THIRD PRINCIPLE
Breath is an indispensable factor in voice production, but _it
is not_ the essential power which develops the voice as it is
taught to-day. On the contrary, the function of singing develops
the breathing apparatus and its power, just as any physiological
function develops the organ from which it takes origin.
Therefore, _singing_ develops _breathing_, not _breathing_,
_singing_.
The suggestion that any one who wants to learn piano playing,
dancing, skating, fencing or any other sport should first
undergo special training for the development of his fingers,
arms or legs would undoubtedly seem preposterous. The same false
principle, nevertheless, when related to the art of singing,
does not give rise to any objection. On the contrary, the
artificial training of the breathing apparatus for the purpose
of learning to sing is such a commonplace practice at the
present time in the teaching field that all kinds of physical
exercises for developing the muscles of respiration and the
chest are urged in most books on voice. It would rather seem
that the singing students were being prepared for an athletic
career.
The author, much interested in the teaching methods prevailing
nowadays has frequently questioned beginners regarding the kind
of vocal exercises they were taught in their preliminary work,
and has often been informed that their training was confined
principally to breathing maneuvers for the development of the
diaphragm and breathing apparatus. In one instance the student,
a young man of twenty-five years, told that his teacher was
making him sing scales for an hour a day, saying: “_he_, _he_,
_he_,” and that peculiar exercise had been indulged in for nine
months under the supervision of this well-known teacher in New
York for the sole purpose of strengthening the diaphragm, so
that the pupil could put his breathing apparatus in form for
further voice training.
This is by no means the strangest method advocated by singing
teachers. From another pupil we have learned of the “_umbrella
method_,” which consists in opening the umbrella for the
expansion of the chest and closing it during the inspiration.
Enrico Caruso, while commenting on these methods, told the
writer of a teacher who had his pupils lie flat on the floor and
breathe while he was piling a specific number of bricks on their
chest. By increasing their number gradually, thus putting a
severe test on the resistance of the pupil’s chest, the teacher
would measure the progress made each time.
It seems ludicrous that grotesque performances of this kind are
still going on in the studios of many teachers in our days of
progress and evolution when science has revolutionized our life
with the most astonishing discoveries.
Independently, however, of these considerations, the fact that
breathing is a physiological function brings this subject into
the field of science, which alone can establish well-defined
rules of physiology in reference to the act of singing. The
rules of physiology and no others must be in charge of the
function of breathing during the process of voice production.
We remember having read this invaluable statement in a book on
singing: “He sings best who attains the best results with the
least expenditure of energy.” It could be advantageously
completed by adding: “He sings the longest who forces his voice
the least.”
Breath in voice production is unquestionably a most important
factor; but its importance must be properly appraised and
considered more in the light of _breath distribution_ for
attaining an artistic style of singing, than in that of force.
The principal error of the many voice experts and teachers is
that they totally disregard, when it comes to voice production,
the fundamental law of physiology that governs all human
functions: “the minimum of energy for the maximum of
efficiency.”
The amount of energy developed by a human organ in order to
produce a certain action constitutes what is called a
_physiological function_. This amount should be the minimum the
organ can produce, and the result should be the maximum of
efficiency as related to the energy employed. This balanced
relationship between power and efficiency constitutes the
_normal function_ of an active organ, and establishes the
correct mechanism of every organic function.
Applying this principle to the physiological mechanism of
breathing in voice production, it is evident that the minimum of
breath which is capable of putting in vibration the vocal cords
and generating sufficient sound vibrations for producing the
different tones of the vocal range, constitutes the _normal
amount required_ for the correct function of singing.
This establishes the fundamental relationship between the moving
power—the breath, and the producing power—the larynx.
From this principle we derive the very important deduction that
only the _normal_ breath has the physiological property of
producing correct tones; in other words, scientifically, only
the normal breath can give the exact number of vibrations
necessary to produce a tone in its exact pitch, and in its
normal volume, loudness, and quality. A surplus of breath, by
increasing the number of vibrations of the tone, alters the
pitch and the aforementioned dimensions—volume, quality, and
loudness.
