I noticed a story in today’s local paper about Britain wanting to increase its naval presence in the Persian Gulf. I immediately thought that the Persian Gulf was quite a long way from the mist-shrouded shores of Great Britain.

This story also reminded me instantly of the Suez Crisis of 1956. This is when Britain, France and Israel fought back against the nationalization of the Suez Canal by a newly nationalistic Egyptian government under Nasser. The USA at that time told them to back off and reminded them that responses common during a colonial era were no longer appropriate, and that new geo-political patterns had emerged. The former colonial powers were also told that they would have far fewer opportunities to throw their weight around and that the new super-power in town (then, the USA) would be calling the shots.

I predict that the same thing will happen in the Persian Gulf with the West’s confrontation with Iran. However, in this case it seems like the most of the West will fall into the role that Britain and France played at the time of the Suez Crisis.

If the current Iran confrontation becomes a live war—and it increasingly looks like it will—then countries of the West will be told in no uncertain terms that the rules of the game have changed, in a similar way to 1956, and that they should back off.

I predict that China and other BRIC nations will be the ones doing the telling this time.

I just saw this 2008 film, which won an Best Actress Oscar for Kate Winslet. It is an unusual film in that it combines two things that are not commonly connected: the issues of illiteracy and of German guilt over the Holocaust.

The film is about an intense affair in the summer of 1958 between a gifted high school student named Michael Berg and an older but still attractive working-class woman named Hanna Schmitz, played by Kate Winslet. Hanna is a lonely, somewhat bitter person—a type not unusual in post-war Germany. Later it turns out this woman was an SS guard at Auschwitz who participated in atrocities during WWII.

In The Reader the boy introduces Hanna to literature by reading to her. The boy is a conduit for this women to the world of literature—a world to which she has had little previous exposure.

This boy is a good position to be this conduit because he is lucky enough to be getting a good education within a classical system, which traditionally has had the goal of furthering the possibly counter-intuitive idea that books are the foundation of culture and that to understand what their contents mean is a necessary and perhaps sufficient aspect of becoming cultured.

The thing that Hanna most values in her affair with the boy is having books which she has not yet read, read to her.

When the boy reads to Hanna at the beginning of their affair, he lacks two important bits of information: first, that Hanna is illiterate, and second, that she is a former guard at Auschwitz—a job which one can assume is soul-destroying for both its victims and perpetrators.

Later, at her trial for war crimes, it becomes clear that an important, undisclosed factor in her choice of career path is influenced greatly by her illiteracy: she probably joined the SS in order to avoid having to read on the job. The film skillfully uses fact this not to excuse her behavior but to add an element of ambiguity to the moral choices she made. In the end, she is made a scapegoat for the institutionalized criminality involved in running extermination camps, which of course were designed to humiliate and eventually kill most of the people they processed.

In the movie, the Michael Berg character at Hanna’s trial is in a position to bring a crucial fact to the attention of the authorities: that Hanna was and is illiterate and couldn’t have been the one to write and organize the atrocity for which Hanna is being tried. She is guilty of a war crime certainly, but that she was probably not its ring-leader.

Berg decides to do nothing and his failure to act causes him pain. It is presented as him having the chance to step up to the plate but that he declined this opportunity. He let the moment pass and paid for his passivity for the greater part of his life. It is only much later, when he tries to connect to his estranged daughter that he begins to open up and start telling what he knows. The film implies that this opening up creates a new beginning for Berg.

In the context of the time, to defend a former SS guard, in a country which was eager to exploit scapegoats, would take significant courage. He lacked this courage at the time.

One message of the movie is that even if you are, in effect, helping a former Auschwitz guard, you should still behave morally. This lesson is one that Berg’s law professor tries unsuccessfully to teach his student.

The second takeaway is the profound life-altering choices and behaviors that illiteracy can make on people. People, if they are illiterate, usually view their illiteracy with shame. They blame themselves for being illiterate. Having two dyslexic children ourselves we have seen this dynamic first hand.

A failure to read is taken to be a general failure in personality, intelligence or motivation. It is presented as reason for feeling personal shame. Unfortunately, the idea that non-readers are either lazy, bad, or stupid is as prevalent today as it’s always been. It remains as one of society’s most enduring and destructive stereotypes and prejudices.

