Author Archives: Emma Ahmed

Nature, sound and silence

I was sent a survey by email today, about music and how the score of wildlife documentaries affect the viewer’s perception of the creatures they are watching.  I almost shouted “Yes!” out loud.  Almost all the wildlife and nature programmes we watch have a human-created soundtrack on top of them and it really affects how we think about the pictures we are seeing.

The survey used out-of-copyright pieces of classical music, which was distracting because they are familiar, unlike the scores we usually hear in these programmes.  However, it certainly highlighted the fact that if you see a shark swimming elegantly along with menacing low strings playing, you think, “Killing machine”, whereas if it had ripply harp arpeggios, you might just enjoy its sinuous beauty.  We are so used to having background music, though, that we don’t always notice it – or that our responses are being affected by it.

I have particularly enjoyed a segment that’s been introduced in Springwatch and Autumnwatch during lockdown – the Mindful Moment.  These are 90-second-long pieces, all exquisitely filmed, but I think they are especially meditative because they only use the sounds of nature rather than imposing a human soundtrack.  The audio is, of course, collected and edited by a human and I’m sure the fish we see jumping may not always be the fish we hear, but the intention is for us to value the sounds that belong to the natural world.  

At the beginning of lockdown, last March, there was an audible reduction in human-made noise.  The natural sounds of birdsong, woodpeckers drumming, and water running were easier to hear and carried further, even in the heart of town.  The qualitative difference in background noise was something to savour on every walk around the park.  I think it’s encouraged me to listen more closely to natural sounds, so that I hear them better even now the background is noisier again.  When you first hear hidden noises, you start to listen out for them, and then they become more obvious.

Much as I love music – and I do – there are times when I do not want to listen to it. If I am outside I like to hear what I am seeing. I like the wind in the trees, the rain on leaves, whether the stream is rushing along full or trickling quietly.  If you look at apps or recordings for relaxation, most of them involve natural sounds.  The sounds themselves are soothing, but if we listen to them while looking and paying attention to whatever makes them the effect is amplified.  Our eyes and ears work together creating sensations that connect us to the natural world;  it takes us out of ourselves and away from our own concerns.

Listening to nature, we have to create a silence and be comfortable in it – no chatting, no rushing, no music. This is not always easy, but it always helps to find a little calm and mental space.

Accessibility and Musical Excellence

There is a big decision to make at the beginning of any group musical activity.  Are you going to audition, or are you going to welcome everyone who feels like coming along?

I’m going to talk about choirs specifically here, though the same values hold for instrumentalists, whether violinists or drummers.

If you audition, you can choose the people who already know what they are doing to some extent.  You get a chance to hear them singing on their own and make a judgment about their voice.  You might want to choose people who can read music, which might open up more complex repertoire.  You can choose people who have sung in a choir before, so they are used to following a conductor, and singing a part that is different from the group two feet away. You run the risk of not attracting enough people who meet your standards, but sometimes people like the challenge of an audition, and the feeling of achievement if they are one of the chosen ones.

However, if you welcome everybody, you will get more people coming along, and you are automatically going to get a more diverse bunch of people.  You are sending the message that singing is for everyone – anyone can do it – and it brings us together. 

There is a risk that by emphasising that there is no audition, and no need to read music, that you will put off people with musical experience.  Some people worry that this means you are not serious about the music, that if a choir allows people with less experience to take part, the quality of what is achieved must be low.

This is simply not true – an audition only tells you what people can do now, and not what they are capable of doing. A choir learning a song together develops every member’s singing.

The skills of being able to remember and sing back a melody, and hold a tune while other people sing a harmony, are learnt by doing. You learn them by being in a choir.  The quality of each person’s voice is unique, and the blend of different voices produces the choral texture we enjoy.  In an “everyone welcome” choir, songs are learnt partly or wholly by ear, although we also use printed music as part of our learning. Interestingly, most auditioned choral societies and chamber choirs offer sound files as well as sheet music these days. These are just means to an end, steps on the journey to making music.

I know for a fact that our choir, with our all-inclusive policy, sings beautifully, with good tone, expression and musicality.  A friend who has only ever sung in auditioned choral societies literally couldn’t believe how good we sounded when she heard our performance at the City Hall in May 2018.  Those results do not come from people being able to read music, or sing a solo. They come from singing, over and over again, listening, refining, and thinking.  It takes time and dedication, and the more each individual sings, the better we sound.

