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. 

Pursuing the performing arts

World-renowned opera singer Renée Fleming is concerned about how I sleep at night. 

OK, that's not exactly true. But she offered some strong opinions on performing arts education earlier this summer at the Voice Foundation Annual Symposium in Philadelphia. Here's what she said: 

Given the climate right now for opera and classical music performance—which is what I know—I think there are far too many universities and colleges taking money from young people who shouldn’t be. I’m sorry, but it’s true. And what’s criminal about it is that . . . I mean, somebody recently said to me there should be an antitrust suit. These kids will all have debt—terrible debt—when they get out of school.

I used to give master classes at small schools—I don’t anymore—but I’ve done it. And sure, there’s the occasional miraculous talent. But even those students, if they don’t get on the right track quickly, by their late 20s, the possibilities start to decline significantly.

And then I hear people who really have no business majoring in voice—but the schools take them anyway. I once asked someone at a major conservatory, “How do you sleep at night?” I know that was a bit harsh. But he said, “Well, you know, a lot of people use that degree to go on and then major in something else.” And I thought, Wow. Given what secondary education costs, that’s a bit rich.

I know that this is what she said because I was there when she said it. Literally, I took this picture (that's her on the right): 

As often happens at these conferences, you take in a lot of information and hear some big ideas. But, as also happens, the daily schedule is so packed that you can't linger too long on any one presentation because there are so many others to get to. So, I remember having some thoughts on what she said, and I had a brief discussion with some colleagues as to their thoughts, but then we moved on. 

A couple of months later, however, author Norman Lebrecht published Ms. Fleming's comments on the classical music website Slipped Disc. After that, it was widely shared on social media, which really got people talking. 

First of all, I have a tremendous amount of respect and admiration for Ms. Fleming. I have seen her perform live many times (in operas and in concerts) and I own several of her CDs (yes, CDs) that I still hang on to even though most of those recordings are available digitally now. So when she speaks about her experience as a professional in the industry, I generally listen. But, of course, people can have different opinions. 

Second, it's important to note that she is talking about people who study classical performance in college. Classical music audiences have been shrinking for some time. Tuition at many of what are recognized as top conservatories is usually quite high. So it is wise to consider the full value of that education and the prospects of professional success, which are often less guaranteed for performance majors than for those who choose other fields. So cost/benefit considerations are a crucial factor when making such a big decision as where to go to college and what to major in. 

If Ms. Fleming has run into people who are essentially guaranteeing students that they will have performing careers, or misleading them about their potential for success (though that can be difficult to determine when someone is 18 years old, especially when it comes to the voice), then I agree that it would be reckless (or even possibly "criminal," as she says) to make such claims. As we all know, abilities are only one component of sustained success in this field. No one should say, "If you come study at this school, you will have a performing career." 

I do take some issue with a few of her comments, however, that undeniably come from my experience (and probably my bias and privilege). I went to a small school for college. To be sure, I have not had anywhere close to the performing experience that Ms. Fleming has had (literally, not even 0.001%). But I also know that my education at that small school absolutely prepared me for my career in music and theatre (humble though it may be), as did my other two degrees in performance (only one of which was from a big conservatory). So I tend to think that even those of us without "miraculous talent" deserve to pursue the field we want and see where it may lead. 

I also understand her concern that college administrators might accept someone with less "talent" into a performing arts degree with the justification that they will probably also major in something else. It seems the assumption is that they will ultimately pursue other career paths. That can feel disingenuous. As university employees, we must be honest about what the field looks like and we have to help students assess their capabilities and their progress in relation to the general expectations of professional success. 

However, I also believe that arts education should be available for everyone who wants to pursue it—especially if they have the volition, desire, and willingness to put in the effort (and get some good sleep as best they can). I believe in this because of the way arts education forms human beings while also, yes, making them eminently employable in a variety of fields. 

As I blogged last year at this time, artists learn and practice empathy and authentic communication, and must have a willingness to be vulnerable. Through their performances, artists bring examples of deep beauty and true strength to audiences, which goes beyond mere entertainment or distraction. These skills are desperately needed both in our society and in our places of employment. 

Of course, not everyone needs to go to college. And there are lots of problems with higher education, the most obvious being that it is way too expensive. At the prices many schools are charging, students (and parents) should want to know what skills, opportunities, and jobs that high-priced education might provide. After all, landlords don't accept sonnets in place of rent. It would be wonderful to spend your college years discussing great books, learning world history, creating art, and (even more importantly) building relationships with people who will support you, challenge you, love you, and help you see the world differently. But bills don't wait. 

