Category Archives: the choir who can’t sing

This October I sent a short questionnaire, Can you sing? to the whole school. More specifically, to all pupils at our senior school, and staff of both senior and prep schools.

*Sorry about the sensational title! This figure comes from a sample of 359 replies [69% of the pupil body returned the questionnaire] but nonetheless it is a significant number of people, and the data makes for fascinating reading.

My initial intention was to discover how many might call themselves tone deaf, and I’ll come to that in a moment; but what has shocked me is this: 44% have been told by someone that they can’t sing. And in response to the question ‘Can you sing?’ (answer either yes or no), 34% said no, they can’t sing.

I wonder how many of those 122 people who say that they can’t sing have come to that conclusion because they’ve believed someone who has told them that, even if it might not actually be true. Of course teenagers can have a tendency to be down on themselves, and so that figure of 35% might be exaggerated: but then again, look at the numbers for our adult population – 31% of the school staff also say that they can’t sing. In a recent assembly the headmaster talked about the importance of developing into the person we want to be, not into the person which other people want us to be. Thought-provoking, as always, but not easy when those around us can have such a big influence on us, perhaps more often than not without us even realising it.

Arguably, ‘Can you sing?’ might be understood in a number of different ways. Maybe the implication here is ‘Are you allowed to sing?’ In other words, do those around you enable you to sing by allowing you to express yourself, or do they, either deliberately or otherwise, resign you to keeping quiet until singing becomes something you ‘can’t do.’

If it’s not bad enough being told that you can’t sing, 56 people (16%) in this sample described themselves as tone deaf. Of those, 10 have been ‘diagnosed’ by their parents, 25 by friends and 10 by …. their music teacher. How depressing. Sadly I know all too many people who have been silenced by those closest to them. Perhaps they think it’s funny, but I’ve seen reactions from boys in the ‘Choir who can’t sing’ which would suggest otherwise. Please don’t ever tell anyone they can’t sing – you might just be sentencing them to a life without all of the richness which singing brings.

Wikipedia will tell you that about 4% of the population suffer from tone deafness, aka Congenital amusia. Don’t believe it. I’d love to know where this statistic comes from – maybe it’s the proportion of people who think they are tone deaf. But I’m up for proving them wrong either way! Of the 56 in my survey, 19 say that they’d love to be able to sing, and 26 describe themselves as ‘hopeless’. From my experience with the Choir who can’t sing and others,  I’d be very surprised if most of these aren’t prepared to permit me to give them a slightly more professional opinion on their ‘diagnosis’.

Not sure when I’m going to find the time to do this, but the plan now is to see as many of these so-called tone deaf people as possible, and to see whether I can bring that supposed 16% down to a realistic much less than 4%. I’ll report back in due course….

I discovered the most amazing audio clip recently, recorded by a man called W A Mathiau. I was so excited when I heard it, because my instant response was ‘This is what I do!’ Each week I see boys in The Choir who can’t sing who have experienced this in some way – the shame of not being able to sing; some sort of bad experience which has stopped them from believing that they can sing. And also I see them beginning a journey towards fixing this, and the joy which this can bring them. Of course, teenage boys try not to let on too much that this is what’s going on, but I get occasional glimmers of it, which is enough for me!

I find this deeply moving, and hope it touches you too. http://www.listeningbookaudio.com/tonedeaf.htm

more here on The tone deaf project

I was a little worried that ‘The Choir who can’t sing’ would be short-lived. I do have a tendency to have ‘big ideas’ which seem exciting at the time, but which soon wane when the next big idea comes along. In addition, someone pointed out to me that once I had taught these lads to sing, the job would be done, so I couldn’t call them ‘The Choir who can’t sing’ anymore. Fair point!

However, the choir is very much up and running this term, and there is as much enthusiasm for it as ever. Granted, the novelty factor might have worn off a little – after all, we have acheived what we set out to do – but that has been replaced instead with a genuine desire to sing. Whereas last year the school were talking about the choir because it was perhaps a quirky idea, now it has simply become a normal part of school life. Each week so far we have had several new boys come along to try out (all of whom have come back the following week), and from my perspective at least, it now appears to be a perfectly acceptable thing for a boy to tell his friends that he is going to ‘choir.’

One of the most thrilling aspects of the choir is that it is perfectly acceptable to come along and not be able to sing! In a regular choir, the person who can’t sing presents all sorts of problems; no one wants to stand next to them, and worst of all, they themselves feel self-conscious and inadequate. Not so in ‘The Choir who can’t sing!’ On the contrary, since most of the choir were once in that position themselves, they know exactly what it was like. This actually makes the choir a very safe learning environment.

At the beginning of each rehearsal we have a short ‘calibrating’ session; I sing a note (something low and lazy so that it’s vocally easier to find) and I then pick out a few of the more confident boys to take it in turns to repeat the note back to me. This not only sharpens the listening skills of everyone present but it also lets everyone know that it is ‘safe’ to allow themselves to be heard. Once four or five boys have had a turn, I find that even the most nervous ones will take the plunge! Of course if someone is miles out then we will have a bit of a laugh at their expense, but deep down I don’t think that anyone is in any doubt that everyone is very keen for everyone else to succeed. At the end of the rehearsal I quite often pick out two or three who are still struggling with pitching, and take them through a few basic skills; again, this might be in front of one or two others who are waiting their turn, and it is fantastic for them all to share in this, and to be encouraged by each other’s successes.