It seems that the reason most people are illiterate is either because they have not had the opportunity to learn, or that their brains are not structured in a way that their learning to read is natural. Luckily, reading is a skill that most children take to like ducks to water.

In the movie, it is not clarified why Hanna doesn’t read: is she from an impoverished background, or is she dyslexic? Probably, a little bit of both.

One of the most moving points of the movie is when Hanna and Michael go on a cycling holiday into the countryside and happen upon a church or abbey in which a children’s choir is practicing.

Hanna, who remember, is hiding two fundamental secrets—that she is former death camp guard who also happens to be illiterate—sits down on a pew and listens to the choral music wafting from above. The expression of astonishment on her face when she finds this performance moving is priceless.

Her look is one of disbelief that she wasn’t aware that such a thing existed—that children’s voices singing choral music can be an overwhelming sensory and aesthetic experience. She seems to silently ask her boy lover “Were you aware that such a thing existed?” He seems to reply: “Yes, I was aware it existed and I’m moved that you find it moving.”

This brings us to the underlying mystery of the 20th century—how a country, Germany, which has made so many fundamental contributions to world culture in literature, philosophy and even choral music—could descend into the utter darkness of a place like Auschwitz.

What The Reader encourages is the idea that this question is more nuanced and ambiguous than it first appears and that truth is ultimately stranger than fiction.

Recently, I visited Halifax, Nova Scotia to celebrate my brother’s 60th birthday. I have a long history in Halifax. My parents, when they were alive, lived about 30km down the coast. I went to architecture school there. I know the city fairly well, yet I found this recent visit to be a bit different than previous ones.

I have always liked visiting Halifax because it is a charming place with various seaside attractions, great wooden architecture, charming old buildings, military fortifications that you climb around on and an interesting waterfront. These things are still around.

For English-speaking Canada it is older than most cities. It is not nearly as old as Montreal or Quebec City, but it doesn’t give the sense that it is a big-box mall pretending to be a real city. It is the real deal.

In the past, despite the relative poverty of NS compared to Ontario there was always this sense that the government looked after most people, and that regardless, even if things were not that prosperous in the interior of the province, at least Halifax which is major regional service centre, would do alright.

What surprised me is the contrast with where I live, Hamilton, Ontario. Previously, Ontario always was the ‘have-province,’ while Nova Scotia was the ‘have-not.’ This is why in previous generations, the traffic would usually go from Nova Scotia to Ontario, Quebec or out West. If you had ambition you would leave town for greener pastures. I found it hard to conceive of any other pattern until now.

Now it looks like if you want to enjoy a charmed life, you might want to consider living in Halifax.

Halifax has beautiful women jogging by in Lululemon gear, eager cyclists who look like they are rushing to a software design seminar. There is no shortage of trendy coffee shops, Japanese lunchtime spots and bike stores selling touring bikes that you could use to explore the Cabot Trail. It looks like a bit like pre-recession College St in Toronto.

Halifax also has a fantastic full-length waterfront boardwalk and a state-of-the-art Farmer’s Market that would not look out of place in Zurich or Oslo. You can imagine well-heeled American tourists tripping over themselves to buy souvenirs in the shops or drinking micro-brews in dozens of stone-walled pubs.

Ontario these days, on the other hand, is taking on some of the rust-belt characteristics of say an Ohio, Michigan or Pennsylvania: the implosion of a once-prosperous manufacturing sector, cities in which new investment or civic amenities go wanting, or even civic governments that care about what citizens want. There is gloom in the air here and many residents are at a loss in how they feel about that.

Of course, the rest of the country, raised on the idea that Ontario always thought much too highly of itself and its alleged cultural advantages, is delighted in this reversal of fortunes.

Things that a cities like Hamilton or Toronto might learn from Halifax:

• Civic amenities such as integrated bike path systems, farmer’s markets and waterfront boardwalks are very effective in attracting educated young people, as well as visitors. These people are always on the look out for new progressive places to set up shop (especially right after they get their professional degrees at Dalhousie).
• A place has to feel ‘cool’ in order to attract these kind of people. Perceptions of being cool come from many interactions that people might have while visiting and can’t easily be manufactured on demand.
• Reactionary or ‘Tea Party’ style politics is the opposite of cool. It is a symptom of a place in decline; it is when people with money feel that in order to protect what they have, they have to start oppressing those without. This tactic never works out very well for economic and cultural development in a city. A civic race to the bottom will never win any place new friends. Downward spirals are never pretty. Life cannot be not just about lowering taxes for people who already enjoy the fruits of the status quo.
• Political systems must give the appearance of being responsive to not only the practical aspects of life but also the deeper issues such as quality of life, art and design.
• A city is should at least appear to be interested in high design standards for new civic infrastructure and the idea that cities should have amenities that give pleasure. In places where the weather is not all that attractive, design can fill a very useful niche.
• Cities must work flat-out–continuously–to attract newcomers with new ideas and preferably a bit of money, otherwise they soon whither and die.

