Don't go off half-asked

TL; DR: Ask, so ye shall receive: Take this survey!

About a month ago my students released Holly Days, an album of original songs. It was the second studio album my private voice studio released in 2020 — here’s a link to the first one, “Six Feet From Stardom.” Heck yes I’ll take that victory lap! Most voice studios do recitals, not album releases. pats self on back

Each album was an intense three month project. It involved a thousand little decisions along the way, asking myself (and my students) questions like: This workshop presenter or that one? A chorus here, or a double chorus there? What kind of guitar to use in the demo track? Are these lyrics memorable? Are they singable? Record harmony for the ending or the beginning? Record safely at your house or mine? Release online or as a physical CD? Copyright or no? Charge per track or per album? Make a music video to go with it? Where to film that video? Who’s going to be in it? Premiere on Facebook or Insta?

Each question and answer got us a little closer to a satisfying finished product. The students had control over a lot of the project, even though I was the one doing the coaching, arranging, playing and producing. The questions and decisions kept us all in close communication.

Here’s a question for you: Did you know it takes at least seven “contact mentions” before most of us are cognizant of an event or product? You have to see the widget in an ad, hear your friend mention the widget, glance at the widget display in the store, watch the informercial about the widget at 2am, throw away the junk mail about the widget, and then see an influencer use the widget in her Instagram story. Suddenly you think, “Wow, new widget!” It may take several (hundred?) more contacts before you actually commit to a purchase.

Promotion is important, whether it’s a personal project or a huge public event, and it has its own decision process. My students promoted their songs on social media (I shared the “Seven” rule with them) and to their individual networks, and the results were satisfactory. I decided to send free copies of the album to several members of the press and in online groups. I was grateful that one of them bothered to follow up — this year especially, in a busy time of year. It’s a journalist whose work I admire.

Our phone interview was rushed, and the questions were more like monologues that barely gave me space to answer. It reminded me of the run-on non-questions that reporters ask presidential candidates in those interminable “town hall” meetings. “Candidate X, our nation’s financial health is a source of concern for many, as the Congressional Budget Office has indicated we will be running bazillion-dollar deficits for the next three generations, and Candidate Y thinks more or fewer windmills could be part of the solution or the problem if only the other political party would vote for and/or block them in a congressional bill that has yet to be written, as John F. Kennedy once said to Mahatma Ghandi . . .”

When reporters ask questions that way, I wanna go all Calvin Coolidge on them and just give one-word answers: Yes. No. Perhaps. But that doesn’t help me, the journalist, or the interview.

I did what I could to cram in some good quotes but felt lousy about it as soon as we hung up. The published article didn’t even include information on how to find the album (so what was the point?). There’s no bad press, but there’s forgettable press, which is why I’m not including a link here.

The moral of the story is: Don’t half-ass your asks.

It’s amazing what people tell you when you ask the right questions, and listen to the response. It’s frustrating to field questions that barely give you time to answer, and make you feel like you haven’t been heard (Although it can lead to some pretty great songs).

I work very hard to ask each client (and prospective client) the right questions when we meet, and to listen carefully to the answers. Asking “What do you want to learn in voice lessons?” is important, but I get more revealing answers when I ask, “What is your least favorite memory of your singing and why?” Careful questions and detailed answers help me help you.

So I have some questions to ask you, right now. Tell me the best and worst things about your musical 2020. And tell me the one thing that you think will keep you from having a satisfying, musical 2021. Take the musical survey here. They’re good questions and I know you’re going to give great answers. You can complete it for yourself, or share it with others — no strings. Finished surveys get you a free online music planning session with me this month!

What's my job? What's YOUR job?

I still don’t know how to answer when someone asks me ,“So, Eden, what do you do?”

I teach voice lessons. I also coach singers in performing. I write songs with them. I create melodies and tunes. I arrange music into performable tracks using Logic Pro. I record singers in my studios and theirs. I teach other voice teachers how to use online music tech. I advise them how to share their music publicly. I create and direct music videos with my singers. I create entire albums with my singers.

But wait, there’s more! I help them write one-person shows. I connect them with theaters and music venues. I create lists of songs they should try. I accompany them in performance. I listen to their original songs and offer guidance and advice. I play for their parties. I tell them how, what and where they should perform next, and oftentimes that next performance is an event I’ve created, booked, and promoted just for them.

I am a hyphenate teacher-creator-producer. A musical maitre’d. Tough to put on a business card!

That’s what I do. What do you do, if you’re in my studio?

Your job is to sing, create, and perform and to have a great time doing it. My job is to handle the rest (but I’ll teach you how to do those extra skills, if you want).

Do it for the joy of it. Not for approval, not as a substitute for therapy, not for a grade, not to be accepted and not for likes on Instagram. We can all tell if you’re faking.

I sing to make sound come out of my throat in a way that feels good and makes my whole day better. I perform because it makes me really, really happy. If I couldn’t sing, I would still perform. I’m thrilled that I can do both.

I teach and coach singing because I want you to enjoy the sounds that come out of your throat. I do all the rest of my “hyphen” jobs to increase everyone’s enjoyment of your singing, creating and performing.

This is why I provide so many studio-created options to my students (from social media shares to living room gigs to online collaborating to full recorded albums to showcases to one-person cabarets!). While you’re in this studio I want you to take advantage of all the options you can. (Does it scare you to think about doing any of these? Why?)

Shameless plug: Buy a Hello Session as a gift for your favorite musician (even if that’s you)! Talk to me if you’d like to create a package of lessons as a gift, any time of the year. Warning: I don’t create packages for everyone who asks. Please don’t give me as a gift to someone who’s hard to buy for. ;)

Some singers come to the Hello Session wanting to master specific songs for a specific goal (I love goals!) like acing an audition, getting into college, surviving an open mic. That’s fine! I’ll make sure you’re prepared. What’s next?

