Place this over your own nose and mouth first before trying to sing

We listened to the mp3 together. Amazing! There is only ONE place to breathe in the chorus: If you just realize what I just realized/ then we’d be perfect for each other/ and will never find another/if you just realize what I just realized // (BREATHE!)// We’d never have to wonder if/we missed out on each other now

I wondered how Miss C would ever be able to manage this feat in live performance. So, my student and I checked out  Realize live, and we realized (ha!) that even Colbie herself couldn’t sing the long phrases in one breath! One of her bandmates harmonizes the melody on the choruses and sings a little longer than she does, so Colbie can get a breath. If he didn’t harmonize, there would be a little gap in the song and in the “rushed” mood.

Girlfriend wrote the song by herself, presumably for herself (along with Jason Reeves and Mikal Blue)! I think she was trying to make the chorus sound like a rush of words, the kind that come with the

realizationthatyoulovesomeoneandyouwantotellthemnow.

Okay, you’re the artist, it’s your call. The miracle of music track editing can cover up the fact you have no place to breathe in your own song. No one else can sing the song quite like Colbie . . .even she can’t really sing it.

Taylor Swift likes to breathe in unexpected places, and seems to avoid breathing in the logical ones. (And Caillat has written songs for Swift; what a perfect pair of blue-lipped maidens!) Listen to her sing the chorus of Love Story: “You’ll be the prince (BREATHE!) and (BREATHE!) I’ll (BREATHE!) be the princess.” She sounds like a four year old running up three flights of stairs to tell her friend how to play Make Believe Castle. But the ending will leave you . . . . . .uh . . . . . .breathless: RomeosavemeI’vebennfeelingsoaloneIkeep (BREATHE)

waitingforyoubutyounevercomeisthis (BREATHE!)

inmyheadIdon’t know (BREATHE!)

whattothinkhekneelstothegroundandpullsoutaringandsaidmarrymeJulietyou’llneverhavetobealoneIloveyouandthat’sallIreallyknowItalkedto yourdadgopickoutawhitedressit’salovestorybabyjustsayyes.

The girl’s in love! Oxygen! STAT!

Alanis Morrissette paved the way for the Bad Girl Breathers with lyrics that have been called ”a mangled web of garbled syntax, overheated metaphors, and mystifying verbal contortions.” She doesn’t engage in the kind of melodic rushing that Caillat and Swift (and Sara Bareilles) do. Instead, she messes with beats and so-so rhymes and emPHASis. Like a Pied Piper of Lyrical Grammar, Alanis has led many astray; I still like her. My favorite song of hers is “Uninvited”, from the City of Angels soundtrack. She knows when and how to breathe, even if she’s not so careful about pronounCIation: Like anyone WOULD be/ I am flatTERED by your FAScination WITH me. . . .you’re uninVIted, an unforTUNate slight.”

So if you want to sing one of these one-breath-per-stanza songs, what do you do? 1. Slow it down, so the time between rhymes and words is slow enough for you to take some quick breaths. 2. Sing it with a group of singers, so you can all stagger your breaths. 3. Feign a dramatic emotional breakdown if you have to breathe and miss a few words. If all that fails . . . .  4. Sing something else.

I thought it was a perfect little comment. I imagined this soprano (how could she be anything else?), frustrated by his fumbling the “Gloria” again, finally snapped and fired off a note to poor Herb while Father intoned the Gospel. She couldn’t take it anymore, but she was respectful of Herb’s feelings. The “enuf” was her way of softening the blow.

What can you do when member of your singing group is so off key — or sings with such tension — that he or she destroys the blend you’ve worked so hard to create? I have never seen an ensemble director or group member accuse an individual singer of “sticking out,” but I’ve heard sad stories from grown ups whose music teachers ordered them to lip sync, rather than sing. The hurt lingers. When these folks are brave enough to take voice lessons later in life, it’s therapy as much as it is training.

Can anything be done to help the “stick out” singer, without hurting feelings? I’ve observed the following remedies and results.

1. Ignore it. It will go away. This works about once a year, and never while performing. If an obvious problem is continually ignored by a director or fellow members, listeners will question your hearing and/or your sanity. “Good grief, can’t she hear how BAD that sounds?”