Hi Stephen,

Thanks for your reply. It got me into thinking about what I like about your work and site.

I think that people learning music really don’t get the basics about music theory. I think music is one of those things that you can do quite happily for years – perhaps your whole lifetime – and not understand the basics of music theory. In my case, I can play many instruments but have never had the sense that I really ‘get’ the fundamentals (I am a middle-aged architect and writer).

This is fine for many who may lack an understanding of these basics but eventually they will hit a wall beyond which they will not be able to go further. Then they must go back and try to understand how the system works on a deeper level. For many this is too daunting a task.

For instance, if you want to start composing music then some knowledge of music theory is essential. I think a lot more people would compose if they just understood enough about how music theory works. Probably, lots of people don’t compose because of this reason.

A lot of music theory involves acquiring an understanding how Standard Musical Notation works. This appears to be a very powerful system that abstracts out a lot of complexity. The more I learn about this system I more I can appreciate its power and elegance.

Standard Musical Notation is similar to modern computer programming languages. The best ones abstract away a lot of complexity and allow the brain to begin to think creatively about the real problem at hand, which I believe is about self-expression and making deeper connection between ideas.

What I like about the Music Theory Guy approach:

• It assumes that anyone can learn this stuff, that is, music theory expressed in Standard Musical Notation
• It is appropriate for all ages
• It goes step by step and it is modular in approach
• It proposes that music theory is not some add-on at the end but that it is essential right from the start
• It doesn’t try to shame people if you don’t know it (why feel bad about something if it has never been adequately taught to you?)
• It explains it in a way that is just about impossible to not understand, if you go through your material enough times.

I find I go through your videos many times because I find them soothing to listen to. I will never tire of hearing about the Circle of Fifths, which I consider to have information packed into it than anything else I know. [Perhaps I should finally commit this thing to memory!]

I have no criticisms of your approach whatsoever. I would just like you to keep on going. This I see as an open-ended process that could go on forever.

If you were to keep on going on this project then eventually you would be explaining ideas about modern music which most assume are completely beyond their understanding. You would have provided for the public an unbroken chain of tuition which could help many to get to an advanced level of musical understanding. This I see as a significant accomplishment.

The questions I have about music theory are (these are just ideas for future work, not as requests for information):

• The standard musical notation system obviously has a long cultural history behind it. Will this system evolve or is it fine the way it is?
• Will future styles of serious or popular music eventually hit a wall in which the notation system will become inadequate? Will ‘reform’ of Standard Musical Notation ever become necessary?
• In my experience in software design, great progress is enabled sometimes with the design of new languages and systems of notation. Is music in a similar position?

On a more pedestrian note:

• How do melodies and chord progressions work? Do they just use the notes of the key the song is in?
• The Nashville Numbering System seems like an accessible way of describing chord progressions and the structure of popular music. (e.g. 1, 5, 4 instead of I, V, IV). Does such an idea have any value in serious music education?
• Should children be taught how to compose at the same time they are taught how to play an instrument? (We have twin sons aged 11 who are fortunate to have an excellent music education program in their local state school). Do you think these boys should be taught how to compose, say in Sibelius Junior Version?

Thanks and look forward to seeing more Music Theory Guy videos in my inbox!

Michael

This is a good move because it takes the cycling debate away from excessive politicization (e.g. ‘war against the car’) into a less heated, more evidence-based, epidemiological direction.

Most cyclists would agree that cycling in places like Toronto is much more dangerous than it needs to be. Lots of cyclists get killed. One reason is the limited scope of cycling infrastructure in the city.

Toronto has an increasingly crowded and chronically underfunded public transit system. Cycling should be a sensible way of getting around town. But too often it isn’t. Many more people would cycle in Toronto if only it were made safer.

