The Scientific Method

A few months ago, there was a series of eye-catching ads along Logan airport's security line for JetBlue. "Scientists" of all genders and ethnicities were shown in odd climates together with an IBM Thinkpad. One woman wore a temperature proof suit as she blasted the heck out of the laptop. Another person floated together with it in space. Yet another wildly parachuted with the computer. Not that any business person would normally experience these conditions, but the message seemed to be "we find the limits so you don't have to." Reliability. High performance under any conditions.

Today I caught a glimpse of what it means to test the limits of my own performance. To me, being well-rested is an important and ideal precursor to a good singing day. Sleep gives me an extra smoothness and togetherness in my throat and body, and I have more energy to expend on breath support. Avoiding caffeine is another factor; I can feel my throat drying out and the muscles tightening when I do have some espresso or coffee. So at least for the day before I perform (and preferably longer), I make a point to get lots of rest, stay hydrated, and avoid caffeine as though it's squeezed from brussel sprouts.

I broke those rules today.

We're in the midst of midterms here, and I had a perfect storm of deadlines that reminded me a bit of Steering Committee Meeting build-ups. The weekend saw me hitting 5 hours of sleep a night. By last night, I was down to 3. The only way I'd get through today's paper presentation and midterm was with espresso. I've had more caffeine in the last three days than in the last three months.

Devoid of sleep and hopped up on caffeine, I figured my studio class and opera workshop performances would be a disaster. It was my first time performing Copland's "Laurie's Aria", in which Laurie sings about her wide-eyed feelings the day before she graduates from high school. One of my classmates today called Laurie's sentiment "optimistic fear." The aria requires solid breath support as well as a total surrender to naivete and hope infused with sincerity.

3:00 rolled around, and I stood up to sing in my studio class's medium-sized classroom. To my mind, the notes were nebulously there, but things were very fuzzy. My throat felt tight and dry, and I couldn't hear or feel things the way I wanted. Ah well. Everybody has an off-day, I reasoned. I focused on expression and supporting the sound as best I could.

Much to my shock, my voice teacher commented that I had used significant projection. My sound didn't sound fuzzy to her or anybody else in the room. Yet another reason why singers are half-crazy; what you hear in your own head is never what people outside your body hear.

So I guess all of this is to say that today I learned that I can still sing well even when I'm feeling less than ideal. The differences I sense inside me are evidently much less perceptible to others. And in fact, the lack of sleep may help me "get myself out of the way"; I don't have enough energy to sit there and self-critique as I sing. Knowing I can make it work if I have to on low sleep and high caffeine is invaluable since those conditions will probably roll around again in the future. Not that I'm planning it that way; it's still a really uncomfortable experience for me. But if I'm stuck, at least I have some confidence that I won't flop.

For the record, though, I don't plan to test my singing while skydiving.

~Hope