Earlier this year a fellow WordPress blogger directed me to new research from the University of Gothenburg in Sweden.
The study — named ‘Kroppens Partitur’ or ‘The Body’s Musical Score’ — monitored the pulses of fifteen choral singers as they made their way through three different exercises: humming, performing a hymn, and chanting a slow mantra.
The authors of the study reported:
“When you are singing, the heartbeat for the whole group is going up and down simultaneously…It gives you pretty much the same effect as yoga breathing. It helps you relax, and there are indications that it does provide a heart benefit.”
This synchronization is thought to be caused by the breathing patterns which the music inspires in the singers.
When they are singing the same melody, they tend to pause to breathe in the same place, and these breathing patterns then influence their heart rates.
I love learning about this research, because it corroborates what human beings have experienced for thousands of years — singing with other human beings is a special, healthy and often uplifting experience.
It also reminds me how important it is to include “sing-along” songs as part of a performance.
Who wouldn’t want an opportunity for a room full of people’s hearts to synchronize?
“Blue Moon” by Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart is a song which Bobbi Carrey and I included in our In Perfect Harmony show in hopes that people might sing (or hum or whistle) along with us.
I have included a version that we recorded with Doug Hammer on the piano at the very beginning of this blog post.
I have long been aware of how intimate singing with another person can be — whether in unison or in harmony — but I didn’t realize that Bobbi and I might actually be synchronizing our heartbeats when we perform together.
I have been been blessed to sing wonderful songs written by other people for many years — as the MP3 player on the right hand sidebar of this page can attest.
And every now and then I have helped to co-write a song.
But it wasn’t until a few years ago, when I bought my first ukulele, that I started writing songs on a regular basis.
The song in the player at the beginning of this blog post is one I recorded using my this ukulele and Apple’s wonderful GarageBand program on my laptop.
I love learning about how other songwriters have created their hits.
Composer Harry Warren and lyricist Johnny Mercer, for example, co-wrote “Jeepers, Creepers,” “On The Atchison, Topeka and the Santa Fe,” and “You Must Have Been A Beautiful Baby.”
Johnny Mercer in the 1940s
And at some point Warren gave Mercer the nickname ‘Cloud Boy’.
As Warren explained, “A lot of times when I would play a melody for John… particularly if it was after a good lunch… he’d stretch out on a couch and just lie there with his eyes closed and his hands folded across his stomach. He was way up there some place in the clouds. Of course, what came out later was just great.”
When asked by his father about his creative process, Mercer once said, “I simply get to thinking over the song — pondering over it in my mind — and all of a sudden I get in tune with the Infinite.”
Many songwriters have expressed a similar sentiment — that they feel as though they are acting as a conduit or channel for something greater than themselves.
Harold Arlen
The lyricist Ira Gershwin said that the composer Harold Arlen would never “approach the simplest musical requirement or idea without first calling upon ‘the fellow up there’ — jabbing his finger at the ceiling.”
I cannot say that I have experienced this phenomenon yet.
I have, however, noticed that lyrical themes sometimes emerge which surprise me and lead a song in a different direction than I had originally intended.
And I have had the inspiring experience of writing a song which gradually became true.
It is called “Can We Slow It Down?” — and I wrote it a couple of years ago when I was working full time at my day job in Harvard Square.
I realized recently when I was practicing it at home that my life has in fact slowed down since I began singing this song.
If you are curious, you can listen to two different versions of “Can We Slow It Down?” — the ukulele + GarageBand version at the top of this page and the piano/vocal version I released with pianist Doug Hammer by clicking here.
I will be singing it plus two other originals as part of a mini-set at a lovely open mic in Lexington — hosted by Nourish Restaurant on Massachusetts Avenue — on Tuesday, November 5, 2013, starting around 7:30 pm.
Steve Heck — a wonderful local pro — is playing the grand piano, and I am singing “Over The Rainbow.”
Harold Arlen
It is one of the songs in a new show about Harold Arlen which I have recently begun performing with pianist Joe Reid.
After Steve takes a piano solo, I re-enter at the bridge of the song (“Some day I’ll wish upon a star…”) and then I hear elevator doors opening behind me.
Three women — friends of Steve Heck, I later learn — appear on stage with me.
They did not realize that the elevator would deposit them there.
I turn and — still singing — welcome them so that I can escort them across the stage and down into the audience.