Yesterday at school, Ben had a demonstration of a road bike simulator that allowed him to compete and pedal against other kids. He won his race. He now has great enthusiasm for the idea that there is fun to be had behind dropped handlebars.

He had this brainwave in Dundas, Ontario which just so happens to be an excellent place for road biking. There is a charming road-bike themed cafe in the centre of Dundas as well as an excellent bike shop. Dundas lies directly under the Niagara Escarpment. Road bikers really like going up and down the Escarpment.

A teacher of Ben’s remarked that kids who pursue the sports of swimming, running and biking have the highest grade point averages in high school (which is something I didn’t know). It might be because these sports demand that the student focus intensely on repetitive, yet enjoyable, tasks.

A recent trip to Pittsburgh illustrated something striking about the eating habits of two countries we’ve lived in: USA and the Netherlands.

In the USA the pattern for food portion size is ‘more is more.’ In the Netherlands it is ‘less is more.’ As someone who watches his weight, I have come to appreciate the Dutch approach.

In America, portion size is a market-driven phenomenon. There the market dictates that people should be presented with more food than they will ever need. Food in low-end restaurants — which we tend to frequent — is glossy, high in saturated fats and involves comically high calorie counts. We all know where this leads, and it isn’t pretty.

But as a tourist, this can be an attractive and entertaining proposal. “Let’s take another trip to the buffet, we’re on vacation!”

This is fun in the short-term but it does encourage obesity. It is a lead anchor wrapped around the ankle of the American public. It is death by a thousand cookies.

Clearly, open buffets are more a threat to the survival of the USA than are jihadists. “We have found the enemy and it is us.”

The Netherlands, in contrast, is a deeply Calvinist country where food is looked on a necessity for sustaining life rather than a cheap entertainment, or something that will being pleasure. You eat to live, you don’t live to eat. New visitors are sometimes taken aback by this, trained as they are to view the Dutch purely through the prism of soft drugs and prostitution.

I have been through many a Dutch office luncheon, which typical involves rolls with a single slice of cheese. They carefully count out the quantities required so if there are ten attendees there are exactly ten rolls.

When you first encounter this behavior you are taken aback, trained as we are to see an affluent society as one in which there is always more than enough to eat.

When the Dutch see food consumption become a pleasure they call this ‘Burgundian.’ This suggests a more Catholic, free and easy approach to food, as found in countries to the south such as Belgium and France. These countries are known for the quality of their food as well as a complete lack of Protestant guilt in consuming it.

However, as a way to run a country there is much to be said about limiting caloric intake and fostering guilt in consuming more than you need. It lengthens lives and increases the quality of life. This is why the Dutch are so tall and slender. They save money, look great, all the time honouring their forebears who survived hard times with a few potatoes and a stinky herring, eaten from a wooden bowl.

One thing about fatness is that the rich tend to be less fat than the poor. This is especially true in the USA. As Duchess of Windsor said: “You can never be too rich or too thin.” In Pittsburgh, obesity appears to be a problem. In Manhattan, much less so.

By this logic, the Dutch take the path of the trophy wife or the socialite, while many Americans the path of those less interested in the social value of their appearance — they depress their ‘market value’ by their discretionary, dietary behaviors. This is somewhat puzzling in a highly competitive, market-driven economy. In Europe it seems there is a socially acceptable ‘floor’ beneath which most prefer not to tread.

Of course you can have both a highly developed ‘Burgundian’ approach to food, as well as a tendency not to become huge. This is what you find in many countries, such as France, Belgium or Japan. These places seem like the best of both worlds. Obesity there is less of an issue, while excellent restaurants attract both fat and thin.

This is probably why so many Dutch vacation in the south of France.

The LRT (light rail transit, a scheme to use streetcars for public transit) seems like a smart idea — one that will encourage productivity and the generation of cultural and material wealth in this city. I believe it will encourage urban revitalization and help to create a critical mass of other good things happening.

First, a personal disclosure. If the LRT is built it will help us personally: the proposed LRT B-line is down at the end of our street. It will surely raise our property values. But since the B-line is many kilometers long, many in this city might be in a similar position.

There have been several articles in the last few weeks suggesting that the LRT concept doesn’t have much support from the current mayor and his city manager.

I believe that if this opportunity is not seized right now the momentum will be lost.

