “The exact ‘how’ of getting where you want to go is often, if not always, unclear,” he says. “…[but] if you are clear about your compelling future and you’re laying the groundwork for it by taking actions, and by becoming who you must be, the ‘how’ will present itself.” 

It seems to me this same approach could work when setting goals, as well. 

First, provide a detailed assessment of the current state of your vocal capabilities and then outline what capabilities you would like to have three to five years from now. This could be a list of roles you aspire to perform or maybe just some of the repertoire you'd like to be able to sing. 

Second, spell out the skills that will have developed in three to five years that will allow you to sing that repertoire: higher range, improved riffing ability, tone quality development, consistent belt-mix, etc. 

The other part of that, which shouldn't be ignored, is to identify the "qualities of being" that will have allowed you to get to that improved place with your capabilities. That could differ from person to person, but some qualities that come to my mind could be fortitude, resilience, curiosity, and desire. 

Third, identify what actions you will have taken and what obstacles you will have overcome to get where you wanted to be. For actions, that could be specific exercises used to target particular skills, but it could also mean committing to regular practice every week for a period of years. Then, importantly, you can also anticipate what obstacles you will have overcome, which could be frustration, temptation to focus on other things, or negotiating a busy schedule. 

As David says, there's no guarantee it will all play out the way you have outlined. In fact, I would guess that it's unlikely that it will. But the fact that you have clearly developed a plan and a timeline for what you want to be able to do and when makes it all tangible. It turns a dream into a goal. 

I also love how David emphasizes that you don't have to be entirely clear about the "how." You may not know all the exercises that you'll need, how many practice sessions it will take, or whether or not three to five years is a realistic timeline for you. Much of that, however, will emerge as you continue to work and study. This plan at least provides yourself a framework to explore and give you some next steps to implement. 

As we get started this semester, share a couple of goals you have for your vocal development. That could be related to specific vocal skills, expressive capabilities, or even just consistently sticking to a practice regimen. 

I'm excited to be back and looking forward to all the work we'll take on together. 

Now go practice. 

Flourishing

In the last blog, we talked about when we should incorporate feedback, when we should sit with feedback and consider it from all angles, and when we should perhaps dismiss feedback (even if it comes to us from a trusted source). I then mentioned that there is background work we can do that can keep us from gravitating too far toward the two extremes of blindly accepting or flat out rejecting all feedback and advice we receive. This background work involves continually seeking to know more about the field and to continually explore who we are and who we want to be. 

Knowing more about the field informs how we receive feedback. For instance, knowing the general expectations of performing in the genre helps us frame the feedback we receive. Similarly, if we don't have a solid understanding of how the industry works, it may be difficult to see how we might fit within it. The more we know, the more informed and intentional our choices can be in forging our own paths. Some of this knowledge comes from your university training, like classes, assignments, and productions. But, try as we do, there is no way we can give you all the information or assist in developing all of the skills you will need to navigate a career in this business in just four years (or five, or six). Some lessons can only come from experience, which is gained by getting out there and immersing yourself in the theatre world. Therefore, consistently working to gain both the knowledge and the experience you will need is crucial. 

Additionally, though it may sound ironic, it can take a lot of time, attention, and reflection to know who you are and to truly decipher who you want to be. As jazz legend Miles Davis said, “Man, sometimes it takes you a long time to sound like yourself.” Because of this, we are often quick to put ourselves into categories: “I’m Gen Z.” “I’m an introvert.” “I’m a Hufflepuff.” All of that can be perfectly fine. Our brains love categories—they help us make sense of things and can lead us to discover shared commonalities with others. But they can also be limiting if we subconsciously keep ourselves in those boxes. “I’m an introvert, so it’s OK if I avoid situations where I might meet new people.” “I’m an aural learner, so I don’t need to take notes.” “I’m a belter, so I don’t need to work on my head voice.” This can actually serve to limit our experience and can keep us from becoming all we could. 