But as I do this, I realize that they probably love music and very likely know the words to “Over The Rainbow;” so I encourage them to stay with me onstage and sing — which they happily do.
One woman in particular catches my attention because she is adding a beautiful harmony in a great big, belting voice.
We make eye contact as the song builds to a dramatic climax of “Why oh why can’t I?” — each of us singing at the top of our lungs, my microphone completely unnecessary.
The entire series of events lasts less than a minute, and the entire room is happily caught up in the moment.
Afterwards, during a break period, I am asked how I managed to time their arrival so perfectly.
I explain that I had never met them before and that the entire experience was utterly spontaneous — unfolding moment by moment with no guidance other than the lyrics of the song, Steve Heck’s solid accompaniment, and our shared love of music.
Ahh, music!
Ahh, spontaneity!
Joe Reid
I have been experiencing a lot of spontaneous musical moments in the past few months.
Joe Reid and I put together our hour-long Harold Arlen program in one rehearsal that lasted about two hours.
He is a jazz pianist who is very comfortable making music in the here and now.
I brought a bunch of Arlen sheet music to his house plus a rough idea of a song run order.
We double-checked the keys for all the songs, played each one through once or twice, and Joe was ready to take it public.
So far we have performed at two retirement communities with very enthusiastic audiences (and we did get together for another hour-long rehearsal between our first and second performances…)
I also spent many additional hours making sure I knew exactly how the song was originally written, reading several books about Arlen I ordered from my local library, recording practice piano tracks with Doug Hammer, memorizing lyrics, and writing the “patter” to lead from one song to the next.
All of this preparation helps me to surrender to the moment when we are performing these wonderful songs.
Me and one of my favorite MT participants of all time!
I have also begun leadingMusic Together (MT) classes in Arlington and Belmont (a neighboring town where Mitt and Ann Romney used to live).
MT is a very-well-researched and very-well-planned program to introduce small children — along with their caregivers — to the joy and fun of active music-making.
Although participants are encouraged to learn 30 new songs accurately — each one carefully selected to include a wide variety of keys and rhythms — per semester, we teachers are given free rein to be spontaneous and improvisatory during class.
I am sure my training during the past six months to become a MT teacher helped me to go with the flow at the BACA open mic when those three women appeared onstage.
And I have experienced many moments of musical connection with children and caregivers during my first two weeks of MT classes which have given me a similar jolt of delight.
I think this might be what I am supposed to be doing here on planet earth…
The song in the player at the beginning of this blog post is a Harold Arlen/Johnny Mercer classic called “Accentuate the Positive” which I recorded with pianist Doug Hammer during a rehearsal for the “Mostly Mercer” show that singer Bobbi Carrey and I created last year.
It’s a new show called “In Perfect Harmony” with fellow singer Bobbi Carrey and pianist/composer Doug Hammer — in which all the songs include at least a partial harmony somewhere.
Because we have been performing together for ten years — and since one of our favorite things to do is sing in harmony — we have a lot of material to choose from.
The show also includes quotations and anecdotes about the process of collaboration — which for us has involved a great arranger, Mike Callahan.
From time to time we send Mike recordings from our rehearsals, along with detailed notes about which harmonic ideas we think show promise and which need help.
Bobbi and me after a rehearsal
Invariably he sends charts back to us that both improve our ideas AND surprise us with some great new musical impulses.
At the top of this blog post is our version of the Johnny Mercer/Henry Mancini classic “Moon River” if you are curious to hear the fruits of this collaborative process.
Deep breath in.
And deep breath out.
There is something very intimate and satisfying about singing with someone else — whether in unison or harmony.
And since electricity entered — and in many ways took over — our daily lives during the last century, our patterns and habits of singing have certainly evolved…
Rice Heritage Cottage
Crooning along with the radio or a CD or a song being streamed on Pandora or Spotify is great — yet it’s very different from singing with another real live human being in the present moment.
My great grandfather James E. Rice bought this cottage (I think from fellow Cornell professors John Henry Comstock and Anna Botsford Comstock — who was the first woman to become a professor at Cornell University).
James E. Rice was a professor of poultry science at Cornell and had a farm — called the Egg and Apple Farm on Rice Road — just up the hill from this cottage in Trumansburg, NY.