The wonderful Frankie Armstrong said it best, when talking about choirs that welcome everybody,

“It’s not that we don’t have high standards, but we have deep standards.”

SINGING TOGETHER

Last week I mentioned the radio programme Singing Together, and in the BBC Archive I discovered a feature Jarvis Cocker made about it.  With apologies to Jarvis, much of this post is stolen directly from his broadcast. 

Singing Together started in 1939.  It was put together as the evacuation of schoolchildren started on the 1st of September and the first programme aired on the 25th of September. I found the wartime accounts very touching.

Here’s a quote from Brenda Jenkins, a young teacher from Ilford who was sent to teach evacuees in Mansfield.  

“Some of them, I’m afraid, were very sad. They had contagious diseases, I would have to take them to the doctors, and they were very little to be away from their parents…  Singing Always Helps… It didn’t matter if you sang well or not, nobody cared, nobody noticed, because you were singing together.  Boys could sing as loudly as they liked.”

The selection of songs followed simple rules: each programme should have a song with a beautiful melody, a song with a rousing chorus, and a nonsense song.  I love this precise definition of songs that are fun to sing.

The first presenter was Herbert Wiseman, a Scot. 

“From 1939-1946 I was privileged to teach new songs, not just to children but to mothers. Mothers, I’m afraid, deserted their Monday morning washtubs to join us. I’m still touched to meet, from Caithness to the Isle of Wight, from Newcastle to Ballymena, some of these mothers who remember singing with us.”

The war disrupted social groups and families.  Schools would suddenly have people missing, or new people arriving. You can feel alone in a group, but even when you don’t know the other people, singing together creates a team spirit. Ask any football crowd.

The programmes were very popular but the BBC top brass were snooty about them:

“A very jolly social occasion but can hardly be considered musical training”.  They were even described as “an obstacle to more extensive musical training”.

The aims of the programme were not to learn formal musical terminology (which is often what people mean by musical education) but to encourage children to sing together and increase their repertory of songs.  Musical instructions were very simple (try not to shout). 

Teachers noted that “children developed rapidly in the art of picking up a tune.”  What is that if it’s not musical education?  The more you listen and sing along, the better you get at remembering the shape of a tune, and the faster you will learn new tunes.  Generations of children learned songs they remembered for the rest of their lives.

Singing together is a powerful shared experience and we are missing it greatly at the moment.  We are all isolated in our own houses. We are fortunate to have access to a huge variety of recorded music on our different devices.  It’s very easy to sing along to music as an individual in 2021, but it’s nothing like singing with other people.

Projects like our own Indoorus Chorus and Opera North’s Couch to Chorus offer the nearest thing we can to singing together.  It’s a live event. We are all singing the same songs at the same time, joining in with recorded voices.  Perhaps it’s not that different from those little evacuees sitting in a school hall far away from home, with dozens of strangers. Or their mothers, back in the city, neglecting their Monday wash to sing along with their faraway child.

Singing Always Helps.

The Worst Trip

We’ve been singing “The Sloop John B” this term.  This is a song I first learnt at school, from one of those wonderful Singing Together collections, published by the BBC and linked to a radio programme, though at our school we never listened to the radio.  I don’t know if it was just the booklets that we had in stock, but I remember there being an awful lot of seafaring songs – The Mermaid, Shenandoah, and this one for a start.  

It’s one of those songs in which the music seems to flatly contradict the content of the lyrics. It’s jolly and rollicking and upbeat. It’s in a cheerful major key and swings along merrily. Meanwhile, we are hearing in the lyrics how “This is the worst trip I’ve ever been on.”  

Coincidentally, I’ve been reading The Worst Journey in the World.  This is the story of Scott’s Antarctic expedition of 1910-13, written by Apsley Cherry-Garrard, one of the youngest people in the crew.  The conditions they endured are almost unimaginable, with temperatures down to -77°F, chasm-like crevasses, howling winds that sound like an express train going through a tunnel for days on end.  Their food is a mixture of pemmican, biscuit and cocoa, although at the point I’ve reached they are having to kill their ponies and are eating the meat.  In 1911 they knew that lime juice prevented scurvy, but they did not know about vitamins or that you had to take them daily – they thought scurvy was some kind of bacterial infection, made worse by too little sleep. Why am I enjoying this book?

