Paul Newham - Using Voice and Song in Therapy

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and Song in Therapy
The Practical Application of Voice Movement Therapy
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Using Voice and Song in Therapy
by the same author
Therapeutic Voicework
Principles and Practice for the Use of Singing as a Therapy
Paul Newham
ISBN 1 85302 361 2
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Paul Newham
ISBN 1 85302 592 5
Using Voice and Theatre in Therapy

Paul Newham
ISBN 1 85302 5917
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Using Voice and Song in Therapy
The Practical Application
of Voice Movement Therapy
Paul Newham
Augsburg College
Lindel! Library
Minneapolis, MN 55454
Jessica Kingsley Publishers

London and Philadelphia
First published in the United Kingdom in 199?
by Jessica Kingsley Publishers
116 Pentonville Road
London NI 9JB, UK
and
400 Market Street, Suite 400
Philadelphia, PA 19106, USA.
wwwykp.com
Copyright © Paul Newham 1999

Digitally printed since 2006
The right of Paul Newham to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by
him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form
(including photocopying or storing it in any medium by electronic means and whether or
not transiently or incidentally to some other use ofthis publication) without the written
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Copyright Licensing Agency Ltd, 90 Tottenham Court Road, London, England WIT 4LP.
Applications for the copyright owner's written permission to reproduce any part of this
publication should be addressed to the publisher.
Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data

Newham, Paul, 1962—
Using voice and song in therapy : the practical application of voice movement
therapy / Paul Newham.
Pp») cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 1-85302-590-9 (v. 2 : pbk. : alk. paper)
1. Singing--Therapeutic use. 2. Voice--Therapeutic use. I. Title.
RZ999.N436 1999
615.8'5154--de21
98-50699
GIP
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

Newham, Paul
Using voice and song in therapy
Vol.2: The practical application of voice movement therapy
1. Singing - Therapeutic use 2.Voice - Therapeutic use
1.Title
616.8'91654
ISBN-13: 978 1 85302 5907

ISBN-10: 1 85302 5909
136
Contents
INTRODUCTION: VOICE MOVEMENT THERAPY —

TOWARDS AN INTEGRATED MODEL OF EXPRESSIVE ARTS THERAPY
1 Tales, Myths and Legends

The Archetypal Context of Voice and Psyche 19
From Biography to Fairy Tale

Creating Therapeutic Communion with the Art of Telling 5m
Priests, Bards and Shamans ‘

A Brief History of Singing and Healing 42
From Fairy Tale to Song

Creating Rhapsody from the Themes of Personal Experience 60
The Ingredients of Voice

The Voice Movement Therapy System and the Musical Voice 72
Journeys Through Song

Case Studies in the Use of Voice Movement Therapy 103
APPENDIX 1: THE VOICE MOVEMENT THERAPY SYSTEM OF VOCAL ANALYSIS Ae

APPENDIX 2: FURTHER INFORMATION 140
REFERENCES
141
INDEX
142
This book is for Melanie, whose voice has inspired
tears and laughter and who knows the wounds and the
healing and all the shades between.
Her voice holds the magic of inspiration.
INTRODUCTION
Voice Movement Therapy —

Towards an Integrated Model of
Expressive Arts Therapy
Over the past 15 years I have been developing a systematic methodology for
using singing and vocalisation as a therapeutic modality. On a personal level,
I think the genesis of my work originates in the acoustic cacophony of my
childhood, where the angry vocal yells of my father and the sorrowful vocal
cries of my mother provided the musical accompaniment to my days. On a
professional level, my investigative work began with my search for a way of
developing liberated vocal self-expression in people with severe mental and
physical handicaps who could not speak but who produced a broad spectrum
of non-verbal sounds.
Alone and without a model for what I was attempting to do, I spent many
years crawling along the floor, gurgling, screeching, singing and mirroring
the many sounds which my clients made in order that I might enter into their
language rather than seeking to demand that they speak mine.
I found that with patience and an experimental spirit I could release a
certain amount of muscular tension and facilitate a more liberated use ofthe
voice in people whose verbal proficiency was limited or non-existent. With
this vocal release my clients seemed also to access a degree of positive
emotional expression and an attitude of celebration, as though a certain
anguish had been assuaged. The question then was what to do with these
voices which emerged.
Simultaneous with my investigations into voice with handicapped
people, I was working as a composer and vocalist, drawing inspiration and
influence from a multi-cultural musical perspective. As my knowledge ofthe
world’s music broadened I began to hear parallels between certain vocal
qualities in indigenous singing styles, particularly those of the East and
8 USING VOICE AND SONG IN THERAPY
Middle East, and the sounds made by my handicapped clients. Taking short
frozen moments from a variety of singing styles and comparing them with
short recordings of handicapped voices, I realised that it was often not
possible to tell which was which. I then began to produce performances with
my clients which choreographed their movements and orchestrated their
vocal sounds to create impressionistic theatre pieces.
By combining my artistic research with a study of physiology, I began to
evolve a method for using singing as a mode of artistic expression and
therapeutic investigation with non-verbal populations. But the key to my
work was the use of my own voice as a probe and a mirror. I learned to
expand radically the tonal range and timbral malleability of my voice and use
this instrument to communicate with my non-speaking clients. Though we
could not speak with one another, we could sing — taking singing in its
broadest sense. As my work expanded I was increasingly asked to train other
professionals to make use of my methods and I gradually began to withdraw
from working directly with handicapped people and started to work with
professional care assistants, speech therapists, psychologists and a broad
range of workers in the field of special education.
Because the exploration of my own voice had been so central to my
investigations, my work with these new so-called ‘able’ clients took a very
practical form. I offered one-to-one voice and singing lessons where the
objective was not to produce a beautiful voice but to explore the complete
vocal range, valuing all sounds as an authentic expression of the person.
However, whereas the main obstacles to liberated vocal expression amongst
my original handicapped clients had been neuromuscular, it seemed that my
new clientele were inhibited and constricted primarily by psychological
issues which manifested in various muscular hypertensions that inhibited and
impeded liberated use of the voice. In addition, when I was able to facilitate
vocal liberation, new-found sounds were often accompanied by intense
emotions which in their turn produced new sounds as my clients experienced
a spectrum of feelings from deep grief to tumultuous joy, expressed through
vocal qualities ranging from guttural bass to piercing soprano. I therefore
realised that to progress with the development of my work, I had to
understand thoroughly not only the physiological nature of vocal expression
but also the relationship between voice and psyche. In consequence |
combined a theoretical study of physiology and psychotherapy with the
undergoing of my own personal psychoanalysis.
INTRODUCTION ©)
In order to understand in more detail the physiological process of

vocalisation I needed to observe the internal workings of my larynx whilst
vocalising. I was therefore honoured and grateful when David
Garfield-Davies, at that time consultant laryngologist at the Middlesex
Hospital, London, offered to make a video stroboscopic recording of my
working larynx by threading a fibre optic camera through my nasal passages.
This confirmed that the techniques I was forging not only enabled the vocal
instrument to increase radically tonal range and timbral malleability, but also
they did so in a way entirely synonymous with healthy methods of voice
production. Film of this can be seen on the accompanying video to this book
Shouting for Jericho: The Work of Paul Newham on the Human Voice (Newham
1997). Meanwhile, I began to realise that many of the tenets of psycho-
therapy could be transposed from a verbal to a vocal mode of expression. |
believed that I was establishing the idea of singing as therapy.
In time my one-to-one practice grew to include many other kinds of
clients besides those who wanted to learn the principles of my work in order
to apply it professionally. As my private practice of one-to-one voice sessions
grew, I had the opportunity to apply my evolving systematic methodology of
vocal work to a broad range of clients, some of whom came in the hope of
alleviating physical problems such as constriction, asthma, and stammering,
whilst others came for psychological reasons such as shyness, debilitating
grief or repressed anger. The systematic approach which I had forged from
my work with mentally and physically handicapped people was equally
effective with this clientele and the added dimension of acknowledging the
psychological significance ofthe process deepened the work with all clients.
Though each client brought with them into my consulting room unique
issues which were worked through and explored not through speaking but
through singing, I began to recognise certain approaches, exercises, methods
and exploratory investigations which seemed to facilitate authentic vocal
expression in all clients, regardless of their unique disposition.
Combining the use of my emerging system ofvocal release with a unique
personal psychotherapeutic relationship with each individual client I realised
that I was creating the foundations for a therapeutic modality which
compared to the expressive arts therapies — such as drama therapy and dance
I
therapy — except that the channel of expression was voice and movement.
called this modality Voice Movement Therapy.
At the heart of my work was — and is — a systematic methodology for
interpreting vocal sound. This system distils the voice into ten acoustic
components which emanate from physiological functioning, which provide

a language for describing the voice and which relate to psychological,
emotional and artistic expression. This system is described in detail in my
book Therapeutic Voicework: Principles and Practice for the Use of Singing as a
Therapy (Newham 1997b) and is presented in Chapter 5 of this volume. A
concise recap of the system is also outlined briefly in Appendix 1 of this
volume. Because of the difficulty inherent in attempting to describe vocal
sounds in written words, I have published a set of audio cassette tapes The
Singing Cure: Liberating Self Expression Through Voice Movement Therapy
(Newham 1998) which explain the Voice Movement Therapy System of
Vocal Analysis, giving ample vocal examples of the spectrum of vocal sounds
in speech and song which arise from different combinations of the ten core
ingredients. Details of how to obtain accompanying resources to this book
and access other information regarding Voice Movement Therapy are given
in Appendix 2 of this volume.
Before long, I had more clients and more work than I could possibly
handle. I therefore considered that I could actually reach more clients by
training others to impart the work as facilitators, voice coaches, singing
teachers, therapists, special education workers and community leaders; so I
began running short courses in the techniques and methodologies which I
had forged.
In the summer following the first series of short courses, I became unable
to work due to exhaustion, and a graduate of one of my training courses,
Jenni Roditi, offered to take over my client practice. Roditi did this with
proficiency and skill; and in so doing she verified that the techniques were
indeed grounded and practicable enough to be passed on and administered
by others with equal efficacy as when administered by myself.
On returning to teaching the courses which I was developing and as |
observed graduates apply the work in various settings I began to be
convinced that there was a need for more trained and qualified practitioners
who could use voice to facilitate a therapeutic process which yielded
liberated self-expression in others. | therefore developed the short courses
which I had been teaching into a full professional training leading to a
professional Diploma in Voice Movement Therapy, which is currently
accredited by the Oxford and Cambridge University and Royal Society of
Arts Examinations Board. The major focus of my work is now directing this
professional training in Voice Movement Therapy and teaching other short
courses in specific areas of the work.
“
INTRODUCTION
The professional training course in Voice Movement Therapy provides a

thorough practical, experiential and technical education in an approach to
working therapeutically with the voice which synthesises the physiological,
artistic, psychological and educational aspects of vocal work in a single
strategy. Because of its broad but integrated nature, it has attracted students
from many backgrounds from all over the world. Trainees include musicians
or performing artists seeking to develop their vocal and compositional skills;
psychotherapists seeking to incorporate vocal work into their approach;
speech and language therapists seeking an integrated and experiential model
to complement their allopathic training; freelance peripatetic group leaders
who run workshops and offer sessional work for a variety of client groups;
and many others whose professional intention is unclear but who seek a
personal vocational training which unites exploration of the Self with the
acquisition of technical skills. The diverse student fraternity provides a
particularly fertile environment and graduates utilise the work in very
different ways. Some graduates work with clients or patients in clinical
institutions or in one-to-one practice; some devise performances and lead
experiential workshops; some offer vocal training in drama schools and in
individual client practice; some combine the vocal work with other arts
therapies or with physical therapies; and others work in a way that combines
a number of different models.
Although the designing and teaching of this course in many ways
provided a culmination to my intentions, there was still a missing link. For, on
graduating from the training course, practitioners encounter many complex
issues relating to the practice of Voice Movement Therapy for which they
need further support, supervision, guidance and a sense of being part of a
network. I therefore formed the International Association for Voice
Movement Therapy which is governed by a Code of Ethics and a
Constitution and to which qualified graduate practitioners of Voice
Movement Therapy belong. This Association is in its early days but provides
an entirely necessary forum for the supervision of practitioners and an
investigation of issues relating to the practice of a therapeutic approach to
vocal expression.
In seeking to ground Voice Movement Therapy practically and
theoretically, I have been driven to research thoroughly the cross-cultural
evolution of a therapeutic approach to vocal expression from ancient
shamanic practices and spiritual healing to avant garde theatre and present
day psychotherapy; and my research has uncovered a rich history of
Augsburg Vollege wivialy

investigation into the healing use of singing and non-verbal vocal expression
in many areas and through many ages. This research has enabled me to
develop a consolidated body of vocal work which synthesises the practical
application of principles drawn from a range of disciplines including
psychotherapy, massage, remedial voice training, stress management,
singing, music, ethnomusicology and special needs education. The
discovery of other previous approaches enabled me to understand what I was
doing as the synthesising of fragments emanating from an existing tradition.
Being sceptical of anything which claims to be new and having a deep
respect for tradition, I felt determined to ensure that I brought the
long-standing practice of a therapeutic approach to vocal expression to the
attention of present-day practitioners and students within the relevant
professions. I was therefore honoured when Jessica Kingsley invited me to
publish a complete and unabridged history of the use of voice and singing in
therapy. In this book, Therapeutic Voicework: Principles and Practice for the Use of
Singing as a Therapy (Newham 1997b), I have described the theoretical and
practical history of the subject. In addition, throughout Therapeutic Voicework
I have related the various historic and extant approaches to vocal expression
to the techniques of Voice Movement Therapy. However, the description of
the practical techniques which I have evolved are a marginal part of what is
primarily a historical and theoretical overview of the field.
In this book, Using Voice and Song in Therapy: The Practical Application of
Voice Movement Therapy, | speak in a different voice. This book is the second
of a series of three volumes which are concerned with the practical
application of Voice Movement Therapy. These books are a description of
Voice Movement Therapy for those interested in the nitty-gritty of using
voice and movement as a therapeutic tool. For it has come to my attention
over the past few years that there is an ever increasing interest in the
therapeutic value of singing and non-verbal vocal expression amongst
therapists from all orientations. Such professionals and students of the
therapies are often eager to have an insight into how a therapeutic modality
with singing and voice at its centre actually works in practice. In this book
and the two other volumes in the series, I shall seek to throw some light on
this enquiry and I hope that those seeking to acquaint themselves with an
integrated and coherent model of therapeutic vocal work may find
inspiration, information and affirmation. Readers interested in the broad
historic and theoretical background are referred to my earlier book
Therapeutic Voicework (Newham 1997b).
INTRODUCTION 13
Most therapists, teachers and other practitioners working with the hearts
and souls of other people recognise that the human voice is a primary
medium of communication in human beings. It is an expression of who we
are and how we feel. In the timbre ofaperson’s voice you can hear the subtle
music of feeling and thought. The ever shifting collage of emotions which
we experience infiltrate the voice with tones of happiness, excitement,
depression and grief. The human voice is also one way in which we preserve
our identity; and the voice and the psychological state of an individual
mutually influence each other. The physical condition of the body is also
reflected in the vitality of vocal expression: illness, physical debilitation and
habitual muscular patterns all take their toll on the way we sound. The voice
is an expression of psychological state, a physiological operation and the
means by which a person asserts his or her rights within the social order. But
many people find themselves negatively affected by psychological dynamics
such as stress, anxiety and depression, by physical factors resulting from
congenital conditions, illness, injury or bodily misuse and by socially
enforced inhibitions. If these effects continue unabated, they often begin to
reduce the agility and vitality of body and voice and thereby deplete the
capacity for unencumbered expression.
Because the voice is composed of such a complex set of dimensions, the
condition of vocal inhibition, restraint or depleted function, from which so
many people suffer, leads to an expressive impairment on a psychological,
physiological and social level. To reverse the process and revive vocal
function therefore necessitates attention to psychological, physical and social
processes. Providing these processes are properly understood, working with
the voice can be an enlivening way of helping people overcome difficulties
which hinder the acoustic and kinetic expression ofthe Self. And such work
may be called Voicework.
Voicework may perhaps best be described as a generic term which
includes any work with or on the voice. Within this definition a singing
of
teacher could be said to practise Voicework in developing the vocal skills
to practise Voicewo rk in
her pupils; a bereavement counsellor could be said
helping a client feel safe and comfortable in giving voice to grief; a speech
and language therapist conducts Voicework in helping a patient be relieved
choir
of pathological conditions which threaten the health of the voice; a
a mass of disparat e
leader may be said to practise Voicework in enabling
may
voices to synthesise into a harmonious whole; a gestalt psychotherapist
vent to rage through shouts
draw upon Voicework in assisting a client to give
and yells; a répétiteur conducts Voicework when she helps an anxious opera
singer with the task of sustaining the demands of the music whilst
articulating the poetic text; a music therapist uses Voicework when she helps
a young child create a song from a simple rhyme; a priest employs
Voicework when using the tonal contours of his voice to communicate to the
congregation; a politician uses Voicework when he deliberately employs
specific vocal timbres to convince and persuade.
All of these people are using the voice as a channel through which to
express or ‘push out’ something from the inside; and the voice is indeed a
major bridge between the inner world of mood, emotion, image, thought
and experience and the outer world of relationship, discourse and
interaction.
Because the voice is so intimately connected to the expression of feelings
and ideas and is a primary channel through which we communicate who we
are, Voicework is often innately therapeutic. However, the term Voicework is
not synonymous with ‘voice therapy’.
The term ‘voice therapy’ denotes a clinical allopathic field of work
conducted by ‘voice therapists’ who are speech and language therapists with
a specialisation in voice disorders. It is also true, however, that a number of
medical doctors who have specialised in ear, nose and throat dysfunction and
disease (ENT) and who have aspecial focus on laryngological problems may
also call themselves voice therapists. Both ENT doctors and speech therapists
alleviate a wide range of disorders and though both kinds of practitioners
approach the voice as a somatic phenomenon, increasing numbers of doctors
as well as speech and language therapists are beginning to incorporate
attendance to the influence of emotional and psychological factors upon the
voice.
Although strictly speaking the term ‘voice therapy’ designates the
aforementioned field, in recent years an increasing number of people
working in the broad area of ‘complementary’, ‘alternative’ or ‘holistic’
medicine have utilised the term ‘voice therapy’ to denote the process by
which vocalisation through speech, song and non-verbal sound is used as a
means through which to express and explore aspects of the psyche. These
practitioners utilise the term ‘therapy’ for its psychic rather than its somatic
implication, inviting comparison with the work of psychotherapists rather
than speech and language therapists or ENT consultants. However, few of
these practitioners are trained in psychotherapy or counselling, which
adds
further confusion to the vernacular meaning and signification of the term
INTRODUCTION 15
‘voice therapy’. There are also many artistic practitioners, some of

long-standing excellence, particularly within the field of the avant garde
experimental theatre, who describe their teaching as being, in part, a
therapy. This invites the work of theatre practitioners who impart or
facilitate vocal work, such as directors, actors and workshop leaders, to be
compared to that of a drama therapist. Yet few of these artists are drama
therapists. There are also many individuals working in community centres
with so-called handicapped children, in mental health wings of hospitals, in
special schools and in the voluntary sector who are ‘helping’ others towards
positive change and thus are working therapeutically. Those who utilise
vocal expression as part of their approach may understandably be perceived
as disseminating ‘voice therapy’; yet few of these people have a therapeutic
training or qualification.
The widespread use of the term ‘therapy’ in general and ‘voice therapy’
specifically is therefore beginning to denote a broad style of work and a
particular kind of outcome rather than identifying someone who is trained
and qualified in a therapeutic discipline. Furthermore, the word ‘therapy’,
particularly in the current political climate, is subject to so much scrutiny and
currently designates such a broad field that it is, for many, time to consider
carefully the variety of meanings which the term has.
My assertion is that all approaches to Voicework can most certainly be
therapeutic. Moreover, its therapeutic effects can be somatic as well as
psychological. This does not, however, necessarily mean that all Voicework
practitioners are therapists or that all approaches to Voicework are
therapeutic. In fact, many people have suffered the most abominable
anti-therapeutic treatment in the hands of voice coaches, singing teachers
and voice workshop leaders who, whilst artistically and technically
competent in the field of voice, have not the slightest insight into the
foundations of compassion and analysis upon which a truly therapeutic
contract is built.
Voice Movement Therapy may be described as a particular approach to
Voicework and a specifically crafted form of therapeutic Voicework. Voice
Movement Therapy can help people whose expressive activity has been
detrimentally influenced by emotional problems, trauma and mental illness,
those whose lives have been turned around by the effects of severe injury or
the development ofdiseases such as Multiple Sclerosis, those with congenital
conditions such as cerebral palsy and Down’s Syndrome and those who have
been discouraged from asserting or expressing themselves by overpowering
and infertile environmental influences. In addition, Voice Movement

