Posts Tagged Speech

Lighten Your Dark L

Dark L is the version of the /l/ consonant that most English speakers use at the ends of syllables, after a vowel, as in tile, hull, school. Depending on your accent, you may have a different kind of /l/ sound in other settings. Usually initial L, as in light, lovely, luscious, is said with the opposite L, that is the Light L. Perhaps you can hear the difference between these initial-light and final-dark pairs: lie—aisle/I’ll, lee—eel, lay—ail, low—ole, law—awl, allow—owl. 

Light L is spoken with the centre of the front tip of the tongue behind the upper front teeth on the gum ridge. The sides of the tongue do not touch the side teeth. To feel this side space, make an /l/ sound shape with your tongue and then inhale through the shape. You should feel coolness on the sides of your tongue. If you were to say a series of “la, la, la’s”, your tongue should rise up to the gum ridge and back down in a nice flapping kind of motion.

Dark L is also spoken with the centre of the front tip of the tongue behind the upper front teeth on the gum ridge, however, the back of the tongue also rises up toward the soft palate, also known as the velum. To feel this, say a word like awl. You should be able to hear the “darkening effect” of the rise of the back of the tongue toward the soft palate, which traps the sound further back in the mouth. In some ways it is as if you were saying the  /ʊ/; vowel of a word like pull at the same time as you were making the dark L. The IPA symbol for the dark L is either a lower case L with a tilde through it,  ɫ —the far more common way of transcribing it—or a lower case L with a superscript velarization diactric after it, which looks like a tiny Greek gamma character,  .

The thing about Dark L is that it tends to affect the vowel sound that precedes it. So if you were to say a word like feel, and you used a particularly dark  <span>/ɫ/</span>, the word might break almost into two syllables, fee-yul,  as the tongue was yanked back to the velarized sound. This is seen by many as an exaggeration or distortion of the word’s pronunciation, and, if you are speaking verse it might easily give a single syllable word the feeling of having two syllables, which probably would go against the poet’s intent. If your natural accent leads you to say words with a final Dark L, perhaps you could try to lighten that sound to some degree. Note that I’m not recommending that you replace ɫ with l! This would modify your accent to the point where you would sound as though you had an Irish accent. That’s not a bad thing if you are Irish or German! But for most other accents of English, it is inappropriate.

My advice for this is to start out and join the dark side of the L-force. Say feel, fail, fell, file, fool, full, foal, foil, fall, foul, all with a very dark L. Pull that back of tongue arch up close to the soft palate; some would say that in extreme cases you might be pulling it back toward the pharynx. (In that case, the symbol should be with the pharyngealized diacritic, which looks like a superscript backward glottal mark,  .) Now, try it with what you feel is your regular, habitual manner of saying that list of words.

Now my padawan, you need to use the light side of the force, and swing too far towards the way we make initial L: make all those words with a final Light L, which should make your speech sound slightly Irish or German.

The action of the tongue should be very much just the front edge of the tongue coming up behind the upper front teeth, and no velarization AT ALL.

Last step: speak that list of words with a lighter-than-usual, but-still-not-light, L. I think that the words that are preceded by front vowels,  feel, fail, fell, file, should feel great with this lighter L, while the words where the final L is preceded by a back vowel, fool, full, foal, foil, fall, foul, might feel a little less comfortable or familiar.

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Consonant Cluster: /-sts/

-sts clusterGetting greater articulatory detail in your speech comes from making sure that you include consonant cluster sounds rather than elide them when you feel that the emphasis will serve you. Today we’ll look at a final consonant cluster that frequently gets reduced down to a mere /-s/. These words, in their citation form often end in /-st/, so we’ll focus on words that end in -ist, such as list, but also words with -ist suffixes like aerialist. Because we want the triple cluster /-sts/, we’ll focus on the plurals or verb forms that end with /s/, such as lists, arborists, coexists.

