ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (10-25-18)
Most people know how to sing, many people like to sing and some people love to sing. It's an unique diversion that lies at the intersection of many disparate disciplines. There is usually a tune involved, and whatever artistry that comes with it. There are usually lyrics, and so meaning and context are much more readily apparent than in instrumental music. A wide variety of other elements may be wrapped up into the bargain, like emotion, rhythm, religion, politics and even education.
To explore these issues further and to try to get in better touch with my own singing, I went to an all-day seminar called "the Natural Singer" at the Open Center in Manhattan. The Open Center is a place where words like "transformative" and "healing" come up quite often, so I ate a hamburger with a lot of ketchup beforehand to counterbalance the effects of being around such a nurturing
environment. The class consisted of 20 women and 3 men, so right away I was vastly outnumbered.
We started out with some breathing exercises. I learned how to breathe properly, and I've been doing it wrong for so many years it's a wonder I haven't dropped dead by now. When the instructor took a breath, he showed how his stomach got bigger, whereas I thought the air was supposed to go into your lungs. Live and learn, if you live that long. We did some voice calisthenics consisting of some weird sounds designed to loosen up your vocal cords. They sounded like Felix Unger clearing his sinuses, and come to think of it my sinuses did feel better afterwards.
I've noticed that there isn't much correlation between how well you sing and how loud you sing, If you've ever been to karaoke night at the local bar, you've heard "Paradise by the Dashboard Light" sung at deafening volume, and with even the Phil Rizzuto call in the middle performed off key. I once heard a girl sing "Killing Me Softly with His Song" out of tune so loudly that I was sure that she was trying to kill me faster. By the way, any decent doctor will tell you that strumming your pain with your fingers is just going to exacerbate it and cause an inflammation, and I wouldn't be surprised if all that strumming is what caused the pain in the first place. If someone had been strumming my pain with their fingers and I wrote a song about it, it would have been an entirely different song.
Anyway, the instructor asked each member of the class to say a few words about why they were there and what they wanted to get out of it. A couple people said that they wanted to become "self-actualized" through singing. I'm not sure if I would know when I was self-actualized, so if you happen to notice that I am, please do me a favor and let me know so I can cross it off my list. One wanted to find "her truth" by singing. That sounded pretty good to me, but if the truth is that I can't sing, then I'm okay living a lie. One really nice older fellow named Jack said he wanted to be able to sing outside of the shower. Some wanted to just have fun singing and be able to carry a tune, not necessarily very far. Not everyone had lofty goals. Mine was to be able to sing without straining my voice so much.
We broke for a long lunch and I bought an organically grown, locally sourced cup of coffee harvested by indigenous peoples and served in a biodegradable cup that started to break down into its core elements while I was still drinking from it. The coffee cost $3.25, and one thing I notice is that health food is never healthy for your wallet. "Have you seen Rick's wallet lately? It looks TERRIBLE- It has lost a TON of weight. I heard it's on a health food diet, and clearly it is not working. I don't think it's long for this world." I usually take one Sweet'n Low in my coffee, but all they had was a container of this brown-looking sugar, and I had to use the entire rest of the bottle, which was about a quarter of it to get anything done. The guy behind me wasn't too thrilled with me using it all up, and I thought that if he punches me, health food won't be so healthy for my face, either.
After lunch we were each called upon to sing a song for the rest of the class, which was instructed to be only supportive. Before long it became clear that most people had all kinds of underlying issues to deal with that singing wasn't going to cure. All of a sudden I was in a reality show, and the instructor was digging deep into troubled pasts, and people were fighting back tears. One gal burst out crying before the song even started. Hey, I've been there. I suffered in my childhood. I was poor growing up in Chappaqua and had to make ends meet on a fifty-cent allowance. I was forced to mow the lawn every Saturday for my room and board, and I'm not talking about an especially large room.
We talked her down, worked through her issues, and we triumphed. Finally, she rose like a Phoenix from the ashes, and we all clapped. I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach, which may have been that damned organic coffee. The rest of us performed, and people were self-actualized. I sang without straining my voice. People found their truth, and they embraced the joy of singing. And Jack said he felt comfortable enough to sing outside of the shower. The consensus was, however, that he still remain inside the bathroom.