Therapy can respond to the needs of those whose social or professional
predicament places exceptional demands upon the voice, who often find
themselves ill equipped to preserve the health and longevity of their vocal
instrument and therefore require education and rehabilitation. No less
important are those who, whilst healthy and not overtly impeded, can
nonetheless discover an increased potential for expression and creativity
through singing and sound-making.
If not conducted with skill and expertise, however, Voice Movement
Therapy can also be threatening to the health of mind and body; and there
are some people for whom any kind of therapeutic Voicework, including
Voice Movement Therapy, may not be expedient for the maintenance of
health, no matter how proficient the practitioner. As a consequence, someone
practising any kind of Voicework needs to be competent in understanding
the psychophysical nature of vocal expression; and in addition they must
learn to recognise those for whom Voicework is an inappropriate medium
through which to work for physical or psychological reasons.
In my view, though there are many resourceful, sensitive and proficient
voice practitioners administering many diverse approaches to Voicework,
some therapeutic and some not, nonetheless any Voicework practitioner,
particularly a practitioner working with an overt therapeutic dimension,
should be trained to do so.
All students of the professional training in Voice Movement Therapy
undergo a thorough physical and psychological journey in order to facilitate
the same in others. In addition, all trainees study creative, allopathic and
psychological models ofintervention and analysis. They are thereby trained
to be practitioners who can deal effectively with the psychological and
physical aspects of vocal expression and who, in suspecting serious
pathology of mind or body, will refer the client to an appropriate practitioner.
Voice Movement Therapy can be conducted with individuals and with
groups. The clients begin by making their most effortless natural sound
whilst the acoustic tones of the voice and the muscle tone of the body are
heard and observed. In response to an informed analysis of breathing, sound
and movement the practitioner massages and manipulates the client’s body,
gives instruction in ways of moving and suggests moods and images which
the client allows to affect and infiltrate the vocal timbre. The voice is thereby
sculptured and animated through a graphic and authentic expression of the
Self. In order to facilitate this process, the practitioner also offers pedagogic
INTRODUCTION 17
technical training by which the voice develops in range and malleability; this
helps the client find access to sounds which give expression to hitherto
dormant aspects ofthe Self. The result of such Voicework is psychologically
uplifting, physically invigorating, creatively rejuvenating and serves to
release vocal function from constriction.
As the process unfolds, the client is encouraged and enabled to use
creative writing from which lyrics for songs are drawn. The practitioner then
helps the client create songs which are vocalised using the broadest possible
range of the voice, giving artistic expression to personal material. In
addition, the spectrum of voices which are elicited during the process are
used as the basis from which to create characters which symbolise and
express different aspects ofthe Self. Voice Movement Therapy thereby draws
on dance, music and drama and in many ways, therefore, provides a model for
an integrated expressive arts therapy where creative movement, creative
writing, music and theatre are synthesised into a coherent strategy within
which all strands are linked by the common thread ofthe voice. However,
Voice Movement Therapy differs from other arts therapies in that it
necessarily appropriates a physiological dimension, as the voice is so often
the locus for somatic and psychosomatic difficulties - and a complete
understanding ofvocal expression is not possible without an appreciation of
the way the voice functions physiologically.
The techniques which constitute Voice Movement Therapy can,
therefore, be loosely divided into three areas. The first of these areas is the use
of voice with movement, dance and massage and is covered in the first
volume of this series: Using Voice and Movement in Therapy. The second area is
the use of voice with creative writing and singing, which is covered in this
volume: Using Voice and Song in Therapy. The third area is the use ofvoice with
drama and performance, which is covered in the third volume: Using Voice and
Theatre in Therapy.
These books aim to be both theoretically informative and practically
inspiring. For, though the use of Voice Movement Therapy as a mode of
therapeutic inquiry, like all disciplines, requires training, there are parts of the
Voice Movement Therapy methodology which therapists from other
orientations can borrow from, adapt and utilise. I hope that the techniques
described in this book will inspire practitioners to broaden their field of
enquiry to include vocal expression.
Naturally, the untrained, unconsidered use of vocal expression in a
therapeutic context is potentially dangerous; and many of the techniques
which constitute Voice Movement Therapy require practical training to

know how to administer them. This is not a handbook. At the end ofthe day,
each reader must employ a discernment in keeping with the brevity of the
subject’s treatment here.
Throughout the book I not only give case studies but also reprint clients’
own accounts of their experience of the work; and I am grateful to those who
have permitted me to tell their story and quote their words. Nonetheless,
names and other details have been altered to preserve confidentiality and
anonymity.
CHAPTER I
Tales, Myths and Legends

The Archetypal Context of Voice and Psyche
On Therapy, Loss and Refinding Your Self

Most people come into therapy because they have lost a part of their soul,
their psyche, their Self. Some people have lost their joy, others have lost a
loved one, a relationship or a marriage; some have lost their trust and sense of
safety due to a traumatic experience, others have lost their self-confidence
and belief in themselves; some people have lost their sexuality and their
vitality; others have lost their aggression and ability to assert themselves. One
of the most common losses which people come into therapy to retrieve is the
loss of voice.
Therapy is not only concerned with the content of what is voiced — it is
also focused on the act of giving voice itself. Therapy takes place inside an
acoustic vessel where the unconscious resounds and is echoed through
crescendos and tempos to which the practitioner must be acutely sensitive.
The act of giving voice contains the healing balm; vocalising is
self-empowerment in its most rudimentary and most primal manifestation.
When we give voice to parts of the Self which have remained mute hitherto,
then we reclaim, refind and rediscover something that had been lost.
In order for this therapeutic process to occur, the client must first find the
voice with which to resound the lost parts of the Self. Initially, therapy is
about finding a voice.
The loss ofvoice is a universal contemporary psychological problem. For
many people, the process of becoming an adult is a process of becoming
increasingly silenced. And therapy is a process ofreversing this detrimental
developmental act of making mute the spontaneous expression ofthe Self.
The fact that the loss of an authentic voice is such a widespread
phenomenon is reflected in the proliferate occurrence ofthe voice as a motif
in myths, legends and fairy tales throughout European culture. When clients
come into therapy to work on their voice, they bring with them not only the
personal and idiosynciatic details of their particular silences and inhibitions.

They also walk an archetypal path, living out aspects of patterns which
testify to problems inherent in the human condition. It is therefore useful to
begin by examining a few of the most widely known tales which deal with
the psychology of voice and its shadow called silence.
Orpheus in the Underworld

The relationship between voice and loss is encapsulated powerfully in the
story of the Greek hero Orpheus, who is the classical symbol of song as well
as representing the inevitability of human loss. Orpheus was born to the God
Apollo and his lover Calliope and from the moment he was born he sang out
with a golden voice that amazed everyone. When it was time for Orpheus to
leave home, his father gave him a stringed instrument called a lyre so that
Orpheus could accompany his beautiful singing.
One afternoon, whilst Orpheus was passing through a forest, he noticed a
beautiful woman dancing and fell in love with her at first sight. This woman’s
name was Eurydice. But, at the height of their delicious love affair on a hot
sunny day, Orpheus fell asleep in a lemon grove whilst Eurydice was picking
berries. It was here that according to some she was raped and according to
others she was poisoned by a serpent. Whichever is true, she was taken to the
underworld, the land of the dead ruled by a relentless figure called Hades.
When Orpheus discovered the fate of his beloved he despaired, because
he knew that no one living could enter the underworld and once there, no
one could return. Yet, he thought of his voice and its powers. He reflected
upon how he had used his voice to calm aggressors, to assuage storms, to
seduce lovers and to talk to the beasts. Perhaps, thought Orpheus, his voice
would be powerful enough to guide him into the underworld and rescue his
dear Eurydice.
Fearless and determined, Orpheus followed his lover’s footsteps down
through the face of the earth and into the underworld. He met Charon the
Ferryman whom he had to persuade to transport him across the river Styx; he
met Cerberus the three-headed hound of Hades; and he encountered hellish
characters and terrifying monsters. But, each time he met a new obstacle he
drew upon his voice and sang with such power and such heart that his
aggressors cleared the path and pointed him to his destination.
When Orpheus reached the centre of the underworld he came face to face
with Hades and pleaded with him to let Eurydice return to the light of the
living world with him. Hades was so struck by the urgency of Orpheus’ love
TALES, MYTHS AND LEGENDS 21
and so moved by the spirit of Orpheus’ voice that he agreed to let him take
Eurydice with him — on one condition. Orpheus was not to turn back to look
at Eurydice until they were both back upon the earth.
Wasting no time, Orpheus proceeded back the way he had come, with
Eurydice following closely behind him. They travelled again through gorge
and crag, across the river Styx and back up towards the earth’s floor. But, with
only a short distance left to travel, Orpheus could no longer resist and he
turned to gaze upon his lover. In this moment Eurydice was snatched by the
winds of the underworld and Orpheus lost her forever. So grief-stricken was
Orpheus that he cried and cried and cried and his cries led to songs which
echoed throughout the lands for an eternity.
The Foolishness of Looking

It is natural to wonder why Orpheus turned to look at Eurydice; for surely he
would have heard her footsteps behind him. We can only imagine that
Orpheus did not trust his ears as much as his eyes. And, ifnot, why did he not
use his precious voice to call to her? The voice had not been prohibited; the
gaze had. Had he given voice, perhaps she would have resounded in response
and Orpheus might have heard the presence of her soul. But instead he
turned to look upon her. The soul cannot be seen, it is not visible and cannot
be located, dissected, placed under the microscope and observed. The soul
will not subject itself to an autopsy, which means to see automatically with
the eye. The soul evades the eye; and the more we attempt to look at the soul
the more it escapes our understanding and our grasp. Though light
enlightens it also burns; and the delicacy of the soul’s fabric must be
protected from the scorching rays ofthe inquisitive lamp. This was the lesson
that Orpheus learned. Eurydice was in his trail; yet he could not trust the
sound ofher footsteps. He had to turn to look, to gaze, to see. And, caught by
the terrifying light of his gaze, the poor soul was taken forever.
If we want to solicit the company ofthe soul then we must refrain from
placing it under the light of our gaze. We must stave off our optical
fascinations and learn to listen to the soul instead. For though the soul is
invisible it is not inaudible. We can perceive the soul with our ears. In fact the
word ‘audience’ does not mean those who see but those who hear.
Because the soul is invisible and makes itself known through sound, we
have to trust our own ears if we are to hear the language ofthe soul. And the
language ofthe soul to which our ears must be open is the language ofthe
human voice. This instrument with which most of us are blessed is, as
Orpheus discovered, capable of calming and placating monsters. And of

course the monsters by which we are most threatened are the monsters in our
own selves: the monsters we call depression and anxiety, the monsters we call
guilt and shame, the monsters we call shyness and loneliness, the monsters
which inhibit and enrage us; and the monsters which we call loss and grief
which were the most daunting of the monsters which Orpheus finally
overcame through singing. All of the negative forces and influences to which
we are prey are like the monsters which Orpheus met on his journey. And
just as Orpheus calmed the monsters in his path with song, so too we can
calm our own inner monsters through singing. Singing disperses fear and
bandages our wounds. Singing lifts our spirits and settles our nerves. Singing
discharges our emotions and animates the heart. Singing gives shape to a
soul that cannot be seen.
The Echoes of Therapy

On the surface of the story, Eurydice is Orpheus’ lover. But psychologically
she is more than this, for she represents a part of his soul that is lost and must
be reclaimed.
Most people come into therapy in response to a recognition that
something has been lost. Therapy represents Psyche’s lamp and holds the
promise that her shining light will lead us to the spot where we lost that
which we seek. Therapy will help us refind those parts of our Self of which
we have been robbed by the passage of time.
Among the common losses which bring people to therapy is the loss of
voice and many people come into therapy because they seek to refind their
voice. In fact, traditionally, therapy is all about giving voice. The therapeutic
process which Freud initiated provided a vessel in which the patient’s voice
could be echoed, amplified and heard; and therapeutic process has remained
an essentially acoustic process ever since. But it had not always been like this.
With Freud, therapy moves from a voyeuristic observation of silent victims to
an active listening to the tales of those who have been silenced. Prior to
Freud, therapy had been an optical rather than an acoustic concern, typified
most acutely by the work of Freud’s predecessor Jean Martin Charcot.
Jean Martin Charcot worked in the Salpétriére Clinic in Paris where his
studies in hysteria began in 1870 and where he was the first theorist to see
hysteria as psychological rather than physiological in origin. He also showed
that hysteria was suffered by men and therefore not limited solely to women.
Charcot frequently presented his female hysterics to audiences in public
lecture theatres, encouraging them to perform attitudes passionelles. a physical

and theatrical mime show which replayed their lives and emotions. As a
result, several patients became stars or celebrities of his ‘hysteria shows’, later
becoming immortalised in the collection of photographed gestures and
hysterical expressions called Iconographique de la Salpétriére.
While we have a full pictorial record of Charcot'’s hysterical patients, only
a few fragments oftheir words were recorded. However, in 1895 Freud and
Breuer published the results of their analyses of so-called hysterical women
under the title Studies in Hysteria. Here, for the first time, the patient’s own
voices were taken seriously and the words which they uttered were written
down. Their stories, memories, dreams, and fantasies thus entered the
medical record and psychoanalysis was founded upon intimate conversations
between hysterical women and male psychiatrists. Therapy had moved from
picture to voice, from optical exhibitions to verbal dialogues. Freud's case
studies marked an important departure in psychological analysis, from the
pictorial emphasis in the work of Freud’s predecessor and teacher Charcot, to
the auditory skills of listening and attending to women’s stories and voices.
In many ways, Freud gave women a voice, or rather he listened to their voices,
which only makes the process by which he allegedly distorted and
misrepresented them more tragic.
Despite Freud’s later distractions which served to distort and sabotage the
very voices which he had elicited, the original idea of psychoanalysis was to
give the suffering a voice. It so happened that most of those who seemed to
be suffering were women; and the political implications of Freud’s initial
project was to give those women who had been muted by circumstance a
voice which could be released without restraint in the confidential chambers
ofthe consulting room.
Today, most political analyses of these troubled women agree that their
problems stemmed in large part from the stifling and repressive patriarchy
which enveloped the nineteenth century and continued to stifle women
through the majority of the twentieth century. Women’s voices were
subservient to men’s voices. In fact, a woman’s voice was considered to be
best employed as a reflection and reverberation of aman’s voice. Women had
no platform of their own.
It remains true today that our voice is influenced by the nature of those
who hear it. We live in relationship and our primary relationships provide an
acoustic vessel which reverberates, dampens, heightens or stifles our voice.
In therapy, one of the most common problems which people bring is the
feeling that their most intimate and primary relationship does not provide
sufficient room for their voice to be heard. And many people, particularly
women, report that they have no voice of their own but act merely as a
reflection of their partner's sonic self. Such a situation is represented
perfectly in the myth of Echo and Narcissus.
Echo and Narcissus

