Choral Conducting

Philosophy and Practice

Colin Durrant

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2017
• ISBN:
  9781134815739
• Edition: 2
• Topic: Mezzi di comunicazione e arti performative
• Subtopic: Musica

Choral Conducting: Philosophy and Practice, Second Edition is an updated resource for conductors and singers alike, a college-level text for students of choral conducting that considers conducting and singing from a holistic perspective. This singer-friendly and voice-healthy approach examines the rehearsal environment alongside its musical performance counterpart. The author explores what is involved in leading a choral group, examining theories of learning and human behavior to understand the impact choral conductors have on the act of singing.

Divided into two main parts—Philosophy and Practice—the text begins with an historical look at conducting, exploring questions of why people sing and why they sing together, and ultimately presents the application of this philosophy, showing how a conductor's gestures and patterns can influence vocal outcomes. In addressing how singers learn and respond to choral music, as well as how conductors communicate with singers in rehearsal and performance, Choral Conducting turns an eye to learning how we learn and the role successful choral conductors play in motivating singers, developing healthy singing habits, and improving individual and ensemble vocal quality—all with the aims of enhancing musical understanding.

New to this edition:

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• Updated diagrams, photos, and musical examples

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• Revised sample choral programs

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• Increased consideration of the orchestral conductor

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• A renewed focus on the intersections of learning, health and well-being, and the social perspective, supported by new and recent research

Part I
Philosophy

1
Swimming With the Tide

We are all born conductors and gradually lose the ability over the rest of our lives.

—Bernard Mac Laverty, Grace Notes

I suppose we could say the same thing about swimming that Bernard Laverty said about conducting. I used to pride myself on being a good swimmer, generally confident and fast. Some years ago, at my regular early morning swims at the local pool, I swam in the fast lane. I knew the other swimmers who I could overtake and I recognized the (fewer) swimmers who would regularly and swiftly overtake me. I swam at a pace I had established over time, knowing that I could, at my best, swim a mile in 37 minutes, and I often competed (discreetly, you understand, as I am not a competitive person) against myself and the other swimmers. Generally, at the end of each session, the adrenaline and pleasurable sensations were pumping through my body, as well as my mind, because I knew that exercise has immense benefits physically and psychologically. I was “programmed” into swimming in this way, but also programmed into a number of suspect swimming habits.

It was not until I joined a new health club and was invited to join an “advanced” swimmers group that I realized that there is more to swimming than just keeping pace or going as fast or for as long as you can. First, I was surprised that Steve, the instructor, asked me to join this particular group, but it should be understood that many people of all ages are very wary of water and do not consider themselves to be swimmers at all. (Do you see any connections between swimming and singing yet?) Some are afraid to put the face under water and some simply don’t want to get their hair wet. Second, I was surprised (and relieved) that these sessions were not about swimming fast or racing; we were not, after all, training for the Olympics.

What Steve wanted to teach us was to be in control of our swimming through understanding our movements holistically. We concentrated on making each stroke as efficient as possible; we tried to dispense with wasted energy and concentrate the power of each stroke where it really mattered. We also looked at the whole body: stretching the back; making appropriate movement of the hips and torso; keeping the head in line with the back and under the water. I soon realized that the power of each stroke depends on what the swimmer does under the water, not on top of it. Swiftness comes not from making a big splash, but from gliding as smoothly as possible with the energy being driven underneath.

We addressed issues such as how much the head needed to move in order to take in sufficient breath, and analyzed whether a particular style needed emphasis on the arms or the legs. Early each Tuesday morning, the group of three or four swimmers was challenged in some way; some days it felt like a good workout, other days we concentrated more technically on swimming style and finesse. We were also encouraged to swim at varying speeds, breathing every two, three, four, five, or more strokes, and to spend time at the end of each session just relaxing, enjoying the water. But each time the emphasis was on feeling good, and in each session, I felt I had improved on some aspect of my technique. It seemed so much more beneficial than merely pounding up and down the lane at a predetermined and consistent speed. But, habits are quite difficult to modify.

