How many voices do I have?

Each of us has at least 3 separate voices. And I'm not talking about the voices in your head, or the voices that tell you to not have that extra serving of lasagna. I'm talking about singing voices. But even calling them voices can be misleading. Some teachers prefer the term "registers." It all depends on who you talk to and who they studied with, and which side of the bed they got out of this morning. Which all boils down to: "It's complicated."

So what exactly am I talking about? Listen to "What's Up" by "4 Not-Blondes."

 Do you hear how full and rich her voice is   through most of the song? But then, at 1:01,  1:05, 1:15, 1:20 (I'm seeing a pattern) hear what happens. Do you hear how it almost sounds like someone else singing? (I love her hats, they are so cool!)

 She starts out singing in her chest voice. We call it that because it feels like it is resonating in the chest. But then, for just a note or two, it almost sounds like a little girl singing. She's gone into her head voice, so called because it feels like it's resonating in the head. Between the two extremes is the middle voice. It tends to feel like it's in your throat, where you would think that we want the voice to always be, but you'd be wrong. 

Some more examples of the different qualities of the voices:

Jewel yodeling (you don't need to watch more than a few seconds, unless you're a glutton for punishment).  Why am I making you listen to yodeling? Let me refer you to Wikipedia again: Yodeling,yodelling,jodeling) is a form of singing that involves singing an extended note which rapidly and repeatedly changes in pitch from the vocal or chest register(or "chest voice") to the head register; making a high-low-high-low sound. The English wordyodel is derived from a German word jodeln(originally Austro-Bavarian language) meaning "to utter the syllablejo" (pronounced "yo" in English). This vocal technique is used in many cultures throughout the world. (And I am not the only person to not be enthralled with the art form. Sir Walter Scott wrote in his June 4, 1830 journal entry that "Anne wants me to go hear the Tyrolese Minstrels but...I cannot but think their yodeling...is a variation upon the tones of a jackass.

 Cranberries - Zombie:  first at 1:20 on the first syllable of "Fighting" (Gold dress does nothing for her, but I love the chain wig! - it's probably wrong to critique fashion on a really very serious song…)

 This abrupt switch from chest to head voices is what gives yodeling its characteristic sound, it an important part of Celtic music (hence the Cranberries song - plus, my husband loves that one). It's also a part of the music of many other cultures. Since much of my training has been to bridge the expanses of my voice seamlessly, I find the obvious differences in tone annoying. And, since classical Western training endeavors to do that, we will assume that you want to do the same, and not sound like any of these examples.

The chest voice has some admirable qualities. As you can hear in 4 Non-Blondes, it has volume and richness. The head voice has lightness and an almost angelic sound. (Are you tired of videos yet? Hopefully not, because here's one more: the Von Trapp Children singing.  In Carol of the Bells - the first song, everything is sung in lovely, pure head tones. You can hear hints of the breathy quality to their amplified voices. They are light, angelic: it really is lovely. Then, at 1:33, as they are beginning Doe, a deer, (I kid you not - they sing Doe, a deer!) the soloist gives us our first hint of chest voice. She is also the oldest looking of the 4. But it is a lovely young voice, smooth from the bottom all the way to the top. You can hear the richness of her voice, and it sounds far less breathy than the others'.

So, the trick is to keep the richness of the chest, while also keeping the ringing, angelic quality of the head. The first step is often to find all of those voices in you. Just about everyone manages to find their mid-range. Many untrained singers find the chest voice pretty easily. The head range is often the tricky one. (Although many young sopranos are frightened of what they think of as the rough qualities of the chest. Each voice is different. Not good or bad, just different.)

Then it becomes a matter of learning where each and every single note should fall: in your voice and in each and every single song. How much depth to carry up from the chest into the highest notes, and how much of the ringing head tones to carry down into the lowest, deepest notes you are capable of. And this will differ in each song, every day. It can be affected by how much sleep you got the night before, the pollen count, the relative humidity, you name it, it can probably affect your voice. (Does that sound mind-bogglingly difficult? With practice, it becomes so automatic that you don't even think about it.)

There is a diagram that gets used a lot. I call it the hourglass. If we put the head voice at the top of the diagram and the chest voice at the bottom, you have a visual of what we're trying to accomplish. Without this concept, you end up with what is called a break in the voice, when you just cannot carry up anymore weight or carry down anymore of the lightness.

My mother had an analogy that always made sense to me. (Sorry - but it went with a story) When she was a student teacher, they went on a field trip from her school in Louisville, KY, to New York City. (Quite the field trip - right?) She went shopping in Saks 5^th Avenue, and bought everyone back home a gift. Paperweights. About 2 dozen of them. 
(Maybe like this)

After shopping, they all went to the Empire State Building, where they found that the elevators were out of order, and they had to walk up all the stairs: all 1860 of them. It wasn't long before she was wishing she hadn't gotten all those paperweights. She was wishing that she could leave a trail of paperweights on the stairs, kind of like Hansel & Gretel leaving a trail of breadcrumbs, waiting for her to pick up again on her way back down. Sometimes I still think about leaving paperweights behind when I'm trying to lighten up my voice for a particular passage.

Have you gotten the idea that this is not necessarily easy? Good. Can it be fun? Yes! Should you go it alone? No. You can really do some damage to yourself, depending on your age, experience and health. For example: I never do much with the chest when I'm working with kids before they hit puberty. Their voices, just like their bodies, are undergoing so many changes that it's just not a good idea to push either end of the voice (chest or head). Do I teach kids before puberty? Yes. I'm just very careful of what we do. But, this is still just a part of why I liken vocal training to an adventure.

Next week: Support!