Or maybe you just want to know that you’re singing “all right.” I will tell you if you are or aren’t, and help restore you to vocal health if it’s the latter. After we determine that you’re singing all right, what are you going to do with your “all-right” voice and talents? That’s where most voice lessons stop and it’s where my “hyphenate” skills come in handy.

When you come for your “Hello Session” I see a unique individual who wants to feel good about the sounds they’re making, the performing they’re doing, and the creations they’re putting out into the world. Your job is to enjoy your singing, creating, and performing. My job is to help everyone else enjoy it right along with you.

You inspire me, and I will move the Earth for you.

Kind of a Big Deal

LIVE from Wakefield RI and Hendersonville NC. Rehearsing LIVE, broadcasting LIVE. We did not rehearse this rehearsal! We just figured out the tech, threw on ...

I was this many years old when I figured out how to livestream with a jazz singer who lives about 900 miles away from me.

Why is this a Big F_____ Deal?

To the best of our knowledge Wendy Jones and I are the first who’ve successfully played live and shared live, from such a distance. So, we think it probably IS a B.F.D!

We know of no other pair of musicians who’ve done what Wendy and I did on Saturday night. Lots of players livestream by themselves or with their COVID-free bandmates from a single location (Billie Eilish!), and lots of distanced players pre-record their playing (virtual choirs!), edit the audio and video, and upload it to socials. We’ve done plenty of both. (Shameless plug for this playlist.)

It means (at least!) two musicians can play together, in real time, and can also send their music out to viewers on YouTube, Twitch, Facebook Live and other channels. It means that even in the darkest days of a pandemic, distance is no obstacle to playing live with your friends and sharing it with the world. Concertizing is available right now. This makes us feel great now, but we predict it’s gonna be reaaaaalll useful for the rest of our careers.

Musicmakers everywhere: Let’s play NOW!

Jazz singer and teacher Wendy Jones has been my tech partner-in-crime since summer. She’s a fantastic singer! She’s based in Hendersonville, North Carolina, 889 miles away from me in Wakefield, Rhode Island. Sitting at home during the pandemic, we started reading about SoundJack and other low-latency music options. We talked to each other in a teacher group called The SpeakEasy Cooperative, and we decided to see if we could connect to each other, even from such a long distance. TL; DR: It worked!

Check out our SoundJack low-latency experiments too! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2zzKhvmYmk8&feature=youtu.be Wendy Jones, North Carolina based jazz sing...

1. This was our first experiment, using Cleanfeed to see if we could collaborate with each other in real time. (Thousands of miles apart? Uh, no. Math is hard). I recorded our session, threw it into Final Cut Pro with some still photos, and released our results.

UPDATE: Check out newest SoundJack Experiment here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FJZISN5AUnY&t=3s Jazz singer/educator Wendy Jones singing a portion of "M...

2. This was our second experiment, using SoundJack to speed up our connection. This time we each recorded video in our own studios, and I recorded the audio to my computer’s hard drive. And I put it all together in Final Cut Pro. It worked . . again!

3. Emboldened by our success, we added a third singer to our SoundJack experiments — Dr. Amy Stewart in Fort Worth, TX. And It worked again. This time, I recorded my screen video using QuickTime and threw that into Final Cut Pro.

Wendy and I then began to test our tech with other people, constantly sharing our results with each other (and on my YouTube channel! Go subscribe!) We wondered if it would be possible to livestream our low-latency music sessions, rather than record, edit and upload them. Could our tech handle it? Yes, yes it could!

Was Saturday night’s “live rehearsal” perfect? No. I had to ask my desktop Mac to give me quality video, excellent audio, and then bounce it all live into a different platform. We had some difficulty hearing each other at times, and viewers told us that sometimes there was a faint echo, or it was difficult to hear my piano (which sounded really loud to me, live!). This is a lot to ask of any consumer-level tech.

But you bet your bippy I’m going to keep asking my tech to make the impossible possible. Wendy and I have music to make! Subscribe to get notified when Wendy and I do our next Long-Distance Livestream!

Pandemic-Proof Singing: Yes, Really

TL;DR: See you next week, musical optimists.

Theaters are shut. Broadway is in mothballs. Music venues are closing left and right. Singers and voice teachers connect online for safety. Musicians are out of work and draining their bank accounts dry.

What a great time to look ahead!

I’m not crazy, I’m an optimist! As awful as this time has been (and yes, it’s awful and it’s especially awful for those who have lost someone), I’m excited to see incredible innovation in the music world.

Teaching online, we’ve discovered that it’s easier to hear our singers when their sound is coming into our headphones. Playing online, we can make music in real time with programs like SoundJack and JamKazam and collaborate with players thousands of miles away, even total strangers! Forced inside, almost everyone’s writing new songs, creating new works, and connecting to old fans and new audiences online.

It’s not the same as what we had before, but it sure is interesting. And, these innovations are open and usable by everyone! I believe the musical landscape has been permanently changed by what we’ve learned and created in the past year. So to me, the musical future looks bright. We just need that danged vaccine.

Here, have a swig of my optimism. I’ll see you at The Pandemic-Proof Singer Summit, a really cool online event, Nov. 16-18. My friend and colleague, performer Danielle Tucker of The Mighty Untouchables, is sharing survival skills for the pandemic and beyond. She’s gathered together an amazing group of presenters to share their wisdom and knowledge about the music biz before, during, and after pandemic.

