Not long ago, a new singing student was referred to me by a good friend of mine, Jim Stenborg. She's a lovely lady in her mid-fifties who has a full-time job, but something inside her insists that she make the time to sing. When students come for the first time, they're often a little nervous to sing, but we have to have a starting place--so she sang. Her voice was lovely--sweet and expressive--a soprano. But her sound was small. Sometimes a small voice is what someone is born with. More often than not, it's a combination of the timidity that can come when one dares to "bare the soul" and sing for a stranger for the first time--and the lack of enough good vocal instruction. She happens to love the standards--songs from Frank Sinatra's, Bing Crosby's, and Rosemary Clooney's heyday. I could hear that she was unfamiliar with her chest voice, and I began to encourage her to explore it. I asked if we could lower the keys of some of the songs she sang, and she was agreeable. So, we began a relationship with her chest voice. When a singer hasn't spent much time with the chest voice, it can often sound a little raw, or uncouth to their ears initially--and feel a little wierd in their throats, even. But I assured her I wouldn't do anything to hurt her already-nice soprano voice. I told her that--as strange as the chest voice may sound and feel in her lesson--when she got home, and listened to the recording she was making of her lesson, she was going to like the color, or quality/soulfulness of her voice singing predominantly in her chest voice. The chest voice, which often actually buzzes in the chest bone of a singer is very close to the heart chakra, and songs sung in the chest voice tend to be passionate, ardent and soulful as a result. They sort of can't help but sound that way because of the proximity to the heart. Well, she's taken to the chest voice like a duck to water. She's having the greatest time with her new discovery, and she's begun to share this newfound voice of hers to her friends--and they've been so lovely and supportive in their responses to her. She sent me this email today (the day before my birthday). As a voice coach and voice teacher, I couldn't be given a finer present than this email.
"Hi Phillip--
Forgot to wish you a "Happy Birthday." Not sure of the date, but you did mention it before your trip to North Carolina.
Also, I was singing in the car on Madison Avenue today, and a gentleman with a bicycle came by the car and said he was listening to me sing and wanted to hear more. I was singing "Taking a Chance on Love." He thought I sounded great. Anyway, he mentioned that he took singing lessons about ten years ago and really misses it. He sang with me for a little while -- I thought he had a nice quality to his voice, although he hasn't sung in a number of years.
I suggested he get back to doing something he loves, and gave him your name. Who knows, you may hear from him! His name is Bill Evans. He said that years ago he would get calls from various women who were looking for the jazz pianist, Bill Evans.
Life is certainly an adventure.
See you Friday evening.
Regards,
Jeanette"What a great story hers is: there she is--singing her heart out in her car, a bicyclist hears and befriends her, wants to hear more, and they sing together a little before he pedals off and she drives off. Life is indeed an adventure!
