The Stroke Of The Glottis
The coup de glotte, translated as "stroke of the glottis," refers to
the manner in which a note should be attacked. This matter of attack
already has been covered by inference many times in the course of this
book. For, as the effectiveness of vocal attack depends upon the way in
which the air-column strikes the vocal cords, it follows that the advice
constantly given and in accordance with which the entire vocal tract of
/>
the singer should adjust itself as if by second nature to the tone that
is to be produced, each time places the cords in the correct position
to receive the stroke of the outgoing air. It does away with all danger
of the "audible stroke" which occurs most frequently on the very open
vowel-sounds, when the air reaches the glottis too late and is obliged
to force its way through, the result being a disagreeable click; and it
also obviates the defect from the opposite cause, when the air passes
through the glottis too soon and results in an aspirated sound, an H
before vowels, the voice, for example, emitting "Hi" for "I".
Mackenzie remarks on these points that the great object to be aimed at
is that no air should be wasted or expended improvidently; that just
the amount required for the particular effect in view must be used. Too
strong a current tends to raise the pitch, a result which can be
prevented only by extra tension of the vocal cords, which, of course,
entails unnecessary strain. Again, the air may be sent up with such
velocity that some of it leaks through before the glottis has time to
intercept it; or with such violence as to force the lips of the chink a
little too far apart. In either case so much motive power is thrown away
and to that extent the brilliancy and fullness of the tone are lost. The
coup de glotte, or exact correspondence between the arrival of the air
at the larynx and the adjustment of the cords to receive it, is a point
that cannot be too strongly insisted on.
"The regulation of the force of the blast which strikes against the
vocal cords," says Mackenzie, "the placing of these in the most
favorable position for the effect which it is desired to produce, and
the direction of the vibrating column of air, are the three elements of
artistic production. These elements must be thoroughly coordinated--that
is to say, made virtually one act, which the pupil must strive by
constant practice to make as far as possible automatic." Extend this
admirably expressed paragraph to the entire vocal tract instead of
limiting it simply to the vocal cords as Mackenzie does, and it covers
the problem of attack. It is not only the vocal cords that should set
for the tone at the moment the air-column strikes them, the entire vocal
tract takes part in the adjustment that prepares for the attack. It is
indeed, as Mills says, a case of complex and beautiful adaptation.
Therefore, the term coup de glotte imperfectly expresses what the
modern physiologist of voice means by attack. For coup de glotte
conveys the idea of shock, hence creates an erroneous impression upon
the mind of the singer. It is spontaneous adjustment, and neither shock
nor even attack, that creates artistic tone.
"Voice and Song," by Joseph Smith, expresses very well the combined
psychical and physical conditions that should prevail at this important
moment. To be certain of a good attack, the student should first think
the pitch, then, with all the parts concerned properly adjusted, start
breath and tone simultaneously, striking the tone clearly and smartly
right in the middle of its pitch. The book also describes the three
faulty ways of attack: (1) the vocal cords approximate for the
production of the tone after the breath has started, resulting in a
disagreeable breathy attack; (2) the glottis closes so firmly that the
attack is accomplished by an extraordinary explosive effect or click;
(3) the vocal cords seek to adjust themselves to the pitch after the
tone has started, and produce a horrible scoop in the attack. One of the
worst faults in singing, the tremolo, is due to that unsteadiness of
attack which results when the relationship between the breath and the
laryngeal mechanism is not maintained--when the vocal tract has not been
adjusted in time to the note the singer is aiming to produce.
Another writer who has a correct conception of what occurs at the
important moment of attack is Louis Arthur Russell, who says that the
musical quality of a tone is due, 1st, to its correct starting at the
vocal cords; 2d, its proper placement or focus in the mouth after
passing through the upper throat, etc.; 3d, its proper reinforcement
through resonance and shape of the mouth cavities; and 4th, its support
by the breath. While this seems to describe four successive adjustments,
they are so nearly simultaneous as to be one. This is clearly recognized
by Mr. Russell, who says further, that what he has described implies
that the body has been put into condition and that everything is in
order, alert, responsive and ready for the call of the will; that the
whole body is in singing condition; that everything is in tune, and that
the one tone wanted is all that can ensue. The last is especially well
put. Everything has been made ready--psychically and physically--for the
production of artistic voice, and nothing but artistic voice can
result--no click, no aspiration, no tremolo, no wobble.
