Tag Archive for learning

No one has all the answers

Many singers are extremely loyal to their voice teachers and coaches. Many of us in the business search long and hard for people we can trust to be part of our support team. It is only natural when we come to the person who is the best collaborator we have had so far, that we call them the “best” – end of sentence. However, no one person can teach you everything you might want to know for all time, or always give perfect advice. There are always many sources from which to learn, and we need different things at different times.

We find Voice Teacher X and realize that this person is helping us to unlock our voice to a greater extent than ever before. We curse that it took “so long” and that Voice Teachers A through W were so clueless! But we tend to generalize and oversimplify. Maybe without that journey from A to W we never would have gotten to X. Maybe the teacher wasn’t as clueless as the student! Maybe both teacher and student were not yet ripe, or in sync with each other, or speaking the same language. There may be dozens of reasons why one collaboration worked differently from another.

Regarding unhelpful advice I received (Did I really receive such, or was I not ready for it?) from various teachers, if I really think about what may have prompted what they said, it usually makes some sense – now. With almost all of them, the things that they did not explain well or at all, don’t have to subtract from the helpful things they did say. Sometimes a tidbit from one of them only makes sense years later.

I have a team I am very happy with now. I also have had some excellent teachers and coaches in my past. In the big picture, it seems best to thank all the previous people I worked with who helped me to form the path that eventually led to the resources I needed. My teaching career has also caused me to look at my teachers with more kindness and sympathy. Teaching isn’t easy and the teacher-pupil relationship is a two-way street.

Every singer has a unique story of how they learned their craft. There are so many variables that we can never declare that there is one “best” anybody or anything.

 

Oh, so THAT’S what you meant!

In my singing there have been many times where I made progress on an issue and had the thought “oh THAT’S what they meant”. Does that sound familiar? Observers recognized the need for me to do something differently than before, and some gave advice, but sometimes the problem persisted. Then there is a breakthrough, and many of the old comments and advice start to make sense. Then I have to try not to dwell on the thought, “Why didn’t someone say something to me in a way I could understand?”

It is for this reason that I think we need to try to exercise patience with people whose vocabulary about singing is different from ours. Can we possibly try to understand what they are getting at when they are trying to get a voice to “spin” or when they want us to “make more sound but not get louder” or “sing with a more pure vowel”? Although the expressions may not make sense to us, there is usually some kind of validity to their underlying observation, as well as to their advice.

I have had to eat some humble pie many times in voice lessons, coachings, and in receiving comments from colleagues. What seemed like an outlandish or silly comment or suggestion ends up making a lot of sense later, when I have had the time to experiment and try things out, or simply after I have gained more skill. As a student of singing, my knowledge about the voice has always outpaced my actual ability to sing. I think this is a characteristic of many voice teachers. Great ears, an inquisitive and resourceful mind, patience and people skills can make a great voice teacher, but not necessarily a great singer. So I keep studying and coaching, while people study and coach with me, constantly reminded that knowing and doing are not the same, but they should be as connected to each other as possible.

In my teaching, it is sobering to realize that what I think is crystal clear instruction is not so for every student. It is too easy to forget this if we teachers do not continue to study and receive feedback about our own singing.

How long will it take me to sing better?

I get this question fairly often from new students. I tell them an answer that may sound cocksure, but I think it’s realistic. I tell them that after two or three lessons they should be able to tell if my way of teaching has something to offer them and they should be able to notice improvements in the first few weeks, not months or years.

In order to select criteria to use to judge whether you are improving, it is important to be clear about your goals. Since I am a functional teacher who likes to help with technical issues (which are not 100% separable from musical issues, since function is measured by musical tasks), I like to suggest that functional criteria be used, along with some subjective feelings. However, I also respect non-technical goals such as how to learn songs, how to sing more confidently, and how to audition for shows. These are also helped by functional study but the student will have to judge for themselves whether they feel better about what they’re doing.

