Chrissie has left the building....

After 15 years, last week I closed the Milwaukee version of my private studio, packed everything up and loaded an incredibly long moving van full of my stuff (as well as one very full Subaru wagon) and moved to Baltimore. That's where I'm sitting right now, in my Baltimore living room writing this while my husband plays Supertramp on his brand new upright.  My furniture isn't here yet - the movers won't arrive till next Tuesday or Wednesday, so I'm kind of in limbo.

My new in-house studio space is also empty - not only of furniture, but of students as well. I will need to start marketing myself sometime this summer. I've joined Maryland NATS, I might have a job lined up at a local community college, and I'll be putting out the word at my alma mater, Peabody, that I'll be ready to go after Labor Day. My summer project will be writing an article about the process of uprooting a successful studio and starting all over for the Journal of Singing (my due date is 10/2013, so keep me honest - ask me how it's going!).

At this time last year, there was nothing more I wanted than to return to the east coast, to a place where I was appreciated as a performer. I didn't start teaching until I'd been back in Milwaukee for about a year. Teaching voice was just supposed to be something I did so I didn’t have to work in an office between gigs. I didn’t know I’d be good at it. I didn’t know I would be passionate about it. I didn’t know that I would actually pass up gigs because I’d rather teach. (Not good gigs, mind you - but there was a time when I’d take any gig just to have a gig.)

Now I want to have it all. I want to perform, and I want to teach. This is a good move for me, I know that. But at the same time, I look at the picture of this empty room where so many people made beautiful music - and the room is not all that's empty. I may fill the empty place in my heart with new students, but the ones I leave behind are the ones who made my heart sing. Not only aloud, but inside. 

Thank you all. 

Feeling like me

Sometimes people come into your life who make you feel more like yourself than you have for a long time. Maybe they don't stay around for very long, but long enough for you to remember who you are and what you want for yourself. And what you are no longer willing to accept.

I've had six months of being on my own sans husband and dogs. At first, I was terribly lonely and awake much of the night, troubled by the quiet house and my own monkey mind (which is a Buddhist term meaning "unsettled; restless; capricious; whimsical; fanciful; inconstant; confused; indecisive; uncontrollable;" I visualize my mind as possessing a small Capuchin monkey running around and wildly flinging feces). But as time has gone on, I've welcomed solitude, probably for the first time ever. And I have to say, I'm more than a little apprehensive of losing it. What is it going to be like to live with someone again?

My students have been my primary focus in the past few months, especially as we worked together on this past Sunday's studio recital. I've gotten to know a few people particularly well, and I've found a new level of creative stimulation that I haven't had as part of my life for a very long time. Ideas coming and going, from myself and others, thoughts on where a scene should go, where a career should go, and where life should go. It's been exhilarating.

It makes me feel like - me. It's not a last desperate grasping for youth; it's a feeling of being vibrant, alive, full of possibilities. Maybe that is a feeling associated with youth, but I don't believe it's limited to a particular age group, and I want to hold on to it and keep building on it. It's the way I felt when I left Baltimore, and it's the way I feel now as I return.

Who am I? I am a singer. I am a voice teacher. I am damn good at both. I want to do both for as long as I can.

What do I want? I want a thriving studio like I had here in Milwaukee with students who absorb information like a sponge. I want to perform again. I want to have the opportunity to take these programming skills I have developed to another level and maybe do some more directing. I'd love to take the scenes showcase and turn it into a separate entity that has its own set of regularly scheduled rehearsals instead of just one frenetic weekend. (Although we've accomplished a lot with one frenetic weekend, if I do say so myself.)

What I'm not willing to accept? Feeling less than vibrant, less than creative, feeling limited. Walking on eggshells. Not being respected. I won't take that from anyone, not in any situation. 

I feel like me again and me is pretty awesome. (Correction: Me am pretty awesome.)