Telling tales of the trips you’ve been on is both enjoyable and entertaining.  How it rained every day, and how terrible the food was at that particular pub, and how rude the landlord at the B&B, are the really memorable bits. We survived!  Now that you are telling it in a nice warm space, with friends and a drink, it enhances all the things you might take for granted – like a roof, a warm bed, and enough to eat.  It gives you a warm glow to look back and see how you got through situations that were physically and mentally exhausting.

That’s where the major key comes in. That’s why it doesn’t seem inappropriate to have a cheerful, upbeat tune when you’re singing about awful times. The music adds a layer of depth to the lyrics. It reminds you that your horrible experience is now something you can put in a box and confine to the past, with relief and gratitude.  

Running and Singing

My husband has always been sporty. In the 30 years I’ve known him, he graduated from 10-mile runs to marathons and then ultras up to 53 miles in one day.  He still runs regularly but doesn’t do more than a half-marathon now. He suggested a couple of times that I might try it and I laughed hollowly. I was always rubbish at PE, I couldn’t do anything quickly, and it didn’t appeal to me at all.

Then, when I was 53, I started running.  I was feeling low and tired, menopausal and not-quite-right. Several friends kept telling me how much they enjoyed running and I thought I’d give the Couch to 5K thing a go.  I never expected much, I just decided to do it.  I thought it wouldn’t do any harm.  After a month, I had to stop because I had eye surgery and was unaccountably annoyed. I started the programme again as soon I was allowed to, and did my first park run within three months.  Guess what? I love running.  I really, really enjoy it – not just the feeling afterwards, though that’s nice too.

The parallels between singing and running are many.

  • To move from walking to running, or from talking to singing, start gently and keep going. The more you do it, the more comfortable you will get.
  • Running can be fun, and good for you, even if you are never going to run very far or very fast.
  • Singing’s the same – everyone can enjoy it and benefit from it without ever wanting to be Shirley Bassey.
  • Both activities can be a source of joy that is slightly addictive.  They involve a physical effort that stretches your body and engages your emotions too.
  • They both use your whole body – running is not just about your legs, just as singing is not just about your mouth.  You control your breath and engage your core,.
  • You don’t need much equipment for running, and you can do it almost anywhere. Singing takes this to a new level, since you don’t even need special shoes and a sports bra.

The parallel that strikes me most strongly, however, is the habit of resistance.  For years and years I would respond to any suggestion of running with an automatic refusal. “Oh, running’s not for me. I’m hopeless. I can’t do anything fast. You won’t get me running for pleasure.”  And yet, I really enjoy it now.  I miss it when I’m injured or too busy.

All those people who say, “Oh, I can’t sing. You wouldn’t want me in your choir,” have just developed a reflex response.  It might well be, like my whole-hearted belief that I could never run or do anything sporty, rooted in our school days when teachers seemed particularly keen on sorting out sheep from goats in the Music and PE departments.

To them I would say, just give it a go.  You might be surprised at what you get out of it.

Making Friends with Your Voice – Part 2

If you would like to try getting better at singing in the privacy of your own home, here are a few tips to get you started.

Warming up

Singing involves using a wider range and a more intense vibration than talking, so it is always a good idea to warm up your vocal cords before singing.  This doesn’t need to take long.  Literally 30 seconds of stretching and a minute of vocal noises will make a big difference.  Stretch your neck, shoulders, ribcage, and face.   Start to hum low down in your voice and slide upwards. Do a lip-trill – this is a highly effective warming-up device.  This is the motorcycle/ outboard motor/ tired horse sound, which makes you increase your airflow and loosen your lips.  These exercises protect your vocal folds (vocal cords) because you have your mouth shut.

Pitch

Pitch, in its musical sense, means which notes we sing, the shape of the melody. 

You could imagine pitch as a pitched roof – a continuous slope going up or down / \. This is like the slidey noises we practise in our warmups.  When we move on to singing melodies, we choose specific steps on the slope, which are the doh-re-mi or numbers 1-8 in the scales we sing.  We can label them with letter-names, too – C, D, E flat and so forth.