Some functional criteria – Can your voice do more, and more easily than before? That one sentence sums it up, as far as the technique goes. Are you more comfortable in the extremes of your pitch range, do you have more options about dynamics, can you make clear vowels and form words in a way that works with your singing rather than against it? Does your voice move better? Are you singing in tune? How does it feel to you? Is it easier? Is it pleasurable? Do you feel more confident? Do you like your singing more than you did before? Are you making a type and size of sound that is usable in the genre of music that you sing?

After two or three months with a new teacher, some of these questions should be answered “yes”.

You can’t tell me how to feel

I read excerpts from a book on singing today and I was disturbed by how many times there were phrases like “you should feel as if..” and “the feeling should change from ____ to ____ when you do such and such” and “Imagine that a long thin balloon has been inserted into your mouth and throat. Now imagine that we squeeze it near your teeth so that it bulges at the other end below the base of your tongue…” and “you will feel ____ directly on the vocal folds.” Oh really?

When I am in the moment of teaching a lesson, and I am trying to get a person to do a new vocal behavior, I generally refrain from telling the student what to feel because there is no way that a) we can be guaranteed to have the same feeling and b) even if we agree that we are feeling something identical or similar because we describe it with the same words, it might be the WRONG way for that person to do things in their body, due to everyone’s unique build. Sometimes after an exercise, a student will describe their sensations in their own words, and I might tell them that other people report something similar. But I think it’s important to circle back to whether we came closer to a desired vocal outcome, before we try to reproduce “feelings”. And if we do hit upon something better, we need to remember what pattern of pitch, vowel, intensity, etc. encouraged the change, and see if it is reproduceable.

It is very frustrating to a student who is struggling to be told that they “should be feeling such and such” if they do not or cannot. Without giving alternative tasks to work toward a goal, they are stuck at a dead-end where they either give up on that vocal goal or they force something to happen and pretend to agree with the teacher. I have been in “Emperor’s New Clothes” master classes where everyone claims to hear an improvement that is not there. An intelligent singer who is working on vocal problems will find it frustrating to be in one of these studios where everyone has a certain semantic and imagistic approach (because Teacher said so!) that doesn’t seem to work for them.

Don’t tell me how to feel! Give me something to do!

Conveying "legato" to students

The World English Dictionary defines legato as: “a style of playing [singing] in which no perceptible gaps are left between notes”. Random House says: “smooth and connected; without breaks between the successive tones.” I like the latter definition because it includes “smooth”. It is possible to connect notes that have rather violent boundaries between them. Do the neighbors have an invisible property line between them that they both agree on, or is it a peaceful stream, or is it a cement wall topped with barbed wire?

I feel that some experience with vocal music, however rudimentary, is extremely helpful, maybe even necessary, for a good understanding of legato for all instruments. Let’s focus on a very “smooth” interpretation of legato. Listen to how Beverly Sills, Barbra Streisand, Mel Tormé, Luciano Pavarotti, or k.d. lang sing a phrase, and how the notes and words connect to each other.

Some students can readily hear that expert singers sing smoothly and connected, and that they can’t. How do you begin to do it yourself? Sometimes it’s as easy as my saying, “How about trying it with the words all smushed together like this?” Then I demonstrate, and they’re off and running. But for students who are just starting out, they may need more help. Many students will sing very legato vocalises, but not be able to do it with songs yet.

I usually initiate a two-pronged approach, one starting with text without music moving towards integration, and the other starting with music without text, also moving towards integration.

First I state the problem of “missing legato”, and bring it to their awareness. They have to hear it and be willing to change it. Once they’re on board, I usually start with text.  First, we talk through the text in normal speech. Then, I may have them “talk like a robot”, with the phonation continuing with minimal interruption, in a monotone. Then I introduce rhythm, so that the robot starts talking in the rhythm of the song, nonstop, no breaks except to breathe. Then we sing a phrase or two (adding pitch to our robot voice), and I give lots of verbal reinforcement for improvements in connection between notes. After the typical “that’s weird” observation, I encourage them to go for that all the time. It is paradoxical that the “robot voice” leads to a legato that then sounds like a wonderful sung line, but it works. From there, we can continue to add expressive elements that take it to artistic places.

