The other day, I was coaching one of my GCSE students for her final performance. She's singing Memory from Cats by Andrew Lloyd Webber, a standard - and very well known - musical theatre number.
We've been working on this piece for a while. One of the problems with singing musical theatre numbers for a GCSE performance is that the marking criteria require the song to be sung accurately with respect to the published music, but the published music may differ significantly from the best-known recordings. Different editions of the music may also differ musically - I have three copies of Memory, all of which differ in details of rhythm and dynamic markings, all of which have different accompaniments, and one of which is in a different key. The challenge for the teacher is to select an appropriate performing edition and ensure that the student sings accurately in relation to that edition, ignoring everything else. The challenge for the student is to learn the song from the sheet music, rather than by listening to a recording. The trouble with Memory, of course, is that everyone has heard it sung by Elaine Paige (or possibly Barbra Streisand), and it is very hard to airbrush Elaine or Barbra out of your head and learn the music from the dots on the page.
Anyway, my student has succeeded in doing this. At her lesson she sang the rhythms accurately and did all the marked dynamics in the printed edition we are using. But it was boring. I felt she had not really understood what this song is about, and she had not connected with the emotions of the character singing it.
On the face of it, Memory is a nostalgic song about past glories sung by an elderly cat (Grizabella) who is evidently lonely and longing for physical affection. But when my student sang it like that, it didn't work. So I began to wonder if there was more to this song than it appeared.
The key phrase comes in the third verse: "When the dawn comes, tonight will be a memory too, and a new day will begin". I asked my student whether that was a statement of hope or despair. She thought for a minute and then said, "Hope".
I don't think so. You see, Grizabella looks forward to dawn with both fear and longing. The Cats legend is that at dawn, one of the cats will be selected to be taken up to "cat heaven" - what Grizabella earlier in the same verse describes as "a new life". This looks much like death, doesn't it? So Grizabella looks forward to dawn in the hope that she will die - and she both longs for death (because of her belief that it is the gateway to a new life) and fears it. And suddenly we have the key to our character: this disgusting old alley cat with a very nasty nature was adored when she was younger, because of her beauty. Now she no longer has beauty, she doesn't have love either.... and without love there is nothing left to live for, so she longs for death. Dawn may bring hope, but her basic existential position is despair.
So I asked my student to sing the song from a position of despair rather than hope. This is quite advanced emotional expression for a young singer and I wasn't sure she would be able to do it. To my astonishment the song absolutely took off: she sang with commitment and real feeling, and Grizabella's desperate cry for physical contact at the end gave me goosebumps. I really hope she sings it like that in her exam.
The lesson from this is that songs aren't necessarily what they appear to be, and if we don't study the words, the character and the context, we may fail to connect with the real meaning of the song. And if we miss the point ourselves, so will our listeners. This is particularly true in musical theatre and opera, where it is essential that the context of the song and the motivation of the character is understood. When Susan Boyle released her version of "I dreamed a dream", from Les Miserables, I didn't like it - and I still don't. She turned it into a sad personal statement of lost ambition, whereas in the show it is a rage-filled despairing outburst from a dying woman about the abuse and abandonment that has left her destitute.
But it is also true in another genre - the art song. I've been working with students on musical settings of two poems by great English poets: John Ireland's setting of "Spring Sorrow", by Rupert Brooke, and Eric Thiman's setting of "To Daffodils", by Wordsworth. Both of these poems are, on the face of it, about nature: "To Daffodils" containing a vivid description of a swathe of daffodils beside a bay, and "Spring Sorrow" depicting the early signs of spring. But actually, neither poem is really about nature at all.
The key to the Wordsworth piece comes in these lines:
"For oft when on my couch I lie,
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills
And dances with the daffodils".
The memory of such a beautiful sight is enough to lift the poet out of his habitual depression. Really it's the same sentiment as in "Favourite Things" from the Sound of Music:
" When the dog bites, when the bee stings,
When I'm feeling sad,
I simply remember my favourite things
And then I don't feel so bad."
Would you ever have thought that Rodgers & Hammerstein and Wordsworth would have had so much in common?
