If one should ask me what is the first consideration in becoming a
success as a singer, I should say the ability to criticise one's self.
In my own case I had a very competent musician as a teacher. He told me
that my voice was naturally placed and did very little to help place it
according to his own ideas. Perhaps that was well for me, because I knew
myself what I was about. He used to say, "That sounds beautiful," but
all the time I knew that it sounded terrible. It was then that I learned
that my ear must be my best teacher. My teacher, for instance, told me
that I would never be able to trill. This was very disheartening; but he
really believed, according to his conservative knowledge, that I should
never succeed in getting the necessary flexibility.
By chance I happened to meet a celebrated Swedish singer, Mme. Oestberg,
of the old school. I communicated to her the discouraging news that I
could never hope to trill. "Nonsense, my dear," she said, "someone told
me that too, but I determined that I was going to learn. I did not know
how to go about it exactly, but I knew that with the proper patience and
will-power I would succeed. Therefore I worked up to three o'clock one
morning, and before I went to bed I was able to trill."
I decided to take Mme. Oestberg's advice, and I practiced for several
days until I knew that I could trill, and then I went back to my teacher
and showed him what I could do. He had to admit it was a good trill,
and he couldn't understand how I had so successfully disproved his
theories by accomplishing it. It was then that I learned that the singer
can do almost anything within the limits of the voice, if one will only
work hard enough. Work is the great producer, and there is no substitute
for it. Do not think that I am ungrateful to my teacher. He gave me a
splendid musical drilling in all the standard solfeggios, in which he
was most precise; and in later years I said to him, "I am not grateful
to you for making my voice, but because you did not spoil it."
After having sung a great deal and thought introspectively a great deal
about the voice, one naturally begins to form a kind of philosophy
regarding it. Of course, breathing exercises are the basis of all good
singing methods, but it seems to me that singing teachers ask many of
their pupils to do many queer impractical things in breathing, things
that "don't work" when the singer is obliged to stand up before a big
audience and make everyone hear without straining.
If I were to teach a young girl right at this moment I would simply ask
her to take a deep breath and note the expansion at the waist just above
the diaphragm. Then I would ask her to say as many words as possible
upon that breath, at the same time having the muscles adjacent to the
diaphragm to support the breath; that is, to sustain it and not collapse
or try to push it up. The trick is to get the most tone, not with the
most breath but with the least breath, and especially the very least
possible strain at the throat, which must be kept in a floating,
gossamer-like condition all the time. I see girls, who have been to
expensive teachers, doing all sorts of wonderful calisthenics with the
diaphragm, things that God certainly did not intend us to do in learning
to speak and to sing.
Any attempt to draw in the front walls of the abdomen or the intercostal
muscles during singing must put a kind of pneumatic pressure upon the
breath stream, which is sure to constrict the throat. Therefore, in my
own singing, I note the opposite effect. That is, there is rather a
sensation of expansion instead of contraction during the process of
expiration. This soon becomes very comfortable, relieves the throat of
strain, relieves the tones of breathiness or all idea of forcing. There
is none of the ugly heaving of the chest or shoulders; the body is in
repose, and the singer has a firm grip upon the tone in the right way.
The muscles of the front wall of the abdomen and the muscles between the
lower ribs become very strong and equal to any strain, while the throat
is free.
In the emission of the actual tone itself I would advise the sensation
of inhaling at first. The beginner should blow out the tone. Usually
instead of having a lovely floating character, with the impression of
control, the tone starts with being forced, and it always remains so.
The singer oversings and has nothing in reserve. When I am singing I
feel as though the farther away from the throat, the deeper down I can
control the breath stream, the better and freer the tone becomes.
Furthermore, I can sing the long, difficult Wagnerian roles, with their
tremendous demands upon the vocal organs, without the least sensation of
fatigue. Some singers, after such performances, are "all in." No wonder
they lose their voices when they should be in their prime.
For me the most difficult vowel is "ah." The throat then is most open
and the breath stream most difficult to control properly. Therefore I
make it a habit to begin my practice with "oo, oh, ah, ay, ee" in
succession. I never start with sustained tones. This would give my
throat time to stiffen. I employ quick, soft scales, always remembering
the basic principle of breath control I have mentioned, and always as
though inhaling. This is an example of what I mean. To avoid shrillness
on the upper tone I take the highest note with oo and descend with oo.
[Illustration: musical notation: Ex. 1]
The same thought applied to an arpeggio would be:
[Illustration: musical notation: Ex. 2]
These I take within comfortable limits of my voice, always remembering
that the least strain is a backward step. These exercises are taken
through all possible keys. There can never be too much practice of a
scale or arpeggio exercise. Many singers, I know, who wonder why they do
not succeed, cannot do a good scale, the very first thing they should be
able to do. Every one should be like perfect pearls on a thread.