La Voce

For an artist, the goal is often to communicate one's beliefs and ideas in forms that engage the viewer, and relates to them in that viewer's specific context; the way they see the world, so to speak.  By far the most expressive tool of communication for the singer is the voice, both literally and figuratively.  We cultivate the former through the practice of the voice and its musculature: timbre, pitch, dynamic, breathe.  We seek to make the voice pleasant to the ear, to perhaps emulate those that we admire, and to develop proper technique to ensure longevity of the muscle.

However, how often do we cultivate the latter?  The sense of one's own unique perspective, as reflected in sound?  I find, myself included, that we often forget ourselves in the search of the perfect sound.  We can learn to have the best technique in the world, but if we have no idea where we came from, and what we are trying to communicate, who's compelled to listen to anything we have to say?

I recently listened to a recording of myself.  It was perfectly serviceable, pretty at times, but what struck me was how little of my own personality came through.  I was shocked.  I'd always encouraged my friends to seek out there voice, their passion, and yet here I had so little of my own personality within my singing.  It brought me to the realization that, perhaps, I'd lost my voice in trying so hard to conform to what I thought was the sound I was supposed to produce.

I have lived much of my adult life forming my unique perspective, after having regained my voice after so long.  Not terribly ruffled, quirky, a little odd, loud, gregarious, maybe slightly unsettling, definitely dirty-minded, in love with love....those things I get.  Those things are ME.  Now I have to find out how to include all that back into my voice.  I have a feeling it might be harder than I expect.  Actually, I know it will be harder than I expect.  It always is, and I'd be foolish to think otherwise.  But, I could surprise myself...so perhaps it won't be so hard?  Hmm.  How circuitous.  I'm just excited to finally bring both together into one.  My literal voice: The final frontier.

Fackus!

Say it with me now.  Fackus.  Despite what you think the etymology of the word may be, it comes directly from my diving coach in high school.  His Greek-born father used to scream it at him during practices.  "Chyou needa to fackus!" he would shout from the stands.  The call seemed to help his son find the nerve, ambition, and drive to forge ahead to the next plateau.  It got him through grueling practices.  And it taught him the value of humor within competition and work.  Naturally, he wanted to pass it on to us young, impressionable teenagers.  Right before a dive, while concentrating on the task at hand, a voice would rise up from beside the pool.  "Fackus!"  It might not have helped us with our concentration, but it certainly got us to laugh as we glided into the pool.  Invariably, that became a rallying cry when one of us was having a particularly off day.

There's enormous strength in laughing at yourself as you find your footing and watch yourself flounder.  Think about it.  If you make a big mistake, you have one of two choices.  You could mope, and bemoan the fact that you made the mistake in the first place, or you could laugh, learn, and let it go.  Of course, that's a gross oversimplification, but as Polonius said, "Brevity is the soul of wit."  Therefore, to wit.  

I used to take myself very seriously.  In fact, I think it's this very quality that made me too lazy to do the work, too insecure to push myself, and too prideful to accept constructive criticism at times when I needed it most.  Perhaps I'm being harsh with myself, but sometimes a good thorough taking stock is in order.  So here's a reminder to wipe the poop off, throw the chip off my shoulder, and do what needs to be done.  Laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.  If you've felt that you haven't lived up to your potential because you've gotten in your own way, I give you full permission to get out of the way.  Seriously, get the hell out of the way.  Just stick to the enterprise and off you go.  A clairvoyant once told me to "clear the attic."  At the time it unnerved me, because I knew what she meant, but had no means to do so.  I have those means now.  Hard fought, gainfully won, and heaven sent.  That is a wonderfully gratifying feeling.

To all who have helped me, guided me, and tried to pull it out of me when I couldn't and wouldn't let you, I apologize.  I wasn't ready, and I wasn't trying.  I was simply resting on laurels that weren't there, because I was too lazy and afraid to do the work.  I'm so sorry, but so grateful to you all for everything you have taught me.  You may not feel like I learned it, but I did, though it's taken years of active work, reflection, and perseverance to grasp it.  Thank you.

Now, back to work!