Singing for others never seemed likely; it was enough to learn, improve and pass on to another song. Subconsciously I accepted that starting from scratch at eighty wouldn’t leave me enough time to entertain an audience, always assuming I had an ounce of natural ability.Some time ago I posted recordings at others’ urgings. Responses varied from lukewarm politeness to (more often) silence, confirming my suspicions. In any case such exposure was premature. Several basic requirements (notably a voice that was demonstrably my own) hadn’t yet been met.
I sing far better now but still as a student. V dispenses approval carefully: I need encouragement but praise must be precisely and technically worded. I’m a retired wordsmith and alert to what I regard as insincerity. Recently we had two fabulous lessons and the exhilaration, on both sides of the piano, was authentic. Coincidentally three blogging friends then asked me to post recordings. But I still can’t be sure there’s any transmitted pleasure in what I do.
Here are four songs, sung and re-sung for the hard disc, graded according to musical ambition.
Der Lindenbaum, from Schubert’s Winterreise song cycle. Elegant melody in narrow dynamic range. Suitable for advanced warm-up (but without the gruff one-bar fall-out).
I will give my love an apple. More staccato, slightly faster, folksy, a change of pace.
Time stands still. Sublime Dowland; seemingly easier on the singer and thus full of less obvious traps.
An evening hymn. Early English masterpiece by Purcell. Way beyond my abilities and I fear my tempo is uncertain. The Hallelujahs, as you may imagine, present many problems; had to cut out final ones. Very much work in progress.
Three in English, unusual for me. I prefer singing in German. I can’t deny that snobbishness plays a part in pretending to be a musical executant.
NOTE V's house is remote and I couldn't use my phone to play these recordings at my lesson yesterday, so I sang them. This was salutary:
(1) I do not have the score for Der Lindenbaum (it's coming shortly as a birthday present). V pointed out that the third verse, starting "Ich musst' auch heute wanderns..." switches to a minor key on the piano, before switching back again. Whoops!
(2) Apple. The two words "love a" in the second line ("I will give my love a house, etc) take the same note but UP not down. This despite the fact that I do have this score.
Just in case you noticed.
I like the top 3.....amazing improvement....you seem to maintain "relative pitch" now, whereas you were all over the map previously. And yes, your voice seems less contrived...and happier!
ReplyDeleteI have no musical training or critical nomenclature to use. However, I listened to them all twice and enjoyed your singing very much. I would have to say I liked "I will give my love an apple" the most. I was delighted to hear An evening hymn after your recent post described it. I admire your abilities and your passion for this art form. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteI appreciated the clarity, richness and depth of your voice. I particularly enjoyed the Hallelujahs in Purcell's Evening Hymn. My favourite was the Der Lindenbaum which I am going to listen to again, now.
ReplyDeleteEdsbath: You've recorded yourself, I wonder if you went through the same palaver. How many times before you were satisfied? Or half satisfied? Wishing (like me) you could be singing in the kitchen where the acoustic is hard and resonant but unwilling to disconnect the desktop and set it up down there? Learning more about the song? Having checked the recordings through proper hi-fi earphones and then finding them less satisfactory through the computer loudspeakers (eg, the first verse of Apple seemed uniformly flat; not the second verse). Knowing there was a better state of voice which would allow a quieter more relaxed delivery; knowing, alas, that it's still a sometime thing.
ReplyDeleteNever mind. I appreciate what you've said since your experiences date back to the "premature" period, you've known me far far worse. "Contrived" is a perfect adjective for the time when my voice could only imitate, not create. V worked very hard to get me out of that Slough of Despond ("You're using that dark voice again.") but in the end only the singer can do it, and on the basis of verbal instruction that inevitably falls somewhat short of what's needed. Nevertheless she knew what to say when it happened:
There, that's what you've been looking for. Your voice. And it's lovely.
Finally I could start taking myself seriously.
Colette: I wasn't looking for jargon. Singing is intended to cause pleasure and I needed just the faintest of hints that that might happen. Glad you liked Apple. I've been singing it for nearly two years. During the recording session I must have sung it another dozen and a half times before I had a version I could reluctantly release to the outside word.
Just to let you into a trade secret. The difficult bit is where it goes highish ("I would build my love a palace wherein...") and the trick is to remove the sense of strain. Now I've told you, listen to that bit again and you'll be able to hear that the strain is still there, albeit much reduced. Recognise that and you'll be totally equipped for a new career as a technical music critic.
Kay: Estate agents in the UK have a phrase "deceptively spacious"; no one knows exactly what it means: big or small? On the same basis Lindenbaum could be described as "deceptively simple." There are no difficult highs or lows, you're on the beat and the German has no tongue twisters. Easy meat you tell yourself. But the more you sing it (and it's lovely to sing) the more you find yourself craving perfectability. I could easily have sung it (and deleted it) fifty times without being satisfied.
I fear I didn't sing all the Hallelujahs in Evening Hymn. They get progressively more difficult and longer. Listen out for the moments when I desperately suck in breath. This is in no sense the finished article and I may never master those Hallelujahs. But I'll persist because it is not only fiendishly difficult it is also worthwhile. Sung perfectly (eg, Emma Kirkby on YouTube) it is self-evidently a masterpiece. Thank you for your auditory efforts.
To my uneducated ear, Time Stood Still was best of the four selections, even though I've never heard any of these songs, so take what I write with a grain of salt.
ReplyDeleteWith Time Stood Still, it seemed your pacing and breathing were more in sync, smoother. You sounded more in control of your voice.
I'm going to listen again tomorrow morning, when there isn't a rainstorm barrelling through the neighborhood (I hope!)
Crow: There is no tempo instruction (Lento, Allegro, etc) for Time Stands Still but it's generally presumed to be slow, even very slow. If the performances in YouTube are anything to go by, it's not a song favoured by men. V has sung it in concerts (her markings are on the score I use: "Keep the stillness" is one), she chose it, and after some slight worries about sustained notes, it became one of my favourites. I've certainly sung it, with V and alone at home, fifty times, perhaps a hundred.
ReplyDeleteIt's often difficult to judge a song on first hearing, and thus say whether it offers any pleasure. On top of this both Time and Hymn belong to a distant era about four hundred years ago; the sentiments, language and the musical style may all be alien to you. When I was introduced to both these songs - about eighteen months apart - I wondered if I'd overstepped the mark, that I wouldn't be able to grasp them. Now both are part of my lifeblood. I should emphasise that Hymn is far from finished - it is extremely difficult and listening several times to this recording revealed another problem I was previously unaware of; I am nowhere near integrating the wide variations in rhythm and cadence throughout the song.
Lindenbaum (the easiest of the four) is of course in German. Here's a translation that may help. The translator is a Japanese woman Tomoko Yamamoto who sings soprano and is also a composer.
At the well before the gate
There stands a linden tree.
I dreamed in its shade
Many sweet dreams.
I cut in its bark
So many words of love;
In joy and sorrow.
I was always drawn to it.
I must travel on foot today
by the tree late at night.
Even though it was dark
I closed my eyes.
And the branches rustled
as if they were calling me
Come here young man
Here you find your rest.
There are two other verses in an entirely different style, reflecting a move away from tranquillity. These I ignored. Thanks for listening. I'm pleased that you think I didn't let down Time. It's a vital part of who I am - I sing it when I feel full of myself.