Passaggio

Passaggio: a term used in classical singing to describe the pitch ranges in which vocal registration events occur. Beneath passaggio is the chest voice where any singer can produce a powerful sound, and above it lies the head voice, where a powerful and resonant sound is accessible, but usually only through training.

In not so many words, Passaggio is that space where your head voice meets your chest voice. The space you don’t want to have to sing through because it’s awkward as hell. As an untrained singer, I don’t totally trust my voice to get through it gracefully. 

It’s such a life metaphor, isn’t it? Navigating the space between where you are and where you want to be. The awkward growing-out phase of a haircut. Starting graduate school. Moving in with your partner. Everything about these transitions is likely to be painful.


But you know that what awaits you on the other side is going to be amazing... If you can trust yourself enough to navigate the awkward. If you can muster up a little more brave than scared.

I was pretty self-conscious during my first two voice lessons, despite the easy nature of my voice teacher, Gayanne. I sang in what I call “little voice.” The voice that says, “I’m here but maybe don’t look at me, ok? Let me hug the wall a little longer. Let me keep my coat on a bit before I decide if I want to stay.” 

Little voice is an overwhelming influx of self-judgment, self-doubt, and fear… all wrapped around any part of me that might be useful for singing. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy of failure. 

Outside of singing, I’m not known for having little voice. True to my name, I’m a lioness, a calculated risk-taker: strong, solid, fearless – and probably to my detriment at times. This whole little voice thing is new for me since last year.  Some of it is probably a good thing – tempering my tendency to speak up about anything remotely unjust or ineffective.

Regardless, I have been annoyed at my seeming inability to pull out big voice when most needed. I was dreading the first night of choir when I would have to sing for Will, the choir director. I was pretty scared that I wouldn’t be able to muster anything but little voice.

So you can imagine my surprise when big voice came out for Will. Well, big-ish voice. Somehow I felt more confident and not at all scared. In fact, I actually ENJOYED singing!

I spent the next week way over analyzing the presence and absence of big voice and little voice. Was it because the space was different? Was it because my first two voice lessons made me feel more confident?  Did hearing my friend, Shana, sing before me make me feel inspired?

On my way to my third voice lesson, I sang in big voice and little voice, trying to figure out the difference between the two. As I turned into Gayanne’s house for my lesson, I realized what it was.

Breath.

Just… breath. Air. My body doing something it does naturally, without interference from my brain.

Gayanne said she was happy to hear me focus on something physical rather than be all up in my head as I have been.  And I actually enjoyed that voice lesson a lot more, because I stopped getting in my own way.

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…Goethe said, “Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness.”

During one of our earlier voice lessons, Gayanne and I somehow found ourselves discussing the experience of being in labor. I started thinking about when I hit transition – the most intense stage of labor right before pushing. I remember how concentrated the contractions were then, and how I was trying to hold them off by holding my breath as long as possible, almost trying to will them away. 

My midwife, Claudia, recognized what I was doing and explained very matter-of-factly, “Listen, the intensity of the contractions is what is going to get your baby out. Work with your body, not against it. You need to focus your breath. Push your breath through the contractions.”

In essence, I needed to commit and I needed to breathe. Until I could commit myself -- my breath – I was going to stay in labor.

I feel that way about so many things, but singing especially. Committing my breath, my life force. Trusting that I’m going to hit the note. Trusting I will weather the Passaggio gracefully. And even enjoying the act of singing, rather than critiquing myself every step of the way!

Rabbi Josh and I talked last week about the Hebrew song, “Gesher Tzar Me’od.” The translation of the Hebrew lyrics is, “All the world is a narrow bridge; do not be afraid.” The lyrics were adapted from a quote by Rabbi Nachman; however, the original words were, “Do not let fear hold you back.”

The difference between, “Don’t be scared” and “It’s ok to be scared, but don’t let it keep you from doing what you need to do” is significant: a recognition that what is in your head can be there, but that to cross the bridge, it takes action over thought.

At the core of any Passaggio, any transition, is action. Getting out of the fear in my headspace… not just thinking about the person I want to be or all the reasons holding me back from being that person…  Just taking one step, right now… committing this next breath unequivocally to DOING, no matter how awkward or unpleasant it may be.