In Greek mythology Echo was a mountain nymph who assisted Zeus,
supreme ruler of mortals and gods, in having yet another secret love affair by
keeping his wife Hera distracted with idle chatter whilst he was away. So
with the incessant and interminable contours of her voice, Echo engaged
Hera in an infinite rapport about everything and nothing. However, when
Hera discovered how she had been deceived, she punished Echo by making
her unable to speak except to repeat the last words of someone else she heard.
So it was that the speaking voice of Echo, which had been her spell, her talent
and her proclivity became her handicap and her foible. Then, to make matters
worse, she fell foolishly in love with Narcissus.
Narcissus was a beautiful youth who refused love from the many
hundreds of nymphs who fell at his feet, including Echo; for Narcissus could
love no one. Then, one day Narcissus caught the sight of his face mirrored in
a pool of water and fell in love with his own reflection. Unable to grasp what
he saw, Narcissus pined away and died for love of himself. In the aftermath of
his death Echo wilted and withered away in mourning of the love she never
had until all that remained of her was her voice.
Echo and Narcissus make a fatal and cataclysmic pair which epitomises
many unfortunate relationships: a man in love with his own reflection and a
woman who can do nothing but reflect the voice of the man she loves. As his
identity thrives and excels so she loses all sense of Self other than to act as his
servile supporter and abettor.
Narcissus and Echo are in many ways opposites. He is alive with his own
confidence to the point of an overbearing self-indulgence which precludes
him from loving anyone but himself. She is so transfixed and revering of
another in her desperate attempt to be loved that she has no original words to
utter and no voice that is truly her own. It is, in my experience, often the
woman in a relationship or marriage that struggles the hardest to keep her
voice alive. Indeed, many women seem to pay the price of their voice in
return for the man they love, playing into the web of misogyny that prefers a
woman to be modest oftongue. Such a sacrifice is immortalised in the fairy

tale “The Little Mermaid’.
The Little Mermaid -

The Little Mermaid was the youngest of six mermaids who lived with their
father at the bottom of the ocean. As children they were not permitted to go
up to the surface of the waves; but on their fifteenth birthday they were free
to swim wherever they pleased. So when it came to the Little Mermaid’s
fifteenth year she travelled upwards, swam to a ship and peered in through
one ofthe portholes where she saw a beautiful Prince with whom she fell in
love at first sight. But then a storm grew and tossed the ship from side to side,
tearing down its masts and wrecking its bough. The whole crew were thrown
into the ocean and the Prince choked and spat and passed into a deep sleep.
So the Little Mermaid carried the Prince to the shore and then swam back out
to sea where she watched until a beautiful young woman came, awoke the
prince and took him to safety.
The Little Mermaid returned to the bottom of the ocean but spent her
days in mourning, longing to be rid of her fish’s tail and to have two legs so
she might enter the world ofthe land and win the love of the Prince whom
she had saved from death but who had never set eyes on her.
So, the Little Mermaid went to the Sea Witch who said: ‘I know what you
want. It is stupid of you, but you shall have your way, for it will bring you
grief, my pretty Princess. You want to get rid of your fish-tail and to have two
legs instead, like those the people of the earth walk with, so that the young
Prince might fall in love with you. Very well, I will prepare a potion for you;
and when you drink it your tail will shrivel up and become legs. But it will
hurt you. It will seem as if you have been cut with a sharp sword. You will
have a graceful walk and no dancer will be able to move as lightly as you. But
every step you take will be as if you have trodden upon sharp knives. If you
can bear this, I can help you.’
‘Yes!’ said the Little Mermaid, ‘Please give me the potion.’
‘But you must pay me for my costly potion,’ said the witch. “You have the
finest voice of all the mermaids; and it is with your voice that you intend to
enchant your fair Prince. But this voice you must give to me as payment for
my potion.’
‘But if you take away my voice,’ said the Little Mermaid, ‘what will
remain?’
‘Your beautiful form, your graceful walk and your speaking eyes,’ said the
witch, ‘with those you can capture a man’s heart.’
The Little Mermaid looked afraid, as the witch asked her if she had lost
her courage. ‘No, I have not lost my courage,’ replied the Little Mermaid.
‘Very well then,’ said the witch, ‘put out your little tongue so that I may
cut it off for my payment.’ And indeed the Little Mermaid put out her tongue
and the Sea Witch sheared it clean off so that now the Little Mermaid was
mute. As if this were not enough, the Little Mermaid had to agree that if she
failed to win the love of her Prince she would immediately give up her life, be
thrown into the sea and be turned to foam.
When the Little Mermaid drank the potion it felt as if a sword were
splitting her into two pieces and she fell into a deep sleep. But when she
awoke she saw the Prince standing before her and noticed that her fish-tail
had gone and that in its place were two legs crowned with sweet white feet.
The Prince led the silent beauty to his castle where they danced, every step
biting her feet with a searing pain and in time the Prince became very fond of
this silent girl but never thought to make her his wife. For he was to marry the
woman who had discovered him upon the shore.
When the marriage day arrived, the Little Mermaid knew that she would
die that night, for she had failed to win the Prince’s love. But, as she stood by
the shore soothing her burning feet in the ocean, her five sisters appeared.
"We have hacked off our hair and given it to the Sea Witch in payment for
your life to be spared,’ spoke the oldest sister. ‘Here is a knife sent by the
witch. Tonight you must plunge the knife into the Prince’s heart and as he
falls to his death, the blood that falls onto your feet will cause your fish-tail to
grow again and you may return to the sea as a mermaid once more.’
But when the night came, the Little Mermaid could not do the deed and
instead hurled the knife into the ocean. With this defiance she gave up her life
and was thrown into the sea where she melted into foam.
There are women in every city of every country to this day who reach the
verge of killing their husbands to save themselves from life-threatening
abuse. Few women respond to this urge; instead they stay mute and sacrifice
themselves to their ordeal. For such women, giving up their voice in the hope
of peace, as the Little Mermaid gave her tongue to the Sea Witch in return for
the promise of love, is not enough. They must give up their lives and suffer
the agony of walking on sharp knives, following in the agonising footsteps of
the Little Mermaid.
The girl who is made to silently endure terrible pains in total muteness is a
common motif in many fairy tales and is portrayed particularly vividly in the
three stories: ‘The Twelve Brothers’ and the ‘Six Swans’, recorded by the
Grimm Brothers and “The Wild Swans’ recorded by Hans Christian
Anderson. In these tales a girl is born and all of her brothers either die or are
turned into birds. When the girl realises that her birth has caused the horror
of her brothers’ fate she agrees to all kinds of ordeals in order to restore them
to life and human shape. In all of these tales, in addition to completing tasks
set by a sadistic power-monger, the girl must remain mute, refrain from
laughing, weeping, singing or speaking a single word until her tasks are
complete. Eventually, she is saved by a prince who marries her in spite of her
silence; or perhaps because he prefers it.
In many fairy tales, female virtue is associated with verbal modesty and
restraint and a fair Princess is always softly spoken when she is not silent.
Masculine virtue, meanwhile, is associated with an outspoken tongue and the
courage to speak up and speak out.
Many women and men come into therapy in an attempt to rewrite the
fairytale of the muted soul and reclaim the power of their voice. In archetypal
terms, this therapeutic endeavour is directed towards rediscovering the siren
—a psychic component which is essential to psychological survival.
The Song of the Siren

Bluebeard, a character in a tale written by Perrault in 1697, is like the
prototype for all the deranged serial killers and women haters ofpresent-day
cinematic imagination. He lives in a grand castle where he houses a
succession of wives. To each wife he gives a key which opens a door to a room
which he forbids her to open and forbids her to enter. She must hold the key
but refrain from acting upon her curiosity. But each wife is unable to resist
and enters the forbidden chamber where she discovers the dead bodies ofthe
previous wives hanging by a noose on a rail. Each wife’s punishment for
disobeying the master and using the key to unlock the morbid entrance is to
join the bodies of all her predecessors upon the rack of ropes. But, the last
wife has a sister called Anne whose voice is as loud and as piercing as a siren
and she manages to call for help from the cliff top as Bluebeard is about to
murder his next bride. Recognising the voice oftheir sister, Anne’s brothers
gallop to the rescue and put an end to Bluebeard’s scheme.
Anne’s voice is a siren. It warns of danger and it attracts the heroes to the
scene of the crime. Without Anne’s voice, her sister would have met the fate
of all the previous brides at Bluebeard’s wicked hands.
In 1819, a Frenchman called Cagniard de la Tour invented an instrument
which emitted extremely high sounds. He named this instrument a siréne.
Fifty years later his invention was adapted to create foghorns for ships.
Cagniard de la Tour unwittingly bequeathed the word ‘siren’ to common
usage and this word is still used to describe machines which give warning of
the presence of danger through their unceasing voice.
In Greek mythology the Sirens were sea nymphs with wings and claws
and the body of a bird whilst the Sirens’ faces were human and as beautiful as
any woman. But the Sirens’ most astounding feature was the exquisite beauty
and tremendous power of their voices which would charm and allure any
who heard the Sirens sing. The Sirens lived on the rocky shores of the ocean.
But unlike the foghorn adapted from Cagniard de la Tour’s siren which stood
upon the cliffs and steered the ships away from collision, the Sirens lured the
sailors towards them until they were irresistibly impelled to cast themselves
into the sea to their destruction.
When Odysseus consulted Circe for sound advice before setting sail on
one of his many voyages, she told him that he and his seamen should stop up
their ears with bees wax before sailing past the Sirens’ island so that they
would not be lured by the Sirens’ sweet song. She advised Odysseus to have
his men bind him to the mast before sailing past the shores of the Sirens’
habitat and told him to instruct his crew not to release him until well clear of
the Sirens’ seductive call.
As the crew sailed passed the Sirens’ land, Odysseus could hear the
ravishing melodies of their song. The Sirens’ serenade was prophetic and
promised Odysseus foreknowledge of all things that would come to pass on
earth if he ventured into their company. Tempted by the Sirens’ promise of
knowledge and foresight Odysseus struggled to tear himself free from the
mast; but his crew were faithful to his previous instructions and bound him
faster to the wood. As they sailed, the music grew fainter until they were once
again in the clear silent swoon of the sea, whereupon Odysseus was released
from his bondage and the entire crew unsealed their ears. The Sirens were so
vexed at failing to lure Odysseus that they threw themselves into the suicidal
drink of the ocean where their voices were interminably drowned.
A Siren is a temptress, a seductress. But she tempts and seduces with the
promise of knowledge and foresight; and her voice is the carrier and emissary
of all that she knows. The Sirens are named according to their voices:
Aglaophonos, which means Lovely Voice; Ligeia, which means Shrill;
Molpe, which means Music; and Thelxepeia, which means Spellbinding
Words. The Siren’s voice is one that enchants and beckons and their hungry
call lures their prey. Men are both enraptured and terrified of the Sirens’
voice because it sings of things beyond the domain of their rationale.
In early times, the Sirens could fly and if passing sailors did not respond to
their call they would attack the ships from the air. In later times, stories were
told of how the Muses stole their wing tips and left them earthbound and
seabound. As tales of the Sirens passed from lip to tongue through the
retelling of their lure across the centuries they lost their claws as well as their
wings and began to live not upon the rocky shores but deep below the
current at the bottom ofthe ocean. In time, the Sirens became mermaids with
the upper body and radiant face of womanly beauty and a fishes tail. But the
mermaids retained the magnificent voice bequeathed by the Sirens of old.
Reclaiming the Voice

Originally, fairy tales were invented and told by women in the parlours of
seventeenth-century Europe. Fairy tales were, before the printing press and
the dissemination ofthe written tale, a powerful form offeminine expression.
They were told and retold, adapted and changed to contain the codes and
messages which communicated the essence of the human condition as seen
from the female tale-teller’s perspective. With the proliferation of the written
word, men took over the role of recording the tales and they became fixed in
the ink-dried symbol of patriarchal power: the printed word.
The power of the original tales was that they bridged the gap between
highly personal experience and narratives which had a universal relevance.
The inventors of fairy tales would take an event or a story from personal
experience and amplify it, turning real people into inflated caricatures. In
l
many ways, the tale-tellers were creating a therapy rooted in archetypa
psychology. From an array of personal experiences, the tale-telle rs would
and
find a thread of themes and motifs which resonated with the listeners
weave a web which made a personal story relevant and psycholog ically
meaningful to all those present.
al
The therapeutic power ofcreating afairy tale from the realms ofperson
enth
experience is as useful and liberating now as it was in the sevente
to rifle and rummag e
century. It gives men and women an opportunity
e
amongst the images of their history and create from it an artful narrativ
which transforms the burden of individual experience into the elevation of

communion.
One of the problems with Freud’s original vision was that it assumed that
healing could arise from the repetition of one’s own personal recollections.
Today, many people come into an expressive arts therapy because verbal
psychotherapy has failed to provide the transformative leap from a
repetitious telling of their story to the creation of a fresh narrative within
which to live in the present.
Therapy begins with creation of the new. Yet, at the same time, experience
is written indelibly upon the psyche. Our story is a neurological calligraphy.
The art of creating story, tale and illusion is that it accepts the indelible
calligraphy of personal experience whilst at the same time moving it onto the
plane of shared identity. In Voice Movement Therapy, one of the therapeutic
processes which I have seen yield positive results in many people involves the
client in the art of retelling their biography and turning this into fairy tale
and, eventually, song.
CHAPTER 2
From Biography to Fairy Tale

Creating Therapeutic Communion
with the Art of Telling
Past, Present and Future

Therapy is chronological; it exists in time. Indeed, time is present everywhere
in therapy. Time holds the session between its beginning and its end. Time
measures the process of change, provides a barometer and set of co-ordinates.
Time heals, frustrates and agitates. Time remains permanent in a sea of
psychic transitions. Time comes and goes. Time tells that the session has
begun and then, just as we forget its looming presence, time is up and our
healing hour is over for another day or another week.
When a new client comes into therapy the most dominating aspect of
time is the echo of times past. The client enters therapy at a junction, realising
that their present time is shaped by the past and that the past must be
repositioned in relation to the present if the future is to hold a promise of
good times to come. The client talks of the past, bringing into the present
time ofthe session stories from early childhood, tales from a year or so ago
and things which happened only last month or maybe even yesterday. This
past is unfolded like the canvas ofahabitat which the client will inhabit for
the duration oftherapy. The therapist meanwhile listens and remembers.
In the early time of therapy, much of what the client discloses is a case
history of body and mind: surgical procedures, major illnesses, periods of
mental anguish, periods of medication, name of doctor, medical history of
the family. This gives the therapist a sense ofthe facts oftime: the way that
time has treated the client and the scars which its ticking hands have left upon
the psyche and soma.
Sequence is often important in this unfolding. The therapist's keen ears
listen for the way times of physical illness are coincident with events in the
social and familial fabric of the client’s past. Things which seem
31
disconnected often radiate a numinous relationship; and connections

previously made by the client appear insubstantial and irrelevant.
When the tales of times past are woven and the fabric of its myth is hung,
the client begins to speak of present time: his joys and loathings, his needs
and frustrations, his worries and proclivities. Again, the therapist listens and
remembers. Then, the time of future rears its head as the client begins to muse
of the horizon and braves to ask time for the future fruits of possibility.
The therapist and client now engage in a dialogue of time, seeking out the
calligraphy, the intersections and the lines of stress which connect past,
present and future.
These words of the client’s telling may or may not be written down. Some
therapists keep copious notes; others store information in the private
corridors of their mind. But whether scored on paper or brain, a story has
been told and part of the therapeutic potential of the story is contained
within its artistic value as oral and literary art. The person who should write it
down is the client.
The Therapeutic Art of Autobiography

Many people, particularly those whose lives have been riddled with more
than a fair share of suffering, speak idly in cafes and bars about writing a
book of their life. When people begin thinking about their life they sense its
magnitude and ominous audacity, and they muse about writing it all down
one day. Few ofthese people would consider therapy; many of them may not
even have a clear sense of what psychotherapy is. Yet their reasons for
contemplating writing are therapeutic, as though the act of creating an artful
story from the remnants of one’s own journey has the power to raise up a
sense of good even from the bad times.
Those people who do come into therapy tend to speak of their story,
giving acoustic shape to their tale in the resonating vessel of the consulting
room. Those who choose an artistic form of therapy, such as drama therapy or
music therapy, after some years of verbal psychotherapy, may be tired of
telling and retelling the tales of their woes and may welcome an opportunity
to work through a non-verbal therapeutic discipline, escaping the pressure to
trace their footsteps once again.
But telling the story impromptu to the diagnostic ears of a clinician is not
the same as artfully sculpturing a tale upon the page. The former is a clinical
necessity, the latter is an artistic choice.
FROM BIOGRAPHY TO FAIRY TALE 33
When we write our story in the form of an autobiography, what was once
entirely personal becomes communicative and to some degree collective. For
we listen to ourselves write upon the page as if through the ears of a reader.
We create a sense of destiny, of self-control, of editorial choice. Though we
cannot rewrite the events of our history we can reposition them upon the
page, bringing the landscape of our memory into relief with new-found
focus.
Many people come into therapy to rewrite their life, to construct a new
script, a new prose and a new poesis. This is a mammoth task. It is a violent
task. And it is a creative task. Writing of oneself involves scoring upon the
page lines of events linked by time which mirror the memories of events
which are scored upon the psyche. The pen gouges, burrows, digs and
unearths. The pen is mightier than the sword; but like the sword it separates
one thing from another. Writing helps us sort out the pieces, the images, the
characters and the years. And from this writing something new is formed: an
artifact, a template, a canvas, a literary event. And this event marks the
beginning of a new time.
Practical Method: The Autobiography

In Voice Movement Therapy, during the early stages of the therapeutic
process, the client is asked to write their autobiography. Beginning with first
memories and tracing their childhood through to adulthood, the client
creates a written text including descriptions of their family and friends as
well as major events which they feel have shaped their lives.
To help the client focus it is useful to suggest that they set aside specific
writing periods — usually an hour per day for one or two weeks. The client
may use the first set of writing hours to draft the story and the latter periods
to rewrite and make the editorial alterations and adjustments which bring the
autobiography to fruition.
When the task is completed, the next stage offers the client an
opportunity to read the autobiography aloud — to the practitioner in
individual work and to the entire ensemble in group work. The audience is
asked to listen generously and not to intervene or remark in any way.
The following are excerpts from the autobiographies of two clients from a
Voice Movement Therapy group. The first is by Vicky, who came into therapy
to deal with the consequences of having been repeatedly orally sexually
abused by her father. The second is by Richard, who came into therapy to
deal with the consequences of having survived an aeroplane accident in

which most other passengers died.
Client’s Autobiography: Vicky

The Girl with No Arms
...My father always held my arms down and I remember them going
numb and hurting. Physically it was the most painful part of the ordeal.
He usually held them down with his knees, sitting on top of me, but
sometimes he would clasp them with his huge hands...
He used to put his prick in my mouth and tell me to suck gently and
slowly. Then he would climax and my mouth would fill up with sperm. I
remember that the pain in my arms was so great that I wanted him to have
an orgasm so he would release my arms. When he did I could feel the
muscles in my arms tingling and it would take a while for the feeling to
return to them...
After my father had left the room I would lie there for a while and then
spit the sperm out into some tissues. But most of it would be swallowed. |
didn’t want to swallow it but it just happened so that by the time I was
able to get up after he had left the room it was all in my throat...
I still have trouble with my arms today. I can’t do anything for very long
like writing or drawing or anything that involves the use of my arm
muscles. And my throat still feels all clogged up.
Client’s Autobiography: Richard

Getting the Feet on the Ground
I was raised to believe in myself but to have humility and grace also. My
parents were both Quakers but were also extremely successful business
people. We were very wealthy and all my brothers and sisters have also
made a great success oftheir careers.
According to my mother, of all her children I was the one with the
loudest voice. I was very outspoken and many of my teachers apparently
found me difficult to deal with. As an adult I continued to have a loud
voice, both literally and metaphorically. I had no trouble making myself
heard and in my work a lot of weight rested upon my decisions...
It was a trip that I had no enthusiasm for and, in fact, I had considered
cancelling it...
When we were all boarded, the pilot mentioned that the weather was bad
and that we should expect some turbulence. I did not think much of it
and continued to read my newspaper.
But then, disaster struck and mayhem broke out. The whole plane was
torn apart and people were screaming and yelling. The most awful thing
was that the person sitting next to me was decapitated. I cannot describe
in words the terror...
Asa result of the accident my entire life changed. My wife divorced me, I
lost my job, I became an insomniac and, most markedly, my voice
disappeared.
The accident left me shy and nervous and the actual quality of my voice
completely changed. It became soft and timid and reticent. I no longer
recognised the sound of my own voice. Metaphorically, I also lost my
voice in the world. I no longer had any confidence in my opinions and
had no capacity to tell others what to do.
Before the accident my one hobby had been to sing in a choir. This was
no longer possible. I could not sing a note.
The Ancient Story Circle

