[Sidenote: THE VOWEL IN SINGING]
Another point to be noted by the conductor is that one sings upon vowels and not upon consonants; that most of the consonants are in fact merely devices for interrupting the vowel sounds in various ways; and that good tone depends largely upon the ability of the singer to select the best of several different sounds of the vowel and to hold this sound without any change in quality during the entire time that the tone is prolonged. It is comparatively easy to make a good tone with some vowels, but extremely difficult with others, and it is the singer"s task so to modify the vowel that is unfavorable as to make it easier to produce good tone in using it. But while thus modifying the actual vowel sound, the integrity of the vowel must at least be sufficiently preserved to enable the listener to understand what vowel is being sung. All this is particularly difficult in singing loudly, and it is largely for this reason that the vocal student is required by his teacher to practise softly so much of the time. Some vowels have two parts (_e.g._, i = a + [=e]), and here it is the singer"s task to sustain the part upon which the better tone can be made, sounding the other part only long enough to produce a correct total effect.
[Sidenote: CONSONANTS]
As noted above, the consonants are in general merely devices for cutting off the flow of vowel sound in various ways, and one of the most difficult problems confronting the singer in his public performances is to articulate the consonants so skilfully that the words shall be easy to follow by the audience, and at the same time to keep the vowel sounds so pure and their flow so uninterrupted that the singing may be perfect in its tone quality and in its _legato_. It is because this matter presents great difficulty that the words of the singer with a good _legato_ can so seldom be understood, while the declamatory vocalist who presents his words faultlessly is apt to sing with no _legato_ at all. The problem is not insoluble, but its solution can only be accomplished through years of study under expert guidance. Vocal teachers in general will probably disagree with us; but it is our opinion that in choral performance at least, the _tone_ rather than the _words_ should be sacrificed if one or the other has to give way, and the choral conductor is therefore advised to study the use of the consonants most carefully, and to find out how to make use of every means of securing well enunciated words from his body of singers.
[Sidenote: RELAXATION]
The next point to be noted is the importance of what vocal teachers refer to as the "movable lower jaw," this, of course, implying absolute (but controlled) relaxation of all muscles used in singing.
Without relaxation of this sort, the tone is very likely to be badly placed, the sound seeming to come from the throat, and the whole effect being that of tone squeezed out or forced out instead of tone flowing or floating out, as described in a previous paragraph. This difficulty is, of course, most obvious in singing the higher tones; and one remedy within the reach of the choral conductor is to test all voices carefully and not to allow anyone to sing a part that is obviously too high. But in addition to this general treatment of the matter, it will often be possible for the director to urge upon his chorus the necessity of relaxation in producing tone, thus reminding those who tighten up unconsciously that they are not singing properly, and conveying to those who are ignorant of the matter at least a hint regarding a better use of their voices.
[Sidenote: VOCAL REGISTERS]
A vocal register has been defined as "a series of tones produced by the same mechanism." This means that in beginning with the lowest tone of the voice and ascending the scale, one comes to a point where before going on to the next scale-tone, a readjustment of the vocal organs is necessary, this change in the action of the larynx and vocal cords being _felt_ by the singer and _heard_ by the listener. The point at which the readjustment takes place, _i.e._, the place where the voice goes from one register into another, is called the _break_; and one of the things the voice trainer tries to do for each pupil is to teach him to pa.s.s so skilfully from one register to another that these breaks will not be noticeable to the hearer--the voice eventually sounding an even scale from its lowest to its highest tone.
There is considerable difference of opinion as to the number of registers existing in any one voice, but perhaps the majority of writers incline to the view that there are three; the chest or lower, the thin or middle, and the small or head. It should be noted, however, that the readjustment in the action of the vocal cords referred to above probably takes place only when pa.s.sing from the lowest register to the next higher one, and that such changes in action as occur at other points are more or less indefinite and possibly even somewhat imaginary. Authorities differ as to just what the change in mechanism is in pa.s.sing from the chest register to the middle one; but the most plausible explanation seems to be that in the lowest register, the change in pitch from a lower tone to the next higher one is accomplished at least partly by _stretching_ the vocal bands more tightly, and that when the limit of this stretching process has been reached, the cords relax slightly, and from this point on each higher tone is made by _shortening_ the vibrating portion of the cords; in other words, by decreasing the length of the glottis (the aperture between the vocal cords). This point may become clearer if we compare the process with tuning a violin string. The string may be a third or a fourth below its normal pitch when the violinist begins to tune his instrument, but by turning the peg and thus stretching the string tighter and tighter, the tone is raised by small degrees until the string gives forth the pitch that it is supposed to sound. But this same string may now be made to play higher and higher pitches by pressing it against the fingerboard, thus shortening the vibrating portion more and more. The tuning process may be said to compare roughly with the mechanism of the chest register of the human voice; while the shortening of the string by pressing it against the fingerboard is somewhat a.n.a.logous to what takes place in the higher registers of the voice.