Another fact that has been discarded in general is the evident
danger of exposing the voice to physical deterioration by using
the breath under high pressure, for, were it recognized, its
employment would be radically modified.
No real advantage, under any circumstances, can result from use
of the voice under high pressure, just as no advantage can
accrue to a fencer from using his arm under a terrific strain.
In every wind instrument, oboe, clarinet, flute, etc., the
expert player employs an amount of breath rather small compared
with that of the inexperienced player; and the tone of the
instrument is much larger and more melodious in the former case
than in the latter. The instrument itself, if played always
under high pressure, deteriorates easily and lasts but a few
years; after some time of strenuous use no sound can be gotten
out of it unless a tremendous amount of breath is spent. The
same happens with pianos after years of hard pounding.
In the vocal apparatus these conditions are more manifest. In
fact, by blowing forcibly into an ordinary wooden or metal
instrument its walls, being rigid, do not react; while in the
vocal instrument the muscles and cartilages of the throat, and
above all the vocal cords can be very much affected by the
violent stroke of the blast of air. The throat reacting becomes
very tense, and the vocal cords under the exaggerated pressure
cannot produce their vibrations normally, since their movements
are not coördinate, equal and balanced, for lack of proper
control.
When the vibrations of the vocal cords are not equal,
synchronous and balanced, they cannot, according to the laws of
acoustics, produce perfect tones, because this condition
establishes the decisive difference between tone and noise. The
voice, therefore, produced under high pressure, approaches in
quality rather a noisy sound than a distinct tone and loses all
the characteristics attached to its natural beauty, besides
being out of the scientifically correct pitch. The result is
that the efforts and large expenditure of energy used by singers
serve the sole purpose of deforming and wasting what nature
provided in a correct form—the precious gift of a beautiful
voice.
From this fundamental fault many others of psychological nature
originate, all of which combine to make of the most spontaneous
and easy act of singing a very difficult and dangerous function.
The fatal consequences are the deformity and the deterioration
of the vocal organs, which are destined to wear out more easily
than any wind instrument.
The fact that many singers force their voices with the idea of
getting better results invites this question: Do they realize
that they are forcing? Do they foresee the disastrous
consequences which they are inviting by doing so?
Usually _not_. As a matter of fact any remark made to them to
the effect that they are abusing their vocal organs is always
emphatically denied; they assure you that they _are not using_
any force; that their singing is the easiest and most
spontaneous action. Meanwhile they are giving full evidence that
they have not voice enough left for making this explanation
convincing—a peculiar and unfortunate psychology! An intoxicated
person, while trying to stand on his feet, always persists in
saying, “Do you think I am drunk?”
Thus we find this class of singers always ready to make an
emphatic show of the expansion of their chests, and to parade
around asking people _to feel with their own hands_ the
resistance of their diaphragm; and while their strenuous singing
is a real effort they do not hesitate to say that it comes to
them most naturally.
These singers see only the spring of their careers and vanish
before the summer.
What is responsible for this absence of self-judgment?
A little thought brings about this conclusion. The mechanism of
voice production which these singers, by discarding natural
laws, employ under high pressure of breath, establishes from the
very outset of their voice education a false background of rules
and theories on which their psychological conception of singing
is formed. Adding to this the faulty training which gradually
deteriorates their vocal organs by exercises of an injurious
nature, it is inevitable that the wrong foundation becomes the
natural standard of voice production for these students who are
to be the future singers.
On the other hand, the fact that they have never been accustomed
to a normal production of tones makes them unaware of the
difference between their voice production and the correct one.
Therefore, they can never see their own defects, just as the
ragtime player, while he bangs heavily on the piano, cannot see
the difference between his playing and the delicate touch of a
refined interpreter of Chopin.
The real responsibility for the false conception of the
important part breath control plays in the production of the
voice rests entirely with the incompetent teachers of to-day,
whose methods are based on erroneous principles.