So, how do we work to know who we are while still being open to growth? Since I’m still a work in progress myself, I can't claim to be an expert on the process. But I do have some theories. :) As I mentioned in the last blog, it seems the paths to knowledge of the field and knowledge of self are the same: study, listen, engage, practice, observe, and reflect. 

Study. This doesn't just refer to memorizing things for an exam (although declarative knowledge is important). This means thinking and considering, which roughly translates to “filter it through your experience.” When something jibes with your experience, you can simply say, “Great!” and move on. Or you can stop and think, “I wonder if that’s how it is for everyone?” When something doesn’t jibe with your experience, you can say, “Nah, I reject that.” Or you can stop and think, “I wonder what sort of life experiences would lead a person to come to those conclusions." 

I know this may be a losing battle in the age of AI, but I remain a fierce advocate of the importance of reading and writing as part of study. There may be some bias at play here, because I have personally learned so much from reading and then writing out my thoughts on what I’ve read. It’s one of the best ways I have found to consistently expose myself to new ideas and consider what they might mean to me. It doesn’t matter how many books you read each year, it matters how much you gain from the books you do read. 

Listen. Take it all in through your ear holes. And listen attentively. There is a time to simply let the sounds of music wash over you and experience how they make you feel. But, ideally, that should be followed by analytical listening: What is the structure of the piece? Does the song remind you of another song or style? (In other words, what traditions is the composer drawing upon?) How did the composer set the text (and why)? One of my favorite quotes is from Saint Benedict, who said, “Attend and listen with the ear of your heart.” To me, that’s the very definition of wholehearted, active listening. 

Engage. In the old Star Trek episodes I watched as a nerdy kid (as opposed to the nerdy adult I have become), before Captain Kirk, Spock, and their team of space explorers would go to a new planet, they would meet in the transporter room. Once everyone was ready, Kirk would say, “Engage,” and they would be beamed to the planet where the adventure would begin. Engaging is where the work starts. It’s where you take what you’ve learned and apply it (turning declarative knowledge into procedural knowledge). This can mean experimenting with a new skill, asking questions and starting dialogues, or setting up scenarios where new information can be tried out. Like the Star Trek crew, it is done with an explorer's mind, being curious about what you may find and bringing a desire to learn all you can. 

Practice. The whole reason I started this blog in fall of 2014 was to encourage dialogue about practice and explore ways to make our practice sessions more effective. But this applies to more than just the voice. Anything you want to be good at can be practiced: empathy, listening skills, curiosity, integrity. If we are what we do most often, then every day provides opportunities to practice being who we want to be. 

Observe. Pay attention to the world around you and to the people around you. Observe how people think, move, and interact. Notice how they communicate or problem solve. They are all just as imperfect as anyone else, so they won't always display traits or behavior to be emulated. But we can use these observations to notice patterns that may reveal deeper thinking or may make statements about what they believe and who they want to be, which can inform how we want to be. And, just like all other learning, we have to get away from distractions in order to focus enough to learn what these experiences have to teach us. 

In the same way, I recommend observing yourself. What makes you feel good or bad? How do interactions with certain people make you feel? What brings you joy and gratitude? How is that different now than it was four years ago? What do you love about how the world works? What infuriates you about how the world works? What do you take away from the relationships you have? How have they impacted who you are? Again, observe as an investigator, without judgment. Just notice. 

Then...reflect. A famous quote from Socrates states, "The unexamined life is not worth living." In other words, a life that lacks self-reflection and critical thinking may not be a life that is as fulfilling as it could be. Once again, reflection does not need to involve judging. We can acknowledge ways that we could have handled situations differently, which informs future choices, without beating ourselves up over previous choices. I heard recently that we should all probably be quicker to admit when we were wrong about something, because that essentially says, "I'm a bit wiser today than I was yesterday." This can only occur if we take the time to reflect. 

Of course, it wouldn't be a Brian blog if I didn't find some way to quote Lynn Helding. So here's one more for the year: 

"While the physician is often concerned with matters of life and death, the teacher of singing is tasked with something altogether different, yet no less important: human flourishing." (Helding and Ragan, "Evidence-Based Voice Pedagogy (EBVP), Part 3: Student Goals and Perspectives," Journal of Singing, 2022.)