Now, with regular swimming sessions with the group, I was becoming an even more confident swimmer; I was not necessarily faster, but certainly more effective and efficient and, as video footage revealed, less frantic and more aesthetically pleasing in my body movement. It was after a number of these sessions and following the publication of Steve’s book The Art of Swimming¹ that I began to connect what I had been doing in swimming with my own research and practice in conducting. Using the principles of the Alexander technique, a body movement technique developed by Frederick Matthias Alexander, Steve approached the teaching of swimming in the same way that I taught conducting to my students. Some of the Alexander principles are as appropriate to conducting as they are to swimming (indeed, many musicians, actors, and other performers find the Alexander technique immensely beneficial). Just as swimming is not just about getting to the other end of the pool or the ocean, so conducting is not just about getting through a piece of music. Both are concerned with people and getting the best performance from them. Whether it is in the water or in the choral rehearsal room, people will perform better if they feel good about what they are doing, and if they feel they are building their skills through encouragement, support, and challenge. And I am sure this principle applies to many other activities beyond swimming and conducting singers.

In this book, I wish to explore aspects of learning, musical encounter, and communication, examining the entire singing and conducting phenomenon (for it is a phenomenon) from a holistic standpoint. There are probably as many texts on the conducting beat patterns as, I am sure, there are on swimming strokes and styles. My intention is to address how singers learn and respond to choral music as well as how conductors communicate with singers through their teaching and conducting. In particular, I approach the subject in a manner that is singer-friendly, voice-healthy, and energy-efficient, and that deals with the conductor in the choral rehearsal as well as in the final performance: the learning as well as the performing environment. After all, it is here that most of the important work is done. In fact, learning and looking at how we learn are a prime focus of the book.

I believe that the choral conductor can have a real impact on singing and singing development through motivating singers, developing healthy singing, improving individual and ensemble vocal quality, and enhancing singers’ (and their own) musical understanding. I will not deal with conducting in isolation from singing or from the human element that is key to effective communication. The belief that the conductor should know about the functioning of the voice as well as the music is paramount. But also pervading the text is the belief that the conductor should know what makes people tick: what makes them learn, what motivates and sustains them. While not pretending that this book is about psychology, I discuss psychological issues that conductors and teachers should examine. I hope to persuade readers to delve a little into the mind. But overall, I am not attempting to present the psychology of conducting, rather a philosophy of choral conducting alongside its practice.

To return to basic principles: just as swimmers need to feel comfortable in the water, so will choral conductors in the conducting situation—rehearsal and performance. Conductors need to feel comfortable with moving the body in what may appear to be an abstract form. They will need to make their singers comfortable with singing. Just as the movements of the swimmer generate energy, so do the movements of the conductor; this energy is transmitted to the singers. Just as the movements of the swimmer can be refined to produce grace, speed, and relaxation, so can the movements of the conductor to produce similar characteristics in their music making with singers. That swimmers’ body movements influence their progress through the water is probably obvious to the onlooker; less obvious, perhaps, is the impact of conductors’ body movements on the music created by the singers.

Research has shown that most people respond primarily to visual images or “other-than-conscious” forms of communication. Body language gives such a lot of information that is not and cannot be put into words. Those involved in teaching will know how to read a student’s attitude, often by means other than the spoken word. Signs are given and statements are made by facial expression, the way we sit, the way arms are placed, and so on. So the nature of conductors’ communication conveys messages to singers, not just the beat patterns or the verbal instructions, but facial expressions, eye contact, and numerous other-than-conscious forms of communication. Gestures can communicate messages not only about tempo, dynamics, and phrase shaping, but also more subliminal messages about vocal production, timbre, and quality. The shape of conductors’ hands, for example, can influence the shape of the singers’ mouths and, consequently, the vocal outcomes.