We have now enumerated what seem to us to be the most essential matters connected with vocal procedure; and if to such information as is contained in the foregoing paragraphs the conductor adds the knowledge that the _messa di voce_ (a beautiful vocal effect produced by swelling a tone from soft to loud and then back again) is to be produced by increase and decrease of breath pressure and not by a greater or lesser amount of straining of the throat muscles; that _portamento_ (gliding by infinitely small degrees in pitch from one tone to another), although a valuable and entirely legitimate expressional effect when used occasionally in a pa.s.sage where its employment is appropriate, may be over-used to such an extent as to result in a slovenly, vulgar, and altogether objectionable style of singing; and that whereas the _vibrato_ may imbue with virility and warmth an otherwise cold, dead tone and if skilfully and judiciously used may add greatly to the color and vitality of the singing, the _tremolo_ is on the other hand a destroyer of pitch accuracy, a despoiler of vocal idealism, and an abhorrence to the listener; if our conductor knows these and other similar facts about singing, then he will not run quite so great a risk of making himself ridiculous in the eyes of the singers whom he is conducting as has sometimes been the case when instrumentalists have a.s.sumed control of vocal forces. But let us emphasize again the fact that these things cannot be learned from a book, but must be acquired through self-activity, _i.e._, by actual experience in singing; hence the importance of vocal study on the part of the prospective choral conductor.
In conclusion, let us enumerate the main points involved in what is called good singing--these points applying to choral music as directly as to solo performance.
1. The intonation must be perfect; _i.e._, the tones produced must be neither sharp nor flat, but exactly true to pitch.
2. The tone must be attacked and released exactly at the right pitch; _i.e._, the voice must not begin on some indefinite lower tone and slide up, or on a higher tone and slide down, but must begin on precisely the right pitch.
3. The tone must be absolutely steady, and there must be no wavering, no _tremolo_, no uncertainty. This means absolute breath control.
4. The tones must follow one another without break, unless the character of the music demands detached effects; in other words, there must be a perfect _legato_. The tones must also follow each other cleanly, unless the character of the music makes the use of _portamento_ desirable.
5. The singer must feel the mood of each song, and must sing as he feels, if he is to perform with real expression. This is a much more vital matter in song interpretation than the mere mechanical observation of _tempo_ and _dynamic_ indications.
6. The text must be enunciated with sufficient clarity to enable the audience to catch at least the most important ideas presented. This involves not only the _complete_ p.r.o.nunciation of each syllable instead of the slovenly half-p.r.o.nunciation so commonly heard; but implies as well that the sounds be formed well forward in the mouth instead of back in the throat.
If the singing of a soloist or a chorus can meet the test of these requirements, the singing may be called good.
CHAPTER XIV
THE ART OF PROGRAM MAKING
[Sidenote: THE PROBLEM STATED]
In constructing a concert program for either a solo or an ensemble performance, and in the case of both vocal and instrumental music, at least five important points must be taken into consideration:
1. Variety.
2. Unity.
3. Effective arrangement.
4. Appropriate length.
5. Adaptability to audience.
[Sidenote: VARIETY]
We have given variety first place advisedly; for it is by changing the style and particularly through varying the emotional quality of the selections that the conductor or performer will find it most easy to hold the attention and interest of the audience. In these days the matter of keeping an audience interested presents far greater difficulty than formerly, for our audiences are now much more accustomed to hearing good music than they used to be, and a performance that is moderately good and that would probably have held the attention from beginning to end in the olden days will now often be received with yawning, coughing, whispering, early leaving, and a spirit of uneasiness permeating the entire audience, especially during the latter part of the program. The change of etiquette brought about by the phenomenal popularization of the moving picture theater has doubtless had something to do with this change in the att.i.tude of our audiences; the spread of musical knowledge and the far greater intelligence concerning musical performance manifested by the average audience of today as compared with that of fifty years ago is also partly responsible; but the brunt of the charge must be borne by our habitual att.i.tude of nervous hurry, our impatience with slow processes of any kind, and the demand for constant change of sensation that is coming to characterize Americans of all ages and cla.s.ses. It is doubtless unfortunate that conditions are as they are; but since the att.i.tude of our audiences has admittedly undergone a decided change, it behooves the program maker to face conditions as they actually exist, rather than to pretend that they are as he should like them to be. Since our audiences are harder to hold now than formerly, and since our first-cla.s.s performers (except possibly in the case of orchestral music) are probably not greatly above the level of the first-cla.s.s performers of a generation ago (although larger in number), it will be necessary to keep the listener interested by employing methods of program making, which, although they have always been not only entirely legitimate but highly desirable, are now absolutely necessary. As stated above, the obvious way to help our audience to listen to an entire concert is to provide variety of material--a heavy number followed by a light one; a slow, flowing _adagio_ by a bright snappy _scherzo_; a tragic and emotionally taxing song like the _Erl-King_ by a sunny and optimistic lyric; a song or a group of songs in major possibly relieved by one in minor; a coloratura aria by a song in cantabile style; a group of songs in French by a group in English; a composition in severe cla.s.sic style by one of romantic tendency, _et cetera_. These contrasting elements are not, of course, to be introduced exactly as they are here listed, and this series of possible contrasts is cited rather to give the amateur maker of programs an idea of what is meant by contrast rather than to lay down rules to be followed in the actual construction of programs.