When you sing exactly what I sing, you are in tune. You need to be able to hear the note and reproduce it with your own voice, and this takes time and practice.  The two essential elements are listening and singing – one without the other won’t do. If you just listen and don’t open your mouth, you won’t learn how your voice feels singing different notes.  If you sing without listening, your confidence may grow but you won’t know if you are matching what you hear.

Sometimes you can be in tune with yourself but not with the other people in the room, because you have just started on a different note.  This is the most frequent performing disaster we have in choir!  Sometimes people can’t hear the starting notes correctly because it’s noisy, or they are nervous and not concentrating. 

One of the most helpful things you can do is listen to your own voice without wincing.  Listen to the first line of a song on a recording. Then sing along with it. Switch off the recording and sing it on your own. Rather than dramatically saying, “Oh I’m terrible!” try to detach the emotion and say specifically what you would like to change.  Is it wobbly? Try pushing more air through. You might need to take an extra breath but do you like the sound better? Can you hear that your notes are not the same as what you are hearing?  Go back to the first note. Listen. Sing. Go lower or higher until you feel you are matching it.  

(Sometimes it’s just too high or low for your voice and you should try a different song.)

Without feedback, it’s hard to know if you are getting it right or not, and I really feel for you here.  It is difficult for me not being able to hear you and know how you are getting on.  Please be honest in online rehearsals if you haven’t got it and want to do a section again.  If we were singing in real life we would go over it until I felt it was really secure.

Life Mask

When the senses come back in the morning,
the nose is a mouth full of spring:
the mouth is an earful of birdsong;
the eyes are lips on the camomile lawn;
the ear is an eye of calm blue sky.

When the broken heart begins to mind,
the heart is a bird with a tender wing, 
the tears are pear blossom blossoming,
the shaken love grows green shining leaves, 
the throat doesn’t close, it is opening

like a long necked swan in the morning, 
like the sea and the river meeting, 
like the huge heron’s soaring wings:
I sat up with my pale face in my hands
And all of a sudden it was spring.

Jackie Kay

This lovely poem was read by Mel at our Virtual Burns’ Night last week, and I thought everybody should have a chance to share it.

Making Friends with Your Voice – 1

One of the reasons people like singing in a choir is that they don’t hear their voice on its own.  Many singers like to be reassured that I will never ask them to sing a solo.  

The sound of a choir is always greater than the sum of its parts.  This is part of the special sensual experience we are missing so much at the moment.  

One of the challenges of singing over a video link is that we are all singing on our own.  Each singer can only hear themselves and the sound file, and sometimes me as well.  This can be unnerving, like hearing your own voice on an answerphone message, and some people find they are too self-conscious to enjoy it at all.

This week I’ll talk in general terms getting more comfortable with the sound of your own voice.  Next week I’ll move on to some specific tips to help you get a sound you like.

Be Brave

If you don’t like your voice, you are likely to sing timidly.  But if you sing with fear, your voice will not sound its best. Poor airflow will make it wobbly. Apologetic body language – hunched shoulders, for instance, – will inhibit your singing.  So stand tall, relax your shoulders, and take a breath right into your centre. Call for your dog as though it is across the park. (You can use any dog: alive, departed or purely imaginary.)  Capture this quality of sound, its loudness and strength, and sing the two words, “Hey, Jude”.  How was that? Pretty good, I bet.  Try it on another song.

Selection Box

We can all do different voices.  Teachers will be aware that they have a teacher voice that they rarely use with their partner.  Do you use a special voice when you talk to the dog?  We can choose to sing in different ways, too. People will sing Happy Birthday in a different voice from “Come on you Blades”.  If you are brave enough to try a few voices, you will realise you can choose the one you like best.

Imagine you are on Stars in Their Eyes. Tonight you are… someone whose singing you really like. 

When I sing a line for you to copy, take a breath and sing it in your chosen singer’s voice.  How does that feel?  

Your voice

Your voice is uniquely yours – but it can and will change. You are not stuck with it like the colour of your eyes. It is affected by the size and shape of parts of your body – your larynx, your tongue, and your teeth, for a start.  You don’t have any control over these.  It’s also affected by things you can control – like hydration and lack of sleep. Beyond that, you can always improve your singing by listening and singing – and the two have to go hand in hand.

Remember, your voice is worthwhile. You have a right to sing, and a right to be heard. 

Therapy or Not Therapy?