Turning to Spring Sorrow, this is a deceptively simple, almost naive poem. I reproduce it in full here.
All suddenly the wind comes soft
And spring is here again:
And the hawthorn quickens with buds of green,
And my heart with buds of pain.
My heart all winter lay so numb,
The earth so dead and frore,
That I never thought the spring would come,
Or my heart wake any more.
But winter's broken and spring has woken,
And the small birds cry again;
And the hawthorn hedge puts forth its buds,
And my heart puts forth its pain.
The greening of the earth at the start of spring becomes a metaphor for the reawakening of feeling after a long period of numbness following deep hurt. Pain returns - but that is a sign of healing, and of new life.
Exactly when Rupert Brooke wrote this song I don't know, but it may have been during WWI: even if it was not, it is so clearly about the start of recovery from grief that I am sure Brooke must have been writing about personal bereavement. John Ireland's setting of it dates back to 1918, not long after Brooke's death, and I wonder if the two men knew each other: certainly Ireland's setting - also deceptively simple - perfectly captures the bittersweet nature of this poem. Because of its simplicity, the Associated Board set it for Grade V: but for me, this song requires far more emotional maturity than a typical Grade V candidate will usually have. A simple song it may be, but it conveys complex and difficult emotions.
So songs should never be judged by appearances. And actually, nor should students - despite what I have just said about Grade V candidates! I am constantly amazed by the ability of young singers to understand and communicate emotions that are not yet, and may never be, part of their life experience. Imagination is truly a powerful tool for a singer.
Friday, 24 February 2012
Sunday, 12 February 2012
The price of greatness
Tonight, we mourn the passing of a great singer. Whitney Houston was found dead in her hotel room at the age of 48. In the last few years, her life had been marred by personal problems and drug abuse. Along with her wonderful voice and extraordinary talent, it seems, went emotional vulnerability and an addictive personality.
Whitney Houston singing Run To You - YouTube
On 23rd July 2011 we mourned the passing of another great singer and songwriter.
Amy Winehouse was found dead at her home at the age of 27. She had a history of personal problems, drug and alcohol abuse. The inquest reported that she was more than five times over the drink/drive alcohol limit when she died.
Amy Winehouse singing Back to Black - YouTube
Michael Jackson in Thriller - YouTube
Many more great musical and artistic talents have died young, and a high proportion of those have been from some form of substance abuse or another form of self-harm. Jimi Hendrix (27), Janis Joplin (27), Jim Morrison (27), Hank Williams (29) and Elvis Presley (42) all died from drug overdoses. Kurt Cobain shot himself after taking a lethal amount of heroin: he was only 27. Charlie Parker died aged 34 from pneumonia and an ulcer brought on by drug abuse. Karen Carpenter died from anorexia at the age of 32.
It seems to me that their greatness came at great personal cost. Do people with such talent suffer because of their talent? Would they have been so great if they were not so vulnerable? Perhaps it is their very vulnerability that makes them so able to connect with us. What makes them great is not just their wonderful voices, their great musical and artistic talents. It is their ability to express for us the feelings that we dare not experience. And in expressing those extreme emotions, they are caught themselves by the pain. Even I, a much less talented singer, must experience to some extent the emotions I wish to convey through my music. Perhaps these much greater singers, because they communicate those emotions so much better than me, suffer much more than I do - and when the pain becomes too much to bear, they numb themselves with drugs, alcohol and self-harm......
Whatever the reason for their vulnerability, it is certain that many of the greatest artists are not with us for very long. They burn out quickly and are gone, and we are left only with the memory of someone who was able to touch us deeply. Recordings and images are but a feeble reminder: the heart is gone, and we are bereft.
Whitney Houston singing Run To You - YouTube
On 23rd July 2011 we mourned the passing of another great singer and songwriter.
Amy Winehouse was found dead at her home at the age of 27. She had a history of personal problems, drug and alcohol abuse. The inquest reported that she was more than five times over the drink/drive alcohol limit when she died.
Amy Winehouse singing Back to Black - YouTube
On 25th June 2009 we mourned the passing of an extraordinary musical talent. Michael Jackson died in his bed at his rented mansion. He was 50. He had been addicted to prescription drugs and painkillers for a long time and died from an accidental overdose of a hospital anaesthetic administered by his personal physician.