It might feel that all of this self-analysis (study, listen, engage, practice, observe, and reflect) can make us pretty self-absorbed—as though what we do with our little lives is the most important thing in the world. As Helding points out, our chosen career field is not dealing with matters of survival, like feeding the hungry or curing diseases. But I don't believe life is simply to be survived. The arts help society flourish. And our society is in some pretty desperate need of some flourishing. So, it's in desperate need of artists. 

Seniors, you're nearing the end of your university education. Classes are almost over and performances are wrapping up. But the work of exploring who you are, who you want to be, and how you want to contribute to helping the world flourish is ongoing. 

Alexa, Hailey, and Jack, it's been an absolute dream to watch you study, listen, engage, practice, observe, and reflect over the last four years. It's been such a privilege to see you all grow and create. I hope you continue to help others flourish as much as you have our community here. We'll all miss you. 

Ready...engage!

Much love,

-brian

What You Think of Me

We've been exploring many different aspects of feedback this semester: validating vs. praising vs. encouraging, highlighting talent vs. effort, considering how certain feedback may make us feel (and whether that encourages a fixed mindset or a growth mindset), and remembering to keep the singing separate from the singer. 

All of this seems to bring up another significant question: Why should I care what someone else thinks about my singing? I mean, isn't the whole point for us to develop our individual voices based on what we believe feels and sounds the best to each of us? If that's true, why do other people's opinions matter? How much should they influence our decisions about what we do with our own voices? 

This is an important question to entertain. I suppose we could consider two extremes. On one side, you could be so desperate for validation and guidance that you cognitively check out and just wait to be told what to do so you can blindly follow that advice. It's one thing to put trust in your mentors, but it's another thing to give them all the deciding power, replacing their preferences for your own. This can also create problems when you receive conflicting information and aren't sure which guidance you should follow. 

On the other side, you can be so dug in on your own perspectives that you can become closed off to potentially useful ideas. I had a mentor once encourage me to adopt an attitude of, "What you think of me is none of my business." Meaning, you can offer me advice, if you'd like, but I'm going to make my own decisions. Or, as Billy Joel says, "You can speak your mind, but not on my time." Self-confidence and clear goals are generally positive attributes, but they can also keep us myopic in our view and shut us off to effective advice.

Like most things in life, the ideal balance is probably somewhere in between the two extremes. I had a lesson with a student once who was experiencing "feedback fatigue" and feeling confused due to all the different perspectives and opinions he was getting on his performances (I believe this was in the lead-up to Senior Showcase). Different professors, friends, and family members all had thoughts about which skills he should be highlighting in his set and he wasn't sure which route to go. I reminded him that, despite all the perspectives, it was ultimately his decision. I even offered the "What you think of me is none of my business" advice I had received. He responded, "OK, but what about during an audition when what someone else thinks of me is the difference between getting the job and not getting it?" 

Yeah, OK. I see your point. 

Maybe we need some some tactics to help keep you from gravitating to one of the extremes if (when) you get to your own point of "feedback fatigue." First, you can ask yourself: Is the person doling out the advice "in the arena"? That's a phrase I borrowed from author and professor Brené Brown. Someone who is in the arena is actively engaged in the work, putting themselves out there, and opening themselves up to feedback (be it praise or ridicule). If someone is not doing that—being vulnerable with their creative work—they really have no room to give you advice when you're being vulnerable with yours. 

Second, is the final goal you are trying to achieve actually knowable? In the case of an audition, the knowable goal would seem to be landing the role. The unknowable part is what exactly the panel is looking for that will cause them to put you in the role instead of someone else. So consider whether the feedback you are receiving is actually aimed at achieving a knowable goal or trying to work too specifically toward an unknowable goal. 

Third, does the feedback you're receiving allow for your perspectives, goals, and desires? Actually, does the advice prioritize your perspectives, goals, and desires? Additionally, does it allow you to feel like you are bringing more of yourself to the work or does it make you feel like you're trying to be what someone else wants you to be? 