The vocal tone in its passage strikes against the walls of the vocal
tract. That part of the tract upon which it last impinges before issuing
from between the lips determines the placement of a tone. The singers
should think of the tone as focussed upon the front of the hard
palate--behind the upper front teeth at about the point where the roof
of the mouth begins to curve down toward them. If the tone is placed
further forward than this, its quality will be metallic; if too far
back, throaty. To impinge the tone near the nasal passage gives it a
nasal quality, a fault most common with the French, acquired probably
through the necessity of singing certain French words--bien, for
example--through the nose. When, however, the French speak of singing
dans le masque, they should not be understood as implying that tone
should be nasal in quality, but that it should be projected both
through mouth and nose and not unduly through either. As a rule, nasal
placement should be avoided by all but the most experienced singers, and
even by them employed only sparingly and only for passing effects in
tone-color.
The individual formation of the lips would seem to have much to do with
their position in singing. Some singers advocate a lip formation that
O turned sideways] like an ellipse. The former represents the lip
position of Nordica, the latter of Sembrich--so that, as I have said,
it is largely a matter to be determined by the individual. But the singer
who uses the elliptical position must guard against exaggerating it, as
it then results in the "white voice," another frequent fault of French
singers.
After all, the final test of tone-production, tone-placing and
position of the lips is the quality of the tone produced; and this is
determined at first by the sensitive ear of the skilful teacher, and
eventually by the trained mental audition of the pupil. The old
Italian singing-teachers have been greatly praised because they are
said to have reasoned from tone to method and not from method to tone.
Those who praise them thus, usually intend their praise to be,
incidently, a condemnation of anything like a scientific method of
voice-production. In point of fact, however, the modern physiologist
of voice-production is not an advocate of too fixed and rigid a
method. He, too, proceeds from tone to method, and he goes even
further for his tone than did the old Italian masters. For whereas
they began with the tone as it issued from the singer's lips, the
modern physiologist of voice-production begins with the singer's
mental audition--with the tone as the singer conceives it and to which
his vocal tract should automatically set or adjust itself even before
the breath of phonation leaves the lungs.
With the beginner, the attack should first be performed on the easy
singing notes of his voice; and although this book does not aim to be a
singing-method, but rather a physiological basis for one, it may be said
here that a, pronounced as in "ah" and preceded by l--that is to
say, lae--makes an admirable vowel-sound and syllable on which to begin
training the voice. The vowel-sound alone is too open. An absolutely
pure tone can be produced upon it, but it will lack color. It will be
a pure tone, but otherwise uninteresting. With the consonant added, it
obtains color and gains interest. Voice is indebted in an amazing degree
to the consonants. Sing the phrase "I love you," and put the emphasis
on "you," which, for practical purposes, is a pure vowel-sound. The
emotional vocal effect will not be nearly so great as when the emphasis
is put on "love" in which the vowel o is colored by the consonant l.
This can be explained physiologically. All vowels primarily are made
in the larynx by the vocal cords. The coup de glotte really is
the process of vowel-making without the aid of consonants. This process
of vowel-making is so smooth and open that a succession of legato
vowel-sounds can be produced with only one stroke of the glottis, the
vowel sounds flowing into each other, or each, seemingly, issuing from
the other. Consonants are formed within the upper cavity of resonance,
the mouth, some by the tongue alone, some by the combined action of
tongue and lips. Voice-color being largely determined by the
resonance-cavities, the articulation of consonants in the resonance-cavity
of the mouth covers the open process of vowel-formation and gives color
to the resultant word and tone. Thus, when "love" is sung, although l
is not a strong consonant but one of a small group called subvocals,
it is sufficient to cover and color the open o production.
The easy singing range of each individual voice usually is about
identical with the pitch of its possessor's speaking voice. Training
should begin with the highest tone of the easy singing range. The reason
for this is that the higher tone requires a certain muscular tension
which places the singer, so to speak, on the qui vive to the
importance of the task before him; whereas the greater relaxation on the
lower notes might cause him to regard the problem as too easy. At the
same time the higher note, still lying within the easy singing range,
does not call for a strain but simply acts as a spur.
Kofler gives six examples of easy singing ranges for as many
voice-divisions, and adds to each the qualification "more or less," thus
allowing for differences in individual voices. His easy singing ranges
are as follows:
[Music:
Soprano: G4-E5 More or less
Mezzo-Soprano: E4-D5 " " "
Alto: D4-C5 " " "
Tenor: E3-E4 " " "
Baritone: C3-C4 " " "
Bass: A2-A3 " " "]
Reference having been made to vowels and consonants, it seems proper to
add at this point something about diction in singing. The interpretation
of a song is tone-production applied to the emotional significance of
words. There seems little reason to doubt that the old Italian masters
sacrificed many things, clarity of diction included, to beauty of tone.
This they placed above everything. True, beauty of tone is the first
essential of artistic singing, but it is not the only essential. If song
is speech vitalized by music, then speech, the words to which music is
set, has some claim to consideration. In fact, the singer's diction
should convey the import of the spoken word with the added emotional
eloquence of music.
Indeed, even some of the earliest Italians recognized this. Caccini,
at the beginning of the seventeenth century, broke away from the
contrapuntal music of the church because it made the words unintelligible.