2. Call out the entire section. “Tenors, we are screeching on that note like cats in heat!” Sometimes the off-pitch singers get the hint and make the fix, while the rest of the section wonders what they did wrong. There are two pitfalls here: A. Well-meaning singers, singing correctly, may overcompensate and become new problems to ignore (see no. 1). B. Well-meaning singers, singing correctly, will deduce that you’re not accusing them of pitch problems. They will tune out your criticism altogether, even when they really deserve it. This reduces a director to the musical equivalent of Chicken Little.

3. Change the key of the song. This can alleviate a problem in the short term, but it drives perfect-pitchers like me insane. I have been forced to transpose on sight because a couple of singers needed a lower pitch. Their problem was gone, but mine was just beginning, and I resented it.

The best way to respectfully address vocal faults is by assessing and improving vocal function. Improving the function often alleviates the problems.

Be dispassionate when someone keeps hitting a clunker. Simply note what is happening, and ask for information. “We’re under the pitch at measure 17. Mackenzie and Malcolm, what do you feel happening when you sing that note? What happens in your throat before you sing that note? Singers, what can we do when our throats feel tighter on these kinds of pitches? Okay, good answers. Let’s have Mackenzie and Malcolm demonstrate those last two suggestions, and then we’ll all try it together.”

Mackenzie was never directly accused of not hitting the note, she was simply asked to report what was happening before and during her singing. A few singers demonstrated the correct practice, and then everyone tried together. It’s also fun to have everyone actually sing a melody “the wrong way” and then switch to “the right way.” It’s like a mini-master class, and it’s quick. I know it’s not always possible to do this, but when there’s time and the courage to try, the results are amazing.

Yes, addressing vocal faults uses precious rehearsal time, but fixing them benefits the whole group. In the end, it saves time and results in healthier singers and better performances. Do it before you’ve had “enuf.”

3.

Reactions to his blog were mixed. (You can do a quick search for it at the Good Man Project’s Good Feed Blog.) The feedback from his peers — whose tastes run more to hip-hop — was mostly negative, but that was no surprise. Readers old enough to know all the lyrics to Tom Sawyer were supportive and enthusiastic. I wish he had more support from friends in his area, but I know he will find camaraderie eventually.

The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. Last year I started “Chants Occurrence,” a Meetup group that I hoped would help me link up with people who liked Gregorian chant and early sacred music. It was a way for me to handle the sudden musical isolation I felt after my big move to the East in 2010. I was hoping to start a mini-schola, and maybe even bring that group to a church occasionally, because I think St. Augustine was right. But, we all live too far away from each other for that to happen anytime soon. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting a few of the 11 members of the group at concerts, and I’ll see a couple of them at a Vespers I’m singing this weekend in Connecticut. I still hope we’ll get to chant together sometime, but I feel better just knowing they’re out there.

Finding my tribe has not happened the way I thought it would, but isn’t that God’s favorite way of answering prayer? A few weeks ago, recoiling from negative news stories, I found I had an urgent desire to save a life. I prayed to save just one life. Less than 24 hours later, I had an unexpected extra hour in my teaching schedule and out the window, I saw a red-letter opportunity. I walked into a building near my teaching studio, and gave a pint of blood.

I feel better just knowing it’s out there.

I love the Faure Pie Jesu for funerals. It’s short and beautiful. But, I think for my own funeral I would rather not have a soprano soloist. I’d like to be the Star Female one last time. So . . how about The Call, by Ralph Vaughan Williams? I love choral music, too.  . . the In Paradisum from the Faure or Durufle Requiem would be lovely, but I’m practical. I know there won’t be a lot of time to rehearse anything. Do the chant version of the In Paradisum and I’ll be happily on my way. Do Be Not Afraid and I’ll haunt you. I’m tickled at the thought of having a New Orleans Second Line, but that’s hard to come by up here!

The last time I sang the Pie Jesu for a funeral, it was for a baby girl who died in her mother’s womb a couple of days before she was supposed to be delivered. I had just formed a small children’s choir at my parish, which included some of the girl’s older siblings. The parents asked if the children would sing, and they sang God Who Touchest Earth With Beauty. It was heartbreaking, and yet also hopeful. I could feel the sadness in my own voice as I sang, but I held it together. At the request of the parents we also sang Ye Watchers And Ye Holy Ones, a great hymn looking forward to happiness with the Communion of Saints.