Michael Jackson in Thriller - YouTube
Many more great musical and artistic talents have died young, and a high proportion of those have been from some form of substance abuse or another form of self-harm. Jimi Hendrix (27), Janis Joplin (27), Jim Morrison (27), Hank Williams (29) and Elvis Presley (42) all died from drug overdoses. Kurt Cobain shot himself after taking a lethal amount of heroin: he was only 27. Charlie Parker died aged 34 from pneumonia and an ulcer brought on by drug abuse. Karen Carpenter died from anorexia at the age of 32.
It seems to me that their greatness came at great personal cost. Do people with such talent suffer because of their talent? Would they have been so great if they were not so vulnerable? Perhaps it is their very vulnerability that makes them so able to connect with us. What makes them great is not just their wonderful voices, their great musical and artistic talents. It is their ability to express for us the feelings that we dare not experience. And in expressing those extreme emotions, they are caught themselves by the pain. Even I, a much less talented singer, must experience to some extent the emotions I wish to convey through my music. Perhaps these much greater singers, because they communicate those emotions so much better than me, suffer much more than I do - and when the pain becomes too much to bear, they numb themselves with drugs, alcohol and self-harm......
Whatever the reason for their vulnerability, it is certain that many of the greatest artists are not with us for very long. They burn out quickly and are gone, and we are left only with the memory of someone who was able to touch us deeply. Recordings and images are but a feeble reminder: the heart is gone, and we are bereft.
Tuesday, 11 October 2011
Let the frogs sing
My rule no. 1 - "If it hurts, stop" - applies here. If your throat is so sore it hurts to speak, let alone sing, for goodness' sake don't! Pain is always an indicator that something is wrong. Shut up and let your poor voice heal.
However, lesser ills are not necessarily a reason to stop singing. If it doesn't hurt to sing - even if your throat is a bit sore - it's often ok to do so. But there is a second consideration.
Sometimes voices that are below par simply don't want to work. They don't hurt, but trying to sing is like wading through treacle, and the voice is a shadow of its normal self. If this is how you feel, singing is pointless. You will only wear yourself out and you may do damage. So even though there is no pain as such, rule no. 1 still applies. Stop, and let your voice heal.
But what if there's no pain and your voice is working ok, but every time you try to sing you get the Frog Chorus? This often happens at the end of a cold, when there's still a lot of catarrh lying around. My general advice would be to let the frogs sing. Don't try to avoid them by singing "above" them or pushing through them - that only makes the catarrh worse. And remember my rule number 3 - you can't hear your own voice. You hear the frogs. We generally don't - but we do notice if you compromise your vocal production in order to avoid them.
Above all though, if you have to sing with a voice that isn't at its best, you MUST maintain good vocal technique. So many people start singing too quietly when they have a cold, because they think that preserves their voice. It doesn't. Many people also stop breathing deeply and supporting their voices because they are worried that the sound may crack. Reducing the breath and support is the WORST thing you can do to a voice that is not well. If the sound cracks when you support it properly, you shouldn't be singing.
So if you have a cold or a cough, sing normally or not at all. And let the frogs sing too.
Wednesday, 17 August 2011
Singing teaching and vocal abuse
For a while now, I've been teaching someone who has damaged her voice. She has vocal fold nodules which reduce with rest but never really go away. Normally one would suggest complete vocal rest for her, but....it's been a long time, and there is a real risk that the muscles will start to waste. So I'm working with her to try to establish a safe singing technique so she doesn't do further damage.
She has had singing lessons in the past, and it was evident in talking to her that the problems with her voice started AFTER she had lessons. Now this is odd. Vocal fold nodules are primarily caused by poor technique, so singing lessons should reduce the chances of getting them. I wondered whether the cause was over-use rather than poor technique, but again, it didn't seem she was doing excessive amounts of singing. So what was going on?