Often, during the reading of the autobiography, the client will express
emotions provoked by particular chapters in the story. Stoic clients who tell
their story with a dry detachment during therapy will, in response to reading
their own writing, often weep as they speak. Also, the group oflisteners will
often be moved to experience a tender and vulnerable disposition as they
empathise with the story told.
The exercise of rewriting and reading the autobiography is not only
pertinent and appropriate to individual therapy; it is also a rich and
enlightening process that can be conducted with many kinds of groups
whose purposes may be recreational, educational or therapeutic. The process
of sitting in a circle, reading your own story and listening to the stories of
others acts as a kind ofinitiation for the members of agroup who are meeting
one another for the first time and who are about to embark upon a journey of
discovery.
This therapeutic process is rooted in an age-old tradition of a story circle

where people gather and share tales of woe and joy, victory and repression. In
the moment oftelling, the empathy of the audience rescues the teller from
isolation. For empathy cannot be engendered unless the empathisers can
genuinely relate to the story told from their own experience. As soon as this
occurs, the teller is no longer alone and the problems of the teller become
those of the listeners. Audience and performer become one in an act of
psychic participation. This returns therapy to the origin of catharsis. For
Aristotle’s observations of the psychodynamics of Greek theatre from which
Freud extrapolated a cathartic therapy were that the audience experienced a
therapeutic catharsis as a result of their empathy with the story. The catharsis
and the healing were engendered in the audience not in the performers. In
true cathartic tradition, very often, the therapeutic catharsis in Voice
Movement Therapy is experienced by those who listen to the tale told by a
teller as much as by the teller herself. However, the effect of the listening
group’s empathy in turn deepens the healing effect for the teller. It is not the
telling itself but the quality of listening which creates an acoustic therapeutic
vessel for the client.
Client’s Account: Vicky

Though I had told the story of my childhood sexual abuse many times in
therapy — in fact with three different psychotherapists — the act of
writing it as an autobiography and then reading it to an audience of
others who were present with their own stories was a completely
different experience.
I felt strangely separate from my story, yet at the same time completely
inside it. The word that comes to mind is ‘solidarity’. I felt a solidarity
with the people I was reading to. I think this came from realising that I
was not describing the events to an analytic therapist. | was reading my
story to a group of people who were like me. I felt they were resonating
with me. At times I would look up and notice others in the group crying
in response to my story. Though I felt a little guilty at causing tears, at the
same time I felt healed by the presence of this genuine emotion. The
group seemed to be saying: ‘Yes, I hear this story and I share these
feelings’. Though it sounds odd, I felt loved and held.
Having a story to tell that was written on the page gave me a sense of
limits. Usually, when | talk about myself, I feel like I go on and on
incessantly and I never know how to finish or when to finish — as though

I am looking for the right words as I speak and they never come. But
having a story to tell where I had already been through the process of
editing and arranging helped me deliver what I wanted to say which felt
direct. I felt like I was being heard because I was getting through. I was
communicating.
Client’s Account: Richard

For me, the act of choosing what to write and then hearing myself read
the chosen words aloud to the group felt like an incredible step forward.
Part of my suffering since the accident has been a terrible lack of
confidence in making any decisions and this was reflected in my
difficulty in deciding what words to put upon the page. When I had
written my autobiography, I felt a great sense of achievement. But also,
because I started from when I was very young and wrote up to the
present, I was able to make connections between the accident and my
previous life story. I discovered a kind oflogic.
When we came to read excerpts from the autobiography I was terrified
because I thought I would open my mouth and nothing would come out.
But having the script of the written words was very useful. I heard myself
read as though listening to a stranger. For the first time, I felt a small
space, a small distance between me and my troubles. Nonetheless, I still
hated the sound of my voice which sounded like a shell of my former self.
The Therapeutic Art of the Fairy Tale

Fairy tales provide a sharp and powerful allegory for psychological
experience and have been used in proliferation within therapy to help clients
understand their sufferings as more than entirely personal. When a client
recognises their story in the predicament of a fairy tale character, they see
that what they are going through is in some ways part ofauniversal necessity
and inevitability.
Usually, when fairy tales are used in therapy, they are employed
interpretatively by the therapist who draws parallels between the psychic
activity within the client and the narrative and imagistic activity within the
tale. But clients can be empowered greatly by transforming their own
autobiographies into an original fairy tale where fathers become kings,
sisters become princesses, houses become castles and the remembered

environment of youth takes on legendary proportion.
European fairy tales originated in personal experience in the first
instance. We may like to think of them as having descended from the magical
dream time of eternity, but they have not. Fairy tales have always been
grounded in social, political and psychological reality, capturing real life
events and couching them in allegory and metaphor— often in order that the
tale-tellers were not discovered speaking the unspeakable.
Practical Method: The Fairy Tale

In this exercise, the client is asked to translate the personal autobiography
into a fairy tale. The client is asked to take the characters and events of the
autobiography and amplify them to mythical proportion. The client is
encouraged to think allegorically and to translate their personal story into a
tale which carries transpersonal implications.
It is often helpful for the practitioner to relate aspects of the autobiog-
taphies read by some group members to parts of well-known fairy tales,
inspiring the client to make connections between the personal and the
archetypal.
Again, to help the client focus it is useful to suggest that they set aside
specific writing periods — usually an hour per day for one or two weeks. The
client may use the first set of writing hours to draft the story and the latter
periods to rewrite and make the editorial alterations and adjustments which
bring the fairy tale to fruition.
The following are excerpts from the fairy tales written by Vicky and
Richard.
Client’s Fairy Tale: Vicky

The Castle of Glue
Once upon a time there was a little girl called Stuck who lived with her
parents: King Tyrant and Queen Absent.
The family lived in a castle with many stairs and whenever anyone
ascended or descended the stairs, the wooden boards would creak and echo
throughout the castle corridors so everybody knew that someone was on the
way up or on the way down.
The little girl was very unhappy because her mother was always away. She
said that she had important business to do but Stuck knew that she was a
Prince Chaser and that her business consisted of luring young princes into
her grasp whereupon she would kiss them to death. Queen Absent loved
kissing but never once kissed Stuck and this made Stuck feel very much
unloved...
Because Queen Absent was away so much, King Tyrant ruled the castle
and had some very strange ideas about what was good for little girls. Often,
in the middle ofthe night or in the middle of the day, Stuck would be sitting
in her parlour crying and wishing that her mother would come home and she
would hear the floorboards creak as King Tyrant ascended the stairs.
She could hear the fuming and the steaming of the King’s breath as her
parlour door opened and the King entered carrying his kettle of glue. Stuck
had seen the kettle of glue many times and hated it. In fact, just the sight of it
made her bones cold.
‘Now come along,’ the King said. ‘Lie upon your bed and open your
mouth as I have shown you to do.’
The little girl knew that she could not disobey the King, for his hands
were like a lion’s jaws and he could easily lift her from the floor and throw her
onto her bed.
When Stuck was on her bed and her mouth was open the King climbed up
on to the eiderdown with her, rested his knees, which were like the trunks of
trees, upon her arms and poured the glue from the kettle into her mouth.
Stuck wanted to cry and scream but she could not. She just lay helpless as she
felt the glue trickle down into her throat.
After the King had finished the pouring he left the room and descended
the stairs and Stuck knew when it was safe to move because the bottom stair
had a creaking sound that was deeper than all the rest. So when she was sure
that King Tyrant had reached the bottom ofthe stairs she would cry and try
to wash away the glue with water. But by then most of it had set hard in her
throat.
King Tyrant came to Stuck’s parlour with a kettle of glue many times and,
as the years passed, Stuck’s throat had so much glue in it that her voice
became stuck.
Then, one day, King Tyrant was killed in an accident with his horse and at
the funeral all the kings and queens and princes and princesses from all the
surrounding lands said what a great man he had been. Stuck found this hard
to hear because she knew that he was really a wicked man who liked to hurt
children with his kettle of glue. So Stuck decided that she would tell
everybody the truth about King Tyrant. However, when she opened her
mouth to tell the truth, her voice would not make any sound for it was
covered with so much glue. Whenever Stuck tried to tell her story, people
would look at her as if she was dumb as she gurgled and babbled.
So Stuck began a journey in search of a witch or wizard, a sorcerer or a
seer who could find the magic potion that would unstick her voice so that she
could let everybody know the truth about King Tyrant...
Client’s Fairy Tale: Richard

The Bird and the Brigadier
There was once a brave Brigadier whose voice boomed and whose heart
pounded with certainty and prowess. The Brigadier knew he was clever, he
knew he was smart and he knew that everybody else knew that he was clever
and smart.
The Brigadier’s voice was loud as a foghorn and whenever he spoke
people would listen to every word; and whenever he sung people would
listen to every note.
The Brigadier was such an important man that everybody wanted him to
visit their land so that he could speak to them with his loud and clever voice.
So the Brigadier befriended a great white bird called Stability. Whenever the
Brigadier needed to go to another land to sound his voice, he would mount
the great white bird called Stability and fly through the sky. So confident was
the Brigadier that the bird was stable that he would not bother to hold on to
the bird’s wings but would busy himself drinking a special potion called
Vidker that loosened and lubricated his voice.
But one day, whilst Brigadier was flying the great white bird and drinking
his Vidker, a storm came and tossed the bird asunder and the bird and the
Brigadier came crashing down to earth.
Now this crash so frightened the Brigadier that whenever he came to
open his mouth to speak or sing again, nothing came out but a faint and silly
squawk.
The Power of the Telling

In writing their fairy tale, clients often discover that they can express vividly
some of the more contentious and disconcerting aspects of their story with
greater courage than the literal documentary of their autobiography permits.
In play therapy, children can often speak indirectly about troublesome
concerns by creating an allegorical scenario with toys. The fairy tale acts in
the same way, enabling the client to speak indirectly about issues which may
be too embarrassing, disturbing or shameful to declare in the literal form of
autobiographical disclosure.
Usually, in group work, during the reading of the fairy tales, the
witnessing group are engaged on many levels. Emotionally, the group
members are moved to a new level offeeling as they hear the images from the
autobiographies amplified — as though the figurative amplification of the
image within the tale yields an amplification of empathic affect in the
audience. But simultaneously, the group will usually listen with an intrigue
and a fascination as though engaged in witnessing an artistic event. In this
regard, the teller is no longer fellow client or patient but performer, artist,
tale-teller, story-maker and source of inspiration. As each person reads their
tale, so each person experiences this emergent artist within and begins to
taste its healing power. It is a shift of self-image from client to artist and the
search for healing is to some extent redirected inwards towards the persons'’s
own creative resources.
Having arrived at the fairy tale from the autobiography, the next stage is
to find a new artistic form which will provide a container and a context for
the amplified imagery and affect and enable clients to intensify the
expression of the emotions associated with the origin of the tale whilst
simultaneously evolving the artistic process of creativity. This next stage
involves transforming fairy tale into song and unearthing the healing power
of singing.
CHAPTER 3
Priests, Bards and Shamans

A Brief History of Singing and Healing
In Ancient Greece
For centuries, the most consistently revered form of singing in the west has
been that displayed by the opera singer, whose virtuosity and skill
exemplifies for many the most highly developed form of vocal expression.
This operatic vocalisation originates in ancient Greece, where lone players
told the tales of the great myths accompanying themselves with a small
stringed instrument called a lyre and where they played all of the characters,
giving each one a distinctive vocal quality whilst retaining a neutral voice for
the narration. In time, these solo renditions developed into small ensemble
performances; and later playwrights wrote the mythical stories in dialogue
form and small groups of players came together and played one or two
characters each. In the process of transition from solo recitals in story and
music to actual musical and dramatic productions, the use of the mask was
added and the vocal dance of word and song emerged from the actor through
a hole cut into the mask at the mouth. The etymology of our term
‘personality’ is inextricably linked to this use of the human voice and
originates in these masked performances. The term ‘personality’ comes from
the Latin per sona which means ‘the sound passes through’ and was first used
to describe the mouthpiece of the mask worn by actors. It then came to
denote the character or person which the actor portrayed. Eventually the
word came to mean any person, and finally ‘personality’ as we now
understand it.
The new masked theatre productions became one of the most significant
contributions which the Greeks made to Europe’s future cultural and artistic
development; moreover, it was from one of these plays that Freud drew his
theory of the Oedipus Complex; it was these performances that inspired
Aristotle and Plato to speculate their philosophy of art and the nature of
42
PRIESTS, BARDS AND SHAMANS 43
human emotions; and it was in turn from these philosophies that Freud drew
the concept of‘catharsis’.
Aristotle proposed the theory that the audience who witness the
performances of the mythical tragedies experience the fate of the central
character intensely, as though it were their own. In particular, he
hypothesised that the onlookers feel immense pity for the character's
predicament and extreme fear in imagining that such a fate might befall
them. According to Aristotle, such active investment of beliefin the theatre of
tragedy gave rise to a means by which the audience could purge themselves of
the affects of pity and fear and thereby experience a genuine psychological
relief which he called catharsis. It was from these ideas concocted to describe
the psychological effect of theatre that Freud drew the term ‘cathartic
method’ which he originally used to describe his ‘talking cure’.
The plays of this cathartic theatre were performed by three or four actors
who played the main characters and a group of performers known as the
chorus who sang, yelled, spoke and chanted in a powerful and exuberant
mixture of prayer and narration, serving to work the actors and the audience
into a climactic state. Many of the texts from these plays still exist as do many
vivid descriptions of the productions by ancient philosophers, historians and
politicians who attended them. From these extant writings we know that the
actors and chorus recited their dialogue not in a fashion analogous with daily
speech, but with special intonations which were accentuated by the music of
a lyre or a flute-like instrument called an aulos. The bodily movements used
by the performers were also stylised, forming a choreographed gestural
dance which contributed to the overall arousing effect which the spectacle is
known to have had on the audience. To the modern ear this acoustic aspect of
Greek theatre would probably sound chaotic and lacking in all melody. There
and
was no concept ofmusical harmony and the utterances of the voice, pipes
discursive logic ofa
strings served the purpose not ofarticulating the formal
emotive
musical composition but of enhancing the text with exhilarating
create combination s of voice and
sounds, We know that the Greeks did not
instruments which a modern ear would describe as concordant. Although
occurred
such combinations as we might call harmonious may have
possible to
spontaneously in the course of playing, it would not have been
system of
plan it or fix it from one performance to the next because their
used
writing music down was not sophisticated enough. The Greeks simply
with some
the letters of their own alphabet to indicate notes on their scale,
When the
letters turned around to denote changes in the quality of a sound.
Romans infiltrated and overpowered Greek culture, they simply exchanged

the signs of Greek notation for their own alphabet, but did not significantly
elaborate its complexity.
Every play in Greek drama incorporates a spectrum of inarticulate sounds
which express grief, fear, joy or triumph and other emotions through vocal
sobs, groans, screams, gasps, laughs and ululations. These sounds are of
supreme importance for the emotional effects of Greek tragedy, initiating
physical and emotional vibrations which served the climactic atmosphere;
though of course, editors often ignore them and translators are commonly
satisfied with recording them as a perfunctory ‘oh’, ‘ah’, or ‘alas’.
The use of the voice in Greek theatre was clearly acrobatic and extensive,
serving to communicate emotions of extreme magnitude, the effect of which
was to arouse the passions of the audience to a high degree of excitation in
order that they might experience a catharsis. Indeed the term ‘audience’
comes from audio, meaning ‘I hear’. In ancient Greece then, theatre was
closely related to therapy by way of its cathartic effect; to the Greeks, the art
of theatre was by its very nature medicinal, and they held music in the same
regard. In Greek mythology, music and medicine were literally sister and
brother. The Muses were divine characters who invented music and reigned
over its human use and Aesculapius was the inventor of medicine capable
even of raising people from the dead. Both the Muses and Aesculapius were
fathered by Apollo and their charms were equally revered as being capable of
affecting the health of mortals. Apollo was thus regarded as the father of
medicine and of music and it was Apollo’s son Orpheus who came to be
regarded as the keeper of the mysteries of song and its healing powers. In the
myth of Orpheus, when the hero descends into the underworld to rescue his
beloved, he discovers that the power of his singing voice can pacify any
aggressor including Hades himself.
To the ancient Greeks, who were inspired particularly by Pythagoras, the
fundamental principles of music, such as rhythm, melody and proportion of
high and low, soft and loud, all had their equivalent in the human soul
or
psyche. The right music could therefore bring the soul into order and
integration whilst the wrong sounds could throw the whole person into
confusion, madness and disarray. During Roman times, Cicero, in the
tradition of Pythagoras, proclaimed that every emotion had a corresponding
vocal sound and he compared the tones ofthe voice to the strings ofthe lyre,
both of which he believed could be tuned to represent perfectly changes
in
human mood and temperament. Later still, during the Renaissance, the
notion ofa soul-map for the voice was further developed into principles for
the composition of vocal music. Renaissance composers took the four
elements of earth, water, air and fire, originally depicted by the Greek
philosopher Hippocrates, and equated them with different classical vocal
ranges. Earth was bass, water was tenor, alto was air and soprano was fire.
Each of the Hippocratic elements was thought to correspond respectively to
four humours in the body: blood, phlegm, yellow bile and black bile, the
balance between which was thought to be crucial for the healthy functioning
of the body. Vocal music was thus composed in such a way as to create a
harmonious and proportionate combination of the four vocal timbres and
thus induce an analogous equilibrium in the corresponding humours ofthe
body.
Enter the Romans

