Karen's message made me smile. She wrote that she's
too much of a perfectionist to enjoy listening to her
taped lessons, since she hears every flaw in her own
voice.
I have to say that I'm quite unashamed about my lesson
tapes. I listen to them all the time -- and relish
them. I love my own voice. Every lesson, there is
some new, surprising sound that I am delighted with.
I even relish the flaws, since I can study and replay
and hear where they SHOULD go even when they go splat.
I have learned to like my "true" sound, and there is
more and more of it in every tape. I'm not saying
there aren't lessons when I don't want to pitch the
tape across the room, but more of the good sounds are
emerging the harder I study. Also, I have found that,
while you can't actually SING for six hours a day, you
can *think* yourself singing while listening -- I
either "feel" what I was doing right, or "feel" what I
should have done differently -- and it really seems to
help. I count my "active listening" as part of my
mental-practice time, along with translating and
reading Vocalist and listening to CDs of other
singers.
For instance, during yesterday's lesson, we worked
through Mi chiamano Mimi, then Ernani involami, then
Schubert's Du bist die Ruh, then Violetta's Addio del
passato. I take 90-minute lessons, remember. The
Mimi taught me that I enjoy my phrasing and that my
B's are beginning to blossom the way I want, and after
hearing them the third time this morning, I
sympathetically *feel* where I want to put them. It
was just a pleasant aria to listen to, and I only
splatted "il profumo d'un fior" with regularity; the
rest we worked out. It's an easy song to get through,
so I am concentrating on phrasing, climax, il profumo,
and exactly what a "Puccini portamento" should sound
like (I have more honking swoops and funny glissandos
than graceful portamenti at the moment).
The Ernani is my best piece right now, and was just
fun to listen to -- really, I take a shameless delight
in hearing myself doing things right. I wonder if
this means I have rampant diva-ego?
The Du bist die Ruh is a new piece, and I was
delighted when some of the notes just popped out,
sweet and free (although there were many more that had
picked up tension in the climing lines at the end --
stepwise processions to A's always choke me, like in
Porgi and Sul fil). Plus, I had one great A after a
dozen or so thin ones. I live for that great A.
Then the Violetta... is too big for me, too low and
"fat" and rich for where I am right now -- but even
that was interesting, because first we worked it,
line-by-line, and then I sang straight through it
"correctly" (with my bright, early-Verdi laser
technique) and then my teacher let me sing it the way
the music WANTED to be sung, pulling and leaning and
round and full -- and it was fascinating even in its
wrongness. It taught me to wait until my voice fills
out more, probably sometime in my 30s, before sinking
luxuriously into fullness like that.
How unabashed it seems to be saying this. I always
liked Leontyne Price's quote when Hines asked her who
her favorite singer was -- she said herself! But
really, I've been listening to 90 minutes of myself
three times a week for six years, so I think I've
grown fond of it out of necessity.
Isabelle B.
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Isabelle Bracamonte
San Francisco, CA
ibracamonte@y...
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