How to Sing by Lilli Lehmann (best books to read for knowledge .TXT) 📕

What, then, can be expected of an untrained organ? Nothing!

Without daily vocal gymnastics no power of endurance in the muscles can be gained. They must be so strong that a great operatic rôle can be repeated ten times in succession, in order that the singer may become able to endure the strain of singing in opera houses, in great auditoriums, and make himself heard above a great orchestra, without suffering for it.

When I, for instance, was learning the part of Isolde, I could without weariness sing the first act alone six times in succession, with expression, action, and a full voice. That was my practice with all my rôles. After I had rehearsed a rôle a thousand times in my own room, I would go into the empty theatre and rehearse single scenes, as well as the whole opera, for hours at a time. That gave me the certainty of being mistress of my resonances down to the last note; and very often I felt able to begin it all over again. So must it be, if one wishes to accomplish anything worth while.

Another end also is attained by the same exercise,—the connection, not only of the vowels, but of all letters, syllables, words, and phrases. By this exercise the form for the breath, tone, and word, in which all the organs are adjusted to each other with perfect elasticity, is gradually established. Slowly but surely it assures greatest endurance in all the organs concerned in speaking and singing, the inseparable connection of the palatal resonance with the resonance of the head cavities. In this way is gained perfection in the art of singing, which is based, not on chance, but on knowledge; and this slow but sure way is the only way to gain it.

By the above-described method all other alphabetical sounds can be connected, and exercises can be invented to use with it, which are best adapted to correct the mistakes of pupils, at first on one, then step by step on two and three connected tones, etc.

At the same time it is necessary to learn to move the tongue freely, and with the utmost quickness, by jerking it back, after pronouncing consonants, as quick as a flash, into the position in which it conducts the breath to the resonating chambers for the vowels. With all these movements is connected the power of elastically contracting and relaxing the muscles.

Of special importance for the tone and the word are the movements of the lips, which are so widely different in the bright and in the dark vowels. These movements cannot be too much exaggerated in practising. The same strength and elasticity to which we have to train the muscles of the throat and tongue must be imparted to the lips, which must be as of iron. Upon their coöperation much of the life of the tone depends, and it can be used in many shadings, as soon as one is able to exert their power consciously and under the control of the will.

Every vowel, every word, every tone, can be colored as by magic in all sorts of ways by the well-controlled play of the lips; can, as it were, be imbued with life, as the lips open or close more or less in different positions. The lips are the final cup-shaped resonators through which the tone has to pass. They can retard it or let it escape, can color it bright or dark, and exert a ceaseless and ever varying influence upon it long before it ceases and up to its very end.

No attempt should be made to use the play of the lips until complete mastery of the absolutely even, perfect tone, and of the muscular powers, has been acquired. The effect must be produced as a result of power and practice; and should not be practised as an effect per se.

There is much discussion as to whether ah, oo, or some other vowel is the one best adapted for general practice. In former times practice was entirely on the vowel-sound ah. The old Italians taught it; my mother was trained so, and never allowed her pupils to use any other vowel during the first months of their instruction. Later, to be sure, every letter, every word, was practised and improved continually, till it was correct, and had impressed itself upon the memory, as well as the ear, of the pupil for all time.

I explain the matter thus:—

The singer's mouth should always make an agreeable impression. Faces that are forever grinning or showing fish mouths are disgusting and wrong.

The pleasing expression of the mouth requires the muscular contractions that form the bright vowel ah.

Most people who are not accustomed to using their vocal resonance pronounce the ah quite flat, as if it were the vowel-sound lying lowest. If it is pronounced with the position of the mouth belonging to the bright vowels, it has to seek its resonance, in speaking as well as in singing, in the same place as the dark vowels, on the high-arched palate. To permit this, it must be mingled with oo. The furrows in the tongue must also be formed, just as with oo and o, only special attention must be given that the back of the tongue does not fall, but remains high, as in pronouncing ā. In this way ah comes to lie between oo-o'ah'yā, and forms at the same time the connection between the bright and the dark vowels, and the reverse.

For this reason it was proper that ah should be preferred as the practice vowel, as soon as it was placed properly between the two extremes, and had satisfied all demands. I prefer to teach it, because its use makes all mistakes most clearly recognizable. It is the most difficult vowel. If it is well pronounced, or sung, it produces the necessary muscular contractions with a pleasing expression of the mouth, and makes certain a fine tone color by its connection with oo and o. If the ah is equally well formed in all ranges of the voice, a chief difficulty is mastered.