Of course, our thoughts and perspectives change over time. So, part of our job is to continually seek to know more about the field (study, listen, engage, practice, observe, reflect). The other part of our job is to continually explore and develop who we are, what we value, and what you want from life, as well as what you want from your career. The process, unsurprisingly, is largely the same: study, listen, engage, practice, observe, reflect. More on that in the final blog of the school year. 

As we near the end of the semester, consider using these questions to help you process feedback about performances, callbacks, or post-graduation next steps. 

Now go practice. 

Praise Further Revisited

This semester, we’ve been exploring aspects of augmented feedback (augmented meaning the feedback that comes from an external source like a teacher or a peer, as opposed to inherent feedback which is what you notice internally when you sing). Specifically, we've identified the differences between praise (“That was so good!” “You’re a great singer!”) and encouragement (“Your belt has really improved!” “I can really see the attention you have given to your expressive choices.”). 

In this blog, I want to dig in a bit more on praise. In The Musician’s Mind, author and pedagogue Lynn Helding presents some of the ideas of education scholar Alfie Kohn. In educational settings, Kohn criticizes the use of "goodies" like candy, praise, and financial rewards, to incentivize behavior. In his opinion, this practice has given rise to a generation of children who have never learned the joy of discovery or taken delight in learning for learning's sake. He believes it's partly because the use of incentives has made them addicted to the reward (including praise) rather than truly seeking to learn something new. As a result, he finds these individuals are less likely to take on an endeavor or pursue a goal unless there is some sort of reward—and usually a reward that can be earned fairly quickly (Helding, 6). 

As a Gen X kid, I don’t think that is necessarily how I was raised (it was before the era of participation trophies), but I know it played some part in my life. I was lucky to have parents who were incredibly supportive of all the activities my siblings and I participated in. They were a fixture in the stands at every game, meet, match, concert, and competition—home or away, 90 degrees and humid or nine degrees and snowy. I appreciated having them there and enjoyed the post-game-breakdown conversations we would have after each event, reliving both the highs and lows. 

When I decided to go to college in a different state, however, that changed. Since I still had a little brother at home, they were busy going to all of his events, supporting him as they had me. It took a lot more effort and planning to get to my events. I think that’s when I really had to decide who I was doing these things for. Was it just for the praise I received from them after the events or was it out of my own desire to pursue excellence and enjoyment in the activity? 

You may remember the growth mindset and fixed mindset ideas from psychologist Carol Dweck that I have brought up in blogs and in pedagogy class. Essentially, when you have a fixed mindset, you believe that people are born with “talent” and that you just are or are not good at something. If you don’t believe you are talented as a singer, it feels worthless to practice because you don't believe you would actually get better. But a growth mindset accepts that we are all capable of learning many skills. If you don’t feel particularly good at singing, you recognize that you can improve if you commit to working at it. 

Dweck believes that the feedback we offer to others (as peers, teachers, and even as parents) can either reinforce someone’s fixed mindset or lead them to take on more of a growth mindset. As she notes (once again, as described in The Musician’s Mind), when we offer feedback that emphasizes someone’s innate abilities or “talent” (“That was so good!” “You’re a great singer!”), it can reinforce a fixed mindset. In a way, it says, “You didn't have to work for this, it's just who you are.” If someone starts to believe that, it can have the strange effect of causing them not to work at building those skills. They tend to settle in and actually avoid challenges. Even though challenges ("desirable difficulties") are what help us to grow, someone in a fixed mindset just sees them as ways to potentially expose what they aren't already good at, which can then threaten their identities as "good" singers. As Helding states, 

"Children who have been stoked by tales of their natural talent and fed big dollops of praise tend to clutch that talent as a talisman, which wards off both effort (unnecessary anyway, due to the magic of their natural gifts) as well as failure. Nothing ventured, nothing gained—and neither pride nor face is lost. This kind of behavior leads to a double whammy for the fixed-mindset kid: unexposed to failure, he neither progresses very much nor develops any strategies to respond to inevitable failures in the future. And it seems that those who have been stroked the most often fall the hardest, even to the point of complete psychological collapse. This vicious cycle has been fittingly dubbed 'the inverse power of praise.'" (The Musician's Mind, 190-91)

Conversely, when we compliment someone's effort (“Your belt has really improved!” “I can really see the attention you have given to your expressive choices.”), it tends to reinforce the fact that conscious effort leads to results. It reminds them that they control their own vocal-skill destiny, which leads them to embrace challenges as a way to grow, instead of avoiding them as exposers of deficiencies. 

