My favourite quote of all times on singing comes from Stephen Sondheim: “If I cannot fly, let me sing.” Can you relate to that? I sometimes get this feeling of flying, or soaring above the ground, from singing. Our voice is the only physical part of us we can project from the place where we are standing. If I think about what it is, and what it means to sing, I get so overwhelmed I don’t know where to start… Can you relate to that too?

Singing is pure magic. And on the other hand, it’s such a basic, normal thing to do. It comes natural to children, and they will sing until they are told to shut up and then they will sing less and less until they forget how to do it. And then maybe when they grow up they will want to start singing again, and they will have to learn it all over from scratch.

Over my 16 years’ experience as a singing teacher so far, I have observed that people want singing lessons for two different reasons mainly. Some want to improve their skills, no matter what level they are at; from beginners to pros, they have set certain goals for themselves and they’re looking for help to attain them. And some — both consciously or unconsciously — want to use singing as a means of getting to know themselves better, of gaining confidence in life, of overcoming fear and self-doubt, of resolving some physical or psychological issue. I always say that

singing is an approach manoeuvre to bring us closer to our soul.

I’m sure the same could be said about dancing or acting or playing an instrument as well. That’s true for all those activities where we use our body and our emotions to create worlds in front of other people in real time. Or even about composing and writing and the visual arts, where the real time factor is usually less of a feature, but the end result and purpose are the same.

As an artist, you expose yourself to other people’s opinions and judgement in an incredibly direct way. You do crazy things and bust your heart to be as good, as touching, as aesthetic, as convincing as you can and while doing that, you put yourself in an extremely vulnerable position. As an artist, you know that it’s impossible to please everyone. Some will adore you, some will hate you, plus another thousand nuances in between. But, as an artist, you are on a mission and you will do whatever it takes to get your message across. Your critics and your competitors may be fierce, but oftentimes your worst enemy is not out there in the audience, it’s in here in your mind. The dedication and the guts it takes to overcome all of that are unimaginable for most people…

That’s not for the faint of heart!

When we sing (or dance, or play, or act) in public, we are basically telling everyone that what they’re going to experience is worth their attention, their silence, their time and their money. We’re promising them an experience, something they will talk about and remember. We’re promising to give them goosebumps, to make them laugh, cry, think, to move and delight them… and that’s no small responsibility.

Singing in public is a complex task but also a privilege. We have both the tools of a musician and the ones of an actor at our disposal. Our whole body is our instrument, air flows through it and is transformed into sound and then the sound carries the word. That’s as personal, as unique as it gets. There is so much of the person in the act of singing, both on a physical level and on an intellectual level. To that, I like adding the soul level, that which will make your singing totally different from mine and from everyone else’s, even if we should sing the same piece and have the same singing technique and very similar voices. When we let all of our personality, of our experience, of our emotions, all of who we really are enter our singing, that’s when we are taking it to the level of magic. That’s the scariest bit, but the most rewarding one too. And that’s what people really respond to and feel the most in a performance. The prettiest voice can become boring and the most brilliant technique can seem barren after a while if the soul isn’t allowed to shine through.

When you don’t withhold a single spark of energy and emotion and throw yourself into what you’re singing completely, that’s when magic happens. And when you’re teaching someone to sing, if you can make them aware of this aspect and help them develop it right from the beginning, while building up all the technical aspects, then again, that’s when magic happens. It happens both for you and for your student, and it will make it much likelier to happen when they perform. Teaching people to sing is an even bigger privilege than singing. When someone entrusts their voice to you, they’re often putting the most important thing they have into your hands, and that’s not only their vocal cords, but also their hopes and their fears.

Helping someone build their technique and their self-confidence is one of the most inspiring things you can do.

Letting the voice unfold its full potential will help the person do the same. Our voice is a huge part of our personality, it “says” so much about us… I see it as a reflection of the person, and I want both to shine! When our parents and teachers and people around us taught us to be quiet and nice and well-behaved they started to tarnish our voice, our freedom, our natural exuberance and our potential, and often, so did many other things and people later in our lives. That’s just how our society works, it tends to flatten individuals, and not to encourage their talents and make them blossom. So we often have lots of dirt to clean off before we can and dare shine again. Helping voices and people shine is what I love the most.

Ella Fitzgerald said that “The only thing better than singing is more singing.” I agree, but my version of it is: “The only thing better than singing is dividing your time between singing and teaching others to sing”.

If you enjoyed the article, please leave a comment below. I’d love to hear from you.