Learning to sing

Modifié le : 2019/08/04

I am sweat­ing, my body is straight, not stiff as a sol­dier, but, at my teacher’s sug­ges­tion, as if my head were held by a thin thread stretched to the infin­i­ty of the sky and my coc­cyx stowed on the ground. The posi­tion is com­fort­able, and yet I become clam­my. There are so many things to think about : open­ing your mouth to swal­low a lemon, attack­ing the sound with­out giv­ing a glot­tis blow, not bend­ing your lungs, not swelling your stom­ach, widen­ing your diaphragm instead and then for­get­ting all that, because you just have to sing…

I took my first singing les­son last Thurs­day. I have already expe­ri­enced some high emo­tions there, the first being to see that a few things are enough to free the voice. Obvi­ous­ly, these mag­i­cal moments are of short dura­tion and do not in any way pre­dict the work that will have to be done. If I have a beau­ti­ful voice, it is nonethe­less dis­tort­ed by the prac­tice of choral singing which, to be hon­est, works won­ders of cam­ou­flage when you are an ama­teur. In a choir, you can breathe almost any­where you want, if you know how to do it, and as long as you blend in with the rest of the group.

Singing alone is more con­strain­ing. The nudi­ty is total, the voice is based only on your own trust, your per­son­al energy.

And why, at 53 years old, take singing lessons ? Why not ? It is a form of adven­ture, anoth­er of those many bot­tles that are thrown into the sea of pos­si­bil­i­ties. I go where desire leads me, where melodies are born and die. Liv­ing ful­ly is a quest and a pilgrimage.

Mi, fa, sol, doooo…