The absurd and unnatural use of the breathing apparatus, and
especially the _magic_ power centered on the diaphragm,
constitute the true cause of so much bad singing nowadays. The
few celebrities of the singing stage we possess offer us the
best evidence against these erroneous methods.
If it were true that the power of breath and the strength of the
diaphragm play such an important part in the mechanism of voice
production, what would happen to those who are not endowed with
such physical resources of large proportions? It would seem that
those of small stature and of delicate structure would be
deprived of great vocal production.
Bonci, for instance, is one of our greatest and most correct
singers, whose breath has never failed to assist him in his
artistic delivery; yet everybody knows that Bonci is not built
like an athlete.
It is a strange coincidence that many coloratura sopranos and
lyric tenors who sing mostly in the upper tones of the range and
who, according to the theories in vogue, should require a huge
amount of breath and terrific strength of the diaphragm for the
support of their sustained tones, happen to be rather
undeveloped physically and oftentimes have not even the power of
breath resistance given to the average person. We can cite the
case of a world-famous coloratura soprano, very frail and
delicate, who startled the musical world with an instantaneous
success, and whose breath never failed her in the most difficult
executions of her coloratura variations. On the other hand, we
could name a large number of strongly developed singers, with
large chest expansion, whose voices are painfully poor and
insufficient. Taking into consideration their physical
appearance, their developed lungs, muscles of respiration and
all other organs related to the vocal apparatus, these athletic
specimens could offer no excuse for the insufficiency of their
voice if it were true that voice production depends so much on
the strength of breath.
It is evidently untrue that with the aid of physical equipment
capable of producing a large amount of breath, or with a
particularly well-developed diaphragm a singer is endowed with
the indispensable assets for good voice production. This false
theory, which unfortunately is almost universal to-day, can
hardly be defied without offending the traditional feelings of
the faithful believer in the diaphragm’s almighty power!
Furthermore, this erroneous principle has so influenced the
musical world that even those outside the singing field, such as
some music critics and dilettanti, have set the power of breath
and the strength of the diaphragm as a standard in appraising
the value of an operatic or concert singer. “Short of breath,”
“diaphragm support,” “strength of breath” are the usual epithets
employed in the discussion of artists and their singing merits.
Even the great Caruso has not escaped the application of this
false standard of judgment; he whose phenomenally sustained
tones were not the result of a strenuous breath-power but of a
marvelously balanced distribution of it which enabled him to
indulge in his most striking effects.
The greatest singers of the past knew very little indeed about
the diaphragm and the mechanism of voice production in general;
still their names remain revered in the memories of music
lovers. I believe that most of our best contemporary singers
have only the vaguest notion of the physical mechanism of the
voice, but they are not to be reproached as long as their
singing conforms with natural laws.
The following incident has been related to us by a prominent
American soprano. The famous Adelina Patti was visiting the
studio of a world-renowned singer and teacher in Paris to hear
some of his pupils. After one of the students, who had been
cautioned by the professor as to the use of his diaphragm, had
finished singing, Patti turned to the teacher and very candidly
inquired, “Well, what is that diaphragm? I never heard of it
during my career.” This is one of the most striking remarks made
by an indisputable authority in confirmation of our theory.
In the fields of Italy the author has heard the peasants—while
they work at picking olives or grapes from the ground—sing in a
chorus their popular folk songs, as is their custom. Among them
he could detect some soprano voices reaching such high pitch
that it was almost inconceivable to imagine that human voices
could attain such altitudes. Yet these natural singers were
kneeling on the ground in a cramped position, and, judging from
the beauty and the ease of their voices, wonderful and blessed
seemed the absence of theories and methods about the use of the
diaphragm in singing. Their voice production was physiologically
as perfect as it was unconscious, and I am sure that the
diaphragm-apostles of the teaching fraternity of to-day would
feel doubtful about their theories had they the opportunity to
hear them.
