Way back when I first began to learn about how the world works, I never connected music with athleticism. Not only did I not connect them, they each seemed to belong in totally separate compartments, and in fact, one even at times seemed to preclude the other.
In high school, I belonged to the social status group that had been dubbed the "band squirrels." Band squirrels hung out down the "band hall." The band hall door was locked when we first arrived at school in the morning, but we sat down on the floor together outside the band hall door and fooled around until the music teacher arrived and opened up the door. By the time he arrived, there was only a few minutes left before the bell rang and we had to all get to our homerooms, but nevertheless, we spent those few remaining minutes -- every single morning -- "down the bandhall."
Most of my elective high school classes and extracurricular activities centered on music. I was in concert band, marching band, jazz band, chorus, and any other musical activity that came about. Most of my friends were into music as well, and -- as I recall -- most of them did not seem very athletic to me.
For one thing, being involved with sports conflicted with musical activities. We had marching band practice outdoors in the Fall and would not have been able to play soccer or field hockey. Then in the spring was school musical rehearsals, and there was no way I was going to jeopardize having a part in the school musical -- no siree -- by belonging to some extracurricular sports team.
There were a few students who juggled sports and music, but they were not really considered "band squirrels." They were kind of well-rounded kids who were doing a little bit of everything, but one could see they had a conflict of loyalties and they would miss practices and not really feel like one of the regulars. They also usually didn't play their instruments on as high a level as the "band squirrels" did.
Overall, the "jocks" were a completely separate world of people from the band squirrels, and it appeared as if one precluded the other.
I remember, however, when I first branched off to explore some athleticism. It was toward the end of my junior year of high school that I started thinking that perhaps it might be a good idea I should explore a sport. I decided to join the track team.
It's not that I had not been athletic at all. No, that was not the case because athleticism was highly valued by my parents and we had been encouraged in every way to develop various sides to our athletic natures. I was an avid and accomplished golfer, the junior champ down at our country club. Our family took regular family bike rides together. We had all been given extensive swimming lessons and I was a strong swimmer, and had even enjoyed perfecting some beginning diving. We had all studied gymnastics in grade school and I had basic gymnastic skills -- cartwheels, limbers, splits, walkovers, back walkovers.
But I think because music was a stronger interest, I just did not go out for teams. I was also really afraid of ball sports, and didn't think very fast on my feet, so I did not fare well in group sports.
I'm not sure why I chose the track team, but I think it was because my dad had been a big track star in high school, and my younger sisters were following in his footsteps and making a name for themselves on the track team.
Well, there are a lot of directions I could go with this. I could get sidetracked and start talking about all my adventures in learning about track, but I will save that for my new blog Barefoot Fresca, and stick to the point I am getting at here regarding athleticism and being a musician.
Track introduced me to running and running introduced me to the cross country team where I developed more into a runner. This seemed to be a separate part of me from my musician side. In fact, being on the cross country team did make it more stressful to be in marching band that year. I had to run from one practice to the other and my plate was definitely full my senior year.
But they still seemed like separate lives. My athletic/running life -- and -- my musical life.
In recent years, however, I made a big connection between athleticism and singing. It was on the day that the realization hit me, "Oh my gosh! singing is athletic. It's athletic! That means I can develop it!" that I really began to find my way as a singer.
But still, for a while after that realization, singing seemed like it's own separate form of athleticism, still a bit disconnected from other athleticism in my mind. It was athletic because it involved muscles, exercising, strengthening, flexing, coordinating muscles that took practice and developed along the same kinds of principles as other athletic activities. But I still didn't understand that my entire instrument was athletic and that other kinds of athleticism would feed into and be essential for developing my full potential as a singer.
The first connection to other athleticism was the thought that doing ab exercises might help me master breath management needed for singing.
I did a little research, asked some singers, and most seemed to think that separate ab development, overall, helped a singer. There were some people who protested that the ab activity of singing was particular and specific to singing, and that the only way to develop that ab capability was to sing -- which is true. Then there were a few voices who seemed to think separate ab development would be detrimental to singing if it created too tight muscles. But overall, it seemed logical to me that the stronger, healthier, more developed the ab muscles were, the better off I'd be, and I began to do some extra ab work as part of my training as a singer
Well, that was the beginning and this has led to my philosophy, which I have written about here a lot, that some kind of athletic training must be part of my development as a singer.
Now it seems that my interests from way back have come full circle and I participate on Facebook group called The Athletic Performer founded by my friend and fellow blogger, Robin, who also writes a blog by the same name. The group is full of singers and musicians who include athletic cross training as part of their singing life. The leader, Robin, seems to epitomize the ideal of the theory, because she is a highly evolved athlete -- marathoner and triathlete -- and a master of a gorgeous singing voice as well, who is progressing very well in her professional singing career right now.
Another member of the Athletic Performer Facebook group has written recently on her blog, The Liberated Voice, about how important it is for singers to pursue athletic disciplines in her article: The Vocal Athlete
I have started a new blog, Barefoot Fresca, to write about my parallel athletic pursuit of running, but there are times, because of how my singing is now linked with my running, where the topics will weave in and out from one another, and principles and philosophies gleaned from one discipline will apply to the other.
Don't be surprised if you see some weird barefoot running videos show up amongst the practice files in Frescamari's Practice Room as my two endeavors, athletics and music, start to come together and no longer be contained in separate compartments.
The highs and lows, successes and failures, smarts and stupids, joys and pains, ridiculousness and sublimity -- and -- the yin and the yang of one person's quest to master her singing voice and not give up, even if it takes a lifetime.
Showing posts with label Athletics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Athletics. Show all posts
Friday, July 2, 2010
Thursday, June 24, 2010
More Barefoot Running
I can't believe this, but I actually ran a whole mile barefoot yesterday.
This was not the way I had planned it.
Before I stepped out for my run, my plan had been to walk 1/4 mile as a warm-up, then run 1/2 mile barefoot, then put my minimalist Vibram Fivefingers shoes on and run the rest of the mile. But before I began -- forgetting how good it had felt on the other days -- the thought of going out there barefoot made me shudder a little, and I longed for the "comfort" of my expensive running shoes and socks. I turned to my husband just before I set out and said, "You know, I really don't want to become one of those fully barefoot runners. I am just doing this as an exercise to strengthen my feet and try to acquire better running form. I never plan to go more than 1/2 mile of my workouts barefoot each time!"
But -- lo and behold -- it felt so great and so right when I was out there! And when I got to the corner where I was supposed to -- where I had planned to -- put on my shoes, I just kept going and completed the entire run barefoot. It's almost as if with this barefoot thing there's another force -- some kind of destiny? -- pulling me along despite my intentions.
I've always been a little unconventional about some things. I try to tone it down because I do so want to fit in to regular society. But because I am open to non-conventional thought, and because I often stumble on out-of-the-mainstream information that makes sense to me, I often find myself following strange paths, much as I try not to.
I really do want to fit in. I don't want to be strange, and I don't want to do things differently merely to prove some kind of point.
Yet here I have -- once again -- commenced to explore an activity way off the beaten path. Running barefoot. And the great fear I've had for many years -- that I am a "character" -- and a destiny that I've tried to fight -- that I am a "character" -- seems to be fulfilling itself before my very eyes. For I surely must have appeared as such a character, a plus-sized woman dressed in men's running clothes because they don't make cute women's running clothes in her size, carrying a pair of weird looking Vibram Five fingers shoes, accompanied by a little dog with a doggie poop bag swinging from her hand as she waited to encounter a trash can.
As I ran along this way, feeling slightly self-conscious but trying to accept it all and drawing a small amount of attention from time to time, -- (One woman clipping her front hedges saw me coming and called out, "Watch out! There's clippings on the sidewalk! There's some thorns in there!") -- I wondered, "How on earth did I ever end up running like a strange character through the town barefoot?"
There are a couple of strands in the tapestry of my life that link barefoot running to my singing. One strand I've talked to you about, but I'll recap it here:
Another strand to the barefoot running still originates from singing and goes something like this:
This was not the way I had planned it.
Before I stepped out for my run, my plan had been to walk 1/4 mile as a warm-up, then run 1/2 mile barefoot, then put my minimalist Vibram Fivefingers shoes on and run the rest of the mile. But before I began -- forgetting how good it had felt on the other days -- the thought of going out there barefoot made me shudder a little, and I longed for the "comfort" of my expensive running shoes and socks. I turned to my husband just before I set out and said, "You know, I really don't want to become one of those fully barefoot runners. I am just doing this as an exercise to strengthen my feet and try to acquire better running form. I never plan to go more than 1/2 mile of my workouts barefoot each time!"
But -- lo and behold -- it felt so great and so right when I was out there! And when I got to the corner where I was supposed to -- where I had planned to -- put on my shoes, I just kept going and completed the entire run barefoot. It's almost as if with this barefoot thing there's another force -- some kind of destiny? -- pulling me along despite my intentions.
I've always been a little unconventional about some things. I try to tone it down because I do so want to fit in to regular society. But because I am open to non-conventional thought, and because I often stumble on out-of-the-mainstream information that makes sense to me, I often find myself following strange paths, much as I try not to.
I really do want to fit in. I don't want to be strange, and I don't want to do things differently merely to prove some kind of point.
Yet here I have -- once again -- commenced to explore an activity way off the beaten path. Running barefoot. And the great fear I've had for many years -- that I am a "character" -- and a destiny that I've tried to fight -- that I am a "character" -- seems to be fulfilling itself before my very eyes. For I surely must have appeared as such a character, a plus-sized woman dressed in men's running clothes because they don't make cute women's running clothes in her size, carrying a pair of weird looking Vibram Five fingers shoes, accompanied by a little dog with a doggie poop bag swinging from her hand as she waited to encounter a trash can.
As I ran along this way, feeling slightly self-conscious but trying to accept it all and drawing a small amount of attention from time to time, -- (One woman clipping her front hedges saw me coming and called out, "Watch out! There's clippings on the sidewalk! There's some thorns in there!") -- I wondered, "How on earth did I ever end up running like a strange character through the town barefoot?"
There are a couple of strands in the tapestry of my life that link barefoot running to my singing. One strand I've talked to you about, but I'll recap it here:
- I came to believe that improving my fitness level would aid in developing the stamina and endurance I might need to tackle more ambitious works of vocal music. I also came to believe that fitness would be the best way for me to counter-effect the aging process, so that I could expand the number of years of healthful singing.
- I chose running -- an athletic activity I loved as a youth -- and Kung Fu to be the vehicles I hoped would improve my fitness level eventually.
- Despite a conservative approach, my attempt to get back to running resulted in a foot injury.
