Archive for category Speech

Energized, De-Energized and Over-Energized

Performing requires a balance of a huge number of factors that can make or break your ability to communicate effectively. Breath and sound, thought and emotion, action and reaction, ease and effort. As you perform, you release energy through your nervous system into action. Finding the right balance is hugely challenging. How much energy is needed to reach your acting partner and your audience? Too much, and you appear false and pushed; too little, and you can’t be heard, and your action/reaction can’t be seen. How do you find that balance?

Imagine a tightrope walker, working her way across the rope, carefully judging each step. Better yet, imagine yourself as the tightrope walker. Visualize what you would see, but more importantly what you would feel. In imagining this myself, my attention is first drawn to the idea of focus: this is a life-or-death activity. I must pay attention to all that I can in order to stay on that line. Where does my focus lie? In my feet, and their connection to the floor; in my alignment, sensing my body in space, adjusting to the sensations around me; in the moment, in moving my feet forward, in getting to my goal at the end of the rope. I’m not thinking about what I’m going to be making for dinner. I’m tuned into this place, this time, this activity: my life depends on it. Is it hard physical work? No. But it requires all my attention.

Acting is like that: it requires all your attention. And yet, it requires a sense of ease: it’s not a tense activity, but one where you are responsive to your environment, which includes your acting partner and the audience. That sense of ease demands a certain confidence. It’s a belief that you are worthy of being seen and heard, that your goal is achievable, that you dare to share your what scares you, that you allow your body/mind to respond "truthfully" to stimulus in the moment, without judgment, without scripting. Unfortunately, we don’t always find ourselves in the place where we have that confidence. Our fears of failure lead to second guessing, to planning the moment in order to get it "right," to limiting our responses to what we imagine before we start. And what so often happens is we fall into two ways of hiding that lack of confidence: we compensate by over-energizing, or by de-energizing.

Patsy Rodenburg, one of the most influetial voice teachers in the world, has taught, written and lead workshops around this idea a great deal. She uses the terms “Bluff” and “Deny” to describe these states. Bluffing is when you push vocally, you force your way through your argument, you demand attention without earning it. It’s a great term to describe the action the actor is using in their performance. They are playing at their objective, faking their way through it by insisting that this work. Denying is when you don’t give enough to the action you’re playing, you speak to quietly, you don’t commit to the demands of the language you’re speaking. Because you don’t believe that you can do it, you either pretend you can and bluff, or you admit defeat and deny. And though Antony is lying in Julius Caesar when he says "I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,/ Action, nor utterance, nor the powers of speech/ To stir men’s blood; I only speak right on," we must embrace his idea: that in speaking “right on,” we find ways to not to bluff through wit or words, but to simply put our focus into the language for all we’re worth.

So how do we practise this ideal, of speaking “right on?” Rodenburg suggests we start simply, and feel our way through the via negativa ("to describe God by describing what He is not"), to explore the idea and sensation of Bluff and Deny, and then try to find the middle road that is neither over-doing or under-doing. Balance is that state where one is neither falling off the rope to the left, nor falling off to the right… it is a constant state of adjustment, not a single thing, but a process.

So let’s take a simple phrase, a kind of affirmation, the kind of thing that is easy to not believe in, to force it, or pull back from because we all struggle with our self-worth, just like Al Franken’s Stuart Smalley. “I am worthy.” It’s nothing magic, it’s just a simple phrase about being “good enough.” It could be very funny; it could be deadly serious: it all depends on your point of view. For the sake of this experiment, let’s play with it as being deadly serious.

Here’s the experiment: Bluff your way through the phrase “I am worthy” in as many different ways as possible. Go to extremes. This is about falling off that balance point. Then begin to find the edge: where does it become questionable whether I’m pushing or not? Can you bluff physically, vocally, intellectually, emotionally?