Secondly, I will go phrase by phrase (not necessarily thru the whole song, a few phrases usually does the trick) on a friendly vowel, and just sing the music with one vowel. I may have them think about an overall emotion for the phrase, and how that might be expressed with the choice of vowel, its volume, and its color, but that’s usually fancy stuff for a little later.

The next substep of the above is as analytical as the “talk like a robot idea” but it’s usually a fun exercise for them – we sing all the vowels of a phrase, without consonants. This is where I emphasize that speech and song are different because we are singing long vowels on particular pitches, while speech has short sounds that are always sliding around in pitch. I may demonstrate a spoken utterance normally, and then without consonants, to show the constantly changing pitch and ephemeral nature of speech compared to song.

From here, I may have them gradually add in a word here and there, while still singing the rest of the phrase as a vocalise. This gradual integration, along with going back and forth between vocalise and sung lyrics, helps to drive the idea of singing legato home.I do not subscribe to the “either you’ve got it or you don’t” school of thought in any skill. Most skills can be learned, and legato singing and “phrasing” are teachable. The fact that some singers do not need to be taught does not mean that it cannot be taught.

When does it "click"?

One of the phenomena that is always interesting as a teacher and a learner is that of the “click” moment. I will try to define the “click” this way: when a concept that has been introduced as a desirable improvement becomes a part of us. Sometimes an instruction will be understood, tried, and incorporated very quickly, and in other cases, it can take a long time.

I will keep it personal for now and talk about myself as a learner.

In my vocal studies, I have found that sometimes I’m slow, and it is of course frustrating. When I habitually do a thing suboptimally, I get instruction in how to fix it, but I may not get it and/or keep it right away. I have so many creative ways to misunderstand or sabotage the simplest things.

I began study with a new singing teacher in the spring of 2009 and our work has included reforming several vowels. He will instruct and demonstrate, have me try it until I can do it, and then off I go, eager to make this thing a new habit. But I go back for the next lesson and I hear the same thing again, and I think “Why couldn’t I fix this?” but some part of me knows that there is a deeper reason for the problem’s continued existence. A case in point is my “Ah” vowel, which inside my head does NOT sound like Ah when it is correct. But when I listen to a recording of myself, it is clear that this thing that feels like an intense “Uh” is indeed “Ah” and furthermore, my previously-used Ah is a shallow, constricted, flat thing that must be replaced.

I think the thing that finally makes it click is different in different cases. Possible click moments:
- When the new way feels good.
- When the new way no longer feels bad.
- When I finally feel safe trusting the new way.
- When I am given a piece of the puzzle that I needed to completely understand the new way, i.e., “I thought I knew what Teacher meant, but no, THIS is what he meant.”
- When I am ready to give up my identity as a singer with this particular problem. (this one seems to be huge for me)
- When I am completely fed up with how things are and am ready for any change, i.e. “What the hell, why not?”
- When I am doing something new for which I have no previous beliefs.

In the case of my stubborn Ah vowel, it wasn’t until the new Ah started feeling good rather than annoying, that I was able to start to habitualize it. I could have fixed it long ago, if I hadn’t judged it as weird or uncomfortable. It’s just a vowel, for Pete’s sake! My own personal guidance is just sensations! Barring actual pain, why could I not accept the new sensations as permanent friends? I don’t know the answer and I may not need to know the answer, but really understanding that there IS a block to deal with is helpful. It is certainly more helpful to recognize a block than to label oneself as stupid, for example.

So in the future, as I recognize the need for new, improved habits, I’m going to try to pay better attention to possible saboteurs of the “click”. It can be an interesting and enjoyable game to learn these things about myself, once I calm down and really look at my thought patterns as I try new things.