That being said, if someone wants to study the performing arts, I don't think they should be told they have "no business" pursuing that major. Certainly, both risks and benefits should be considered, and taking on debt that would be prohibitive over a lifetime should probably be avoided. But this is a field worth pursuing, which can provide both a good living and a good life. 

I'm sleeping just fine. 

I'm looking forward to this homestretch of the semester. What final touches are you still hoping to bring to your performances? 

Much love.

-brian

Reinforce

There is one final step left to explore in “The Four Rs of Effective Practice.” When you establish your resolve, resolve on a plan of action, repeat that plan of action, and refine that plan of action, the final step is to reinforce. This is where you really start to strengthen, bolster, and shore up your skills. 

Initially, this may involve rote repetition, allowing your body and brain to experience a successful pattern enough times for it to become familiar. As the skill begins to take hold, reinforcement can progress to include variability. In a way, that process is similar to the “refine” step but in reverse—taking a successful strategy and introducing confounding or interfering elements to see if the success can be maintained. This may come in the form of singing an exercise with different vowels or words, with a more complicated melodic pattern, or with varying dynamics.

You can also introduce physical movements as ways to reinforce, maybe seeing if you can execute the skill while walking backward just as well as when standing still (or maybe while doing the worm breakdancing move). You may try interspersing other vocal exercises between iterations of the exercise you're trying to reinforce. You may start to change your surroundings or circumstances by singing in different rooms, singing at different times of day, or singing in front of audiences of different sizes. This variability will reinforce the skill and start to solidify it within your capabilities, moving it into the 3rd stage of learning (the automatic stage). 

To reiterate some of what I said when I started this series of "The Four Rs of Effective Practice," practice is a crucial component for improving vocal skills, but it can also be challenging and difficult to find the motivation to do. To once again quote author Joanie Brittingham in Practicing for Singers: A Guide to Solid Practice Habits, “While practice habits are only a small part of what is required for a successful singing career, they can be some of the easiest things to correct.” (viii)

Rosenberg and LeBorgne offer some final pertinent advice in The Vocal Athlete: Application and Technique for the Hybrid Singer:  

"Vocal pedagogy is not about learning a broad recipe of exercises to use systematically across all students. Voice pedagogy is about choosing exercises that are appropriate not only for the moment but also for the long-term development of the student. It is about recognizing when a student requires modification or adaptation, knowing when to push a student, and when to pause." (xiii)

“The Four Rs of Effective Practice” is not a “recipe of exercises” or a checklist. It's a process of exploration. By keeping them in mind, you probably won't ever have to wonder what you should be doing in the practice room. Just start by committing to your resolve, resolve upon a plan of action for the skill you want to address, repeat the decided-upon strategy, refine either the implementation of that strategy or the strategy itself, and reinforce what leads you to success. 

Now go practice. 

Refine

Continuing through "The Four Rs of Effective Practice," singers can first find their resolve (determination), then resolve on a plan of action, then implement and repeat that plan of action. 

If strict repetitions (and the natural variations that come with repeated attempts) aren't leading to success, the next step is to refine how you implementing the strategy—in other words, changing something about the way you are performing the exercise. Since singing involves many systems (for example, respiration, phonation, resonance, articulation, etc.) all of which are interacting in a non-linear manner, every strategy may have lots ways in which it can be performed. As Rosenberg and LeBorgne state in The Vocal Athlete: Application and Technique for the Hybrid Singer, “There are many ways to approach the same vocal problem or issue. A teacher must be prepared to modify and adapt in the moment as needed.” (xiii) Singers can similarly modify and adapt during practice sessions. 

Refining the execution of an exercise may involve checking in on these various systems for levels of balance. Maybe there is too much engagement in one system (hyperfunction) or not enough engagement in another (hypofunction). Maybe extraneous tension is interfering with the process. If so, refining the implementation of your strategies, and then repeating the refined implementation, may help move you closer to your target. 

If refining the implementation is not leading you in the desired direction, the strategy itself can be refined. For instance, if the exercise is performed on a certain vowel, maybe changing to another vowel would be useful. If the new vowel seems to help, you can gradually start shifting back toward the original vowel as your system calibrates—taking what works and moving it in the direction of what isn't working. If the strategy involves the use of a semi-occluded vocal tract exercise (SOVTE) like a lip trill or a voiced consonant, shifting to a different SOVTE, like straw phonation, may improve your performance. 