The Romans inherited from the Greeks the use of music and drama as a form
of mass public entertainment which formed an important part of
pre-Christian Roman life. However, with the coming of Christianity these
great pagan tales of raging gods and supreme heroes, whose deeds were
emulated in action with mask and song to the awe and wonder ofthe adoring
masses, disappeared. Worship and admiration for the ways of the deity took
on a more solemn form. An important part of the solemnity which is
associated with early Christian worship is the way in which holy scripture
was uttered in such sorrowful and non-elaborate tones by the church leaders
and worshippers alike. This was indeed a far cry from the spectacular vocal
renditions which the Greeks gave oftheir religious stories.
It was the pre-Christian Romans who invented the organ, originally a
contraption about ten feet high and four and a half feet wide — blown by
means of a weight of water whilst the later ones were air-blown by hand.
And, although those of the Christian church did not choose to inherit the
revelries and masked dramas from their pre-Christian antecedents, they did
retain the organ and by about 350 BC the first singing schools were
established in Europe to train singers to give voice to the words of God in
timely synonymity with the authoritative solemnity of the organ. By this
time the organs had become gigantic affairs and required two or three
players, called ‘organ beaters’, to thump the huge keys with gloved hands
whilst a group of ‘blowers’ pumped the bellows. But the simultaneous
combination of organ and choral singers was still a far cry from what later
became known as harmony.
As a result of these musical experiments with voice and organ, which had
no system of notation capable of restraining the impromptu expression of
feeling on any pitch, the once solemn chants became more elaborate and
often quite vigorous and the church authorities believed this to be
incompatible with the reverence due to God. As a result, the church made
strict rules dictating the kinds of vocal sounds and combinations thereof
which could and could not be used.
It was from this desire on the part of the clergy to control the nature of the
singing voice that the first singing schools of Europe sprang. Among the
most renowned was that implemented by Pope Sylvester in the early part of
the fourth century who established a musical conservatory, the Schola
Cantorum, where the principles of tone production and musical theory were
taught to ordained singers. With the passage of time the specific demands
and taboos of the church with regard to the singing voice became more
conservative and stipulations demanding what could and could not be sung
culminated in the infamous rulings of Pope Gregory the Great, during the
second half of the sixth century, whose strict stipulations ied to the Gregorian
chant which is still in use.
Systematic instruction in the art of singing therefore originally served the
process of ordaining those who could perform the musical services of the
church according to its taste. The presence of a trained élite at the service
naturally put the spontaneous vocalisations of the congregation to shame
and in 350 AD the Laodiciean Council and later the fourth Council of
Carthage decreed that congregational singing interfered with the beauty of
the musical service as held up by the trained singers and rules were drawn up
to limit the participation in the service by the congregation.
Singing Shamans
During the so-called dark ages which followed the collapse of the Roman
Empire in western Europe during the sixth century, lone players continued to
roam the lands singing and telling their own stories with the aid of music.
These singing tale-tellers who owed their birth to the ancient Greeks and
who remained untouched by the demands ofthe church, were to become a
significant part of European song culture. The most well known ofthese are
perhaps the troubadours, singing poets who flourished in southern France
throughout the twelfth, thirteenth and fourteenth centuries and whose
wandering lives full of passion and adventure made them the typical
romantic figures oftheir age. But the troubadours are only one example of
the many kinds of singers and poets who wandered alone and in groups
throughout Europe combining story, text and music to entertain in the
courts, in the taverns and on the streets.
Many cultures have, at various times in history, hosted travelling or local
artists whose function was to keep myth, mystery and indigenous religious
tradition alive through the oral expression of tale, narrative, parable and
song; and in many cases their function was also a healing one. The general
term for such persons is ‘bard’, who in more recent history have been seen as
mere entertainers but who stem from a shamanic tradition where mystical
knowledge of the myths and insight into rituals of healing, combined with
the artistic skill of the singer and reciter were contained in a single person. In
many ways, the bard is the precedent for the healing artists of today. Whilst in
French they were the troubadours, in Africa they were griots, in Norse they
were skalds, in Anglo-Saxon they were gleemen, in Russian they were the kalek:,
in India the magahda and in Japanese the zenza. Originally, these singers
healed mind and body with a musical medicine. But, in many cultures, the
bardic tradition eventually became one of entertainment, losing its original
connection to the priestly virtue of imparting mystical truths to the listeners
through the palatable and accessible form of musical song.
In most cultures then, the singer was a sorcerer and seer before he became
an artist; and the roots of oral traditional narrative are not artistic but spiritual
in the broadest sense. Indeed, it was the bard or the ‘singer of tales’ who
preserved not only a shamanic healing tradition in many indigenous cultures,
but who, in the European tradition, also preserved the great mythical epics
such as Beowulf, the Iliad and the Odyssey.
In many indigenous cultures that have been relatively untouched by the
ways of western medicine, the use of vocal sounds to heal the sick is or was
often the guarded practice of aselect member ofthe community — a medicine
the
woman, a magician, a sorcerer, a witch doctor or a shaman; and one of
significant similarities between the rituals of all cultures with a shamanic
content is the role played by the human voice in the process of healing.
In cultures where the medicinal services of shamans or other chosen
individuals have been or still are employed, the process of healing is
intimately connected with beliefina spiritual cause for physical illness, and
the treatment issued by the healer is aimed not at allaying the physical
symptom but at ridding the body and soul ofthe spirits which are thought to
be its cause.
Central to the act of spiritual exorcism by which the shaman flushes

causative evil from the sick patient is the process of catharsis by which the
patient discharges pestilent and violating spirits and emotions and is thereby
purified; and these bottled-up fragments of emotion and spirit often emerge
in the form of terrifying vocal noises which the patient emits whilst in a state
of semi-consciousness. In cultures where trance and spirit possession play a
role in the religious, ritual and curative process, song and non-verbal
utterance are often central to the curative process. Sometimes the utterance is
emitted using a vocal emission totally different from the ordinary singing
voice representative of a particular culture; such vocal sounds often have no
articulate words but are a string of syllables, cries, screeches and improvised
sonic forms which sustain the trance experience. In shamanism, this spiritual
aspect to disease brings a religious dimension to the healing process in which
the healer is not the objective and detached representative of science, but an
active participant in the liaison between the earthly life of the patient and the
spiritual world. This means that the shaman must sometimes take the evil
spirits from the patient into his own body and later coax them out through a
self-exorcism.
One of the most crucial gifts of the spirit world to the shaman is the song
which is believed to be the lost language of the animals that everyone could
speak long ago. Such shamanic songs, which have a therapeutic role, often
accompany the summoning of a guardian spirit or may express the search for
union with a particular animal considered to possess a special quality of
power. During healing ceremonies, the shaman usually dances deliriously,
singing the healing songs and uttering piercing cries or chanting a maniacal
and indecipherable spirit language. Often, such rituals are aided by an
onlooking audience who enforce the atmosphere of climactic purgation by
chanting, yelling, sobbing and screaming. All of this contributes to a
cathartic experience which is often central to shamanic ritual.
The culture of the American Indians, for example, has a long history of
using voice and song as an integral part of their healing rituals. In many of
the northern tribes part of the cure for illness involves finding the person
who knows the correct song appropriate to a particular illness. These
medicine songs come to certain ‘chosen ones’ in special prophetic dreams
which warn of the havoc that will be wreaked by the coming of a particular
disease. Often the singing of these songs is accompanied by the ritual
chanting of the whole family to the rhythmic beat of a rattle held by the
medicine man. Only by remembering and guarding the life-long existence of
the song can the dreamer protect the tribe from impending destruction and
these songs are therefore preserved by being passed down orally through the
generations.
But it is not only amongst the American Indians that singing forms or has
once formed part of the curative rituals for disease. Anthropologists report
the medicinal use of music, song and voice in many indigenous peoples
including the tribes of Papua New Guinea, the nomadic peoples of the
Sahara and the Sudan as well as the Aborigines of Australia, where among the
Wurajeri peoples, the process by which a novice becomes a doctor includes
having a spirit companion ‘sung into’ him by an elder. This ‘singing
transmission’ enables the power of the elder to duplicate itself in the novice,
enhancing the latter’s power without depleting that of the former. Among
the medicine men of the Yamana of Tierra del Fuego, singing also plays a
crucial role in initiation practices where only through vocalisation can an
initiate acquire the power of a healer and activate his shamanic soul.
These examples of a shamanic tradition represent a small vestige of what
was once a worldwide phenomenon which effected healing through the
power of singing.
Sounds of Contemplation
Parallel to the shamanic tradition of vocal healing is the contemplative
tradition of prayer and meditation where the voice plays an important role in
assisting spiritual purification and psychosomatic curation. The human voice
is used to such an end in traditions where singing or chanting sits at the
centre of a religious or esoteric discipline, such as that practised within
Tibetan Buddhism and that originating in Mongolia. In both of these
traditions, the singer is able to sound two notes at once by humming or
singing a single pitch whilst altering the shape and size ofthe oral cavity, thus
varying the harmonic spectrum ofa single note. Among these harmonics is
often a very high overtone which is as piercing and shrill as the fundamental
is basal and dark.
Among the chants most recognisable to contemporary ears is that which
accompanies a Buddhist meditation and which consists of repetitious
utterance of the sound OM. Such focused vocalisation is also widely pursued
in Indian Hindu contexts where the chanting articulates a mantra, that is a
Sanskrit prayer, and the repetition of the mantra, often on a single tone,
awakens the spirit and its ability to facilitate contemplation.
The Sanskrit chanting is connected to a perception of the human body

quite different from the western allopathic body-map. The body is perceived
as containing centres or wheels of energy spaced vertically parallel to the
spinal column. These wheels, known in Sanskrit as chakras, each have a
specific quality of energetic fabric and each effect the functioning of specific
bodily parts and organs. These chakras underpin the system of breath and
movement work known as yoga.
The chakras are connected to each other by fine threads or routes of
energetic matter called nadis and each main chakra is associated with a major
nerve plexus and an endocrine gland. Consequently, according to this view,
blockage or impedance in the flow of energy through the nadis or problems
with the receptivity and energetic permeability of the chakras can result in
general spiritual and emotional disturbance as well as physiological
pathology in a specific endocrine gland, nerve plexus or organ directly
associated with it. In Hindu and yogic literature the unique source which
activates the energy of the chakras and assists in the awakening of higher
consciousness is called the Kundalini, which in Sanskrit means ‘coiled
serpent’. This snake lies at the bottom of the chakra system in the region of
the first chakra, in many people sleeping and dormant. However, when the
snake is awakened, the energy rises up through the chakras, passing through
each one and facilitating enlightenment and higher consciousness.
The most widely practised means to achieve this awakening and rising of
energy is that of meditation, which, when practised regularly over a long
period of time causes the chakras to open and clear, from the root upwards to
the crown. One of the means to achieve this meditation is through
vocalisation and in the Hindu chanting, certain sounds stimulate and purify
the chakras, serving not only to awaken the soul and the spirit but to awaken
the body’s energetic and spiritual aspiration to health.
An aspect shared by many non-western approaches to healing is the
concept of ‘energy’, a vital life force which can be activated through song,
voice and chant. In Sanskrit this is known as prana; in Chinese it is chi; in
Japanese it is ki; in Tibetan it is thig-le or rlung. For example, another
body-map which relies upon a flow of energy through certain key points is
the ancient Chinese system which perceives a flow of an energy known as chi
through pathways known as meridians which have nexus points around the
body and which are utilised in acupuncture and acupressure. The chi energy,
which is perceived as physically and spiritually nutrient, enters the body at
the acupuncture points and seeps deeper into the organs of the body. There
are 12 pairs of meridians linked to specific organ systems. When the flow of
the chi becomes blocked at or near a particular acupuncture point, the
relevant organ system to that point becomes dysfunctional or diseased.
Thus, though entirely different in modality and form, both the ecstatic
shamanic tradition and the contemplative meditative tradition are founded
upon a fundamental belief in the relationship between vocal sound, spiritual
well-being and psychosomatic healing.
Meanwhile in Europe
Whilst in non-western cultures, spiritual practice and healing found
sisterhood in vocal expression through shamanic and contemplative
activities, music became increasingly formalised in the west and lost its
connection with therapeutic and spiritual intentions.
Around the sixth century AD the crude system of alphabetical notation
which had been originated by the Greeks was superseded by a system of
points, hooks, curves and lines placed above the words to be sung. These
signs, called ‘neumes’, became formalised so that to a trained singer each had
its own meaning. By this means it was possible to recall melodies already
committed to memory, but it still did not enable previously unheard songs to
be learnt, as the notation did not indicate pitch. It was not until around the
end ofthe ninth and beginning ofthe tenth century that the pitch of musical
notes began to be fixed by notation. However, there was still a long way to go
before the God-fearing men of the cloth were satisfied that the resulting
sound was in tune with their Master’s wishes and in the year 1020 a learned
Benedictine Monk called Guido of Arezzo wrote that ‘in the church service it
often sounds not as if we were praising God but rather as if we were engaging
in quarrelling amongst ourselves’.
Guido set out to remedy this lack of harmonious concord amongst
worshipping vocalists by developing the system of notation which was to
give birth to the well-known tonic scale still in use: doh-ray-me-fah-soh-
la-te-doh. Guido’s success in creating the four line stave and fixing a named
scale of notes has led him to be known as the father ofliterate music as we
now know it.
The founding of this scale had and continues to have an insidious yet
dominating effect on the art ofsinging training and on the accessibility of
song for many people. For it made singing training irreversibly synonymous
with musical training, an equation still visible today in the fact that singing
teachers almost invariably work through the medium of set literately notated
music. Moreover, it is impossible for a student to enter any of the major

western training schools or conservatories to study singing without the
ability to read music. The fact that musical literacy has become an
unquestioned prerequisite for training in western culture is a testimony to
our cultural arrogance and sense of supremacy for, in the vast majority of the
remaining world, singing is not related to any kind ofliteracy at all. In the
west, however, singing lessons and the act of singing are terrifying and often
inaccessible notions and vast numbers of people feel alienated from training
their singing voices because they do not have a so-called aptitude for or
ability to read music. Musical instinct has been sequestered and subsumed by
musical literacy. Yet, in its origin, singing in Europe was a dramatic use of the
voice to articulate story without regard for scale or fixed melody.
The Genesis of Opera

Around the ninth century, the Christian Church began to introduce music
and drama into its services where Easter Passions and Christmas Nativities
which contained spoken text and sung choruses became a part of Christian
ceremony throughout Europe. The origin of the idea of a religious story told
in music, speech and song, which constituted the fundamental concept of
these Christian performances, is rooted in the ancient history of Greece. But
the formal structuring of music, which was developed primarily in the hands
of the church, completely altered the way that the voice was used. In Greek
tragedy it was unbound by fixed musicality and served instead to encapsulate
the emotional tones, rhythms and atmospheres of the myth being played. In
Christian service however, the voice now served to articulate the written
score which was attached to the words arbitrarily and in a manner completely
dislocated from the emotive impulse generated by the utterance of the word.
However, in Italy towards the end of the sixteenth century there lived an
influential man of music, Giovanni de’ Bardi, the Count of Vernio, who
invited to his house the most celebrated and learned men of music and letters
where they gathered to form a society of fellows whose shared aim was to
rediscover the way in which the ancient Greeks had used voice, movement,
music and drama in their theatre. It was from the meetings of this exclusive
musical society called the Camerata, which took place over a period of 30
years in seventeenth-century Florence, that opera as people know it today
was born. When Count Bardi moved to Rome in 1592 the meeting place of
the Camerata changed to the house of the younger Jacopo Corsi who kept his
house open like a public academy for all those interested in the liberal arts. It
was here in 1598 that what is considered to be the first true opera was
performed. The opera was called Dafne, with music composed by Peri.
Peri was convinced that the ancient Greeks had used a form of vocal
expression more musical than that of ordinary speech but less melodious than
song as the church had conceived ofit, to produce an intermediate form. Peri
was aiming for something between the slow and suspended movements of
song and the swift and rapid movements ofspeech and said that he wanted to
‘imitate speech in song’ and use ‘elegances and graces’ that cannot be
notated.
Amongst the members of the Camerata was the great vocal soloist Giulio
Caccini who became the academy’s authority on solo singing technique.
Caccini was also inspired by his belief that the ancient Greeks had possessed
a natural ability to express human emotions through the voice and he
combined this with his development of fixed notated musical composition.
The aim of his teaching was to nurture singers to bring full expression to the
portrayal of human emotions whilst retaining musical harmony with the
supporting instruments. It was from this objective of Caccini and others that
the school of composers and singers known as Bel Canto arose.
‘Bel Canto’ is an Italian term which literally means ‘beautiful song’ and
was the particular art of singing and vocal training which flourished in Italy
throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries in response to the need
for emotional genuineness and authenticity combined with musical precision
and virtuosity. Bel Canto singing was passed on through the classic singing
schools ofFlorence, Rome, Naples, Bologna and Milan though the term ‘Bel
Canto’ was not used until towards the end ofthe nineteenth century.
The special art of the Bel Canto singers consisted in their ability to
communicate a genuine expression of human emotion by singing precisely
notated musical phrases with a wide range ofqualities or timbres, spanning a
vocal range of three octaves without losing refinement and eloquence of
verbal diction. Unlike more recent classical singing for the opera, where the
singer is trained to specialise in or is restricted to a single timbral quality, the
Bel Canto singer could sing a vast array ofqualities, covering tenor, baritone,
soprano and mezzo soprano, for example. A Bel Canto voice had to be
moulded in infinite degrees, passing through all the colours of the sound
prism.
The core principle of the Bel Canto technique rests in the malleability and
articulation of the resonating spaces above the vocal folds, particularly the
pharynx. The shape of the vocal tract, which acts like an elastic tube,
influences the timbre of the sound made by vibrating vocal folds. By

nurturing the maximum malleability of this tube, acquiring the ability to
lengthen and shorten it as well as controlling its diameter, the Bel Canto
singers produced a panoply of timbres which could represent the full canvas
of human emotion. It is this articulation of the vocal tract that gives rise to the
set of vocal timbres which form part of the Voice Movement Therapy system
of voice training, profile and analysis which I have developed and which I
have described in detail elsewhere (Newham 1997b, 1998, 1999). The
internal movement of the vocal tract during vocalisation can also be seen by
means of a fibre optic camera passed through the nasal passages and into the
larynx as shown on the video Shouting forJericho (Newham 1997a).
The Discovery of the Vocal Folds

The emphasis on the malleability of the vocal tract which underpinned Bel
Canto teaching was countermanded by an alternative focus on the
significance of the vocal folds. Leonardo da Vinci was one of the first to
attempt to analyse the larynx which he did by extracting respiratory tracts
from cadavers. But it was the French anatomist, Antoine Ferrein, who
discovered, while dissecting corpses in 1741, two ‘shelves’ in the larynx and
assumed that the human voice was caused by their vibration induced by air
being blown forward from the lungs like bellows. He named these shelves the
cordes vocales and his discovery of the production of vocal sound received
widespread recognition. This attention drawn to the vocal folds as the most
significant aspect in the production of vocal tone contributed to the erosion
of Bel Canto techniques, which had been concerned with the elasticity of the
resonating spaces.
Manuel Vicente del Popolo Garcia was a great singer and singing teacher
who trained his son in the Bel Canto style but treated him harshly, beating
him and degrading him regularly. While his sisters became famous for their
singing, Manuel Garcia junior was a failure. Seeking to find the answers to
his own failure he took up the vocal fold theory of Ferrein and conducted
some experiments on the larynxes of poultry in which he produced sounds
with bellows. Inspired by the sight of a dentist using a mirror he constructed
a contraption by which he could observe his own vocal folds. Although he
had not received fame as a singer, he now became famous as the inventor of
the laryngascope, a small metal instrument which is placed in the mouth and
enables the larynx and vocal folds to be observed.
When his father died in 1832, Manuel Garcia junior took on the role of
director of his father’s singing school assuming, without justification, a
reputation for being a great singing teacher. By 1856 he was so famous that
his methods, by now articulated in widely disseminated books, became
acknowledged as the finest in Europe.
The decline of Bel Canto may be attributed in part to Ferrein and Garcia
who, with a dangerously small and historically premature knowledge of
laryngeal function, abandoned the intuitive and emotional insight of the
anatomically blind singers. But another reason why the emphasis on
flexibility of vocal characteristics or timbres was not to last long in the
development of opera was because composers began to demand voices
specialised in one particular quality of sound. Operas were written which
contained the demand for one voice high as a nightingale and another low as
a bear, both with precise musical phrases; and from this development came
the operatic specialisations of soprano, mezzo, contralto, tenor, baritone and
bass.
Whilst the Bel Canto singers were intent on mastering the arts of
extending the different possible emotive qualities and imagistic
characteristics on each note, later singers have sought to specialise in the
perfection of a single operatic quality of voice and have been loath to try and
extend the range associated with it. Furthermore, the increasingly elaborate
complexity of musical composition has led to a process of training operatic
singers which has become more influenced by the technical demands ofthe
music and less connected to the primal and fundamental role ofthe voice as
the expression of emotion, narrative and experience.
From Talking Cure to Singing Cure

