Keeping you (and consequently, your instrument) healthy

[This is an article from my Nov/Dec 1999 newsletter.]

One of the disadvantages of being a singer as opposed to an instrumentalist is that if you get sick, you can't perform. If a pianist has a really bad cold, she might not feel up to playing, but if she really had to, she could pull it off. If you, as a singer, have a really bad cold, you have to deal with your vocal folds possibly being swollen and not coming together, causing you to sound breathy or hoarse or not even being able to phonate at all. In November 1998, I had to cancel several weeks of lessons and gigs because I was completely voice-free. And if you do sing on these swollen folds, you risk causing long-term vocal damage.

And some medicines, while making you feel better, don't really help you sing better. Decongestants and antihistamines don't just dry up your nose - they dry up ALL you mucous membranes, including your folds. And aspirin and ibuprofen are great anti-inflammatories, but according to Dr. Anthony Jahn, otolaryngologist at Columbia University:

Aspirin should be avoided if you are prone to gastroesophageal reflux (GERD) ... acid reflux can irritate the pharynx and vocal folds, causing sore throat and hoarseness. What about vocal fold hemorrhage? Aspirin can cause this in singers who are predisposed.

[Since writing this, aspirin has been listed as a medication that can put singers at serious risk of vocal fold hemorrhage, due to its anti-coagulant properties. When in doubt, don't take it.)


In addition, if you take codeine for a cough, Dr. Jahn says:

[t]he three significant side effects of codeine are drowsiness, constipation, and habituation. Of these, constipation may be harmful, as straining on the toilet forces the vocal folds together, and may result in trauma, even hemorrhage.

-- The New York Opera Newsletter, May 1998 

Eww.

Best not to get sick at all! A book that has some great ideas for staying healthy is 77 Ways to Beat Colds and Flu by Charles B. Inlander & Cynthia K. Moran (Bantam Books, 1996). This book goes over understanding colds and flu, gives you tips on prevention, and if you get it anyway, tips on treating it so that you can minimize your discomfort level.

Important tips:

• WASH YOUR HANDS!
• HUMIDIFY YOUR SURROUNDINGS. "Adequate moisture is essential for the proper functioning of mucous membranes, which are the front doors of your upper respiratory system." Which, in turn, in an essential part of what we use to sing. This means that you need to keep the room outside you moist as well as the room inside you - humidifiers externally, drink water and use nasal saline/Neti Pot internally.
• FLU SHOT. Some people never get them and never get sick; some people get them and still get sick. According to the book, they enjoy a 75% success rate. [UPDATE: This is a subject of some controversy these days; some sources say 70-90%, others question its overall effectiveness. Your decision.]
• EAT HEALTHY AND GET ENOUGH SLEEP. When I am stretched too thin, that's when I'm bound to get sick. It used to be that I could hold out until the end of the season, but as I get older, I haven't been as lucky. 

There is so much more. I find this book a very positive approach to avoiding illness and just improving your life in general.

And another great quote that I've been meaning to pass on to you - and this involves habit.

Regarding throat clearing:

When you have a cold, mucus increases and gets thicker, settling on the vocal cords. This causes a reflex action of coughing or clearing the throat. For the short duration of a cold, no real harm can be done. But if the "ahem" routine becomes a habit, you can damage your voice.

Vocal cords are muscles. Each time you clear your throat, you literally bang those muscles together - and they can become inflamed or develop small calluses that can cause temporary, or sometimes even permanent, hoarseness. [Bolding added.]

It's important for any chronic throat-clearer to make a concerted effort to break the habit. The best way is to drink lots of water, which will thin the secretions. Then, each time you feel the need to clear your throat, swallow instead. That way, you'll stop straining the cords - and save your voice.

Dr. Nancy Snyderman,

Good Housekeeping, June 1999 

 

 

Before there were blogs...

Before there were blogs (and LiveJournal and MySpace and Facebook), people actually wrote things to be printed on paper. No, not to be read on e-readers, but actually paper to be held in your hands and read. These were called books, and in smaller forms, newsletters. Archaic, right?

I found a bunch of newsletters that I used to distribute on a regular basis to my students and their parents back in 1999, 2000 and 2001. There are some things that have held up pretty well, so I'm going to be adding them here - with some minor updates, I'm sure. I will have to re-type them, since they were written 4 computers ago and probably saved on 5-1/4" floppy disks. (Don't ask.)

Stay tuned!

It's been awhile - in so many ways!

I have not written for awhile, and in that time, much has happened:

1. I finished my certification for Somatic Voicework™The LoVetri Method at Shenandoah Conservatory.
2. I decided to give a recital at Carroll, which is looming on the horizon (September 23)
3. Out of nowhere, I got hired at Cardinal Stritch University as an adjunct voice instructor, working with musical theater majors and music minors.