Learn more about monetizing live online concerts, managing a website, managing your Spotify tunes, keeping your body and voice in shape, how to use your music gear, attracting fans online, and so much more. The videos, workbooks and freebies contain valuable information and skills you needed before the pandemic, but were too busy to learn. But if you master them now, you’ll truly be pandemic-proof.

And, I’ll be there too, giving a workshop called “Online Performing: What The Tech?” to help you improve your online music gigging.

Guess what? It’s all FREE! Click here to sign up now.

Can’t make it Nov. 16-18? You can get ALL the videos in your inbox, permanently, for less than $200! Use my code to get the lowest price!

Do you really need a voice teacher?

TL; DR: Maybe, maybe not.

After a promising start in middle school, my performing career was going nowhere. My confidence had been shaken when I, the upstart who stole the show in “Coming Of Age” in Seventh Grade, was totally shut out of “You’re A Good Man, Charlie Brown” in Eighth Grade. I didn’t look or sound like a Lucy or a Sally and that’s all that was available. I was crestfallen. My mom thought, “Let’s get her some voice lessons and see if that helps.” And sure enough, two months after I started studying with Prof. Paul Hickfang of Ohio State University, I was singing “As Long As He Needs Me” in a transposed key at the spring choir concert. Voice lessons work!, I thought. I kept taking them.

Most of the singers who come for a Hello Session with me are frustrated a little bit vocally, and a whole lot professionally. They audition for the same few shows in the same few theaters. They get feedback like “sorry, there were just so many good people for only a few parts.” They love singing with their choir friends but they’re bored to death with the material, and the soloists always get hired from outside, anyway. Their audition experiences are tedious or terrifying and they rarely have the right songs in their audition books. They aren’t sure open mics are for them, either. They don’t look like Jasmin in “Aladdin Jr.” so they get cast as a townsperson, again. They’re singing the wrong music, at the wrong venue, for the wrong reasons, in the wrong key, at the wrong time.

Can a voice teacher solve all of these problems? No. You need a voice teacher AND a vocal coach, career counselor, repertoire specialist, talented pianist, talent agent, director, public relations person. And a drill sergeant. Voice lessons will build your voice, but what you really need is to expand your options. That takes a lot of additional skills and support. I didn’t get that help when I was thirteen and struggling to find my way to the mic, and it’s still a challenge to find it now.

You don’t need a voice teacher. You need an “All-Of-The-Above” teacher who can not only tell you to stop using “Hallelujah” to audition for The Music Man (please stop using “Hallelujah” altogether, okay?) but can also tell you to abstain from local theater auditions altogether, pull out the ukulele, and get working on the EP that’s been swimming around in your brain for a few years. And can then spend the second half of your lesson helping you write a song.

You need a voice teacher who can help you arrange your cover song setlist so you don’t get vocally tired in the middle, and help you find open mic venues that don’t have a six-hour waiting list. Or teach you how to livestream and avoid the lines altogether.

You need a voice teacher who can help you write, arrange, and record your songs in keys and styles that work for your voice, help you release them, and coach you as you take them on the road. Who can help you organize your vocal interests so you really can do it all.

You need a voice teacher who tells you it’s okay to quit choir, and then gives you a chance to sing rock and roll with her studio band. Someone who can also say, “check out this Italian aria from the 18th century, I think it would be a great way for you to work on your falsetto for that Prince song.”

You need a voice teacher who understands not only your voice but YOU. Someone who sees options and possibilities that you can’t see for yourself. Someone who helps you create a musical life that celebrates who you are and points you where you’re heading.

If you can find all of this in a voice teacher . . . .well, it’s nice to meet you! ;) Let’s get going. Book an online Hello Session with me here.

O Mio Casteel Caro

About once a month I hold a Studio Class for my student singers. Some are preparing songs for auditions and performance. Some are working to get over stage fright in front of a small, supportive audience. Some just come to enjoy a casual, informal afternoon of music. We sing for an hour and everyone offers comments and suggestions on how to improve. We have a break for tea and cookies (and delicious desserts by moms), and then we sing some more. It's fun and lighthearted, but also productive. We make a lot of music and everyone leaves happy. My parents visited last weekend to cheer on my son in his high school play, so I scheduled a Studio Class just for their visit.

I was thrilled to show off several of my talented students. My parents were delighted to see and hear them and, just like they did for me as a young singer, they made constructive comments and did a lot of cheerleading. At the end of the class, my dad (always my favorite accompanist) and I decided to join in the fun.  This aria is about a dad and a daughter, so it's a natural for us, and we've performed it countless times. Click here, or on the photo if you'd like to watch us perform! The video cuts off right after the end of the song, so you can't see the wonderful long hug my dad gave me right after . . just like always. I'm so glad my students got to see that too. We made a lot of music and everyone left happy. Want to come to a Studio Class? 

Unaccompanied Minors

"They want me to sing sixteen bars a cappella," the student says as we start to prepare her for the audition. "What?" I ask. "No pianist?"

"No music at all, just me singing," she says.

What I'm thinking: "But you're auditioning for Fiona from Shrek! In the show you will have to belt high D-flats. How will they know you can do it? As your voice teacher, I know that having the musical score underneath helps you nail those notes. Unless the music director has perfect pitch or has a tuner handy, they won't know if you (or any other singer) can sing the notes the score requires you to sing. This is stupid. I can't believe you're expected to audition a cappella for a show that will have a full orchestra in the pit. That's like signing a baseball player to the team after he walks the bases, or telling McDonald's to cook your Quarter Pounder medium rare.

