Pulling Through

After a quiet and disciplined week, today was the day. I did it. I didn't back out. I sang "Winter Wonderland" with a fabulous, impromptu jazz ensemble. My voice held out. After the piece, I sang several Christmas carols and enjoyed talking again. Of course, after a few hours of freedom, my voice is raspy low again. The "no holds barred" approach to having the voice ready was apparently important! Anyway, focusing on the physical health of my voice kept me from obsessing over the upcoming "performance"! Today, I intentionally reminded myself the best lesson I've received which is in voice lessons: while notes matter, what is most important is to tell the story! Ella is my hero in transforming a song into a story!

Silent Night(s and Days)

For as long as I can remember, I've had stage fright with my singing. When I was 15, I burst into tears during my audition for Lil' Abner. When I was 17, I walked out of the audition for Madrigal singers, the highest caliber musical group in my high school. The list of "chickening out" since then is longer than I care to admit. One might imagine how taking voice lessons, building confidence in my singing has been a big step. I haven't yet taken the plunge to audition for community theatre. Last winter, I was excited to audition for a community theatre production of Secret Garden. The show has a dream role for an alto...Martha is funny, she tells songs with stories, she is sassy. And the role calls for a low alto...right up my alley. So, this is a dream role...yet, I imagined being excited to simply take part in the chorus or have a bit part. After all, this was to be my first audition in 20+ years...I wasn't expecting the moon. The role and the show also fit my other important parameter...it was a show my 6 year old could see! In the final weeks leading up to the audition, I got bronchitis...and I completely lost my voice. The voice was in no shape for an audition, so I had to pass. I was really disappointed...I really wanted to take the plunge...it's a long lost dream after all. A couple months later, I sang in the college, where I work's, Employee Variety Show. I sang a comedic piece from I love You, You're Perfect, Now Change. In this musical about the cycle of relationships, I sang Always a Bridesmaid which details the disastrous wedding dresses and marriages witnessed by a perpetual bridesmaid. I was nervous, but I had a great time. The show raised funds for a charity, and my jar raised the most money of all 10 acts. I did it! I sang in public, and I did good! The confidence continues to grow bit by bit.

Following the Variety Show, a colleague, Jon, who'd played alto sax during the show asked: "Do you ever sing jazz? Because I could hear some renditions as you sang...". The next day, I ordered some Ella Fitzgerald and Diana Krall. I am hooked. So, when asked if I'd contribute a "talent" to the Employee Christmas lunch, I called Jon! He was thrilled with the idea, and before long...we have a full jazz program complete with 7 instruments and 3 vocalists. One piece is my singing Winter Wonderland with the instrumentalists! Talk about a dream!! Well, one week before the luncheon--last Friday--I woke up with no voice. I'd had a slight ear ache; it's cold and flu season. Before the cold even hit, the voice was gone. After an initial bout of frustration and hopelessness, I decided to do all possible to heal my vocal chords in time for this coming Friday. In the 4 days since, I have spoken perhaps 6 sentences. My son is getting very good at discerning my charade-like, silent directives to eat dinner, play cards, brush teeth. I have drank more tea than I can count. I'm giving it my best shot. Perhaps the good news is that years ago, a hoarse voice would have been the perfect cover for my stage fright...an easy out. This time, the hoarseness catapulted me, after a bout of self-pity, into a serious fight to get my voice ready to sing no matter the cost.

Being Alto

After several lessons, it was clear--at least to Larry-- that I am drawn to certain types of songs. I enjoy "Someone Like You" from Jekell & Hyde, a woman singing of her desire to be loved by a man...a man whom she sees only the good side of his dual identity. One of my favorite character pieces is "The Gentleman is a Dope" from Allegro. The secretary sings for most of the song about what an idiot her boss is, and then finally in the last verse admits-- both to her self and the audience-- that she loves him. Still, my favorite piece is "Someone Else's Story" from Chess. Florence sings about a women letting go of a relationship and, perhaps more poignantly, of letting go of her promise to the relationship. By the end of the song, she advises that moving on is the right thing but also acknowledges the depth of her loss. Moreover, she finally admits the real story--the "story is the girl is me". After a few weeks of this material, Larry asserted, "We need to find you some upbeat songs!". I fondly retorted, "The alto never gets the guy".

There is a relational pattern in musical theatre....typically the soprano and tenor fall in love, experience conflict, and reunite for the happy ending. The baritone is the bad guy. The alto either loses her man or supplies comic relief. As I think about my own relationships thus far, it seems I've played my vocal part well. In spite of what seem today to be insurmountable challenges, it has been hard to let go of relationships or, more pointedly, to the commitments I've made to relationships. I have not wanted to be that person who gives up or doesn't live up to her convictions. In the end, thought, I've woken up and wondered with Florence: how did I come to live "someone else's story"? In my quest to not let go, I've lost myself. As I work on these pieces in my repertoire, I now hear, and give voice to reality of these pieces...a longing to be loved that sometimes overwhelms a judge of character....to sometimes funny and othertimes tragic results. And as I contemplate the idea of relationships for the future, I long to love and be loved in an authentic way, that enables me to live my own story. I love being an alto....I just don't have to play the role off stage!

Letting Go

I never imagined I'd be finding my voice at 40-something, and yet here I am. When my second marriage fell apart, I found solace in three sources - my community of faith, a good therapist, and voice lessons. I have always loved to sing, but a sense of "imposter syndrome" always overwhelmed my courage. So, I found a voice teacher at the age of 38, and aimed to really see if I could sing. I imagined learning to breath well, stand up straight, and enunciate. In the last three years, I have, indeed, worked on these techniques but have found these to be ultimately minor aspects of voice lessons.

My first lesson was learning to relax. My teacher, Larry, quickly noticed that my jaw was perpetually tense. [Of course, given the genesis of these lessons, a little stress in the jaw is no surprise]. Private voice lessons are intense, so tension is no surprise. As the student, I basically sing....alone....in a small room with one teacher and a piano. He played the piano and beckoned my voice to follow the notes...usually with sounds reminiscent of an early childhood phonic lesson....Ahhhhhhhhh, Ohhhhhhh, BiBopBiBopBiBop. The scales didn't stay in my comfort zone, but were designed to push my vocal range at both the high and low extremes. During these exercises I was supposed to "relax". Instead, I stayed true to character and simply tried too hard focusing on getting it right. The result was nervous laughter and a vocal sound only a teacher being paid by the hour could love.

In the midst of these exercises, Larry would sometimes ask me a story about my life, about my then four year old son. And I would tell him a funny story, and we'd talk a moment, and then we'd return to the exercises. I recall thinking on several occasions: "I'm not paying him for idle chit chat!" And then one day, I got it. Larry asked me a story about my son right in the midst of an exercise....at that moment of trepidation on the scales when the voice either transitions smoothly to it's "upper register" or it "breaks". After sharing my anecdote and subsequent smile, Larry returned to the exercise and my voice soared smoothly through the scale. Suddenly, I was on to him! Larry asked me for stories of my son at strategic moments, those times when I needed most to relax. Voice lessons have been less about technique and more about letting go, which - I should add - complimented the advice from my therapist and faith community perfectly!