Great light

I was having a conversation with a student recently about plateaus. This student was remembering a previous blog in which I had discussed the plateaus we experience in our vocal training where it feels like we can go for an extended time without making any progress. These are inevitable periods that everyone goes through—no one's trajectory is only forward. It's also worth noting that a plateau can actually be a form of progress, because we are solidifying our status on higher ground (at a higher skill level) than we used to be. 

This idea reminds me of an experience I had last summer when I was out on a hike. While trekking toward a peak in the Wasatch range, I looked across the valley and saw how the clouds were casting a shadow on a significant section of the opposite ridge (picture below). From my vantage point, I could see that most of the mountain was in sunlight. But I remember thinking that any hikers who happened to be in the middle of the shadowed section probably wouldn't be able to tell how much longer they would be in that darkness before they would be back in the sun. 

This time of year, it is a tradition for musical ensembles to program performances of Handel's Messiah, the great oratorio for symphony, chorus, and vocal soloists. One of the arias for bass soloist is assigned the text, "The people that walked in darkness." At the start of the piece, the vocal line meanders, winding around in chromatic eighth notes before landing on a low F2. It's as though the melody itself is searching for a way out of darkness only to be plunged into the depths. 

As the aria continues, however, the chromaticism starts to dissipate and the melody ascends to a sustained high D4 (the tonic of the key) on the phrase "have seen a great light." 

It feels a lot like a hiker working through the muddled darkness of a shadowy ridge only to emerge onto a sunlit peak. In the picture below, you can see that the entire last stretch of the hike toward the peak on the left is in the shadows. As most mountain hikers know, the last stretch before a peak is often the most difficult. It is usually the steepest part of the hike and can involve scrambling up loose rocks that have less-secure footing than the lower sections of the trail. Add darkness to the mix and all of these factors could make any hiker want to turn around and head back down the mountain, right when they are closer than ever to the peak. 

The end of the semester is also a peak, of sorts. Even if it doesn't necessarily feel like you are reaching a monumental finish, it does represent the end of a long, sometimes meandering hike. When we are amid the difficulties and darkness of a semester (or a degree program, or a career), it's tough to know how long we will have to endure before we reach the light. And when we are on drawn-out journeys, the longer we trudge, the more arduous it can become. But that could also mean that the peak, and the light, are just a few more steps away. 

Keep hiking. 

I'm grateful for the semester we have spent together. Once we finish, I hope you will all look back at how far we've come and take a bit of time to enjoy the view. 

Happy Holidays. 

-brian

 

Get out of the way

"Condition the voice, and then get out of its way." -Kate DeVore

I was recently going through some notes and came across the above quote by Chicago-based acting voice coach Kate DeVore. She is a regular faculty member at the U's Summer Vocology Institute, so I think it was something I wrote down during her lecture this past summer. 

I think the most obvious interpretation of this quote is that we should build our technique in the practice room so we don't have to think about our technique during performances. Once on stage, we should get out of the way and just focus on storytelling. 

A second interpretation is that, after we condition the voice, we should get out of our heads. Anxiety, insecurity, and self-consciousness are all obstacles to free vocal expression. Sometimes, we might need to get out of our own way and trust that our voices will follow. 

As a voice teacher, however, this quote hits a little differently. When working with singers, it's sometimes hard for me to know when I should step in and when I should just stay out of the way. "Condition the voice," as Kate says. That's my job, to help you all condition your voices so they are better equipped to do what you want them to do. But there is an unfortunate tendency in voice teaching to homogenize the singers we work with. If teachers have an '"ideal" sound in mind that they feel every student should aspire to, that might mean that everyone will start to display the same timbre, sing with the same style, and make similar interpretive choices. In other words, we can "condition the voice" so much that we condition singers' originality and uniqueness right out of them. 

I know I'm guilty of inserting my preferences and opinions at times in the voice studio when I should probably be staying out of the way and allowing students to have more agency in deciding what choices they would like to make with their voices. In previous generations of voice teaching, students were often only allowed to exercise creativity from within the bounds of pre-approved options that the teachers laid out. Students who insisted too vehemently on adhering to their own ideas were seen as defiant or as questioning the authority or expertise of the teacher. Thankfully, we're trending away from that. Even so, I still find myself defaulting back to that approach once in a while. 

