Finding My Voice

I glanced nervously at the audience. Forty pairs of eyes and ears were fixed on me alone. I could always bolt from the stage, I thought, but that would be more embarrassing than going through with this. So I took a deep breath, and with one firm nod to the piano player, I closed my eyes, opened my mouth, and sang my heart out. Although I’m well into middle age, this was the first time I’d serenaded an audience. When I finished singing a 17th-century classical Italian song, I received a solid round of applause, and I felt a deep connection with everyone in the room.

Less than three months before, I couldn’t carry a tune, but I’d heard about a class called “Singing for People Who Think They Can’t” at Singers Forum, in the Flatiron district, and I’d signed up. I quickly learned that singing does more than get your vocal cords vibrating. It’s a physical, mental, and spiritual workout. The required deep diaphragmatic breathing leads to lower levels of the stress hormone cortisol, according to a study by musicologist Gunter Kreutz. Vocalizing also sharpens the memory, enhances the immune system, and may even eliminate hot flashes in menopausal women.

Although I’ve played piano and danced (ballet, tap, classical Indian, ancient hula, you name it) since I was a child, I was early given the message that my voice wasn’t good enough. I was one of only two students rejected by my elementary school’s glee club. More recently, my husband and son had often told me gently that I was off key when I harmonized around the house.

But after taking lessons, I realized why the likes of Jennifer Lopez and björk have nothing to fear from me. The reason I can’t sing popular songs well is because I’m what’s called a coloratura soprano. I revel in notes from High C and above, the range I call my “dolphin voice.” Singing lower notes doesn’t come naturally to me, but, after five years of lessons, listen here to my rendition of Mozart’s “Der Hölle Rache” (“The Queen of the Night’s Vengeance Aria”). With its stratospheric range—up to High F—it is my musical cup of tea.

I remember one of my first private lessons: As the teacher played progressively higher scales on the piano, I thought, “Now we’re finally getting to the easy stuff.” I kept going, blissfully singing high notes until the teacher stopped playing. With an astonished look on her face, she blurted out, “You have a much larger instrument that I realized.” I had hit a perfect High F, gracefully and without even trying.

I also recall Katya Kortny, my first teacher at Singers Forum, coaxing me to engage my diaphragm when singing my then ear-splitting rendition of “Tonight” from West Side Story. I suddenly realized that I could sing on pitch if I focused on my breath. Another teacher went so far as to say that singers are “professional breathers.”

I’ve since delighted in taking evening classes at the Juilliard School, and a series of wonderful opera workshops at Mannes College. I’ve even sung in the chorus of several amateur opera productions. I’ve always enjoyed music, but vocalizing through my own “instrument” has brought me unexpected bliss at an age when most professional singers are contemplating retirement.

Little by little, I understood what I needed to do to produce good sounds, but I also learned lessons in life. I discovered that we can’t rely on our ears when vocalizing. Because our face and body amplify the tiny sound produced by our vocal cords, much like an external amplifier augmenting the sounds of a stereo or iPod, we hear our own voices differently than the rest of the world does. We just have to learn to trust ourselves.

Singing teaches us to step out of our own way. In a sense, we’re not making the sound: the components of those tones are always surrounding us. All we need to do is to deeply breathe in the air around us and then release it to let it come out of our instrument. We’re letting go and relaxing our throat muscles, allowing that sound to come out of our mouths—and, in fact, our entire bodies.

Singing has taught me to breathe deeply. Many people take shallow breaths, consequently depriving themselves of the oxygen that not only improves health but also our outlook on life. I defy you to find someone who’s just stepped out of a voice class who isn’t beaming. They have taken a walk on air.

And lastly, it’s taught me that we’re more than we imagine. Who would’ve thought a middle-aged woman could suddenly hit notes that her own teachers only dream of? This wonderful gift has brought me more confidence in my ability to learn new things at any age.

I’m convinced that anyone can sing if given the proper tools: good posture, breath control, and other tips that good teachers impart to their students. And I urge everyone to embark on a musical journey to understand what St. Augustine expressed when he commented, “To sing is to pray twice.”