Tosi, who published a vocal method in 1723, a little less than a century
and a quarter after Caccini's declaration, still insisted on the
importance of clear diction. "Singers should not forget the fact," he
wrote, "that it is the words which elevate them above instrumentalists."
But with the introduction into Italian music of florid ornamentation,
which of itself made the words more or less unintelligible, they lost
their due importance, until, as many an old opera-goer still can
testify, a tenor like Brignoli could, without protest, habitually
allow himself the liberty of substituting "la" for the words on all
high notes and phrases, simply because he found it easier to sing them
on that syllable. At song recitals, the words of the songs often are
printed on the programmes. Printed translations of words sung in
foreign languages serve an obviously useful purpose. But when an
English-speaking singer prints the words of English songs on his
programme, it virtually is a confession that he does not expect his
hearers to understand what he is singing to them in their own
language--so rooted in singers has become the evil of indistinct
pronunciation. Their songs are songs without words.
However, there has been an improvement in this respect. The old-time
opera libretto was so stupid that Voltaire was justified in saying,
"What is too stupid to be spoken is sung." But with Wagner the
importance of making the words clear to the hearer was recognized, and
since his works have established themselves in the repertory of the
operatic stage, and modern opera composers, following in his footsteps,
have striven to write music that would express the dramatic significance
of the words to which it is composed, the art of libretto construction
has greatly improved, and composers demand that the singer shall convey
to his audience some idea of what is being sung.
Similar progress has been made in song-composing and song-interpretation.
Just as the Italians formerly strove mainly for beautiful tone-production
without much thought of the underlying word or phrase, so song-composers
strove for beautiful melody--for music that was satisfying in itself,
whether it suited the verbal phrase or not. Now, as in opera so in song,
the relationship between words and music is recognized and the importance
of combined verbal and musical phraseology is insisted upon. Formerly,
interpretation was a matter of emotion only. Now, the intellectual
process, the intelligence that discriminates, the thought that justifies
the singer's emotional expression as that fitted to the words, are
weighed in the balance. Consequently the word must be clearly pronounced
by the singer. Vowel enunciation and consonant articulation--pronunciation
being a combination of these two processes--must be distinct, or rather
should be distinct, since there still is much fault to be found with
singers in this respect.
Much has been said, especially by American singers, about English being
a poor language for song. I think this is a survival of the time when
song instruction in this country largely was in the hands of foreigners,
mainly Italians. Naturally they preferred their own language, and
naturally they failed to appreciate the genius of English. It is true,
as Kofler says, that the Italian language presents few difficulties to
the singer. In it, pure vowels predominate and consonants are in the
minority, and even then many of these consonants are vocal, while the
hard aspirates of other languages, especially German and English, are
unknown to Italian lips. But that which is easier, by no means is always
the most artistic. Ease rarely leads to depth. And this ease of
pronunciation may account for a lack of dramatic grandeur and vigor in
Italian and for the Italian's method of tonal emphasis and vehemence
of gesture. "The German or the English artist has no need for such
extravagances, because the immense richness of these languages--the
great variety of vowels and the vigorous aspirated elements--gives to
his utterance a dramatic freshness and force which are life and nature
itself.
"The English language is probably the one that has been described by
foreigners as the most unfit for singing. Greater calumny has never been
uttered. I contend for just the opposite: That English is the very best
language for an artistic singer to use, for it contains the greatest
variety of vocal and aspirate elements, which afford an artistic singer
the strongest, most natural and expressive means of dramatic reality.
The English language has all the pure vowels and vocal consonants of
the Italian; and, besides, it is full of rich elements, mixed vowels,
diphthongs and an army of vigorous aspirates. I admit that it is not
as easy for singing as Italian is; but just here its true merit and
advantage arise. The difficulties thus forced upon the singer compel him
to study deeply and perseveringly; but the treasures thus unearthed and
placed within his reach will amply repay for hard work. My advice to
American students is: Study your own language thoroughly, and practise
its difficult articulation with the utmost fidelity. If once you find
the application of its forces to dramatic expression, you will like it
for singing as well as I do. But never forget that the appreciation of
a science comes only from a thorough mastery of it."
The truth of the matter is, that each language has its own peculiar
genius for song, and that a vocal composer unconsciously is under the
influence of his native language. Italian music is as smooth as the
Italian tongue; French music has the elegance of the French language;
German the ruggedness of the German; and the music of English composers
also partakes of the characteristics of the language. The highly trained
modern singer should be a linguist as well as a vocalist. As for the
amalgamation of the spoken word with the sung tone--that again is a
matter of unconscious adjustment of the vocal tract; and, not to word
and tone separately, but a single adjustment to what I may call "the
word-tone."