The latter is thrilling me. The penultimate is scaring me, but not too badly. It has been at least 12 years since I gave a solo recital. Memorization is coming much less easily than it used to, and I don't think it's because of my age. I am out of practice. The last stage work I did was in 2004, and I haven't done opera chorus in over 10 years. I have done cabaret, but usually the music I've selected for those shows has been music I already knew. Or knew of, at the very least. For this recital, I have only recycled a few pieces - one from my grad recital ("Jugend und Alter"), one older audition piece ("I am easily assimilated"), two Rossini pieces from last November's MacDowell opera recital and three Weir pieces from the March Classical Celtic Concert - and I didn't memorize either the Weir nor the Rossini.

For this program, I am doing 3 Rossini pieces, all of which I intend to memorize, 3 Marx (ditto), the Chausson "Chanson perpetuelle" (not), the Weir (not), 3 musical theater pieces and Corigliano's "Dodecaphonia" (yes). I have two weeks - I think I'm getting there.

It's been awhile since I gave a recital; it's been awhile since I did a classical performance of any substantial length. It's been awhile since I auditioned.

I feel like I can attribute this stagnation to 9/11/2001.

I had an audition for an agent scheduled for 9/15. I didn't sleep the entire week leading up to the audition. I didn't practice. I just watched the cable news obsessively and trolled the internet looking for people who felt the same way. (It also was a few months after a competition in which I sang didn't go as well as I hoped - I was having some major performance anxiety in that year.)

The audition went poorly. Not a completely train wreck - just a half-hearted, un-invested effort. And after that, I just didn't care.

So on the 10th anniversary of 9/11, I resolve to care again. To sing because I'm happy, to sing because I'm free, and to sing because by GOD, I'm good at it. 

The Peabody Curse

When I went to Peabody, I quickly learned about the Peabody Curse - that is, anyone you may be talking about will immediately enter the room while you are doing just that. My friend Sorab adds that the proximity of the person will be in direct proportion to just how badly you are speaking of him or her.

I thought graduating would end the curse. And generally, I don't talk about people behind their backs, and especially not in public places. The one time that I indulged - well, this is what happened.

Yesterday I had lunch with some dear friends. When I came through the door, I saw a local television personality. I see her so often that I automatically responded as though it was someone I knew well and hadn't seen for a long time( (plus the person she was waiting for me came in directly behind me so she was waving in my direction) ... but before I could say, "Hi! Long time no see!," I realized who she was and that I actually do not know her personally. 

So once we were seated, I told my friends that she was on a show that I watch but that she was not my favorite person on the show. I believe I used the word "twit" to describe my true feelings about her on-air persona. I did look to my left when I said this, because that was the direction people were coming from the bar to be seated in the restaurant. I did not, however, look to my right. And guess where she was? In the booth immediately adjacent to us - on the right. Sorab was right about the proximity element: "twit" = right next to you. If I'd said "moron," I hate to think of where she would've been seated. Probably on my lap.

I don't know if she heard me but I'm embarrassed. I'm embarrassed not necessarily for my opinion but for my choice of words and because I shouldn't have been speaking publicly like that. I wasn't thinking. And if she did hear me, I hate to think that she might have felt bad. 

Well, one thing I can say is that she is absolutely beautiful in person and that she was thinner than I thought she'd be. 

But I feel terrible and I wish I hadn't been so snarky. 

The Peabody Curse is only effective if you participate. If you are talking about people in a negative fashion, someone will hear you and whether or not it's the person you're talking about, it doesn't cast you in a good light.

So - unnamed TV personality - I apologize profusely for saying what I said. And friends I was with - I apologize for not being the best person I could be for those 3 minutes of blather. I promise to do better.

Playing Favorites with your Musical Children

This Friday, April 29, Ryan and I will be performing "If Music Be the Food of Love: A Culinary Cabaret" at Carroll University. This is the second of the cabaret shows that I've written for our duo, the first being "Oh, to be a movie star."


As much as I loved the first show, the idea for which ruminated in my head and heart for 15+ years, there is something about the songs we've selected and the medleys we've put together for this show that really makes my heart happy. Especially this go-round, with a couple of different songs that suit us even more than the first time we did the show. 


Each song represents a different theme of food as a metaphor for a different life experience or how it's used in culture. For example, we'll be doing Jake Heggie's "Snake" (original sin); "Vanilla ice cream" (plot twist), "The ladies who lunch" (status) and "If you love me, please don't feed me" (gluttony). 

I know I shouldn't play favorites - "Oh, to be a movie star" might be my first-born cabaret show, but there is something particularly special about "If music be the food of love." (Hmm, kind of reminds me of my relationship with my dogs Dave & Pippin.)

