Phoenix rising

Singers need to have a set of ears , knowledgeable ears, listening to them throughout their careers in order to keep themselves on the straight and narrow technically and musically. It is so easy in a busy career of performing and teaching gradually to find oneself in a rut that one has dug without realising that that was what was happening. Once one is in that situation, it is hard to dig one's way out without some help. It is also difficult at certain times in one's life to admit to oneself that there is a problem. When is a problem not a problem?


The wise singer makes the decision to damn the torpedoes, find someone who can help them rediscover what they have lost, and go full speed ahead.

One of my students did that about a year ago. She began studying with me on a regular basis after years without a teacher. She had built herself a lovely rut in which she was fairly comfortable, but in which she was not really satisfied with the way she was singing. She told me that often, while demonstrating for a student in a lesson, her voice would crack. She thought 'What's going on here?' This is the type of insidious trap one can fall into. Nothing is so bad that it seems to need fixing, but then, nothing is really working.


Very gradually, over this year-long period, we examined the various problems she was experiencing and tried to correct them. This is not an easy thing to do. When one has been singing a certain way for a long time, even if it is not very comfortable, that way has become a safe place in which to sing because you know exactly what will happen when you go there and can depend on that knowledge. It may not be a very good safe place, it probably isn't a safe place at all, it may not be very comfortable or sound very good, but it's your safe place. So there! Damn it!

After a year of intense work together, we both agreed that the thing that solved the cracking problem was changing her breathing pattern. This has to be at the base of every singer's technique. Read Sing On! Sing On! if you haven't already done so. I cover this subject thoroughly. The correct use of the breath in singing seems so obvious that many people seem to think it just happens. With some people, it does. They just have always breathed deeply. Olga Averino used to call some of these people 'Natural Singers'. They could just always do it.


A dear friend, neighbor, and sometimes student of mine,Ben Luxon, is such a singer. He just always could sing. And wonderfully well! His international career took him from Covent Garden to La Scala to the Met. Benjamin Britten wrote Owen Wingrave for him! When he came to me to see if I could help him when he was losing his hearing and was having trouble with pitch, I thought that I would begin by having him match pitches with me to see what was happening. I said to him, 'Ben, how do you usually warm up?'. He answered, 'I don't warm up, I just SING!' This is what a 'Natural Singer' is all about. It just happens until something goes wrong. Even with a cochlear implant, which has helped his perception of speech, it has thrown his sense of pitch even further off. He hears pitches a third higher. Obviously, there is no way he can sing in tune with this malady. This is the kind of problem where a voice teacher feels helpless. Here is this magnificent musician with this still incredible voice, slapped down by his own body. On the other hand, he is one of the greatest actors I have ever seen and has added a new dimension to his career. I was moved to tears when I recently saw him perform L'Histoire du Soldat of Stravinsky. And that voice is just as potent when spoken as it ever was when singing! He also recently did some wonderful Shakespeare roles.


I often liken developing a bad vocal habit to ironing the same wrinkle into a garment over and over, even though you don't want a wrinkle in the garment. Eventually it has become 'Permanent Press' without your realising it. And it's tough to iron it out again. It takes hard work, determination, and a lot of swear words to un-wrinkle this. But trust me, it's worth trying.


My student was willing to put in the hard labor that this takes. And she won!


For some reason, don't ask me why, I have always had the ability to hear someone sing for the first time and put my finger on the problem they are having. This is not something I was ever taught. Maybe it can't be taught. Maybe it's like good taste. Olga Averino once said to me, after having taught a Master Class for some of my students as well as for some other singers, 'I can always tell when it's one of your students singing. As soon as you sit at the piano to play for them it's obvious that they will sing well, technically and musically.' And I said to her, 'And as soon as I stand up they don't?' She said, 'You can't teach taste.'


Maybe it's my Italian-Dutch blood (talk about a lethal cocktail!) that has given me this gift, but I seem to be able to do this without half trying. Maybe it's because I think that the most important job of a voice teacher is to listen and respond to what one hears, not to teach from a list of things to do. One size does not fit all! I'm sure I have a mental list of the techniques I want every one of my students to achieve, but I don't always approach them in the same order. At some point I will cover all the essentials but probably not twice in the exact same way.


A critic once said of a performance by Tallulah Bankhead, 'Miss Bankhead, as Shakespeare's Cleopatra, barged down the Nile, covering the range of emotions from A to B'. Too many voice teachers that I have encountered use this rather limited range of ideas in their teaching. They have an A to Z list that everyone must learn in that exact order. That sort of approach has never worked for me, either in my own vocal studies (which have been rich and rare) or in my teaching. Every student comes to a teacher from a different place; from a different experience of life and of study; with different hopes and different aspirations. And with different problems. Sometimes a teacher needs to begin at Q rather than A if that is what is required in a specific case. I find myself constantly making up new images, vocalises, and psychological tactics to get an idea across to a student. I guess you might say, I teach from the seat of my pants.


Nine times out of ten, breathing will be the first item on any singer's agenda that may need some minor surgery. Even the best of professional singers with whom I have worked, get careless about this most important area of vocal technique. I had a wonderful tenor sing for me once, who was in the midst of a brilliant career, who, when he sang for me the first time, had about four different ways he took the singing breath within the same aria. The sound changed slightly with each variation of inhalation since there is only one kind of singing breath that allows the larynx to relax each time. A relaxed larynx is a wonderful thing to sing through. Consistency is not the Hobgoblin of Tiny Musical Minds; it is the very basis of a good vocal technique.


Often, when one learns to take the same deep, open, lively breath every time, fifteen other problems immediately disappear. Then it is the job of the student, aided by the teacher, to build this new, dependable breathing system into one's permanent vocal technique. Olga also used to say 'We singing teachers are really cheer leaders, revving up our team when they do well as well as becoming the stern football coach when they don't'. It takes time. The mind can accept a new concept and say, 'Hey, what a wonderful idea. I will always breathe like this from now on', but that old Devil, Muscle Memory, rears it's ugly haunches and whispers, 'Sez you!'. There is that wrinkle we ironed into the fabric a while ago!


Well, my student faced down her ogre, Old Habits, did a year of dedicated, meaningful hard work, and came out on top by singing a wonderful concert just recently. Nothing warms the cockles of a teacher's heart more than to see this kind of success achieved by someone one has worked with over time. This is the teacher's reward.


Brava! From your teacher.