I throw things at my students.

Well, we throw things back and forth

One of the things humans worry about is Getting it Right – singing the right notes, being Perfect. An unintended consequence of worrying about whether we’re Getting it Right is that we sometimes try to sing without actually letting any sound come out of our bodies. We sing to a point that’s only just beyond our nose so that we can judge whether or not the sound is any good before someone else hears it.

But it’s too late for that. The sound’s already been made. We have to give up on the idea that we can make a sound and then decide whether to share it. We have to let the sound sail out of our bodies, and land where it will. Lucky for us, no one will get hurt. A great image – and activity – for this is in throwing a light, easy ball, or a small stuffed animal as you vocalize. Whoop! Whee! AHHH! 

Often in private lessons, a student and I will spend some time tossing soft things back and forth: pillows that look like soccer balls, a stuffed bear, bunny, or a duck. Whoop! Whoa! Whaa? We make some bad throws, some bad catches. No one gets hurt. Our voices loosen up, and we learn how to let the sound move away from us and into the room. 

This is part of what I mean when I say, if it’s not play, it’s not working. 
Play ball.

Sing Alleluia, Alleluia!

Most Sundays at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Berkeley, I lead the Singing Praise. The congregation is standing, having just joined in the Call to Worship, and a member comes forward to light the chalice. At that moment, I sing something, and the congregation sings it back. There’s nothing to read or hold on to, but if you’re looking up, and your ears are open, success is pretty much guaranteed.  Why would that be a good thing? Because not everyone in the congregation can read. Because folks come to church seeking connection, and standing together, singing together, being awake and responding together connects us to one another faster than anything else I know. Kids can do it, grownups can do it, and over the last eight or nine years of all of us doing it, I’ve noticed that we all sing more confidently.

If you’re in the bay area, come by and sing it sometime. Summer worship starts at 10 a.m.

And if you’re wondering what Unitarian Universalist means, check this out.

Embracing the Weird

Singing and speaking use the same muscles, the same breath, but very differently. Singing well, by which I mean, singing with a solid tone that sounds sweetly effortless, requires that we teach our body new habits just for singing. I say just for singing because, for the most part, these are not behaviors that are welcome on the telephone, talking to the loan officer, having that heart-to-heart with your beloved. I notice that when I ask my students to try them out, they almost universally report, “that was weird.” 

Singing better means embracing the weird. 

We have been using our voices since birth. No one taught us how to utter that first cry, it just came out, and it probably meant, “I’m cold, scared, and hungry.” After a time we learned to coo and laugh. Then, mama, more, why? We learned to form words and to make ourselves understood. We copied the people around us and kept doing what worked, and stopped doing what didn’t. We figured it out, this talking thing. If you’re reading this, chances are you’re pretty good at it. 

Perhaps it goes without saying that if we had needed to learn to scream, we all would have starved. This is part of the fundamental weirdness of studying singing. We don’t have active control over all of the muscles we’re trying to train. 

We can control some of them, though, and that’s where the fun begins. 

Broadly speaking, good singing happens when the jaw is relaxed and open, the tongue is relaxed and forward, the shoulders are relaxed and broad, the chest is lifted and wide, the breath is easy and low.

One place to start, to learn a new habit, is to place the tip of your tongue on your bottom teeth and say, “Twinkle, twinkle little star. How I wonder what you are!” You may sound to yourself like you’re now between the ages of three and five. As you do this, let your jaw relax, so that your mouth moves freely, sort of like a puppet, and elongate the vowels, as you would if you were singing. You might let your fingers rest gently on either side of your face, encouraging your cheeks to relax, too.  It may feel like effort to let your mouth open this much, but with repetition, the jaw does learn to loosen and singing with a taller mouth gets easier. 

Try saying something else. “Could we please refinance our mortgage with no points?” “Do you carry any Australian Pinot Noir?” “Do you think your brother’s family could host your mom’s birthday this year? I’m really tired of doing all the work myself.” 

Do you hear what I mean about new habits just for singing? And, it is great fun to read the paper, recite nursery rhymes, carry on a conversation with a good-humored friend in exactly this way. You will crack yourself up, and over time, your speech will get clearer, as your tongue learns to move differently. 

If you know the tune to “Twinkle, twinkle little star,” try singing it in this way. Tip of the tongue on the bottom teeth. Jaw relaxed and moving freely. Hands reminding your cheeks not to smile. 

What’s that like? Tell me about it! 

Oh, What a Beautiful Morning

Most of the time when I drive into San Francisco to the VA Hospital, I take the "long" way – over the Richmond-San Rafael and then the Golden Gate Bridge – because it is so beautiful. Whether in fog, rain, or sun, this path across this bit of Earth is absolutely stunning. It's worth paying two tolls. It's also about 20 minutes faster than taking the Bay Bridge and then bushwhacking my way to the Pacific, and I'm usually late leaving home.

In early 2009, I started a chorus for residents of the VA's Community Living Center at Ft. Miley. The singers range in age from 60 to their mid-90s. Most are in wheelchairs. Twice a month we sing together songs we have known for a long time, performing about four times a year for other veterans and their families. We start each rehearsal with, "Oh, What A Beautiful Morning" and very quickly, if it wasn't already, it is a beautiful morning for just about everybody.

We’re preparing a 4th of July program right now – mostly patriotic songs, and “When I Fall in Love” and “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” These have never sounded so good to me. Robust, and full, heartfelt and true.

Singing certainly does a body good. It lowers our blood pressure, increases our lung capacity, relaxes and engages the mind, strengthens the connections among us. And, this CLC Chorus reminds other people that joy is possible. When we carol in the clinic lobby in December, people stop in their tracks, and tear up, and say “Thank you for singing for me. It is so beautiful.” The Chorus’ singing is as much a public service as it is good exercise, and they are so proud to be doing it. 

Oh, what a beautiful morning! I've got a wonderful feeling everything's going our way.