There is an argument that all-day GO train service is more important than LRT. Most LRT supporters would not pit these two issues at odds with one another. They are surely complementary: all-day GO train suggests that much money for Hamilton can be made in Toronto, while the LRT plan suggests that money might be made right here in town. Both ideas should be able to co-exist in perfect harmony.

Transparency of decision-making

One of the benefits of democracy is that decisions are made in an open manner. If a bad idea is about to be axed then it is clear from the public record why this occurred. If an idea is good and it gathers support from many sectors of the population then you expect it to do well.

The enemy of democracy is the idea that the real decision-making takes place behind closed doors.

The reason that doors are usually closed in what is purportedly a democratic process is that the people making the decision to be not want to be held accountable for their own decisions. They want the power to make the decisions but not suffer the consequences if these decisions turn south.

This latest LRT decision seems to fail the transparency test. It is not clear why this LRT idea — given the broad base of support which it has gained — was so abruptly de-prioritized. Is there something here that the ordinary citizen is missing?

Post-industrial malaise and beyond

One thing that really defines current-day Hamilton is the concern about what it wants to become when, and if, all its factories close. In the past, people made money and found employment from industrial production. In the future much less money will likely be made this way.

Hamilton puts itself on the ‘psycho-analytical couch’ perhaps more frequently than other places I lived because it really is puzzling what Hamilton should do for itself in future. I think the LRT debate involves such considerations.

What is clear is that new industries will need to spring up to fill the employment gaps created by the closure of hundreds of Hamilton’s former factories. The nature of these new industries is the source of much debate and anxiety.

This might be like the Pittsburgh experience, but one that is taking much, much longer.

In Pittsburgh it seems like the possibility of a reinvented industrialism was erased almost immediately by the unseemly and quick evacuation of almost all industrial production. If that city was to do well, then people saw that it must go ‘post-industrial.’

The sudden loss of employment in Pittsburgh was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because air quality improved overnight, but a curse because many hundreds of thousand of residents found they had to move from Pittsburgh in order to survive.

At least what this dramatic de-industrialization did was to focus the minds of its civic leaders.

However, in In Hamilton there still might be possibilities of investment and employment in heavy industry.

Therefore, there is significant ambiguity here about whether a post-industrial future might be able to co-exist within a continuing industrial city. There is much to recommend such an idea. Hamilton needs all the money it can get. It is in no position to discourage future industrialization, despite how unattractive this might seem to those who prefer their Hamilton to be grit free.

Therefore, Hamilton may or may not be in the middle of a post-industrial malaise. Yet it may be generations before Hamilton is truly post-industrial. It is quite likely that to become truly ‘post-industrial’ is not even an appropriate goal for Hamilton.

A knowledge economy is certainly attractive in many ways, but what seems most appropriate for Hamilton is a mixed knowledge/industrial economy.

If Hamilton’s economy remains mixed this makes the job of planning for future development trickier. Hamilton must acknowledge the important role that ‘dirty jobs’ play in this city while at the same time encourage — in a forceful way — the influx of people who have no interest in dirty jobs.

LRT and post-industrialization

How then does this involve the LRT debate?

I believe that the issue of whether Hamilton is to have a knowledge-based future or an industrial one is related to the acceptance of the LRT.

LRT seems more aligned to a post-industrial future, while ‘no LRT’ seems best suited to an industrial status quo political position. [I would be interested to know if there is any sociological support for this idea].

In the LRT debate not only the appeal of various technical solutions are at issue but it is also a visioning exercise that involves the psyche of the whole city. What does Hamilton want to become?

In Hamilton there is often the hint of what kinds of pleasures are appropriate for an industrial city of its station. A familiar trope found in the civic discourse is ‘failures that originate in hubris.’ Perhaps the desire for an LRT system — like what you find in the well-heeled cities of Europe — is excessive and unseemly.

LRT opponents suggest that LRT is an inappropriate goal for Hamilton; that it is too fancy, costs too much money and that the public transit status quo is acceptable. LRT supporters counter that the LRT is not only an appropriate and sensible goal but actually the most financially rationally solution.

In the event that Hamilton fails to find its inner Pittsburgh and does not become completely post-industrial in short order, then is LRT still an appropriate solution to public transit and city-building? Many, including myself, believe yes.

Happiness requires effort. People who do little tend not to be happy. People who go through terrible things are not necessarily miserable. Often they can be the happiest people around.