As we get closer to the end-of-semester performances, I hope you will all honor your own ideas. Obviously, you should consider the perspectives of your teachers and practice lots of different sounds and interpretive options. But once you get to performance, you are the ones center stage. 

In these last few weeks, how can you work to honor your unique voices and choices in the songs you are presenting? 

Now go practice. 

What you want vs. What you need

If you were a high school theatre student in Utah, it's likely that you attended the Utah Theatre Association conference. This is an annual event designed to give high school theatre students and teachers the opportunity to see performances, attend lectures and workshops, and just geek out together about theatre. It's a huge gathering that attracts thousands of students from all across the state. Considering that they're all teenagers, and they're all theatre kids, there is always a lot of energy at the conference. And a lot of noise. And several students wearing age-inappropriate hats, like a sophomore rocking a fedora because he decided that's his "thing" this year. (You do you, dude.)

I go to the conference almost every year to present workshops, usually on musical theatre singing. I always leave room for Q&A and often end up sticking around after my sessions to answer additional questions, which I always find encouraging since it shows me just how much the students want to know about this subject. 

One year, an enthusiastic young student said to me, "I really, really want to be great at belting. What's the best way to get an amazing belt sound?" I told her, "Well, there are a number of exercises you can use to really target your belt voice." She nodded her head eagerly. "But," I continued, "you should also train your head voice, which will help build your full vocal instrument, which will also strengthen your belt singing." She seemed less enthusiastic to hear that second part. 

There is often a disconnect in life between what we want and want we need. It's no wonder Aretha Franklin separated the two when she sang, "What you want, baby, I got it. What you need, do you know I got it?" Even the Queen of Soul knew there was a difference. 

Sometimes we may want something, but when we find out what is needed to obtain it, we may reconsider and decide it's not worth it, after all. Case in point, in The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, the character Lord Henry Wotton says, “To get back my youth, I would do anything in the world, except take exercise, get up early, or be respectable.” In a previous blog turned article, I discussed the difference between "wishes and dreams" (i.e., things we'd like to accomplish but don't take any tangible steps to achieve) and "goals and plans" (i.e., things we are actively and systematically working to achieve). 

Famed operatic mezzo-soprano Jamie Barton, whom the New York Times dubbed "opera's nose-studded rock star," was not always motivated to achieve the high levels of performance that she has seen in her career. Her college voice professor, Dr. Brian Horne, said as much in an interview with Classical Singer. 

"[Jamie] herself would admit that I had to sit her down on a couple occasions to remind her that she would need to work harder if she wanted to have some chance of success,” he says. “More or less, I told her that I couldn't guarantee that she would succeed if she gave it everything she had, but I could guarantee that she wouldn't succeed if she didn't give everything she had."

At that point, she wanted to succeed, but she wasn't doing what she needed to find that success. Based on her 2023-2024 performance schedule (Houston, Valencia, Paris, Chicago, Munich), she has clearly righted the ship. 

What do you want from your singing? What do you think you need to do to get that? Lastly, and most importantly, are you willing to consistently and systematically do what you need to do to get what you want (not just when it's convenient or when it's easy)? 

Now go practice. 

Like you've never been...

A few years ago, I wrote a blog describing my qualms with the phrase "Sing like no one is listening." You've probably heard some variation of the quote, which is usually along the lines of “You've gotta dance like there's nobody watching, love like you'll never be hurt, sing like there's nobody listening, and live like it's heaven on earth.” 

I appreciate the sentiment. Probably all of us have been unkindly judged for our singing at some point in our lives. If the idea of singing like no one is listening really means sing as though no one is judging you, I can get on board with that. 

But, as someone who has worked hard to put together thought-out performances based on intentional expressive choices, why would I not want anyone to listen? What was all of that time and effort for? As I said in the blog, "sing like no one is listening" can seem to imply that what I have to say is not worth anyone hearing. If that's true then what's the point? 

Recently, I came across another take on this famous quote from author and voice pedagogue Cynthia Vaughn: 

Sing like you've never been shushed. That's worth repeating. 

