I had to take a vocal pedagogy class in graduate school. It was supposed to teach us how to teach a voice lesson. I confess I learned the exact opposite: I discovered what I never, ever wanted to do if I were ever to be a voice teacher, which ironically at the time (1996) I thought I would never be. (Hilarious, I know.)

He said he was very serious about pursing this and wanted to do whatever it took to be a successful singer.  And so we began his vocal training and it took quite a few months for him to be truly comfortable singing. But he fought through the nerves and his voice blossomed. In just a few years, he went from never having sung a note to booking the National Tour of A Chorus Line as the part of Greg!

Once upon a time, I gave a solo recital in Paris. France. This is that story.

I used to joke with my parents that there was no way I could have been adopted (besides the fact that I am a dead ringer for my mother) because I had inherited all their faults and flaws… But of course my parents gave me much more than their problematic genes. Besides their unconditional love and unending support, they gave me their love of music.

I went to get my master’s degree in vocal performance right after college because what did I know at 21? Exactly nothing. Ok, not nothing, but I certainly wasn’t ready to enter the real world, and since I excelled in an academic environment, it seemed like a good next step. And was it ever! I got to work with and learn from world-class musicians and singers, met two of my most influential mentors and made some dear friends that endure to this day.

I’ve been a hopeless romantic since birth. Let me curl up with a good romantic novel and I’m happy (hello, Pride and Prejudice!).  I love romantic comedies: I know every word of When Harry Met Sally. And naturally, I love love songs; a good one will reduce me to tears.

You and you alone are responsible for the precious gift that is your singing voice. Protect and treasure it.

A voice lesson must be a safe place to put it all out there, the good, the bad, the ugly, the embarrassing. If it isn’t, you are with the wrong teacher. And if you are a Musical Theatre belter, or desire to be one, please find a teacher who understands (and preferably likes) that sound and style and how to teach it.

I frequently talk with my students (and frankly, myself) about having the courage to believe in themselves and their talent enough to audition. Interestingly, I have noticed that most of the people I have this conversation with are above average, definitively talented students/singers who, for a multitude of reasons (both known and unknown), feel unequal to the task, unqualified to put their voice out in the world. Fear rules them: fear of rejection, of being found out as a fraud, of failure.

LET. IT. GO. Out into the universe. You’ve prepared, you’ve practiced, you’ve done your best work at that time, in that place.

Opinion is NOT fact.

Facts in singing: correct pitches, lyrics, rests, musical notations, intonation.

But everything else, EVERYTHING ELSE is opinion. Beautiful voice? Opinion. Flawless technique? Opinion. Horrible singer? Opinion. But far too often in the arts, people in positions of power often mistake their opinions for facts and the artist on the receiving end does too. And that can be terribly destructive, both emotionally and psychologically.

When I auditioned for Into the Woods a few years ago, I desperately wanted to play the role of the Baker’s Wife…

But the director had other ideas. Not once did I read for either the Baker’s Wife or Cinderella, or any other role, barring one: The Witch.

You could say Julie Andrews was my first voice teacher. No, I have never had the great good fortune to meet the marvelous Ms. Andrews, but I have been listening to her sing since I was a child and subsequently learned vast amounts about singing (and diction and acting) from her immense talent. So in honor of her 85th birthday this week, I will sing her praises.

Fittingly, an opera singer introduced me to the music of George Gershwin. My first exposure to his glorious music was an album entitled “Kiri sings Gershwin.” That’s Dame Kiri Te Kanawa, international opera star, to you.

I’ve been thinking about my beginnings in Musical Theater and my ten year old self a great deal recently. Even from the very beginning, I was fearless on stage, which is strange because I was, and in many ways still am, a very shy and fearful person. There were nerves to audition, certainly, but for some reason I wasn’t nervous on stage, not while singing.  There was something about performing, creating a character, inhabiting an imaginary world, that helped me transcend my fears and find only joy in the experience.

On September 9, 1998, I got on a plane in Portland, Oregon headed to New York City, New York. I had a purse, a carry-on, and two large suitcases. I had a temporary place to stay in a women’s dorm on 34th Street. I had the possibility of two jobs. And a voice teacher.

I moved to New York City to study with a voice teacher. But not just any voice teacher, THE voice teacher: Cornelius L. Reid

The importance of a great collaborator, a musical scene partner, if you will, cannot be overstated. As a singer, your pianist can make or break a performance, or can at least make your job easier or harder

After watching the film, I had a renewed understanding that devotion to people, ideas, and activities that you love is what life is all about.

I’ve been tired for too long. I’ve allowed myself to be tired, beaten down and defeated for far, far too long. As Kahlil Gibran said, “And God said ‘Love your Enemy,’ and I obeyed him and loved myself.”

Please keep in mind that I am proudly one of those “crazy” singers. We ALL are, no matter how normal one may appear on the outside.  It’s an occupational hazard. So let us begin.