My dad played the organ at both of his parents’ funerals, and he accompanied me as I sang Albert Hay Malotte’s The Lord’s Prayer. I know it brought him comfort to be able to play. He also delivered the eulogies. My mother sang at her own mother’s funeral. I don’t think I will be able to do anything but hold my sister’s hand at that time, but we’ll see. When your heart is broken, sometimes music is the only way you can bear it. If I have to sing, I’ll sing.

This week my True Love and I attended a funeral at the same parish where we were married. It was a service of thanksgiving for the life of Laurie, a woman I had never met. The church was packed. The choir sang Herbert Howells’ Pray For the Peace Of Jerusalem. At Communion the choir sang several short motets, including one of my favorites by Theodore DuBois, Adoramus Te Christe. (It’s on my list. It’s quick to learn, too.) We used to sing it at the Altar of Repose on Holy Thursday.

The final hymn was For All The Saints, and we sang all eight verses. I noticed that as I sang each verse, my voice was stronger and stronger, and I was happy to help sing this beloved woman to Heaven. The organist played a dazzling fanfare, and we began the final verse. The choir soared past all of us, with the descant reaching higher and higher. The music in the hymnal got blurry as tears came to my eyes, and I choked up so much I could no longer sing, just listen and be thankful.

The entire congregation stood as the grieving mother and children processed to the back of the church with the casket, while the organist played a triumphant postlude. A few people left the pews, but most just stood and watched. The choir was invited to recess but they remained standing in the loft, motionless. The organist kept his eyes on the music and completed the postlude, and everyone remained standing, weeping silently for the gift of the beautiful woman and the gift of the beautiful music.

Laurie was the organist’s daughter. He played her to Heaven.

Laura Kent Hynes 1962-2012

They are not building a house for a friend

My True Love rolls out some well-known phrases in his musical baritone, over and over again. To friends who ask how he’s doing: “So far, it’s a smooth crossing,” or “beats being poked with the end of a sharp stick.” When he wants more cooperation from the kids: “That won’t butter the biscuit.”

My mother, probably helping her daughters with homework one night, said “it’s a law of physics” one too many times. So now my sister and I insist, to my mother’s bemused exasperation, that everything can be explained as “a law of physics.” This includes Civil War history, cat behavior, manic depression, and home gardening. To my knowledge this phrase has not been trademarked by Stephen Hawking or anyone else. Mom, it’s all yours, congratulations!

My favorite voice guru, Jeannette LoVetri, explains vocal technique succinctly: “A larynx is a larynx is a larynx.” I’d like that on a t-shirt.

I don’t know what phrases or quotes are associated with me. Probably “use your abs!” or “this room won’t clean itself!”

Some of my other favorite sayings:

Can’t never could do nothing. (Who said this? I know my piano teacher Mrs. Norris did, she was from Arkansas. It sounds southern.)

Pants. Flying.

You are flying by the seat of your pants. (also from Mrs. Norris. I was not a great student!)

You are not going to leave this house dressed like a ragamuffin. (my mother, and now me)

Practice what you preach.

There’s no place like home. (thank you, Judy Garland. At the end of a long road trip, my dad would pull slowly into our long driveway, then slow to a stop and gaze lovingly at our house, only steps away. He would repeat that phrase over and over again as the rest of the tired family yelled at him to hurry up and get us into the garage. Originally from the song, “Home Sweet Home”)

Two wrongs do not make a right.

Love your neighbor as yourself.

Pianists can press a couple of keys, brass players can press a valve or two, and the result will usually be the same each time. Singers learn intervals by feeling the resonance in their heads and throats, while listening to the sound that come out of their mouths — and that can mean endless variety of pitch. A tuner can help singers identify intervals before they begin to associate them with a “feeling” in their own bodies.