Think of all the ways you've been silenced in your life. Consider all the times you have been made to feel that your voice was not worth hearing, your ideas not welcome in the room, your perspectives not valued. 

When people criticize our singing, they may feel like they're just being cute or just teasing in a light-hearted manner. Maybe they're just echoing some of the things people have said to them. But when we hear those comments, it usually doesn't feel light-hearted or flippant. It feels personal. It's as though they are criticizing us, not just our voices. 

Students often ask me what the best way is to overcome nerves when performing. There is no easy answer since people experience various degrees of performance anxiety for any number of reasons. However, I believe that at least some of our anxiety is due to the fact that we have had negative thoughts about others we have heard sing. Perhaps we are at least a little bit afraid that people will think the same things about us that we have thought about others. 

The cure? Extend the same grace to others that we would want extended to us. As an audience member, are you quick to criticize or quick to compliment? Are you drawn to someone's successes or their failures? Do you secretly hope that someone's performance is lesser so that you can feel greater about your own abilities? If so, it's no wonder you are anxious to perform. 

The good news is that we can train ourselves to see the positive just by intentionally choosing to do so. I would much rather see a performance that is sincere, committed, and enthusiastic—even if it is less than pitch perfect—than one that is made up of perfectly balanced and resonant tones but half-heartedly communicated. 

Of course, there is nothing wrong with noticing inefficiencies in someone else's performances or taking note of areas you feel can be improved. As artists in training, that's an important skill to develop. But cognitive research indicates that the more effective pedagogic path is to build upon someone's strengths with positive feedback than to point out someone's perceived flaws with no instruction toward improvement. 

So, how do you sing as though you've never been shushed? Don't be a person who shushes others. 

How has your singing been this week? Now that we're in the second half of the semester, what goals do you have for the rest of the term? 

Now go practice. 

Use it or lose it

One of the scholars who is frequently cited in articles that promote how everyone should sing is the late Professor Stephen Demorest of Northwestern University. He has conducted some of the most prominent research studies demonstrating how singing is a learnable skill and is not as dependent on "talent" as we are often led to believe. Importantly, his research also highlights how singing skills take practice to maintain (just like speaking a second language, doing a backflip, etc.) or we risk succumbing to the "use it or lose it" phenomenon. 

The pertinent research was published in the journal Music Perception, and is summarized in an article in the Northwestern News. In the study, investigators compared the singing accuracy of kindergarteners, sixth graders, and college students. They found there was significant improvement in students' skills from kindergarten to sixth grade, which—go figure—is when most students are getting some sort of consistent music instruction in school. From sixth grade to college, however, students regressed in their abilities and were only singing as accurately as the kindergarteners in the study. 

As the article describes, the years between sixth grade and the end of high school (when their singing abilities started to decline) are when most children experience voice changes due to puberty (it doesn't receive as much attention, but it's worth noting that children who experience an estrogen-dominant puberty, as opposed to a testosterone-dominant puberty, also experience significant voice changes during those years). I suspect the vocal instabilities of adolescence and the heightened self-consciousness that coincides with that time of life cause many students to stop singing around that time—or at least to stop singing in front of others. 

Of course, a lot of students that age simply choose to focus their energies in other areas, since those are also the years when they start filling their schedules with sports, AP classes, and other activities that place demands on their time. The arts, music, and singing often get left behind. As Demorest points out in the article, by eighth grade, only 34% of children in the United States participate in elective music instruction, and that number declines even more by the time students reach high school graduation.

I think we all understand that if someone trains as a figure skater from kindergarten through sixth grade, and then stops, that person will not be as good a skater by the time they get to college. Logically, this applies to singing, as well. 

Of course, the other noteworthy results that come out of Demorest's research is how it highlights the psychological baggage we bring to singing that we don't bring into other activities. As mentioned in the article, children who have been told that they can’t sing are less likely to engage with music throughout life. Many of them carry painful memories—like being called "tone deaf"—well into adulthood. 

As Demorest states, “Everyone should be able to have music as a part of their life. It’s OK to select out of it, but it should be by choice, rather than because you think you don’t have ‘talent.' And if at any point in life you decide to become more engaged, you can be...When people are unsuccessful [at singing] they take it very personally, but we think if you sing more, you’ll get better.”