- Trying to cure the foot injury lead to reading information about how our running form may have been altered to accommodate the design of modern running shoes and may be causing injuries.
- Decided to incorporate some barefoot running in order to re-form myself as a runner and -- it is to be hoped -- minimize the occasion of injuries which can set-back my goals in this area.
Another strand to the barefoot running still originates from singing and goes something like this:
- I was frustrated at one point at my failure to have mastered the skills required to sing more ambitious vocal works. I also longed for the camaraderie of others with my same passion for singing
- My thought that other singers might be able to help me understand what I needed to do to achieve my dream led me to go hunting on the Internet for a place where people might be discussing the issues of singing. I found a message board community of singers and joined the online discussions
- One of the corners of that message board had a place where singers discussed fitness and on that corner of the message board I heard about a blog called The Athletic Performer.
- It was on that blog that I saw the recommendation for the book Born to Run
, by Christopher McDougall, where I was first exposed to the idea that running without my super-reinforced, scientifically formulated running shoes might benefit the healing of my injury.
Trying to learn to sing brings a person to all kinds of strange places. I think I am beginning to understand how following a certain passion in life can be the "path" that brings one through the entirety that is called one's life. And that all the lessons learned from the pursuit of this passion, and the principles that govern the development of skill in this passion will encompass, eventually one's whole life.
The more I read books and blogs by tennis players, golfers, runners, weavers, martial artists, professional organizers, etc.... the more I am learning that the same principals come to the fore and how the discipline one chooses reaches out into all aspects of life.
As it turns out, for me -- for the time being at least -- barefoot running is a way to better singing. But I would never tell a singer that in order to sing well he/she needed to run barefoot. I would never even tell a runner that in order to run well he/she needed to run barefoot. But what I would tell that runner or that singer is that he/she is unique and has a unique path and that each body and person is different and different things are going to work for different people and that part of the fun and adventure of it all is the journey and finding out about one's self in the process.
Perhaps finding this blog and reading about my struggles/trials/reflections/adventures as an avocational singer has now become part of your singing journey?
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Barefoot Running
Today I'm going to talk about something different than singing. I'm going to talk about my first foray into running barefoot.
I think I wrote about my desire to try barefoot running in this blog at another time ("Singing With an Orchestra Running Barefoot"). I explained my belief that fitness and singing go hand-in-hand -- especially for the aging singer -- and how my first plan to get back into running -- something I loved many years ago -- ended in a big disappointing crash when I developed a debilitating case of plantar fasciitis.
When I was younger, I never had any running injuries. I ran miles and miles and was even blessed enough never to have encountered shin splints or any of the other bad running injuries. I wasn't very fast -- so maybe that was part of the reason, because I didn't push myself enough to get injuries -- but it also could be because I was young and involved in other activities and quite naturally flexible.
Many years have passed, and many an inactive person learns that these qualities of youth are short-lived and everything -- especially if one hasn't been paying attention during a long period of time -- gets stiff, creaky and more difficult.
Anyway, after several months of trying to bargain with the injury -- i.e. running more slowly, running less frequently, running shorter distance -- I finally admitted that in order to recover from my case of plantar fasciitis, I was going to have to just stop running for a while. This was very disappointing because I was so happy that I finally had taken the bull by the horns and committed myself to getting back out there, and was never more motivated than I had been in years, and the injury just threw me for a loop.
At first, I read all the conventional information about this type of injury and was self-treating with all that conventional wisdom. It has taken about six months to get my foot 90% better from this injury. For such a long time, I had terrible stabbing pain when taking that first twenty steps in the morning -- or when I had to stand for long periods of time -- or even walk the 15 minutes from the bus stop to my voice lesson, stand for an hour singing, and then walk back. I felt very demoralized by this pain, and also very frustrated that it kept me from proceeding with my plans to be a runner again -- or even a walker for that matter.
But due to having previously read a book (Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen Race by Christopher McDougall) that had been recommended on a friend's blog, I had been made aware that there are theories out there about our running shoes actually contributing to these type of injuries -- injuries like plantar fasciitis. In Born to Run, I read that we change our running form when we run in the supportive running shoes in such a way as to make us more susceptible to the gamut of potential running injuries.
This kind of made sense to me, and I wondered if some of that information would help my plantar fasciitis.
And so I began to read about barefoot running. I began to want to try it, but I was worried about a lot of things. One thing I was worried about was my weight. I thought my feet might not be able to support all my weight, and that I would have to lose at least 40 pounds before I would even think of trying barefoot running. That meant I would have to wait quite a while. I also thought that I didn't dare try this while my plantar fasciits was still unresolved.
But then I read on one of the barefoot running blogs that overweight people could build the strength in their feet to support their bodies, but that they had to start slowly and build the strength up carefully.
And I also read that running barefoot had actually proved a cure for plantar fasciitis in some barefoot runners. This was all anecdotal, but very interesting.
But still -- the sidewalks are dirty -- and, well -- I am just so genteel (lol) -- so I couldn't picture running out there where I walk my dog and see all the other doggies walking around, and see all the cigarette smokers flicking their ashes, and see all the people (ugh) spitting on the sidewalk.
So, as a compromise, I bought a pair of minimalist running shoes (Vibram Five Fingers KSOs) and began to acclimate my feet to walking about without all the cushioning, support, framework and motion control they were accustomed to having from my state-of-the-art, scientifically-formulated running shoes.
For the past couple of months, I have been loving the Vibrams and my feet have been growing gradually stronger in them and I have worked up to being able to run a mile in them.
But then a book came out. A new book about barefoot running: Barefoot Running: How to Run Light and Free by Getting in Touch with the Earth
, by Michael Sanlder. My pre-ordered copy arrived -- and -- I found out that the author of the book was holding a free barefoot running clinic in Central Park.
I attended the running clinic last week. We did arch-strengthening exercise. We ran on the grass and it felt so good. Amazingly good. I asked him some questions about barefoot running for people who were overweight and got some tips. But I still wasn't quite ready to get out there on the sidewalk with my bare feet.
Until today. I was reading once again about how one can do too much too soon running in minimalist shoes ("The Running Barefoot Blog: Beginning"), and that the real technique is learned in completely bare feet.
So ... I did it. I just went outside, walked up to the Boulevard, and ran about a quarter of a mile in my bare feet. It felt just wonderful. All the sensations from childhood came rushing back to me. I had a great feeling of everything being right.
One of the most amazing aspects of this switch to minimally supportive shoes and bare foot work, is that my plantar fasciitis has gone away almost completely. It definitely has not got a spec worse. I find this odd because much of the conventional medical advice about plantar fasciitis cautions a person suffering with PF to avoid going barefoot as much as possible. Could it be that the very act of going bare foot will be the right thing to strengthen the foot and help ease the stress that causes the injury?
I don't have answers at all. I find all the information about running bare foot very intriguing and I'm willing to cautiously experiment with it. My very beginning into experimenting with it are going very well so I am going to continue. My feet feel strong and happy, and even my knee and hip joints feel way less stress. But, as in all things, I will keep my finger on the pulse of the information out there, and if I should learn of anything that would cause me to think this would be harmful in any way I would cease. But my gut is telling me that all this is very good.
I really do plan to continue to use my minimalist shoes, but there is definitely going to be time spent getting my form down right in bare feet.
--------------------------------------------------------------
If you liked this post, check out the new blog I made later on: Barefoot Fresca
Also the follow up post: "More Barefoot Running"
I think I wrote about my desire to try barefoot running in this blog at another time ("Singing With an Orchestra Running Barefoot"). I explained my belief that fitness and singing go hand-in-hand -- especially for the aging singer -- and how my first plan to get back into running -- something I loved many years ago -- ended in a big disappointing crash when I developed a debilitating case of plantar fasciitis.
When I was younger, I never had any running injuries. I ran miles and miles and was even blessed enough never to have encountered shin splints or any of the other bad running injuries. I wasn't very fast -- so maybe that was part of the reason, because I didn't push myself enough to get injuries -- but it also could be because I was young and involved in other activities and quite naturally flexible.
Many years have passed, and many an inactive person learns that these qualities of youth are short-lived and everything -- especially if one hasn't been paying attention during a long period of time -- gets stiff, creaky and more difficult.
Anyway, after several months of trying to bargain with the injury -- i.e. running more slowly, running less frequently, running shorter distance -- I finally admitted that in order to recover from my case of plantar fasciitis, I was going to have to just stop running for a while. This was very disappointing because I was so happy that I finally had taken the bull by the horns and committed myself to getting back out there, and was never more motivated than I had been in years, and the injury just threw me for a loop.
At first, I read all the conventional information about this type of injury and was self-treating with all that conventional wisdom. It has taken about six months to get my foot 90% better from this injury. For such a long time, I had terrible stabbing pain when taking that first twenty steps in the morning -- or when I had to stand for long periods of time -- or even walk the 15 minutes from the bus stop to my voice lesson, stand for an hour singing, and then walk back. I felt very demoralized by this pain, and also very frustrated that it kept me from proceeding with my plans to be a runner again -- or even a walker for that matter.
But due to having previously read a book (Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen Race by Christopher McDougall) that had been recommended on a friend's blog, I had been made aware that there are theories out there about our running shoes actually contributing to these type of injuries -- injuries like plantar fasciitis. In Born to Run
, I read that we change our running form when we run in the supportive running shoes in such a way as to make us more susceptible to the gamut of potential running injuries.This kind of made sense to me, and I wondered if some of that information would help my plantar fasciitis.
And so I began to read about barefoot running. I began to want to try it, but I was worried about a lot of things. One thing I was worried about was my weight. I thought my feet might not be able to support all my weight, and that I would have to lose at least 40 pounds before I would even think of trying barefoot running. That meant I would have to wait quite a while. I also thought that I didn't dare try this while my plantar fasciits was still unresolved.
But then I read on one of the barefoot running blogs that overweight people could build the strength in their feet to support their bodies, but that they had to start slowly and build the strength up carefully.
And I also read that running barefoot had actually proved a cure for plantar fasciitis in some barefoot runners. This was all anecdotal, but very interesting.
But still -- the sidewalks are dirty -- and, well -- I am just so genteel (lol) -- so I couldn't picture running out there where I walk my dog and see all the other doggies walking around, and see all the cigarette smokers flicking their ashes, and see all the people (ugh) spitting on the sidewalk.
So, as a compromise, I bought a pair of minimalist running shoes (Vibram Five Fingers KSOs) and began to acclimate my feet to walking about without all the cushioning, support, framework and motion control they were accustomed to having from my state-of-the-art, scientifically-formulated running shoes.