Music teachers always use common melodies to teach intervals; for instance, the perfect fourth interval sounds just like the beginning of “Here Comes The Bride,” and the opening notes of “Somewhere Over The Rainbow” comprise an octave. Other intervals are harder to quickly identify in music because  . . . they sound weird, they aren’t used in music that people can recall instantly, or they’re hard to sing. To the rescue, a few YouTube videos that I found helpful:

1.  “The Interval Song,” a Latin-beat ditty by a British composer named Django Bates. May also make a good drinking game for college theory students. Sing it a few times and you will know it forever.

2. “Interval Song” by Anonymous. I have never heard this one before but the song and the performer are both really cute. I like any song that attempts to rhyme “octave” and “provocative.”

3. “Intervals In Inversion Song,” by David Newman. I’d like to hand this guy a rose for coming up with this hilarious song. I love the wonderfully sappy piano accompaniment.

4. For kinesthetic and visual learners, check out Leonard Bernstein’s “Young People’s Concerts,” which devotes an entire hour to intervals called  “Musical Atoms.” Might be interval overkill for some, but if you’re at all interested, it’s an hour well spent.

Do intervals really matter? Ask him.

Beatrice (Stella Gonet) and Evangeline (Louise Lombard) from "The House Of Eliott". No copyright infringement intended.

The series, which aired on the BBC in the 1990s (and is now available on YouTube), follows a pair of sisters who launch a fashion house in 1920s London. The plot twists are pure soap opera, mixed with leftover costumes from Brideshead Revisited. But the foundational story is the process of growing a business from scratch.

The sisters — plucky, Kate Hepburn-esque Beatrice and luminous young Evangeline — discover that their selfish father’s bad business decisions have rendered them destitute, while their sheltered upbringing has left them unable to find work. Talented at sewing and little else, the sisters began to turn their deceased father’s expensive old clothes into fashions for themselves. The naturally organized Beatrice finds work as a photographer’s assistant, a few society ladies see their creations . . . and the House of Eliott is born.

As the opportunities grow, so do the challenges. They hire additional help to keep up with demand. They debate closing the doors to become designers at a Paris fashion house (they decline, and then Evangeline has an affair with the boss). Beatrice and the photographer fall madly in love.

Successful but cash-poor, The House of Eliott is under constant stress. Beatrice and Evangeline negotiate loans with condescending bankers who steal from them. Their workers fight. Their first ready-to-wear line is undermined by cheap copies. The photographer, who becomes a filmmaker, is elected to Parliament. The Great Depression begins to affect sales. Even though both sisters marry and Beatrice becomes a mother, the House of Elliott remains their most precious creation.

Jack Maddox (Aden Gillet) with the sisters Eliott. It's always the photographer.

Like Beatrice, I’m a mom in a creative profession, married to a dashing photographer! We’re working and learning about growing a business together — his photography and printing, and my voice studio. We’ve already faced some of the same challenges the sisters faced, and we’ve also enjoyed some of the same happiness when things actually go right. (I also have a beautiful younger sister, but she’s an RN and wears scrubs.) The House of Eliott is a great way to unwind after a long day at the home office. Yes, there are other shows about family businesses, but they don’t have such fabulous gowns.

Intrigued? Here’s another British-accented actress dispensing business advice.

Margaret Tyler, mezzo soprano and Eden Casteel, soprano singing “He Shall Feed His Flock/Come Unto Him“ from Handel’s Messiah. Directed by Joseph Ripka, with Josh Stafford on the organ. Recorded live, Sunday December 18, 2011 at Calvary Church, Stonington CT.

Eden and Margaret, doing the Handelian thing. Photo by the shivering Ronald Cowie.

Sounds of hounds, come hither and get ye flesh! CAMERON NATION!

This is what you do on Provincetown beach at sunset

Teaching students, and learning more about the art and science of singing. You all enrich my life.

Joining The Chorus of Westerly. I’m honored to be part of this community of high-quality choral music makers! Thank you, George Kent and Chorus, for just being you. (Mr. Kent is retiring in 2012, a mere 53 years after he founded the chorus. Godspeed!)

Having my little girl ask me to braid her hair.

Writing, producing and directing Quonnie: The Musical! And releasing it on DVD and in songbook form!

Rehearsing with kids from "Quonnie: The Musical"

Having my son play DJ in the car with his iPod. Even when I don’t like it, I like it.

