In the 5th century B.C., Socrates declared that “the unexamined life is not worth living,” and he challenged each pupil to “know thyself.” These philosophical maxims easily transcend the centuries and apply directly to the craft of singing. Giovanni Battista Lamperti in his book, Vocal Wisdom, writes, “Know Thyself applies to the singer more than to other professions, because to sing well, body, soul, and mind are tuned together to do it.”
Are we bold enough to declare that the unexamined voice is not worth singing? Isn’t it crucial that we, as singers, have a full knowledge of the workings of our individual instruments? Teachers are invaluable—but the reality is that we spend the majority of our singing time outside of lessons. We get various comments about our sound, and what is and isn’t working, from coaches, stage directors, conductors, critics, and even fellow singers. Feedback can be instrumental to our success—or defeat. Singers need to develop the ability to translate the information received, combine it with what we know about our instruments, and problem-solve until the goal is achieved.
Often we are expected to make necessary corrections immediately, so it seems logical that it would be invaluable to have an instruction manual about our individual instruments; a written chart that addresses common pitfalls and the processes that lead to desired results.
I confess that I rarely read instruction manuals. I know they provide pertinent information that could save me time, money, and effort, but I always seem to ignore them and proceed directly to a hands-on approach to learning. As a result, I often don’t know half of the capabilities of many of the items I own. I also needlessly waste time, and find myself frustrated when I am not able to achieve what I desire.
Turning to the instruction manual has always been a last resort, and yet, with the uses, functions, and answers to frequently asked questions clearly printed, my approach seems both asinine and wasteful. Surely, a more efficient way exists.
Christopher Fecteau—a New York-based coach, accompanist, and conductor—introduced me to the idea of creating an instruction manual for my voice. An invaluable collaborator, Fecteau was the first to challenge me to discern the difference between process and result. He would often stop me and ask what I had done to create a certain sound. Initially, my responses tended towards, “it was freer” or “it felt easy.” Fecteau was quick to point out that those answers were the result of specific processes, and unless I was able to pinpoint and understand those processes, I would never be certain I could successfully replicate the result.
His challenge stuck with me and I began to take notes from all my lessons, coachings, and rehearsals, writing down recurring challenges that I faced and the means whereby I was able to correct them. In this search, I found that writing out my findings was crucial. Writing forces me to be exact and is a more reliable means of retaining information. It is also efficient—I don’t have to dig through my entire bag of vocal tricks to figure out which one will bring about a desired result. Instead, I consult my chart, make changes, corrections, and additions as needed, then discuss my findings with my teacher.
It is often a challenge to translate the kinesthetic sensation and understanding of singing into words—but the rewards are a solid, reliable, written understanding of my instrument and its workings. It has seen me through days when my energy is low, when criticism is high, or when I feel disconnected from own voice. It is, like me, a continual work in progress.
As I have journeyed towards this goal of understanding process vs. result and the intricate workings of my instrument, I have faced many challenges, struggles, insecurities, successes, and breakthroughs, but the overall experience has been invaluable. Knowledge is power, and so I continue my journey to examine, understand, and know not only my voice, but also myself. I am encouraged by the following quote from Shakti Gawain: “We will discover the nature of our particular genius when we stop trying to conform to our own or other people’s models, learn to be ourselves, and allow our natural channel to open.”