For the past couple of months, I have been loving the Vibrams and my feet have been growing gradually stronger in them and I have worked up to being able to run a mile in them.
But then a book came out. A new book about barefoot running: Barefoot Running: How to Run Light and Free by Getting in Touch with the Earth
, by Michael Sanlder. My pre-ordered copy arrived -- and -- I found out that the author of the book was holding a free barefoot running clinic in Central Park.I attended the running clinic last week. We did arch-strengthening exercise. We ran on the grass and it felt so good. Amazingly good. I asked him some questions about barefoot running for people who were overweight and got some tips. But I still wasn't quite ready to get out there on the sidewalk with my bare feet.
Until today. I was reading once again about how one can do too much too soon running in minimalist shoes ("The Running Barefoot Blog: Beginning"), and that the real technique is learned in completely bare feet.
So ... I did it. I just went outside, walked up to the Boulevard, and ran about a quarter of a mile in my bare feet. It felt just wonderful. All the sensations from childhood came rushing back to me. I had a great feeling of everything being right.
One of the most amazing aspects of this switch to minimally supportive shoes and bare foot work, is that my plantar fasciitis has gone away almost completely. It definitely has not got a spec worse. I find this odd because much of the conventional medical advice about plantar fasciitis cautions a person suffering with PF to avoid going barefoot as much as possible. Could it be that the very act of going bare foot will be the right thing to strengthen the foot and help ease the stress that causes the injury?
I don't have answers at all. I find all the information about running bare foot very intriguing and I'm willing to cautiously experiment with it. My very beginning into experimenting with it are going very well so I am going to continue. My feet feel strong and happy, and even my knee and hip joints feel way less stress. But, as in all things, I will keep my finger on the pulse of the information out there, and if I should learn of anything that would cause me to think this would be harmful in any way I would cease. But my gut is telling me that all this is very good.
I really do plan to continue to use my minimalist shoes, but there is definitely going to be time spent getting my form down right in bare feet.
--------------------------------------------------------------
If you liked this post, check out the new blog I made later on: Barefoot Fresca
Also the follow up post: "More Barefoot Running"
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Singing With an Orchestra Running Barefoot
In my strange Avocational Singer mind, there is a connection between singing with an orchestra and running barefoot.
You've seen me make connections between singing and other subjects, and this one may seem like a stretch, but if your mind operated by the same sort of unusual logic that mine does, you would be able to make a connection between singing with an orchestra and running barefoot too.
Here's how my logic has connected the two:
I would love to sing with an orchestra some day. It has always been a fantasy of mine. I came close to that experience a few years ago when I sang the Pergolesi Stabat Mater with Cantigas Women's Choir. We had a little "orchestra" for that: A couple of violins, a double bass cello, an organ, and maybe a couple of other instruments. It was modest, but it was enough for me to get the feel of what a wonderful experience it was to sing with an instrumental ensemble. I have never forgotten how wonderful it was to have that experience, and, of course, I would hope to have it again.
I also wrote about my fantasy of this in a post a while back "Anatomy of a Dream."
If I was a young singer in my early 20s, to have a dream to sing something with an orchestra would seem like a reasonably attainable goal, something that might be accomplished without too much struggle. However, to have this as a goal for myself, at age 48, seems a more formidable task. Especially to have this as a goal at age 48 without having quite yet learned how to sing -- one little detail that seems a bit important to the quest -- well, that does seem to make it seem all the more out of reach.
Nevertheless, not believing that one should rule out possibilities, no matter what the obstacle may appear, I still carry a hope within my heart that I may accomplish this fantasy in some way or another.
Now, here's where I had to stop and take stock and figure out what need to happen in order for me to be able to sing with an orchestra. Here's where I had to look at strengths, limitations, realities, and come up with a plan.
First things first, of course, I would definitely need to be able to sing. I have not given up hope of finally figuring my voice out, even at this late stage of the game. So, lessons are a must, and an absolute dedication to daily training is a must. I cannot predict what success will come of that, but it seems to be heading in the right direction and I can only hope for the best as far as developing a voice with a good technique that can even be heard while singing with an orchestra.
But another thing I decided would be of great advantage was some sort of "fountain of youth." Yes, a "fountain of youth" would come in very handy indeed. You see, in order to avail myself of any opportunity to sing something with an orchestra, I might find myself in the position of having to compete for a spot with someone youthful, and youth could edge me out of any such opportunity. Unless I should come by a fortune from which I could hire myself an orchestra, it seems desirable to find some way to stem the tide of my own aging as I wait for my vocal technique to establish itself.
I looked around, and the closest I could come to finding a "fountain of youth" was exercise. An athletic opera singer friend of mine, Robin Flynn ("The Athletic Perfomer") just referred me today to an article in the New York Times on "How Exercising Keeps Our Cells Young", so incorporating an exercise plan seems like a reasonable move for a singer concerned with her age to include in her training regimen.
I was already working at Kung Fu, but I felt that I needed something aerobic. They say that if you are going to stick with an exercise program, you'll have more success if you find something you love to do.
Well, I've mentioned here that I love to run, so, after many many years of intending to get back to running, I had decided during this past year to begin again. To help myself along, I signed up for a 1/2 marathon. As I embarked on my 1/2 marathon training plan, I seemed to be well on my way to stemming the detrimental effects of aging, and keeping some of these effects somewhat at bay.
But a villain arrived on the scene -- the villain of an injury that has blocked me from my fountain -- plantar fasciitis. I was unable to complete my training for the 1/2 marathon, and am now in the process of healing this injury so that I can begin anew.
In my quest to find a way to heal my injury, I have stumbled upon information about running barefoot. (A favorite new blog: Running Barefoot) The people that run barefoot claim that our running injuries increased when we put on fancy running shoes that immobilize our feet. The theory makes sense to me that by putting on these running shoes, we deprived ourselves of the sensory nerve feedback from our bare feet, which is necessary in order to learn how to run with a form that protects us from injury.
I have read anecdotes of people using barefoot running to recover from plantar fasciitis, or at least find a way of running that prevents the injury from coming bak. I am dying to try this out. And I have made a resolution that I will give barefoot running a try soon.
So, to put it all together: I've decided that I really want to try barefoot running, so that I can begin training again for next year's race, so that I may preserve some aspects of youth, so that I may one day compete for a spot to sing with some orchestra somewhere in the future of my life.
That is really nutty logic, and some of the assumptions I've got in the train of thought have just got to be faulty, especially since there is no limit to what possibilities exist, and it can't predicted how or why or where I might have an opportunity to sing with an orchestra.
I mean, after all, isn't it hard enough just to learn to sing, without adding all these extra burdens?
But today, I think I may have found a way, finally, to have the experience of singing with an orchestra. I have discovered opera and oratorio karaoke! I have been having a blast downloading a few files from the itunes store today, and singing with real orchestral accompaniments.
I have been deeply moved by the experience of singing with these accompaniments. I am thinking that this may just satisfy my need to sing with an orchestra after all. Or at least, should I never arrive at an opportunity to sing with live instruments, I have something to cut the edge off any kind of disappointment about not being able to do this. It may just be the next best thing.
I still plan, as soon as my foot is a little better, to try out all the barefoot running stuff. But maybe not in order to have a "fountain of youth" after all, but just because I love running and the stuff I read about barefoot running is appealing to me. No pressure. Let singing be singing, and running be running.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Visit Frescamari's Practice Room to hear me singing some Opera Karaoke: "On a New Karaoke Kick: "Stride la vampa" -- "Mon coeur s'ouvre à ta voix" -- and "Voi che sapete"
You've seen me make connections between singing and other subjects, and this one may seem like a stretch, but if your mind operated by the same sort of unusual logic that mine does, you would be able to make a connection between singing with an orchestra and running barefoot too.
Here's how my logic has connected the two:
I would love to sing with an orchestra some day. It has always been a fantasy of mine. I came close to that experience a few years ago when I sang the Pergolesi Stabat Mater with Cantigas Women's Choir. We had a little "orchestra" for that: A couple of violins, a double bass cello, an organ, and maybe a couple of other instruments. It was modest, but it was enough for me to get the feel of what a wonderful experience it was to sing with an instrumental ensemble. I have never forgotten how wonderful it was to have that experience, and, of course, I would hope to have it again.
I also wrote about my fantasy of this in a post a while back "Anatomy of a Dream."
If I was a young singer in my early 20s, to have a dream to sing something with an orchestra would seem like a reasonably attainable goal, something that might be accomplished without too much struggle. However, to have this as a goal for myself, at age 48, seems a more formidable task. Especially to have this as a goal at age 48 without having quite yet learned how to sing -- one little detail that seems a bit important to the quest -- well, that does seem to make it seem all the more out of reach.
Nevertheless, not believing that one should rule out possibilities, no matter what the obstacle may appear, I still carry a hope within my heart that I may accomplish this fantasy in some way or another.
Now, here's where I had to stop and take stock and figure out what need to happen in order for me to be able to sing with an orchestra. Here's where I had to look at strengths, limitations, realities, and come up with a plan.
First things first, of course, I would definitely need to be able to sing. I have not given up hope of finally figuring my voice out, even at this late stage of the game. So, lessons are a must, and an absolute dedication to daily training is a must. I cannot predict what success will come of that, but it seems to be heading in the right direction and I can only hope for the best as far as developing a voice with a good technique that can even be heard while singing with an orchestra.
But another thing I decided would be of great advantage was some sort of "fountain of youth." Yes, a "fountain of youth" would come in very handy indeed. You see, in order to avail myself of any opportunity to sing something with an orchestra, I might find myself in the position of having to compete for a spot with someone youthful, and youth could edge me out of any such opportunity. Unless I should come by a fortune from which I could hire myself an orchestra, it seems desirable to find some way to stem the tide of my own aging as I wait for my vocal technique to establish itself.
I looked around, and the closest I could come to finding a "fountain of youth" was exercise. An athletic opera singer friend of mine, Robin Flynn ("The Athletic Perfomer") just referred me today to an article in the New York Times on "How Exercising Keeps Our Cells Young", so incorporating an exercise plan seems like a reasonable move for a singer concerned with her age to include in her training regimen.
I was already working at Kung Fu, but I felt that I needed something aerobic. They say that if you are going to stick with an exercise program, you'll have more success if you find something you love to do.
Well, I've mentioned here that I love to run, so, after many many years of intending to get back to running, I had decided during this past year to begin again. To help myself along, I signed up for a 1/2 marathon. As I embarked on my 1/2 marathon training plan, I seemed to be well on my way to stemming the detrimental effects of aging, and keeping some of these effects somewhat at bay.
