Blogging Hiatus

Please read today's post on my Meta blog, which explains my recent absence from these pages.

Auditioning for the Opera

Today I’m sending you to my Life Stage blog for an audition story.

Sing Every Day

It’s okay to sing every day.

It's okay not to sing every day.

Open Your Mouth

Most vocal problems come down to the singer not opening the throat, and usually this means the singer is not opening the mouth.

Open your mouth and sing.

How It All Began (for Me)

I was a dutiful child. I used to hum along to the vacuum cleaner as I did my chores, singing Silent Night to its susurrus accompaniment. I sang in falsetto, because it was accessible. I didn’t think falsetto was a voice, that I was actually singing. It was just an easy sound to make, so I made it.

My mother stopped me in my tracks—I thought something was wrong. She made me sing, sans vacuum. She asked me where I’d learned to sing like that. I told her nowhere, it was just sounds. She told me it was beautiful, that it was singing, and I should do more of it. So I sang every Christmas carol I knew in this light, unfamiliar voice. It made her very happy.

I will never know if I would have become a singer if it wasn’t that my mother insisted to me that falsetto was beautiful.

A Written Record

I refer you to the same advice I gave today on Guitar Bliss, my blog about guitar music.

Practice, Practice, Practice

I’m sending you over to Guitar Bliss, because what I have to say about practice applies to all instruments.

"I Am"

Today I had a conversation with playwright John Green, who had a reading of his play (work-in-progress) “I Am” at Chicago Dramatists. The central character of the piece is a woman who has been implanted with memories of her mother, an opera singer. I told John that I found it fascinating that such a creature would dream of singing handily, but when it came to it, might not be able to carry a tune.

In a previous post, I encouraged you to sing. In this one, I remind us all that the finest singing voices are at least in some measure wonderful accidents of nature, commonly referred to as “gifts.”

Not gifted? Sing anyway.

Tenor Envy

When I was young I envied tenors I knew personally who had pure high notes they achieved with ease. The high notes were always difficult for me when I was young, and no style of training made them possible for some years. I believe a tenor’s voice must mature to reach the highest notes, and if some have them early and others must wait, it’s just Nature’s way.

Every Day

I wish I sang every day. Perhaps I do. I did, have, at times in my life. Singing purges me—sorry, that might sound a bit gross, but it’s apt.

Singing is cleansing.

The Lone Ranger

Long ago, I performed at a lavish corporate party as the Lone Ranger, mask, guns and all. I worked hard at my Clayton Moore imitation, and was proud of how I captured his essence—the walk, the eyes behind the mask, and most of all, of course, his wonderful voice.

I don’t naturally sound much like him, however, and the vocal technique I used was decidedly unnatural. When I worked the gig, the din of the room threatened to render my vocal preparations irrelevant. I valiantly shouted my forced Masked Man sounds, and when it was over I had no voice at all. I couldn’t speak, I had traumatic laryngitis.

There are no guarantees in life where your health is concerned. It was reasonable to suppose I’d recover, but how could I be certain? I could only wait, in silence, unable to speak, unable to sing.
I recovered my speaking voice within a few weeks, and within a month or two my singing voice was back, 100%.

We each have a unique voice, and the voice knows the song it makes. You may train your voice, you may imitate other voices, but always your song is there, unique, ready to sound-off. It’s remarkable how insistent your song is, how persistent.

Sing something.

Mahalia

I was viewing YouTube videos of Mahalia Jackson. I just wanted to hear her sing again. I had an album of hers when I was a boy and always thought she was amazing. I’m white and middle-class, and I was a boy in the 50s. How did I know she even existed? I must have seen her on a TV show, or perhaps heard her on the radio.

My mother once tried to get me to meet her. Being my mother, she wanted me to sing for Mahalia. I was embarrassed, and have no idea if mom could have actually arranged that meeting, but it’s something I remember and value, the importance of music, especially music in the service of the highest of human aspirations.

I always was under the impression that Mahalia was very strict regarding what she would and would not sing, simply that she only sang sacred music. Imagine my surprise to find this video, which is wonderful and amazing in several ways, and not only to do with Mahalia’s glorious voice.

Enjoy:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CPBVaRpNEgE&feature=related