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Combined page (2026-10-21). Original draft first (note: its “singing teachers' religions” section appears twice in the original); 6 variant drafts appended below under “Variant:” headings — Roadblocks and Anchors; Stone cutting; The Idolatry of Dogma; Emotional Wreckage; Silencing the Critics; Voice Training Nightmares. Two threads are interwoven here (early “no big deal” traumas, and dogma/religion in voice teaching) — may split into two posts. Edit down before setting Ready to Publish.
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The singing teachers’ religions
The disregard for “no big deal” traumas is only part of the explanation for so much of the world’s unrealized singing potential. The rest stems from the zealous nature with which adherents of one voice method or another hold onto their beliefs. It falls right in line with the old cliché, “If you’ve only got a hammer, every problem looks like a nail.” Many classical voice teachers, particularly those who have had a significant impact on the field, can trace their teaching lineage back to notable figures in the history of singing. Ancestry is interesting. My great-grandfather carved the amazing granite angels in front of my family’s sarcophagus. But if I was carving granite today, I’d certainly use modern tools. Not doing that might relegate me to the early death so many of his peers succumbed to. People have been singing for a long time, and I’m confident that there was a lot of amazing singing in the 15th century, but is that a good reason for me to teach that way today? I can’t think of any other field that prizes such fidelity to ancient ideas. Wait, I can! Religion. In a weird way, teaching singing is to humans' potential to sing; as organized religion is to humans' capacity for spirituality.
| teaching singing | humans' potential to sing |
|---|---|
| organized religion | humans' capacity for spirituality |
| sociological constructs | innate human capacity |
| built on both good and flawed information | pure and perfect by design |
Our experiences in column A fall along a spectrum from amazing to disastrous, and largely determine the results of column B. I have been involved in some form of organized, instructed singing for nearly 50 years starting as a child and I've experienced highs and lows. I’ve seen the fierce adherence to mythological dogma practiced by my peers. And I’ve seen and experienced the damage caused by unintentionally idiotic comments made by well-meaning teachers and authority figures.
Sometimes, this fervent and outdated thinking leads directly to problems, such as when poor advice guides singers to techniques that harm their voices. However, it's often indirect, where singing teachers say things that simply don't feel right or don't make sense. Perhaps you were, or recall, that kid in Sunday school who kept asking the minister direct, logical questions that could only be answered with proclamations of faith. It's understandable that people might feel frustrated when the authority at the front of the room insists that's how it is, and the singer responds that it makes no sense to them. If they trust the person at the front of the room, then they are left to conclude, "Well, I guess the problem is with me. I should probably quit."
What makes a singer?
When considered through the lens of human development, it makes sense to think that anyone's capacity to sing will be at least somewhat determined by the singing that surrounds them as children. We all come into life with the same potential whose outcomes will ultimately be determined by experience. Clearly, genetics play a role. My older half-brother is 6 feet 8 inches tall and was a two-time Olympian in basketball. I am 5 feet 8 inches tall and not a two-time Olympian. There were no negative comments in my youth that stunted my growth to my full 6 feet 8 inches potential; that's just genetics. My point is not that every singer, given the right nurturing, will grow up to be a professional on Broadway or the stage of the Metropolitan Opera. My point is that I can dribble and shoot a basketball. Sometimes, it goes into the net. I've played basketball with friends, and while I may never be the first person anyone picks to be on their team, I can do it and have fun doing it. This should be the baseline. So why is it that so many people claim that "can't carry a tune in a bucket," or are "tone deaf?" I couldn't possibly tell you how many times I've heard comments like these, and I'm not alone.
What un-makes a singer?
It's difficult to estimate the exact percentage of the population who report that they can't sing, but studies have attempted to estimate the prevalence.