Yet another line of lyrics from Pippin . . .
I chose them for a second moment from these recent master classes that I wanted to write about – and because I was able to secure this young lady’s permission (and her mom’s) I will use her name as I describe the almost miraculous transformation that occurred in the few minutes that she worked with Matthew Ellenwood, this music theater voice teacher from Chicago.
Olivia, a high school sophomore, sang “Think of Me” from Phantom of the Opera and produced some exceptionally lovely sounds – but was visibly nervous if not utterly terrified to be following in the footsteps of the much more experienced college-age singers who had come before her. It wasn’t evident just how nervous she was until she actually finished singing; at that point, when most singers would have smiled with relief and welcomed the appreciative applause of the audience, she stood there with a grim look on her face and appeared like she might actually cry. I think our collective hearts broke for her at that moment, as we realized that this was her very first experience with a master class – and for it to be in front of a roomful of voice teachers and in the company of singers four or five years older than her would throw anyone for a loop. So as Matthew Ellenwood made his way over to her, there was a special sort of silence in the room- as though we were willing Olivia to relax while wondering what in the world Matthew would do with her.
I know what I would have done. I would have thanked her for singing- told her all that was wonderful about her performance . . . very briefly (and as gently as possible) made one or two little suggestions about things to work on . . . and then I would have sent her back to her seat as the audience gave her another rousing round of applause for her courage in the face of such an intimidating situation. That’s what I would have done.
Fortunately for Olivia, I wasn’t the clinician in this master class and Matthew was not about to give up on her. Far from it. He had all kinds of ideas about how to get her to release at least some of the severe tension that was locking her up from head to toe, and he proceeded to work with her with just the right blend of gentle compassion and optimistic briskness that the situation called for. He began by taking out an exercise strap – a long strip of very thin, very elastic rubber or plastic which evidently gets used in health clubs and gyms. Just by doing some stretching with this strap while she sang, Olivia was able to purge at least some of that nervous energy that was tying her up in knots as she sang. As he worked with her and her singing became much more relaxed and free, I realized that this was a tool that could be of tremendous use when one is working with a nervous or frightened singer who doesn’t know what to do with their tension. It was an exciting revelation.
Sadly, Olivia still looked pretty grim, despite the improvement that that already occurred in her singing- which is why, if it had been me, I would have congratulated her on being so brave, encouraged her to keep working, and sent her back to her seat to the sound of encouraging applause. But luckily for her, Matthew knew there was more progress to be made. In a move that was both daring and brilliant, he asked for some volunteers to come up to the front of the room- and it ended up being four of the young singers performing in the master classes, including my student Nick Huff. He had them line up, almost like a receiving line, and then asked Olivia to sing her song to them – a few phrases to each person before being prompted by Matthew to move on to the next person. These people were complete strangers to her, and you could tell that she was uneasy and self-conscious. And yet, as she sang to them, face-to- face ….. as if saying goodbye to each of them before going on a long trip (as Matthew had prompted her) …… there was a genuine expressiveness on her face that was completely absent before. It was a tremendous, thrilling thing to see, and you could hear audible murmuring of delight in the audience. And Olivia herself looked at least a little bit pleased.
If it had been me. . . you guessed it, that would have been it. But Matthew took it a step further, in perhaps his most daring move yet. Realizing that it had been strange for Olivia to sing to strangers, he asked her to name four of her closest friends – and say why they were special to her. And then, she was to sing the song while imagining each of her friends standing at the back of the room. It obviously took a generous helping of imagination to make that work- and as she did this, she was essentially back to looking out at this audience of scary-looking voice teachers, in front of whom she had looked so terrified just a few minutes earlier. But this time around, she wasn’t nervous-looking Olivia…. she was Christine, and singing with a rich sense of emotional involvement and intensity. It was amazing- and gorgeous- and when she was done, the room burst into its warmest applause yet. And although she still looked a bit ill at ease, she looked a little bit more like she was glad to be there and glad to be singing for us. And I hope that she came away from that master class with a new sense of what is possible with her singing.
And as for the teachers in the room, I suspect that most of us also learned an incredibly important lesson about what is possible for us as teachers. . . even with a student who looks like they would rather be having a root canal than have to sing for us. Matthew Ellenwood’s brilliant work with Olivia reminded all of us in that room that miracles are possible. . . but they begin with us and our belief that they are possible.
pictured above: In the second of the three experiments described above, Olivia sings the end of “Think of Me” as though saying goodbye to Nick Huff. It was so fun to watch her- but also to see the compassion in the faces of the four students to whom she sang. They wanted only the best for her.