The great Italian humanist Primo Levi is a good example (though I believe he did suffer from depression later in life). Despite the fact he witnessed the Holocaust he was able to write a very moving literary account of his experiences in Auschwitz. I imagine that writing this must have required great effort. But we are so much richer as a result of his efforts.

I think about politicians who promote reactionary ‘solutions’ such as starting wars, policies that further stigmatize the poor and the disenfranchised, or even such relative trivialities as taking out existing bike lanes in car-clogged cities.

Are they following their own political ideology? Certainly. But another explanation is that maybe they’re just being lazy. They don’t expend the energy required to recognize the destructiveness of their words and actions. They don’t attempt to come to better-integrated solutions because such solutions are hard to come by and require effort–sometimes Herculean effort. If they did expend this energy they might realize that the most productive path may require subtleties of thought.

Creative paths or policies tend not to destroy value. They enhance it. Not just for you and your pals, but for everyone. Politics need not be a zero-sum game.

Reaction takes less effort than creative thought because it depends so crucially on received opinion. Received opinion by its very nature is passive. Excessive passivity suggests laziness.

Sometimes the best idea is not the intuitive solution–it is often the counter-intuitive one. Quantum physics is the craziest thing you could ever think of, but it appears to run our universe.

To see the value in counter-intuitive solutions requires lots of thought and a consensus between other sentient beings that good ideas might sound crazy, but they also might just work.

Singing fish

Two things that currently give me great pleasure are swimming and singing. I am a beginner singer but an experienced swimmer. Both of these activities are life-affirming and fun. Both require practice and take years to master. I have learned that both depend critically on learning how to breathe properly.

Breath control is a necessary yet not a sufficient condition for competent swimming and singing.

Though, if you can’t get past the initial hurdles of learning to breathe then it is unlikely you will find much enjoyment from these two activities. But if you do, the rewards can be substantial.

Swimming

When I get into the water I feel like I’m at home in a friendly environment. I have spent many hours swimming towards the bottom of pools and lakes, with not a care in the world. Underwater for me is a peaceful, relaxing place. But lately, I spend less time swimming to the bottom and more time lap-swimming in a chlorinated pool.

With swimming, what you want to avoid at all costs is the sensation of drowning. You get this feeling when water gets into your mouth or nose, and down your throat. Only a tiny bit of water is required. It is very unpleasant.

Another annoyance is the tingling sensation when water gets too far up your nose. These sensations are what turn off many beginning swimmers. The trick to enjoying swimming, of course, is to avoid having these sensations at all.

To do this you need to blow out a steady stream of little bubbles out of your nose — and sometimes your mouth — so no water can get in; you use outflowing air to prevent the inflow of water. By blowing air out of your lungs underwater you also prepare for your next breath at the surface.

When you know how to swim, you don’t think about breathing when you jump into a pool because those skills have been automated through practice. If you’ve achieved this automation, then you can concentrate on other things that might need improvement such as your strokes or body position.

Or, you can simply enjoy swimming and let your mind wander. I sometimes get a lot of thinking done when my mind can wander productively.

One of the reasons I love swimming is that the breathing part causes me no concern or reason to panic. I don’t think about it at all; my body seems to know how to do it all on its own.

Singing

Similarly, one goal of learning to sing is to be able to control your voice so you can produce musical tones without the feeling of panic and impending doom.

With singing there are lots of things to consider: the notes of the melody, their duration and what the lyrics are and what they mean. This can be a cognitively demanding activity — especially when you don’t know how to sing very well.

However, in a performance situation you don’t want to be thinking too much. You want your ‘muscle memory’ to take over and your brain to go into autopilot. You need to automate as much of this skill as possible. This obviously requires lots of practice.

Singing without proper breath control can be like drowning. It is not as serious as drowning in water of course but I imagine it would be very debilitating and embarrassing during a performance.

The remedy is to remember to breathe (best done between words and phrases) and to use your breath efficiently while you sing. If you can’t do this, then just fake it and catch a breath as soon you can, without panicking.

Your vocal chords need air passing over them to create sound. Without this no sound comes out. If you run out of air at the wrong point, then you won’t be able to produce a sufficient volume of sound.

However, if you have lots of air in your lungs then you can fill a large, resonant hall with your dulcet tones, which can be very gratifying.

PS. if anyone needs vocal tuition in the Hamilton, Ontario area, I would highly recommend my singing teacher Lucy Bledig. She really knows her stuff.