These sorts of refinements are not wholesale changes to your original strategy—they're simply adjustments. The core of the exercise remains intact as you start to introduce subtle tweaks. Of course, as you refine your strategies, each adjustment may require multiple repetitions to find success.

If multiple attempts, refinements, and additional attempts are not leading to desired results, an entirely new strategy may be needed. Rosenberg and LeBorgne again offer advice for teachers in these situations that singers can also use in the practice room:

If the exercise ultimately does not yield the intended outcome, it is incumbent upon the teacher to reassess and modify to suit the specific needs of the student, for it is the process that is important, not a specific exercise. We encourage you to explore and experiment . . . Take what is useful and modify and adapt to the needs of your students. (xiv)

In this case, you can go back to the first “R” of effective practice and resolve upon a new plan of action. Although it can feel like failure to have to start all over again, all of these investigations provide a body of evidence that can inform your future choices. Each ineffective strategy you identify could mean you are one step closer to finding the strategy that will work. 

I admit that the work of finding the right strategy can be tedious and frustrating business. A strategy that may have worked for you a month ago may not be working as well today. A strategy that seemed to work in your lesson or in class may not work as well when you are on your own. These are situations where you may, once again, need to tap into your resolve. 

When you find yourself in one of these dead ends, it may help to consider yourself like a detective solving a mystery. You develop an informed theory based on the evidence and clues you have access to. One by one, you start to follow useful clues until you finally find the missing piece that leads you to resolve (there's that word again) the case. This approach can empower you to use your practice time to explore, make informed choices, and enjoy the thrill of discovery. 

Now go practice. 

Repeat

In the first two blogs this semester, we've covered the first R in "The Four Rs of Effective Practice," which has two parts. The first definition of resolve is “firmness of purpose or intent; determination,” meaning we should acknowledge that practice can be difficult to commit to and then find our resolve/determination to go forward with it anyway. The second definition is “to come to a determination. . . to resolve on a plan of action.” As this relates to practice, we should decide what specific goal or technique we are going to work on and what exercises we will use to reach that goal. 

Once a goal has been identified and a strategy has been resolved upon, the next step is to implement the strategy. In other words, try it out and see how it goes. Naturally, this is likely to result in one of two outcomes: success or failure. 

When we are successful, this is when we implement the second R: repeat. Successfully executing a technique one time does not mean it has been added to your skill set. You need to repeat it to really build consistency. Eventually, you will need to add obstacles or "desirable difficulties," like trying it in a higher range or on a different vowel or singing it in front of people. This is what moves you into the automatic stage of learning and solidifies the skill. 

What do we do when failure occurs? If a strategy doesn't lead to immediate success, it may simply need more repetitions. Given human imperfection, no iteration of any task will be exactly the same as any previous (or subsequent) iteration. Even when attempting to perform a task in the same way, subtle differences are likely to occur. By giving a failed attempt additional repetitions, it allows the body to make subconscious adjustments that may make success more probable. When success is elusive, as the cliché states, we should try, try again. 

There is plenty of research highlighting the benefits of repetition in various situations, like when learning a language, learning how to read, and expanding vocabulary. Author Tony Kenler calls repetition "the heartbeat of progress." He highlights how our brains mold and adapt as a result of repetitive experiences due to neuroplasticity, which allows our brains to create new neural pathways and strengthen existing pathways. 

Repetition, therefore, helps us ingrain both new and existing techniques. But it can also help us commit to regular practice sessions. As described in Psychology Today, habits are built through repetition, such as when someone is pursuing a goal. This is done when we start to associate certain cues with certain behaviors. For instance, you may decide that, every time you get out of your Monday/Wednesday class at 4:20pm, you'll go practice. After doing this for a while, you may start to feel a pull to go practice every Monday/Wednesday at 4:20pm, even when the semester is over and you no longer have that class. This is just one of the benefits of having regularly scheduled practice times—the repetition leads to a habit. 

Of course, repetition takes patience. My former teacher, Dr. Robert Harrison, relates a story in Voices of Influence about the exercises he used to help young tenors develop their high range by descending through the passaggio on a falsetto [u] vowel. "Young teachers, including myself, were always disappointed if that exercise didn’t fix the issue the first time,” he says. “How loony! But by training the muscles over a period of time, the change occurred.” Try, try again. 