One way Demorest suggests people can continue to use their voices regularly is to have low-stakes opportunities in music that don’t require the commitment of time that playing in a band or an orchestra does. “People need a place to sing and have fun without worrying about how good they are,” he said. 

I would argue that even those of us who have professional aspirations as vocalists need these sorts of low-stakes opportunities to sing. Focused practice is obviously crucial for building specific skills, but recreational singing, or just jamming out with friends, is also allowed to be part of your vocal exercise (actually, it's encouraged). 

How has your practice been this week? Do you need more low-stakes opportunities to sing with others? How can you add that to your life? 

Now go practice. 

Magic To Do

"We've got magic to do, just for you. We've got miracle plays to play. We've got parts to perform, hearts to warm, kings and things to take by storm, as we go along our way." 

—Leading Player, "Magic To Do," Pippin

Who doesn't love the magic of theatre? The world of the imagination, the suspension of disbelief, the communication of triumph and tragedy through words, music, lights, costumes, and sets. Anyone who has had a transformative experience through theatre will likely have a difficult time expressing the power of that experience through words. There are some words, however, that may be particularly inadequate or—in the opinion of at least one music professional—inaccurate. 

Nova Thomas is a singer and Professor of Voice at Rice University's Shephard School of Music, as well as Teaching-Artist at opera companies across the country (including the Utah Opera). In the foreword to the book we discussed last week (The Vocal Coach Approach: When Practice Makes Perfect by Susan Shiplett Ashbaker), Thomas talks about the potential problems with using the term "magic" to refer to musical performances. 

"Extraordinary performances are often described as 'magical.' Indeed, that is probably the most accurate description for those transporting experiences that defy the confines of language; but the nomenclature, however flattering, presents a dilemma for those who endeavor to become the delivery systems for making that kind of art. If 'magical' is the result, then one might assume that the process is mystical, mysterious, or (even less helpful) just the result of a huge talent, or some ever elusive 'it' factor. In truth, the 'magic' we all seek is the result of work that has been enormously methodical...The kind of 'magic' we all seek requires an egoless, humble, specific, and ordered process." (p.x)

I find a similar issue when performers are told that their performances seemed effortless. Just like the word "magic," such phrases seem to dismiss the years of work that performers spend honing their craft, often at great sacrifice (and expense!). As we know from the stages of motor learning, it often takes years of slogging through the early stages of learning, applying effort, enduring failed attempts, and taking the necessary slow steps toward progress before we reach the automatic stage of performance. Comments like those above almost imply that anyone is capable of successful, professional-level performances if they are naturally gifted enough or if they are somehow chosen by some mystical muse who will then use them as the empty vessel through whom they will express profound musical ideas. 

I would think these type of comments can be especially irksome for those who do not feel particularly naturally gifted or who did not have the advantage of early musical training. When someone who has built their abilities, seemingly from square one, is told that their performances are the result of anything other than a lifetime of dedication, it can feel as if all of that effort is devalued. 

Of course, we sometimes do give performances that feel uniquely inspired. A handful of times, I came away from a performance feeling as though everything aligned perfectly, as it never had before. Nevertheless, even in those moments I had to acknowledge that it was only through consistent work and dedication that I was even in a place where that mysterious inspiration could come in and add that last bit of spark. There is no "magic" that will suddenly come in and make a half-prepared performance come to life. 

Now, I'm not saying that we should berate audience members who care enough to offer compliments and praise after our performances. Everyone takes something different away from the arts, and I don't believe it's our job to tell people what they should be getting from a performance. (Naturally, education, talkbacks, and other efforts can potentially help people understand performances at a deeper level, but that doesn't mean audience members are wrong in the opinions they form about our performances.) These interactions do, however, provide opportunities for us to help audiences understand the time and effort that does go into the process of creating impactful art. 

Patron 1: "Oh, that performance was just magical!"

Performer 1: "Thank you! It took us a lot of hours of rehearsal to get to that point." 

Patron 2: "It just looks so effortless when you perform!"