Edith Skinner, in her influential, but controversial book, Speak with Distinction, called the process of speaking this cluster, and ones like it such as /-sps/ and /-sks/, the Swing-Chop action. The idea was that you would lengthen the first /s/, and then quickly “chop off” the plosive-fricative pair so we got [wɪsss-ps, wɪsss-ts, wɪsss-ks ] for wisps, whists, whisks. For some speakers the challenge is that, at speed, they tend to drop off the “chop” portion, and so a word like lists gets pronounced as [lɪsss], where the time that the cluster would normally take gets represented by the elongated /s/.

For your speaking pleasure, I give you a list of /-ɪsts/ words. Speak them slowly at first and then work your way up to speaking them more quickly. The point isn’t to go so fast you begin to fail, but to merely give your articulators a wake up call, a reminder that they can be nimble and agile.

absolutists, absurdists, accompanists, accordionists, acupuncturists, adventurists, aerialists, alarmists, altruists, Americanists, Anabaptists, animal rightists, Antichrists, anti-racists, apologists, arborists, archaeologists, archivists, arsonists, artists, assists, astrochemists, atheists, backlists, balloonists, bassists, bicyclists, biologists, blacklists, botanists, cabbalists, Calvinists, canoeists, capitalists, caricaturists, careerists, cartoonists, cellists, check-lists, chiropodists, Christs, clarinettists, classicists, coexists, collectivists, colonists, columnists, communists, computer scientists, conformists, congregationalists, consists, constructivists, conversationalists, copyists, cosmologists, craniologists, cryptologists.

And, of course, we can’t tackle this cluster without looking at that classic tongue-twister…

Amidst the mists and coldest frosts
With barest wrists and stoutest boasts
He thrusts his fists against the posts
And still insists he sees the ghosts.

[Now I can't allow a post about /s/-based clusters go by without commenting that there is a bias against high pitched, hissy-/s/, which is often called hypersibilant or just plain sibilant for short. (Sibilant is a term for any /s/-like, hissy sound, but people often misuse it too mean a high pitched, extremely hissy /s/.) Generally, we can assume that you're working to have a lower, not-too-excessive /s/ that doesn't draw too much attention to itself.]

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Releasing Your Final Consonants

  • Just stop!
  • You’re such a snob!
  • I don’t get it!
  • I’m so mad!
  • I feel sick!
  • Don’t make me beg!

All these short sentences end in stop-plosive consonants. In more casual, intimate speech, we’re likely to not release these final consonants—we merely make the stop action, but we don’t release the plosion that is associated with them. In IPA I would transcribe my pronunciation of these using the “no audible release” symbol that indicates that there is no sound that comes from the release of the consonant, like this:

  • [dʒʌst stɒp̚ ]
  • [jɚ sʌtʃ ə snɒb̚ ]
  • [aɪ̯ doʊnt ̚ ɡɛɾ ɪt̚ ]
  • [aɪ̯m soʊ̯ mæd̚ ]
  • [aɪ̯ fiɫ sɪk̚ ]
  • [doʊ̯nt ̚ meɪ̯k ̚ mi bɛɡ̚ ]

You’ll notice that there are a few instances where I’m using the “no audible release” symbol in places other than the ends of phrases, such as when a stop butts up against another stop, as in [doʊ̯nt ̚ ɡɛt] or before a nasal stop, as in [doʊ̯nt ̚ meɪ̯k ̚ mi ].

However, as I get more emphatic, more theatrical, I want to release those final consonants. For the ones ending in a voiceless consonant, [ p, t, k ], this is done with a puff of air we call aspiration.

