The Banal Chew

I have had singing

Like many, I grew up listening to the vinyl albums in my parents' record collection. My father was a pretty decent baritone and had a solid collection of albums by prominent singers of his time, eg, Perry Como, Andy Williams and Johnny Mathis. In my bedroom, I secretly played these albums and sang along...when no one was around, that is, for I was told by certain family members that I couldn't sing and should stick to the clarinet.

When my high-school choir director discovered my voice at a musical theatre audition during my sophomore year, she grabbed me by the ear, dragged me to the corner of the gymnasium and hissed sternly, but affectionately, "If you don't sign up for choir next year, I'm going to pull this ear off."

I do as I'm told, and the next year I signed up for choir. Soon, I was singing in nearly every ensemble possible, from choir to pop group. I began taking private voice lessons, and singing rapidly found its place, along with clarinet and theatre, on my shelf of favourite activities.  

My poor parents just shook their heads as they saw me dive right into yet another artistic endeavour that would cost them a good penny to support. I look back in admiration and with intense love for that support, unwavering and nonjudgemental. 

"Jenny", by Johnny Mathis (words and music by Paul Vance and Jack Segal) was the first song I ever sang as a solo at a school assembly during my junior year. When my choir director asked what I wanted to sing and I presented this song, she didn't bat an eyelid. Yes, it was exceptionally anachronistic, and I have no doubt it caused a good bit of head-scratching among the students and faculty. But I had grown up with the song, and it seemed only right for me to sing it. And sing it, I did, trembling and ready to faint at any moment. And at the end of the song, there was applause, from my teachers and fellow students. The appreciation was hesitant, but I was happy to hear it after many years of being told to shut up while singing along with the radio.

To me, it was official. The geek could sing.

 

Words

There was a recent article in PinkNews about a 54 y/o man (presumably from the UK) who was banned from Facebook after commenting on a food-related post and photo of the British culinary, er, phenomenon known as "faggots".  He simply said that he likes the dish, but the real crime is that he used that word when he did.  

It gets better.  

The 68 y/o woman who initially posted the photo of the food dish was blocked from Facebook for 12 hours.  Reportedly, there was a "Free Eileen" campaign.

Shake my head.

I understand the cringeworthy word above is definitely a wrong one to use most of the time. The Facebook seems to think no one should ever use the word, and they're willing to punish anyone who does.

In case you didn't already know, I am gay and a geek.  I have had more than a fair share of mean-spirited labels tossed my way.  But I disagree with Facebook on this. 

I disagree because the word in question has a few siblings (homonyms) that are so completely different in meaning that they couldn't possibly be disparaging.  "Faggot" is not, like the N-word, a lexeme that originated as a derogatory term.  Usage of the latter word was begun many centuries ago, and today it ranks deservedly as what Dictionary.com describes "probably the most offensive word in the English language".  (If its usage was not begun in a sadistic context, then it quickly slipped down the slope from inappropriate to hatefully offensive.)  

What are these homonyms?  

Collins (published in the UK) defines faggot in two ways:  1) a bundle of anything, but especially kindling, iron bars or balls of chopped meat with herbs; and, 2) a male homosexual.  What Mr Wilkes was referring to with the comment that got him banned from Facebook was not his love of sticks or of men, but of those fried balls of minced offal that most of us would rather not think about in a mealtime context.

When I was studying and working as a professional tenor, I sang quite a lot of works by Benjamin Britten. One of my favorite pieces to rehearse and perform was his canticle Abraham & Isaac.  This is the biblical tale in which Abraham is requested by God to sacrifice his favorite son, Isaac.  In the story, Abraham agrees to the request.  He collects Isaac and takes him, along with a sword and fire-making items, to the top of a mountain on a "hunting trip".  Odiously, Abraham not only lies to his son, but he also asks him to carry the wood that will soon be his own pyre.  In Britten's setting of the tale, when they reach the desired spot, Abraham says to Isaac, "Lay down thy faggot, my own son dear", reveals the true reason for the expedition and readies the boy for slaughter.  Hard stuff, indeed.  That's the drama of it.

At first, it was odd to sing the word, but after researching the term, I accepted the definition and overcame the urge to be ridiculously hypersensitive.  The really tough stuff came with playing the role of Abraham.  (A duet for alto, tenor and piano, Britten's canticle is not a staged work, but it is some of the most dramatic music writing that exists.  Have a listen and see for yourself.)  It was all I could do to keep emotions from interfering with me vocally.  The theatre of the work most assuredly eclipsed any worry over what the listeners might think by me singing this F-word.

I believe that Ms Perrin and Mr Wilkes were unjustly penalized by Facebook.  They were talking about food, and from what I gather, they weren't even engaging in the tired game of innuendo.  This action by the social media giant only served to bolster the argument that political correctness is on its head.  It also devalues the true need for harsh action whenever hate speech does occur. 

Vale Judith

Regrettably fresh on the heels of my post concerning the death of Dietrich Fischer Dieskau, I am sad to compose another, this time commemorating the career of soprano Judith Nelson. She died on May 28, 2012.

Known widely for her work in the field of early vocal performance practice, Judith was one of the American singers who ventured to Europe during the 80s to contribute to the burgeoning interest in historically informed performance of music composed prior to (roughly) 1800. I enjoyed the wonderful opportunity to sing the M.A. Charpentier Leçons de Ténèbres with Judith in the mid-90s. It remains one of my favorite gigs to date.

Here she is singing with Emma Kirkby on their fundamental recording of the Couperin Leçons de Ténèbres.