The directions you can find on most shampoo bottles read, "Lather, rinse, repeat." You probably don't have to do this more than once in the same shower session, but if you want luscious hair (and who doesn't?), you'll likely have to do it more than once a week. The research on repetition seems to imply that the shampoo bottle is offering wise advice. Learning requires repetition. Building regular practice habits also requires repetition. 

Now go practice. Then repeat.

Resolve, Part 2

In the last blog, I presented the first definition of “resolve.” When used as a noun, its definition includes, “firmness of purpose or intent; determination” (Dictionary.com). Knowing that practice routines can be hard to consistently stick to, it can help to consciously commit to our resolve and simply decide to do it. 

The second meaning of resolve is also an important step in effective practice. When used as a verb, resolve means “to come to a determination; make up one’s mind . . . to resolve on a plan of action” (Dictionary.com). This gets to the specifics of what you decide you want to work on, what goals you hope to achieve, and what tactics and strategies you will use to reach those goals. So, once you have found your resolve (determination), you should resolve on a plan of action. 

The first step is to decide what you want to accomplish. Think back to the goals you articulated in the last blog. Once you’ve identified a specific skill you want to work toward, you need exercises that are designed to target that skill. We all know that this is how physical strength is built. If you want to develop core strength, you have to do exercises that target that area. If you want to build your biceps, squats aren’t going to do that directly. But, when it comes to vocal practice, we often just default to whatever exercises come to mind or whatever ones we’re most familiar with. 

If you’re not sure what exercises to use to work toward your goals, your teachers can help. In the book The Vocal Athlete: Application and Technique for the Hybrid Singer, authors and voice pedagogues Marci Rosenberg and Wendy D. LeBorgne state, “A vocal exercise is only effective if the teacher has firmly established the intent and purpose of that exercise for a given student’s vocal needs/development/growth.” And the more specific your goal is, the more likely we are to come up with targeted exercises for that goal. 

That being said, don’t discount your own intuition. Often, it’s not the particular pattern of notes that make an exercise well-suited for a certain purpose. Rather, it’s the intention you bring to performing the exercise. When you are clear as to what you are working on, a variety of exercises can help you improve in that area. So don’t be afraid to experiment on your own and see what may come of it. Even if it doesn’t lead to the success you’re hoping for, it will continue to inform you about your own voice and how it works. 

The opposite of resolve (choosing specific exercises to build specific skills) is mindless vocalizing. Maybe that means singing through a list of “warm-ups” without a clear idea of what each exercise might be intended to accomplish. Or maybe it’s running through your songs from start to finish without any particular game plan in mind. Voice professor Lynn Helding calls this “roadkill practice” (“I ran over my music.”). As I’ve mentioned, this can help reinforce certain habits, but it is not a way to build skill or explore new creative options. 

Consider starting each practice session this week with a particular goal. Work on that for 5 to 10 minutes. Switch to a different goal and work on that. If you need ideas for what exercises might facilitate this work, I’m here to help. 

Find your resolve. Then resolve on a plan. 

Now go practice. 

Resolve, Part 1

Welcome to the new school year! Here we go...

Let me state something obvious: If you want to improve your skills, you have to practice. It doesn't matter if the skill you want to improve is yoga, archery, skateboarding, or singing—a crucial element is consistent, quality practice. 

Quality practice, however, can be difficult to accomplish. This first obstacle is just motivating ourselves to do it. The second obstacle is knowing how to practice in a way that will actually lead to results. Authors Janice L. Chapman, Ron Morris, and James Platt refer to practice as “The Dreaded ‘P’ Word” in their book Singing and Teaching Singing: A Holistic Approach to Classical Voice (Plural Publishing, 2023). They point out that both student and professional singers can be confused about how to practice, which often leads them to avoid it entirely. In Practicing for Singers: A Guide to Solid Practice Habits, author Joanie Brittingham states, “We singers often don’t practice because practice intimidates or frustrates us.”  Because of this, she believes that many singers give up before they are really able to make technical progress, resorting to repeatedly running through their songs, which can just solidify the errors and inefficiencies that already exist. 

To address this, last year I wrote an article for the Journal of Singing called "The Four Rs of Effective Practice: Resolve, Repeat, Refine, Reinforce." This semester, I'm going to examine each of these aspects to see how they might help us find ways to engage in meaningful practice that will help us reach our goals. 