It's nice not to have to depend on a great turnout to break even, unlike our last few shows (curse the February 20 ice storm!), because they're paying us and there's no admission fee. But a great turn-out would be welcome not only because I'd love to have a full house, but because I think this is a great show and you'll all have a good time! And I have to admit - I want people to come so I can pull a Sally Field and say, "You like me... you really like me." (Well, hopefully not aloud.)


I've been kind of afraid of saying that because I don't want to sound petty or needy, but hey - I've attended a lot of performances over the past few years and reciprocation would be really, really nice.

So - come. Bring people. The show should be over by a little after 8pm, so there's plenty of time to go and grab a meal somewhere in Waukesha County. Lots of good food to be had, and after listening to us sing about food for an hour, you should all be hungry. (Another reason we cut "Have a little priest" - so people wouldn't be thrown off their feed.)

How to talk to a tenor (or any singer).... some thoughts

I went to a pre-conference workshop (Pedagogy Saturday) on March 26 and attended a session with the above title. It was run by two teachers, one piano, one voice, and was intended to foster communication between singers and pianists, especially those who are young and not used to collaborating. Also some things about playing for students if you're not really a pianist (hello!) or coaching singers if you're not really a singer.

There were some good things about it - some things that reinforced what I am already doing in my own studio, some good ideas - but what bothered me was 

1. The title. Kind of reminded me of Ann Coulter's How to talk to a liberal (if you must), which advises her readers to be deliberately combative and never see an opposing point of view as having any validity. (If you agree with her, don't share it with me. I'd rather continue to think of anybody reading this as being gracious and open-minded.) It seemed to play up the "Us vs. Them" mindset or, more specifically, "Musician vs. Singer." 

2. At the end, they addressed "what if the pianist is wrong?" by telling us that the singer should take the blame.  "I didn't get that pitch - could you play that opening again?" 

That ... is ... so ... girly. 

And it made me think that maybe I need to do some writing about collaboration - from a singer's point of view, from a woman's point of view, from a pedagogue's point of view. How do we work together without becoming subordinate to our collaborator? Or making them feel like they are "wiggling their fingers in the background" while we take center stage? (Great perspective on that - see Ben Moore's song "Content to be behind me," about a diva who dismisses her pianist's prodigious chops as being all for her.)

Hm. This is something to think about.

Musings on an April Fool's Joke - one year later

Last year, someone wrote me a terrible email  criticizing me for talking too much in my lessons and not being worth the "very expensive" rate that I charged - it was signed "Anonymous" and came from someone identified as "S S" along with an email address that I will not post. I was hurt and embarrassed and wrote back to the person apologizing but also stating that if ever a student felt like he or she was not getting his/her money's worth, I would want to be told. The next email I got was "April Fool's! I hear you're a great teacher." And then the next day, an apology (still anonymous, still claiming that the person was not my student but just someone who was angry about something else and took it out on me).

It changed me. It made me examine my teaching style and made me realize that perhaps at times, I had been self-indulgent (maybe because both my parents had died within the past six months) and had shared too much about my life, primarily from a musical/career POV, thinking that what I was saying would offer some perspective from my vast life experience that they could use in their lives. Especially with people who seemed to be going through similar things that I had gone through at their age, and who seemed to be hurting. That was what I intended, but clearly not what was being perceived.

It made me realize that -

That's not what I'm not here for.  My students are not my peers, nor my children. If they ask for my advice on a non-music related matter, I will offer it (if it's appropriate), but I cannot offer unsolicited and in the case of the person who wrote the email, unwanted advice. It's not part of my pay grade.

I don't believe for one moment that this was an April Fool's joke nor that it was someone who wasn't a student of mine. I believe that it was someone for whom I crossed a line, albeit unintentionally, and who didn't have the guts to tell me. I believe it was someone who was going through a very similar situation to my own high school experience who I ached to help, but who was unable or unwilling to accept my help. And I probably would have responded the same way at that point in my life (although technology being what it was, mine would have been an anonymous letter that I never would have sent because I would have discarded it long before it getting to the mailbox - ah, the advantages of the pre-internet life). I also believe it was a she because guys simply don't handle things like that. I do believe that she was angry about something else and did take it out on me. That I believe.

As a result, I limit my chatting to the stretching portion of our lessons. I try, anyway - hey, I'm a Gemini. I chat, therefore I am. It hasn't changed my students' development - they are still as accomplished as before that email hit my inbox. They still win awards, get accepted to music programs, are cast in their musicals. What has changed is me. I am not as emotionally invested in my students as I used to be, and while that's probably a good thing, it's also a little bit sad. I'm warier now than I was a year ago. I trust a little less. My guard is up.

I hope that whoever "S S" was, she's less angry now. But I also think that I've changed because of her email. Not sure if I should thank her or not - it was probably the most hurtful thing I've ever received - but clearly, if it struck such a nerve, there was some truth to it.