But a villain arrived on the scene -- the villain of an injury that has blocked me from my fountain -- plantar fasciitis. I was unable to complete my training for the 1/2 marathon, and am now in the process of healing this injury so that I can begin anew.
In my quest to find a way to heal my injury, I have stumbled upon information about running barefoot. (A favorite new blog: Running Barefoot) The people that run barefoot claim that our running injuries increased when we put on fancy running shoes that immobilize our feet. The theory makes sense to me that by putting on these running shoes, we deprived ourselves of the sensory nerve feedback from our bare feet, which is necessary in order to learn how to run with a form that protects us from injury.
I have read anecdotes of people using barefoot running to recover from plantar fasciitis, or at least find a way of running that prevents the injury from coming bak. I am dying to try this out. And I have made a resolution that I will give barefoot running a try soon.
So, to put it all together: I've decided that I really want to try barefoot running, so that I can begin training again for next year's race, so that I may preserve some aspects of youth, so that I may one day compete for a spot to sing with some orchestra somewhere in the future of my life.
That is really nutty logic, and some of the assumptions I've got in the train of thought have just got to be faulty, especially since there is no limit to what possibilities exist, and it can't predicted how or why or where I might have an opportunity to sing with an orchestra.
I mean, after all, isn't it hard enough just to learn to sing, without adding all these extra burdens?
But today, I think I may have found a way, finally, to have the experience of singing with an orchestra. I have discovered opera and oratorio karaoke! I have been having a blast downloading a few files from the itunes store today, and singing with real orchestral accompaniments.
I have been deeply moved by the experience of singing with these accompaniments. I am thinking that this may just satisfy my need to sing with an orchestra after all. Or at least, should I never arrive at an opportunity to sing with live instruments, I have something to cut the edge off any kind of disappointment about not being able to do this. It may just be the next best thing.
I still plan, as soon as my foot is a little better, to try out all the barefoot running stuff. But maybe not in order to have a "fountain of youth" after all, but just because I love running and the stuff I read about barefoot running is appealing to me. No pressure. Let singing be singing, and running be running.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Visit Frescamari's Practice Room to hear me singing some Opera Karaoke: "On a New Karaoke Kick: "Stride la vampa" -- "Mon coeur s'ouvre à ta voix" -- and "Voi che sapete"
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
I Love Kung Fu
What do Kung Fu and singing have to do with each other? Well, for me ... a lot!!
When I watch a singer, I don't care so much about the issue of body size or shape. But there is something I care about. I need the person who is performing to be able to move with a certain amount of grace and ease. I believe that physical conditioning of the body affects the singing itself, but in addition, the physical conditioning of the body makes a difference in the way the energy of the singer comes across from the stage or singing platform, and how it reads to the listener. Even when a singer is just standing and singing, I believe that physical conditioning helps them to appear well as they stand before the audience. As an audience member listening to a singer, I am having a bit of a kinetic experience of that performer, so I feel it if they seem tired, or their feet are hurting. It breaks the spell of the music for the singer to be showing any signs that they are experiencing physical strain or discomfort. or fatigue.
Well, according to these preferences of mine, I believe I should be getting myself in condition for singing. A lot of singers believe he same thing and there are many forms of physical activities that can keep a singer's body in good condition for performing.
I heard this over they years, and now that I have experienced it, I believe it wholeheartedly: You will be successful with exercise and fitness if you find an activity you love.
Well, I found an activity I love in what for me was an unlikely place ... Kung Fu!
When I was growing up, I belonged to a family who valued fitness. We were very active. We went on family bike rides, went once a week for family swim at a YMCA that we belonged to. We golfed together. My Dad put a chin-up bar in the doorway for his four daughters, and I often found him doing pushups in the living room. We were enrolled in gymnastics classes and encouraged to play sports in school.
But something happened after I got married and had my first child. I gained a tremendous amount of weight - over 100 pounds. I weighed 270 pounds at one point. The most horrible thing about it was that I also had abandoned movement. It was really scary losing all that ability of my body. I couldn't even bend over to tie my shoes. My feet and joints hurt constantly, especially when I was trying to fall asleep at night. I experienced shortness of breath when climbing stairs. It felt really awful.
As so often happens, it is through the love of our children that good things come to us. I really wanted my daughter to have the wonderful experience of being active and fit that I had when I was young. Yet, I didn't want to just dump her in some class and say, "here, do this physical activity, it's good for you." I wanted her to see me enjoying movement as well. So, I began to look for some kind of mother/daughter fitness activity we could participate in together. I had in mind something like ice-skating, or some kind of yoga class or something. I never would have thought that it would be mother/daughter fighting!
My daughter brought the idea of Kung Fu to me. Her friend, and her friend's mother were taking Kung Fu class together. I barely knew what Kung Fu was. I knew it was some kind of martial art, but didn't know how it was different from the karate my son had taken. I looked at the school, and decided we could pair up and do it with the other mother.daughter team who we were friends with. Why not?
At first, I thought it was kind of pretty. I had taken ballet when I was in college and really loved it, so I saw the whole thing as something kind of pretty, like dance. It was a good workout. I could consider it an exercise class.
Even though I had dropped down from 270 pounds, I still was large, and starting from a de-conditioned state was very difficult for me. There were many times, while performing the conditioning exercises, that the instructors would look over at my very red face and my huffing and puffing and ask with great concern "Mrs. Frescamari, are you okay?"
It took me a whole year to realize that I was learning to fight! Me? Learning to fight!! I never fought anyone in my life. In fact, I avoid any kind of conflict. A girl once bullied me by telling everyone in the school she was going to beat me up. I was terrified during that period of my life, and even took to walking to school because I was afraid to meet that girl at the bus stop.
Well, my conditioning has improved beyond my wildest dreams. I am still one of the "slow" ones in the class. Even though I have moved up to the advanced class, I see many people with lower belts and intermediate level who are way more fit and conditioned than I am.
I have learned, first and foremost from this experience, however, NOT to compare myself. I focus on "intention" not "results" (as a fellow singer-friend says it). I work at my level and work on what I need.
We have even had the opportunity to get up and perform the Kung Fu in front of each other, which is helping me overcome stage fright, and helping me to acquire stage presence, stuff that is valuable to people who like to get up and sing in front of people.
Here is me doing Long Fist II. If you want to see more of it, you can go to Frescamari's Practice Room for some silly stuff -- like the outtakes.
When I watch a singer, I don't care so much about the issue of body size or shape. But there is something I care about. I need the person who is performing to be able to move with a certain amount of grace and ease. I believe that physical conditioning of the body affects the singing itself, but in addition, the physical conditioning of the body makes a difference in the way the energy of the singer comes across from the stage or singing platform, and how it reads to the listener. Even when a singer is just standing and singing, I believe that physical conditioning helps them to appear well as they stand before the audience. As an audience member listening to a singer, I am having a bit of a kinetic experience of that performer, so I feel it if they seem tired, or their feet are hurting. It breaks the spell of the music for the singer to be showing any signs that they are experiencing physical strain or discomfort. or fatigue.
Well, according to these preferences of mine, I believe I should be getting myself in condition for singing. A lot of singers believe he same thing and there are many forms of physical activities that can keep a singer's body in good condition for performing.
I heard this over they years, and now that I have experienced it, I believe it wholeheartedly: You will be successful with exercise and fitness if you find an activity you love.
Well, I found an activity I love in what for me was an unlikely place ... Kung Fu!
When I was growing up, I belonged to a family who valued fitness. We were very active. We went on family bike rides, went once a week for family swim at a YMCA that we belonged to. We golfed together. My Dad put a chin-up bar in the doorway for his four daughters, and I often found him doing pushups in the living room. We were enrolled in gymnastics classes and encouraged to play sports in school.
But something happened after I got married and had my first child. I gained a tremendous amount of weight - over 100 pounds. I weighed 270 pounds at one point. The most horrible thing about it was that I also had abandoned movement. It was really scary losing all that ability of my body. I couldn't even bend over to tie my shoes. My feet and joints hurt constantly, especially when I was trying to fall asleep at night. I experienced shortness of breath when climbing stairs. It felt really awful.
As so often happens, it is through the love of our children that good things come to us. I really wanted my daughter to have the wonderful experience of being active and fit that I had when I was young. Yet, I didn't want to just dump her in some class and say, "here, do this physical activity, it's good for you." I wanted her to see me enjoying movement as well. So, I began to look for some kind of mother/daughter fitness activity we could participate in together. I had in mind something like ice-skating, or some kind of yoga class or something. I never would have thought that it would be mother/daughter fighting!
My daughter brought the idea of Kung Fu to me. Her friend, and her friend's mother were taking Kung Fu class together. I barely knew what Kung Fu was. I knew it was some kind of martial art, but didn't know how it was different from the karate my son had taken. I looked at the school, and decided we could pair up and do it with the other mother.daughter team who we were friends with. Why not?
At first, I thought it was kind of pretty. I had taken ballet when I was in college and really loved it, so I saw the whole thing as something kind of pretty, like dance. It was a good workout. I could consider it an exercise class.
Even though I had dropped down from 270 pounds, I still was large, and starting from a de-conditioned state was very difficult for me. There were many times, while performing the conditioning exercises, that the instructors would look over at my very red face and my huffing and puffing and ask with great concern "Mrs. Frescamari, are you okay?"
It took me a whole year to realize that I was learning to fight! Me? Learning to fight!! I never fought anyone in my life. In fact, I avoid any kind of conflict. A girl once bullied me by telling everyone in the school she was going to beat me up. I was terrified during that period of my life, and even took to walking to school because I was afraid to meet that girl at the bus stop.
Well, my conditioning has improved beyond my wildest dreams. I am still one of the "slow" ones in the class. Even though I have moved up to the advanced class, I see many people with lower belts and intermediate level who are way more fit and conditioned than I am.
I have learned, first and foremost from this experience, however, NOT to compare myself. I focus on "intention" not "results" (as a fellow singer-friend says it). I work at my level and work on what I need.
We have even had the opportunity to get up and perform the Kung Fu in front of each other, which is helping me overcome stage fright, and helping me to acquire stage presence, stuff that is valuable to people who like to get up and sing in front of people.
Here is me doing Long Fist II. If you want to see more of it, you can go to Frescamari's Practice Room for some silly stuff -- like the outtakes.
Friday, October 23, 2009
20-Mile Arias
"I can't believe that I can write 'easy' and '20 miles' in the same sentence..." An opera singer friend of mine, Robin Flynn, starts her latest blog post, "Yesterday's Weirdly Easy 20 Miles," with this exclamation. Besides possessing a beautiful mezzo-soprano voice, she is an amazing athlete, who is dedicated to helping singers develop athleticism in all other areas of their life because she is convinced this athleticism is beneficial to singing ... and as you all have read here, I agree with her.