The first "R" of effective practice is "resolve." Since this word can be defined a couple of different ways,  I'll focus on the first definition for now. As I blogged last January, according to Dictionary.com, when resolve is used as a noun it is defined as "A resolution or determination made, as to follow some course of action; firmness of purpose or intent; determination. Synonyms: decision.” Essentially, the first element of effective practice is that we have to decide/resolve to do it. That may seem like a no-brainer and not that hard to accomplish. But for real progress to occur, we have to resolve to practice regularly and consistently, which can be difficult to commit to when schedules gets busy or when we just don't feel like doing it. 

As stated, resolve also requires determination and firmness of intent. Meaningful practice takes effort and planning (we'll get more into this in the next blog). Therefore, we don't just need to commit to practicing, we have to commit to effortful practicing. This doesn't mean physically effortful, where you engage in excessive tension or muscular hyperfunction. This refers to cognitively challenging practice where you set yourself tasks that are just a bit beyond your capabilities. This sort of practice, where success is perpetually just out of reach, can be frustrating and forces us to dig deep (to find our "resolve"). But this is the sort of practicing that leads to the most beneficial results. There is a reason these tasks are referred to in the motor-learning literature as "desirable difficulties." 

So, as a first plan for the semester, we can resolve to practice regularly and consistently by making a practice schedule and sticking to it. We can also resolve to make practice meaningful by giving ourselves clear goals, challenging tasks to help us build skills (I can help come up with these), and seeing each practice session through. Understanding that these sessions will often be difficult and frustrating, we can resolve to complete them anyway. 

For this first blog of the year, identify some of the goals you have for your singing, whether that's related to sticking to a practice schedule, identifying technical or expressive capabilities you'd like to develop, or any other aspect of your singing that you'd like to see improve this semester. 

Let's have a great year.

Now go practice. 

Try Softer

If you asked random people on the street what "soft" means, they would probably describe things like pillows, stuffed animals, or fluffy kittens—anything that's the opposite of hard, firm, or sharp. If you asked musicians the same question, they might tell you it's the opposite of loud, thinking first of musical dynamics. Of course, both answers are correct. 

English being the funny language that it is, lots of words have multiple meanings when used in different contexts. The opposite of soft (as in "malleable" or "squishy") is hard. And the opposite of hard (as in "difficult") is easy. But we generally don't think of "soft" and "easy" as being synonyms. Maybe we should. 

For instance, if I ask you to sing softer in a lesson, I might be asking you to sing quieter. Or, I could be asking you to sing with less effort. Often, when we think about building vocal technique, our brains and bodies assume we have to do more of something, engage more muscles, or expend more energy. This can sometimes lead to hyperfunction, which can make our singing less efficient. We might get better results by a different version of singing softer, meaning using less effort, releasing unnecessary muscles, and allowing the voice to find more ease and balance. This version of soft singing has nothing to do with forte versus piano. It just means applying a softer effort to avoid overworking. 

This can also apply to the mental and emotional aspects of singing. My wife, Erika, has adopted the phrase "try softer" to remind her co-workers (and herself) to allow themselves some grace, remove the stress from a situation, and work with more intention and focus. We actually thought Erika had made up the phrase, but then we found out there is a book called Try Softer: A Fresh Approach to Move Us out of Anxiety, Stress, and Survival Mode—and into a Life of Connection and Joy. In that book, author Aundi Kolber writes, 

"In a world that preaches a 'try harder' gospel―just keep going, keep hustling, keep pretending we're all fine―we're left exhausted, overwhelmed, anxious, and numb to our lives...It doesn't have to be this way." 

In a Journal of Singing article I wrote, I examined some of the research that highlights how working too hard—like too many hours in a week or too many hours in a day—can negatively impact our health. Besides inducing feelings of fatigue, it can lead to “burnout,” which the World Health Organization (WHO) defines as “feelings of energy depletion or exhaustion; increased mental distance from one’s job, or feelings of negativism or cynicism related to one’s job; and reduced professional efficacy.” 