“So they don't want to pay a pianist for auditions, or they don't have access to a piano in the audition room? Okay. You mean to tell me that no one in your drama organization can figure out how to provide you with a karaoke track to give you at least a little support? Well here, I took 25 seconds and found it on YouTube, and now I'm playing it on my phone at high volume. You can do this at the audition, if they'll let you. Or at least listen to it right before you go in. Definitely buy a chromatic tuner app, which can give you a secure starting pitch.

“I don't blame you, student. I blame American Idol and Pitch Perfect, which have made a cappella auditions seem cool. In fact, a cappella auditions are often terrible and they make iffy and nervous singers sound horrid. Even professional singers can sound slightly unsupported and shaky in an a cappella format, without the bass line and melody of the score to balance out the voice. Most amateur singers don't know how to edit a song for a cappella performance. The singer continues to "hear" the melody of the accompaniment in their heads and they unwittingly include it, but the auditioners only hear awkward silence, and that ruins the energy of an otherwise good audition. Who thought this was a great idea for less experienced kids and teen singers?

I can't believe that in addition to teaching notes and rhythms and performance skills, I now have to teach you how to sing an accompanied song unaccompanied, just because someone thought it would be "easier." I just have to cross my fingers and hope that you sing the correct pitches in your audition. It stinks because I know that pitch accuracy matters, every time you open your mouth. Ultimately you will be singing with accompaniment, so you have to sing what's written. But your auditioners won't know if you're accurate or not (or if anyone else is, either). You could be vocally perfect for this part and sing a flawless audition, but you could easily lose out to someone who actually can't sing the role at performance time. GREAT IDEA, A CAPPELLA."

What I say: "Okay, here's your starting note. Go."

My video on how to nail an a cappella audition.

Eden's Ins and Outs for 2015

Eden's INs and OUTs for 2015 IN: Reading books OUT: Reading minds

High quality audio and video recordings of music lessons for my students Relying on hazy memory

Diaries Facebook statuses

Running the 2015 NYC Marathon with my husband (yes, I am) Sleeping in

Charcoal gray as a neutral Brown anything (I only like brown as mulch)

Regular online voice lessons Irregular in-person lessons

Improv classes Half-assing

Confidence Guilt

Helping my students learn more music theory and history Assuming they're learning it elsewhere

Fearless graying Real Housewives Hair

Trackr Bravo Missing cats

Low sugar cuisine New pants

Guest organ stints Cantoring

Small ensemble choral singing Cyber choirs

Dave Ramsey Debt

Making my home studio beautiful and welcoming Schlepping all over the Ocean State

Driver's Ed Texting

Daily prayer Worrying

RINATS No NATS

Kvetching Gratitude

Samaritan's Purse Kate Spade

Age appropriate performances Musical Jail Bait 

Massages for health Toughing it out

Learning how to audition in a challenging environment Giving up

Traveling Netflix

Deadlines To-do lists

Blogging more Blogging less

HAPPY NEW YEAR, my Eight Blog Readers! XO EC

How To Carry A Tune In A Bucket

More "Terrible Singers" lists later, but first . . . .

Q: Is It true that some people can't carry a tune in a bucket? Are some people born not to sing?

A: NO. Some people are born with a natural ability to sing, and some aren't. But everyone can learn, everyone can improve. Everyone can sing. 

I'll add to that: I think everyone WANTS to sing.

I recently worked with a gentleman who was finally taking voice lessons for the first time ever. He loved music but had no idea how to make his voice work. "Mom said I sounded best when I kept my mouth shut!" he said with a steely laugh. The joking masked real frustration and pain at not being able to sing like he wanted. He couldn't reach high notes, and couldn't find the low notes. He could hear and recognize a melody, but he couldn't get his voice to follow it. So he made sound wherever sound could be made, even if that meant singing the same same couple of notes over and over again, like a drone.

In childhood, he was not an accurate singer, but he was loud -- until he was told to shut up. He was made to stand in the back of the group, to step away from the microphone. He mouthed the words of the carol, while everyone else actually sang. In adulthood, he sang with bar bands and in ad-hoc groups, and tolerated the jokes and razzing when his bad singing was noticed. No one cared how he sang "Sweet Caroline."But then came something awful and wonderful: His child sang with freedom and accuracy and happiness, and he longed to have that same joy. Finally, the pain of singing poorly was greater than the pain of judgment.

For the technically challenged singer, just taking a voice lesson is an incredible leap of faith. My job is to reward that trust with gentle, supportive coaching on breathing, pitch matching, and listening. We focus on making accurate sounds, strengthening the connections between brain and ears, throat and lungs. I make sure the abdominal muscles aren't too tight or too loose to support a tone. I use a tuner to help pitch-challenged ears locate and match the sounds I play on the piano, or the tones I sing (some singers can hear voices better than they hear pianos). Progress can be quick, but usually it's a few extra notes here, a little more freedom there, adding up over time. I record the lessons so the singers realize they are, in fact, progressing. They are always amazed at the new sounds they can make. (It makes me happy too!)

A newly strengthened voice can explore very easy songs, or short sections of beloved songs that have formerly been out of reach and out of range. We talk honestly about what's technically possible now and what might happen later on with improving skills. The best part is, we start to think about singing in a whole new way. No more dismissal, no more embarrassment, no more despair. Like every other person on the planet, this person is a singer. This person can sing.

I Knew They Were Terrible Singers! Part 3

And so we continue with I Knew They Were Terrible Singers!, where I explain the vocal sins committed by the singers you can't stand to hear. (Part One) (Part Two)

One of my eight blog readers begged, "Do Lana Del Rey. Please." Okay. All I knew of Del Rey was the media coverage of her lackluster appearance on Saturday Night Live several years ago. So I watched a bunch of her videos on YouTube. Her videos are mini-epics that are superior to her pedestrian voice, which reminds me of Mama Cass in range but not in musicality. I wonder if Del Rey is popular because she is one of the few girl singers who's not belting and autotuning to the high heavens. In that way, she is a welcome relief. Every morose maiden can sing Del Rey with little to no effort, for that's how she sings too -- undersupported and under energized. I'd bet money that she told her first voice teacher she was "really more of an alto." Her range is low, small, and finite, which means every song sounds the same. While her tone is clear, her lack of vocal hustle results in some chronic nasality. Lana Del Rey sounds like she needs cheering up.