The history of the development ofthe singing voice in the west is one which
charts a change from the use of the voice as an expression of emotion,
narrative and tale to a use ofthe voice which is subservient to a formal system
of logic born from the stipulations of religious hierarchy. Inherent in a
therapeutic use ofvoice is an attempt to reverse this process and facilitate an
environment where clients can discover an instinctive musicality with which
to give artistic expression to their own tales.
It may seem at first that there is no connection between the roots of
singing in the west and the roots of psychotherapy. Yet the connection is in
fact a vital one.
Sigmund Freud initiated the practice of psychoanalysis which in turn

brought about the profession of psychotherapy, a form of medicine in which
the cure is contained by the words which the patient speaks. Freud discovered
the Talking Cure. Indeed, psychotherapy is as much a study of language as it
is of the psyche. For, central to the modality of psychotherapy is the process
by which the client or patient gives voice to thought, feeling, fantasy and
fact. It is an act of vocalisation and audition.
The most common complaint amongst Freud’s early patients in the late
nineteenth century consisted of bodily pains for which there appeared to be
no physiological explanation. These included headaches, paralysed limbs,
stomach upsets, respiratory problems and disturbances of speech, sight and
hearing. Freud claimed to have discovered that the cause of these ‘phantom
diseases’ usually consisted of a psychological trauma which the patient had
experienced in the past, in some cases many years prior to the occurrence of
the physical problem which had brought her to the doctor. Indeed, quite
frequently it was a distressing childhood event, the emotional effects of
which continued to disturb the patient long after it had apparently been
forgotten.
Freud referred to these patients as hysterics: those in whom the emotional
reaction or affect provoked by a specific psychological trauma had been
converted into a physical symptom which persisted for many years
afterwards. The hysteric seemed genuinely unable to recollect the
precipitating event and had no idea of the causal connection between it and
the bodily dysfunction.
Freud identified two distinct processes by which psychological trauma
became converted into physical symptoms. The first process occurred when a
person experienced a particular mental trauma whilst suffering from a
genuine physiological disease. Although the person recovered from the
disease, the physical symptoms recurred whenever he or she was reminded of
the traumatic event which originally accompanied it. Let us take, for
example, someone suffering from the severe stomach pains caused by
appendicitis during which time the person suffers the mental trauma of being
bereft of a close relative, which naturally arouses a strong affect of grief. If
this person has a ‘hysterical disposition’ he or she may continue to
experience the stomach pains whenever grief is aroused by new situations
involving a bereavement, even long after the appendix has been removed. In
such an example, a physical symptom originally generated by organic causes
is later revived as an expression of a psychological affect, simply because by

chance they originally occurred simultaneously.
The second process involved the patient’s unwitting translation of a
verbal phrase from its metaphorical into its literal meaning. For example, a
traumatic event which morally disgusts and is abhorred by the patient may
precipitate sporadic fits of vomiting because the linguistic term ‘to be sick’ is
translated from its metaphorical description of psychological disgust into its
literal designation of vomiting. A man who is being continually pressurised
by his colleague to agree to a transaction that he feels is suspect and dubious
may begin to suffer from numbness in his arm, because his work partner is
metaphorically ‘twisting his arm’ over the deal. A ‘slap in the face’ describes
both a severe facial neuralgia and the affect of a swiping insult; feeling
choked describes both respiratory constriction about the larynx, and the
affect of deep sadness. By converting such linguistic metaphors into a literal
somatic experience the hysteric could genuinely feel severe spinal pain when
people ‘got his back up’, experience agonising shooting pains in the
fore-limbs when colleagues ‘twisted his arm’ over an issue at work, or be
caused to vomit when morally disgusted. Hysterical patients therefore
possessed a particular susceptibility to the power of suggestion or
imagination. Through careful aural observation ofthe patient’s speech, Freud
noticed that many linguistic phrases which patients used to describe physical
symptoms at the same time denoted emotional responses; this provided the
key to the precipitating trauma.
Freud believed that in both processes the persistence of the bodily
symptom was caused by the patient’s insufficient active emotional reaction to
the original event or scene, which had consequently become ‘strangulated’
or ‘bottled up’. Freud compared the psyche to an electrical system which
becomes charged with a certain amount of energy when it is affected by an
event. For example, a patient who is insulted becomes excited in such a way
as to increase the amount of energy in the nervous system. In healthy
situations this increase in energy is immediately expended by the individual's
responsive reactions which can be verbal or physical, such as a bout of
abusive swearing or a histrionic waving of fists. Freud described such active
responses as ‘motor activity’ because they were stimulated by the
neurological impulses of the motor neurons which stem from the central
nervous system; the function of such activity was to bring the energy level of
the psyche back to astate of balance or neutrality. If, however, for reasons of
social prohibition or personal inhibition, the individual represses the
response, refrains from responsive motor activity and retains the increased
energetic excitation, it becomes bottled up and seeks expression by
converging upon a weak spot localised in a part of the body. Freud described
the ideal expenditure of increased energy through motor activity in response
to the original event as ‘abreaction’ and proposed that the physical
symptoms of hysteria were the result of the emotional affect having been
insufficiently abreacted.
Freud proposed that he had discovered a method of curing the somatic
disease by helping the patient to remember the original upsetting experience
which had accompanied the genesis of the physical symptom. This involved
a thorough psycho-archaeological excavation of the patient’s past in search
of a single precipitating trauma which, when remembered and articulated,
allegedly caused the symptom to vanish forever.
However, the somatic cure was not achieved through recollection without
affect; the patient had to revive and re-enact the same intensity of emotional
response to the memory of the event as was evoked by its original occurrence.
Freud thus claimed to have discovered that each individual hysterical
symptom immediately and permanently disappeared when he succeeded in
bringing clearly to light the memory of the event by which it was provoked,
in arousing its accompanying affect, in enabling the patient to describe that
event in the greatest possible detail, and in successfully facilitating the client
to put the emotion into words. But, most significantly, Freud asserted that the
recollection of the event without emotion almost invariably produced no
therapeutic result and that the event which originally took place must
therefore be expressed as vividly and emotionally as possible (Freud
1953-74).
In encouraging the patients not only to verbally remember, that is to put
back together the original event, but also to imbue the text of this memory
with expression of the full emotional excitation which had been denied at the
time of its first occurrence, Freud gave the patient a second chance to
complete his reaction and in so doing release both the stored affect and along
with it the somatic symptom which had hitherto served to contain it. Freud
described this process of giving vent to stored-up feeling as ‘catharsis’, a
word which he took from the effect upon the audience which Aristotle said
was achieved by ancient Greek theatre. Freud thus took a term which
Aristotle had used to describe the effect of an artistic event upon an audience
and applied it to the effect of his Talking Cure (Freud 1953-74).
Freud proposed that the psychosomatic dysfunction came to an end as

soon as the patient had spoken about it. Even if the original abreaction would
normally have involved a muscular or physical reaction, such as for example a
punch or other kinetic display of aggression, the full abreaction could be
achieved the second time around through words alone; thus, according to
Freud, words are substitutes for deeds. However, because the verbal memory
of the precipitating trauma had to be experienced in full emotional depth,
the patient was encouraged not to remember in a cool, detached and
reflective way but to speak as though he or she were experiencing it all over
again. If the patient simply spoke the words which described the
remembered event with no emotional recollection, the cure was ineffectual.
It was, therefore, not the words alone that performed the cure, but the voice
which expressed all the emotions associated with the memory through its
acoustic tonal and timbral quality, ranging from sobbing to rage, from bitter
grief to intimidated fear. Freud’s medicine was not in fact a talking cure, but a
vocal cure.
Freud forgot the artistic dimension to the cathartic experience and
ignored a large part of the human voice by focusing so single-mindedly upon
the spoken word. To fill our memories with emotion requires us to use the full
range of our voice to express the full range of our feelings. And nowhere do
we witness such a use ofthe voice more intensely than in the art ofsinging.
In Voice Movement Therapy, the original cathartic vision is transposed
from a talking cure to a singing cure.
CHAPTER 4
From Fairy Tale to Song

Creating Rhapsody from the Themes
of Personal Experience
The Therapeutic Art of the Ballad

A ballad is a story told in song and musicalises a narrative journey; and to sing
a ballad based on one’s own story brings a new therapeutic dimension to the
healing process. Throughout history, people have sung of their plight, their
woes and their history. And the more fraught with oppression, struggle and
difficulty a group of people are, the healthier and livelier their song culture is.
No one has ever discovered a culture, a tribe or a society which does not
sing. Every group of people shares a body of song: from the nomadic tribes
of the Icelandic snow planes to the Aborigines of the Australian desert; from
the Indians of the Peruvian forest to the Masai warriors of the Kenyan bush;
from the introverted communities of the Mongolian mountains to the
extroverted explorers of North America. Singing is a universal custom and
the songs of a culture express its beliefs and taboos, its worries and its
victories. The communal spirit of a society is preserved in song.
Singing has always been an enlivening communal activity which has
brought people together in joy and in grief, in sorrow and in jubilation. At
the wedding feast and in the funeral procession, in the cotton fields and
along the railroads, in the gospel halls and in the chapels, among marching
soldiers and protesting prisoners, among the faithful and among those who
despair — singing has, since the earliest times, released people from isolation
and enabled those from all quarters of the globe to make themselves known
to God and to the world.
Singing implies promise of redemption. Singing inspires hope where all
else fails. Singing loosens the chains of the enslaved, rattles the bars of the
imprisoned, mobilises the strength of the starving and defies the domination
of self-appointed oppressors. Singing gives dominion to those without
60
FROM FAIRY TALE TO SONG 61
territory, passes time for those who await judgement and gives voice to a part
of the soul which can not be beaten, broken or beleaguered. Indentured
slaves sang in the cotton fields of North America; captive hostages sang in
the jails of the Middle East; Kurdish families sang as they fled across the
Turkish border; British convicts sang aboard the giant vessels which
transported them to Australia; teenage soldiers joined with their enemies to
sing Christmas carols in the snow-drenched trenches of the First World War;
abandoned children have sung themselves to sleep in the lonely and
impersonal dormitories of their orphanage; incarcerated Jews sang to
themselves in the cells of concentration camps; minorities of every
persuasion have sung through nocturnal vigils outside houses of parliament
and government; marching protesters have sung in defence of those who
have been wrongly accused and entire communities have congregated to
sing in worship oftheir maker. Songs are sung to commemorate victory and
commiserate in defeat; songs are sung to celebrate birth, death, marriage and
anniversary; songs are sung to protest against injustice, to honour
achievement, to encapsulate history, to envision the future, to resound the
sentiment ofpride and to give form to rage and loathing. A song may speak
of love and terror, crime and compassion. In song we can sing the
unspeakable. There is not an emotion or thought, an instinct or desire which
cannot be perfectly communicated through song.
Practical Method: The Journey Song

Having written and presented both an autobiography and a fairy tale, the
client is now asked to write the lyrics for a song which encapsulates their life
journey. The client is encouraged to combine the literal documentary writing
style of the autobiography with the allegorical imagistic style ofthe fairy tale
to form a third style born from the two. This third style is written as a series of
lyrics which are intended to be sung; however, the client is encouraged not to
consider melody at all but to concentrate only on the literary aspects.
Again, to help the client focus it is useful to suggest that they set aside
specific writing periods — usually an hour per day for one or two weeks. The
client may use the first set of writing hours to draft the story and the latter
periods to rewrite and make the editorial alterations and adjustments which
bring the journey song to fruition.
When the task is completed, the next stage offers the client an
opportunity to read the lyrics of the journey song aloud to the practitioner, or
in the case of group work, to the entire ensemble. The audience is asked to
listen generously and not to intervene or remark in any way.
Client’s Song: Vicky

Ungluing the Voice
As a child, Vicky was repeatedly abused by her father who made her engage
in oral sex. Her memories were very vivid, particularly the feeling of ‘a numb
helplessness’ in her body as her father knelt on her arms to keep her down.
Vicky came to work on herself through Voice Movement Therapy because,
although psychotherapy had enabled her to deal with and overcome many of
the issues and heal some of the damage, some problems remained. The main
problem was afeeling of tightness in her throat and what she described as ‘an
incredibly inhibited voice’. Whenever she came to project her voice or speak
up about something important, she would feel a ‘stickiness’ in her throat, as
though her voice was ‘covered with something’ that made it ‘dull and unable
to flow fluidly’.
After the Voice Movement Journey session in which Vicky had read
excerpts from her autobiography, I had asked participants to rewrite the story
as the lyrics for a song. Vicky returned with the following lyrics which she
read aloud:
Sperm and cream it makes me scream
Daddy made me suck his big Jimmy Dean
My arms went dead and the voice in my head
Told me to endure this sight obscene
I was only little with no real choice
Oh please God let me take the glue from my voice
I have tried to fight and punch and kick
To expel from my mouth his big salty prick
But the more I try the more I cry
And I choke and spew and people wonder why
For Dad is dead and no one gets
Why my voice is stuck and why I seem upset
But if Ifeel quite safe and no one hurts me so
I can relax my body and I start to let go
And when I do my voice unglues
And I start to hear myself afresh and anew
At the end of this rendition, Vicky recalled that after an abusive episode as she
lay alone on her bed, she would often sing to herself very quietly as a way of
comforting herself; it was something that no one could take from her and it
gave her a place to put her distress, loneliness and shame. Now she found that
reading the lyrics to her song fulfilled some ofthe same function. It gave her
a means to release the emotions associated with her ordeal but also provided
a place to put them. However, she was now eager to musicalise the lyrics and
sing them; and this is the next stage in the process of Voice Movement
Therapy.
Client’s Song: Richard

I Heard the Plane Come Down
Richard was one of a few who had survived an aeroplane crash. Though he
had remarkably and miraculously not sustained any serious physical injury,
the event had severe consequences regarding his mental and emotional life.
His symptoms included insomnia, nightmares, periods of extreme
depression, suicidal fantasies and panic attacks. Before the accident, Richard
had been an outspoken person with a loud and resonant voice. Now, his
speaking voice was almost a whisper and he felt nervous when called upon to
speak up for himself. Richard had come into therapy because he wanted to
refind both his singing voice in order that he could rejoin a choir and his
speaking voice so that he could ‘begin to put his life back together’.
The only optical memory which Richard had of the plane crash was
seeing the head of the person he was sitting adjacent to separate from his
body. The rest was, he said ‘complete darkness’ until he was placed upon a
stretcher by the medical team. What Richard did have was a complete
spectrum of acoustic memories: engine noises, announcements ofthe pilot,
the screams ofthe passengers and the sirens of the emergency team. Indeed
when Richard told the story, most of his sentences which described the three
minutes leading up to the point of impact — at which he became buried by
debris and contained by darkness — began with the words: ‘I heard’.
For example, he said ‘I heard the pilot announce his apologies for the
difficult take-off’: he said ‘I heard the crashing ofthe glasses in the steward
area’: he said ‘I heard the sirens of the emergency team and I knew I was
alive’; and he said ‘I heard someone say: “It’s all right we are going to get you
”
out.
I could not help being struck by the rhythm and tonality of the repetitious
use of the motif ‘I heard’ which began each of his sentences. I therefore
suggested to Richard that he used this motif to write the lyrics for his song.
When it came to Richard’s turn to read the lyrics, he read:
I heard the engine rumble
I heard the plane jolt
I heard the captain say there was a problem
I heard the passengers cry
I heard the woman behind me praying
I heard the scraping of metal on tarmac
I heard the tyres skidding
I heard sirens whistling
I heard someone ask if I could hear them
I heard the plane come down
As Richard read the words, he swayed slightly from side to side and his voice
trembled as tears swelled up in his eyes. The atmosphere in the room was
intense and the group was absolutely still. Afterwards Richard said, ‘I need to
sing this. I need to give this music.’
The Music in the Words

Oral communication between adults is composed of two dimensions: voice
and speech. The term ‘voice’ refers to the sound produced by the vibrating
vocal cords. The term ‘speech’ refers to the shaping of these sounds into
words by articulating the mouth, lips, jaw and tongue. In fact, the term
‘linguistic’ comes from lingua, the Latin word for tongue. The sound of the
voice, independent of the words uttered, is composed of different ingredients
including pitch, breathiness and loudness which combine in different
proportions to form a range of colours or timbres; and it is the timbre of the
voice which acts as the messenger for our state of mind, moods, emotions and
inner attitudes. In Voice Movement Therapy, the human voice is perceived as
a composite of ten such fundamental components which combine to produce
a spectrum of voice qualities and types. This system of component voice
analysis is described in the following chapter and outlined briefly in
Appendix 1 of this volume. It is also explained fully in the book Therapeutic
Voicework: Principles and Practice for the Use of Singing as a Therapy (Newham
1997b) and presented on the audio course The Singing Cure (Newham 1998).
Most people are quite aware that the same spoken phrase can be uttered in
such a variety oftimbres as to communicate significantly different meanings.
In the words of acommon but wise adage: ‘it is not what you say but the way
that you say it’. But in addition to the timbre of the voice, speech is
articulated with a certain prosody. Prosody is the music which underpins
language, it is the rise and fall in pitch which brings attitude and implication
to what we say and engages the listener in a way that monotone would not. In
rare situations, a change in prosody can actually change the meaning ofthe
words. For example, take the sentence ‘Jane kissed Susan’s mother and then
Susan kissed her’. If you speak this so that the final word ‘her’ is uttered on
the same note as the preceding word ‘kissed’, then the sentence
communicates that Susan kissed her mother. However, if you say ‘Jane kissed
Susan’s mother and then Susan kissed her’ so that you stress the last word and
utter it on a sliding scale, the sentence communicates that Susan kissed Jane.
This is an example of how prosody influences meaning. Most ofthe time,
however, prosody does not alter meaning but brings character and emotional
colour to what we say. It is the music of our speech.
Although the voice may give speech its emotional meaning, it does not
necessarily simply enforce the verbal content. For example, if the speaker is
in some kind of personal conflict, the verbal and vocal channels may carry
contradictory information. This is called incongruence and often occurs
when the words we choose paint a public face which disguises our true
feelings. We say that we are willing to do something for a friend with a tone
of voice which reveals a reluctance to help; we say that we are ‘doing fine’
whilst we are actually choked with sadness. When such an incongruence
between the vocal and verbal message occurs, the voice is more likely to
reveal the truth about the personality than the speech.
A common kind of incongruence can often be heard in the acoustic
messages conveyed to children by their parents and many clients have been
raised ona staple diet of confused and ambivalent messages. As a result, they
in turn can find it hard to convey a single intention or feeling. Instead, they
paint one picture with the words which they speak and another with their
vocal intonation.
For example, I once worked with a man whom we shall call Michael who
was an only child and who had been raised by a single mother. The mother
was frail, lonely and dependent upon her son for company. Whenever
Michael announced that he was going out alone, to spend time with a friend
or to take part in the social activities befitting his age, his mother’s words
would wish him well and encourage him on his way. However, her tone of
voice would give Michael the impression that she really didn’t want him to
go. This had made it very difficult for Michael to leave his mother. Even as an
adult, he felt that in some way he ought to be at home looking after her.
Michael found it very difficult to be clear about his needs, particularly in his
relationships with women. He would want affection but convey an attitude
of cold detachment. He would wish to bring a relationship to an end, but
continue to humour someone, too afraid to be clear about his feelings.
The Musical Brain