In addition to these symptoms, fatigue can also cause us to be inattentive and careless. We know that repeated exercise of a muscle can lead to physical fatigue, but one research study found that repeated use of “executive resources” (or cognitive resources that allow people to control their behaviors, desires, and emotions) resulted in a decline in "self-regulatory capacity." This resulted in diminished ability to resist temptation and control impulses, and

increased desire to avoid exerting further effort. In other words, fatigue makes us want to stop trying, so we start to cut corners and look for the easy way out. 

The end of the semester is a time when fatigue and burnout may start to take their toll. We may feel diminished capacity and want to just stop trying. That's certainly understandable. However, maybe we don't need to stop trying altogether. Maybe we can just try softer. 

Learning to sing at a professional level is difficult. There are many skills to develop, which require an investment of your time, effort, and resources. Life is also difficult. It requires resiliency, learning from mistakes, and being willing to just keep trying. But no one benefits from exhaustion or burnout. Finding ways to try softer may allow us opportunities to be gentle with ourselves while still being tenacious in the pursuit of our goals. 

The end of the semester is also a good time for self-reflection. I'd encourage you all to think about the ways you have grown over the course of the school year. My vantage point has allowed me to witness the many significant strides you all have made this year, which is deeply gratifying to me. It also helps me refine my ideas about the next steps we can continue to take. 

I certainly engage in self-reflection at this time of year, as well. I am always thinking about how I can be (or could have been) a better teacher to all of you, but especially so when looking back on a school year (or a college career—NATE!) that has wrapped up. One balance I am always trying to strike is knowing when and how much I can challenge each of you while still being a soft place to land when you just need encouragement or a cheerleader as you work toward your dreams. 

In Waitress, Jenna sings, "A dream needs believing to taste like the real thing...But dreams are elusive...Dreams come and they go...But hold them and keep them, and know that you need them. When your breaking point's all that you have, a dream is a soft place to land." 

It's one of the great honors of my life to be your teacher and to, hopefully, help make your dreams a bit less elusive. As you continue to "hold them and keep them," give yourself permission to try a bit softer sometimes. 

Much love,

-brian

How Does Feedback Make You Feel?

A key component of developing singing skills is receiving and implementing useful feedback. As I have blogged about previously, there are two primary forms of feedback: augmented and inherent. Augmented feedback comes from an external source, like the instructions your voice teacher gives you. Inherent feedback is the feedback you provide yourself based on the things you notice when you're singing—what you see, hear, and feel. 

In our voice lessons, you receive both kinds of feedback. When I ask questions like, "How was that?" or "What did you notice?" I am asking you to self-assess and provide yourself with some inherent feedback. When I offer my own suggestions, adjustments, or tactics to try, that is augmented feedback. 

When you are by yourself in the practice room, the only feedback you have to rely on is inherent. Obviously, while you have 24/7 access to your own voice, you only have access to a teacher's augmented feedback for the limited amount of class or lesson time you have each week. Therefore, a primary goal of voice training is to help you develop the ability to give yourself quality inherent feedback. 

There is a lot written about feedback in the motor learning literature (which we discuss at length in vocal pedagogy class). Research studies have examined different aspects of feedback and how they impact our ability to learn, including how much feedback to give, when to give it, and whether feedback should focus on negative or positive results. 

I recently read about a different aspect of feedback in a Journal of Singing article by Professor Lynn Helding. Citing a 2015 article by Telio, Ajjawi, and Regehr, she notes an increasing amount of evidence that points to how our satisfaction with any feedback we receive is often linked to the emotional impact that feedback has on us. As Helding states, "The receiver may care more about the way the feedback makes them feel rather than the quality of the feedback's content." Therefore, if an effective suggestion makes us feel bad, we may rate it as less valid feedback than a less-effective suggestion that makes us feel good. 

Have you ever experienced that? Maybe someone made a valid suggestion but did it in a way that shamed you, embarrassed you, or made you feel "less than." Or maybe someone gave you a suggestion you didn't ask for, sharing an opinion that wasn't welcome. As a result, we usually reject these forms of augmented feedback and look for other solutions instead. I've certainly discarded potentially good advice in my life because I didn't like how (or from whom) it was given. 

As your teacher, I try to be mindful about how I'm delivering my augmented feedback, anticipating how my comments might land with each of you. Admittedly, since I'm a perpetual work in progress, I'm better about that in some instances than I am in others. But I'm always aware that my choice of words or my tone of voice can significantly impact whether or not a suggestion is well received. I would hate for any of you to reject potentially helpful instruction because I was clumsy or insensitive in the way I stated it. 