Kim Carnes: A voice as pure as New York snow.

"Bette Davis Eyes"isunsingable unless you are recovering from laryngitis, which is what Kim Carnes sounded like on her best day (But oh, she could whip that hair!). That gravely, wooly sound is her vocal folds coming together unevenly. It must be an injury from a long time ago. It seems to be happening throughout her range -- I don't hear a clear sound anywhere, except in a few brief head voice moments. She struggles to sing many interval leaps -- but in this song, I think it's less of a vocal problem than a conscious choice. Carnes' disabled voice got her a Grammy for Record of the Year in 1981. Call me contrary, but Carnes' quirky, weathered voice suited lyrics that celebrated a one-of-a-kind actress. Gwyneth Paltrow sang the song in a movie once -- her rendition is clear and controlled, her pitch is accurate . .. and it's totally unmemorable. Carnes has been married to the same guy since 1967 and she's still writing songs in Nashville, isn't that great? Terrible singer, but hopefully a happy songwriter.

Rod Stewart: Do Ya Think I'm Scratchy?

Carnes is often compared to Rod Stewart, the uncrowned King Of Raspy Singers. To me, Joe Cocker sounds like a hot mess, but Rod Stewart sounds far hotter. It's his material, of course -- the vocal range of his songs is higher, the tempo of many songs is faster. Stewart readily admits his voice is fragile, and when I listen to him I mostly hear the damage. I can listen to his early stuff but not his newer recordings. I like reading about Stewart, far more than listening to him. Stewart is a thyroid cancer survivor, which is of course wonderful -- but he has also admitted to taking loads of manhood-shrinking steroids to soothe his swollen throat after abusing it in performance. Don't let it happen to you, kids! Cher really is more of an alto. That's fine, but she also drawls her vowels, which leads her to sing with a very swallowed sound. You either love her or . . .you don't. Compare Cher to Tina Turner in this clip from Cher's solo variety show (after she divorced Sonny). They sing the same notes, but the sound is totally different. That's not just because they're two different singers, it's also because there are two different approaches to singing a particular phrase. Tina keeps her voice in a more "forward" sounding position and nasalizes words, while Cher goes straight back.If I could turn back time, I'd never hear her version if "It's In His Kiss." Ever.

Proud Mary with Half Breed

Who should we talk about next? Jewel? Stevie Nicks? Shakira? Cat Stevens? Contact me with your nominations and I'll commence this Very Important Research.

UPDATE in APRIL 2020: I’ve gotten some impassioned email from all over the world thanks to these blog posts. Stalwart lovers of Cher and Benny Mardones, THANK YOU for helping me improve my SEO, haters! Have I offended your favorite singer? Go ahead, share these posts and tell everyone you know how wrong I am! ;)

I Knew They Were Terrible Singers! (Part Deux)

It's time for another round of "I Knew They Were Terrible Singers!", where I explain the bad vocal technique behind the songs I've never liked -- and even some songs I do like. This week, I'm including some nominations from you, my Eight Blog Readers! (Read Part One of the series here.)

1. Benny Mardones, Into The Night: It was one of the few songs to hit the Top 20 twice in the same decade -- 1980 and 1989. I liked the beginning of the song, but Mardones' highest pitches were produced with scratchy strained vocal folds, and that really turned me off. It sounded like screaming then, and it still does today. It's unfortunate, because when he sings "If I could fly, I'd pick you up," he has a lovely head voice "oo" sound on the word you. Only a few notes later, he sings "and you a love" on the same pitch (B flat), and the vowel is gravelly and the throat is tight. Head voice would have sounded better. I couldn't imagine any girl accepting an "Into The Night" serenade; maybe that's why I didn't date much in high school. (Watch the video, made a year before MTV started! It has an Aladdin concept and everything!)

Stay on pitch, Natalie!

2. When she was with 10,000 Maniacs, Natalie Merchant's voice moved unevenly between her chest register and mixed chest and head register. In "Like The Weather" you can hear how some notes sound very swallowed and dark while slightly higher pitches are bright and pinched. But it was her pitchiness that drove me nuts. Merchant always allowed a pitch drop-off at the ends of phrases, partly for effect and partly because she ran out of breath. Also, what are the words in "Like The Weather?" I still have no idea. This kind of lazy, louche singing happened a lot in the grungy '90s. (I like Wonder. I can understand the words and she commits far fewer vocal sins.) (And I love her gray hair now.)

3. Aaron Neville was nominated by one of my readers. Good call! In order to extract a tenor range Neville has to engage in some vocal fracking, extracting a sound through a tense chest, neck and jaw. The tension is so great, his head and chin jerk with the effort of moving from note to note. Watch the clip with the sound turned off to see for yourself. Neville might not have enough air in his lungs to sing more than a few notes comfortably, so he sings lots of teeny tiny melodic lines instead and grabs a shallow breath between them. When you don't have enough air in your lungs, your throat will squeeze to try to help you finish the phrase your brain started. (Oh, whatever. I still love this song and remember it from the movie The Big Easy! I just can't watch Neville when he sings it!)

You don't need extraneous movements, Joe!

