Behind the Scenes: #25 I'm Still Here - Part 2

A Peek Behind the Curtain: A Solopreneur Produces an Album Recording

Photo by Vidar Nordli-Mathisen on Unsplash

Note: If you haven’t read the beginning of this story, start here (click): Behind the Scenes: #24 I'm Still Here - Part 1.

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Six weeks in from the initial vocal damage, the vocal ulcers had improved a good bit, but the doctor said I still had a long way to go. He said, sounding uncertain, “Hopefully there will be no scarring,” which freaked me out and resulted in a couple of sleepless nights.

What if I couldn’t sing? I did my best to refuse to allow my mind to go to that dark place, as I knew that what we fear manifests itself through our focus on it. I recalled that past wounds I’d had that healed quickly often resulted in scarring, but wounds that took their time about healing did not. So I consciously intended to have slow but complete healing and to expect to be speaking and singing in another six weeks or so.

After another couple of weeks, more sound came out when I tried to phonate, which was encouraging, since that meant that the cords were closing a bit, but the doc urged me to stay silent as much as possible for another couple of weeks to let them heal. He hoped that I might be able to speak soon.

All during this time, my employer was expecting me to teach software classes, and I hoped not to disappoint them. My goal was to heal the cords completely with no scarring, whatever it took, so I determined that I would do what I needed to do to preserve the voice. As anyone who teaches knows, teaching is one of the hardest things on the voice that you can do, so I was not looking forward to doing that at time that was so vital in recovering my voice.

For the next several months, I didn’t know if I would ever sing again, and the doc was not very encouraging throughout that time. When it seemed possible that the singing voice might not return, I had to decide what to do. Since singing was the only thing that gave me pleasure in life, I would not have had a life without it, and would not have wanted to. I decided to wait a bit, and if it was clear that the singing voice wasn’t going to return, I would end my life.

I do believe that if someone has a terminal or painful illness, it is their right to end their life the way they choose to. They should be the orchestrator of the end. I saw my situation similarly, in that I was not making the decision because I was in a depressed state (although I was pretty sad and traumatized by that point), but because I was making a choice to live the end of my life on my terms—the way I have always lived my life. If I wasn’t able to sing, I was checking out.

Finally, the area that he had been worried about had mostly healed, and I had permission to use the voice fully. At that point, I had about 95% of my speaking voice back, and about 50% of my singing voice, but the voice was unusable professionally until I regained a lot more function. Rebuilding it was extremely slow going and often disheartening. So many things that were formerly easy were difficult or impossible, even with concerted effort. It was emotional trying to sing and confronting the things I couldn’t do every day.

Gradually, little by little, the voice returned. I still had doubts, but the hope was beginning to outweigh the doubt. I was beginning to be able to sing again, however imperfectly. It took enormous will to keep my emotions and focus steady. But I didn’t give up.

With a lot of work, the voice returned throughout most of my previous range (except for a small bit on top for which I had no need), but there was a residual “thing” that made gliding between registers difficult. If you’re a female singer singing popular music, although you might remain in low register (chest voice) most of the time, there are times when you need to slide into your head voice and back. This had always been extremely easy for me, and I could glide from one register to the other seamlessly. No more. It was now quite difficult. My usual tricks and vocalises didn’t help me much.

I had not studied with a voice teacher in many years, learning the hard way that finding my own way vocally worked better for me. I was a natural singer anyway, in that the voice was just “there” and didn’t need a lot of training from the very beginning. Now I wondered if working with a teacher might not help me, since I didn’t know what the problem was.

Unfortunately, I chose the wrong person to work with. He was a tenor well known to the major operatic stages of the world. Although he sang beautifully himself, I learned that he knew only how to teach one technique with one set of vocalises for every voice, no matter what their problems or stage of development. Of course, I didn’t realize that until it was too late. I had been left (from initial poor training) with a frustrating vocal issue in high school that I had gradually overcome after college, mostly through my own devices. Now, fifty years later, the new training had given me that problem back! And that, on top of the problem caused by the recent vocal injury, which still hadn’t been addressed, was a lot to deal with.

I felt despondent and desperate. I set about working with the voice myself, finding a way to get myself almost back to where I was after the injury and just before the unfortunate incorrect training. All of that added about six months to my vocal recovery time. By now it was well into 2018.