Now try the opposite experiment: Deny your way through the phrase “I am worthy” in as many ways as you can. How small can you go? What pulls it "off" the balance? What does truth have to do with this? Can you find the place where it’s not clear whether you’re Denying or not? What happens physically, vocally, intellectually, emotionally, as you Deny?

You might now take a passage from something you know: a monologue, a poem, a song lyric. Try to work your way through the text, neither falling to left or right, but walking the tightrope of the language. If nothing comes to mind, try working your way across this tightrope of poetry by Lawrence Ferlinghetti:

Constantly risking absurdity              
                 and death
whenever he performs                 
above the heads
                 of his audience
the poet like an acrobat                 
climbs on rime
                 to a high wire of his own making
and balancing on eyebeams                 
                 above a sea of faces
paces his way                 
                 to the other side of the day
performing entrachats                 
                 and sleight-of-foot tricks
and other high theatrics                 
                 and all without mistaking
any thing                 
                 for what it may not be

from Lawrence Ferlinghetti, A Coney Island of the Mind. © 1958

In both Bluff and Deny, we discover symptoms that keep coming up. Signs that can be read by the audience or your scene partner that in many ways call you a liar. That announce that you’re not speaking “right on.” Many times, there are vocal signals: not enough or too much breath energy, vocal energy, pitch, melody, phrasing, breathiness, vocal press, manipulated diction, that doesn’t suit the space or the relationship. Each of us have our favourites, our habits that we go to by default, that we must overcome in order to go from where we “left off” in order to be “right on.” We must not "mistake / any thing / for what it may not be."

There is no one right way to speak“right on.” There are a million ways, each in response to the moment, the given circumstances, and your personal state-of-being. And there are infinite ways of losing that balance, and falling into bluff or deny. Sometimes the demands of a theatre require a scale that, if we were not acting but merely living “real life,” would feel as though we were bluffing. Sometimes the demands of a film scene, with the camera in a tight close-up, that would seem like denying in “real life.” But neither theatre nor film are real. They are a version of reality, shaped for the audience, filtered by the actor, the director and the crew. Truth is not a single thing, it is many things in response to the changing world around us. And speech is often about feeling out the world around us, sensing out our place in it, and speaking appropriately. We all have the tools to feel that. We must all embrace the world, and our place in it, to find that balance.

We are all worthy.

 

Next: Tempo: Dragging, Slow, Medium, Fast, and Rushing

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Endings

Final consonants deserve a fair bit of attention in a speech warm-up. That’s because there is a range of articulations available to the actor that are, for most people, beyond what we do in everyday speech. As contemporary everyday speech tends to be informal and personal, rather than the more formal and public style often called for in classical texts, or the demands of a large playing space, it makes sense that actors have to put some effort into making the adjustment. As I’ve discussed in "Bouncing the Lips," there is an articulation form called unreleased where the final stop consonants, /p t k, b d g/ just stop—the aren’t released at the end of a phrase, or going into another sound. This is the default for many speakers. Of course, the other option is to release these consonants, and for the voiceless consonants, that means releasing them with aspiration. (The range of possibilities of voiced and voiceless consonants was discussed in the "Beginnings" step.)

Voiceless Consonant Endings

Think of saying "I’d like you to stop." In informal speech, most English speakers will not release the final /p/ (that’s [p ̚] in IPA). They’ll make the /p/, that is they’ll stop the sound with the action of closing the lips, but they won’t release the /p/ in a puff of aspiration [aɪd laɪk ju tə stɒp̚]. However, for the stage, that final release is important. Try saying that phrase again with a final /p/ that includes aspiration (that’s [pʰ] in IPA) [aɪd laɪk ju tə stɒp ̚]. That puff of air demands a greater commitment to the final /p/. Now, try it with a phrase ending in /t/: "It doesn’t fit," first with a stop, with no audible release [t ̚], and then aspirated, [tʰ]. Note that the other word-final /t/s don’t get the release, here, though they could if you were being really emphatic. Let’s try that: [ɪtʰ dʌzntʰ fɪtʰ]. See how the aspiration takes time, slowing it down while emphasizing the words? Finally, let’s look at an example with a final /k/ sound: "Pick up the slack, Jack." The /k/ at the end of "pick" must release into the vowel of "up," but it isn’t necessarily very aspirated because "up" is unstressed. The /k/ at the end of "slack" doesn’t have to be released, especially in casual speech, nor does the /k/ at the end of "Jack." Try aspirating both slack and Jack, and you might even try really overdoing the /k/ at the end of Pick, too: [pɪkʰ ʌp ðə slækʰ dʒækʰ]. Fully aspirated releases on all the final /k/ sounds is totally appropriate for a large theatre, though for those who are unfamiliar with playing at that scale, it often feels too extravagant. You have to work on this to get to the point where you’re more comfortable.