I help people to make music. That’s my job. I teach and encourage, facilitate and listen, while people find the music inside themselves and discover how to express it.  

Sometimes I work with individuals, and sometimes I work with groups. Some of the people I work with have a label of learning disability or autism and some of them don’t.  When I describe what I do with Under the Stars, I often hear “Oh, so it’s music therapy then?” 

Well, no, it’s not.

Music therapy is a certificated profession and I do not have the training or the qualifications. Therapists work mostly one to one, very much led by the person they are working with, and they don’t work towards “products” like performances or recordings. Music therapy is brilliant, but it’s not what I do.

Music is good for you.  Music lifts your spirit, gets you moving physically and breathing a bit harder, using your brain, concentrating so that you can’t worry about whatever you’re anxious about, and helps you express things when words won’t do. Playing and singing with other people gives you a sense of connection that is hard to beat and a joy that helps you find your smile.  This applies to everyone, whether they have a label or not.  

When we have a band session with the musicians at Under the Stars, everyone is developing musical skills.  One person might learn guitar chords or how to play a drum pattern, another will be learning the words to a song or writing a new one. It’s work, and it’s fun.  Some people have a very good sense of rhythm and some struggle.  Some find it easier to sing in tune than others, as in any group. If we have a group with support workers joining in, they often find they are less able than some of the learners. 

In my community choirs, everyone is welcome.  I happen to know that, over the years, some singers have had bereavements, mental health episodes, relationship issues and life-changing illnesses.  I only know this if they have chosen to tell me – and they tell me because choir has helped them through.  A person might choose to join a choir to improve their memory, or start piano lessons to give their week more structure, keeping depression at bay. Music can help with all these things, and it is just a good thing in its own right.

What I offer is an opportunity to learn music, to play or sing something to a standard that makes you happy. Along the way there may be lots of fringe benefits: self-esteem, learning to take turns, or better fine motor skills.

Just because I’m working with someone with a label of learning disability or autism, doesn’t mean that it’s “therapeutic”. In the same way, just because I’m teaching someone who hasn’t got a label, does not mean that it’s not.

Health, hope and happiness

This is my wish for us all in 2021.

In March last year, I would not have believed that we would still be unable to have our normal choir rehearsals after ten months. I remember hearing at the beginning of lockdown about an organisation putting their sessions on hold for 12 weeks and thought it was excessive. A way of living that seemed unimaginable has become the norm. We are fearful of touching people, which is sad. I watch TV and almost wince at the casual handshakes and hugs we used to take for granted.

I am grateful for many things, not least that I live with someone I really like, and our house is big enough for us to work in separate rooms. Our youngest child was here from March to July, struggling with trying to do drama school online and missing her friends but we didn’t have to cope with young children at home. (From July to September her boyfriend joined our bubble and we were a happy foursome.)

We have a fantastic park on our doorstep and woods nearby, so we can walk or run from the door and see greenery and hear birds. The elderly relations we cannot visit are healthy and well cared for.

When I heard people saying, a few weeks ago, “I can’t wait for 2020 to be over”, I felt uneasy. It was as though the troubles of the past months were the calendar’s fault. Once the number of the year changed, everything would get better. We were hanging our hopes on “next year” being the time when we could return to a more familiar way of life. But of course it doesn’t work like that. January 2021 is just the week after December 2020, and the hoped-for changes, like the vaccine, will take time to happen.

The only way to live through 2021 is one day at a time. We need to look after our own health, eating right and sleeping plenty, spending some time outside every day. It’s important to try and connect with other people, however we can, and not get stuck in our own heads. Try to be optimistic. It’s very difficult not having the usual milestones of holidays and celebrations to look forward to, but Spring will come and babies will be born and puppies will be adorably naughty.

Music can help us weather the storms. Whether you listen to Debussy or Daft Punk, music fills your head. Let your body feel the music and move about. Don’t be shy about singing along. Much of the music we love brings memories of other times in our lives, and the people we knew then, which is another dimension of enjoyment.

Why not try learning to sing a song you love? It’s easy to find lyrics for almost anything on the internet. (I have to warn you that you almost NEVER know the song as well as you thought you did!) Or you could revisit songs you’ve enjoyed singing in choir.

What about writing your own song? If you’re not confident about making up a new tune, use a tune you already know.

Whatever 2021 has in store, I wish you peace and harmony.