Last night I forgot to take my CD player to tai chi class. Not a big deal. I had my computer with me and I had a Deuter album on iTunes that I really like to listen to while doing tai chi. You can listen to samples from each of the tracks with the link to amazon, or you can get an idea of what the whole thing is like from this.
So, I got to class, turned on the computer, started the music, and then greeted the students as they arrived. Class went very well, and we were just getting ready for one final run through of the form, when suddenly the Deuter was over, replaced by another German.
I've been sharing tai chi principles and even some of the forms with my voice students. It's actually been quite helpful. I just never expected to share Dietrich Fischer-Diskau with my tai chi students.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Solfege
I'm the meanest teacher part II. Click here for part I.
I am a firm believer in the power of solfege. However, I've yet to convert some of my students. Too many of them see it just as something they need to know for choir auditions. And since they're not good at it, they don't want to practice it. I get that. I know that it's scary to make mistakes in front of your teacher. I know it's scary to be seen as anything less than perfect.
I also know that sight-reading and aural skills improve with practice. In fact, I'm proof of that. I had a very basic introduction to solfege in high school, but never had enough practice and reinforcement to get comfortable with it. In college, I switched into the music major program late. Because of all my piano background, they let me skip the first semester of theory and aural skills, which saved me a year of college, but left me feeling uncertain about the whole sight-reading thing. In grad school, I took the remedial course and it finally clicked in. Now that I've been teaching it for 15 years, I'm feeling pretty good about my sight-reading skills. But you can't tell that to a kid that wants to be good right now or else he doesn't want to do it.
This year, to tackle the solfege fear, I've once again revised my curriculum, incorporating more learning modes. We spend a lot of time working the visual and aural concepts, but this year I decided we needed to do more for kinesthetic learners, so all of my kids are learning some basic interval pattern exercises with solfege hand signs. Yes, it does add another level of difficulty and complexity, but I'm also seeing an improvement in their accuracy. By the time this year's freshmen graduate, I expect that it is going to make a big difference in their sight reading.
But, solfege is not just about sight-reading. It is about learning to hear patterns, and that pattern recognition helps us learn faster, even if all our songs are learned solely through aural means. I have a blind student that doesn't want to learn any solfege because in her brain, solfege is only about sight-reading which obviously she can't do. This is one of those times when I'm putting my foot down. I think she will pick up on the sounds of the patterns. I think she will grow from this experience. Yes it will be hard, but it is also exactly what she needs.
I am a firm believer in the power of solfege. However, I've yet to convert some of my students. Too many of them see it just as something they need to know for choir auditions. And since they're not good at it, they don't want to practice it. I get that. I know that it's scary to make mistakes in front of your teacher. I know it's scary to be seen as anything less than perfect.
I also know that sight-reading and aural skills improve with practice. In fact, I'm proof of that. I had a very basic introduction to solfege in high school, but never had enough practice and reinforcement to get comfortable with it. In college, I switched into the music major program late. Because of all my piano background, they let me skip the first semester of theory and aural skills, which saved me a year of college, but left me feeling uncertain about the whole sight-reading thing. In grad school, I took the remedial course and it finally clicked in. Now that I've been teaching it for 15 years, I'm feeling pretty good about my sight-reading skills. But you can't tell that to a kid that wants to be good right now or else he doesn't want to do it.
This year, to tackle the solfege fear, I've once again revised my curriculum, incorporating more learning modes. We spend a lot of time working the visual and aural concepts, but this year I decided we needed to do more for kinesthetic learners, so all of my kids are learning some basic interval pattern exercises with solfege hand signs. Yes, it does add another level of difficulty and complexity, but I'm also seeing an improvement in their accuracy. By the time this year's freshmen graduate, I expect that it is going to make a big difference in their sight reading.
But, solfege is not just about sight-reading. It is about learning to hear patterns, and that pattern recognition helps us learn faster, even if all our songs are learned solely through aural means. I have a blind student that doesn't want to learn any solfege because in her brain, solfege is only about sight-reading which obviously she can't do. This is one of those times when I'm putting my foot down. I think she will pick up on the sounds of the patterns. I think she will grow from this experience. Yes it will be hard, but it is also exactly what she needs.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Meanest Teacher
My friends with children sometimes post about how their children think they have the meanest mom in the world. I feel sort of left out, so today I decided to be the meanest teacher.
I had several times open for today that students could use to sign up for make up lessons. One student signed up that didn't need a make up lesson. He's had several absences, so I thought that maybe he was confused about how many make ups he needed. I told him that he didn't need to have a lesson today because he was totally caught up.
