While returning from the Classical Singer Convention in New York City last month, I entered the Newark Airport security screening area only to be assaulted by the most ear¬splitting sound I had ever heard. For some reason the emergency lights around the room were flashing red and a high-pitched, pulsating alarm was screeching away over the airport’s PA system. I felt like the noise was beating me up at a cellular level, rattling my bones and jarring my brain so I couldn’t quite think clearly. An hour of this would be an excellent form of torture.
In spite of the noise, travelers filed into orderly lines to remove their shoes and laptops and pass through the screening. Airport screeners continued to check IDs, clear trays, and scan computer screens with the same calm and melancholy as usual. I even watched one man attempt to talk on his cell phone over the deafening noise, plugging one ear with one hand while pressing the phone tightly to his other ear.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity but was in reality only about five minutes, the insufferable siren ceased. There was a collective sigh, a few people clapped briefly, and then silence—beautiful, clear, clean silence—reigned.
As singers we are immersed in a field whose foundation is sound. We make sound, listen to sound, and are surrounded constantly by sound. Sometimes the barrage of noise coming at us from all sides can create a cacophonous internal chaos. Finding moments of contrasting quiet can be critical for clear thinking. I was struck by several examples of that in this issue of Classical Singer.
Perhaps the most obvious can be found in this month’s Teacher’s Corner. Ellen Hargis talks about the noise inside our heads—those negative and critical voices often fueled by what our teachers and coaches are saying. Hargis shares ideas for changing the negative self-talk, becoming your own best cheerleader, and speaking more positively as teachers in the studio.
John Duykers, a remarkable tenor and teacher featured in this month’s cover story, knows the value of taking time for himself. In the early days of his career, he sang baritone. When he made the challenging switch to tenor, he holed up for six months to try and figure out his new voice. Eighty roles later, those six months proved invaluable. Read about how he still finds time for solitude in his hobby as a farmer.
Finally, a singer and teacher shares her story of years of frustration with a voice that just wouldn’t do what she wanted. Only after determining to listen to her body and ignore the noise of many doctors’ advice, she discovered a life-threatening physical condition that was also the source for much of her vocal frustration. Not only did she save her voice, she also saved her own life—all because she took the time to listen.
Don’t miss the other terrific articles in this issue. Virginia Zeani, the 2010 Classical Singer Teacher of the Year, discusses her first life as singer and her second life as teacher, which she continues at age 84. Olivia Giovetti shares practical advice for taking and teaching voice lessons on a budget. And Lisa Golda reports on a five-day workshop on the Estill Method of vocal training.
The stark contrast between the ear-splitting alarm and the subsequent silence that day in the Newark Airport has stayed with me. Sometimes the cacophony is necessary to help us tune in with more clarity to the most important messages.