Voiced Consonant Endings

When a phrase ends in a voiced stop consonant, speakers are inclined to not release the sound. In the phrase "Bob is a slob," the /b/ in Bob releases into the following vowel. But the final /b/ in slob can easily be unreleased: [slɒb ̚]. To release that final /b/ may make it feel like you’re putting a tiny schwa [ə] at the end: [slɒbə]. That’s too much! Find the version where you release the /b/, but only just.

Try the same on the phrases, for /d/ and /g/ respectively:

"Brad is glad to see Fred."

"The rag is in the big bag."

These two sentences both feature linking stops (that release), stops before other stops (in glad_to and big_bag) where there is no release, and final stops that have optional releases. Some theatre voice people would insist on having a release in glad_to and big_bag though this sometimes gives it the sound of [ɡlædətu] or [bɪɡəbæɡ] if overdone. Try those phrases with a very subtle release, and see if you can do it. Then try the sentence with releases on those words and on the final words, Fred and bag. You really need to relish those sounds, indulge in them. Make a choice to justify why you would be so extravagant with those sounds. Sometimes people find that if they mouthe the words, as if they were trying to be heard through 3 in. of glass, that they are inclined to fully commit to those sounds. I suppose that one could think of reaching the aging audience of many classical theatre companies, whose hearing is beginning to go, as try to talk to them through sound proof glass. You really have to try hard!

It’s worth noting that most speakers devoice their final stops, so that "Brad is glad to see Fred" could essentially sound like "Brad is glad to see Fret," except that the vowel of Fred is sustained longer than it is in Fret. Try that out—compare "Slob-slop, Fred-Fret, Bag-back," but don’t release the final consonants. Notice how the second words have significantly shorter vowels, while the final consonant is pretty much the same? Committing to releasing final consonants helps to enhance the difference between the ends of these words, which is one of the principal justifications voice and speech coaches have for defending their preference for final releases. Try those comparisons again, but this time release the final consonants: "Slob-slop, Fred-Fret, Bag-back." Likely this feels a bit much wherever you are right now, but in a large theatre, it really pays off.

 

Continuants

Continuants are the opposite of stops (affricates, like "ch" /tʃ/, are combos of stops and continuants): they continue. Final continuants at the end of phrases often have a tendency to not continue very long. Really committing to them takes time and energy. Try this phrase: "Sing the hymn, Tom." To take the time for those final nasal consonants demands a certain relish. Final voiceless fricative continuants, including /θ, f, s, ʃ/ in English are often very short, and final voiced fricatives, which include /ð, v, z, ʒ/, also have a tendency to devoice. Apart from the length of vowel that precedes them, the final consonant in believe-belief is frequently very similar. Especially at the end of phrases, like "I don’t know what to believe," these final fricates can devoice strongly enough that they’re very similar to the sound at the end of a phrase like "That’s beyond belief." By choosing to commit to the voicing and the length of these final consonants /ð, v, z, ʒ/, we can make that contrast greater, which theoretically should make the meaning slightly clearer.

