VOCALS
Ron Hawkins is a singer and songwriter from Toronto . His band Lowest of the Low was a fixture of the “ indie explosion ” of the early ’ 90s and along with his solo work and bands The Rusty Nails and the Do Good Assassins , he has released 18 studio albums . For more information , visit him at www . ronhawkins . com and www . lowestofthelow . com
By Ron Hawkins
From the Top of the
Mountain … At the Top of Your Lungs
What does it mean to have a Voice ?
That is , a voice with a capital “ V ” as opposed to a lower-case one .
Is it simply a psycho-acoustic process that begins in the diaphragm and continues past the vocal chords to be shaped by the mouth and nasal cavities and then projected into the air toward the nearest audio receptor ? Or is it a more transcendental process ? Is the brain involved ? If so , then the other revellers , the heart and the solar plexus , better keep a keen eye on this party crasher or else the whole process becomes something more akin to “ thinking out loud ” than singing .
In other words , your voice is not a pistol ; you don ’ t aim it in one direction and fire . A voice is a wave , an ocean of sound motivated and shaped by much larger and less knowable forces . And it ’ s these tectonic forces that determine the upper- or lower-case nature of the voice . Nothing more .
An Intangible Quality There is a beautiful song by John K . Samson of The Weakerthans called “ Virtute The Cat Explains Her Departure .” The song , like “ Plea from a Cat Named Virtute ” before it , is told completely from the cat ’ s perspective . As the story unfolds , Virtute leaves home during a particularly cold Winnipeg winter and hides out in a construction site contending with feral cats and the bitter elements . When her owner comes yelling and frantically searching for her – “ your anger pleading in an uncertain key ” – she hears her name as “ the sound that you found for me .” Virtute recalls “ how I ’ d knead into your chest while you were sleeping / your shallow breathing made me purr .” Still lost , she finally cries out , “ But I can ’ t remember the sound that you found for me .”
That song , and the last line in particular , made me weep the very first time I heard it . And it still makes me well up , if not actually break down , 13 years later – in audiences with countless other weeping souls , at home in my own living room , or with my family on a road trip . Thirteen years later , that song ’ s emotional impact hasn ’ t lessened one iota .
The melody is stirring , sure . The band arrangement rises and falls with the emotional narrative and the lyrics are evocative . But beyond these things , there is something deeper and more meaningful going on .
Sincerity ? Truth ? Je ne sais quoi ? Something bypasses the brain and lodges itself somewhere deeper , in the heart or the soul .
To give voice to something implies to “ lend authority or legitimacy ” to it . Further examples of this emotional weight can be heard in the snarl of Joe Strummer singing “ White Riot ” or the transformative testimony of Nina Simone ’ s “ Feeling Good .” There is nowhere on either the treble or bass clefs to notate this kind of spit and snarl , this declarative defiance .
It ’ s all about intention . It ’ s there or it ’ s not … like a mosquito trapped in amber , embedded forever .
From the Heart This observation doesn ’ t help , you may say to yourself . This is supposed to be a column about vocal technique and maintenance . Fair enough . This isn ’ t a column then ; instead , let ’ s call it a public service announcement .
In the interest of full disclosure , I admit I don ’ t do vocal warmups before I perform . ( I never knew you were expected to .) I don ’ t drink lemon water or refrain from speaking until noon on a tour day . But for over 30 years , knock on wood , my voice has never let me down or betrayed me when I ’ ve called on it .
Back in 1993 , on day one of a Lowest of the Low tour across Canada , we decided to do what any responsible travelling rock band would do : drop LSD and play touch football . Now , certainly that seems harmless enough , but I remember as late afternoon turned to dusk , thinking to myself , “ Hmmm . It ’ s getting a little dark out here …”
Then , BOOM . I was accidentally “ clotheslined ” in the throat by our tour manager . I hit the ground sputtering and gasping and after a while we all realized I had lost my voice . I could scratch out the odd syllable , but for the most part , I could barely make an audible sound . Day one of a 30-day tour is not the time to learn sign language , so as the lead singer of the band , I was forced to talk-sing the shows in a quasi-Dylan-meets-Lou Reed pantomime .
The days got slightly better . We finished the tour , and on my return home , a doctor ’ s visit revealed no lasting damage . My voice , however , had been forever changed . My falsetto was gone , never to return ( so much for the Beach Boys cover band I was planning to start ) and my full voice was left scratchier and huskier than before .
But that trauma lent my voice a certain gravitas , as if it was finally in sync with my heart and soul .
Obviously , this is not a recipe for everyone . Don ’ t try this at home , etc . But my underlying philosophy is : sing from your heart , from the depths of your soul , from the bottom of that ocean … or keep your mouth shut .
It doesn ’ t matter how you get to the top of that mountain . Just get there .
32 CANADIAN MUSICIAN