4. Vocally, Joe Cocker was Aaron Neville to the infinite power, with some laryngitis thrown in. Joe Cocker's voice proves again that a ruin can be charming. His raspy, breathy, gravelly voice was the result of damaged vocal folds not closing together completely and properly. Might be drugs, might be cigarettes, might be illness, might be all of the above. He swore the jerky body swings are not related to his singing or breathing, but how could they not be? Stiffness and rigidity in the limbs and shoulders is going to affect the voice. As with Neville, I think it's a way of trying to force sound out through a very tight throat and damaged folds. Watch what John Belushi had to do to imitate him, back when Saturday Night Live was funny. Have you ever tried to imitate Joe Cocker? It's exhausting. But millions of people are still happy to watch Joe Cocker be Joe Cocker. 

Each of these singers has had a great career while committing mortal vocal sins that I would try to remove or ameliorate in a voice lesson -- shows how much I know, right? But young singers routinely come into my studio and imitate singers by imitating their vocal problems  . . and I have to tell them all the reasons why it's not wise to do that. 

If you've ever wondered why a certain singer's voice makes you want to plug your ears, you just might have an appreciation for good vocal technique, and a normal sense of outrage when standards are violated. Yay you!

The ballot box is still open . . nominate your least favorite singers or songs and I'll tell you why your ears are crying.

Ready for more? Read Part Three of this series!

Eden's On The Air: "Conducting Conversations" With Mike Maino of WCRI

Don't touch that dial!

Conducting Conversations has been a beloved radio show for years. Host Mike Maino has talked to Broadway stars, genius conductors, world-class instrumentalists and  . . . me. I'm the first voice teacher to be on Conducting Conversations! The program airs on WCRI 95.9 FM in the Rhode Island area on Sunday, October 12 from 7 to 8pm. It's available on podcast afterwards at www.classical959.com.

UPDATE: CLICK TO LISTEN!

Mike was a genial, generous host. I brought a mixed bag of music to share and he enjoyed the variety -- he asked if he could keep the CD I burned for the show, so he could listen to all the tracks again! I started with my own performance from last April, to prove my bona fides. We talked about how I accidentally discovered that I was a coloratura, and then we played some Beverly Sills and Natalie Dessay, who are far more bona fide than I.

When Mike and I talked about teaching voice lessons to children, I presented two contrasting versions of O Mio Babbino Caro, one by Maria Callas and one by Jackie Evancho. Many of my younger students imitate Jackie, who is imitating Charlotte Church, who was imitating Kiri Te Kanawa. No one imitates Callas. (Is such a thing possible?)

Mike and I talked about opera stars singing pop, and pop style in opera. As a voice teacher, I have to help singers figure out what is appropriate and healthy for them vocally and stylistically, and what's better left unsung. I brought two examples for fun: Placido Domingo singing the Beatles and "Catch Our Act At The Met," a great show tune by Comden and Green. Note that Comden and Green do not actually try to sing opera, and that's why the song works. I almost brought Freddie Mercury and Montserrat Caballe . . .oh well, next time!

Thanks Mike, for a great hour of conversation and shop talk! I love helping singers find their real voices. Singers can stretch themselves to stylistic limits and imitate other singers as they try to find their own sound, but every singer sounds wonderful when they are true to themselves.

(Sign up for all my emails, over there on the right hand side of this blog. Want a voice lesson? Click on the "Book Now" button at the top of the blog and choose a time!)

I Knew They Were Terrible Singers!

A Three Part Series! Part Two Part Three Back in the 1980s I listened to pop music just as much as any other teen. My favorite singers included Olivia Newton-John, Linda Ronstadt, Al Jarreau and the Manhattan Transfer. I also developed a blacklist of songs and singers that just sounded wrong to me. Back then, I probably dismissed the offender with a casual, "Eew! I just hate that song!" and turned the dial. Now I can see that my teen ears were often just reacting to some very bad vocal technique. Here, a few of the few songs I couldn't stand when they first came out, and the vocal reasons why. The awful videos are just a bonus!

Place In This World: Michael W. Smith was a very popular Christian artist in the 1980s and 1990s and this was a crossover hit for him. Listen to that raspiness, especially on the choruses. This sound is the vocal equivalent of a three-day beard -- it could be totally on purpose, or just a lack of (vocal) hygiene. He pronounces place as "pleece" because if he sang "place" he'd never hit the pitch. Try and do it yourself. Once.

Madonna has Lived To Tell

Live To Tell, Madonna: Her first hit, "Borderline," featured a very bright, nasal voice and a light timbre -- so light, I could sing it easily and often did, and I really liked her for that reason. That, and the neon heels with socks. In this song, the melody is about an octave lower and Madonna is singing with a very dark, covered, almost swallowed sound. She's also trying to carry her chest voice higher and is straining to do so. At the slumber party we could all sing "Borderline" with a brush for a microphone, but no one wanted to sing "Live To Tell." I heard her sing it live on a concert video few years back, and she has improved. Keep up the lessons, Madonna, you may get somewhere!

Keep On Loving You, REO Speedwagon: I've hated this song "fereverrr." Every choir teacher on earth begs their singers to drop the final 'r's in words, because if you sing an 'r,' it sounds like nerdy and immature and sort of like .  . . . Kevin Cronin of REO Speedwagon.

Heaven Is A Place On Earth, Belinda Carlisle: Vibrato tighter than her jeans. (But very cool eyeliner.) A too-fast vibrato can be an indication of vocal tension, or inadequate breath support. Carlisle's veers very close to tremolo, which sounds almost like a vocal tremble. At least it does to my ears. She sang that way when she fronted the Go-Gos too, but she sang in a higher range then. As a solo artist, she sang in lower keys and the fast vibrato was more noticeable to me.