Listening to her and "filtering out" the breathiness caused by the nodules, the middle of her voice was far too dark and lacked clarity. There was no edge on the voice at all (what the Americans call "twang"). Now this student sings mainly musical theatre which requires the singer to make a lot of sound in the low to middle part of the voice. She admitted she had taken to pushing her voice in order to make more sound, which is undoubtedly why she had developed nodules. But why was she having to do that? She doesn't have a high voice, so this isn't a problem caused by singing at too low a pitch. It's a problem caused by inappropriate vocal quality.
Lack of twang makes it very hard for the singer to project the voice. Twang is the "cutting edge" that allows them, for example, to be heard above a big orchestra. Some voices are naturally short of twang, and singing teachers prescribe exercises for them to make the best use of what twang there is. But in this case, there didn't seem to be a fundamental shortage of twang. The lowest part of her voice could be heard across the street. So why did the twang disappear in the middle?
I asked her to forget everything she had ever been taught, and simply sing the way she did before she had lessons - and to help her, I gave her a song she had sung at school but never studied with her teacher. She sang it simply and beautifully, and produced an enormous, bright, clear sound in her middle voice. The dark cloudy timbre disappeared completely. I asked her why she didn't sing like that normally. Her answer shocked me. "I was told it was wrong", she said.
It appears she had studied with a teacher who didn't like twang. My first teacher was one of those. I still remember being told there was an "edge" on my voice which we should try to "round off". And we did, for nearly a year. By the time I went to music college I couldn't be heard beyond the front row and my professor wondered what I was doing there, because he couldn't hear a voice. He spent the next year trying to put the twang back on my voice, with me resisting him all the way. Finally in desperation he cried "Why won't you do this?". And I answered "I was told it was wrong". I explained that my first teacher didn't like the edge on my voice. He was horrified. "But you need edge, or you can't be heard!" he said.
And so I now know how my student got nodules despite having singing training. Her teacher had systematically removed the twang from her voice. The price she paid for this was serious reduction in her ability to make herself heard, which led her to push her voice to the point of damage.
To my mind this is vocal abuse and that teacher should be shot.
And the moral of today's story is - choose your teacher carefully. There are no professional standards for singing teachers and little agreement on technique. And there are some seriously bad teachers out there.
Interestingly, my student didn't actually like the way her teacher sang. So my advice would be, when choosing a singing teacher, listen to them singing, or if they are past it (some are, but may still be good teachers) listen to their students. If you don't like what you hear, DON'T STUDY WITH THEM, however highly recommended they are!
She has had singing lessons in the past, and it was evident in talking to her that the problems with her voice started AFTER she had lessons. Now this is odd. Vocal fold nodules are primarily caused by poor technique, so singing lessons should reduce the chances of getting them. I wondered whether the cause was over-use rather than poor technique, but again, it didn't seem she was doing excessive amounts of singing. So what was going on?
Listening to her and "filtering out" the breathiness caused by the nodules, the middle of her voice was far too dark and lacked clarity. There was no edge on the voice at all (what the Americans call "twang"). Now this student sings mainly musical theatre which requires the singer to make a lot of sound in the low to middle part of the voice. She admitted she had taken to pushing her voice in order to make more sound, which is undoubtedly why she had developed nodules. But why was she having to do that? She doesn't have a high voice, so this isn't a problem caused by singing at too low a pitch. It's a problem caused by inappropriate vocal quality.
Lack of twang makes it very hard for the singer to project the voice. Twang is the "cutting edge" that allows them, for example, to be heard above a big orchestra. Some voices are naturally short of twang, and singing teachers prescribe exercises for them to make the best use of what twang there is. But in this case, there didn't seem to be a fundamental shortage of twang. The lowest part of her voice could be heard across the street. So why did the twang disappear in the middle?
I asked her to forget everything she had ever been taught, and simply sing the way she did before she had lessons - and to help her, I gave her a song she had sung at school but never studied with her teacher. She sang it simply and beautifully, and produced an enormous, bright, clear sound in her middle voice. The dark cloudy timbre disappeared completely. I asked her why she didn't sing like that normally. Her answer shocked me. "I was told it was wrong", she said.
