Greek mythology tells the tale of a highwayman named Procrustes. He preyed upon travelers who were on their way from Attica to Athens. He would invite them to his house and offer them overnight lodgings. Once they accepted, he made them lie down on his iron bed.
Procrustes was a stickler who made sure that his bed fit every person exactly. If the person was too short, Procrustes would stretch them on a rack. If they were too tall, he would cut off portions of their legs until they were exactly the same length as the iron bed. Some of his victims died in the adjustment, but eventually every guest fit Procrustes’ bed!
As the story goes, Theseus eventually killed Procrustes, to general jubilation. The real meaning of this story, however, lies not in the gory details, but in its almost universal allegorical significance. It also offers food for thought to all of us who work with singers.
Example One: A young singer, a traveler on the road, arrives at the studio of a famous teacher who espouses a certain method. That method may have great historic provenance and authority; it may carry the weight and rigidity of an iron bed. The student is made to lie down on the bed, but the fit is just not right. Then the adjustment begins. Some teachers hold fast to a specific method of singing, one that may not be appropriate for every student—but the “bed” is rigid and cannot be altered. By the time the traveler gets up from that bed, often after years of lessons, his or her voice is damaged.
Physicians can fall into the same trap.
Example Two: A patient arrives and gives the doctor her history. He locks onto a preconceived diagnosis, based perhaps on a specific fund of knowledge, recent articles, or just an unconscious inclination. As the history emerges, however, the fit is not quite right. The danger is that the doctor will ignore any information that doesn’t validate his diagnosis, perhaps stretch the patient’s information so that it will fit. The treatment for the patient’s condition may be the wrong one. The ultimate cost may not be as significant as a wrongly trained voice, but may have the singer taking, and paying for, anti-reflux medications for months on end, medications he or she does not need.
Of course, every song, every aria, every opera role is, in a sense, a Procrustean bed. It was written for someone else, perhaps a great singer of the 1800s, and now your student, my patient, must learn to sing it, to lie down on that iron bed. The music may be beautiful, but the range of the piece may lie badly for the individual’s voice, perhaps for the voice in general. Adjustments may be possible (such as transposition, or in opera, taking the last note down instead of up), but most adjustments must come from the performer herself.
The teacher’s task, then, is to make that singer vocally flexible without damage. As physicians, we need to play our part by making the patient somatically aware, generally healthy and resilient, to be able to withstand the demands of a difficult role, or a taxing performance schedule.
The Procrustean analogy falls short in a couple of important ways (and I don’t mean to stretch it!). Many singers do fit either the training method or the medical treatment, or at least fit well enough to give a good approximation of success. Also, the human voice does not have the rigid dimensions of a mythological traveler. Rather, it has tremendous potential flexibility, which good training will develop.
Musical history is full of examples in which performers have told the composer that his work could never be performed as written—and many of these works are now standard repertoire. I certainly don’t mean to imply that every lesson is torture, any more than every medical visit is a failure. A certain amount of vocal stretching is normal, and in fact, is part of what learning is all about. Both vocal instruction and medical treatment boast good basics that work, that fit well, shared universally across both professions. Most singers are taught to sing with a relaxed throat, for example, and many medical problems respond to basic medications and measures such as steaming, gargling, or vocal rest—but not all, for singers or patients!
This is where the brigand Procrustes rears his head again, inviting us to lie down on his bed.
How can we guard against this trap? By being aware of it. By continuing to study, to talk with one another across our professions—and to learn from our students and patients. As our knowledge of vocal anatomy and physiology advances, our collective repertoire and efficacy increases. Therefore it is up to all of us who work with singers to be flexible, to be individualistically sensitive—and be able to adjust the bed to the traveler, not the other way around.