[Sidenote: UNITY]
But while contrast is necessary to keep the audience from becoming bored or weary, there must not be so much variety that a lack of unity is felt in the program as a whole. It must be constructed like a symphony--out of material that has variety and yet that all belongs together. In other words, the program, like a musical composition, must achieve _unity in variety_; and this is the second main problem confronting the conductor or performer who is planning a concert. It is impossible to give specific directions as to how unity is to be secured, for this is a matter to be determined almost wholly upon the basis of taste, and taste is not subjectable to codification. The most that we can do for the amateur at this point, as at so many others, is to set before him the main problem involved, and in constructing a program, this is undoubtedly to provide variety of material and yet to select numbers that go well together and seem to cohere as a unified group.
[Sidenote: LENGTH]
Our third question in making a program of musical works is, how long shall it be? The answer is, "It depends upon the quality of the audience." An audience composed largely of trained concert-goers, many of whom are themselves musicians, can listen to a program composed of interesting works and presented by a first-rate artist even though it extends through a period of two and a half hours, although on general principles a two-hour program is probably long enough. But one made up mostly of people who have had very little musical training, who read little except the daily newspaper and the lightest sort of fiction, and whose chief amus.e.m.e.nt is probably attendance upon the picture show,--such an audience must not be expected to listen to a program that is either too heavy or too long; and our judgment is that for such a group a program an hour and a half long is probably more suitable than one of two or two and a half hours. Our feeling is, furthermore, that the "tired business man" would not object so strenuously to attending the serious musical performances to which his wife urges him to go if some of these matters were considered more carefully by the artist in planning the program! But here again, of course, we have a matter which depends altogether upon the kind of music presented, whether the entire program is given by one artist or whether there are several performers, whether the whole program is of one kind of music or whether there is variety of voice and instrument, whether the performers are amateurs or professionals, and upon whether the performer is an artist of the first rank and is able by his perfection of technique, his beauty of tone, and his emotional verve, to hold his audience spellbound for an indefinite length of time, or whether he belongs to the second or third rank of performers and is able to arouse only an average amount of interest. Our purpose in including a discussion of the matter is princ.i.p.ally in order that we may have an opportunity of warning the amateur conductor not to cause an audience which would probably give favorable consideration to a short program, to become weary and critical by compelling them to sit through too long a performance. This is particularly true in the case of amateur performance; and since this book is written chiefly for the amateur director, it may not be out of order to advise him at this point to plan programs not more than an hour or an hour and a quarter long, at first. It is far better to have the audience leaving the auditorium wishing the program had been longer than to have them grumbling because it is too long.
[Sidenote: ADAPTABILITY TO AUDIENCES]
Our fourth problem has already been presented in discussing the other three, for it is because of the necessity of adapting the performance to the audience that we have insisted upon variety, unity, and reasonable length. Many a concert has turned out to be an utter fias...o...b..cause of failure on the part of the program maker to consider the type of people who were to listen to it; and although on such occasions it is customary for the performer to ascribe his failure to the stupidity of the audience, it must nevertheless be acknowledged that the fault is more commonly to be laid at the door of the one who planned the event. A program composed of two symphonies and an overture or two, or of two or three Beethoven sonatas, is not a suitable meal for the conglomerate crowd comprising the "average audience"; indeed it is doubtful whether in general it is the best kind of diet for any group of listeners. Here again we cannot give specific directions, since conditions vary greatly, and we must content ourselves once more with having opened up the problem for thought and discussion.