  • [dʒʌst stɒpʰ ]
  • [aɪ̯ doʊnt ̚ ɡɛɾ ɪtʰ ]
  • [aɪ̯ fiɫ sɪkʰ ]

For the voiced stop-plosives, their final release isn’t aspirated. We have to be careful to not extend that release into what singers call a ghost-vowel, a little schwa that is inserted after the release to make the consonant even more audible. You may have heard Southern Preachers used this declamatory style. You want to save that for really extreme situations! Do this:

  • [jɚ sʌtʃ ə snɒb]
  • [aɪ̯m soʊ̯ mæd]
  • [doʊ̯nt ̚ meɪ̯k ̚ mi bɛɡ]

Not this:

  • [jɚ sʌtʃ ə snɒbə]
  • [aɪ̯m soʊ̯ mædə]
  • [doʊ̯nt ̚ meɪ̯k ̚ mi bɛɡə]

Finally there is one other option that people sometime employ to emphasize the final consonant while containing it, and that is to use an ejective articulation (that we mark in IPA with an apostrophe). With an ejective, we close off our vocal folds and then compress the air trapped between the larynx and the closure where we are articulating the voiceless stop consonant. FYI: Beat boxers use this strategy to make ‘ts’ sounds to emulate a hi-hat cymbal. Like this:

  • [dʒʌst stɒp’ ]
  • [aɪ̯ doʊnt ̚ ɡɛɾ ɪt’ ]
  • [aɪ̯ fiɫ sɪk’ ]

Whether you release the final consonant or not is a matter of taste, and it really relates to the environment and context in which you’re speaking. If you really need to energize your speech, fully aspirated and released stops with help increase your intelligibility, even when you’re working outdoors, in a very noisy environment, or performing in a cavernous theatre. Try exploring a text you know and see how releasing final stops affects your sound.

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The Emphasis Recipe

Emphasis RecipeAs the other posts in the Intelligibility Series have very clearly outlined, I strongly believe that intelligibility is a question of balance. Finding the right way to balance the language you speak will go a long way toward making your speech more intelligible. Our language often lacks this quality when we’re overly emphatic, and so finding a way to make our ideas pop out without overdoing it is essential. How do we emphasize a word or a phrase?

Let’s start with a bit of text from a play, and play with how we might choose to emphasize words within it.

BIFF. (With frustration.) Well, I spent six or seven years after high school trying to work myself up. Shipping clerk, salesman, business of one kind or another… and it’s a measly manner of existence. To get on that subway on the hot mornings in summer; to devote your whole life to keeping stock, or making phone calls, or selling or buying…. To suffer fifty weeks of the year for the sake of a two-week vacation when all you really desire is to be outdoors, with your shirt off. And always to have to get ahead of the next fella… And still… that’s how you build a future. —Death of a Salesman, Arthur Miller (1949).

Read the text.   Start by doing it the wrong way, by trying to emphasize as many words as possible. (Oh, it’s just wonderfully awful to do!) Now, try looking for far fewer words to emphasize, one or two per sentence. Read the text again, but this time, notice how you emphasize those most important words.

Let’s focus in on just one sentence: “…and it’s a measly manner of existence.” Let’s assume that you like that word measly as a word to emphasize. (I could be easily convinced that, with the alliteration on manner, you might want to emphasize it, too!) So emphasize that word:

…and it’s a measly manner of existence.

How did you do that? Maybe you gave it a bit of “punch.” Try that: punch while you say the word.

…and it’s a measly <punch> manner of existence.

With the punch, vocally you probably made the sound of the word louder.  The /m/ sound at the beginning might have popped a bit more aggressively, but other than that, it was probably pronounced much the same way as you would if you hadn’t emphasized it.

Loudness isn’t the only way to emphasize a word. Another strategy you might have tried is to lengthen the word.

…and it’s a    m e a s l y    manner of existence.

By lengthening the word, the quality of its meaning seems (to me) to be emphasized. Remember that the OED tells us that, in this context, measly means “Inferior, contemptible, of little value; paltry.”

So far in our recipe for emphasis we’ve tackled the ingredients of length and loudness. The third ingredient is pitch associated with intonation.  To continue our “words that start with L” alliteration, maybe we could go so far as to say “lift or lower” important words… (ok, maybe that’s too far!) In other words, use pitch to make words pop out, rather than generally making your voice higher or lower. So you might try the phrase we’ve been working on, first by pressing down pitch-wise on the word, and then by flipping up onto it.

…and it’s a measly manner of existence.       OR        …and it’s a measly manner of existence.