Robin is taking her athleticism to heights. She is a triathlete, and she has recently decided to run one marathon a month for charity. She just keeps going and growing and developing as an uber-athlete and I'm having a vicarious thrill as she describes her workouts each day. She is filled with a joyful enthusiasm and passion that is so catchy.
But I have realized that her experience of being being able to run 20 miles is similar to the kind of excitement a singer such as myself will feel as I experience being able to sing longer, more difficult arias for longer amounts of time.
"I've never been able to maintain that level of consistency for that long," Robin exclaims.
And more and more I have been able to exclaim this about pieces of music that just seemed unapproachable to me for many years.
I do wish I had realized that the day would indeed come when I would be able to sing challenging songs. When I was young, my teacher would hand me a song, you'll often hear me tell you, and say something like "this will be just perfect for you!" I would take the song home and try to learn it and I would struggle and huff and puff, and get a throat all tied up in weird knots on the high parts, and think, "what is she, nuts? How does she think I could ever sing something like this?"
My experience was not unlike the person who sees all those people running along the sidewalks outside every day. They wonder why anyone would be so crazy as to do anything as uncomforable as get all winded and sweaty and experience pain like that. Yet, not being able to resist the lure of the way runners are so enthusiastic and happy about their running, the person decided to give it a try.
Well, the would-be new runner experiences their first little jog as sheer agony and decides running is a ridiculous pursuit. She quits, thinking the runners out there are just gluttons for punishment and pain, or simply plain-old crazy.
Well, I truly did not understand, even though it was being explained to me, that singing through a new aria was like the experience of that person going out for their first run.. Running can become effortless, if one patiently and consistently devotes one's self to it. Every runner who has gotten to that point knows it.
But, as incredibly dumb as this seems, it took me a a really long time to figure out that this was true about singing as well.
Now I understand this. Yesterday, I saw in my binder a piece of music that my first singing teacher handed to me one day at my lesson over 20 years ago: "Voi lo sapete," by Pietro Mascagni, from the opera Cavalleria Rusticana. I remember her saying with great feeling that it would be so perfect for me. She said it like a fairy godmother who was picking out the dress her godchild would wear to the ball.
But when I took a look at the song, I did not understand it, and I did not like it and I could not sing it. I abandoned it before having given it a fair try. Why? Because it seemed impossible to me. It seemed like I would never be able to sing it. It seemed as ridiculous as the thought of going out and running 20 miles.
So yesterday, as I stared at he faded yellowing paper of the song I had been handed so many years go, I remembered that moment when it was handed to me, and, like so much of that first teacher's wisdom that is coming back to me now, I thought to myself, "I should take a look at this. Phyllis turned out to be so right about so much. Maybe she was right about this too."
I like to figure out a song from scratch before I hear it. So, I sat down and plunked out the song on the piano. The vocal line was not making any sense to me outside the context of the whole song, so I began to work on the accompaniment, so I could feel how it fit into the harmonies. There were a couple of very beautiful lines that appealed to me right away, and may even be known to me (perhaps I have heard this song; most likely have; it's quite famous). But parts of it were not making sense yet.
Well, that magic of what happens overnight, when your brain processes music while you're sleeping, seems to have occurred. When I approached the piano this morning, the binder was still open there to the spot where I'd left it. I had moments before been inspired by reading a post on my singer's message board (NFCS) about the singer's formant, and I was getting that ring in my voice this morning very naturally and easily. I didn't even have to warm up.
I started singing the Voi lo sapete and my voice was slipping into it like a hand slips into a custom made glove.
I love this song! This song is perfect for me! Phyllis was right! (Twirls around in beautiful ball gown.)
Now this song is pretty well known to opera singers and opera aficionados. It's not some elusive, rare find. It's a pretty standard piece. But to me, it is new!! I am like a young girl, who, well, to whom everything in this musical world is fresh and new. Discovering with amazement and wonder some of these things for the first time. Savoring it! Taking nothing for granted! Maybe this is why technique eluded me for so many years, in order for me to have this fresh exciting experience at an age when it's hard not to be jaded? Beginning to finally have some technique has opened up some doors to songs like this.
Okay, this is not really a 20-mile aria. It may be more like a 5-mile aria, but to me, the beginning runner, 5 miles appeared as daunting as 20 miles when first starting out.
Alas, I cannot give you a recording today of my work on this piece, my first day. I really wanted to record it, to show what it's like on the first day. But I dropped my beloved and indispensable Edirol R09 recorder two days ago and it got smashed beyond repair. I have just received it's replacement, the upgraded Edirol R-09 HR, in the mail a few minutes ago. (By the way, Chris, at Sound Professionals, gave me amazing customer service when I went to order the new recorder).
But I most certainly shall be learning this song. In fact, I want to go look at all those songs Phyllis tried to give me back then. I want to complete them. It feels like a bit of unfinished business in my life, and, as I've mentioned before, I don't like unfinished business.
When I produce a recording, I'll post it on this page, so check back.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
10/26/09 Okay click here for First Try at Voi lo sapete
10/28/09 Click here for Putting the Words on Voi lo sapete (working on the ballgown)
Robin is taking her athleticism to heights. She is a triathlete, and she has recently decided to run one marathon a month for charity. She just keeps going and growing and developing as an uber-athlete and I'm having a vicarious thrill as she describes her workouts each day. She is filled with a joyful enthusiasm and passion that is so catchy.
But I have realized that her experience of being being able to run 20 miles is similar to the kind of excitement a singer such as myself will feel as I experience being able to sing longer, more difficult arias for longer amounts of time.
"I've never been able to maintain that level of consistency for that long," Robin exclaims.
And more and more I have been able to exclaim this about pieces of music that just seemed unapproachable to me for many years.
I do wish I had realized that the day would indeed come when I would be able to sing challenging songs. When I was young, my teacher would hand me a song, you'll often hear me tell you, and say something like "this will be just perfect for you!" I would take the song home and try to learn it and I would struggle and huff and puff, and get a throat all tied up in weird knots on the high parts, and think, "what is she, nuts? How does she think I could ever sing something like this?"
My experience was not unlike the person who sees all those people running along the sidewalks outside every day. They wonder why anyone would be so crazy as to do anything as uncomforable as get all winded and sweaty and experience pain like that. Yet, not being able to resist the lure of the way runners are so enthusiastic and happy about their running, the person decided to give it a try.
Well, the would-be new runner experiences their first little jog as sheer agony and decides running is a ridiculous pursuit. She quits, thinking the runners out there are just gluttons for punishment and pain, or simply plain-old crazy.
Well, I truly did not understand, even though it was being explained to me, that singing through a new aria was like the experience of that person going out for their first run.. Running can become effortless, if one patiently and consistently devotes one's self to it. Every runner who has gotten to that point knows it.
But, as incredibly dumb as this seems, it took me a a really long time to figure out that this was true about singing as well.
Now I understand this. Yesterday, I saw in my binder a piece of music that my first singing teacher handed to me one day at my lesson over 20 years ago: "Voi lo sapete," by Pietro Mascagni, from the opera Cavalleria Rusticana. I remember her saying with great feeling that it would be so perfect for me. She said it like a fairy godmother who was picking out the dress her godchild would wear to the ball.
But when I took a look at the song, I did not understand it, and I did not like it and I could not sing it. I abandoned it before having given it a fair try. Why? Because it seemed impossible to me. It seemed like I would never be able to sing it. It seemed as ridiculous as the thought of going out and running 20 miles.
So yesterday, as I stared at he faded yellowing paper of the song I had been handed so many years go, I remembered that moment when it was handed to me, and, like so much of that first teacher's wisdom that is coming back to me now, I thought to myself, "I should take a look at this. Phyllis turned out to be so right about so much. Maybe she was right about this too."
I like to figure out a song from scratch before I hear it. So, I sat down and plunked out the song on the piano. The vocal line was not making any sense to me outside the context of the whole song, so I began to work on the accompaniment, so I could feel how it fit into the harmonies. There were a couple of very beautiful lines that appealed to me right away, and may even be known to me (perhaps I have heard this song; most likely have; it's quite famous). But parts of it were not making sense yet.
Well, that magic of what happens overnight, when your brain processes music while you're sleeping, seems to have occurred. When I approached the piano this morning, the binder was still open there to the spot where I'd left it. I had moments before been inspired by reading a post on my singer's message board (NFCS) about the singer's formant, and I was getting that ring in my voice this morning very naturally and easily. I didn't even have to warm up.
I started singing the Voi lo sapete and my voice was slipping into it like a hand slips into a custom made glove.
I love this song! This song is perfect for me! Phyllis was right! (Twirls around in beautiful ball gown.)
Now this song is pretty well known to opera singers and opera aficionados. It's not some elusive, rare find. It's a pretty standard piece. But to me, it is new!! I am like a young girl, who, well, to whom everything in this musical world is fresh and new. Discovering with amazement and wonder some of these things for the first time. Savoring it! Taking nothing for granted! Maybe this is why technique eluded me for so many years, in order for me to have this fresh exciting experience at an age when it's hard not to be jaded? Beginning to finally have some technique has opened up some doors to songs like this.
Okay, this is not really a 20-mile aria. It may be more like a 5-mile aria, but to me, the beginning runner, 5 miles appeared as daunting as 20 miles when first starting out.
Alas, I cannot give you a recording today of my work on this piece, my first day. I really wanted to record it, to show what it's like on the first day. But I dropped my beloved and indispensable Edirol R09 recorder two days ago and it got smashed beyond repair. I have just received it's replacement, the upgraded Edirol R-09 HR, in the mail a few minutes ago. (By the way, Chris, at Sound Professionals, gave me amazing customer service when I went to order the new recorder).
But I most certainly shall be learning this song. In fact, I want to go look at all those songs Phyllis tried to give me back then. I want to complete them. It feels like a bit of unfinished business in my life, and, as I've mentioned before, I don't like unfinished business.
When I produce a recording, I'll post it on this page, so check back.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
10/26/09 Okay click here for First Try at Voi lo sapete
10/28/09 Click here for Putting the Words on Voi lo sapete (working on the ballgown)
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Training Method for Singers
As so often happens to me, I find instruction for singing in what seems like an unlikely place. For my birthday a couple of weeks ago, my sister gave me the book No Need for Speed: A Beginner's Guide to the Joy of Running by John "The Penguin" Bingham.
As I read through one chapter in particular from this book,"Method or Madness," which describes the principles involved in running training, I immediately begin to draw parallels and see if I can apply some of these principles to vocal training.