Oh, there are more. And you have your own vocal transgressors to accuse. Tell me what you hate, and I'll tell you . . why.

Read Part Two of the series here. Read Part Three of the series here.

Warmups for Choirs

My latest contribution to cyberspace: A video of warmups for the singers of The Chorus Of Westerly. Director Andrew Howell asked me to record some warmups that singers could do every day at home (I'm the vocal coach for the Chorus). I suggested that a picture is worth a thousand arpeggios.

We tried to include a cross-section of exercises to suit the needs of the majority of our singers, who range in age from 8 to 80. So we stretched, we yawned, we made whale sounds, we wailed sirens, and we did some breathing exercises. You can do 'em too! Go ahead! 

At the Chorus, I've been able to hear about 20 or 30 of the individual singers over the past couple of years. Some have come for voice lessons or for voice class, or I've just been sitting near them in rehearsal. But most of the voices are known to me only as part of a group. I still have to figure out how to help them sing better. One-on-one vocal instruction can lead to rapid results because you can zone in on individual quirks and abilities. How do you improve the vocal technique of multiple singers at the same time? A choir director can demonstrate and then ask for an "oo" vowel, but every singer will take that direction a little differently. One chorister will sing "oo" with little change in the vocal tract, while the one right next door might sing an "oo" that sounds like an "oh," with some  "uh," and "eeew" in there too. Each "oo" will be different because the person, like the voice, is unique, and the producer is too close to the sound to really hear what it sounds like. Each voice carries a lifetime of singing shoulds and shouldn'ts, unbroken bad habits, and (often) some overdone good habits. How do you get one person to brighten their "uh" to an "eeh" to wind up on "ooh" while the person right next to them needs to darken their nasal "eeew" with more "uh"? And then do that with, say, an additional 138 singers?

One of my solutions is asking everyone to make some extreme sounds, to increase flexibility and show a singer what's vocally possible in their own throat. Everyone, make "ee" so bright it needs sunglasses. Spread your lips, grin like a Cheshire Cat, and say "ee." Okay, that's bright! Feel the position of your tongue when you make that "ee." Now, make a dark, woofy "ugh" in the very back of the throat, like a monster on Halloween. Notice the difference. I mug, I grimace, I make very weird sounds and cheer every singer who's brave enough to do it with me. Most find it very freeing and fun. You're watching this on your computer? TRY IT! 

Every singer should safely explore the limits of their instrument, individually or in a group. We get used to singing vowels in certain ways, we get used to hearing ourselves sing the same way, and we begin to lose flexibility. Sirens and wails and extreme sounds can help any singer find new colors and new vocal possibilities. Singers might also rethink where their voice is, in relation to those extremes. And they might be a little more willing to make small changes or adjustments. 

Want me to come do whale sounds with your choir? Just ask! 

My Sunken Chest (Register)

 I took traditional classical voice lessons from the age of 13, and I developed a great stratospheric head voice -- my natural range and easy for me to use. But, whenever the melody descended towards middle C, it got difficult for me. I noticed it when I sang solos and when I sang in my school choir. I just couldn’t figure out how to move from head voice to chest, let alone how to get back up. I carried my head voice down too far, and ended up with a tiny breathy low sound at the bottom of the staff. No one talked about it with me when they heard it, and I didn't know enough to ask.

When it was a matter of musical life or death and I had to be heard, I would shout and squeeze out the lowest notes in my chest voice. It didn't feel good, and it was more difficult for me to reclaim my head voice afterwards. Like anyone else with one overdeveloped range and one underdeveloped range, I had a noticeable break. I knew my chest voice and head voice were as different as Jekyll and Hyde, and it embarrassed me. So, I gravitated to songs that showcased my high range. I embraced opera and 1940s and 1950s girl singer repertoire. George Gershwin's "Summertime" -- in the original key -- was my jam! I loved Eydie Gorme and Peggy Lee, crooners who exhaled into the microphone, did not push or strain in chest register, and rarely ascended to head voice. The chanteuse Sade had a breathy dominant chest register, a big break, and an even weaker head voice. Ironically, that made it easier for me to imitate her so I became a big Sade fan.

Couldn’t turn left but could probably sing lower than me.

In the absence of any instruction to the contrary, I convinced myself that I couldn't sing notes below a certain pitch. I might as well have admitted that I couldn’t turn left. 

I spent a frustrating year in Shillelagh, my high school's show choir. I had auditioned as a singer, but my break and breathy low range was obvious. Then I made the mistake of showing our teacher Mr. Reardon that I could play keyboards, so naturally I became the keyboard player. I watched the backs of all the beautiful girls as they sashayed through each show, doing jazz squares in sparkly red leotards and black wrap skirts. Meanwhile, I was hidden behind the Yamaha DX-7, playing the accompaniment to “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” and "We Got The Power," keeping my mouth shut. I loved trying out new sounds on the keyboard and jamming with the rest of my bandmates, and I loved getting out of class to play for the Christmas parties of local businesses. But I wished I could sing with them, and sing like them.

I’m the one in red stirrup pants and black satin shirt, disappointed because I have no chest register and therefore have to play piano and can’t sing with the rest of the girls in Shillelagh.

Mr. Reardon was a fan of vocal jazz, so Shillelagh performed a lot of songs originally recorded by The Manhattan Transfer. All the performing girls were invited to audition for a short alto solo in "Birdland". I begged to be allowed to try out, too, and after a lot of pleading, Mr. Reardon relented. I memorized Janis Siegel’s rendition, all expertly mixed head and chest. I thought I had done an okay job of blending the break between my registers, and making some chest sounds when required. I sang the solo, hands shaking with nerves, and I looked and sounded just like a 15 year old opera singer with an undeveloped chest voice. And so I played the keyboards for "Birdland".