I prefer the former, personally. There are, of course, other ways to emphasize important words in a text, but loudness, length and pitch are the most common ones. For instance, one could change the vocal quality of a word to make it stand out. On our text you might, far a lark, try out something like some vocal fry (aka creaky voice) or nasality or breathiness on the word measly.

…and it’s a measly <vocal fry> manner of existence.

I find that a little odd, to be honest with you, but you get the idea. So now, let’s go back to the text, and experiment with these four things. I set out the text again, and I’ll emphasize words that seem important to me, though you could choose any word that spoke to you, too:

BIFF. (With frustration.) Well, I spent six or seven years after high school trying to work myself up. Shipping clerk, salesman, business of one kind or another… and it’s a measly manner of existence. To get on that subway on the hot mornings in summer; to devote your whole life to keeping stock, or making phone calls, or selling or buying…. To suffer fifty weeks of the year for the sake of a two-week vacation when all you really desire is to be outdoors, with your shirt off. And always to have to get ahead of the next fella… And still… that’s how you build a future. —Death of a Salesman, Arthur Miller (1949).

You’ll note that I emphasized only the stressed syllables of the words I chose. (I don’t think that these words are better than any others; in fact, I suspect that many of these word choices are poor ones! Making mistakes in this kind of thing actually helps you learn what the line really means, so making mistakes is a good thing.) Not all the emphasized words are very important. Some more than others, some less so. I have probably still emphasized too many words; less is more. Try one more time, in order to explore the idea of how few words really need to get emphasis.

In order to explore pitch, you might make the surrounding text more monotone, so you feel the contrast more. To explore length, try making the rate of your speech fairly even, and then lengthen a word here or there, or speed up through a short phrase. Rush through a less important bit to linger longer on something substantial. For example:

<rush>to get on the subway on the <lengthen>hot mornings in summer.

As always, the key to intelligibility is balance. Take your time, explore language, and seek the path where what you’re trying to communicate is shared effectively and efficiently, not in a belaboured manner. With the right measurements of each ingredient, you’ll have a balanced recipe for your work.

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Strong Forms and Weak Forms

Weak Form meets Strong Form at the Beach

This weeks blog post is about strong forms and weak forms of words and how they help to make the language we speak more intelligible. Weak forms occur on small, less important words (like prepositions and articles) that link the operative, key content words of a sentence together (things like verbs, adverbs, adjectives or nouns). These weak form words are what we call function words, and typically they are words such as:

  • auxiliar verbs am, are, be, been, can, could, do, does, has, had, shall, should, was, were, would,
  • prepositions at, for, from, of, to,
  • pronouns he, her, him, his, me, she, them, us, we, you,
  • conjunctions for, and, but, or, than, that,
  • particles to,
  • articles  a, the, an,

It is worth noting that there are some function words that don’t have weak forms, such as a stranded preposition, as in the example where are you going TO? , where the word to cannot be in its weak form. Function words are closed class items, that is that this limited group of words is exhaustive, and that we can’t make up new ones, whereas open class words (as most content word types are) are invented all the time! See Wikipedia on this for more detail.

These function words have strong forms which are pronounced with their dictionary form—this is the pronunciation we use when we talk about the word. This involves a stressed, full form of its vowel. In their weak form, many of these vowels are reduced all the way to the center of the mouth, the schwa vowel. The indefinite article “A”, is only pronounced with its strong form [eɪ] when we are emphasizing it. Normally it’s just pronounced with a schwa, [ə] . In some cases, weak forms can be reduced by dropping certain sounds from their pronunciation, such as him, her pronounced as ‘im, ‘er. In other cases, vowels are dropped and final continuant consonants like l, n, or m, become syllabic, so words like shall become sh’ll [ʃɫ̩]. Can you work out the strong form of these words?