There's been a change of heart

This morning, I sang for an Easter service for the first time since I left St. Paul's Episcopal Church in 2008. I'm used to singing at Episcopal and Christian Science churches, where the repertoire tends to be very traditional. And even though I'm not currently subscribing to any particular faith (does our Lady Queen of Brunch count? what about Zumbafarian?), I am a traditionalist in terms of worship music. I love to sing and listen to plainchant, Renaissance motets, Bach Cantatas, Mozart Masses, bombastic late Romantic Anglican anthems, and the like.

So when I was asked to sing at a Unity Church in Elm Grove, and to sing contemporary Christian music, I had second thoughts. And then I was told the fee was $100 and those went out the window.

When I received the music, I groaned. And then I sang it, and I shrieked. As a snobbish liberal elitist and conservatory trained opera singer, singing New Age-y rep like "Was it a morning like this?" and the over-the-top, constantly modulating and mawkish "They could not" set my teeth on edge. And "The Prayer" (sung by Josh Groban and Celine Dion) could not be cheesier and more "popera"-ish.

Two things happened to change my mind.

The first was that I had a rehearsal on Thursday with the keyboard player, bassist and the tenor soloist. The keyboard player was George Busateri, who has been a force in Milwaukee music for decades. The bass player was Duane Stuermer, who has played with Sweetbottom and other well-known bands in the area (and is Genesis guitarist Daryl Stuermer's brother). The tenor I knew - Stuart Mitchell, with whom I've sung several times and who got me the gig in the first place. He's a great singer and he knows the style so well, despite the fact that he is also an elitist opera singer. :)

They were fantastic. The rehearsal was a joy. I had a great time singing bad music. Who'da thunk it?

The second thing happened this morning, in the service itself. I saw how much this music meant to the congregation. It moved them, it touched them, it spoke to them. So I went with it. Even though it's not my preferred choice of worship expression, I decided to play the role of a contemporary Christian performer and give them what they needed. Their response was so positive that it made me give more. And it wasn't artificial or contrived. I was truly in the moment, expressing the meaning behind the text. It was a rush. I got a standing ovation after "They could not" (a song described by both Matt Bender and Kelsee York in their lessons as "the worst song I've ever heard"). People wept. I've never had the experience in a church setting before. At least not to that extent.

I don't tell this to say, "Look how great I am - I made people cry - I got a standing ovation!" I haven't changed my mind about contemporary Christian music. I'm not going to go join a praise band (shudder). But it was a huge discovery for me - and one that I think I can take to my future sacred and secular performances. 

When you give, you get. And then you give more. And then you get more. And it's a joy. And that's why we do what we do. And I hope I get to do more of it!

It's not all about the breath...

Breathing is important. There's no question about that.

But not every vocal issue is resolved by "getting the breath under it," "singing on the breath," or "just support more."

Some things are resonance based, registration based, a question of constriction. 

No, you can't be resonant if your breath support is inconsistent, whether you are breathy or pressed. 

And registration can depend on that also.

But maybe your breath support is just fine but your tongue is pulled back. Or you're nasal.  Or your articulation is not as efficient as it could be.  Or maybe you're carrying up too much weight and not allowing your voice to transition as needed. 

So it could be alignment. Or articulation. Or registration.

And you're trying so hard to "support support support" that all the other factors are going out the window. 

When I was a very young teacher, that's all I knew. "Support! That will fix everything."

Maybe it is support - but maybe you can't fix it until you fix your alignment, your articulation, your registration issues. Or maybe the key to fixing it is fixing one of those things. 

• You fix your physical alignment and your breath can flow more easily
• You fix your retracted tongue and your vocal folds can respond more effectively to your breath energy
• You find a lighter mechanism and your breath doesn't have to work as hard.

What I'm saying is that there are many roads to the same destination. The destination is efficient and functional singing. How do we get there? We can't all take the same road. Maybe you need to take the scenic route. Maybe the shortest path between two points, if that works for you. 

Jeanie LoVetri says sometimes we have to wait for the bus. Maybe it's a direct route, maybe non-stop. 

Jeff Costello's Blog: Concentration and Focus

Jeff Costello's Blog: Concentration and Focus: OK, would you like to really know what I teach? I teach concentration.  And, Focus. That's really about it.  It doesn't take a ton of Go...