The neurological organisation of logical processes such as speaking,
counting and rationalising are localised in the left hemisphere of the brain.
Non-logical processes such as emotive vocal expression, artistic creativity
and fantasising, meanwhile, are localised in the neurology of the right
hemisphere. This is why people who have suffered a stroke may lose the
ability to utilise the spoken word but can remember and sing songs. The
ability to sing is dealt with by the right hemisphere, whilst language is
processed by the left hemisphere. The sad thing is that singing often becomes
a left hemisphere activity when people learn to read and write music. Then,
rather than singing remaining an improvisational, creative act with tunes and
lyrics drawn from memory and inspiration, the act of singing becomes a
logical and literary operation with tunes read from the crotchets and quavers
upon the page.
During the preverbal stage of development, the young infant draws upon
the musical and emotional centres of the right hemisphere to call out a
spontaneous and intuitive sonata of sound which gives direct expression to
mood, instinct and emotion. But as the child enters verbal language, the left
hemisphere begins to dominate the scene and the logical and rational code of
spoken discourse replaces the aesthetic code of musical expression. In
western society the powers of the left hemisphere are held in high esteem
whilst the domain of the right hemisphere is considered to be less important.
Children’s progress is measured in terms of how readily they are able to
master logical operations, even if the logic is in discrepancy with the senses.
For example, two of the functions operated by the left hemisphere are that of
mathematics and spatial geometry; and a child is rewarded for mastering
these fields. Yet many of the conclusions formed by this framework have little
to do with reality. Our senses tell us that if you drop a brick from 500cm
above the ground it will hit the floor very quickly. But the maths tells us that it
must first fall half the distance, bringing it 250cm from the floor, then half
that distance, bringing it 125cm from the ground, then half that distance,
bringing it 62.5cm from the ground and so on ad infinitum. According to the
wisdom of left hemisphere mathematics and spatial geometry, the brick
would never reach the floor but would spend forever travelling smaller and
smaller distances.
In the early stages of life a child is unable to conceive that an object
continues to exist when it can not be touched, seen, heard, smelled or tasted;
the child’s knowledge derives from the senses. However, the child gradually
realises that objects continue to exist even when their presence can not be
experienced. This realisation is coincident with the process of learning to
name things. By attaching names and numbers to things the child can
manipulate and organise the words and numerals instead ofthe things which
they stand for. However, words are not things and numbers do not obey the
reality of physical quantity. So from the moment the child becomes verbal
and numerate, an abyss opens up between the intelligence of the senses and
the intelligence oflogic.
When we listen to music and allow it to work upon our emotions and
elicit musings and fantasies from our imagination, we are drawing on the
intuitive propensity of the right hemisphere; when we sing spontaneously
and create improvised melodies, we are also drawing on the instinctive
creativity of the right hemisphere; and when we recall a song from memory
and give it voice we are again drawing on the right hemisphere. But, when we
read music from the score upon the page or write our improvised melody
down with crotchets and quavers, we are using the logical capacity ofthe left
hemisphere.
Psychologists have recently uncovered some astounding facts about what
happens to young children regarding these different relationships to music.
First, they took many groups of children and witnessed them playing freely
with their voices and with instruments, creating their own music through
improvisation and describing the atmospheres, images and feelings evoked
by each other’s compositions. Then they split all the groups into two. One
half ofeach group then spent several years learning to play an instrument and
acquiring the ability to write and read formal music notation. Meanwhile, the
second half of each group continued to explore musical improvisation
without formal music training. They discovered that those who acquired the
formal musical ability of the left hemisphere lost the ability to improvise and
describe the emotionality of sounds, whilst those who avoided the formal
training developed advanced creative skills and an acute emotional

sensitivity to sound. The term for the destruction of musical intuition as a
result of formal training has been called the ‘wipe out effect’.
We all rely upon the musicality of our voice to express the emotional
content of our speech. Because we all rely on the music of our words to voice
the emotionality of our speech, we all rely upon the intuitive potential of our
right hemisphere. Yet, because we are all so overburdened with the need to
master the logical aspects of life with our left hemisphere, we are victims of a
wipe out effect. The irrational, instinctive, spontaneous emotional parts of
ourselves get wiped out by the stringent and punctilious code of articulate
logic. The effect is that we lose most of our innate musicality and bury the
songful sonatas of the heart, retaining only that small vestige of melody
which we need to bring prosody to our speech. Singing, which for the infant
is the most natural form of expression, becomes charged and laden with fear
and trepidation. Singing becomes something that we have to learn to do. Yet
originally it was an instinct which we all possessed. Fortunately, however,
instincts cannot be completely wiped out; they can only be driven
underground.
Voice Movement Therapy involves uncovering the original instinct to
sing and recalling the song ofthe soul. It is important for us to remember that
the composition of song is a gift with which we were all blessed and one of
the ways to retrieve it is to take the prosody of the spoken word and turn it
back into melody, which is where it originates in the first place. For we sang
out our feelings long before we spoke our thoughts.
Practical Method: Musicalising the Journey Song

Melody is merely exaggerated prosody, and because everybody uses prosody
quite naturally, everyone has the potential ability to create melodies and make
songs from their creative writing.
In this exercise, the client first reads the journey song in the same way as
both the autobiography and the fairy tale have been read. Then the second
time, the client listens carefully to the prosody underpinning the words:
where the voice rises and where it falls in pitch; where the voice sustains and
where it decays; where a string of syllables or words are uttered with notes in
close proximity and where the voice moves across a broad pitch scale. Then,
the client voices the journey song a third time, exaggerating this prosody and
allowing it to turn into the outline of amelody. The fourth time, the client
sings the journey song with a tune which has arisen organically from the
prosody ofthe reading.
Client’s Account: Vicky

Changing Tune
The tune that emerged from the prosody of my lyrics reminded me of a
nursery rhyme in that it was very simple and very rhythmic. The
combination between the simple, innocent, child-like melody and the
extremely non-innocent words put me in touch with the hideous
relationship between an innocent child and sexual abuse; and it brought
it home to me in a way that filled my singing with emotion. I felt like I
was singing as both a child and an adult and my voice wavered between
naiveté and bitterness. One moment I sounded like a baby and another
like an old woman.
As I sang, I recalled again how, when I was little, after an abusive episode,
I would often sing quietly to myself after my father had left my room. I
guess this was a kind of comforting. I was maybe mothering myself.
Occasionally my mother would actually sing to me. In fact this was one
of the few tender things I can remember her doing. And I remember that
I loved it and would not want it to stop.
Singing the song created the sense of encapsulating a set of images and
memories in time, as though a number of things made sense on an
emotional level: my mother’s singing voice, my father’s abusive attacks,
my loneliness as a child, my spoiled innocence and my inhibited adult
voice. Now I felt I wanted to sing the song with a different quality of
voice. My voice sounded restricted and weak and I felt like I wanted to
get angry but did not know how.
Client’s Account: Richard

Something to Sing About
describing the accident time and
In previous therapy I had grown tired of
time again from every angle. Every time I told it I hoped for some fresh
light or some fresh relief. But mainly it seemed to just become cyclical.
The story itself became a negative thing which threatened to loom over
my head for evermore.
However, when it came to singing the song about the accident, I became
so engaged in the act of singing and wanting to make something
artistically valuable, that the personal origin of the song became
secondary. The fact that it was my song and emanated from a crucial
experience made me want to serve it well as a singer. But the fact that it
was a song seemed to steer me away from a self-reflective exploration of
its meaning towards a commitment to executing it with integrity and
authenticity. I felt an incredible shift of sand and an amazing turn ofthe
tables. The song about the accident became something to serve and
embody and the singing made me feel good. In fact I had not enjoyed
singing like this since before the accident when I was in a choir.
Also, the fact that others in the group seemed to be enjoying the song, as
well as being emotionally moved by it, made me feel less like a poor
victim worthy of sympathy and more like an able artist worthy of true
engagement. What had been a personal tragedy that had inhibited my
ability to communicate became, for a few moments, the thing that
enabled me to be a communicative artist.
I felt like a singer with a tale to tell rather than a tale-teller whose tale
prevented him from singing.
But, like Vicky, I felt dissatisfied with the sound of my voice because it
did not seem to express the range of emotions that I felt underneath. I felt
eager at this point to expand my voice in range and colour.
The Power of the Singing

Many great singers have endured life-long sufferings: they have been abused,
beaten, degraded; they have lost loved ones in terrible accidents; they have
fallen ill to eating disorders and disease; they have been imprisoned and
enslaved. The truly great vocalist continues to sing in moments of the
greatest and most personalised emotion. The singer makes her tragedies
public by elevating them to the level of universal relevance. The song takes a
personal event and an idiosyncratic image and turns it into an archetypal
form. The singer suffers but her singing does not suffer as a result. Suffering
may not be necessary in order to sing; but suffering is no reason not to sing —
it is the best reason.
We cannot rewrite our history. The traumas which have befallen us in the
past are etched upon our souls and no healing can rewrite history. But
singing tricks history by succumbing to its immovable presence. Singing
writes and rewrites the past. The song remains the same; it can be sung a
million times by a million people. To sing about that which has
disempowered us means that at some level we have overcome it.
But finding the tune or melody for a song is only the tip ofthe iceberg
vocally and therapeutically. For the main therapeutic value in the use ofthe
singing voice rests in the particular quality, colour or timbre of voice with
which the tune is sung.
There are a thousand ways of singing the same melody for there are a
thousand different qualities of voice with which a tune can be sung. And it is
to a large extent the colour or quality or timbre of avoice which carries its
emotional content. Therefore, once a client has discovered the means with
which to create a melody from prosody, the next and most crucial step is to
enable them to access a broad range of vocal qualities which in turn enable a
song to be imbued with a diversity of emotion.
CHAPTER 5

The Voice Movement Therapy System
and the Musical Voice

Every human voice is produced in the same way, yet every human voice is
unique. The sound of a person’s voice is like an acoustic fingerprint which
carries their identity; and often our reactions to someone’s voice are
extremely subjective. Some voices attract us and others repel; some voices
stimulate our agitation whilst others calm and soothe; some voices dominate
with authority and others sound servile and sycophantic; some voices
befriend and others contend; some voices we like and others we do not. Yet
rarely do we take the time to consider exactly what it is in a certain voice that
provokes our reactions. Without this understanding, we cannot really
transcend our subjective judgements and gain insight into the psychology of
vocal sound; and the best way to understand the voice is to break it down into
the separate acoustic ingredients which combine to create vocal sound and
learn how these ingredients are produced.
The human voice is made up of a set of ingredients which combine in
different degrees to produce an infinite range of sounds, and there are ten
basic ingredients which all voices possess. Our subjective reactions to voices
are usually based on a response to these ingredients, just as our reactions to
food are based on a response to the taste of specific ingredients which flavour
the meal. By understanding the habitual recipe which makes up our own
voice, we can make changes and choices, increasing the amount of one
ingredient and decreasing the presence of another as we wish.
Understanding the ingredients of the voice is therefore useful as a tool with
which to analyse other voices and as a guide in the evolution of our own
voice towards increasing malleability.
72
THE INGREDIENTS OF VOICE 73
Each vocal ingredient also carries within it certain psychological

implications. Just as we might choose to add or subtract specific herbs and
spices to a recipe in order to create particular healing results, so the addition
and subtraction of specific vocal ingredients can help to heal particular issues.
However, in order to achieve this, we have to learn to access the ingredients,
and this is made easier by the knowledge of how they are produced.
The ten ingredients of the voice according to the Voice Movement
Therapy system are:
- Loudness
« Pitch
- Pitch fluctuation
- Register
- Harmonic timbre
- Nasality
« Free air
- Attack
- Disruption
- Articulation.
The following is a concise description ofthe nature of each ingredient and its
main psychological pertinence.
Ingredient One: Loudness

Running from the lips to the lungs is a long elastic tube. This tube begins at
the lips, opens out to become the mouth, curls downwards at the throat to
become the pharynx which runs into the next section, known as the larynx,
into
before turning into the trachea which, in the centre of the chest, splits
two tubes, one running into each lung. When we breathe in, air passes down
this
this tube, inflating the lungs. When we breathe out, air passes up through
lungs. We shall call the part of
tube in the opposite direction, deflating the
(Figure —
this tube which extends from the lips to the larynx the voice tube
5A\
the vocal
Lying stretched out in the larynx are two flaps oftissue called
rest, one each side of
cords. During normal breathing, the vocal cords lie at
through a
the larynx, like an open pair of curtains allowing air to pass freely
Figure 5.1
window. The window between the two vocal cords through which the air
passes is called the glottis (Figure 5.2a). There are times, however, when we
draw these vocal cords tightly shut, preventing air from passing through the
tube in either direction. We often do this momentarily when lifting or
moving a heavy object (Figure 5.2b).
The sound ofthe human voice is produced by the very rapid opening and
closing of the vocal cords hundreds oftimes per second; this is often referred
to as the vibration of the vocal cords. During this vibration the two vocal
cords hit each other regularly like two hands clapping at great speed. When
the vocal cords vibrate in this way they produce a note, just as a string gives
offanote when it vibrates.
One ofthe things that causes the vocal cords to vibrate is the pressure of
breath released from the lungs when we expire, just as the wind may cause a
Figure 5.2
pair ofcurtains to flap and give offa sound at an open window. Because the
vocal cords are opening and closing many times a second, the expired air is
released in a series ofinfinitesimal puffs; and these puffs ofair form a sound
wave which carries the tone produced by the vocal cords through the voice
tube and out through the mouth.
An increase in the pressure of breath travelling up from the lungs causes
the vocal cords to vibrate with greater force, so that they hit each other
harder. This produces a louder sound — just as an increase in the force and
pressure of a wind would cause a pair of curtains to flap harder and more
loudly at a window. To increase the pressure ofthe breath travelling up from
the lungs through the voice tube, we have to contract the muscles ofthe chest
and abdomen, squeezing the lungs empty with forceful pressure; and this
increases the loudness of the voice by causing the vocal cords to hit into each
other harder. To decrease the pressure of the breath, we have to ease off the
force with which we contract the breathing muscles, squeezing the lungs
more gently; and this decreases the loudness of the voice by causing the vocal
cords to hit into each other more softly.
The first ingredient of the human voice is therefore loudness, which 1s perceived on a
spectrum from loud to quiet.
Some Psychological Aspects ofLoudness

The physical reasons which cause a person to have a loud or a quiet voice are
connected to the use of the muscles which empty the lungs. But there are
often psychological reasons why the muscles are employed in a particular
way in the first place.
The quiet voice is often the sound of wisdom; and those with quiet voices
may have reached a point where they do not need to make a loud noise, for
they rest easily with their insight and are not driven to prove anything. The
quiet voice is also equivalent to a soft touch; and some people maintain a
voice which touches gently because that is how they wish to be touched.
People with quiet voices may be emotionally bruised or sore; and in
vocalising softly they may be asking for a tender voice in return to bandage
the wounds oftheir heart. Many people who come into therapy and who find
it difficult to produce a loud voice have been assaulted by the insensitive
vocal loudness of their parents, partners or other individuals; and they are
often frightened ofproducing a loud voice for fear of becoming like them. In
many situations, extreme vocal loudness is associated with negative
personality traits such as being ‘loudmouthed’, impudent, audacious,
belligerent and pugnacious. In fact, sounds above 80 decibels are potentially
destructive to physical tissue and mental processes. However, it can be a
deeply healing experience to access very loud sounds and reclaim the
positive side of extreme loudness. For the loud voice is also expressive of
elation, excitement, joviality, rapture, rhapsody, celebration and delight; and
these qualities can become obscured by an over-emphasis on the negative
side to loudness. The loud voice is also one way that a person can fill space
and claim their territory. The shadow side of this is that loudness also takes
space away from others. Producing a loud voice is therefore often difficult for
THE INGREDIENTS OF VOICE 3)
those who find it a struggle to claim their space and their right to a distinctive
territory and platform from which to be heard.
There are many people who have no trouble with producing a loud voice
and whose therapeutic process is more concerned with uncovering the voice
of quietude. Whilst the loud voice halts a listener in their tracks, the quiet
voice draws the listener in and is an invitation to intimacy and closeness.
Many people develop loud and boisterous voices to mask a fear of such
intimacy; and their healing journey often involves dissembling the defence
around their vulnerability. Others have loud voices because they have had to
shout in order to be heard above the crowd of a large family; and it is often
difficult for them to have faith in the belief that they will find satisfaction
even if they give voice to their needs quietly. Others have loud voices because
they were constantly made to be quiet when they were young and have
developed a booming voice as a way of defying this repression.
Like all ingredients, loudness has an almost infinite spectrum ofpotential
psychological meanings which can only be understood accurately in the
context of acompassionate and empathic relationship with each individual
vocalist. However, the aforementioned ideas provide an impression of some
of the more common psychological aspects of loudness.
Practical Method: Developing Loudness

To develop the loudness spectrum ofthe voice, clients stand comfortably and
breathe in and out through the mouth. They then begin to vocalise on a note
in the middle oftheir pitch range and then begin ascending and descending
in steps and slides. As they do this, they decrease the loudness ofthe voice
until they are vocalising as quietly as possible. Then, as they ascend and
descend in pitch, they increase the loudness by degrees until they are
vocalising as loudly as possible. Thinking of having a spectrum ofloudness
from very quiet to extremely loud, clients take time to vocalise between these
to
two extremes covering all the shades between. Finally, it is useful for them
once with
take a simple song and sing it three times: once very quietly,
moderate loudness and once as loud as they can.
Ingredient Two: Pitch

the faster
The faster any object vibrates, the higher the note it produces. So
To sing the
the vocal cords vibrate, the higher the pitch of the human voice.
32 times per
lowest C on the piano, the vocal cords would have to vibrate
second; to sing the highest C on the piano, the vocal cords would have to
vibrate 4186 times per second.
If we wanted to produce a higher note from a vibrating string we would
have to tighten it, whilst to lower the note we would have to slacken the
string. The same principle applies to the vocal cords. If we tighten and stretch
the cords they vibrate at a faster rate and produce a higher pitch; if we slacken
them they vibrate more slowly and produce a lower pitch. But the thicker a
string is, the more you have to tighten it to produce a high note. This is why
the thin strings on a guitar do not have to be tightened as much as the thick
strings to produce the same pitch. The same principle applies to the human
voice; and because men have thicker vocal cords than women, they have to
tighten them more to achieve high notes. Conversely, it is more difficult for
women to produce low notes because their vocal cords are thinner. However,
the majority of factors which prevent men from singing high and women
from singing low are psychological and can be overcome.
The space between two notes is called an interval; and it is the memory of
the intervals between notes rather than the notes themselves which enable us
to recall a song. When we sing ‘Happy Birthday’, we can recall the melody
because we know the intervals; but the notes themselves are not fixed — we
can start the song on any pitch so long as the intervals between all the
following notes are correct.
Given that pitch is made up of vibratory frequency, the human voice can
obviously sing a vast spectrum of notes by changing the speed ofvocal cord
vibration. But the European classical western scale only classes certain
frequencies as proper notes. This scale divides the potential range of
frequencies into an octave of notes which we can play on the piano. But there
are other notes which exist between the keys on the piano which the voice
can sing even though there is no string and no hammer for that vibratory
frequency on the piano.
Different cultures divide the potential pitch range in different ways. For
example, whilst western music has an octave of eight notes, classical Indian
music has a scale of 22 notes. What is regarded as a musical note in one place
is regarded as redundant in another. But in talking rather than singing,
people from all cultures are free from aligning the pitch range of their voice
with a set scale and the voice rises and falls through the complete range of
potential frequencies. This is why singing traditions that originate in the
fields and along the railway tracks — where people extend their natural
speaking voices into a call — do not suffer from the restrictions of formal
music.
The second ingredient of the human voice 1s therefore pitch, also referred to as ‘note’,
which is percetved on a spectrum from low to high.
Some Psychological Aspects ofPitch