Finally, I got to perform a solo on one of Shillelagh's final concerts of the year. I loved a torch song by Julie London (another breathy chesty singer), called Cry Me A River. But there was no way I could sing those low notes, even with a lot of breathiness and a microphone. So I rearranged the song to make it easy for another pianist to play, and transposed it six keys higher. (SIX keys higher??? *Smacks forehead*)

I took music theory the following year, sang Soprano 1 in choir, and someone else played the DX-7. I played Milly in Seven Brides For Seven Brothers (an alto role!) who never really sang high notes and didn't have to sing beautifully in her lower range, either. I just emitted some chest voice sounds and left it at that. It could have been a golden opportunity for me to start learning how to balance my registers. Instead, I learned how to square dance.

It took me another twenty years to finally learn how to strengthen my chest voice so I could blend my registers and make all kinds of mixes, including a belt sound. Right after I learned to belt, I got an unexpected promotion from keyboard player to solo performer . . . more later.

The "Babbino" Bunch

The small and lovely Salt Marsh Opera will present Puccini's comic one-act opera Gianni Schicchi on May 16 at the Pequot Museum in Mashantucket, CT. You should go see it! The gorgeous aria "O Mio Babbino Caro" was written for this work, which premiered in 1918.

You've heard that song, right? Such a beautiful, simple yet elegant melody. Lush, emotional strings support the singer throughout. It's easy to dress it up with a few tasteful portamenti, and a fermata here and there. It's been used in commercials and in the opening credits of the movie of E.M. Forster's A Room With A View. My favorite version is by Kiri Te Kanawa. Her voice is rich and round, just perfect for this aria. Feel free to disagree, my eight blog readers. But I'm right. Anna Netrebko's pretty great, too. Kathleen Battle's voice is smaller (like mine) and her mouth does weird stuff (a source of much discussion among voice teachers), but it's a heartfelt, artistic statement.

The English translation is "Oh, My Beloved Daddy." Gianni Schicchi's daughter Lauretta is begging her father to let her marry Mr. Right. "O Mio Babbino Caro" was the second aria my voice teacher Prof. Hickfang ever gave me, and I loved it instantly. What soprano wouldn't? All those octave leaps from A flat to A flat, all those delicious long notes practically sighing off the page, all those threats of suicide if Daddy won't let her get married! I think my teacher assigned me the aria so I could work on my Italian diction, and get an introduction to grand opera style. The A flats were easy for me to sing. Of course my baby diva voice didn't have the fullness or richness of an actual Lauretta onstage. I sighed with despair when I heard Te Kanawa's version, figuring I'd never sound even half as good or half as loud. I never actually performed it or used it for an audition in high school or college; I was no Lauretta and it was just a study aria for me. (The first aria Prof. Hickfang assigned me was "The Black Swan" from Gian Carlo Menotti's The Medium, an aria I never really liked from an opera I never really understood. Feel free to agree.)

Through the glories of YouTube I found a "Babbino" by Maria Callas, using an amazing amount of chest voice, as she was wont to do. La Divina can get away with it. If the desperate maiden is pushing 50, chest voice is appropriate and adds a certain note of verismo.

It's trickier if the maiden is 9. "O Mio Babbino Caro" is now a staple for the Infant Diva who wants to audition for talent shows, but can't belt. (Dear Lord, it's like all talent shows are down to two acts: "Let It Go" and "O Mio Babbino Caro"!) The attractions of the aria remain the same: High notes, easy Italian, quick song. But most of the baby divas I've heard sing it on YouTube try to imitate Te Kanawa and other adult women in all the wrong ways -- they add chest voice to be able to hit the low notes, bunch up their tongues in the backs of their mouths, move their bent arms stiffly like mannequins, and add wobbly vibrato to try to sound more grown up. Some hear "The Voice Of An Angel" who is blooming early like an azalea; I hear a singer whose career will be over before she can drive.

Vocalists who have learned to sing without constriction and distortion will eclipse them. The only exception to this rule is Sarah Brightman, who commits all these vocal crimes and still seems to be able to put food on the table. I can't explain Sarah. I can't explain why the dinosaurs died, either, but as with Sarah's approach to Puccini, it was tragic.

I believe this is the fate that awaits Jackie Evancho, who sang the song she called 'O Mio Poppino Caro' on TV as a fourth grader. It might come even more swiftly for Amira Willinghagen, Holland's strangle-throated answer to Jackie, who was America's answer to Charlotte Church, who was England's answer to Deanna Durbin, who was singing the heroic tenor aria "Nessun Dorma" in English at age 22, on film. At least Deanna sang the hell out of it, and was wearing something larger than a training bra. She also had the good sense to retire in her mid-20s and live on as a legend until her death last year.

I've actually coached a nine year old who chose "O Mio Babbino Caro" for -- of course -- a talent show. Like Jackie, she had no idea where the song came from, who was actually singing it in the opera, or how old that character was. She had heard lots of versions of the aria on YouTube and was imitating Jackie's bad traits, and internalizing them. So, I did some reprogramming. I insisted on natural vibrato only, and only very light chest voice on the lowest notes. I kept encouraging a light, age-appropriate head voice and an unaffected presentation. She won second place.

I'm looking forward to Salt Marsh Opera's production, and enjoying the aria in context. I admit, there's something about Puccini that brings out the opera singer in everyone, and sometimes they just can't be stopped. Here, the maiden looks a lot like Chris Tucker and sings a perfectly fine amateur countertenor.

Oh gosh, that was funny. I loved the predictably fatuous pronouncements by the judges. I loved the ending. I loved that it was over.