Zelenz Academy

Monday, December 22, 2014 by Shella Zelenz | Practicing

You can learn all of the necessary techniques, stage presence skills, and master musical knowledge, but until you let go, you will never fully experience what you are truly capable of. Letting go is one of the scariest lessons to learn when you master any instrument. This can feel especially true for singers because singers are the instrument. When something goes wrong on your piano or flute, it is easy to blame the instrument (keys sticking, bad action, etc.). However, singers don't have this luxury of hiding. They are fully exposed at all times.

As such, singers have a tendency to over-sing to compensate for the need for vocal control or they can hold back considerably for fear of what may come out of them. If I were to say there was one magic bullet that I carry in my teaching toolkit, it is the teaching of letting go.

This is especially difficult because music in general is a very complex subject to learn. There are so many things to keep in mind when performing or learning a piece of music. There are external factors that can influence the performance and will always be unpredictable. To choose to become a musician is to dive into the most complex in-depth thinking while simultaneously being fully physically aware and engaged, emotionally connected to the music to fully express its message, and yet the magical key ingredient is to let go when all of those other facets are fully in place.

My one magic trick that I use with nearly all of my voice students who struggle with letting go is to tell them to "fake opera." I say this to adults and small children alike. There is something inherently known within each individual what an opera singer sounds like. When you ask someone to do this, they automatically tend to naturally do many of the physical things they should be doing, but often don't. Simultaneously, they have to get past their fears because you can't be the opera diva and sing like a mouse. It forces them to LET GO.

I encourage them to do this when no one is around so they can experiment with it. Every single one of them giggles and turns fifty shades of red when I tell them to do it. I ask them to do it with me in the lesson. They are often mortified. I sing with them in my biggest opera voice so they don't feel so exposed. It is a test of faith in one's own abilities. The confidence they glean from this one exercise has consistently provided nothing but amazing results for each of the students that embraced their "fake opera" exercise.

So go "fake some opera." I dare you to let go.

Monday, December 15, 2014 by Shella Zelenz | Practicing

I have to admit, I am a very unconventional classical teacher. Of course I expect my students to practice. I uphold high standards for them. However, those standards are based upon a core belief that I have about their ability. I have rarely had a student that I didn't think wasn't capable of great things. The few that I felt were not going to do well either didn't want to be taking lessons in the first place (parents forced them) or they had some form of physical or psychological delay that prevented them from being capable of doing more. That does not mean that students with disabilities have not succeeded under my teaching. They have. Some have completely blown me away with what we were able to bring out in them.

How does this happen? Well, I don't ask them to write down how often or how long they practice. I don't usually ask them unless it is obvious they didn't practice at all, then I merely mention they might want to change that. That's it. No reports. No reprimands. No threats. Just, "well I guess you should work on that." Then I move on to whatever our focus is for the day.

Why do I do this? Well, first of all, being heavy handed when teaching is highly unpleasant for me. If it is unpleasant for me, it is unpleasant for the student. Sometimes unpleasantness can provide good results and I may use it if I deem it necessary, but I rarely find it necessary. What I find more compelling to engage students in wanting to practice is to fully engage them emotionally in the experience of learning music.

They are going to feel something no matter what you do in your lessons with them. They may feel contempt at you or their parents for making them take lessons. They may feel overly excited at the opportunity and burst at the seams to the point that they can't even focus. They may be incredibly shy and terrified to expose themselves. They may feel like you are the first person who has truly ever heard their soul. I try to be the last teacher. They may come in with any of the other previously mentioned feelings, but my goal at the end of the lesson is to make them feel like their soul has been heard.

Once that psychological barrier is broken into, the student will passionately practice far more than they ever would have if given a rigid routine and reporting structure to follow (which in most cases result in the previously mentioned contempt, a rigid belief in crossing x means accomplishment, or fear). My goal as a teacher is to eradicate fear, banish rigid beliefs, and not provide finish lines. It should always be exploration of one's own abilities to full capacity, which can never be fully known. However, if the student feels their soul is heard, what will result from their practicing are performances that transcend the student and audiences alike.

In the end, they move my soul.