1. On Breathing
A few months after moving to Los Angeles in 2006, I had a really busy month of continuous work and heavy travel on the East Coast which left me extremely fatigued. Through the recommendation of an actress friend, I saw a well-known otolaryngologist in Beverly Hills and was diagnosed with "Overuse of the vocal folds leading to dysphonia" (hoarseness). At the end of the appointment the doctor wrote on a prescription pad: Vocal rest for two weeks + see your vocal coach. He gently walked me to the door and was surprised to see a colleague in the waiting area. He asked if she had a moment to see me and she said she did. I knew serendipity was at play here and I simply followed this person I had just met into an office down the hallway.
The Speech Language Pathologist introduced herself and asked to see the prescription the otolaryngologist had written. I pointed to my throat and she said you will come 3 more times. For the next 30 minutes we took breaths together. Some long, some through the nose; some with her pressing her palms against my upper back; some with me folded in half as if I were to go into a forward roll; some with me inhaling and exhaling as if through a straw. In between, we just took normal breaths and stood in silence. She would move her arms and describe with her body what she needed me to do. I followed.
We didn't speak during those four sessions, and I didn't ask questions. I took breaths and, by the last lesson, vocalized simple exercises, mostly on [u] and primarily long slides, all legato, up and down my range. No explanation was given for the exercises. She demonstrated very little, and she didn't ask for much feedback, as she could tell the body was responding to the vocal rest and was restoring itself to a healthy state. At the end of the two weeks of silence (and my four sessions with the SLP) my voice was back, a bit weak at first, but soon found its way to strength.
For the kind of singing I do in Jazz, I am, at times, so focused on the notes, on the balance of the registers, on the resonance, the lyrics, on the harmony, that I forget to revel on the most magical thing that happens before we make a single sound - the breath. In my lessons and classes, I remind my students that breathing is involuntary, automatic, and will happen well over twenty thousand times a day. That our job as singers is to create good conditions for the inhalation by breathing quietly through an open mouth, and having a strong ribcage that resists the urge to collapse. We want for the drawing of the breath to feel coordinated with the music.
Over the years I have learned that it all starts with a well aligned body. In my own practice and in my lessons, I use the six points of mapping the body suggested by the wonderful book "What Every Singer Needs to Know About the Body" by Melissa Malde, MaryJean Allen, and Kurt-Alexander Zeller. They speak of constantly adjusting your alignment and raising your awareness of those six points - heels, knees, pelvis, belly area, shoulders, and head. There is no fixed posture or position, just a constant flow of intention to stay open, tall, receptive, and aligned, allowing the intercostal and abdominal muscles to support the exhalation and the singing. I am constantly reminded that singing happens on the body, on the breath, and in sometimes in silence.