It appears she had studied with a teacher who didn't like twang. My first teacher was one of those. I still remember being told there was an "edge" on my voice which we should try to "round off". And we did, for nearly a year. By the time I went to music college I couldn't be heard beyond the front row and my professor wondered what I was doing there, because he couldn't hear a voice. He spent the next year trying to put the twang back on my voice, with me resisting him all the way. Finally in desperation he cried "Why won't you do this?". And I answered "I was told it was wrong". I explained that my first teacher didn't like the edge on my voice. He was horrified. "But you need edge, or you can't be heard!" he said.
And so I now know how my student got nodules despite having singing training. Her teacher had systematically removed the twang from her voice. The price she paid for this was serious reduction in her ability to make herself heard, which led her to push her voice to the point of damage.
To my mind this is vocal abuse and that teacher should be shot.
And the moral of today's story is - choose your teacher carefully. There are no professional standards for singing teachers and little agreement on technique. And there are some seriously bad teachers out there.
Interestingly, my student didn't actually like the way her teacher sang. So my advice would be, when choosing a singing teacher, listen to them singing, or if they are past it (some are, but may still be good teachers) listen to their students. If you don't like what you hear, DON'T STUDY WITH THEM, however highly recommended they are!
Wednesday, 22 June 2011
Lighter is not always better
Among singing teachers, there is a general consensus that heavyweight singing - big operatic or music theatre roles, for example - is bad for young voices. In general I would agree: overstressing voices that are not fully developed tires them and can wear them out before their prime. But there are exceptions.
I am currently teaching a 17-year old soprano. She's not been studying with me very long, but has had singing lessons with another teacher for several years. When she started with me she was singing light soprano repertoire, which would normally be the correct choice for a girl of her age. Her voice was attractively light and bright, but her top notes were restricted and her voice was breathy in the middle and lacking "shine". Her breathing was too high and shallow and there was tension in her shoulders. So I encouraged her to breathe more deeply, relax her shoulders and support her voice from deeper in her body. She did this to some extent in exercises, and what began to appear was a much bigger voice with a real lyric warmth and some of the "shine" that I longed to hear. The trouble was that as soon as she started to sing the light soprano repertoire it all disappeared and we were back to shoulder tension, shallow breathing and breathiness.
Today I gave her Brahms "Immer Leiser" in the high key to try. This is a thoroughly miserable song that requires dark colours and a big lyric sound to work well - completely the opposite of what she had been doing, and not everyone's medicine for a young voice. I encouraged her to make the German vowels as dark as possible - so that her voice sounded "too dark" to her - and to "sock out" the high notes rather than trying to "place and float" them as she had been taught. Singing like this, she sang her way through the piece with complete freedom and produced at the end the easiest top A she has ever sung. And she made the most glorious lyric soprano sound. Wonderful.
At the end of the lesson she said, "That was so easy! And it's the first time my throat hasn't felt sore at the end of a lesson!". I was horrified. Worried that I had been doing something wrong, I asked her if her throat had just been getting sore in the lessons she had had with me. "No," she said, "it's every lesson I've ever had, and rehearsals and concerts as well. I have to have "quiet days" after singing. I thought it was normal!"
Readers of my website will know that Coppola Rule No.1 is "If it hurts, STOP!" Throat soreness after singing is ALWAYS a sign that something is wrong. This girl had been singing in too tight and gripped a way for years - all of it in the name of not overstressing a young voice. The repertoire she has been singing is too light for her and she has never been able to let out that lovely sound - in fact she has been led to believe that singing with her natural rich, warm, vibrant sound is wrong. Even at 17, she needs to be singing bigger things.
So light is not always best for young voices. It depends on the voice. It is the teacher's job to discern what the voice needs in order to develop and set appropriate repertoire. And if that means giving an 18-year-old Madame Butterfly to sing, then do it - and damn the rules.
I am currently teaching a 17-year old soprano. She's not been studying with me very long, but has had singing lessons with another teacher for several years. When she started with me she was singing light soprano repertoire, which would normally be the correct choice for a girl of her age. Her voice was attractively light and bright, but her top notes were restricted and her voice was breathy in the middle and lacking "shine". Her breathing was too high and shallow and there was tension in her shoulders. So I encouraged her to breathe more deeply, relax her shoulders and support her voice from deeper in her body. She did this to some extent in exercises, and what began to appear was a much bigger voice with a real lyric warmth and some of the "shine" that I longed to hear. The trouble was that as soon as she started to sing the light soprano repertoire it all disappeared and we were back to shoulder tension, shallow breathing and breathiness.