His reply was, "Well what if I want a lesson today?"
To be honest, he gets brownie points for asking that. I answered with another question.
"How much practicing have you done since your last lesson?"
The answer was none, so I told him we weren't doing an extra lesson if he hadn't practiced. I sent him back to his choir class.
He didn't actually call me the meanest teacher, but can I claim that anyway? At least for today? This is high school after all, where some students still contact me to cancel their "singing practice" when what they really mean is they want to cancel their voice lesson. There is a difference, and maybe I need to do more to instruct them about that difference.
I had several times open for today that students could use to sign up for make up lessons. One student signed up that didn't need a make up lesson. He's had several absences, so I thought that maybe he was confused about how many make ups he needed. I told him that he didn't need to have a lesson today because he was totally caught up.
His reply was, "Well what if I want a lesson today?"
To be honest, he gets brownie points for asking that. I answered with another question.
"How much practicing have you done since your last lesson?"
The answer was none, so I told him we weren't doing an extra lesson if he hadn't practiced. I sent him back to his choir class.
He didn't actually call me the meanest teacher, but can I claim that anyway? At least for today? This is high school after all, where some students still contact me to cancel their "singing practice" when what they really mean is they want to cancel their voice lesson. There is a difference, and maybe I need to do more to instruct them about that difference.
Friday, May 25, 2012
The Chocolate Cake Principle
My last blog addressed the idea of how important expression is to the overall delivery of a song. Just in case anyone out there is thinking that I let my students sing poorly as long as they are expressive, let me introduce you to the Chocolate Cake Principle.
All the technical work we do in lessons (breath, vowels, resonance, etc.) is like baking the cake. We're mixing together several ingredients and then "baking" to create a beautiful tone color. I'm sure most of us have eaten plain cake before. It's pretty good. I certainly wouldn't turn my nose up at "naked" cake.
And who hasn't had a fingerful or spoonful of frosting all by itself? It's almost 100% sugar. Of course it's good! The frosting of singing is the expression, the acting, making the song uniquely yours.
So, you could have just cake, or just frosting, and enjoy the experience. But, you know what is really amazing? FROSTING ON THE CAKE. It is better than either could be alone. A strong technical performance paired with expressivity and meaning is better than either technique or emotion could create on their own.
And here is a wonderful example of the Chocolate Cake Principle at work. Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau was a master because he understood how to sing AND how to express. The melody of this song is not all that impressive, and I've heard some pretty boring performances of this song, but Fischer-Dieskau creates a masterpiece.
And if you are really hungry now, go here to see the chocolate cake that inspired this principle. Here's the description:
Three layers of dark chocolate cake finished with rich creamy fudge. Quite possibly the best chocolate cake you’ve ever tasted.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Make Me Feel Something
Singing is about communication, and if we don't do that, why bother to sing? Recitals are coming up and once again, I am reminded of the things that I don't spend enough time teaching (although in 25 minutes once a week, there really isn't time for everything, so I guess I shouldn't be too hard on myself).
Yes, I want my students to sound good, and to produce that good sound in a healthy way, but more importantly, I want them to be able to share the joy they feel in making music and to express the text in a way that makes the audience really listen. So this week, here's what we've been listening to.
Ella, as always, is exquisite. The tone, the expressivity, the personality--it's all there. And Louis Armstrong is wonderful. Maybe the vocal quality isn't great, but it doesn't matter, because he didn't sing this. He became the music. The voice teacher in me doesn't cringe at the gravelly sound. I rejoice. If one of my kids could pull off a performance like this, I'd be overjoyed. He gets it. He knows what music is about.
And this next video is one of the most powerful performances I have ever seen. Vocal issues? Maybe. But who cares when it is this engaging. I can't stop watching. Dame Judi Dench owns this.
Dear students, I'm not expecting perfection at the recital. Just love the music, live in it, and make me feel something.
Yes, I want my students to sound good, and to produce that good sound in a healthy way, but more importantly, I want them to be able to share the joy they feel in making music and to express the text in a way that makes the audience really listen. So this week, here's what we've been listening to.
Ella, as always, is exquisite. The tone, the expressivity, the personality--it's all there. And Louis Armstrong is wonderful. Maybe the vocal quality isn't great, but it doesn't matter, because he didn't sing this. He became the music. The voice teacher in me doesn't cringe at the gravelly sound. I rejoice. If one of my kids could pull off a performance like this, I'd be overjoyed. He gets it. He knows what music is about.
