Happy St. Patrick's Day!
It's also my father's birthday. For those not in the loop, his name is Patrick. Yeah.
Drinkin' Guinness. Yup. Was going to do Irish Car Bombs with my kid brother, him being of legal age and all, but we both got home pretty late, and I'd forgotten that my shot glasses are all in my box of kitchen stuff out in the garage. So I think I'll just pick some up tomorrow and we'll do it then.
Had another voice lesson today, just on tech. Freaky successful. I realised that I have problems making things work if I over-think them, so I was reading the phone bill that was on top of the piano while going through exercises, and it helped me not to get too worked up about what was working. This bodes well for opera; if I function better when distracted, singing while acting is the perfect setup. :P
I think I'm a repressed soprano. My lower range isn't strong enough to support the mezzo theory, and I've never even tried to develop my high range. You know those muscles that sheathe your larynx? You're apparently allowed to use them. I never knew that before. You'd think if would be obvious, but I've always been paranoid about damaging my voice, and I haven't had consistent training in... well, ever, really. So I stay within my comfort zone - i.e., nothing much above the staff - and I've let my high range languish. Now that I'm working with my mother, and we're figuring all this stuff out, it's like I suddenly have permission to be a real singer. I have permission to use the right muscles.
I can't properly express how major this is. I can't talk about it without almost crying. Hell, my screen's blurry right now. The way it felt, the way it sounded, this afternoon, was something I've never experienced before. It's what I always wished singing could be like, and I never managed to get there. I have this instrument that, for years, I haven't been using to anything like its full potential, nor was I really in circumstances that needed or allowed for such use. But it's time, now.
And about time, really. After all, by the time Maria Malibran was my age, she was dead.
Drinkin' Guinness. Yup. Was going to do Irish Car Bombs with my kid brother, him being of legal age and all, but we both got home pretty late, and I'd forgotten that my shot glasses are all in my box of kitchen stuff out in the garage. So I think I'll just pick some up tomorrow and we'll do it then.
Had another voice lesson today, just on tech. Freaky successful. I realised that I have problems making things work if I over-think them, so I was reading the phone bill that was on top of the piano while going through exercises, and it helped me not to get too worked up about what was working. This bodes well for opera; if I function better when distracted, singing while acting is the perfect setup. :P
I think I'm a repressed soprano. My lower range isn't strong enough to support the mezzo theory, and I've never even tried to develop my high range. You know those muscles that sheathe your larynx? You're apparently allowed to use them. I never knew that before. You'd think if would be obvious, but I've always been paranoid about damaging my voice, and I haven't had consistent training in... well, ever, really. So I stay within my comfort zone - i.e., nothing much above the staff - and I've let my high range languish. Now that I'm working with my mother, and we're figuring all this stuff out, it's like I suddenly have permission to be a real singer. I have permission to use the right muscles.
I can't properly express how major this is. I can't talk about it without almost crying. Hell, my screen's blurry right now. The way it felt, the way it sounded, this afternoon, was something I've never experienced before. It's what I always wished singing could be like, and I never managed to get there. I have this instrument that, for years, I haven't been using to anything like its full potential, nor was I really in circumstances that needed or allowed for such use. But it's time, now.
And about time, really. After all, by the time Maria Malibran was my age, she was dead.