“It’s never what you think” An acronym is born!

When practicing, I find it helpful to record snippets and play them back sometimes. They so very often remind me of what one of my wise voice teachers, David Christopher, says: “It’s never what you think”. You think you’ve discovered THE WAY TO SING, and it seems to have worked so brilliantly, then you listen and it sounds awful. I was playing a recording of a voice lesson yesterday and it is ever amazing how the sound I was making at the time was better or worse than I thought. Because I am not quite in love with my own voice except on rare occasions, I am one of those who believes he needs to sing by feel, rather than by sound. For me, most of the sounds in my head are not very pretty, even when I am making pretty sounds! So I need to know when to stop recording/listening back and just continue to cultivate the feel, and trust my ears for non-aesthetic uses, such as whether a sound is louder or softer, or whether my vowel seems clear.

One manifestation of “It’s never what you think” is intonation as it relates to resonance. When I am in my droopy place, I can sing [i][e][a] on (what I believe is) a single pitch and then play it back and plainly hear it drop, both in pitch and in resonance. Then I can repeat that sequence from my “happy vowel place” and it’s all in tune. They both seemed to be in tune at the time, but they weren’t. On a good day, I find this a fascinating phenomenon. On a bad day, I curse the heavens for this warping of reality that results in me sounding like a hack. Another INWYT phenomenon is related to vowel clarity. Sometimes a sequence like [A][a][o] can seem perfectly clear and well-differentiated in my mind, but on playback turns into only two vowels, or peculiar sounds that have no use in Western art song.

Because I am a believer in a functional approach, I try my best to not go for “pretty” sounds. Going for pretty is usually doomed to fail because of INWYT. Oftentimes I will get a nice clear vowel that can move and swell and speak beautifully, and am delighted about how fine it sounds on playback, but I will never get it back if I try to go for the timbre again. I will not get a beautiful “sound” unless I have a clear concept of its functional elements. Vowel, pitch, intensity, rhythm, go!

The way I see it presently, the positive attitude that the singer needs to adopt about the results they’re getting might encompass one or more of these: 1) Be very clear about your intention, and know that the more clear and correct the concept, the better the result. 2) Believe that everything you do is beautiful, so you short circuit the question of the “beauty” of what you do (seems to be helpful for performance mode). 3) Allow yourself to be a combination of slightly stupid and optimistic.

INWYT is the reason why we must have other ears that we trust to help us to improve. When we are in the practice room by ourselves, we must remember that the ears we possess at the time of singing are not the same as the ears we have when we play back the recording. Learning how our monitoring system relates to the sounds we are making is one of the great skills of singing.

The checklist way of singing doesn’t work for me

When I read some of the online forums about singing, and someone asks a technical question, the answers can be overwhelming. Some people give themselves so many things to think about that I can’t imagine how there’s any brain left to deal with the music.

I think that building technique needs to be an iterative process, where a detail is worked on, then brought back to the whole. It can be surprising sometimes how the new skill can affect other areas of singing, and sometimes an adjustment must be made that is quite far-reaching due to something as small as how you form your O vowel.

I used to try to control every part of the singing mechanism as well as I could, but there are too many parts that are interconnected, and as Reid says, if some parts are not under our voluntary control then the whole system needs to be treated as if it is not under our voluntary control, because our tinkering on controllable parts can lead to uncontrollable consequences. If we believe that, then how do we do anything on purpose?

The answer lies in finding out how to elicit reflexive responses. Which concept will elicit the desired response? Is the response more free than it was before? Does it make singing easier? Then keep it! Patterns of vowel, pitch and volume, within a rhythmic framework, are the tools that we can use to build the technique. The freer execution of such patterns will tell us that the body-mind is improving technically. We can observe after the fact what is happening, and perhaps experiment with some of the microbehaviors, but the only thing that will elicit a reflexive, organic response is the correct CONCEPT. There is too much to micromanage if we sing by trying to tick off everything on a long list of technical points.