And this next video is one of the most powerful performances I have ever seen. Vocal issues? Maybe. But who cares when it is this engaging. I can't stop watching. Dame Judi Dench owns this.
Dear students, I'm not expecting perfection at the recital. Just love the music, live in it, and make me feel something.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Another learning experience with Solo and Ensemble Contest
For the last couple of weeks we have been putting the finishing touches on performances as students prepared for Solo and Ensemble Contest (which happened yesterday.) I encouraged each student to write a positive personal pep talk to review right before they entered the room to sing. This pep talk was to include reminders about anything that we had discussed in lessons to improve their song. It could include "remember to get a deep, relaxed breath", or "send the sound to the back of the room". I also asked that they really focus on phrasing things positively. Under pressure and stress, your brain deletes the word "not", so "Don't mess up the high note," becomes, "MESS UP THE HIGH NOTE! MESS UP THE HIGH NOTE! MESS UP THE HIGH NOTE!" A better, more positively phrased option would be, "I will sing the high note with space and freedom." I thought that avoiding the word "not" would be good enough, but a student showed me another way that we can sabotage ourselves. When I asked this student to share something he might put in his pep talk, he said something like this, "I will sing to the end of the phrase instead of breathing in the middle of the word." Ugh. That "instead of" just gave his brain another option that we don't want it to have. We talked about how in this last minute pep talk, we only wanted to include the things we want to have happen. "I will sing to the end of the phrase."
I also explained to the students that this personal pep talk was like downloading the latest updates to the computer. Once they entered the room, I wanted them to trust that the computer (their brains and bodies) would run the program (installed through practice and updated with the pep talk) and only focus on keeping the body free and expressing the text. If you don't know what to do before you enter the room, all the worrying in the world won't make it happen. OK, I didn't include that last part, but it is true.
Some of the kids thought it was a dumb exercise, which is fine, but I think it really makes a difference and the kids that did it, benefitted from it.
Solo and Ensemble Contest is such a stressful experience, and I'm not talking about what the kids feel. Take the nerves one student feels and multiply it by the number of students I have participating, (in this event it was somewhere around 40) and then you will see what I go through. I know what they are capable of. I know what they have practiced (or not practiced). I want them to succeed, sometimes even more than they want it.
But yesterday I got thinking about the pep talks and the computer analogy. I have to trust that I have done all I can to prepare my students. I have to let them go. I have to let them claim responsibility and ownership for their preparation and performances. If I am the person accompanying them, I need to let go of teacher mode and focus on the expressivity and beauty of what they are creating.
No, that's not totally new to me, but it's also not something that I've totally mastered either. I have a lot of room to grow still.
Here are some highlights of my day:
- a student with Asperger's conquered her nerves, sang her song, and responded very well to the clinician that worked with her.
- a student who stutters had even more difficulty announcing his song than he usually does due to his nerves, but he didn't let that create frustration that would affect his song. Once he started singing, he nailed it.
- 2 students who have had a rough year (or years) (partly due to their own poor choices) sang for completely impartial clinicians who knew nothing of their pasts. The kids brought the best they had to offer (which was amazing) and the judges saw that and let them know how wonderful it was.
- in more than one case, the nervous energy actually improved the sound quality and tuning and kids gave better performances than they had given at their lessons. (Love it when that happens.)
I survived another year of Solo and Ensemble Contests! Yay me! Now on to the preparation for the end of the year recitals. No pressure there. Just parents wanting to see that the money they've been paying was well spent.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Don't Look Down
I love this quote from Dr. Paul Lam about looking down, and I will definitely be sharing it with my voice students.
"The eye is the energy of the spirit - the window of the mind. Often you will notice people practicing tai chi with their eyes downcast, like this as I show you Chen style Single Whip movement. This will lower your internal energy. Now look where the direction of the energy lies, you can feel your energy being stronger and more wholesome. The principle is to connect your vision with your internal energy. Looking down is actually a part of human nature. All of us at times feel unsure of ourselves, and we tend to look down which will lower our energy. To be aware of this is easy but it is challenging to do well. However, no matter what level of tai chi you are at, if you are aware and focus on this principle, you will improve. When your visual direction is right, your energy will be stronger, your tai chi, posture and feeling about yourself improve."
I teach my students to avoid looking down because it cuts off the audience. They can't see and connect with your facial expressions. I had never connected looking down with a change in energy, although now it seems obvious.