Today I gave her Brahms "Immer Leiser" in the high key to try. This is a thoroughly miserable song that requires dark colours and a big lyric sound to work well - completely the opposite of what she had been doing, and not everyone's medicine for a young voice. I encouraged her to make the German vowels as dark as possible - so that her voice sounded "too dark" to her - and to "sock out" the high notes rather than trying to "place and float" them as she had been taught. Singing like this, she sang her way through the piece with complete freedom and produced at the end the easiest top A she has ever sung. And she made the most glorious lyric soprano sound. Wonderful.
At the end of the lesson she said, "That was so easy! And it's the first time my throat hasn't felt sore at the end of a lesson!". I was horrified. Worried that I had been doing something wrong, I asked her if her throat had just been getting sore in the lessons she had had with me. "No," she said, "it's every lesson I've ever had, and rehearsals and concerts as well. I have to have "quiet days" after singing. I thought it was normal!"
Readers of my website will know that Coppola Rule No.1 is "If it hurts, STOP!" Throat soreness after singing is ALWAYS a sign that something is wrong. This girl had been singing in too tight and gripped a way for years - all of it in the name of not overstressing a young voice. The repertoire she has been singing is too light for her and she has never been able to let out that lovely sound - in fact she has been led to believe that singing with her natural rich, warm, vibrant sound is wrong. Even at 17, she needs to be singing bigger things.
So light is not always best for young voices. It depends on the voice. It is the teacher's job to discern what the voice needs in order to develop and set appropriate repertoire. And if that means giving an 18-year-old Madame Butterfly to sing, then do it - and damn the rules.
Thursday, 26 May 2011
Too big too soon: the price of ambition
A few weeks ago I attended an audition day for Mantissa Opera, a professional repertory opera company based in Medway. I am already a company member, so the pressure was off me and I had a chance to listen to lots of young hopefuls singing their hearts out in the hope of getting a job.
There were some seriously good singers there, with lovely voices, singing repertoire that was suitable for their voices and their age. I heard some truly wonderful perfomances by singers who clearly have a great future ahead of them. But there were others who were singing material that was unsuitable for their age, their stage of development, and in at least one case their voice type. I felt for them as they tried to sing things that were too big, too high or just wrong for them, and they paid the price in intonation, tone quality and expression.
The tendency of young singers to want to sing bigger repertoire than their voices can cope with is a well-known problem extending back at least a hundred years. Here is Caruso writing about it in the early 20th century:
"...Many singers with voices suitable only for light opera are constantly trying to branch out into big dramatic arias. Such performances are assuredly distressing to hear and are certainly disastrous for the voices concerned. It is no wonder that these people are often ill, for one cannot make such efforts without injuring the health. I realise that they often do it to please their directors and to be obliging in an emergency, but when they are down and out others will easily replace them and they are heard from no more......"
The same is true - even more so, maybe - in contemporary musical theatre. Directors exhort singers to sing louder and more dramatically even at the cost of their vocal health. They don't care if the singer falls apart, because after all there are plenty more waiting in the wings. The profession is littered with the ghosts of people who have pushed their voices and themselves beyond their limits and paid the price in vocal damage, stress and trauma. So many, many broken dreams.
Caruso's advice from nearly a hundred years ago is still relevant today:
"To keep the voice fresh for the longest possible time one should not only never overstep his vocal 'means', but should limit his output as he does the expenses of his purse"
So when I hear a young soubrette soprano singing the second Queen of the Night aria when her voice is only suitable for Despina, or a 25-year-old lyric soprano singing Tosca's "Vissi d'Arte" when she won't be vocally ready for it for at least another 10 years, I find myself thinking - have we learned NOTHING in a century?
There were some seriously good singers there, with lovely voices, singing repertoire that was suitable for their voices and their age. I heard some truly wonderful perfomances by singers who clearly have a great future ahead of them. But there were others who were singing material that was unsuitable for their age, their stage of development, and in at least one case their voice type. I felt for them as they tried to sing things that were too big, too high or just wrong for them, and they paid the price in intonation, tone quality and expression.