One of the cast for our school production this term, The Pirates of Penzance, can’t sing. He’ll make a great pirate (aaarrrr!) but since practically the whole show is sung, it is going to be difficult for him. Following our first rehearsal this week, I suggested that he come along to ‘The Choir who can’t sing’ to get sorted out! To my delight he showed up today, and I kept him behind afterwards. He’s a fairly typical ‘case’ – each note I sung, however low, he sang back a third-ish lower. At the end of ten minutes, he sang a bottom G, and then rising, B flat, D, G, B flat and then the D above middle C. All beautifully in tune! Not bad for a boy who has never really sung before, because he couldn’t and (perhaps not surprisingly) didn’t enjoy it. I said he should book in for another 10 minute session at some point, to which he replied ‘How about tomorrow lunchtime?’ more

The following quote is taken directly from the British Kodály Academy website:

Singing gives direct access to music without the technical difficulties of an instrument. Singing and active participation is therefore the fastest way to learn and internalise music and to develop musicianship skills. It is also the proof of accurate internalisation of the rhythm and melody. Through unaccompanied singing and active participation a student can begin to acquire skills essential to all musicians: musical memory, inner hearing, true intonation and harmonic hearing. Kodály-trained instrumental teachers regard these skills as pre-requisites for instrumental study at every level.

I regularly encounter young instrumentalists who looked amazed, horrified even, at the merest suggestion that they might sing something. Even more upsetting is when this is accompanied by a look which seems to say “Why do I need to sing? I’m a pianist!”

Reading the above lines more carefully, it strikes me that too many of these attributes are overlooked by teachers and pupils alike, [and who should the blame sit with?] who are perhaps too focused on learning to be in instrumentalist rather than a musician. It may sound harsh, but without that inner hearing, where is the point of reference exactly? In many cases, I fear that there isn’t one. The pupil who consistently counts a bar wrong probably can’t feel the pulse, but how often instead does the teacher try to address the problem with tedious counting exercises? More often than not, I have found in these instances that not counting, and just feeling it – internalising the music – works much better! And the best way to do this is to set the instrument aside for a moment and sing. It doesn’t have to be a lovely sound, but once a phrase has been mastered in this way (and I mean mastered, not just sung wrong, once, to appease the teacher) then the student has a point of reference.

I often tell my piano pupils that their fingers should follow their ears. If they can sing the melody, their fingers are more likely to wander in the right direction because they have a sense of where they should be going, because the ear is in charge. If not, playing can simply become a matter of decoding the dots on the page, and being delighted when the right sound comes out (assuming that they can tell!) Likewise, if intonation is a problem for string players, I suggest that they try singing the line. If they can’t sing it in tune, then what chance of playing in tune? But as soon as the ear knows what is right (and the ear has to be involved in singing) then the student will know if he/she is playing out of tune. Again, without giving these vital skills the necessary attention, playing is reduced to putting fingers in roughly the right place. I have a pupil in our orchestra who used to argue blind that F sharp was a ‘high 2nd finger’, and that was what he was playing, so why was I complaining that he was out of tune?! The fact that the F sharp was in a D major chord, and needed careful placing, seemed to be beyond him. Goodness knows what he was listening to, but I suspect not much! [He is much improved these days btw!]

I dream of Singing Week, when all instruments are set aside and teachers encourage their pupils to study their repertoire by singing it! Perhaps a little miming might be allowed as well…

I’m never quite sure whether I enjoy Thursday mornings! Once again this morning at 8.25am I found myself standing in front of 400+ teenage boys and girls, charged with entertaining them for 20 minutes before the real business of the day starts. Let’s sing! Yeah, right!

In our school the pupils are never hostile to singing, in the way that I remember from my own school days at Wellington, and indeed in taking the occasional hymn practice at Rugby – scary! Docile might be more accurate, or just plain passive. It can take a little while to get them going. This morning I managed it, which got me going for the rest of the day!

I have nailed my colours to the mast in the past two and a half years. The pupils here know that I am prepared to go to any lengths to show my enthusiasm for singing; singing falsetto is a cheap trick, holding on long notes for a jolly long time also does the job, and excessive jumping and wild gestures are par for the course! The frustration comes when, having done all this, all but the converted still just sit there and enjoy the entertainment, failing to realise that I want them to join in!

Singing is a physical thing, and I believe that gesture can really help to persuade the body to get going in the vocal department too. So this morning, entirely unplanned, I suddenly decided that to bounce up and down on our toes might get us going a bit. Great sight, 420 students all bouncing up and down on their toes. And then we sang Thine be the Glory, still bouncing!! The result was amazing; for the first time in quite some while, the Chapel really rang with resonant voices all around [hey, good alliteration!] And even standing still again, it was as if the whole school had woken up a bit and decided to commit a little more to the task ahead of them.

I have a vision of a Chapel where 400+ young voices fill the space with the loud, passionate and uninhibited sound of singing. Standing between me and that vision is teenage inhibition, and not much else I suspect. I don’t think I’m going to  get there, but as I often tell myself – vision first, then work out how you’re going to get there! The Choir who can’t sing has been a hugely enlightening experiment so far – they believe that they can do it, indeed they realise now they can do it, because they know that I believe they can do it. I’m guessing that’s quite simple psychology, but it seems to be working. The big question at the moment is, can this work with a group of 400 rather than twenty something? This morning was, in a small way, a step in the right direction. more