Before laying down 4 principles of training for running, which I will outline further on in this blog post, Mr. Bingham begins by explaining how most beginners make the mistake of adopting the training method of thinking that if they just try harder, put in greater effort, they will improve. This is their basic approach to getting better at running, and I can see how this is the approach I used for so many years towards trying to improve vocally.
Take high notes, for example. Each time I "tried" to sing a high C, I thought that maybe I just hadn't mustered up enough effort. That I had to try a little harder each time to get it.
And I used a similar strategy in an attempt to acquire some resonance and ring. I thought that I had to try harder to make the sound I wanted. I would stand there for an hour trying to make the sound I thought I wanted.
The result of all this greater effort was sometimes a hoarse voice for the rest of the day.
I didn't understand that the real way I was going to get that high C and the real way I was going to acquire that "ring" in my voice was to set up an intelligent and methodical training plan based on certain principles, and grow it through patience and consistency of training, just like the athlete does. That I was going to "grow" my high notes and my resonance and ring, like a beautiful fruits that appear on trees that I started from planting seeds. That it was going to result from a routine, almost mundane, kind of regularly scheduled practice. That it was going to "appear" on the scene after a period of time and just surprise me as it crept into my physique. That it wasn't going to appear spectacularly with a big "tada," but was going to come in a quiet gradual way, first as small buds, then tiny green fruit, then enlarging and ripening. That it was going to become a part of who I was and what I could do, molded into me by the daily reality that I was a singer and that this is the way I spent my time every day.
When a singer sets up this routine, almost mundane, regularly scheduled practice, the intelligence by which it is approached is important. I would like to use the principles used to train a runner, as outlined in the book mentioned above, to explore how a program to train the voice might be devised.
John Bingham describes 4 components of training:
Mode
Intensity
Duration
Frequency
Experimenting and balancing these four modes will produce the right training plan for the individual runner, and, I believe, the individual singer as well.
Mode: For the singer, this will be what kind of materials will be used during the training session. Will the singer be using exercises and scales? Whose exercises and scales? The ones the teacher provides, or from friends or books? Will the singer use songs? Which songs? What level of training is the singer? Will they use popular songs, songs from the 24 Italian standards, Broadway tunes? If they have a dramatic voice will they use dramatic arias, or arias that prepare them for the work they will do later? A runner who goes out and runs the same 3-mile route every day might maintain a certain jogger's level of running, but but does not have the advantage that hills, varied scenery, different running surfaces will provide in determining just what kind of runner is being made. What is the potential of the individual? Will he/she be a trail runner? A 5Ker, a marathoner, an ultra marathoner, a triathlete? The singer has these varied options as well. A nightclub singer, a choral singer, Broadway belter, early music, oratorio, opera?
Intensity: Intensity means stressing the system a little bit to stimulate it to grow. For a singer, intensity might mean volume, or how much pressure is applied. Intensity might mean speed, how fast they will be singing. Intensity might mean how high they will be singing. Intensity might mean where the tessitura lies. I often feel like I did not improve for so many years because I did not up the intensity level of my singing for fear of injury or harming my voice. While a singer, like the runner, has to be careful to find just how much intensity work to include in training, in order to grow stronger and faster this kind of work needs to be accomplished, not feared. But it needs to be done at the right time in the right way, and in a balanced way for the individual.
Duration: Duration is how long the practice session will be. While discussing these components of training, John Bingham writes that there is a relationship between this "duration" and "intensity." Workouts of greater intensity should be shorter, and lesser intensity can be longer. This balance has to be found for each individual and will be different based on the experience level of the athlete. And for the singer as well. A short workout for the high-developed opera singer is going to take more time than a short workout for the beginner.
Duration can be more than just how many minutes the practice session is. Duration can apply to how long a song is. A 1-minute song, a 2-minute song, a 3-minute song, etc...
Duration can also apply to how long the phrases are.
I know that as I train for my first 1/2 marathon this coming January, I include one "long run" per week, and the other two 30-minute runs supposedly maintain the gains of my long run day. I started my "long run" at just 1 mile, which did not take me very long to run, and have been increasing that run by 1/2 a mile per week. The recommendation is not to increase your long run by more than 10% per week. I am now up to six miles, which really is long.
Should this apply to singing training as well? One day where you sing for a long time? One day where you work on getting through your longest piece? One day where you sing beyond the amount of time that you usually sing. Is there a "rule of thumb" for how much to increase the duration of one's singing, like the 10% rule in running? Do any teachers know how much to increase, or how to tell if a singer is increasing too much too soon?
And what, like the two 30-minute runs per week, maintains the level of singing one has achieved? Do any voice teachers out there know what balance a singer should maintain in this kind of vocal training, and can they help their students understand, or help their students build a training program that will be optimal?
Frequency: The final principle to explore is that of frequency, how often to practice. Deciding the frequency will have to factor in duration and intensity, mostly because of the fact that it is necessary to have recovery time after working out. The muscles grow and adapt, build and repair during recovery time. Recovery and rest is an important part of athletic training, and I believe it is part of the process of vocal training as well. It is almost as if the muscles use the rest time to "think" about what happened during the training session, absorb what has been asked of them, and adapt themselves to the task they had been given. So the frequency of training has to take into account how much rest time is needed. An athlete will need more recovery time after an intense training session, as opposed to a maintenance session. An athlete will need more recovery time after a session designed to increase endurance, one of longer duration. Recovery time will vary between beginner and advanced athlete. It will vary according to age, and will also vary from individual to individual. Finding one's personal recovery time will be part of this art.
One lament that I have is understanding these principles really late in the game for a singer. I am sure there are teachers out there who understand what needs to be done and can coach these principles in their students, but I think more teachers need to study these things and help young singers understand the job they need to do to train their voices. If I had this kind of training when I was younger, I think I would have had many more options.
I am very excited and happy now, however, to know of them. Better late than never at all, and I will use the time I have left to train in a better way and enjoy my voice better than ever.
As I read through one chapter in particular from this book,"Method or Madness," which describes the principles involved in running training, I immediately begin to draw parallels and see if I can apply some of these principles to vocal training.
Before laying down 4 principles of training for running, which I will outline further on in this blog post, Mr. Bingham begins by explaining how most beginners make the mistake of adopting the training method of thinking that if they just try harder, put in greater effort, they will improve. This is their basic approach to getting better at running, and I can see how this is the approach I used for so many years towards trying to improve vocally.
Take high notes, for example. Each time I "tried" to sing a high C, I thought that maybe I just hadn't mustered up enough effort. That I had to try a little harder each time to get it.
And I used a similar strategy in an attempt to acquire some resonance and ring. I thought that I had to try harder to make the sound I wanted. I would stand there for an hour trying to make the sound I thought I wanted.
The result of all this greater effort was sometimes a hoarse voice for the rest of the day.
I didn't understand that the real way I was going to get that high C and the real way I was going to acquire that "ring" in my voice was to set up an intelligent and methodical training plan based on certain principles, and grow it through patience and consistency of training, just like the athlete does. That I was going to "grow" my high notes and my resonance and ring, like a beautiful fruits that appear on trees that I started from planting seeds. That it was going to result from a routine, almost mundane, kind of regularly scheduled practice. That it was going to "appear" on the scene after a period of time and just surprise me as it crept into my physique. That it wasn't going to appear spectacularly with a big "tada," but was going to come in a quiet gradual way, first as small buds, then tiny green fruit, then enlarging and ripening. That it was going to become a part of who I was and what I could do, molded into me by the daily reality that I was a singer and that this is the way I spent my time every day.
When a singer sets up this routine, almost mundane, regularly scheduled practice, the intelligence by which it is approached is important. I would like to use the principles used to train a runner, as outlined in the book mentioned above, to explore how a program to train the voice might be devised.
John Bingham describes 4 components of training:
Mode
Intensity
Duration
Frequency
Experimenting and balancing these four modes will produce the right training plan for the individual runner, and, I believe, the individual singer as well.
Mode: For the singer, this will be what kind of materials will be used during the training session. Will the singer be using exercises and scales? Whose exercises and scales? The ones the teacher provides, or from friends or books? Will the singer use songs? Which songs? What level of training is the singer? Will they use popular songs, songs from the 24 Italian standards, Broadway tunes? If they have a dramatic voice will they use dramatic arias, or arias that prepare them for the work they will do later? A runner who goes out and runs the same 3-mile route every day might maintain a certain jogger's level of running, but but does not have the advantage that hills, varied scenery, different running surfaces will provide in determining just what kind of runner is being made. What is the potential of the individual? Will he/she be a trail runner? A 5Ker, a marathoner, an ultra marathoner, a triathlete? The singer has these varied options as well. A nightclub singer, a choral singer, Broadway belter, early music, oratorio, opera?
Intensity: Intensity means stressing the system a little bit to stimulate it to grow. For a singer, intensity might mean volume, or how much pressure is applied. Intensity might mean speed, how fast they will be singing. Intensity might mean how high they will be singing. Intensity might mean where the tessitura lies. I often feel like I did not improve for so many years because I did not up the intensity level of my singing for fear of injury or harming my voice. While a singer, like the runner, has to be careful to find just how much intensity work to include in training, in order to grow stronger and faster this kind of work needs to be accomplished, not feared. But it needs to be done at the right time in the right way, and in a balanced way for the individual.
Duration: Duration is how long the practice session will be. While discussing these components of training, John Bingham writes that there is a relationship between this "duration" and "intensity." Workouts of greater intensity should be shorter, and lesser intensity can be longer. This balance has to be found for each individual and will be different based on the experience level of the athlete. And for the singer as well. A short workout for the high-developed opera singer is going to take more time than a short workout for the beginner.
Duration can be more than just how many minutes the practice session is. Duration can apply to how long a song is. A 1-minute song, a 2-minute song, a 3-minute song, etc...
Duration can also apply to how long the phrases are.
I know that as I train for my first 1/2 marathon this coming January, I include one "long run" per week, and the other two 30-minute runs supposedly maintain the gains of my long run day. I started my "long run" at just 1 mile, which did not take me very long to run, and have been increasing that run by 1/2 a mile per week. The recommendation is not to increase your long run by more than 10% per week. I am now up to six miles, which really is long.
Should this apply to singing training as well? One day where you sing for a long time? One day where you work on getting through your longest piece? One day where you sing beyond the amount of time that you usually sing. Is there a "rule of thumb" for how much to increase the duration of one's singing, like the 10% rule in running? Do any teachers know how much to increase, or how to tell if a singer is increasing too much too soon?
And what, like the two 30-minute runs per week, maintains the level of singing one has achieved? Do any voice teachers out there know what balance a singer should maintain in this kind of vocal training, and can they help their students understand, or help their students build a training program that will be optimal?