Consider the ends of lines in Shakespeare’s Sonnet 17:

Who will believe my verse in time to come
If it were filled with your most high deserts?
Though yet heaven knows it is but as a tomb
Which hides your life, and shows not half your parts:
If I could write the beauty of your eyes,
And in fresh numbers number all your graces,
The age to come would say this poet lies,
Such heavenly touches ne’er touched earthly faces.
So should my papers (yellowed with their age)
Be scorned, like old men of less truth than tongue,
And your true rights be termed a poet’s rage,
And stretched metre of an antique song.
But were some child of yours alive that time,
You should live twice in it, and in my rhyme.

We encounter a variety of endings worth playing. I’ll go through the lines, one by one, to discuss the choices we have.

  1. come: take the time to fully voice the /m/.
  2. deserts: the /ts/ needs to be crisp and quick.
  3. tomb: relish the /m/ and recognize the rhyme with line 1.
  4. parts: check off the /ts/ sharply.
  5. eyes: the final /s/ of this word should be a voiced [z] sound.
  6. graces: again, final /s/ needs to be [z]; it’s debatable whether it should be preceded by a schwa [ə] or a small-cap I [ɪ].
  7. lies: needs a final [z].
  8. faces: make it match the [z] on graces.
  9. age: be sure that the [dʒ] doesn’t go to [tʃ].
  10. tongue: take the time to really make the /ŋ/. Some people choose to release this sound with a tiny release; I think this is inappropriate.
  11. rage: the same as age.
  12. song: of course this doesn’t rhyme with tongue anymore, but the final consonant needs the length to really be heard.
  13. time: again, give the final /m/ its due, let time take time!
  14. rhyme: of course rhyme must rhyme with time; indulge that /m/ just like in time.

Taking the time to indulge your endings gives you a chance to relish the substance of the words. It’s the sound of words that carries their meaning in a large theatre, and committing to the sounds also requires a huge emotional commitment to match the scale of the words. Often we get emotional and take it personal and small. In the theatre we have to take the emotion and support it, share it and make it public. Giving vocally means sharing what’s on the inside with the ouside world, and that happens vocally more than anywhere else.

 

Next: Energized, De-Energized, and Over-Energized

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Beginnings

AspirationAspiration As I’ve mentioned elsewhere, everything has a beginning, middle and end. In terms of speech, awareness of beginnings and endings is helpful is varying your performance for different settings, from the most intimate on-mic technique, to the most challenging outdoor amphitheatre. Both vowels and consonants deserve some attention with regard to beginnings and endings, but we’ll work with consonants for now. We’ll start this exploration by focusing on Beginnings in this post, and Endings in the next post.

In terms of diction, most people think of consonants as an important weapon in the battle to be heard and understood. Learning to commit strongly to the actions that generate strong consonant sounds is a hurdle that most theatre actors in training must overcome, whether in class or merely in production. Teachers and directors for the theatre invariably must demand of their actors to "spit out the words" and commit to the sounds of the language of the play. Of the consonant sounds, the stop-plosive sounds have the greatest potential for impact in a large space, if they’re given the requisite energy to reach all corners of the playing environment. However, this kind of choice is totally inappropriate for more intimate theatre work, and so one must learn to be sensitive to the context in which you play, and how those demands set up a new series of requirements of your speech. To do that well, it helps to appreciate the options available, or the range of articulations, for a given sound.

Let’s dig further into the stop-plosive sounds, /p b, t d, k g/. Each of these pairs has a voiceless partner ( /p t k/ ) and a voiced partner (/b d g/). In English, the voiceless consonants are aspirated at the beginning of words and stressed syllables pin, tin, kin; appoint, attest, akin; that’s to say that these consonants are articulated with a puff of air. I’ve written quite a lot about this and more recently in the early steps of this series in "Bouncing the Lips," where we explored aspiration of the lip-based (bilabial) consonant /p/. Because we’ve done /p b/ already, we’ll focus on /t d/ and /k g/ in this post.