Here, in New York, a little boy eleven years of age, born of
poor parents, was discovered by an American physician, who,
while passing through one of the streets of the lower East side,
was attracted by a beautiful voice coming from one of the
crowded tenements. The physician made inquiries about the
possessor of the beautiful voice and was greatly astounded when
he was presented to a tiny, underdeveloped lad. The same evening
the child was presented to the writer, who, looking at the tiny
singer, concluded that the matter of his voice had been
exaggerated by the enthusiastic discoverer. He asked the child
what he could sing. “Pagliacci, Martha, Rigoletto,” was the
unexpected answer. “Who taught you to sing?” “Caruso ... on the
phonograph,” he answered. And the child, taking the floor like
an experienced tenor, sang one after another of the most
difficult arias from the above-mentioned operas, with a big
resonant voice, in which the natural sentiment and pathos were
not secondary to the dramatic force and expression suggested to
the child by the powerful singing of his teacher—Caruso.
During the wonderful and touching performance of this little
singer one could not refrain from a sense of pity for those
mighty disciples of a _trained diaphragm_, who, while trying in
vain to produce perhaps one-half the amount of voice of that
miniature tenor, look almost ready to explode like rubber
balloons.
What then, is this concern about the breath? Why the need of
such long training for the artificial development of the
diaphragm?
Breathing is a natural function, independent even of our own
will. We cannot prevent breathing. Let nature, then, take care
of this function; she will provide for it when necessity
presents itself. Let nature suggest or rather carry out her own
mechanism of breathing, and let us not attempt to interfere with
it and deform it.
We breathe all the time, whether awake, asleep or unconscious.
Our very life is dependent on this providential function and we
have no reason to think of it. _Why then should we devote so
much thought to it when singing?_
Of course we must discriminate between _force_ of breath and
_skill_ of distribution. If more attention and effort were given
to the latter a proper conception of the mechanism of singing
would be obtained. The singer who after a few tones is compelled
to take another breath does not know how to distribute his
breath, even though he may be an expert in breathing and in the
art of using his _highly trained diaphragm_.
On the other hand, the singer who knows how to distribute his
breath never runs short of it, and the normal respiration
furnishes him enough power with no cause to worry about the
strength of his diaphragm or his intercostal muscles. Nature
helps him in the most exceptional instances, such as exist in
certain operatic arias where a surplus of air is necessary to
produce dramatic effects, coloratura variations and long
cadenzas. Caruso’s singing in the “Pagliacci” aria was the
typical demonstration of this statement.
Our conception about the all important factor—the moving
power—in the mechanism of voice production discards all theories
and suggestions related to the different types of breathing,
such as the clavicular costal or abdominal respiration because
we believe that the student of singing should not be conscious
while performing this natural function of life. The
physiological respiration, which we employ from our birth, is
the natural one, and it must also rule our breathing when we are
singing.
The beginner who applies to a teacher for assistance in voice
culture, and is put under the shameful training of artificial
means for developing his breathing apparatus like a circus
athlete, and whose mind is fed on the absurdity that the secret
of good singing lies in the strength of his breath and the power
of his diaphragm, is misled at the very outset of his career,
and is given a false foundation. He invariably loses the
spontaneous conception of singing, which usually is given by
nature itself as a compliment of her gift of a beautiful voice.
It should, therefore, be left to nature to take care of her own
product—the voice—and if the student is endowed with
intelligence and a marked musical sense he does not need any
artificial help other than a guiding hand to watch his
development and to keep him always under the control of natural
laws. The guiding hand should be the teacher and nothing
artificial should be substituted for nature itself.
The strength of the breath and its volume in singing must be the
result of a correct mechanism of voice production; by the
_prolonged but normal_ employment of breath the muscles of
respiration become naturally stronger and gradually increase
their power of resistance. This system alone, after years of
voice training and a singing career, will acquire that perfect
control which is one of the fundamental pillars of correct
singing. Practically the same thing will happen as in the case
of dancing, fencing, or any other physical sport.
_The physiological laws of respiration, therefore, must be the
sole rules to follow_, and all false notions about the
artificial development of the respiratory organs must be
discarded as dangerous by those who aspire to a successful vocal
career.