I’m so blessed to love and be loved by these three people — one tall, one medium, one short.

My family, putting together a new IKEA chair for my office

What’s coming up in 2012:

In May, I’m teaching a week of master classes at my old stomping grounds, Dublin Coffman High School in Dublin OH.

I’m going to cheer for my husband in his second NYC marathon. I’ll run some kind of race, but probably not a marathon.

I expect to continue to practice important life skills I learned from Kenny Rogers.

Quonnie: The Musical gets an encore production in August. I’m going to tweak several scenes.

I really hope this is the year I sell my house in Michigan.

I’ll be singing more, teaching more, creating more. . . living and loving more! I wish the same for you. Have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy 2012. XO EC

Now that I’ve removed my fingernails from the ceiling, let’s talk about flatness. We all do it sometimes. Singing under the correct pitch can be caused by singing notes that are out of one’s natural range, insufficient breath support, or mismatched vowels. Try this: Sing or speak a bright “ee” sound, very nasally, in the front of your mouth. Now, sing or speak the same “ee” in the back of your throat. The pitch goes down, doesn’t it? Try it in reverse: Think of singing “Somewhere, over the rainbow.” Sing the “some” in the very back of your throat, then try to vault up to “where.” It’s eight notes away, but unless you really know where you’re heading, you probably feel very insecure finding that high note. People who sing flat fail to quickly adjust to changes in vowels and changes in pitches, or they fail to maintain adequate air flow while they sing. They don’t hear it or feel it, so they don’t fix it.

Can you fix flatness? Yes! First, hear it: Record yourself singing and then listen to the results. Most people dislike hearing the sound of their own voice, but try to be detached about it, and just listen for pitch accuracy (or ask a friend to listen, and be honest with you). Do you have trouble matching pitch on the highest notes, on the descending lines, or ascending lines? Then, think about what’s going on when you’re flat. Which words or syllables tend to make you sound flat? What’s happening in your mouth and throat when flatness occurs? Do you feel sensations in your throat such as squeezing, stretching, tightening, grimacing? What are your abdominal muscles doing (or not doing) when flatness happens?

Now that you are aware of your particular recipe for flatness, bring in the technology. I love my Sabine MetroTune 9000 tuner (about $29.95 on Amazon.com) for its awesome, Harry Potter-esque name and model number but also for its ability to show singers exactly which pitch they are singing. Even though I have perfect pitch, I’m not infallible — I need help hearing sharp and flat pitches, too. When the tuner tells me I’m singing a flat note or series of notes, I adjust my mouth shape and reinforce my breath support, and sometimes I’ll draw an “up” arrow over the pitch in my music to remember to make those modifications every time I sing. Like many people I have a tendency to go flat on descending lines (think of the beginning of “Joy To The World”), so I slightly adjust each pitch as I head down — I might open my mouth or slightly brighten the vowel. It’s amazing how just a slight change can make all the difference.

There is computer software to test and train the flatness out of your voice as well: The Pitch Perfector can do this in the privacy of your own home, for only $67. If you like sitting in front of a desktop computer, this is probably a good option.

For flat-fighting on the go, use a smartphone app. I just purchased ClearTune for $3.95 and don’t know how I managed without it. It’s a little slower than the Sabine, but it gets the job done. Last week I used it to reinforce intervals with a children’s theory class. Several kids were absolutely certain they were singing a fourth interval (think “Here Comes The Bride”) when in fact they were singing sharp thirds and very flat fourths. I held up the tuner, and they realized how far off they were. Immediately they increased their breath support and sang a brighter tone to achieve the correct pitch. The tuner will save us hours of practice time, because we’ll know instantly if we’re singing on pitch.

When you’re a world famous singer, you can use Auto-Tune to cover all your pitchy sins. But it’s cheaper and better to fight flatness with healthy vocal technique — just tell ‘em you’re using “Ought-To-Tune.”

I wasn’t aware of Jay-Z’s hilarious “D.O.A. (Death Of Auto-Tune)” until recently, but I think he’s right — it’s overused. (Maybe by his wife, too?) So, get a tuner and practice basic vocal technique, and you’ll never sing flat again. Unless you want to end up on YouTube. . . . I like it when she takes out her gum . . . .