Most people know how to sing, many people like to sing and some people love to sing. It's an unique diversion that lies at the intersection of many disparate disciplines. There is usually a tune involved, and whatever artistry that comes with it. There are usually lyrics, and so meaning and context are much more readily apparent than in instrumental music. A wide variety of other elements may be wrapped up into the bargain, like emotion, rhythm, religion, politics and even education.
To explore these issues further and to try to get in better touch with my own singing, I went to an all-day seminar called "the Natural Singer" at the Open Center in Manhattan. The Open Center is a place where words like "transformative" and "healing" come up quite often, so I ate a hamburger with a lot of ketchup beforehand to counterbalance the effects of being around such a nurturing
environment. The class consisted of 20 women and 3 men, so right away I was vastly outnumbered.
We started out with some breathing exercises. I learned how to breathe properly, and I've been doing it wrong for so many years it's a wonder I haven't dropped dead by now. When the instructor took a breath, he showed how his stomach got bigger, whereas I thought the air was supposed to go into your lungs. Live and learn, if you live that long. We did some voice calisthenics consisting of some weird sounds designed to loosen up your vocal cords. They sounded like Felix Unger clearing his sinuses, and come to think of it my sinuses did feel better afterwards.
I've noticed that there isn't much correlation between how well you sing and how loud you sing, If you've ever been to karaoke night at the local bar, you've heard "Paradise by the Dashboard Light" sung at deafening volume, and with even the Phil Rizzuto call in the middle performed off key. I once heard a girl sing "Killing Me Softly with His Song" out of tune so loudly that I was sure that she was trying to kill me faster. By the way, any decent doctor will tell you that strumming your pain with your fingers is just going to exacerbate it and cause an inflammation, and I wouldn't be surprised if all that strumming is what caused the pain in the first place. If someone had been strumming my pain with their fingers and I wrote a song about it, it would have been an entirely different song.
Anyway, the instructor asked each member of the class to say a few words about why they were there and what they wanted to get out of it. A couple people said that they wanted to become "self-actualized" through singing. I'm not sure if I would know when I was self-actualized, so if you happen to notice that I am, please do me a favor and let me know so I can cross it off my list. One wanted to find "her truth" by singing. That sounded pretty good to me, but if the truth is that I can't sing, then I'm okay living a lie. One really nice older fellow named Jack said he wanted to be able to sing outside of the shower. Some wanted to just have fun singing and be able to carry a tune, not necessarily very far. Not everyone had lofty goals. Mine was to be able to sing without straining my voice so much.
We broke for a long lunch and I bought an organically grown, locally sourced cup of coffee harvested by indigenous peoples and served in a biodegradable cup that started to break down into its core elements while I was still drinking from it. The coffee cost $3.25, and one thing I notice is that health food is never healthy for your wallet. "Have you seen Rick's wallet lately? It looks TERRIBLE- It has lost a TON of weight. I heard it's on a health food diet, and clearly it is not working. I don't think it's long for this world." I usually take one Sweet'n Low in my coffee, but all they had was a container of this brown-looking sugar, and I had to use the entire rest of the bottle, which was about a quarter of it to get anything done. The guy behind me wasn't too thrilled with me using it all up, and I thought that if he punches me, health food won't be so healthy for my face, either.
After lunch we were each called upon to sing a song for the rest of the class, which was instructed to be only supportive. Before long it became clear that most people had all kinds of underlying issues to deal with that singing wasn't going to cure. All of a sudden I was in a reality show, and the instructor was digging deep into troubled pasts, and people were fighting back tears. One gal burst out crying before the song even started. Hey, I've been there. I suffered in my childhood. I was poor growing up in Chappaqua and had to make ends meet on a fifty-cent allowance. I was forced to mow the lawn every Saturday for my room and board, and I'm not talking about an especially large room.
We talked her down, worked through her issues, and we triumphed. Finally, she rose like a Phoenix from the ashes, and we all clapped. I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach, which may have been that damned organic coffee. The rest of us performed, and people were self-actualized. I sang without straining my voice. People found their truth, and they embraced the joy of singing. And Jack said he felt comfortable enough to sing outside of the shower. The consensus was, however, that he still remain inside the bathroom.
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