Now think about the inherent feedback you give yourself. How mindful are you about how you give it? 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? Do you blame yourself for not already being better and discourage yourself from further exploring and enjoying your own voice? 

If the feedback you give yourself was coming from someone else, would you accept it or reject it because of how it made you feel? 

How might you adjust your inherent feedback as you prepare for your final performances of the semester?

Now go practice. 

Sing the Process, Part III

OK, one more installment on this theme... 

As I mentioned in Sing the Process, Part I, performances are snapshots in time, reflecting all we have to give in a specific moment, which eventually will grow, evolve, and change. Because of this, our performances will always be different, making a single "perfect" performance unachievable. So, we should focus more on the process of providing audiences unique experiences rather than perfect performances that will be locked away in a museum for all time. 

The one exception, as I described in Sing the Process, Part II, is when a performance is recorded. In that case, audiences across generations can view the same piece exactly as it was. With different viewings, however, audiences may still have different takeaways from the same piece, as I experienced when I watched the same version of Sunday in the Park with George years apart. 

Here's one more thing to consider. When a theatrical production is filmed, you could argue that it is no longer theatre. Since it can only be viewed on a screen, it's as if it becomes film instead of theatre. And the differences between the genres are significant. 

When I'm watching theatre, I get to decide where to look and where to place my focus. Where my attention is drawn is impacted by where I am sitting in the theatre. When I'm closer to the stage, I'm more likely to focus on the action that is happening directly in front of me. When I'm sitting farther back, I'm more likely to take in the full stage. 

But when a performance is filmed, the director and editor choose which camera shot to use at each particular moment. During ensemble numbers, they are more likely to use a wide frame where more of the stage is in the screen. During solo numbers or duets, they are more likely to zoom in on just the actors who are singing. So, instead of getting to choose where to place my attention, the film director and editor are deciding where they think I should be placing my attention. That's why you could argue that a filmed theatrical production is more of a film than it is a theatrical work. 

The actors also give different performances in film than in theatre. Speech, inflection, and gesture are all much bigger in theatre so that the people sitting in the back of the house can understand each actor's expressive choices. On film, the acting is more conversational since there is no need to project for a larger space. Zoomed-in camera angles mean that gestures and facial expressions can be much smaller, more like they are in real life. In theatre productions, some of those subtleties would never be detected by audiences—even by those sitting in the front row. 

I did some reading about the video of Sunday in the Park with George that I watched and it turns out it was filmed over five days. That means that pieces of multiple performances were edited together to create the version that I watched. So, in reality, no one in the audience saw the start-to-finish show that ultimately became the recorded product because it was spliced together from multiple performances. 

Essentially, then, recorded theatre isn't really film (because the actors are making "theatrical" choices) and it isn't really theatre (because there is a film editor deciding where you can place your focus). It suddenly becomes a strange hybrid of genres—not really enough of one or the other. Something like the Wicked movie is clearly film, which allows the creators to do lots of different things with the material than audiences would experience when attending a staged version of Wicked. But the Sunday in the Park with George that I watched is sort of caught in between—it's both and neither. 

So, what does all this have to do with "Sing the Process"? In film, you get multiple takes that a director will choose from and splice together to tell the story. In theatre, you get one shot to create a unique experience—once again, a snapshot in time—that everyone in the room will only experience in that way one time. Therefore, we don't need to be perfect. We need to be committed and engaging. We get to tell a complete, unique story each night. All we can do is sing the process. 

Lastly, I heard an NPR story earlier this year that included interviews with people who had attended Taylor Swift concerts. These fans had recorded videos on their phones during the concert so they could relive certain moments after the fact. Oddly enough, though, when they went back to watch those videos, they had no specific recollections of those moments. They knew that they had a great time at the concert, and they remember what they felt, but they didn't remember any specific details from the times when they were recording. 

Now, you could respond to this and say, "I guess the details of my performance don't really matter all that much, then, since no one will remember them." I would argue the opposite: It is the details of your performance that create the product that instills the feelings that are remembered. Audiences may not remember (or may misremember) the specifics of your performance, but they will remember the way your detailed work made them feel. 

How might it change your approach to performances if your overriding goal was to tell a story that inspires great feeling, rather than trying to nail every high note or perfectly execute every difficult passage? 

Do you need to make any adjustments to your practice routine so you can make the most of this last half of the semester (and last quarter of the school year)? 

Now go practice.