The release of these plosive consonants are goverened by something linguists call "Voice Onset Time" (VOT for short)—which is the length of time from when the consonant is released, and when voicing begins. Generally, voiceless consonants have voicing begin after the release of the consonant (ie going into the sound that follows), while voiced consonants have voicing begin on the release of the consonant, or slightly before the release. There’s a lot of room for variation, and different languages have different expectations. This is important because we’ll need to be able to do different versions for different accents. Aspirated voiceless consonants have the greatest delay between the release of the consonant and voicing.

To learn how to appreciate this difference, we’re going to compare /d/ with /t/ and /ɡ/ with /k/, working our way through a variety of VOT possibilities, and learning the IPA symbols for these variations as we go. We’ll start with the most “voiced” sounds, and work our way toward the most “voiceless” sounds.

  1. Say “dee” [diː] but stick on the voicing of the /d/ so that you make the place of the sound /d/ release the consonant only after you’ve made the sound for as long as possible. I’m going to transcribe this in IPA with a length mark, that looks like a colon made out of little trianɡles, on the /d/ to indicate the length on the voicing: [dːiː]. Repeat that at least 3 times: [dːiː dːiː dːiː]
  2. Now, do a “dee” with more voicing time than usual, but less than you just did. I’ll use a half-long diacrictic to indicate this articulation: [dˑiː]. Again, repeast 3 times: [dˑiː dˑiː dˑiː]
  3. Next, say “dee” with the usual amount of voicing for English: that is, with the voicing beginning just as consonant releases. I’ll just use a plain ol’ [d] for this, no diacritics at all: [diː]. Repeat 3 times: [diː diː diː]
    You should know that initial /d/ in English is essentially the same as an unaspirated /t/ in many languages.
  4. We’re now moving into the territory of voiceless consonants, so we’ll use /t/ from here on out. First we’ll do a /t/ that has no aspiration, and essentially perhaps a slightly longer VOT than we just did. We’ll just use a plain [t] for this, too. [tiː]. Repeat that at least 3 times: [tiː tiː tiː]
    Without aspiration, this will sound a lot like an initial /d/ in English.
  5. Now, let’s add a little bit of aspiration. The diacritic mark in the IPA for aspiration is a tiny superscript "h" that follows the symbol: [tʰ]. Think of that little "h" representing the puff of air escaping. Try it with [tʰiː]. Now try it 3 times in a row: [tʰiː tʰiː tʰiː]
  6. To do more excessive aspiration, we want to draw out the puff of air, which we’ll indicate with several "h" diacritics. Be extravagant with this sound: [tʰʰiː]. Now repeat 3 times: [tʰʰiː tʰʰiː tʰʰiː]

If we put all 6 steps together into a sequence from most voiced to most aspirated, this is what we get:

[dːiː dˑiː diː tiː tʰiː tʰʰiː]

I find that I’m inclined to get quieter in the middle, as I negotiate my way around the shift from /d/ into /t/.

Now we want to try the whole shebang again, but this time with /ɡ/ and /k/. I’m going to recommend that you not say “gee” the way you normally do /dʒi/ with a "soft G", but with a "hard G", which is the sound of /ɡ/ [ɡiː], and then that you not say "K" the way we do in English, but as key, [kiː], to rhyme with [ɡiː].

  1. Lots of Pre-voicing: [ɡːiː ɡːiː ɡːiː]
  2. Some Pre-voicing: [ɡˑiː ɡˑiː ɡˑiː]
  3. Voice on the Release: [ɡiː ɡiː ɡiː]
  4. No Aspiration: [kiː kiː kiː]
  5. Some Aspiration: [kʰiː kʰiː kʰiː]
  6. Lots of Aspiration: [kʰʰiː kʰʰiː kʰʰiː]

Finally, we want to string the 6 versions of velar stop-plosives into a single sequence:

[ɡːiː ɡˑiː ɡiː kiː kʰiː kʰʰiː]

Can you do this sequence with the bilabial stop-plosives, /b/ and /p/?