 

The Voice

A singer colleague of mine posted on Facebook a link to a recent NY Times article about pop music singers (eg, Adele) and their voice disorders and treatments. This post prompted others, presumably trained singers, to write comments that alluded to the fault of using bad technique as attributable to the pop musicians' vocal problems.  This argument always makes me cringe a little.  As a classically trained singer who received good, fundamental instruction in the technique of singing from some very fine vocal pedagogues, and yet suffered an inexplicable, devastating, and still inadequately diagnosed, vocal problem at a time when I should have been at the peak of my career, I have a problem with people who discredit singers suffering from voice disorders simply because of "bad technique".  Not only does it engender the us-vs-them mindset when applied by classical music singers to singers of non-classical music, but it is also just plain shortsighted.  And hurtful.

Of course, all of this has been ushered to current media headlines because of Adele and her cancellation of a great many concerts in North America.  Reading one of Adele's blog entries about this issue sheds insight into just how painful this is for an artist.  As McKinley points out in his NY Times piece, pop and country music singers are under intense pressure to commit to brutal touring and performance schedules, pressure applied not only by their managers and others in the industry who want to make lots of money, but also from a place that is inherently more altruistic:  loyalty to their fans and the desire to give punters what they, as paying customers AND appreciators of the artistry, want and deserve. 

By the way, Adele is a trained singer. She was schoolmates with Leona Lewis at The BRIT School, a performing arts school for secondary school-age students that has graduated a host of UK performing artists, including the late, wonderfully talented Amy Winehouse.  I would venture to guess that Adele's current vocal problems are not solely, if at all, related to technique issues.  She is a singer-songwriter of breathtaking talent, and at such an early age it is simply unfair to label her as a bad singer, as many who have posted comments to an online professional forum within the classical music industry have done.

McKinley quotes a number of voice disorder professionals who report that the issue today isn't that there are more singers suffering from voice problems, it's that singers are more comfortable knowing that they can likely ward off a potential future of no singing by taking advantage of current treatments and better medical technology to get the disorder and/or damage under control. This will also allow for sufficient rest and recovery, albeit under less than ideal circumstances, before the brutal schedule begins again. 

The lesson that needs to be learned from Adele's unfortunate illness is not only that (in some cases) singers should keep proper singing technique in mind--and that includes warm-ups, recovery periods and rest, as well as the "how-to" of vocal production--but that the managers and music industry professionals who push these artists beyond what is reasonable should understand that singing is an inherently athletic endeavor, and the body needs adequate rest and recovery after a performance.  Good athletic coaches would never demand of sports athletes what most pop and country music industry managers and producers require of their singers.

(Photo by 50 Watts, licensed under Creative Commons.)

Plumbing Issues

The verdict is in.  My nose is a mess.

Here's an image from my CT scan last week.

Notice the dog-leg in my septum, which should be a fairly straight line dividing the nose in half. And don't even mention the bony spur...or the extra air sac in my superior turbinate.  Don't know what that means?  Don't worry; you probably don't want to.

For the purpose of comparison, here's an image of a normal nose and sinuses. 

Look at them, lying there and gloating with their perfect septum.  God I hate them.
(Image from ARS.)

Anyway, despite the plumbing issues, there's no dire, visible pathology that requires immediate attention to improve my overall health.  My ENT said that at some point, I will probably have to have surgery to correct the problems, but it's nothing to rush into.

Okay fine.  I just want to be able to sing again like I used to.  When I told him that, he gave me that compassionate look that we've all seen from our medical providers...the one that translates, "Yes, and I wish I could give you the answer you're looking for."

So what's causing the vocal dysfunction?  The upshot: it could be (at least) a couple of things. 

Firstly, there are issues with the hypertrophic (meaty) nature of my sinus passages.  Over the course of my life, upon coping with so many allergies, the mucosal tissue in my nasal passages and sinuses has basically worn itself out.  As a result, it's time to call in some housekeeping assistance in the form of rinsing out my nose twice a day with saline spray.  Hopefully, that will keep the tissues working more efficiently and reduce the drainage into my pharynx...drainage that might be causing the dispatch of signals to my brain that something is wrong, thereby triggering an abnormal vocal response. Wow. Me and mixed signals.  Who knew?

Secondly, there's the teeth grinding that I mentioned in a previous post.  It might be causing hypertonicity (overworking/building) of jaw and neck muscles, contributing to a secondary vocal disorder.  I saw my dentist this week and was fitted for a nightguard.  If that alone doesn't solve the problem, I might have to have caps put on all my teeth to build them up and unhinge my jaw a bit...a big job and thousands of dollars.  Wonder if she'll throw in porcelain veneers for kicks.

Starting Monday, I'm seeing a speech therapist who specializes in hyperfunctional voice disorders.  I look forward it.  I'm ready to get things back on track, vocally. 

They tell me it's rude to laugh at karaoke

Anyway, I think she deserves the MacBook she won for doing this, simply as recompense for being set up.  (She has no idea the only thing being recorded is her, um, vocals.)

By the way, I think most of the work done by Opie & Anthony is really offensive, and I apologize for indirectly promoting them and their site.  Then again, if I ask you not to visit it, you will anyway.

Funny. I have always been scared spitless of karaoke, which astounds me. How is it that someone, who for many years as a professional singer stood in front of hundreds of ticket-buyers and sang Bach, Handel, Schubert and others, could be so completely petrified by the notion of crooning amplified pop music to a crowd of mostly inebriated spectators? But I did it for the first time just last year. I can't say I enjoyed it all that much, and I probably sounded terrible to boot. When the song was over I clambered down from the small stage, blushing intensely from a wicked embarrassment and feeling a bit too much like I did that day long, long ago when my grandmother's elderly neighbor helped herself into the house and caught me hitchhiking under the big top. And so until that shame diminishes, the stirring rendition of "Witchy Woman" that dwells deep inside me will just have to wait.