Children, by design, can typically only appreciate their own needs, and as such, are more self-centered.  Most tend to be aware of others through budding strands of empathy (if they are taught to), and regular expectations placed upon them by adults. 

As people enter young adulthood, their brains develop the capacity for deeper, more regular empathy, yet, the world around them maintains a steady regimen of expectations (school, new job, dating, new relationships, children, etc.) that keep them mired in feeling like they have to live life by other people’s rules. 

After 5-10 years of this process, matched with a growing sense of self within the whole, people tend to long for a change.  As they begin to ask themselves why they respond so often to the expectations of others, the same patterns that have built their sense of stability in their community, major upheavals occur, leading to a sense that the entire universe is realigning, if only for them.

A meaningful Saturn Return potentially carries the following traits: 

1) individuals understand that they have the power and authority to create their own expectations for themselves

2) they understand that others will create expectations for themselves as well that may not align with their own expectations

3) they develop measures of empathy that allow for them to hear other people’s desires as separate from their own, allowing them to respond with less judgement and more compassion, because they grow to understand that. . .

4) living in close community requires us to balance our own desires with the desires of those around us

The trick here, again, tends to be that young adults are less practiced at articulating their own desires, because they never knew that they were allowed to, and didn’t know the difference.

Back to the studio. . .the voice studio (and vocal ensemble room) may represent one of the most pronounced dens of expectation in our society, second only to Congress and night clubs.  Generally speaking, vocalists enter into these environments while still young, and they learn that their opinions don’t matter in comparison to their instructor.  They learn to respond unquestioningly to the expectations of their leader, swallowing their own sense of self for the sake of the experience.  Then, students tend to become instructors early in their careers (often before they are twenty-one), leading them to turn the table, and become the progenitor of expectation, taking up the mantle of dictator prior to that magical time in life when they begin to realize that dictatorial regime may not have a place in close community.  Yet, for some reason, even as we develop agency during our late twenties, the voice community remains staunchly, and one-sidedly, expectation driven.

Imagine if the opposite were true.  Imagine if, as instructors, we used the voice studio as a place wherein young people were taught that not only did their opinion matter, but that it is critical to the positive outcome of their experience. 
What if we taught them to begin to develop a sense of self, one that hungered for knowledge for the sake of being able to set personal goals and measure the outcomes?  What if we showed our students what it means to state personal desires and hear the desires of others stated as well, and they were able to participate in the ensuing dialogue that leads to the compromise so essential to close community engagement?  What would that do for their sense of empathy, their growth as artists, and their confidence in themselves?  More importantly, perhaps. . .What would it do for the instructors?

The pressure of having to always be right, whether we are setting the rules or doing our best to follow them, is simply too suffocating for the delicate and complicated art of singing.  Until we find a way to create paradigms wherein our singers and ourselves can feel that we all have an equal emotional footing, we will continue to frustrate our process, regardless of how much we know about the larynx.  On the contrary, when we do find this place, perhaps Saturn’s appearance on our celestial calendar will be but a reminder of our sovereign authority over ourselves, our capacity to hear and appreciate other opinions, and the inevitable generosity toward others that follows.

~David

Donald Miller’s Resonance in Singing begins with a preface by renowned vocal pedagogue Scott McCoy who wonders why more voice instructors haven’t availed themselves of proven technologies.  He says: “I have been puzzled in recent years by the relatively low number of singing teachers who have incorporated this new information in their methodologies, particularly regarding voice acoustics and resonance.”  Miller echoes the sentiment as he works through his book.  Since I first learned about technology, I’ve used it repeatedly, and with glee, yet, I have rather slowly worked it into my private voice instruction practice.  This may be partially true because I have no models to work from, and partially because the process takes some creative thought, knowledge, and patience.  

Recently, however, I’ve had a lot of success using Madde in my personal practice to help me formant tune.
Formant tuning  is  finding the  vocal tract shapes that most easily boost a given pitch, providing stability, clarity, and volume. 