It's a grand n̶i̶g̶h̶t̶ day for singing!!!

Tomorrow, February 17, will be my penultimate studio recital. It is the pre-WSMA recital, although in this case, we are also featuring performers preparing for musical auditions, the Auditions Plus/Classical Singer audition, and the Greendale Community Theatre production of Les Miserables.

There are 19 people performing tomorrow - we are opening with Rodgers' "It's a grand night for singing" (but it's only 2:30, hence the title) and closing with Gershwin's "My cousin in Milwaukee." Both will be sung by my two youngest students. In between, we will hear from five boys (the most I've had for a number of years, which is how I can tell the economy is getting better - boys are taking lessons again!) and 12 other girls. The repertoire will range from musical theater to operetta to opera, and we'll even do a little bit of ensemble work as a preview of the final recital, which will be held on May 12.

The recital will be held at 2:30pm at St. John's on the Lake. Admission is free.

Speaking of the final recital, I'll need to know by 2/28 who is participating. I plan to coordinate the program during my break (3/1-3/10) and distribute music the week of 3/11.

Toi toi toi everyone. (I never say "break a leg," especially this time of year - there's ice out there!)

My Lenten Resolution/Your Lenten Challenge

I grew up Catholic, but with a non-Catholic mother. And although she had to swear that she would raise her children Catholic when she married my very Catholic father, she found ways to get around that. The whole idea of Lenten sacrifice was something that she really couldn't wrap her head around. She never sacrificed anything if it didn't suit her or if she couldn't use it to make herself look good (I know that sounds harsh, but I'm being honest). No meat on Fridays? She didn't like fish and her attitude was, "God doesn't want us to go hungry." Same thing for fasting - perhaps it was having lived through depression and war, but the idea of going without food by choice was anathema to her. 

So giving up things was not something I was raised with. I don't recall my dad participating in that either (then again, Mom did all the cooking and dad didn't like fish or vegetables any more than she did, so if he didn't want to starve, he had to eat what she put in front of him).

In the years since my childhood, I've made a concerted effort to give things up. If not for religious reasons, at least to try to break habits for a limited time which would hopefully become long-term. Or to lose weight. Or to be more productive. I've given up french fries, I've given up Bejeweled, I've given up fast food - and it's always a short-term fix.

So this year, I'm going to try to establish some new habits instead.

1. I'm going to practice every day. Mindfully and with purpose. My plan is to put together my audition repertoire for my return to Baltimore - to include operetta, opera, oratorio, musical theater and cabaret. I've already started that. It's hard to practice when you have 40 students between two schools (home and Stritch), but I have to do it. Even if I don't have time to practice a bunch of songs at one sitting, at least I can vocalize and do something.
   
2. I'm going to write. This doesn't mean 40 days of blogs. I don't know what I'm going to write, but I'm going to write something. I have an article to write for the Journal of Singing on the process of leaving a successful voice studio behind and re-establishing my studio in a new city. (Actually, two articles - one in a year from now to document my progress.) I want to get into the practice of regular writing. Before I wanted to be a singer, I wanted to be a writer. 

What I'm not going to do is give up Bejeweled or french fries or fast food or vow to exercise every day. I'm going to keep up with my wheat elimination program, following the principles of the book Wheat Belly, because it seems to make me feel better. And I'm going to continue to try to eat at home and not spend money eating out - but I'm doing that anyway. I'll try to keep up those things because they're working for me. 

What singing goals can you set for yourself for the next 40 days? Here are some suggestions:

1. Practice mindfully. Every day. (You can have Sundays off.)
2. Learn the International Phonetic Alphabet to help you with your foreign language singing.
3. Look into a summer training program. First Stage? Some music camp?
4. Sing in a different language.
5. Improve your piano skills so you can learn music faster.
6. Listen to some singers in a different genre than you usually listen to.
7. Audition for a show!

Maybe God doesn't want me to starve, but He does want me to sing. Of that I'm sure.