Nasality: How to focus the sound without using nasal resonance

Before the FDA stamped expiration dates on food sources, we had to use our noses to discern whether or not food was safe for consumption. Epithelial olfactory cells send data directly from our nose and mouth to the olfactory bulb in the brain. Before we can consciously process the data, if the olfactory bulb detects danger, it will immediately close the vocal folds to prevent harmful molecules from entering the lungs. 

This is precisely why nasal sounds can happen in the larynx, yet be perceived as resonating in the nose. We need a certain amount of tension in the vocal folds to produce a focused, non-breathy tone. Too much tension leads to pressed phonation, but just the right amount of tension produces a focused fundamental frequency which can be filtered through the vocal tract to great artistic effect.

Try this! Place you hand on your Adam's apple. Say or sing a bright Aaaa sound, as in cat. It needn't be pretty. In fact, try to sound like a bagpipe reed. Now place your other hand on your nose. Notice how it is possible to create a "nasal" sound that resonates in the larynx, but not in the nose.

It is important to focus the sound, not just for artistic effect, but for vocal health. Too much air through the vocal folds can lead to vocal nodes. We need a healthy air flow that is consistent and sub glottal, which means that the vocal folds need to stay closed about 65-70% of the time they are in phonation phase.

The Courage to be Confident: Tools for dealing with stage-fright brain

Voice Lessons Seattle: In Boca Lupo!  Crepi il Lupo!

You've heard it all: Think about your audience more than yourself, imagine your audience loves you, imagine your audience in their under-roos, take a beta-blocker, over-prepare, meditate, levitate, just do it, and my favorite; all great performers have stage fright. But, come on. If you have real stage fright, none of this matters--not of this advice even comes close to helping.

I'm not talking about feeling jittery, or excited, I'm talking, excrement/vomit/horrible-headache, why-am-I-doing-this, kind of stage fright. That is a real monster, and here is the cure.

Stop performing.  That's right. Just end your career now. No one cares. The world doesn't need another version of whatever you're about to do. Do not quit your day job, and immediately stop practicing. Don't even think about singing in the shower, and definitely knock off that annoying habit of humming when your happy. In fact, make fun of anyone who even attempts to create some form of human whimsy.

Make sure you let everyone around you know about the horrible, current state of the arts.  Picture yourself in 10, 20, 30 years having absolutely no more to do with this performance nonesense. Instead, binge watch all the shows you fancy, and many that you don't.  Block yourself off from all human contact, except a couple of people who are equally bent on dissing the world. Drink yourself to sleep each night, cursing your very existence.

Imagine at the end of this worthless existence, you keel over from a heart attack, and just as your pathetic life is trickling out of you, you wish: I wish I would have kept singing. I had talent, and had something to say.

Roll back the tape to right now. You are still alive. You love, (okay, sometimes just like) to sing, and you have good days and bad days. Beverly Sills reportedly only felt that her voice was in full working order in only six of her thousands of performances.  Seriously, does it even matter?

Yes. It does matter. Someone in the audience needs to hear what you have to say, (even if that means making fun of your terrible performance to make themselves feel better.) 

Albert Ellis, the Grandfather of Cognitive Behavior Therapy, has a fabulous exercise. Imagine the absolute worst that could happen to you during your performance.  Let's say you forget the words and crack a bunch of notes. Now let's say that you soil your dress or pants and projectile vomit on your leading man.  Now let's say that you fall off stage and kill someone in the front row, and that sparks a chain of gun violence not seen since WWI. Sounds pretty bad, but it gets worse. The theater catches fire, and people run into the streets catching the entire city on fire. An underground arsenal of nukes explodes and the entire continent is wiped off the map. All of the fish in the seven seas die, and soon, every living thing on earth is dead.