Basically, I choose a pitch, and begin to create one vowel shape at a time, using Madde as a guide to explore what formant tuning options (i.e. vowel shapes) I have on that pitch and that.  You only really need to know some general formant information to make this happen (see our Harmonics vs. Formants page).  I try out every option I can think of. 

1) I turn on my SYGT voice analyzer
2) Have Madde sing the note
3) Then I sing with Madde
4) Then I turn Madde off while still singing
5) Then I vocal fry (to show my formants)
6) Then I look at the acoustic results in the analyzer, noting where my pattern is similar or different from Madde's

Almost every time, my formants are perfectly in line with the optimum strategies that I create with Madde from the first time I do it.  We have a remarkable capacity to mimic, and when we have a model that perfectly aligns harmonics and formants, it saves a lot of time.  I’ve learned loads about my vocal options in the past few weeks while practicing this way, and it’s translated easily onto the repertoire that I’m singing.  The best part is that Madde is free, and super easy to use.  I’m developing a presentation for PAVA with Madde to help people understand formant tuning for choirs.  It’s a powerful tool, and one that we can use regularly, without much effort, and to significant effect.

~David

In fact, one might claim that there are as many unique sensational dictates as there are vocal instructors in the world, and probably ten times that amount, and for good reason.  Sensation gives the singer a reliable reflection on the quality of their sound.  Hearing alone can’t tell the singer what kind of sound they are making, especially in certain circumstances like singing in a choir, surrounded by amplified instruments, or soloing in a massive concert hall.  The challenge comes with the delivery.

By contrast, when the instructor knows enough about how the vocal mechanism works, and what adjustments will lead to the kinds of vocal output the singer is interested in making, they can ask the singer to focus on a certain part of the body, or engage in a particular focusing exercise, and then ask the singer what they felt. 

For example:

Input:  The singer has a muffled, dark tone.
Diagnosis:  The singer's tongue is far back in the throat.
Exercise: Ask the singer to sing a 5-note scale on [z], and notice where they feel a sensation in their mouth.
Response:  Once the instructor hears the sound that they are interested in hearing, the singer is asked to describe the sensation they are feeling.  If they have none, have them do it again, even gently guide them if needed, but their awareness is what is important.
Explanation: The instructor offers a brief explanation of why that sensation will make a difference in the sound, talking about how a forward tongue position increases stability in the Formant/Vowel 1 Area, and increases certain high harmonics that are helpful for creating a clear tone.
New target: the instructor asks the singer to maintain that sensation while singing other exercises, like a 5-note scale on [i].

Laurel and I were recently recording an a cappella version of “She’s Got You” for her dad’s birthday.  As I was laying down the background vocals, I noticed that my sound (on playback) was a little broad and flabby, causing a slight tuning issue.  I mentioned it, and Laurel said “your tongue is pulling back”, to which I immediately responded, “no it isn’t”.  She retorted, “I can see it”, and I paused, and then conceded. 
 
Why is it that I was so confident in my experience as to offer such a sharp, and ultimately misguided, rejoinder?   Even though my ears were telling me that something was amiss, and she had a perfectly plausible reflection, something about my physical experience had told me that my singing was fine, in fact, that the problem must exist elsewhere…consider that for a moment, as, I think all voice users go through this experience regularly enough. 
 
The thing is that I’ve been working with tongue position when singing pop music for over a year and a half.  Even with fairly regular attention to renewing my resonant strategy where my tongue is concerned, when I got in the middle of recording, listening to the lead vocals, and making up a new harmony at the same time, my body went back to a former habit that (here’s the kicker) felt exactly right. 
 
The lesson:  training our ears to hear subtleties of laryngeal registration, tongue adjustments, pharyngeal shifts, resonant strategies, breath pressure, etc. is critical, but it’s only the first step. 

