The big throat. It�s not what you think.
9:56 p.m.
In honour of the saint�s day I wore my long red woolen skirt and red princess-neck pullover, completing the look with red lipstick. I noticed many others sporting crimson and scarlet as well, but none as flamboyantly as I.
You know, I am a good singing teacher. I really am. One of my girls, a large young woman, tall, solidly built, with a doll�s face and a corresponding small mouth, is really a soprano. The shape of her face, the timbre, all scream soprano. But her voice is weak, breathy, especially as she gets to the top of the staff and above. She�s a soprano, yes, but even though her spirit may be willing, her voice is weak. I finally realized that something had to be done.
This past fall I told her quite frankly that we couldn�t continue to train her as a soprano because it just wasn�t working. She agreed but was understandably concerned about what we could do with her. I introduced to her the concept of what I call the �big throat�, creating an enormous space at the back of the mouth by raising the soft palate, keeping the tongue low and consciously pulling the soft tissue back against the neck, the kind of space that is created naturally at the apex of a yawn. Today I was rewarded, or rather she was rewarded, by the consistent use of this technique. Suddenly there is a richness to her sound that was heretofore lacking, a maturity that wasn�t there before. It�s as though she�s gone to the store and bought a new instrument. Hallelujah!
After choir today I stopped to chat with the soprano who was sitting next to me, a student of my colleague. She had sung in the jazz masterclass on Saturday afternoon and had had a rather misfortunate experience. She brought the piece she sang to her teacher who told her that she should find it in a higher key. So she did that. She rehearsed it with a pianist, but when she arrived in the concert hall was informed that Matt would be accompanying her on guitar. She had never sung with guitar before, did not know what to listen for, and was completely off key, a whole semi-tone flat. It was excruciating. The visiting artist asked her why she was singing it in such a high key, and she answered that her teacher had told her to. The artist suggested she lower it, and the poor girl was on the verge of tears. It was painfully uncomfortable to watch. I reassured her that just because she had one bad masterclass experience, they were not all like that. She thanked me for talking about it with her, saying that no one else had said anything, to which I replied that they were probably embarrassed. She said she was also embarrassed, and I answered, �Embarrassment need not be suffered in solitude.� Then I gave her a big hug, and everything was all right again.
It snowed today, beautiful soft fluffy flakes that swirl around your boots when you wade through it, collect on your eyelashes and in your hair, and gently blanket everything with pristine sparkly whiteness. I love it when it�s like that. Unfortunately it means that the driveway will have to be shoveled tomorrow, and I don�t know if my menfolk will be up to it after coming home late tonight from BurIington VT. I�m waiting for Hubby�s call, the one he promised he would make when they were leaving the airport for the long drive home. I hope he calls soon. I hate worrying about him.
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