Frequency: The final principle to explore is that of frequency, how often to practice. Deciding the frequency will have to factor in duration and intensity, mostly because of the fact that it is necessary to have recovery time after working out. The muscles grow and adapt, build and repair during recovery time. Recovery and rest is an important part of athletic training, and I believe it is part of the process of vocal training as well. It is almost as if the muscles use the rest time to "think" about what happened during the training session, absorb what has been asked of them, and adapt themselves to the task they had been given. So the frequency of training has to take into account how much rest time is needed. An athlete will need more recovery time after an intense training session, as opposed to a maintenance session. An athlete will need more recovery time after a session designed to increase endurance, one of longer duration. Recovery time will vary between beginner and advanced athlete. It will vary according to age, and will also vary from individual to individual. Finding one's personal recovery time will be part of this art.
One lament that I have is understanding these principles really late in the game for a singer. I am sure there are teachers out there who understand what needs to be done and can coach these principles in their students, but I think more teachers need to study these things and help young singers understand the job they need to do to train their voices. If I had this kind of training when I was younger, I think I would have had many more options.
I am very excited and happy now, however, to know of them. Better late than never at all, and I will use the time I have left to train in a better way and enjoy my voice better than ever.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
What is "Natural?"
I recently was given the following to take into consideration:
that it might not be advisable to mess with "your natural way of running" and that seems to be the majority opinion about how to run, and the way the majority does it.
This suggestion was offered to me in response to the fact that I have been exploring a method of running called "Chi Running," (About Chi Running)which is promoted by Danny Dreyer in a book by that name. Yet one of the primary premises of Chi Running is that it is better because it is more natural to us, and that the way we have been running is not natural. He asks us to observe the examples of children and the form they use, and contends that the way they run is more natural (and more like Chi Running) than the way adults run.
And although the majority of runners do it in a way that is natural to them, the statistics read that the majority of runners are contending with a great deal of running injuries.
I hear that suggestion a lot when it comes to physical fitness and other physical endeavors: Do what comes "naturally."
It is appealing to follow this advice because it speaks of a wisdom of the body and nature that is above our attempts to improve on it. You don't need any kind of technique, because you already have a built-in technique that will work just fine for you. You can relax, follow your instincts, be yourself and you'll be just fine.
When a person is good at a sport the very first time he tries it, they say "He's a natural."
When a singer is struggling to figure out breath support and breath control to handle the difficult singing tasks of a gargantuan piece of music, some say not to mess with your breathing and "just breathe naturally."
When a new mother tries to breastfeed, she thinks that it is going to be easy because it is "natural."
But I begin to think about what being natural means, I start to think that it can be much more complex than at first glance. After all it is also "natural" to want to hit someone when you are angry. It is natural to slump in a chair and have bad posture. It is "natural" for a small child to resist going to bed at night. It is natural, but not always better, to take short-cuts and do things the easy way. And the way we sing "naturally," cannot always be heard over an orchestra.
Getting back to the running form as an example, I begin to wonder about a person's "natural" way of running. I must confess I have been influenced by a book recommended to me by VeganDiva on her blog (Running Scales)* I just finished reading this book, Born to Run, by Christopher McDougall. In the beginning of the book, Mr. McDougall, plagued by injuries that interfere with his running, is exposed by his doctors to the conventional wisdom that running is not natural to us, is hard on the body, and if you really want to be injury free, you just shouldn't run. But after a lengthy journey that includes exploring and researching various evidence, he concludes that we are "born to run." That we are designed for it. He readjusts and retrains his running stride, and frees himself of his injury problem and goes on to run an ultramarathon.
So, let's say it was true that we are "born to run" and that it is "natural" to us. What might happen that would cause our natural gait to go awry?
Well, for one thing, I recall having read that infant walkers, those little seats on wheels that many parents put their children in for the enjoyment of some mobility before they can actually walk, interfere with the natural muscular and biomechanical development of the child's future gait. (New York Times article on baby walkers slowing infant development: and also Abstract from a case study on infant-walkers and motor development) If this is just one example, I wonder how many other influences can cause a gait to develop in an imbalanced way?
If a person's gait has developed improperly, they may be walking or running in a way that is "natural" to them, but may not be biomechanically optimal and could cause them problems or even serious injuries when they want to try something of a higher athletic nature. (The same can be applied to speaking and singing, or any other physical task that is developmental.) Because of insufficient development of one muscle group, there may be an imbalance that causes another set of muscles to compensate, and eventually develop problems from repetitively having to perform improperly.
Another question that I have read about is that of wearing enhanced and bolstered running shoes. Is it "natural" to wear these shoes. Or are we designed to run barefoot? The way we land on our foot when we have shoes on, and the way we land on our foot when are barefoot are different. Which one is the "natural" way?
This youtube video shoes the different way the same runner lands with and without running shoes:
(I thank Barefoot Ted for making me aware of this youtube example on his blog.)
My reasons for exploring good form, besides just being a little curious and obsessed about it out of general interest and curiosity about how things work, is because I have trouble. I think that's why most people start looking into form of any kind. When you love something and you really really really want to do it, it is a major bummer when you have obstacles like injuries that get in your way. In my case, I am aware that people over 40 are more prone to injury, and good form becomes way more important. An older person can have a great advantage over the speed and strength of youth by cultivating good form.
I had trouble breathing in singing. Breathing "naturally" did not work for me, because somehow some way I developed habits of breathing that interfered with the way I needed to breath for singing.
I had trouble singing high notes because of imbalances in the way I phonated.
I have had some plantar fasciitis pain that is interfering with my training for my very first ever 1/2 marathon next January.
All these are reasons to look more deeply into the matter. If doing what comes naturally to me does not get me where I want to go, I have to learn more. I envy those naturally coordinated people who developed perfectly and don't need to do this. Natural singers. Natural runners. Natural socialites. But my path is a different one. I'm not sorry that it's my path because I am meeting and hearing about some interesting people and learning a lot about being human along the way.
(For anyone interested further reading on human evolution and being designed for running, here's an article I found while hunting for links for this blog post and which I'm going to read right after I publish this post: Born to Run Article from Discover Magazine web site)
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
(edited 12/26/10 -- "Running Scales" no longer exists and has now been changed to The Athletic Performer blog)
that it might not be advisable to mess with "your natural way of running" and that seems to be the majority opinion about how to run, and the way the majority does it.
This suggestion was offered to me in response to the fact that I have been exploring a method of running called "Chi Running," (About Chi Running)which is promoted by Danny Dreyer in a book by that name. Yet one of the primary premises of Chi Running is that it is better because it is more natural to us, and that the way we have been running is not natural. He asks us to observe the examples of children and the form they use, and contends that the way they run is more natural (and more like Chi Running) than the way adults run.
And although the majority of runners do it in a way that is natural to them, the statistics read that the majority of runners are contending with a great deal of running injuries.
I hear that suggestion a lot when it comes to physical fitness and other physical endeavors: Do what comes "naturally."
It is appealing to follow this advice because it speaks of a wisdom of the body and nature that is above our attempts to improve on it. You don't need any kind of technique, because you already have a built-in technique that will work just fine for you. You can relax, follow your instincts, be yourself and you'll be just fine.
When a person is good at a sport the very first time he tries it, they say "He's a natural."
When a singer is struggling to figure out breath support and breath control to handle the difficult singing tasks of a gargantuan piece of music, some say not to mess with your breathing and "just breathe naturally."
When a new mother tries to breastfeed, she thinks that it is going to be easy because it is "natural."
But I begin to think about what being natural means, I start to think that it can be much more complex than at first glance. After all it is also "natural" to want to hit someone when you are angry. It is natural to slump in a chair and have bad posture. It is "natural" for a small child to resist going to bed at night. It is natural, but not always better, to take short-cuts and do things the easy way. And the way we sing "naturally," cannot always be heard over an orchestra.
Getting back to the running form as an example, I begin to wonder about a person's "natural" way of running. I must confess I have been influenced by a book recommended to me by VeganDiva on her blog (Running Scales)* I just finished reading this book, Born to Run, by Christopher McDougall. In the beginning of the book, Mr. McDougall, plagued by injuries that interfere with his running, is exposed by his doctors to the conventional wisdom that running is not natural to us, is hard on the body, and if you really want to be injury free, you just shouldn't run. But after a lengthy journey that includes exploring and researching various evidence, he concludes that we are "born to run." That we are designed for it. He readjusts and retrains his running stride, and frees himself of his injury problem and goes on to run an ultramarathon.
So, let's say it was true that we are "born to run" and that it is "natural" to us. What might happen that would cause our natural gait to go awry?
Well, for one thing, I recall having read that infant walkers, those little seats on wheels that many parents put their children in for the enjoyment of some mobility before they can actually walk, interfere with the natural muscular and biomechanical development of the child's future gait. (New York Times article on baby walkers slowing infant development: and also Abstract from a case study on infant-walkers and motor development) If this is just one example, I wonder how many other influences can cause a gait to develop in an imbalanced way?
If a person's gait has developed improperly, they may be walking or running in a way that is "natural" to them, but may not be biomechanically optimal and could cause them problems or even serious injuries when they want to try something of a higher athletic nature. (The same can be applied to speaking and singing, or any other physical task that is developmental.) Because of insufficient development of one muscle group, there may be an imbalance that causes another set of muscles to compensate, and eventually develop problems from repetitively having to perform improperly.
Another question that I have read about is that of wearing enhanced and bolstered running shoes. Is it "natural" to wear these shoes. Or are we designed to run barefoot? The way we land on our foot when we have shoes on, and the way we land on our foot when are barefoot are different. Which one is the "natural" way?
This youtube video shoes the different way the same runner lands with and without running shoes:
(I thank Barefoot Ted for making me aware of this youtube example on his blog.)
My reasons for exploring good form, besides just being a little curious and obsessed about it out of general interest and curiosity about how things work, is because I have trouble. I think that's why most people start looking into form of any kind. When you love something and you really really really want to do it, it is a major bummer when you have obstacles like injuries that get in your way. In my case, I am aware that people over 40 are more prone to injury, and good form becomes way more important. An older person can have a great advantage over the speed and strength of youth by cultivating good form.
I had trouble breathing in singing. Breathing "naturally" did not work for me, because somehow some way I developed habits of breathing that interfered with the way I needed to breath for singing.
I had trouble singing high notes because of imbalances in the way I phonated.
I have had some plantar fasciitis pain that is interfering with my training for my very first ever 1/2 marathon next January.