  1. Lots of Pre-voicing: [bːiː bːiː bːiː]
  2. Some Pre-voicing: [bˑiː bˑiː bˑiː]
  3. Voice on the Release: [biː biː biː]
  4. No Aspiration: [piː piː piː]
  5. Some Aspiration: [pʰiː pʰiː pʰiː]
  6. Lots of Aspiration: [pʰʰiː pʰʰiː pʰʰiː]

And the string of bilabials:

[bːiː bˑiː biː piː pʰiː pʰʰiː]

Having a sense of the variations if these beginnings can really help you to make subtle yet important shifts between various accents and dialecs.

Try this tongue twister, focusing on the /t/, first with a lot of aspiration [tʰʰ]. (If you’re a mainstream North American, don’t worry about the second /t/ in "totally".)

Two toads, totally tired.

If you’ve read many of the posts here on the site, you’ll know that I’ll recommend that you try the tongue twister now with less aspiration than normal, then with no aspiration, so it’s almost "Do dodes, dodally dired". This very dry /t/ sound creates a very different sort of beginning than what you may be useful, and that works for dialects and also for mic technique, as we don’t want a lot of aspiration on the mic.

Now for a /k/ sound. This tongue twister involves /k/ and /b/ — focus on the former, and let the latter take care of itself:

Pretty Kitty Creighton had a cotton batten cat.
The cotton batten cat was bitten by a rat.
The kitten that was bitten had a button for an eye,
And biting off the button made the cotton batten fly.

Start by making the very aspirated /kʰʰ/ , then try the other versions, too: less aspirated and unaspirated. Now try doing the same tongue twister but this time focusing on the /b/ sound, trying to enhance its voicing: linger on the "b" — this will slow things down, but emphasize the words.

Finally try the tongue twister, playing the intervocalic /t/ that is, the ones between vowels, as is Pretty Kitty. (Note that many dialects would not aspirate the /t/ in words like "cotton batten", because it would go into the /n/, either with a nasal plosion or with a glottal co-articulation. Put altogether, these changes will emphasize the articulation of the beginnings of most of the syllables in the text. This might be appropriate for an outdoor performance, or perhaps as a character of an actor, "playing" their articulation.

 

Next: Endings

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Vocal Qualities

Vocal Qualities are variations in the way you speak. These could be just about any modifier to your "regular" voice and speech pattern, but here we’re going to focus on changes to your voice "tone," done primarily at the breath and sound (respiration/phonation) level, rather than at the resonation and articulation level, which we played with in the Placement Playtime step of the Speech Warm-up Series.

Breath control has a lot of impact on the quality of your voice. As air passes through your larynx, between your vocal folds, the level of air pressure dictates what sounds are possible. If we have too little air, just the right amount or too much air pressure, the vocal quality changes dramatically. Also, how we adjust that air pressure through our speaking can affect the onset of making sound (phonation), and the end of the sound or phrase.

Fry

The first vocal quality we’ll explore comes from a limited amount of air pressure. Vocal or Glottal Fry is a sound quality that relies on the the way the vocal folds vibrate, different from their standard mode of vibrating. Most people know this sound when they hear it, though many people who use fry on a regular basis are unaware that they are doing so. Used sparingly, Glottal Fry is not bad for the voice, though excessive use can be fatiguing, and learning how to get out of the habit of using it constantly can be a challenge.

To make a fry sound you need to limit the air passing over your folds. Very gently sigh as you drop down in pitch. As you get to the bottom of your range, try to relax. Continue the sound as long as you can, barely exhaling at all. The sound will switch it a different quality, that sounds perhaps like a very quiet chainsaw idling, or perhaps the sound of popcorn being made (at the start when only a few kernals are popping.) Experiment with this sound by sustaining a sort of "ah" [ɑ] vowel. How loud can you go? Can you go up in pitch? How slow can you make the fry — the rate at which that popping occurs? As the fry slows down, it becomes even more irregular sounding. How fast can you make it go without it changing into regular vibration? As you speed up the fry, the pitch of it is likely to rise: that’s ok. With the limited use of breath energy to make this sound, you may need to take a breath, sigh and let go of the tension that creeps in to your body. (Try a Roll-Down, why doncha?)