[ ðə, əm, bɪn, ɪm, ənd, ðəm, ɪz, ðət, ʃɫ, ðn]

So what does this have to do with intelligibility? The basic idea is that we need to find a balance between strong forms and weak forms. Stressed forms are a way of emphasizing words, particularly for function words, so if we need to stress a function word we use its strong dictionary form. But otherwise we don’t use its strong dictionary form and we need to reduce those words appropriately so they don’t stand out. Unfortunately some people are mistaken, and believe that they need to stress these weak form words in order to be clear. Adding emphasis to unimportant function words is a way of making your text less clear, and more confusing. Frequently you can hear journalists or news readers reading their way through a newscast, choosing to emphasize unimportant function words as a way to keep their reading “interesting sounding”. It’s so common that I think most of us have become immune to this strange way of reading aloud! I also tend to hear people who were taught to read aloud as children. Forensics programs teach kids to make presentations, and when they read aloud they frequently are told to elevate articles like the word “the” to their stressed form, “thee”. Unless we mean to say “that particular one”, we should always make this word by using the pronunciation with schwa. It is worth noting that when we hesitate, we do elevate indefinite and definite articles, a and the, to their strong form just before a pause. So though we might say “I bought a dog,” if we hesitated before saying dog, we would say “I bought A… dog” and use the [eɪ] pronunciation.

Casual speech brings with it further degrees of weakening, and, depending on accent of course, expressions like “I’m going to” reducing to I’m gonna or I’ng unna. Ben Trawick-Smith handles this particular weak form in great depth over on Dialect Blog. There are many similar reductions and contractions, like “gonna, wanna, gotta, shoulda, coulda, woulda, oughtaWikipedia’s entry on this topic has plenty of examples of these so called relaxed pronunciations that you might explore. Being an aspect of the informal register, they are part of the way native English speakers converse in an informal, personal, relaxed manner. Intelligibility, in my book, means setting the right register for the context, and often that means using these forms appropriately. L2 learners of ESL or EFL would do well to study these in great depth, as this is often something that sets a native apart from a non-native speaker (NNS). On several occasions I have coached a NNS to “mumble” more, by teaching the words that could be reduced, based on the context.

More formal registers, like those that come with speaking classical text or verse, demand that we avoid these forms. However, they do not require that we avoid weak forms altogether! I recall coaching the voice work on a production of Mary Stuart by Friedrich Schiller, and the director was insisting that the word “to” in all instances must be pronounced in its strong form, as [tu] always, never [tə] or even [tʊ]. The actors that she hired were very adept at giving her what she wanted (which was no mean feat), but their language sounded stilted, and confusing, as they continued to draw attention to words that weren’t important to their message. What had been adopted as Good Speech was merely an obstacle to the audience’s deeper involvement and engagement with the ideas of the play.

Where’s My Exercise?

OK, I get it. I’ve trained you to want an exercise you can apply this concept with! Here you go:

Start with a text you are familiar with. Let’s use the start of the most famous Shakespearean soliloquy of all time:

To be, or not to be, that is the question,
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them.

Try these steps with the text:
  1. Speak the text, making all the words their strong, dictionary form, even going so far as to dial “the” up to “thee”, and “a” up to “eh”.
  2. Explore the text being very emphatic with your point, and emphasize as many words as possible, but not the function words.
  3. Try to emphasize only one or two words per line, and reduce all the function words as much as you can.
  4. Try eliding words together, like “That’s the question.”
  5. Could you get away with a fully reduced weak form (à la informal register) in some of these words? “An’ by opposin’ end ‘em.” How comfortable are you with that?
  6. Now speak the text again, but this time try to find a balance—how far feels appropriate for you in reducing these words from their strong form?

In my experience, many people report that their tolerance to reducing words to their weak form in a classical text is very limited. Part of this comes from the tradition of Classical theatre—that people expect a certain level of elocution associated with these texts, an “extra-daily” approach that goes beyond the way we speak naturally. Overdoing this will also affect the meter, and those of us who feel a responsibility to uphold the structure of the meter will chafe against this idea. But I think it’s a great way of taking note of our expectations of a certain level of diction, and pushing our buttons.

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