The tendency of young singers to want to sing bigger repertoire than their voices can cope with is a well-known problem extending back at least a hundred years. Here is Caruso writing about it in the early 20th century:
"...Many singers with voices suitable only for light opera are constantly trying to branch out into big dramatic arias. Such performances are assuredly distressing to hear and are certainly disastrous for the voices concerned. It is no wonder that these people are often ill, for one cannot make such efforts without injuring the health. I realise that they often do it to please their directors and to be obliging in an emergency, but when they are down and out others will easily replace them and they are heard from no more......"
The same is true - even more so, maybe - in contemporary musical theatre. Directors exhort singers to sing louder and more dramatically even at the cost of their vocal health. They don't care if the singer falls apart, because after all there are plenty more waiting in the wings. The profession is littered with the ghosts of people who have pushed their voices and themselves beyond their limits and paid the price in vocal damage, stress and trauma. So many, many broken dreams.
Caruso's advice from nearly a hundred years ago is still relevant today:
"To keep the voice fresh for the longest possible time one should not only never overstep his vocal 'means', but should limit his output as he does the expenses of his purse"
So when I hear a young soubrette soprano singing the second Queen of the Night aria when her voice is only suitable for Despina, or a 25-year-old lyric soprano singing Tosca's "Vissi d'Arte" when she won't be vocally ready for it for at least another 10 years, I find myself thinking - have we learned NOTHING in a century?
Saturday, 18 December 2010
Christmas Carols - our cultural heritage
This week, as it was the last week of school before Christmas, I decided to invite all my students to sing traditional Christmas carols in their lessons. I thought that this would be an opportunity for them to have some fun singing songs they know well and enjoy. So I dusted down my ancient but still serviceable book of Christmas carols and touted it around the various schools that I visit. I did expect some students to refuse on the grounds of boredom - after all, they are teenagers. But I didn't expect this....student after student looked down the list of carols and then said they didn't know any of them!
I'm not talking here about obscure pieces only performed by cathedral choirs and old fogies. The list included such perennials as "O Come All Ye Faithful", "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" and "Silent Night".
When I asked the students what Christmas songs they did know, they all knew contemporary songs such as Mariah Carey's "All I Want For Christmas Is You" and Slade's "Merry Christmas Everybody", and most knew non-religious winter songs such as "Jingle Bells" and "Frosty the Snowman". They had learned these in primary school - but not, it seems, traditional Christmas carols.
There has been considerable pressure on primary schools to de-Christianise "Christmas". The Christmas holidays are now "the Winter break", Nativity plays are now "Winter shows". Schools are encouraged to celebrate Divali, Chanukah and Eid - but not Christmas. I don't have a problem with cultural diversity - in fact I applaud and encourage it. By all means, celebrate the festivals of other faiths - the more the merrier, particularly if it means that children do more music, more drama and more art, and generally have more fun in school. But not at the expense of the main Christian festivals of Christmas and Easter (already airbrushed out of existence by the 6-term school system). Without them, much of our British musical and artistic heritage is lost.
I should declare an interest here. I am a Christian myself. However, my aim in promoting Christmas carols is not to spread the Christian message - frankly there are much better ways of doing that than singing songs about Baby Jesus. My concern is with British culture.
Christmas carols are among the very few forms of traditional British music that are still widely known and performed. Our traditional "folk" music long ago disappeared into folk clubs and singarounds attended mainly by bearded weirdos and middle-aged women. The Associated Board of the Royal Schools of Music still insists that singing exam candidates must sing traditional songs (and includes a lot of traditional music, not just from Britain, in its syllabus) - kudos to them for this - but I would have to say that it is inordinately difficult to get children to learn these songs. They simply aren't what they sing, either in school or at home. The days are long gone when class singing was made up mainly of traditional songs and hymns, and there was a copy of the Community Song Book in every household. Class singing now consists almost entirely of pop and show songs, and I struggle to get my students to sing anything written before about 1960.
