When I was young, probably not older than five, I learned to sing harmony. My teacher at church gave little consideration to our age when she invited us to learn the harmony to a song entitled Jesus Once Was a Little Child. The harmony line was simple – just a third (two notes) below the melody, for the most part, and I was hooked. I spent the next ten years singing the alto part in every choir in which I participated. I enjoyed the extra challenge of singing the “less obvious” part in music.
That was when a voice teacher told me I was most-definitely not an alto.
My identity crisis didn’t last long, as I was singing at a level where the soprano part often split into two. I merely opted for the lower one. I even sang harmony to popular music. I got to the point where I couldn’t even sing the melody when asked – the harmony was so embedded in my soul. Sure, I sang solos and tried out for the leads in the school musicals – but my real joy came as part of the ensemble. The boost I got from each compliment on my solos was fleeting. But the delight at joining with other voices in perfect harmony? Soul-stirring.
By the time I reached college, I discovered contemporary a’cappella. I auditioned for an all-female group at Boston University and spent the next couple of years honing the art of imitating instruments. It was a rare occasion to sing the same part as anyone else in our little ensemble. So being able to hold one’s part in relation to all the other intricacies of the a’cappella arrangement proved critical. It required a level of listening I’d not quite experienced up to that point.
I’ve since discovered that my choral experience developed in me a skill that transcended musical talent – the art of listening.
You see, an ensemble is so much greater than the sum of its parts. Even when a group sings in unison, each singer must listen in order to align his/her voice to the rest. Beyond that though, when singing in harmony, one must find the precise note frequency that fits in seamlessly with the others. It is not in sameness but in being in tune that we discover the richest choral experience.
Choirs have a tendency to cater to the lowest common denominator. If members of a choir fail to listen, or if their sense of pitch is lacking, it drags the entire choir down. I can remember occasions where I knew my choir was going flat. I could hear the correct pitch in my head, and in my obstinance tried to sing it loud and clear for everyone to hear so that they would pull their own pitch back up and then graciously thank me for saving the choir from a dismal performance.
Trouble is, singing the correct note while the rest of the choir is plunging downward helps nothing. In fact, it’s utterly grating. So I instead opted to sing in harmony to the existing pitches. Or I’d just mouth the words for the sake of not exacerbating the situation.
Rarely does singing louder force others to listen; rather, it creates greater dissonance.
When each part listens to the others and seeks in humility to align her/himself with them, it produces a singular experience that transcends anything achieved while performing a solo. I repeat, it is not in sameness but in being in tune that we discover the richest choral experience.
Consider an example from pop culture. In the hit song “We Don’t Talk About Bruno” from Encanto, each character sings a unique melody in sequence. They then sing their individual portions intermingled with one another in a delightful composition. This song is not just briliant musically-speaking (you can geek out about it by watching this video). It echoes the critical notion that best performances can be found when individual parts blend in concert one with another. It takes a great composition – but it also requires that performers listen to one another.
So how can we use music to develop the art of listening?
Well, it helps if we start young. It begins by teaching the concept of a steady beat. A steady beat is the one element to which we can bind ourselves in music, despite differing parts. It is fundamental to combining those parts into something beautiful. In the first year of Let’s Play Music, we use our bodies to establish a steady beat for just about everything we sing or play. The rhythms vary, but the beat keeps us all aligned.
Another way we can use music to develop our listening skills is by participating in group lessons or ensembles. A single student learning an instrument who plays only for recitals, festivals or competitions will start to believe s/he is the center of the universe. But a student who is one of several learners will learn to listen to his/her peers.
A student who practices an instrument with the intent to accompany an ensemble will realize that s/he is an essential part of a greater whole.
In Let’s Play Music, we learn to accompany the rest of the class by playing on the autoharp. The accompanist must be sensitive to the class and maintain a steady beat. The remaining students must listen carefully to the chords strummed by their accompanist in order to create lovely music. Students don’t even realize the valuable listening skills they are developing within what appears to just be a fun music class for kids.
Another way to use music to develop listening skills is by learning an ostinato. Teach your child a simple ostinato, such as the “boom-dee-a-da” part in the song I Love the Mountains. This song also works well sung as a round – and that is another way to teach listening and harmony. An even simpler song that can be sung easily in a round is Row, Row, Row Your Boat. The more you sing individuals parts in a round, the easier it will be. And you (or your child, as the case may be) will better understand how satisfying listening and working together to produce harmony can be.
Some of the most joyful experiences of my life have occured while standing on choir risers. Lending my voice to a group singing in perfect harmony has brought tears to my eyes and bliss to my soul. I would like to think that it has translated into other areas of my life as well, including my relationships.
Think of a world where we truly learned to listen to one another.
Imagine a community where people recognized that differences between individuals do not have to create dissonance. In fact, when we truly listen to others, we can align ourselves with them, not necessarily in unison, but in harmony. Harmony can be incredibly unifying, but it requires adept listening. My love for music helped me develop this critical life skill. I believe music can do the same for anyone.