The uphill view from dock to cottage…
He and his wife Elsie Van Buren Rice raised six children — three girls and three boys — almost all of whom ended up owning farms, too, when they grew up and married.
Sadly, however, Elsie died when their youngest daughter was still a teenager.
James ended up leaving the family’s cottage — overlooking Cayuga Lake — to his six children plus their descendants.
And many of his descendants continue to take turns staying there each summer in one- and two-week increments of time.
This summer one of my older cousins told me about songs she had heard as a child from her parents and grandparents — some of which were originally sung by people working outside in gardens and fields as a way (according to my cousin) to pass the time and remain connected with their neighbors.
The downhill view of dock and boathouse…
What a different era — and mode — of human connectedness!
Another deep breath in.
And deep breath out.
Using my ukulele and the great “Daily Ukulele” songbooks, we sang together most nights on the beach around a camp fire — while the younger members of our family roasted marshmallows and made s’mores for all to eat.
Yum!
I could do this for hours — and in fact on the last night I did play without a break for over three hours.
The beach with campfire at twilight…
Music.
Stars above.
Friends and family all around.
Lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore.
Bliss.
THANK YOU for reading — and listening to — this (recently updated) blog post.
Thank you to my great grandfather and great grandmother for their generous foresight in buying this cottage and then leaving it to their descendants.
And thank you to all of my cousins who have pitched in — decade after decade — to keep the Rice Heritage intact and functional for generations to come.
As some of you may know, I recently returned from a sweet trip to visit friends in Shanghai.
Heading out on the tricycle…
They live in a row house on an alley — many of which are being torn down in order to build apartment/condo skyscrapers.
There was lots of eating, biking, exploring the city and making music.
Although there are MANY motorbikes, cars and trucks in Shanghai — as well as a beautiful and enormous new subway system — lots of people still ride bikes.
My friends had several black single-speed bikes and also built a big trike with a yellow rear bed for transporting things and people around town.
There were items for sale everywhere — including fresh fruits and vegetables; live turtles, frogs and fish; and much, much, much, much more.
One of my friends is a wonderful composer, jazz pianist, and teacher.
My friend’s mother checks out a street vendor’s wares…
He and his family have been living in Shanghai for seven years, and a couple of years ago he started teaching music in the school his younger child attends.
I was able to visit some of his classes and was happy to see — and hear — how much his students love to sing.
We even taught them a song that my friend and I had written together — back when he lived with his Yamaha grand piano in a studio apartment above an ice cream store in Allston, MA — called “Let’s Go To The River.”
They learned it quickly and sang it with great gusto.
I was delighted.
A few days after I returned home to Boston, when it looked like my friend’s primary vocal ensemble might be participating in a VIP concert for the mayor of Shanghai, two of China’s top conductors came to hear my friend’s choir sing.
Me walking near the Bund, I think…
They listened to three pop/rock/show tunes, responded warmly, and asked, “What else do you have?”
My friend projected the lyrics for “Let’s Go to The River” up on a screen at the front of his classroom, and his choir performed a rousing version for them.
After class, the conductors stayed to talk about his choir participating in the concert. One of the maestros tactfully mentioned the importance of choosing songs with lyrics that would be apolitical. He suggested “What a Wonderful World,” my friend suggested “Singing in the Rain,” and they decided that a song in Chinese would be great, too.
The maestro again reinforced the necessity of choosing lyrics with an eye to political sensitivity.
My friend didn’t think too much about the maestro’s remarks until after they had left — and he went back into his classroom and saw my lyrics still up on the screen.
Lots of people ride double like this on their bike…
The two conductors had had time to study the message of “Let’s Go to the River,” and my friend realized that it may have made them nervous that he was teaching such ‘subversive’ messages to primary school students — and might even want to perform such a message at a public event.
I have typed the lyrics at the end of this blog post.
Perhaps they are a bit subversive for our ever-more-wired-and-plugged-in-and-distracted culture in the United Stated of America, too!
What do YOU think?
Thank you to my friends for flying me to Shanghai not once but twice during their years there.
Thank you to Steve for giving me a melody many years ago to which I set these lyrics.
Thank you to Kate for her lovely graphic design for the CD — BLAME THOS GERSHWINS — of Steve’s songs which we recorded a few years ago.
And thank YOU for reading (or re-reading) this blog post!
amusicalifeonplanetearth 