Now try speaking on fry; you might try reading this paragraph out loud. Generally, I find that people who speak in fry tend to speak on a monotone, or very close to one. Try to speak on your fry now, and have as much melody as possible. This is quite tricky. As you go higher in pitch, more tension is required in the larynx to counteract the increased air pressure used to raise the pitch. Now, "how low can you go?" This vocal limbo dance may remind you of trying to do a Barry White impersonation; as most of us don’t have the ability to mimic Mr. White’s basso profundo, we switch to fry to notes lower.

It’s quite common today to hear people use glottal fry as part of their everyday speech pattern. Not all the time, but as part of most sentences. The speaker will start out on regular voice and then switch as they get near the end of the phrase or sentence. Try reading along here and when I switch to italics, let your voice switch to glottal fry. You’ll probably find that it works best if you don’t have much air. So don’t breathe in too much to start, so you run out of air early and have to finish with very little support. For longer thoughts, you might run out of air at the end of each phrase, (breathe) so you would have several bits going to fry, each starting on voice and running out of steam.

Falsetto

Falsetto, like glottal fry, is another "different" mode of vocal fold vibration. It’s another vocal quality mode, and it sounds rather strange when applied to the regular speaking voice. For women, the closest to this is head voice, which seems to be part of some women’s natural speaking voices, though not generally in North America. Often used as part of a man’s upper range, especially in certain styles of singing, falsetto in speaking tends to be reserved for character voice, and in animation. Mickey Mouse is a famous example of just such a characterization. In real life, people occasionally pop up into falsetto when they are very emotionally distressed. On falsetto, the vocal folds are only vibrating along the front edge of the folds, and there’s typically a gap or "chink" at the back of the folds, which tends to make the tone somewhat breathy.

To get to that place, start by sirening down on pitch from head tone/falsetto to find the place where your voice breaks and switches into chest voice (regular tone). Then try again, going even slower trying to find the lowest pitch you can make, without flipping into chest. You might try counting and you move down to that lowest pitch, "1, 2, 3, 4, 5…" so you’re speaking in falsetto, into that range. Once there, try speaking a sentence or two (you can read this paragraph again, if you’d like). It’s certainly an odd sound.

Pressed & Breathy Phonation

Pressing on your voice, which happens when you push a lot of air through very tightly held vocal folds, is very hard on the voice. It probably is the opposite of fry, in that fry takes very little air pressure, while press takes a lot. We won’t be practising this, but it’s good to know what it is. Many people press vocally in order to be loud, but it’s very harmful in the long run. You often hear it when power lifters grunt as they do the effort lifting a very heavy weight. Think of holding your breath and then pushing sound out—that’s the action.

Perhaps slightly less harmful is breathiness. Caused by only partially bring the vocal folds together, breathiness is very drying, and can make an injured voice worse. When you whisper, you’re doing breathy sound, and even if you don’t partially phonate, your folds are still closed tight. But in small doses, when your in good vocal health, a little quiet whispering is ok, especially if you only do it for a short time.

Estill Voice and Quality

One style of voice training stands out in terms of vocal quality: Estill. No other contemporary voice technique specializes in exploring the ways of making a large range of vocal qualities as Estill. Unfortunately, Estill training is something that I’ve only been introduced to in a very fleeting way, and so I wouldn’t presume to try to explain it. I’m hoping to take a workshop in Estill in the coming year, but until then I can only point you toward resources where you might be find out about a workshop for you to explore. When I’ve had more training, you can be sure that I’ll be keen to explain what I’ve learned here!