All these are reasons to look more deeply into the matter. If doing what comes naturally to me does not get me where I want to go, I have to learn more. I envy those naturally coordinated people who developed perfectly and don't need to do this. Natural singers. Natural runners. Natural socialites. But my path is a different one. I'm not sorry that it's my path because I am meeting and hearing about some interesting people and learning a lot about being human along the way.
(For anyone interested further reading on human evolution and being designed for running, here's an article I found while hunting for links for this blog post and which I'm going to read right after I publish this post: Born to Run Article from Discover Magazine web site)
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
(edited 12/26/10 -- "Running Scales" no longer exists and has now been changed to The Athletic Performer blog)
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Fit to Sing
One of my "trademarks," and something that you will often hear me repeat, is that I have been trying to learn to sing for 25 years. Don't be put off if you hear it over and over again, because it is part of my experience, and it never will NOT be part of my experience. It, along with a couple of other mantras will be repeated as a theme here in this blog. A person has one life to live. Events happen, choices are made, and then become part of a person's history. The fact that I am 47 years old and still trying to learn to sing is part of my story, and won't change about me.
For some, people who were naturally coordinated, or found the right kind of teachers for them, or who "got it" early in life, or who had a different kind of voice, or were much more clever, I imagine it might seem almost ridiculous that I shouldn't have achieved anything in this discipline earlier than this. (And by "achievement" I mean expertise or proficiency.) It does seem a little ridiculous to me. There are a couple of other areas of my life that I have been trying to figure out for nearly as long or longer, food and weight management being one of them. That also, apparently, seems like a no-brainer to many people, but I have struggled with achieving any measure of expertise or proficiency in this area as well, and the struggle to develop my voice has often paralleled my struggle to manage my food and weight, and in recent years the two struggles have converged and become entwined with each other.
I had a big "Aha!" moment several years ago when the understanding struck me, despite previously kind of only having understood this intellectually, that singing was athletic! When this idea really sunk in for real, my discouragement from contending with so many vocal issues lifted, and a new hope was born that I would be able to get "there" vocally after all. Once I realized the kind of work and patience that would be involved, I knew that I still had a shot at achieving my dream ... a free and refined and beautiful-to-hear vocal product that would be able to perform some of the most beautiful, but most difficult, music written for the human voice! Believing that you can do something is a very important part of actualizing a dream. Living in hope is a far more exciting and enriching experience than believing it can't be done.
So, I have come to understand singing as a sport. Different sports develop different sets of muscles. It can be an interesting experience for an athlete who is a professional level at one sport, to "cross over" and try another sport and find that he is weak in the other area. That's because different muscle groups are in play for each sport, and used at different angles and in different ways. So, cross training becomes a component of an athletes program so that there is not an imbalance in the body, with a certain musculature becoming way stronger and more developed than other muscles.
The set of muscles used in singing is an interior and deep set of muscles that are often taken for granted and often not consciously developed and even neglected. They are muscles that regulate breathing, and activate speaking. They are the muscles of posture and keeping us erect. They are the muscles of interior activity, of digestion, waste elimination, reproduction and giving birth. Muscles in charge of keeping us healthy by working in conjunction with our immune system to expel foreign invaders. Muscles responsible for communication. They are deep within our core. I sometimes think this muscular system doesn't recommend itself for fitness because it doesn't show. A lot of times fitness is desired for the sake of its effect on our appearance. An interior fitness, at first glance, doesn't seem like it would be important because it's not public. It seems to work fine, quietly in the background, even when we're sleeping, right? The thought of developing it often does not occur at first.
But elite athletes who delve deeply into their sports often discover that this interior fitness is at the root of everything they do. Breath control and interior core fitness within becomes part of what is needed to reach higher levels of their outer sports.
Isn't it funny sometimes, when you behold a fit and svelte athlete with ideal muscle definition, a finely developed example of the human figure, open his/her mouth and a nasally or squeaky funny little voice comes out? It doesn't seem to match. That's because attention has not been paid to the athletics of vocal production in that person's life. It is taken for granted and not been developed. There is an imbalance.
The idea of cross training has entered into my vocal life. I see that there are elite singers who have developed this vocal fitness, but don't pay attention to the outside fitness as part of their vocal training. To me, this is kind of like the cut athlete who has the funny voice but in reverse. Well, why does a figure skater need a voice? And why would the opera singer need to be able to figure skate? Isn't it a full time job to become proficient in just one set of muscle activity, and shouldn't that be enough?
Maybe, but to me the experience is a totality, and to develop one part of the unit that is me and to not bring the other parts of the unit along with it seems imbalanced, and this imbalance is going to take its toll at some point. Also, developing one discipline can bring to light lessons that are useful in applying to the other.
I have a fitness book on my shelf called Perfect Parts: A World Champions Guide to Spot Slimming Shaping and Strengthening Your Body by Joyce Vedral and Rachel McLish
, two women body builders. I am going from memory of having read the book years ago, but in this book they recommend trying to develop just one set of muscles (as opposed to plunging into full-fledged entire body building), but they do say it is for the purpose of experiencing how wonderful that is, and they believe that experiencing the results will inspire you to proceed and develop the other muscles too. So, you might start out, for example, choosing the routine to soleley develop your abs, experience the process of how to achieve this kind of muscle sculpting and development, gain understanding of the principles involved, be delighted by the results, and move on to develop the totality.
This is kind of the way it is working for me and voice. My interest in developing just my voice, merely one athleticism, has led to my interest in cross training and the benefits it will have on me as a total singing artist. So I will be writing of other pursuits, fitness, weight management, spiritual development, emotional issues as well as singing, because I have come to believe that all of these things are connected to my singing. The desire to sculpt and develop my voice has bled into all other areas, so you will hear this theme of mine over and over again as I write on these pages, because it is the approach, a kind of holistic and total approach to singing that has become my ideal.
My singing has become a vehicle for finding the true and hidden secrets of my existence as a human being. It has been the key to unlocking my life.
For some, people who were naturally coordinated, or found the right kind of teachers for them, or who "got it" early in life, or who had a different kind of voice, or were much more clever, I imagine it might seem almost ridiculous that I shouldn't have achieved anything in this discipline earlier than this. (And by "achievement" I mean expertise or proficiency.) It does seem a little ridiculous to me. There are a couple of other areas of my life that I have been trying to figure out for nearly as long or longer, food and weight management being one of them. That also, apparently, seems like a no-brainer to many people, but I have struggled with achieving any measure of expertise or proficiency in this area as well, and the struggle to develop my voice has often paralleled my struggle to manage my food and weight, and in recent years the two struggles have converged and become entwined with each other.
I had a big "Aha!" moment several years ago when the understanding struck me, despite previously kind of only having understood this intellectually, that singing was athletic! When this idea really sunk in for real, my discouragement from contending with so many vocal issues lifted, and a new hope was born that I would be able to get "there" vocally after all. Once I realized the kind of work and patience that would be involved, I knew that I still had a shot at achieving my dream ... a free and refined and beautiful-to-hear vocal product that would be able to perform some of the most beautiful, but most difficult, music written for the human voice! Believing that you can do something is a very important part of actualizing a dream. Living in hope is a far more exciting and enriching experience than believing it can't be done.
So, I have come to understand singing as a sport. Different sports develop different sets of muscles. It can be an interesting experience for an athlete who is a professional level at one sport, to "cross over" and try another sport and find that he is weak in the other area. That's because different muscle groups are in play for each sport, and used at different angles and in different ways. So, cross training becomes a component of an athletes program so that there is not an imbalance in the body, with a certain musculature becoming way stronger and more developed than other muscles.
The set of muscles used in singing is an interior and deep set of muscles that are often taken for granted and often not consciously developed and even neglected. They are muscles that regulate breathing, and activate speaking. They are the muscles of posture and keeping us erect. They are the muscles of interior activity, of digestion, waste elimination, reproduction and giving birth. Muscles in charge of keeping us healthy by working in conjunction with our immune system to expel foreign invaders. Muscles responsible for communication. They are deep within our core. I sometimes think this muscular system doesn't recommend itself for fitness because it doesn't show. A lot of times fitness is desired for the sake of its effect on our appearance. An interior fitness, at first glance, doesn't seem like it would be important because it's not public. It seems to work fine, quietly in the background, even when we're sleeping, right? The thought of developing it often does not occur at first.
But elite athletes who delve deeply into their sports often discover that this interior fitness is at the root of everything they do. Breath control and interior core fitness within becomes part of what is needed to reach higher levels of their outer sports.
Isn't it funny sometimes, when you behold a fit and svelte athlete with ideal muscle definition, a finely developed example of the human figure, open his/her mouth and a nasally or squeaky funny little voice comes out? It doesn't seem to match. That's because attention has not been paid to the athletics of vocal production in that person's life. It is taken for granted and not been developed. There is an imbalance.
The idea of cross training has entered into my vocal life. I see that there are elite singers who have developed this vocal fitness, but don't pay attention to the outside fitness as part of their vocal training. To me, this is kind of like the cut athlete who has the funny voice but in reverse. Well, why does a figure skater need a voice? And why would the opera singer need to be able to figure skate? Isn't it a full time job to become proficient in just one set of muscle activity, and shouldn't that be enough?
Maybe, but to me the experience is a totality, and to develop one part of the unit that is me and to not bring the other parts of the unit along with it seems imbalanced, and this imbalance is going to take its toll at some point. Also, developing one discipline can bring to light lessons that are useful in applying to the other.
I have a fitness book on my shelf called Perfect Parts: A World Champions Guide to Spot Slimming Shaping and Strengthening Your Body by Joyce Vedral and Rachel McLish
, two women body builders. I am going from memory of having read the book years ago, but in this book they recommend trying to develop just one set of muscles (as opposed to plunging into full-fledged entire body building), but they do say it is for the purpose of experiencing how wonderful that is, and they believe that experiencing the results will inspire you to proceed and develop the other muscles too. So, you might start out, for example, choosing the routine to soleley develop your abs, experience the process of how to achieve this kind of muscle sculpting and development, gain understanding of the principles involved, be delighted by the results, and move on to develop the totality.This is kind of the way it is working for me and voice. My interest in developing just my voice, merely one athleticism, has led to my interest in cross training and the benefits it will have on me as a total singing artist. So I will be writing of other pursuits, fitness, weight management, spiritual development, emotional issues as well as singing, because I have come to believe that all of these things are connected to my singing. The desire to sculpt and develop my voice has bled into all other areas, so you will hear this theme of mine over and over again as I write on these pages, because it is the approach, a kind of holistic and total approach to singing that has become my ideal.
My singing has become a vehicle for finding the true and hidden secrets of my existence as a human being. It has been the key to unlocking my life.
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