Those who have been badly taught, or have fallen into bad ways, should practise the vocal exercise I have given above, with ya-ye-yah, etc., slowly, listening to themselves carefully. Good results cannot fail; it is an infallible means of improvement.

Italians who sing well never speak or sing the vowel sound ah otherwise than mixed, and only the neglect of this mixture could have brought about the decadence of the Italian teaching of song. In Germany no attention is paid to it. The ah, as sung generally by most Italians of the present day, quite flat, sounds commonplace, almost like an affront. It can range itself, that is connect itself, with no other vowel, makes all vocal connection impossible, evolves very ugly registers; and, lying low in the throat, summons forth no palatal resonance. The power of contraction of the muscles of speech is insufficient, and this insufficiency misleads the singer to constrict the throat muscles, which are not trained to the endurance of it; thereby further progress is made impossible. In the course of time the tone becomes flat at the transitions. The fatal tremolo is almost always the result of this manner of singing.

Try to sing a scale upward on ah, placing the tongue and muscles of speech at the same time on ā, and you will be surprised at the agreeable effect. Even the thought of it alone is often enough, because the tongue involuntarily takes the position of its own accord.

I remember very well how Mme. Désirée Artot-Padilla, who had a low mezzo-soprano voice, used to toss off great coloratura pieces, beginning on the vowel-sound ah, and then going up and down on a, ee, aüoah. At the time I could not understand why she did it; now I know perfectly,—because it was easier for her. The breath is impelled against the cavities of the head, the head tones are set into action.

Behind the a position there must be as much room provided as is needed for all the vowels, with such modifications as each one requires for itself. The matter of chief importance is the position of the tongue in the throat, that it shall not be in the way of the larynx, which must be able to move up and down, even though very slightly, without hindrance.

All vowels must be able to flow into each other; the singer must be able to pass from one to another without perceptible alteration, and back again.

How easy it is for the Italians, who have by nature, through the characteristics of their native language, all these things which others must gain by long years of practice! A single syllable often unites three vowels; for instance, "tuoi" (tuoyē), "miei" (myeayē), "muoja," etc.

The Italians mingle all their vowels. They rub them into and color them with each other. This includes a great portion of the art of song, which in every language, with due regard to its peculiar characteristics, must be learned by practice.

To give only a single example of the difficulty of the German words, with the everlasting consonant endings to the syllables, take the recitative at the entrance of Norma:—

"Wer lässt hier Aufruhrstimmen, Kriegsruf ertönen, wollt Ihr die Götter zwingen, Eurem Wahnwitz zu fröhnen? Wer wagt vermessen, gleich der Prophetin der Zukunft Nacht zu lichten, wollt Ihr der Götter Plan vorschnell vernichten? Nicht Menschenkraft Können die Wirren dieses Landes schlichten."

Twelve endings on n!

"Sediziosi voci, voci di guerra, avvi chi alzar si attenta presso all'ara del Dio! V'ha chi presume dettar responsi alla vegente Norma, e di Roma affrettar il fato arcano. Ei non dipende, no, non dipende da potere umano!"

From the Italians we can learn the connection of the vowels, from the French the use of the nasal tone. The Germans surpass the others in their power of expressiveness. But he who would have the right to call himself an artist must unite all these things; the bel canto, that is, beautiful—I might say good—singing, and all the means of expression which we cultivated people need to interpret master works of great minds, should afford the public ennobling pleasure.

A tone full of life is to be produced only by the skilful mixture of the vowels, that is, the unceasing leaning of one upon the others, without, however, affecting any of its characteristics. This means, in reality, only the complete use of the resonance of the breath, since the mixture of the vowels can be obtained only through the elastic conjunction of the organs and the varying division of the stream of breath toward the palatal resonance, or that of the cavities of the head, or the equalization of the two.

The larynx must rise and descend unimpeded by the tongue, soft palate and pillars of the fauces rise and sink, the soft palate always able more or less to press close to the hard. Strong and elastic contractions imply very pliable and circumspect relaxation of the same.

I think that the feeling I have of the extension of my throat comes from the very powerful yet very elastic contraction of my muscles, which, though feeling always in a state of relaxability, appear to me like flexible steel, of which I can demand everything,—because never too much,—and which I exercise daily. Even in the entr'actes