I've always believed that inspiration and enlightenment are actual energies as opposed to just ideas. When we "look where the direction of our energy lies" we grow stronger physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
Looking down, on the other hand, literally weakens us and reinforces negative attitudes (both our own attitudes, and the attitudes of others about us).
Wow.
-- Posted from my iPhone
-- Posted from my iPhone
"The eye is the energy of the spirit - the window of the mind. Often you will notice people practicing tai chi with their eyes downcast, like this as I show you Chen style Single Whip movement. This will lower your internal energy. Now look where the direction of the energy lies, you can feel your energy being stronger and more wholesome. The principle is to connect your vision with your internal energy. Looking down is actually a part of human nature. All of us at times feel unsure of ourselves, and we tend to look down which will lower our energy. To be aware of this is easy but it is challenging to do well. However, no matter what level of tai chi you are at, if you are aware and focus on this principle, you will improve. When your visual direction is right, your energy will be stronger, your tai chi, posture and feeling about yourself improve."
I teach my students to avoid looking down because it cuts off the audience. They can't see and connect with your facial expressions. I had never connected looking down with a change in energy, although now it seems obvious.
I've always believed that inspiration and enlightenment are actual energies as opposed to just ideas. When we "look where the direction of our energy lies" we grow stronger physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
Looking down, on the other hand, literally weakens us and reinforces negative attitudes (both our own attitudes, and the attitudes of others about us).
Wow.
-- Posted from my iPhone
-- Posted from my iPhone
I Have a Secret
OK, it's not that big of a secret, but it is something that a lot of people don't know about me and would probably not expect from a voice teacher.
I don't crave the spotlight. Most singers I know do. Yes, some deal with performance anxiety which creates a love/hate relationship with performing, but they cope because whatever negatives they experience are worth the thrill they feel on stage in front of an audience or the joy of being the center of attention.
I have to sing, but I could easily live without performing. I sing for the joy it brings me. I sing becauses there is beautiful music just begging to be sung. I sing because it helps me understand who I am.
I perform because it is good for me to remember the fears and vulnerabilities involved in performing. How can I teach a student to deal with that if I haven't done it myself?
I perform because not performing seems like I'm being ungrateful for the marvelous gifts I've been given, both the gifts of my ability and the gifts of the songs themselves.
I perform because of the relationships formed through performance. Some of the people I love the most in this world are people I have shared the stage with. The smell of the theatre makes me homesick, not for the spotlight, but for the people and the experiences.
I perform because I know that my voice and the messages I bring have the power to affect others. And if I can help bring joy or peace to someone, I figure it is worth all the anxiety that comes with my performing.
And lastly, I perform because songs were written to be heard. Yes, I've had some moments of incredible beauty in the practice rooom. Yes, I have had transcendent experiences singing alone. But music, as it was intended, and when it is the most profound is when the energies of the creators (composers and poets), the realizers (singers, players, conductors) and the listeners (audience) unite and feed each other. It's not as common as some would like to think, but when it happens, that experience is like no other. And that, most of all, is why I continue to perform. I walk on stage not to sing, but to become music.
-- Posted from my iPhone
I don't crave the spotlight. Most singers I know do. Yes, some deal with performance anxiety which creates a love/hate relationship with performing, but they cope because whatever negatives they experience are worth the thrill they feel on stage in front of an audience or the joy of being the center of attention.
I have to sing, but I could easily live without performing. I sing for the joy it brings me. I sing becauses there is beautiful music just begging to be sung. I sing because it helps me understand who I am.
I perform because it is good for me to remember the fears and vulnerabilities involved in performing. How can I teach a student to deal with that if I haven't done it myself?
I perform because not performing seems like I'm being ungrateful for the marvelous gifts I've been given, both the gifts of my ability and the gifts of the songs themselves.
I perform because of the relationships formed through performance. Some of the people I love the most in this world are people I have shared the stage with. The smell of the theatre makes me homesick, not for the spotlight, but for the people and the experiences.
I perform because I know that my voice and the messages I bring have the power to affect others. And if I can help bring joy or peace to someone, I figure it is worth all the anxiety that comes with my performing.
And lastly, I perform because songs were written to be heard. Yes, I've had some moments of incredible beauty in the practice rooom. Yes, I have had transcendent experiences singing alone. But music, as it was intended, and when it is the most profound is when the energies of the creators (composers and poets), the realizers (singers, players, conductors) and the listeners (audience) unite and feed each other. It's not as common as some would like to think, but when it happens, that experience is like no other. And that, most of all, is why I continue to perform. I walk on stage not to sing, but to become music.
-- Posted from my iPhone
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