I had made my last visit to the otolaryngologist prior the final healing of the voice, at which point he said he didn’t need to see me again. Although he said then that the problem area he had been worried about had mostly healed, I don’t believe that it ever did heal completely, and that’s why I still have just a little “issue” in a certain area when sliding between registers. When I say “issue,” I don’t mean that it’s insurmountable or that the listener will hear it. It’s just that I now have to think about technique at a certain point in a way that I didn’t have to do at all prior to the injury. It makes me less free to plunge into the artistry of performing a song without simultaneously considering the execution of technique that was previously natural and didn’t require my attention.

That didn’t prevent me from singing popular music, but it did sap my confidence to know that the issue was always present. Every time I came to a passage where I needed to glide between registers, which is a pretty constant thing in the popular repertoire I previously sang, I worried, and eventually found myself tightening physically and vocally to try to avoid the problem. This of course just exacerbated the problem, and eventually caused a deterioration in my singing overall.

I am beyond grateful that, by the time I had lost so much vocal function from this accommodation that I could barely sing, I was directed to a great voice teacher and speech pathologist, someone well known to big names in musical theater and popular music, and, after taking a good bit of her valuable time to speak with me, she kindly referred me to a most wonderful teacher, Candace Goetz.

By the time I made my way to Candace, as I said, I had developed negative coping habits for dealing with the vocal issue. Candace not only helped me restore a healthy vocal technique, but helped free my voice in a way that I had never experienced. I only wish I had found her twenty years ago!

Now that I had a working instrument that continued to improve, I made a decision: I chose to move ahead singing popular music, and to leave classical vocal music behind, at least for the time being. Although I still found it fairly easy to sing classical music, at my age, which was one that some viewed as a bit old to be singing opera anyway, and with a body that was not only getting older, but had a demanding physical issue, I knew that singing classical music would only get harder over time, and that eventually it would not be up to the rigorous standards of classical music. On the other hand, singing the popular music I loved was something I could do for the rest of my life. So if I were to choose one or the other going forward, it was clear that it made sense to move completely into popular music.

And the decision wasn’t totally an intellectual one. I was leaning more and more into the popular music world and discovering new opportunities there. And I did genuinely love the popular songs I sang.

It was always in the back of my mind that I might go back to classical music. It would have been devastating to me then to think that I could never sing it again. It took me quite some time to come to terms with that and (almost) accept that I might not sing classical music in the future.

I remember many years ago when, due to dislocating kneecaps which were deteriorating, I was told by a doctor that I could never dance again. I truly love to dance (I did a bit of professional dance and choreography early in my life), so at that time that felt quite devastating. For the longest time, I couldn’t go to the ballet or watch a dance performance or go anywhere people might be dancing because it brought up so much grief. After a few years, I was able to watch dance again and enjoy it without crying (much). I still remember the feeling of freedom and expansion in dancing, though, and I still miss it.

I expect it will be the same with classical vocal music. I find that I’m able to listen to great singers now without crying (much). And I still remember the feeling of freedom and expansion in singing great vocal music. I do miss it. Sometimes greatly.

But I’m totally enjoying the full transition to popular music, and to committing myself to a new genre and a new way of singing. Since I no longer have to worry about how what I’m doing technically when singing popular music might affect my classical singing, I’m able to explore different ways of using my low register, for example. It’s fun to discover new things I can do vocally that I’ve never done before, and I feel a bit the way I did in my twenties when I was developing new skills in classical singing.

I’ve always loved the Great American Songbook and jazz standards, and that’s what I’m focusing on now. I struggled for quite a while to find my place in the world as a singer again (and then lost a few more years to the pandemic), but I found a format that’s perfect for the sort of intimate singing I want to do now: cabaret. Once I began to experience the world of cabaret, I knew I’d found my new home.

As someone who is new to this genre, I have a lot to learn. After building a network of contacts in the classical world for several decades, I have only just begun to get acquainted with the wonderful people in the cabaret and jazz worlds. The standards are very different in this music than in the classical vocal world, and I’m learning the ropes. Here I am, post-retirement age (do I dare share that I’m almost seventy?), starting over. But, while daunting, it’s exciting, too!

As I’ve continued to prepare an album recording, the focus of this Behind the Scenes series, I’ve also been honing my craft in my new home of cabaret. And it seems that my primary specialty will be jazz standards of a bluesy stripe, along with some Great American Songbook, a few musical theater gems, and occasional Latin jazz. So there’s quite a bit of repertoire to explore and develop, along with developing my “new” voice.

Starting as a beginner again at this point in my life is challenging. Although I still have some grief at what I’ve lost, I have genuine excitement about what’s to come. And I’ve begun looking forward to my future as a singer.

I’m still here.

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