Once again, consider the augmented feedback you provide. Do you tend to compliment talent or effort? Do you reinforce that someone is good or do you acknowledge their progress on the journey? Consider also how you respond to feedback. When someone offers you a positive comment, does it inspire you to work harder or does it lull you into inaction? Maybe the type of feedback is a factor. 

Spring break is here! (Or almost here, depending on when you're reading this.) How have you been doing on the goals you set at the start of the semester or the start of the school year? What adjustments can you make to keep working toward progress?

Now go practice. 

Validation in Studio Class

With our first vocal workshop and studio classes coming up, this is a good time to talk about why we hold these classes every year. Yes, it gives you all performance opportunities. Yes, it's another chance to manage performance anxiety (stage fright) by singing in front of people. And, yes, it allows you to try out new rep or your jury set. 

There are other reasons, as well, that have been discussed in a couple of sources I've been pulling from this semester. Returning again to Matthew Benkert's Journal of Singing article "Building a Foundation of Trust in Vocal Pedagogy," he identifies a number of additional benefits these settings can offer. "Studio classes, when done with an eye toward collaboration, can increase students' self-confidence and enable vicarious learning when students serve as mentors to one another," he says. "A studio culture of empowerment can be created when voice pedagogues and peers validate each student's work." 

Obviously, theatre involves a lot of collaborative work already. There are elements that can be worked on individually, but that work is usually intended to be shared eventually. So it makes sense to have collaborative vocal settings, as well. Besides what students can learn when they are the ones performing and receiving feedback, I always love the "vicarious learning" that also happens in studio classes where you may see something that makes you think, "Hmm, I'm going to try that, too!" 

I also appreciate how Benkert mentions the self-confidence and empowerment that can occur when peers validate each other. This means your role in these classes is not just as an audience member who sits back and passively observes. The success of the class, and the improvement of your colleagues, depends on your engagement and your augmented feedback. 

Of course, the kind of feedback we give makes a big difference as to how it will be received. Which kind is most useful here? As Benkert says, self-confidence and empowerment increase when students offer feedback that serves to "validate" each student's work. I'm sure I could write an entire blog on the intricacies and implications of the word "validate" in a voice studio setting (note to future self...), but one of the official definitions is to "demonstrate or support the truth or value of." Essentially, to me, it's a recognition of what is before us. We don't have to offer corrections or suggestions—all we have to provide in order to validate is our positive observations. "This is what I saw." That allows the student to ask themselves, "Is that what I was trying to accomplish?" In this way, the exercise still promotes self-reflection by the singer and to consider whether or not they would like to change something. 

Of course, general audience feedback is often validating, as well. Comments like, "You have such a lovely voice!" and "Your performance was just beautiful!" can certainly be validating in the sense that they provide observations. But, they are also non-specific enough to risk being taken as praise, which I discussed in the last blog. 

As a reminder, Makiko Ueda pointed out that praise can help boost confidence and build rapport, so it does have a bit of a role. But in order to truly have a positive effect, it has to come from a place of sincerity and authenticity. Therefore, your job in studio classes is not to be fake or gushing in your comments if that is not what you feel. No one benefits when we just blow smoke. But, as we practiced in our Vocal Pedagogy class listening exercises, the first thing I would encourage us all to look for when we hear someone sing are the positive attributes. What is going well? What do you like? What is vocally efficient? What is artistically expressive? If you can't come up with something positive to say that is also sincere, that might be more reflective of your own limitations rather than that of the singer. 

