Some of us are born with a nice singing voice, but regardless of natural ability there are things we can do that will improve our ability. Whether you’re singing on a stage or around a campfire, don’t be shy about practicing and leveling up. Firstly, whether you’re new or not you should always rehearse with scales. Warming up is important but the reason why singers doing scales is a cliche is that you’re looking to push into the edges of your ability. Just as an athlete works

Certain cities ooze an ephemeral quality of “culture” and it can be tricky to explain exactly why. But then other times it’s clear how artistic expression is woven into the fabric of the urban landscape. Montreal is a city that provides a full sensory cultural experience. From murals in every corner to music in every neighborhood, it’s teeming with art. Or a number of public spaces with shared instruments that provide an opportunity to show off and shimmy. Although I’m not ce

An interesting side effect of this switch to streaming services on our phones and tablets is that I watch TV with headphones on a lot more than I used to. Perhaps for this reason, and also the tendency to watch a few episodes of a series in a row, I’ve become much more aware of sound design and sloppy sound cues. It reminds me of the unusual laugh that sticks out in a laugh track so you notice when it is looped. Here are some examples from a variety of TV shows as I spot tren

I had an auditory flashback whereby I realized why Bowie’s 1971 Life on Mars always felt familiar to me yet not quite right. Because I thought it was my favorite song when I was a kid, but it wasn’t. In fact, it was this French song from 1978 by Hervé Vilard. I think if you listen you can understand my confusion. Not the same, and yet… Nous c’est une illusion qui meurt, D’un éclat de rire en plein coeur Une histoire de rien du tout Comme il en existe beaucoup … For compari

I love music. I love all kinds of music. But music in context. I’m not going to blast you with opera singing when you’re trying to eat your tortellini at a quiet Italian restaurant. Nor should you, I think, depress the hell out of me when I go to a block party on a beautiful summer day. If you are putting a giant slip-n-slide in the neighborhood I want some zippy music to go along with it. I want Rebirth Brass Band music and people moving their feet against their own better j

I’m doing a production of Madama Butterfly and the set and costume design are what I’ve dubbed “impressionistic” Japanese. We hint at the idea of Japan and try to do some things with accuracy, but we’re not attempting to recreate Japanese culture. For example, I’ve learned that the kimono is to be crossed left over right as the other way is reserved exclusively for the dead. This detail popped out at me when I looked at our poster. Foreshadowing, perhaps? Our costume designer

That moment when you realize that Mitzi Gaynor borrowed from Brazilian Afro-Samba. Baden Powell & Vinicius De Moraes “Canto De Ossanha” Both delightful, beautiful, timeless. #music #ViniciusDeMoraes #MitziGaynor #Brazil #BadenPowell #CantodeOssanha #afrosamba

My maternal great aunt Hermine is a spitfire who has always amazed the family with her abundant energy and stubborn streak. She is tiny. Here she is in her teenage years, a sweet slip of a girl, looking smaller than even her father, the jockey. But as is often the case with people, looks are deceiving. This is a woman of great strength and force of character. [1930s Chateau Egurande, France. Hermine & Hector.] You’ll also notice her natural grace and elegance. It’s hardly sur

Governor’s Island, New York City hosted a vintage French carnival this summer. I rode a  Vélocipèdes and took in the sights and sounds whilst considering that these rides existed in 1900s Paris and may have well played host to my grandfather and his siblings. Fête Paradiso – 1900s garb Did these re-enactment types capture the style if the period? I think they might be dressed in too much white. Chardin family holiday snap in France in 1909. Not a lot of white clothing. Vintag

The French have developed a friendly sort of relationship with fleas. Of the many creatures that historically live around humans, the French seem to have a particular fondness for fleas. I had an adored mouse toy when I was a child that I named “flea”; it is not aberrant for a French child to name their toy thus. My toy was a white mouse like this: His name was puce. Oh, hey! Did you notice there’s a color in English spelled the same way? Indeed. The French named that color b

In my family, you can be a physician or a musician, but you can rarely be both. My cousin Sophie Bourgeois is extraordinary for managing the delicate balancing act of running her own dentistry business, raising two sons, and singing jazz. My family, bunch of over-achievers right there. [Sophie Bourgeois with portrait by her aunt, Hélène Baronnie, France 1969] Sophie is my cousin by my great-aunt. Her mother was a dancer and so it is no surprise that she started dancing at onl

The French embraced jazz music very early. It may have been that there was a direct pipeline from the  cradle of New Orleans to the streets of Paris that allowed the music to immediately find roots in France. The French continue to love jazz to this day and it has become an integral part of French identity. Although the French can be as bigoted as any nation, they do seem to practice color blindness when an individual has sufficient talent to “surpass” their roots and they ar

I’m just going to keep dancing while it rains. #MiriamMakeba #happiness #music #Brazil #1970s

Many things annoyed me about the movie Prometheus. In addition to the swiss-cheese plot and irrational scientists the music took me out of the moment. Good movie soundtracks will enhance your experience without drawing attention to themselves. The Prometheus score seems to draw inspiration from a pile driver. It managed to sound like all other generic action thriller soundtracks and yet draw attention to itself. One of the key musical phrases that annoyed me was a 5-note fren

Allow me to reflect on the irrepressibly quirky character of Dean Pelton on the TV show, Community. The work of Jim Rash is superb. The similarities between the Dean and (the-artist-formerly-known-as) Prince jumped to mind last night. Someone mentioned how odd it is for someone like Prince to have come out of a famously “normal” place like Minnesota. This fact doesn’t surprise me at all. Not only are Dean Pelton and Prince both diminutive, pan-sexual flamboyants with a fondne

Pop singing isn’t really singing. I love pop music, don’t misunderstand me here. I love dancing to pop and playing it in the background at home while I’m doing chores. I love bluegrass and funk; that is the soundtrack to my life as much as any classical music. [Cause you can’t wiggle your hips to opera the way you can to funk.] I don’t have time for pop at the moment as I’m rehearsing for a performance of St. Matthew’s Passion. Pop and classical music are radically different

I’d heard that the operas of Richard Wagner are addictive, yet I was hesitant about settling in for six hours of Teutonic posturing. I’ll admit that my friend had to convince me to take in the Met Opera broadcast at our local theatre. It’s not the joy of seeing a real performance, but it would have to do for a Thursday afternoon. I would soon learn why Wagner was Hitler’s favorite artist. [The sound you hear is my grandmother who survived the concentration camp at Ravensbrück