VOCAL CORDS
But, of course, breathing alone is not sufficient. After the breathing
capacity has been developed the power thus acquired must be rightly
applied, and here the first principle is right emission, and in
particular the rule that the release of the breath and the attack of the
tone must take place simultaneously. In other words, no breath at all
must be permitted to escape before the production of tone.
It is to attain this result that the so-called _coup de glotte_, or
“shock of the glottis,” has been advocated. To appreciate this term it
is necessary to understand exactly how vocal tone is produced.
I will not attempt to go into the matter fully, but the general
principles involved are quite easily grasped.
Taken broadly, then, it will be understood that vocal sound is produced
by a column of air passing from the lungs through a small aperture
formed by the vocal cords within the larynx (see diagrams). When we
breathe in the ordinary way the air passes in and out as we inspire and
exhale, without any sound being produced. This is because the passage
through the larynx is then quite clear. No obstruction is offered to the
air current, and in consequence the process is quite noiseless.
When, however, we wish to utter a sound, Nature provides for this by
enabling us to interpose an obstruction to the air current by means of
the vocal cords, and the air then has to pass through a small slit or
aperture, sometimes called the “vocal chink,” formed by their being
drawn closely together curtainwise, as it were.
[Illustration: GLOTTIS AND OPENING BETWEEN THE VOCAL CORDS
VOCAL CORDS OPEN
BONES TO WHICH VOCAL CORDS ARE ATTACHED
THE VOCAL CORDS DURING DEEP BREATHING.]
When the vocal cords--or ligaments, as they are perhaps better
described--are drawn together in this manner the passage of the air is
so restricted that it can only pass in short rapid pulsations, instead
of, as before, in a continuous stream, and the result of these pulses
or vibrations is the production of sound or tone.
The aperture, or chink, is called the glottis, and the character of the
tone resulting, in particular the pitch of it, is regulated by the
precise disposition and proximity to one another of the two bands or
cords or ligaments--sometimes they are known as the vocal lips--by which
the chink or opening is formed.
[Illustration: THE VOCAL CORDS DURING THE SINGING OF A HIGH NOTE.]
The process itself of regulating the opening of the vocal cords in this
way is entirely automatic and subconscious. We merely _will_, to produce
a tone of a certain pitch and the vocal cords automatically, and without
any conscious effort on our part, are brought together to precisely the
right degree necessary to produce that particular tone.
From this it will be understood that every note that is uttered, every
inflection even of the speaking voice, however minute, requires a
slightly different adjustment of these infinitely delicate threadlike
membranes which are provided for this purpose within the box-like
larynx; and this extraordinarily delicate adjustment is all effected
quite automatically and instinctively by the mere operations of the
will.
The brain intimates, so to speak, that it requires a certain note to be
produced and forthwith, without the slightest conscious act of
adjustment on the part of the singer or speaker, the vocal ligaments
adapt themselves precisely in the manner required and the particular
note desired is duly produced.
And these notes may issue forth through that tiny aperture and from the
throat of the singer to the number of a dozen or more in a second--each
one requiring a separate adjustment of the aperture and the said
adjustment being effected in every instance, in the case of a properly
trained singer, absolutely perfectly and exactly.
Surely of all the many wonderful contrivances which go to the making of
the mechanism of the human body there is none which is more wonderful
than this! It is, indeed, necessary only to consider the elaboration of
the means and the complexity of the muscular adjustments necessary to
achieve similar results in the case of a violin, say, or a piano, in
order to realise the amazing ingenuity and efficiency of the means
employed by Nature.
But I am wandering from the _coup de glotte_, which I set out to
explain. Let it be understood, therefore, that the _coup de glotte_ is
merely a name for a particular method of bringing together the lips of
the vocal cords and certain subordinate muscles, known as the
ventricular bands, with a view to a better and cleaner production of
tone, and with a view especially to the avoidance of the particular
fault above referred to, namely, the emission of air before the
production of the note.
In the result the “attack” is certainly very sharp and clean, but
personally I cannot recommend this particular method of achieving that
result, since the effect is anything but agreeable to the ear, and there
is good reason for thinking that the practice, besides being
unnecessary, is also injurious to a vocal organ.
I will not go further into the matter, however, since all such technical
details are for the teacher to explain and illustrate and cannot be
satisfactorily dealt with in print.
Certain general principles may, however, be touched on, amongst which
the first is, perhaps, that there should never be at any time the
smallest conscious strain or effort. Relaxation, looseness, ease, should
be the watchwords all the time. Rigidity, tightening of the muscles,
stiffness, contraction, are fatal to the production of beautiful tone.
Here, as so often in art, when grace and beauty are the objects aimed
at, economy of effort is the grand secret.
There should never be any strain or forcing of any sort or kind, and on
the same principle, it may be noted, is the rule as to the amount of
breath emitted, which should always be the smallest quantity possible
which suffices to produce the tone required. Let out enough breath and
no more--keeping the remainder in reserve--that is one of the
fundamental secrets of beautiful tone production.
Lilli Lehmann puts the same point in another way when she insists on the
supreme importance of emitting “as little breath as possible.” Perhaps I
may be permitted to quote, also, in this connection some interesting
remarks of Signor Salvatore Fucito, in a recently published volume, in
reference to the practice of Caruso in this regard.
“Caruso governed the expiratory flow of the breath with such mastery
that not a particle of it escaped without giving up its necessary
equivalent in tone. Caruso emitted for each musical phrase, or for each
note, just enough breath to produce that phrase or note musically and
_no more_. The remaining breath he kept in reserve, which made the
enchanted hearer feel that the master was still far from the limit of
his resources, that he had still ample motive power in reserve for
whatever the occasion might require.”
Another great master of breathing is Battistini. One hears him singing
long phrases, one after the other, without perceiving when or how he
fills his lungs, so completely has he covered up all traces of the
physical effort. There is no puffing and panting, no discoloration or
distortion of the face.
I am myself often asked how I manage to find the breath for the long
florid passages which I so often have to sing, and my reply usually is
that I have a good pair of bellows which I make a point of always
keeping well filled with air.
This can be done, I may add, in the case of such passages as I have
mentioned by taking at times only partial breaths instead of full ones.
These can naturally be taken much more quickly than complete
inspirations, and by their means the “bellows” can be kept constantly
replenished even when the heaviest demands are being made upon their
contents.
But while it is essential to maintain a good pressure of air behind the
tone, this does not mean that the lungs must be filled to distention,
for this produces the worst possible result. Madame Lilli Lehmann has
recorded, for instance, in her valuable treatise on singing, that she
made this mistake in the first instance, with the result that she
always felt as if she must release some of her superfluous breath before
beginning to sing.
“Undoubtedly,” she writes, “I took in too much air in breathing and
cramped various muscles, thereby depriving my breathing organs and
muscles of their elasticity. I often had, with all my care and
preparation for inhalation, too little breath, and sometimes, when not
giving special thought to it, more than enough.” And others not
infrequently commit the same error under the mistaken impression that
they must get as much air into their lungs as possible.