Performer 2: "I'm so glad! That's certainly one of my goals when I'm in the practice room every day." 

Instead of following the Leading Player's mantra of, "We've got magic to do," we might borrow from Nova Thomas to come up with a lyric that reflects the truer reality for musical theatre singers: "We've got work to do—enormously methodical, egoless, humble, specific, and ordered work to do." That's probably not as catchy, and it definitely has too many syllables to fit into Stephen Schwartz's melody. But it may also help us get into the practice room and take our success into our own hands instead of waiting around for magic to improve our performances. 

How has your practice been going this week? How successful have you been in establishing a routine and sticking to it? 

Now go practice. 

SMART Practice Sessions

Welcome (back), everyone! We're off and running... 

The first blog of the school year often focuses on how to set meaningful goals (as described here and here). This summer, I was reading a new book called The Vocal Coach Approach: When Practice Makes Perfect by Susan Shiplett Ashbaker, and came across a chapter called "Setting and Achieving Daily Goals." I was excited to read it, thinking I might learn something new about setting goals that I could pass along to all of you. But, as I worked my way through the chapter, I realized that Ashbaker's points (which are excellent) weren't really revolutionary or all that new. We've known for a long time what effective strategies are for setting goals. We just have to take the time to review the principles, be thoughtful about setting meaningful goals, and then be diligent enough to follow through. 

Here is one of Ashbaker's suggestions: "Look at your calendar. Be specific about what time you will begin your practice each day of the week, and what time you plan to finish your practice. Too often, 'I'll practice later this afternoon,' ends poorly when, at 8:00 pm, you realize that you haven't yet practiced." Longtime members of the Manternach Teaching Experience should recognize this from the PRACTICE SCHEDULE section of our syllabus, which reads "Enter [your] practice times in your weekly calendar and treat them as you would a class or rehearsal. Do not allow them to become optional; make them part of your daily routine. Otherwise, it is too easy to put off your practice time or only do it when you feel like it. Art is creative, art is expressive, but practice is a discipline."

Ashbaker also reminds us: "If you write [your goals] down, you are more likely to hold yourself accountable...Keeping a practice journal is a good, tangible way to help keep you on track." This is also emphasized by author and professor Lynn Helding, who states that effective goals should be written down (not just kept in mind). Don't assume that you will remember what your goals are from day to day and week to week. Write them down so you can reference them at each practice session. 

Ashbaker also offers strategies for accountability in your practice routines. She writes, "If you have a close friend who is a singer, perhaps you can help hold each other accountable by sharing practice goals for the day as well as achievements." This strategy is backed up by a number of research studies. As I wrote earlier this year in an article for the Journal of Singing, "In clinical settings, patients who had a social support system were more likely to follow through with rehabilitation and health maintenance. Therefore, students may...make themselves accountable to someone (besides their teacher) who is invested in their progress. Perhaps it could be a friend or family member who has always encouraged their musical pursuits. Maybe other musicians with whom they collaborate could be recruited, given their mutual goal of making their shared performances as successful as possible. Maybe studiomates could pair off to be 'practice accountability buddies,' in order to check in with each other to make sure their partners are staying disciplined in their practice."

Lastly, Ashbaker provides a useful acronym to guide practice sessions: "Make your practice schedule SMART: Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Realistic, Timely." You may ask yourself some targeted questions to see if your practice is SMART. 

Specific: Am I just mindlessly going through a bunch of vocal exercises and "running over" my music or do I have a goal in mind of what I'm trying to accomplish? 

Measurable: How will I know when I have made an improvement? What is the thing that I'm not able to do that I'm trying to do? 

Attainable: Is this goal something that is in my short-term achievable range or is it more of a long-term goal (your teacher can help you determine this)? 

Realistic: Am I comparing my singing to people on studio-produced Broadway cast recordings? Are my goals appropriate based on my current skill level? 

Timely: Am I working consistently on specific skills? Do I work on implementing new instruction right away? 

For this first blog of the school year, I'd like for you all to share a couple of goals you have for the semester. Then share a tactic you will use to hold yourself accountable to the practice that will lead you to your goals. 

Let's have a great year!

Now go practice.