 

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Placement Playtime

"Placement" is a term we use to describe the sensation of the voice through sympathetic vibration. In this step of our warm-up, we’ll explore making changes to the vocal tract to make our voices sound different. If we feel the resonance of the voice through that vibration, we can sense our voices in a way other than just hearing it. In a way, placement is an antenna for perceiving the quality of our voices. What changes the quality of the resonance of our voices is the shape of the vocal tract, all the anatomical structures above the vocal folds. (See this website for more on the idea of placement vs. vocal tract shaping.)

One fairly easy "placement" to make is a nasal one. For this, we change the vocal tract by dropping the soft palate on the vowel sound, so that the sound of our voices comes out both the mouth and the nose. The sympathetic vibrations travel very strongly into the nasal cavities and bones of the face. The character of "Janice" from the t.v. show "Friends" has an extremely nasal voice—perhaps you could use that as a model. Try saying "mee mee mee" [miː miː miː] with a very nasal voice, and feel the vibrations in your nose and cheeks. You might put your fingers on the sides of your nose to really feel those vibrations. Can you feel how your soft palate is dropped? Few people can, so let’s try doing the opposite, and then try to feel the difference.

The opposite of nasal sound is denasal, which is when the soft palate is up accutely, even on sounds when you would normally drop it. It’s the sound you get when your nose is completely blocked with an upper respiratory infection (a cold in your nose). When that happens, the nasal consonants begin to sound like stop consonants: [m] becomes [b], [n] becomes [d], and [ŋ] becomes [ɡ]. So "my" sounds like "buy," "not" sounds like "dot," and "bring" sounds like "brig." Can you make that sound? Try saying "I have a cold in my nose," which sounds like "I have a cold in by doze."

Now, let’s try going back and forth between these two qualities: let’s count up to 10 with a nasal voice, and then back to 1 with a denasal voice. "nasal!:One-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten; denasal!: Ten-nine-eight-seven-six-five-four-three-two-one." You should notice the vowels especially on the way up to 10, and the nasal consonants in particular on the way back down (on 10—"ted", 9—"died", 7—"seved" and 1—"wud".) For something more challenging, try counting backwards from 10, start with a nasal sound, and then switch for the odd numbers: "Ten, died, eight, seved, six, five, four, three, two, wud."

What other "placement" qualities can we explore? There is a hallow, chesty sound you can make by opening up your pharynx (the part of your throat just behind your mouth). To me, this sounds quite a lot like the sound that Felicity Huffman used as "Bree" in the film Transamerica. Start by saying "hah, hah" with a mildly breathy tone. Then widen your soft palate, as if you were about to yawn. This should spread backward toward the throat. Keep saying "hah hah", and make sure that you stay on a low pitch. Now, with this placement (probably feeling some buzz in your collarbones and throat), speak the alphabet on a fairly monotonous pitch. "A, B, C, D, E, F, G — H, I, J, K, L-M-N-O-P — Q, R, S — T, U, V — W, X — Y and Z." Now try speaking freely: tell a story starting with "Once Upon a Time, there was a…"

Our last placement for today is what many might call the "Kermit" placment or the "Dudley Do-Right" sound, depending on your age/generation. This sound is immediately recognizable to most people, and has been used by animation voice over actors for years. (It’s also the sound of "Marvin the Martian" as well as an ingredient in the unusual voice of Bob "Bobcat" Goldthwait, especially in his early films like "Police Academy 2".) To manipulate your vocal tract to make this sound, you’ll need to tense your soft palate and keep the back of your tongue very close to your uvula, close to, but not touching the place where one makes the "ng" sound [ŋ], and tensing the tongue root, and pushing it down and out. This makes any sense of "double chin" that one already has look even large (very attractive)! Try saying that "ng" sound going into an "oh" sound [ŋoʊ ŋoʊ ŋoʊ], which is a sort of modified "No, no, no!" Now try Marvin the Martian’s classic line: "It makes me very angry!" or with Kermy’s "Hi-ho, Kermit the Frooog, here!"

 

Next: Vocal Qualities

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