Despite the importance for a conductor to understand the many elements that go into good conducting, many people who conduct, whether in churches, schools, or in the wider community, have had no formal (or informal, for that matter) training in conducting. Such a situation would be inconceivable for, say, an organist, clarinetist, or solo singer. Many people unfortunately put themselves in front of singers, whether amateur or professional, with very little idea about their potential as conductors and very little vocal knowledge. One purpose of this book is to bridge this gap. A book per se cannot replace the practical teaching situation and context, but this one aims to reveal some of the issues that make a conductor effective or ineffective. It will address those issues that should be the concern of conductors of choirs in churches, local choral societies, or community choirs, and especially those conducting and promoting choral and vocal activity in schools. This is not a text on conducting patterns, or on score preparation or choosing repertoire; such issues will not be ignored, as they are indeed important, but can be referenced and resourced more fully elsewhere. The implications of this book extend beyond the choral conducting activity into the wider world of musical encounter and communication.

Another aspect of the choral conducting phenomenon is much more complex and difficult to write about. There is, I believe, a spiritual dimension to our work as conductors and educators that we should not ignore. We can lift people out of their ordinary lives through their engagement with music into a realm that is often beyond the ordinary. Through beautiful singing, we can confirm our beliefs, express our innermost souls, and deal with emotional issues in ways that are not possible with words. Conductors have the capacity to enrich the lives of those they conduct; people can escape through singing and take part in something that is not mundane, earthly, or functional. It can take us beyond the stars. Music, after all, can move us, scare us, bring us together, and express what we cannot tell. It is, as the philosopher Suzanne Langer puts it, “a tonal analogue of emotive life.”² Conductors help us to connect the creations of composers to our own lives. Through the understanding of and insight into the expressive content and dimensions of the music they are conducting, and by translating that for the people they conduct, and in turn for their audiences, conductors can affect and transform the responses and emotional lives of those who engage in the music. Wow, what a responsibility!

Conductors also have the capacity, however, to damage people physically, psychologically, and emotionally. There are, unfortunately, enough examples among professional and amateur musicians to illustrate this. An inappropriate criticism, comment, or even gesture can have lasting impression: we probably all know of someone who has been told by a teacher or conductor that they can’t sing. An attitude that assumes superiority and domination may not engender warmth of feeling or a desire to make expressive and beautiful music in the performers. Conductors can induce tension and stress, big time. They can be very un-spiritual.

Understanding this potential is central to the belief that conductors can make a difference. I believe this wholeheartedly; otherwise I would not be writing this book, conducting choirs, or teaching people to conduct. So this is not a quick-fix, how-to text that neglects the people we conduct with all their hang-ups, self-perceptions, and emotional lives. As an educator, I wish to go from where people are; as a musician, I want to create the best; as both musician and educator, I want to enable people to create the best. But how we connect the two roles is vital. When taking over new choirs, I generally suggest to the singers that, rather than me indicate the sort of sound that I wanted, we wait to see and hear what sort of sound evolves: that we allow the sound to evolve. By exploring and experimenting, and by varying the placements of the singers so that they listen, nurture, and refine their singing, all contribute to that evolution and thus have ownership of it. The singers then develop trust in each other and in me. I could well state that I want everyone to sing in a particular way—straight tone, no vibrato, “just like this”—which, were I a musicologist, might have been preferable. However, that might be at the expense of creating a vibrant, expressive, and cohesive group whose members each bring their individuality to the choir, but who also have learned how to sing in a blended, focused, and expressive way and who work and sing together as a group. So, as you will see, at the beginning of the book I look at the nature of human behavior and the nature of human learning to see if there is a connection to be made for the choral conductor.

While it is clear that there are many choirs large and small around the globe that perform to a high standard, there is evidence that singing at local schools, churches, and communities could be improved or revitalized. There are a variety of methods and strategies for conductors to improve the singing of their choirs, some of which will be dealt with in the course of this book. One significant way to improve choral singing is undoubtedly to concentrate, in the first instance, on the conductors and teachers themselves, and the knowledge and skills necessary for these people to become accepting of and effective in their roles. Let us first define the term “conductor” or at least give an operational definition. For the purposes of this book, the term will be used to refer to all those who lead, direct, or conduct singing in rehearsal and performance in any context, be it in the elementary school classroom or a large choir in an impressive concert hall. The conductor, for our purposes, moves away from the dictatorial male figure often caricatured standing on the podium with white hair (or not much) and arms madly waving abo...