I want you to sing with satisfaction in mind. Do it on “ah”.
I did what I had to do. My teacher played a little higher on the piano. I did it again. “I can hear you, but I can’t see anything in your eyes. Where is your happiness in singing?” Pitted in the spotlight, I let myself go by pretending to be happy. It is so difficult to exult. The sound coming out of my body seemed to satisfy Vincent.
“Now think of the mystery, of what subjugates you, surprises you. Sing it on “oh”. Good Lord. I quickly saw where he wanted to take me, like “if you want to sing, my man, you’re going to leave the realms of the intellect.”
I, who easily drape myself in passions, quickly realized that this was an epiphenomenon of what really boils in me. Moreover, by alternating between the “ah”, the “oh”, singing them sometimes in the lower register, sometimes in the higher one, suddenly clung to my throat immensely hot, disturbing, especially destabilizing feelings.
Like a patient Zen master, Vincent tried to bring out this tenor’s voice that he has identified in me. He thinks of no longer insisting on bass, especially since, indeed, when I have to sing an “A” bass or even and especially a lower tone, a “G”, I have the clear feeling of being blind, of not knowing its color.
However, when I sing in the high notes, my voice gets thinner, frightened or tired. I am very comfortable, like many people, in the middle areas. I am so unaccustomed to this freedom that is offered to me in the course, and I might add that there is a frustration to be castrated by all these happy years singing in a choir. I am no better than my classmates, but I am more and more interested in singing what I consider, with the help of Vincent, the true nature of individual singing. I have nothing to say against choral singing. It has its requirements that I am willing to comply with. However, I would like to take the opportunity to be a soloist elsewhere when the time comes.
My tenor voice is certainly still not very a good one. I become a child again, and I probably won’t have time to become an adult. Nevertheless, from now on, I will play the game of happiness, I will pretend to love these melodies so beautiful but with words so foreign to my life. When I have to sing God, I’ll sing vertigo, for a change.
“Ahhhhhhhhhh, ohhhhhhhhh…, then, shall the righteous shine forth as the sun in their heavenly Father’s realm.” If we could change the words, put Nietzsche on… my eyes and my whole being might be more easily integrated…