[Sidenote: EFFECTIVE ARRANGEMENT]
Having selected musical material that is varied in content and yet appropriate for performance upon the same program; having taken into consideration what kind of music is adapted to our audience and how much of it they will probably be able to listen to without becoming weary; our final problem will now be so to arrange the numbers that each one will be presented at the point in the program where it will be likely to be most favorably received, and will make the most lasting impression upon the auditors.
In general, of course, the heavier part of the program should usually come in the first half and the lighter part in the second, for the simple reason that it is at the beginning that our minds and bodies are fresh and unwearied, and since we are able to give closer attention at that time we should accordingly be supplied with the more strenuous music when we are best able to digest it. But although this is doubtless true in most cases, we have often noticed that audiences are restless during the first part of the concert, and frequently do not get "warmed up" to the point of giving close attention to the performance until ten or fifteen minutes after the program begins, and sometimes not until the second half has been reached. For this reason, and also to cover the distraction arising from the entrance of the ubiquitous late-comer, it seems best to us that some shorter and lighter work be placed at the very beginning of the program--possibly an overture, in the case of a symphony concert. The phenomenon here alluded to has an exact parallel in the church service. When we enter the church, we are thinking about all sorts of things connected with our daily life, and it takes us some little time to forget these extraneous matters and adjust ourselves to the spirit of a church service, and particularly to get into the appropriate mood for listening to a sermon. The organ prelude and other preliminary parts of the service have as their partial function, at least, the transference of our thoughts and att.i.tudes from their former chaotic and egoistic state to one more appropriate to the demands of the more serious part of the service to follow. Somewhat the same sort of thing is found in the case of the majority of people who go to a concert hall for an evening"s performance, and although the end to be attained is of course altogether different, yet the method should probably be somewhat the same. Our feeling is therefore that there ought usually to be some comparatively light number at the beginning of the concert program in order that we may be a.s.sisted in getting into the listening mood before the heavier works are presented. On the other hand, an artist often plunges into a difficult composition at the very beginning of the concert, and by his marvelous technique or his tremendous emotional vitality sweeps his audience immediately into an att.i.tude of rapt attention; all of which proves again that art is intangible, subtle, and ever-varying--as we stated at the beginning.
[Sidenote: THE IMPORTANCE OF SMALL DETAILS]
In concluding our very brief statement of program-making, it may be well to mention the fact that small details often have a good deal to do with the failure of audiences to follow the program with as keen attention as might be desired. These details are often overlooked or disdained merely because they seem too trifling to make it worth the artist"s while to notice them; but by seeing to it that the concert hall is well warmed (or well cooled), that it is well lighted and well ventilated; that the doors are closed when the first number begins, and that no one is allowed to enter during the performance of any number; that there are no long waits either at the beginning or between numbers; that unnecessary street and other outside noises are stopped or shut out so far as practicable; and that the printed program (if it has more than one sheet) is so arranged that the pages do not have to be turned while compositions are being performed--by providing in advance for someone who will see to all these little matters, the artist may often be rewarded by a fine type of concentrated attention which would not be possible if the minds of the individuals comprising the audience were being distracted by these other things.
The printer too bears no small responsibility in this matter of having an audience follow a program with undiminished attention from beginning to end, and there is no doubt that the tastefully printed page (and particularly if there are explanatory remarks concerning the composer, style, meaning of the composition, _et cetera_) will usually be followed with much keener attention than one the parts of which have merely been thrown together. The reason for this we shall leave for some one else to discuss--possibly some writer of the future upon "the psychology of the printed page."
CHAPTER XV
CONDUCTOR AND ACCOMPANIST
[Sidenote: NECESSITY OF CORDIAL RELATION]
In chorus directing, it is of the utmost importance that conductor and accompanist not only understand one another thoroughly, but that the relationship between them be so sympathetic, so cordial, that there may never be even a hint of non-unity in the ensemble. The unskilful or unsympathetic accompanist may utterly ruin the effect of the most capable conducting; and the worst of it is that if the accompanist is lacking in cordiality toward the conductor, he can work his mischief so subtly as to make it appear to all concerned as if the conductor himself were to blame for the ununified attacks and ragged rhythms.[35]
[Footnote 35: On the other hand, the conductor sometimes shifts the responsibility for mishaps to the accompanist when the latter is in no wise to blame, as, _e.g._, when the organ ciphers or a page does not turn properly.]
[Sidenote: CHOOSING THE ACCOMPANIST]
In order to obviate the disadvantages that are likely to arise from having a poor accompanist, the conductor must exercise the greatest care in choosing his coworker. Unless he knows of some one concerning whose ability there is no question, the best plan is probably to have several candidates compete for the position; and in this case, the points to be especially watched for are as follows: