One of the biggest battles for we singers is with our own ego. Because voice is so tied to identity, we can be so powerfully ego- invested in every performance we do. We conflate our performance ability with self-worth. Every criticism (or even mild correction) becomes an indictment of our Self. We long for validation through our accomplishments. Our voices become the site of vicious self-critique and punishing whenever we feel we haven’t measured up to the standard of some internalized, arbitrary and un-pleasable judge. We can find no shred of value, no grain of positivity, nothing to inspire us to learn, grow, evolve, risk.
Nothing kills more joy in the act of making music than this.
A wise director, confronted with my own ego-based fears about the delivery of a very exposed note in my upper register, once said to me: “it isn’t about you. It’s about the story and the communication of the character. Offer that note to the audience in the service of the story. Make it selfless and unconditional.” And a wise teacher, confronted with my fears of making “bad sounds” during a time of vocal crisis in mid-performance run said: “you can only sing with the voice you have right now. What if you just love that voice, no matter what it sounds like?”
In both instances, this instruction offered me an option to my own destructive (soul-crushing, really) self-talk. Accept what I have. Love it, even. Give it selflessly without expectation. And as a result, in both cases my singing was freer, easier, more expressive, more beautiful.
Our ego tells us a lie that it’s about competition and scarcity. It isn’t. It’s about showing up with an open heart and telling the story. Obviously we must do the challenging work of honing our technical foundation, but it needs to be connected to a place of joy and generosity. Ego is about hoarding and holding. Whole-hearted, connected singing is about surrender.