Our British musical culture is unique in the world and it is OLD! It didn't start with the Beatles - it goes back hundreds of years. It is based around community choral singing and is enriched by our Christian heritage. If we don't pass it on to our children then it will disappear, and we will be the poorer for it.
So this is an appeal, to school teachers - especially those in primary schools - parents and all those concerned with the education of the young. Please don't deprive them of what is left of their birthright, our wonderful British musical heritage. It's probably too late to save our traditional songs from relegation to the lunatic fringe, but there's still time to rescue our declining Christmas carol tradition. Even if you personally don't believe a word of it, teach them songs about the Baby Jesus, the stable in Bethlehem, the shepherds and the star in the East. Take them to your local church's Christmas carol service - even if you never go near the place at any other time. Join in the carol singing with the Salvation Army Band outside your local shopping centre (and donate some money to charity while you're at it). Watch Songs of Praise and Carols from Kings. Hold Nativity plays with hordes of shepherds wearing tea towels and angels with tinsel halos singing "While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks". Above all -sing the carols yourself. You never know, you might enjoy the experience!
I'm not talking here about obscure pieces only performed by cathedral choirs and old fogies. The list included such perennials as "O Come All Ye Faithful", "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" and "Silent Night".
When I asked the students what Christmas songs they did know, they all knew contemporary songs such as Mariah Carey's "All I Want For Christmas Is You" and Slade's "Merry Christmas Everybody", and most knew non-religious winter songs such as "Jingle Bells" and "Frosty the Snowman". They had learned these in primary school - but not, it seems, traditional Christmas carols.
There has been considerable pressure on primary schools to de-Christianise "Christmas". The Christmas holidays are now "the Winter break", Nativity plays are now "Winter shows". Schools are encouraged to celebrate Divali, Chanukah and Eid - but not Christmas. I don't have a problem with cultural diversity - in fact I applaud and encourage it. By all means, celebrate the festivals of other faiths - the more the merrier, particularly if it means that children do more music, more drama and more art, and generally have more fun in school. But not at the expense of the main Christian festivals of Christmas and Easter (already airbrushed out of existence by the 6-term school system). Without them, much of our British musical and artistic heritage is lost.
I should declare an interest here. I am a Christian myself. However, my aim in promoting Christmas carols is not to spread the Christian message - frankly there are much better ways of doing that than singing songs about Baby Jesus. My concern is with British culture.
Christmas carols are among the very few forms of traditional British music that are still widely known and performed. Our traditional "folk" music long ago disappeared into folk clubs and singarounds attended mainly by bearded weirdos and middle-aged women. The Associated Board of the Royal Schools of Music still insists that singing exam candidates must sing traditional songs (and includes a lot of traditional music, not just from Britain, in its syllabus) - kudos to them for this - but I would have to say that it is inordinately difficult to get children to learn these songs. They simply aren't what they sing, either in school or at home. The days are long gone when class singing was made up mainly of traditional songs and hymns, and there was a copy of the Community Song Book in every household. Class singing now consists almost entirely of pop and show songs, and I struggle to get my students to sing anything written before about 1960.
Our British musical culture is unique in the world and it is OLD! It didn't start with the Beatles - it goes back hundreds of years. It is based around community choral singing and is enriched by our Christian heritage. If we don't pass it on to our children then it will disappear, and we will be the poorer for it.
So this is an appeal, to school teachers - especially those in primary schools - parents and all those concerned with the education of the young. Please don't deprive them of what is left of their birthright, our wonderful British musical heritage. It's probably too late to save our traditional songs from relegation to the lunatic fringe, but there's still time to rescue our declining Christmas carol tradition. Even if you personally don't believe a word of it, teach them songs about the Baby Jesus, the stable in Bethlehem, the shepherds and the star in the East. Take them to your local church's Christmas carol service - even if you never go near the place at any other time. Join in the carol singing with the Salvation Army Band outside your local shopping centre (and donate some money to charity while you're at it). Watch Songs of Praise and Carols from Kings. Hold Nativity plays with hordes of shepherds wearing tea towels and angels with tinsel halos singing "While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks". Above all -sing the carols yourself. You never know, you might enjoy the experience!
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