Right to Sing: Stories, Research & Reflection

I can’t say exactly when it started. There wasn’t a dramatic moment, no sudden collapse on stage. Just a small, persistent wobble. A phrase that wouldn’t settle. A note that kept drifting out of tune. I noticed it once, then again, and again. And soon, I couldn’t not notice it. At first, I brushed it off—maybe I was tired. Maybe it was nerves, or the room, or something I ate. But it didn’t go away. It lingered. It embedded itself in my awareness like a splinter I couldn’t reach. And then the questions began. What’s wrong with my technique? Am I doing something differently? Why can’t I control it? What is this? I started recording myself obsessively, scanning for evidence of improvement—or decline. Each listen brought more dread. I could hear the instability, and I had no explanation for it. I didn’t feel tired. I wasn’t singing “wrong.” But something had shifted, and I couldn’t name it. When I brought it to teachers, I hoped for reassurance. Some did try. But others offered ...

                                     Let's be honest: Voice teachers often find themselves walking a very fine line. On the one hand, we're here to help. We offer tools, observations, and suggestions that (hopefully!) support our students with their vocal development. On the other hand our feedback can unintentionally pull a singer into a very tricky space - one where their previously "unnoticed" voice or body suddenly feels questioned or even ... wrong. (What if they were never bothered by that quirky way they make the vowel "Ah"? Or they love that breathy quality in their chest voice?) This is where one philosopher and physician Drew Leder gives us language for something that many of us instinctively understand. In The Absent Body (1990), Leder describes the concept of body dys - appearance. This is the way that the body tends to fade into the background when functioning smoothly, or yo...