Another helpful element of studio classes is the community they can help establish. For ideas on this concept, I'm returning to the new book Student-Centered Voice Pedagogy: Working with Students toward Developing Artistry, Authenticity, and Autonomy (Bloomsbury Academic, 2025). In particular, there is a chapter called "Coconstructing Your Own Curriculum: Promoting Student Agency and Individual Voice Development," written by voice pedagogues Jeanne Goffi-Fynn, Chris Citera, and Emily Hudson. They write: 

"...building a strong community in the classroom, rehearsal, or studio by singing together creates a shared experience of belonging and being a part of a community. This, in turn, is a powerful means to help students connect to each other and to society at large. These multiple aspects of student identity—as an individual, as part of a cultural heritage, as part of a community, as a global citizen—intersect and enhance one another, and thus it is a larger sense of belonging that informs and cultivates an overall sense of well-being among people." (p.174)

I don't delude myself into thinking that every student in our program is best friends with every other student. Naturally, I would assume that there are people with whom you generally have positive interactions and others with whom you may not get along at all. That's to be expected. So, studio class isn't necessarily intended to make you all best friends (although that can certainly occur). However, it is intended to give a group of people who are seeking the same thing (improved individual performance) a shared experience where we are all working toward that shared goal. It is that shared goal of helping everyone improve their individual performance through the means of positive validation that allows for a sense of belonging to develop and connecting among us to occur. 

Therefore, your observations, validations, and engagement are crucial not only to the goal of all students improving their skills but also to establishing connection and belonging. Passive observation cannot get us there. Engaged, positive engagement does. 

Think of how you may consider offering positive validations to your classmates and to yourself. 

Spring break is approaching—let's stay focused! 

Now go practice. 

Praise Revisited

Five years ago, I wrote a blog about praise—why we want it, how it makes us feel, and the role it can play in vocal training. According to multiple formal definitions, praise can be admiration, commendation, laudation, adulation, or approval offered toward another person.

There are lots of ways we can offer someone praise. "Good job!" "Atta way!" *pats on the head* "Here's $1,000,000!" 

As I wrote five years ago, praise of our singing can feel like an important part of our training. It helps us know we are improving and that what we are doing is effective. It also helps us know whether we are meeting a standard of success by earning the approval of our teachers, our peers, and our audiences. It can also help us know if we are meeting our own performance benchmarks, which can be a useful indication as to whether or not we are on track in reaching our goals. 

However, praise can have a downside, too, as reflected in a new book titled Student-Centered Voice Pedagogy: Working with Students toward Developing Artistry, Authenticity, and Autonomy edited by Jeanne Goffi-Fynn and Matthew Hoch. In a chapter called "Establishing Rapport," author Makiko Ueda highlights how praise can actually serve as a "roadblock" to progress by inhibiting our self-exploration. Citing the work of therapist Dr. Jane Nelsen, she makes a distinction between praise and encouragement. "Praise is to express a favorable judgment and expression of approval, and the locus of control is external: a student feels good only when the teacher approves" (31). "In contrast, encouragement is to inspire students; it helps them reflect upon their work and promotes self-evaluation. When students feel encouraged, they have a sense of ownership in their progress." (32) 

Ueda lists examples of praise: "You are a good musician." "You are such a good student." "I'm proud of you for passing the audition." 

She then notes how encouragement can differ from praise: "I appreciate your performance at the recital. It reflected your hard work this semester." "I noticed your trill has improved since last time. How did you go about practicing it?" "How do you feel about passing your audition?"

This isn't to say there is no place for praise in the voice studio. But there are qualifiers. As Ueda notes, "Praising students is helpful in building the student's confidence and rapport if it comes from a place of sincerity and authenticity. However, when praise is not based on actual merit, it can be problematic. Vague feedback such as 'good job' may contain a message of judgment—although it is positive—and does not provide a clear reason for the praise" (31). 

So it seems that, in order to be most useful, praise should be sincere (We can usually tell when it isn't, can't we?), specific ("Good job!" is not as helpful as "I appreciated how you were able to incorporate such effective use of dynamics."), and should inspire further commitment to the process. 

Don't get me wrong. Sometimes I'm happy just to hear a simple "Atta way!" But the good feelings from such a comment tend to fade pretty quickly and it offers no useful feedback that can lead to a next step. 

Think about the way you comment on others' performances. Do you tend to offer praise or encouragement? 

Now think about the way you comment on your own performances. Do you tend to offer praise or encouragement (or discouragement)? 

How has your practice been going, now that we're a full month into the semester? Have you been able to maintain your practice schedule or does it need some tweaks? 

Now go practice. 

Future-Focused Feedback

Last March, I wrote a blog called "How Does Feedback Make You Feel?," which considers the feedback we receive about our singing both from our teachers and from ourselves. Specifically, I asked you all to consider how you provide feedback to yourselves. Do you correct yourself gently, offering adjustments with kindness? Do you encourage yourself to keep trying with confidence that you can improve? Or are you "your own worst critic," giving yourself feedback laced with judgment and cruelty?

To continue the discussion on feedback, I'd like to return again to the article I cited in the last blog: "Building a Foundation of Trust in Vocal Pedagogy" by Matthew Benkert (Journal of Singing, January 2026). Relating to the feedback that students receive from their teachers, Benkert highlights that any perceived shaming of a student from a teacher (even if unintentional) can trigger a subconscious emotional response that can create an obstacle to learning. Interestingly (and, I suppose, unsurprisingly), students without a fully developed prefrontal cortex (like teenagers and young adults—i.e., college students!) are particularly prone to coping "less soundly" with negative feedback (Benkert, p.285). 

This is not just true of singers. Benkert notes a study where students outside of the arts had initial emotional reactions when receiving feedback in a face-to-face setting that was critical of their work (Hill, Healey, West, and Dery, 2021). As he states, "How much more so is this true of musicians who are offering their own voice for critique?" (p.285). I think we have all felt this at one point or another. As discussed in the last blog, since our voices are so personal to us, a critique of our vocal technique can feel like a critique of our selves. Even if we intellectually understand that is not what is happening, our bodies may still have an instant reaction to the critique that can make it more difficult to incorporate the feedback we receive in a positive way. 

So, how can we deal with this? How can we receive critical feedback in such a way that it doesn't send us into a negative emotional spiral? How can we instead get right to the work of incorporation and improvement? 

Well, some of that responsibility is on me (and all of your teachers). We have to be mindful of when and how we are providing feedback and what it is intended to bring about. If I am offering negative feedback—like simply pointing out something you didn't do so well—all that does is create an awareness of something you did poorly. This may help you know what you did wrong, but it also risks eliciting a negative response. 

Instead, I can right away offer potential tactics for increased performance on your next attempt. This gives you something to do the next time and does not just make you aware of something you maybe shouldn't have done the previous time. For example, if you crack on a high note, I could say something like, "You cracked on that high note." That probably doesn't help anything because you were likely already aware of that. It also doesn't offer you a solution. Instead, I could say something like, "You cracked on that high note because you were using too much subglottic breath pressure and failed to shift the dominant muscle from the thyroarytenoid to the cricothyroid as you increased your pitch." This comment certainly provides more information, but again offers no solution. 

A better response might be, "OK, what would happen if you take a smaller inhalation before singing that again? Also, as you go higher, could you imagine that you are still releasing air rather than feeling like you're holding it back?" These comments don't even acknowledge that anything went wrong, which may just be stating the obvious and could initiate an emotional spiral. Instead, they encourage exploration of new tactics, which may lead to improved performance. 

An even better response, especially for students in the second stage of learning, might be to ask, "What did you notice that time around?" This encourages students to engage with the process rather than wait for teachers to provide all the answers. After students have provided their own self-diagnosis, a follow-up question could be, "What do you think we could try that would make that phrase smoother?" Again, this encourages student engagement and involves them in finding solutions rather then dwelling on less-successful attempts. 

As Benkert writes, "The goal should be feedback with a future-focused message, where the student is empowered as an active participant in their learning. This creates an avenue for them to regulate emotional signals as they work toward future professional goals, such as reinterpreting their emotional reaction to an unsuccessful audition rather than dwelling in negativity." (p.285). 

The best news about all of this is that it's a process you can use in the practice room, too. Try something. If it doesn't go as well as you'd have liked, try to identify what could be improved. Then strategize solutions. Then try something different. Consider what "future-focused" feedback you can provide yourself, instead of getting stuck in the moment of failure. 

In what other area of your life might a "future-focused" approach benefit you?

Now go practice. 

Separating the Singer from the Singing

Happy New Year! Let's get right to it. 

Usually my first blog of each semester focuses on some aspect of goal setting. As we know, having specific goals (not too vague) that are achievable (just outside of your current capabilities) and written down (not just kept in mind) is a reliable way to move toward improved performance. Let's talk in your lessons about what specific technical and artistic goals you may want to work toward this semester. 

For this first blog of 2026, I was encouraged by an article in the most recent Journal of Singing to consider making an additional goal for the semester. In a piece titled, "Building a Foundation of Trust in Vocal Pedagogy," author Matthew Benkert explores how our identities as singers can become intertwined with our feelings of self worth. As such, negative feedback about our vocal performance can be taken as criticism of who we are as people. This is something I'll discuss further in a later blog. To help prevent this from happening, Benkert suggests working to create a positive environment in voice lessons such that "the singing is separated from the singer." Why? As he says, "Without acknowledging and valuing the student for their humanity, there is little chance the student will value themselves, particularly when receiving feedback in a vulnerable learning environment." 

So, how can we create a healthy separation of our voices from our selves? Benkert offers some advice: "First, it is important that the student be treated as an individual first, then as a musician." Although this applies to how teachers relate to their students, it also applies to how we treat ourselves. We all have a multiplicity of identities, all of which intersect in unique ways that contribute to who we are. We all have values and ideals, morals and guiding principles that influence how we see ourselves in the world and that inform how we behave. In my case, I identify as a husband, son, sibling, friend, citizen, mentor, teacher, and, yes, singer (among other things). I'm a work in progress in all of these areas. I can recognize times when I have not been as good of a son or friend as I could have been, just as I can recognize times when I have not been as good of a teacher or singer as I am capable of. Those instances don't make me a bad person—they make me a PERSON. Building relationships takes time and attention, just like building vocal skills. And there is no final destination to reach, since we are always evolving. 

When you step into your voice lessons, you don't stop being all the various parts of who you are. You bring that along with you, which is exactly what you should do. I have often said that your voice is not your art. It's only the vehicle through which you bring your art to an audience. Your LIFE is your art. When you live a life of openness, curiosity, conversation, exploration, and relationship, you build a reservoir of deep experiences (both positive and negative) that form who you are. Once you know who you are and who you want to be, and determine the values that stem from each of your identities, you tend to act accordingly. 

The amalgamation of these experiences (who you are) is what you bring to your performances—not just your vocal capabilities. In fact, in my opinion, the only reason to cultivate and build our vocal capacities is so that we are better able to communicate what we know and feel in our hearts. If forced to choose, I would always rather watch a performance of someone with a less-polished voice expressing something heartfelt than someone with pristine tones who doesn't have much to say. 

Of course, as we all know, our vocal instruments certainly do require both training and care, especially if we are to build sustainable careers. But, if we become bound to our voices in such a way that it keeps us from having relationships and experiences, it comes at the expense of developing our artistry (our lives). 

The good news is that you don't have to abandon your routine and your schedule in order to seek out life-altering experiences so that you might build an artistic life. Mother Teresa is credited with having said, “Not all of us can do great things, but we can do small things with great love.” Every day we are surrounded by opportunities to have meaningful experiences (or to be the impetus for meaningful interactions). All we have to do is be open to them and have the courage to pursue them. 

So, alongside establishing some goals to help build your technique and creativity this semester, what are some goals you have to build your artistry? In other words, how can you be more intentional about making the experiences of your days and your relationships with others more meaningful and, thus, your life more of a work of art? 

Let's have a great semester. 

Now go practice.