The last living amoeba exclaims: I wish I had several hundreds of millions of years to develop, so I could share the miracle of the human voice with others on the planet.  You are a miracle, and so is your voice.  Do your best, and thank you for having the courage to try.  As an audience member, I need music, I need your singing, I need your message, I need your art, and so do 7.something billion other people. Boca Lupo! (By the way, that means Mouth of the Wolf. The audience is the wolf's mouth open to devour you. You, the performer say, to the wolf, "F-You, wolf, I'm a human miracle, and this is my song.")  P.S.  It also helps to practice in front of small loving audiences before you take serious risks.  P.S.S. Mindfulness Meditation helps to calm down your brain that's being flooded with cortisol, and adrenaline while your prefrontal cortices are shutting down.  Jump up and down until you're winded. Now sing your songs again.  Repeat, until you get used to singing through stress. If this doesn't help, go back to step one and just give up. 

Creating your sacred practice space

Nothing is as deflating as the dreaded knock-knock-knock on the wall, just as you are getting into your aria. You need to practice, but where?  Finding the right rehearsal space is a necessary part of taking your singing seriously.

But, you say, I live in a crowded apartment with roommates in a crowded building, and don't have the budget for a rented rehearsal room. No problem! 

Let me tell you a story.  Every time I practiced in my tiny Brooklyn apartment, I heard the crotchety old man next door scratch at the wall. He seemed to be either on the stoop of the building, harassing people, or scratching at the wall.  But, I knew that in order to be a world-class teacher, I needed to hone my technique on my own vocal challenges.  It was humiliating, knowing that my neighbors could hear my "voice-in-progress".  Yet, I kept at the scales, warm-ups and arias for hours every day, and tried to avoid the grumpy neighbor, who sneered, "oh, you're that singer, are ya...".  He seemed so very angry.

Then, one day, a woman came to the door. "My father passed last week", she said, "and he willed some of his furniture to you.  He loved listening to you sing, and would sit for hours with a glass against the wall to hear. The music helped him forget his pain." 

So many of my students over the years have shared similar stories. One singer, who was diligently preparing for the Met auditions, was so shy that it was affecting her practice. She lived in a densely populated condo building in a densely populated neighborhood. She put up signs anywhere within earshot that read: "Dear Neighbors, I am an aspiring opera singer preparing for an important competition.  If my singing bothers you, please let me know."  And guess what! Her neighbors started putting notes of encouragement and money on her door.

Should you encounter a complaint, here's what you do. Talk to the person directly. If the complaint comes through a third party, try to get as much information as you can, then send your scary cousin Vinnie to their door. Just kidding.  Let the complainer know when you plan to practice. People are sometimes afraid that it will never stop. If you let them know that your sacred rehearsal time is from 5:30 pm to 8pm, or 11am to 2pm, you give them some control over the situation.  Be courteous, respectful, and stick to your schedule.  Sometimes having limits to your rehearsal time makes you use the time more efficiently.

If you work a 9-5 corporate job, seek out churches, schools, libraries, rooftops, bridges and stairways that can become your lunchtime rehearsal spot.  Shoot for an hour or so, but even 15 minutes during the day can help you progress leaps and bounds. Think about your targeted challenges and plan what you are going to practice. Mindfulness makes for efficient practice. Do straw phonation on the walk to your rehearsal spot so that you are as warmed up as possible by upon arrival.

Avoid commuter traffic by getting up early to rehearse before or after work.  If you make a small donation to a church or school, often they will let you practice in a chapel or school room. The downtown Seattle library has free rehearsal rooms. A note about practicing in the car, or any other loud environment; make sure that you are not pushing your voice over the sound of the engine and traffic.  See Lombard effect.

Once you have a designated rehearsal space, make it your own. Keep a strand of Christmas lights in your bag to turn a dilapidated college rehearsal closet into a charming temple of musical wonder. Decorate your home rehearsal space with pictures of singers you admire, and things that make you feel comfortable, and inspired.

The most important thing is to get into a routine. Find a place, find a time and stick to it. Make practicing your Meditation, a vital part of your life. You never know, you may have a loyal fan on the other side of the wall.