• Next we have to guide our singers to experience a difference. 
• Then, they must identify the sensation(s) associated with those differences, in their own words, and
• Lastly, they have to be able to recreate the new and old sounds based on those sensations. 

If they can’t, then they are destined to fall back into the old habit again, because, even if our old habit doesn’t create the sounds we want, it is a sensation that we physically know and trust, and therefore, a sensation we are more likely to return to.
 
When I went back to the mic, the vocal tract adjustment was fairly simple, because I had spent so much practice time in the past working on creating new sensations around a more forward tongue placement.  The new sound eliminated the harmonic conflicts in question, and, I took a step toward wanting to explore more stability and reliability in the future. 

~David H.

Master Class, Boston. October 2015.

At a Master Class and acoustics lecture this month, I picked up on some new language regarding how we can talk about dropping the jaw, the sensation of pharyngeal space, and creating "warmth" in the sound. 

This instructor emphasized that is important to map the back of the throat to where it truly ends, right by the ears. When singers imagine the back of their throats going beyond that, or the need to create extra space behind the tongue , this is almost always done by pulling the tongue back and over depressing the larynx.  It is hard to for most people to interpret the idea of "creating space" as a passive sensation. They want to do something, which usually results in the tongue pulling back, which ironically creates even less space in the pharynx.

This is why many people think the /a/ vowel has the most space behind the tongue and /i/ has the least space behind the tongue. In reality it is the opposite. We take the information from the front of the mouth, I see a larger mouth opening for /a/ so therefore there most be a larger opening everywhere. I see a smaller mouth opening for /i/, it therefore must be narrower everywhere. When creating an  /i/, I also have no sensation in the pharynx or behind the tongue. I therefore assume I'm not doing enough, not creating space.  

That being said, a good point was brought up that singers often try to do too much in the front of the  face to create lengthening in the tract or a 'darkness' or 'warmth' to the sound.  That quality usually occurs when the space in the pharyngeal area is large enough to resonate the fundamental of the pitch and not a higher harmonic. The instructor pointed out that if you are using some over lip rounding  machination to  fulfill the pharynx's acoustical job, it's already too late.  The sound will just be muffled and manipulated. 

The final image I enjoyed  was the sensation that  the length from your bottom of your jaw to your ears shortens   as you get higher in pitch.  Often times when we drop the jaw the head tilts up or the larynx rises or the tongue pulls back. Thinking that the length just shortens and everything else's general shape stays the same seems to really improve stability across the range.  It made me think of how a nutcracker's jaw is droppped which goes along with a lot of language of 'verticality' when dropping the jaw, to discourage the head from tipping backwards and the layrnx rising.

~Laurel M.

Private voice studio, Boston.  April 2015.

I was observing a private voice lesson in  Boston, as I have done many times since moving here last winter,  and I heard an interesting metaphor about stopping the sound or ending the note -

"When you stop singing the note, it should be like Wile E. Coyote chasing roadrunner off the cliff, even though there's no ground underneath him, he still keeps going the same speed."

The sound in this case would be the ground underneath him, and the continuous running speed would evoke the sensation that air keeps 'moving' even when the note stops. 

Language  about  'air speed', 'continuing the air', 'not stopping the air', 'air flow' before, after and between notes, seems very prevalent and can often yield successes. I'm still very curious about what specifically happens in the system with the sensation of 'continuous air flow'. 

I'm guessing in this example, that the goal for the student was to focus on the offset of the note. There is the concept that you can stop making sound by either opening the vocal folds or closing them. The image of continuing to run off the cliff, or continuing the air, was probably meant to evoke the former. Does stopping air flow by squeezing the folds tighter interrupt the sound waves mid-cycle and provide an abbruptness inappropriate for some styles or emotional motivations?  

This seems to go along with the images of 'inhale immediately when you end the sound', and 'imagine you're still singing after a cut-off'.  Are all these images translating to - create the offsets by opening the vocal folds, not squeezing them shut?

~Laurel M.