The height and depth ofavoice is dependent upon the vibratory speed ofthe
vocal cords, which is in turn dependent on their thickness and the tension of
the muscles which tighten and slacken them. But everybody has the capacity
to cover an extremely wide pitch range; and the reasons why a person has a
particularly high or low voice are primarily psychological.
We tend to raise the pitch of the voice in joy and excitement and people
with habitually high voices may seek to reside in the realm of pleasure. But
the high voice may also serve as a way ofavoiding the sorrowful and sombre
emotions associated with the deeps.
Like sounds above a certain loudness threshold, sounds produced by
extremely high frequencies can be penetrating and destructive. High sounds
are usually sensed as being sharp and can be experienced as piercing objects.
Some people may develop high voices in order to feel that they have the
power to penetrate obstacles, cut through the opposition and forge the way
ahead. Other people have extreme difficulty in accessing the high voice
because the sense of power which the high voice evokes causes feelings of
shame. For those who suffer from a depleted sense ofself-worth, accessing
the high voice can be extremely empowering. Reaching the high voice can
feel as though we have reached new personal heights and achieved a
heightened sense of awareness.
High sounds are experienced as being high in space and, during a
therapeutic process, the vocalist will often reach up with the body when
singing high in Pitch, as though plucking notes from the air. High sounds
instigate feelings ofelation and flightiness and for those people who seek to
relieve themselves from the depressive monotony ofthe earth, making high
sounds can be extremely liberating. But for those whose tendency is to be
ungrounded and unearthed, high sounds can be disorientating and
unsettling.
At the other end ofthe pitch scale is the low voice, which in opera is called
has
bass. This ‘bass’ voice often expresses the ‘base’ aspects of our soul which
and the
two dimensions. First, our base is our bedrock, our foundations
e
ground upon which our character stands. To access the low voice therefor
gives us a sense of deep-rootedness, strength and support. But base also

means crude, unrefined, flagrant, obscene and coarse; and vocalising with
the low voice enables us to express a certain primeval core of sensation. For
those whose healing requires a redeeming of animal instincts and primal
passions, the low voice can be very liberating. The low voice feels as though
it emerges from deep in the body and making bass sounds can stimulate the
sexual organs and stir erotic energy. Many people avoid low sounds as a way
of evading their sexuality.
The deep voice is experienced as being low in space and when we vocalise
with a bass voice it feels as if we are descending into the deeps physically and
emotionally. The low voice can cause us to feel down in the dumps, in the
pits, in the doldrums and depressed. Many people have deep voices because
their soul resides in the depths of depression, whilst others avoid low sounds
so they do not have to confront the morose and depressive aspects of
themselves. Our voice descends in sorrow and rises in joy; and many people
develop low voices because they have become overwhelmed with sorrow and
forgotten the magic of joy.
The low voice sounds as though it emerges from the depths and is
therefore associated with depth of integrity, depth of meaning and authority,
The high voice can therefore be misread as superficial and lacking in
psychological depth. Some people develop low voices in order to preserve a
sense of psychological depth whilst others may develop high voices in order
to avoid the responsibility which comes with speaking from the deeps.
Like all ingredients, Pitch has an almost infinite spectrum of potential
of the more common psychological aspects of pitch.
Practical Method: Developing Pitch

Having explored the spectrum of loudness, clients return to a note in the
middle of their pitch range and begin ascending and descending in pitch
with moderate loudness. When they reach what feels like the top of their
pitch range, they try adjusting the loudness to see if this helps them to go
higher than they have before. They do the same thing when they reach what
feels like the bottom ofthe pitch range. When they have found the level of
loudness which enables them to extend the ends of the pitch range, they
practise going a little higher and a little lower than they would normally so
that in time they extend the range of pitches accessible.
Ingredient Three: Pitch Fluctuation

When we vocalise, the speed with which the vocal folds vibrate does not
remain constant but wavers to some degree. Even if we attempt to sing a
single note for a prolonged period of time, for example middle C, the vocal
folds will not sustain their opening and closing at an exact and constant 256
times per second. There will be some fluctuation as the vocal cords vibrate a
little faster and a little slower in a given unit of time. In western singing, if the
fluctuation is too great, for example fluctuating between 236 and 276 times
per second, then the note will sound wobbly and the voice will be judged to
be out of tune, particularly if the fluctuation is very slow. But if the
fluctuation is minimal — for example between 246 and 266 times per second
_— and the fluctuation occurs very quickly, then the note will have a quality
Yet
known as vibrato and the voice will be judged to be classically beautiful.
both the revered vibrato and the despised wavering are produced by the same
effect. This effect is called pitch fluctuation.
e
In many indigenous forms of singing the voice is free to fluctuat
nts regardi ng its
spontaneously without falling prey to extreme judgme
extension of
musical viability. Many ofthese singing styles originate in the
g voice
the speaking voice and capitalise on the fact that the speakin
to musical
fluctuates freely in people from all cultures without regard
have to suspend
correctness. To draw upon the healing power ofthe voice we
freely, just as the
our western judgements and allow the voice to fluctuate
psyche fluctuates in its wheel of passions.
pitch ‘fluctuation, which ts
The third ingredient of the human voice 1s therefore
perceived as being fast or slow, great or small.
Some Psychological Aspects ofPitch Fluctuation

when we are extremely
In daily life, pitch fluctuation occurs to our voice
through the muscles of
anxious or nervous; and often the quivering can tingle
can instil feelings of
our whole body. Vocalising with pitch fluctuation
insecure and unstable
uncertainty, creating the sensation of having an
ation in their voice are
personality; and those who have a lot of pitch fluctu
those whose therapeutic
often of a nervous and insecure disposition. For
an unassured persona with
process is concerned with replacing such
confidence and ease, substituting pitch fluctuation with constant tones is

extremely assuring. On the other hand, those whose voices lack pitch
fluctuation may be holding fast to their security and avoiding the vulnerable
and uncertain parts of themselves. For those whose healing requires old
patterns to be shaken up and fixed habits to be dislodged, vocalising with
pitch fluctuation can provide the earthquake out of which fresh perspectives
can grow.
Pitch fluctuation often occurs when we are excited and for those who
have lost the elated and tumultuous part of the soul, vocalising with pitch
fluctuation can serve to arouse the spirit. But pitch fluctuation also occurs
when we are afraid; and vocalising with pitch fluctuation can evoke feelings
of panic and fright. For those whose lives are limited by fear, it is extremely
healing to replace pitch fluctuation with constant notes. But for those who
want to taste fear again in order to reclaim the sense of forces greater than
themselves, vocalising with pitch fluctuation can serve to unnerve the
complacent spirit and fill the soul with awe and respect for the unknown.
Like all ingredients, pitch fluctuation has an almost infinite spectrum of
potential psychological meanings which can only be understood accurately
in the context of a compassionate and empathic relationship with each
individual vocalist. However, the aforementioned ideas provide an
impression of some of the more common psychological aspects of pitch
fluctuation.
Practical Method: Developing Pitch Fluctuation

Now clients have a wide pitch range which they sing with varying degrees of
loudness, they try to vocalise this range with pitch fluctuation. First, they sing
their pitch range with a very fast fluctuation, like a classical vibrato. Then
they sing the range again with a slower pitch fluctuation. As they do this, they
vary the level of loudness and continue seeking to go higher and lower than
they have before, allowing themselves to celebrate having three vocal
ingredients to play with.
Ingredient Four: Register

If you sing the lowest note in your pitch range and rise one
note at a time up
to the highest, you will notice that somewhere in the middle
there is a
transitional point where a particular change occurs to the quality
of the voice.
The upper notes will probably seem to have a brighter quality
whilst the
lower notes will sound darker. The point where this change occurs is called
the register break. The two main registers are modal and falsetto. The lower
range of notes which sound darker are in modal register and the upper range
of notes which sound brighter are in falsetto register. In the western classical
tradition, a female falsetto voice is called ‘head register’ and her modal voice
is called ‘chest register’. These terms originate in the antiquated idea that
falsetto register generates more vibration in the head whilst the modal
register resonates more in the chest; but there is no scientific evidence for
this. The term ‘falsetto’ comes from the Latin for ‘false’ and calling this
quality of voice ‘falsetto register’ in a male voice and ‘head register’ in a
female voice implies that it is false for a man but not for a woman to sing with
this quality. Indeed, the association between falsetto and femininity is
exaggerated in the pastiche cabaret and pantomime when men use the
falsetto register to impersonate the speaking voice of a woman. This is of
course unfounded because neither women nor men speak in falsetto, but in
modal. But bot men and women do use falsetto in their talking voice at
times of extreme emotion, such as when we sob or laugh.
In opera, singers are prohibited from exposing the change of register and
each singer must use one or the other. The male voices are always sung in
modal — with the exception of the male counter tenor — whilst falsetto is
reserved for women. But outside of European classical music, in western
contemporary singing and non-western indigenous styles, both registers are
used freely by men and women and are not associated with masculinity or
femininity. The Register break is particularly exaggerated in the yodelling
style of singing often associated with the indigenous music of the Swiss Alps
Rodgers,
and amongst the North American ‘singing cowboys’ such as Jimmie
from the
Eddy Arnold and Tennessee Ernie Ford. Some of these men sing
soprano. Elvis
range ofan operatic bass up to the heights associated with the
falsetto.
Presley and Roy Orbison also moved fluidly between modal and
male singers who
There have also been a number of contemporary western
and Jimmy
sing exclusively in the falsetto register, such as the Bee Gees
who make a point of singing
Somerville; and there are female singers
exclusively in modal.
falsetto and
Although the higher pitch range ofa voice is usually sung in
related to pitch
the lower pitch range in modal, register is not directly
and then sing
because with practice you can sing a range of notes in modal
the same range of notes again in falsetto.
Because the deliberate exposure of the register break is not allowed in

opera, trainees of classical singing learn a technique called blending. This
involves ascending and descending the pitch range, gradually blending the
qualities of falsetto and modal into a single quality known as a ‘blended’
register so that the break is eradicated. However, this also eradicates the
special emotional magnetism of the register break. To reclaim the full power
of the voice, it is necessary to develop both the modal and falsetto registers
and allow the voice to move between the two as the mood requires.
The fourth ingredient of the voice is therefore register which is perceived as being
either modal, falsetto or blended.
Some Psychological Aspects ofRegister

A common term for a change in register is a ‘break’ and indeed as the voice
passes from modal to falsetto or vice versa it can feel as though something is
breaking. Some people have a constant register break in their daily voice; and
often this reveals a deep part of the Self which has been broken and has not
healed. Our voice breaks naturally when we are breaking down with
emotion; and deep crying is often characterised by a sobbing back and forth
between the two registers. But the same register break often occurs when we
laugh fully and without restraint. Some people never allow the registers to
change, even when they laugh or cry, as a way of avoiding contact with
genuine emotion. For those people whose therapeutic journey is concerned
with finding access to tumultuous emotions and reactivating the passions of
the heart, the register break can be extremely liberating. On the other hand,
for those who experience a constant ‘breaking’ of emotion, replacing the
register break with a blended constant quality can be very stabilising and
strengthening.
Because, in the west, falsetto is associated more with femininity and
modal with masculinity, the vocal Registers have a healing power when it
comes to sexuality. When a man accesses pure falsetto and a woman accesses
pure modal, sexual stereotypes can be overcome and a more holistic sense of
gender can be invigorated.
Because the falsetto register is the quality which characterises a child’s
voice, accessing the falsetto can animate the inner child; and for those
who
have lost the spirit of youth, this can be very healing. Conversely, for those
whose lives are under the constant spell of regression and whose healing
journey seeks an opportunity to mature, the modal voice can be
very
grounding.
Using the healing voice means allowing the voice to break out of one
register into another so that we may break out of the fixity of a rigid Self and
express our capacity for change and growth.
Like all ingredients, register has an almost infinite spectrum of potential
context of a compassionate and empathic relationship with each individual
of the more common psychological aspects of register.
Practical Method: Developing Register

Clients start singing at the bottom of their pitch range and ascend one note at
a time, listening for the two notes where the voice changes from modal to
falsetto register. They then refind those notes and sing them over and over,
vocalising on a yodel. Then, having acquired the art of the register break,
they practise yodelling in other parts of the pitch range, allowing the voice to
create improvised melodies which use modal and falsetto. Finally, they sing a
range of notes in modal and then practise singing the same range of notes in
falsetto.
Ingredient Five: Harmonic Timbre

The section of the voice tube which runs from the lips to the larynx can
change its length and its diameter; and because ofthe laws of acoustics, the
a
same note produced by the vibration of the vocal cords will resonate with
very different quality if the voice tube is short and narrow to the quality
produced when the voice tube is lengthened and dilated.
bottom but
To understand this, imagine three basic tubes, closed at the
t lengths.
open at the top, constructed with different diameters and differen
and
The first is short and narrow; the second is relatively longer and wider;
Imagine that we hold a
the third is much longer and more dilated again.
middle C —
tuning fork vibrating at 256 times per second — which produces
to the sound the
of note echoing
over the top of each tube in turn and listen
sound inside
or resonating inside the tubes. In moving from listening to the
and then
the first tube to the same note echoing or resonating in the second
in the first
the third, we would hear a change oftimbre. Perhaps the sound
ry’; perhaps the
tube would sound ‘bright’, ‘twangy’, ‘shiny’ and ‘shimme
sound ‘thicker’,
sound resonating in the second tube, by comparison, would
in the third tube
more ‘solemn’ or ‘fruitier’; and perhaps the sound resonating
Figure 5.3
would sound ‘full’, ‘moaning’, ‘rounded’ and ‘dark’. Probably, the first
tube
would sound more comparable to a flute, the second tube would sound more
comparable to the clarinet, whilst the sound produced by the third tube
would sound more akin to the saxophone; they would all however produce
the note C.
With regard to voice production, both the length and the diameter
of the
voice tube can alter. The diameter of the voice tube can increase by openin
g
the mouth and stretching the throat; and the length of
the voice tube can
increase by lowering the larynx in the neck. The tube can therefo
re assume
three different configurations comparable to the three shapes of the three

crude tubes (Figure 5.3). The first is called Flute Configuration, whereby the
larynx is high in the neck and the tube is quite narrow, such as when we blow
a kiss or whistle (Figure 5.4). The second is called Clarinet Configuration,
whereby the larynx is positioned in the middle of the neck and the tube is
more dilated, such as when we steam up a pair of glasses (Figure 5.5). The
third is called Saxophone Configuration, whereby the larynx is fully
descended in the neck and the tube is dilated to its maximum, such as when
we yawn (Figure 5.6).
If the vibration of the vocal cords is maintained at a constant vibratory
frequency, say at 256 times per second, producing middle C, whilst the vocal
tract moves from Flute Configuration through Clarinet Configuration to
Saxophone Configuration, the effect will be to sing the same note with three
very distinct timbres, comparable to that achieved when playing the note C
Figure 5.4 Figure 5.5

ek
Figure 5.6
on a tuning fork held above the three separate crude tubes imagined earlier.
In Voice Movement Therapy, we give the vocal colour produced by a short
narrow voice tube the instrumental name Flute Timbre; we name the vocal
colour produced by a medium length and diameter tube Clarinet Timbre;
and we call the vocal colour produced by a fully lengthened and dilated
voice tube Saxophone Timbre.
The fifth ingredient of the human voice is therefore harmonic timbre which can be
Flute, Clarinet or Saxophone, depending on the configuration of the voice tube.
Some Psychological Aspects ofHarmonic Timbre

The breath emerging from the tube when it is in Flute Configuration is cold —
it is the shape we make with our mouth when we want to cool down hot food
by blowing air from the mouth. The sound of the Flute Timbre can also feel
cool, passionless, stoic and frosty. Furthermore, because the Flute
Configuration tube is so narrow, it does not discharge a great deal of acoustic
or emotional material and it can sound very reserved and conservative. For
those whose therapeutic journey is directed towards learning to preserve

more energy and more privacy, such as those who have been depleted and
exhausted by their tendency to give too much of themselves, vocalising in
Flute Timbre can be very helpful. But for those seeking to release more of
their Self into the world, it is necessary to expand the dimensions ofthe voice
tube. In singing, the Flute Timbre is heard at its most constant in Christian
plainsong, such as the Gregorian Chant.
Whilst the Flute Configuration tends to release a minimum amount of
breath and sound, the Saxophone Configuration releases the entire flood and
holds very little back. For those who are seeking to release themselves from
the stifling confines of a reserved and retained psyche, vocalising in
Saxophone Timbre can be extremely transforming. Common reasons for
expanding the throat to the dimensions of the Saxophone Configuration are
to belch or vomit. Therefore, vocalising with the Saxophone Timbre can feel
as though we are going to bring things up from the stomach. It is, in fact, very
rare for someone actually to vomit when vocalising in Saxophone Timbre;
however, it is common for people initially to experience the Saxophone
Timbre as ‘sick’ and ugly. Although this can be terrifying, it is also very
liberating for those whose healing is connected to being released from the
pressure of having to be beautiful, sweet and correct.
Expanding the voice tube also often raises issues connected to sexuality,
for the more open the tube becomes, the more likely it feels that one may be
penetrated. In addition, as the tube expands and lengthens, it can feel as if the
voice is emerging from the pelvic area and animating a libidinous drive.
Another reason for expanding the voice tube dimensions to the maximum
is to cry; and vocalising with the Saxophone Timbre often induces sobbing,
which can be very liberating for those who have become separated from their
sorrows. On the other hand, for those who seek to be healed from feeling
voice
overwhelmed with the water oftheir sadness, it is helpful to narrow the
tube to Clarinet Configuration or Flute Configuration. In singing, the
Nina
Saxophone Timbre is often heard in Gospel and jazz; Cleo Laine and
Simone, for example, both use fully expanded voice tube configurations.
is
Between Flute and Saxophone is the Clarinet Timbre, which
expand to
emblematic of the middle ground. It can narrow to Flute or it can
their choices and dexterit y, the
Saxophone. For those seeking to increase
m from
Clarinet Configuration is a grail worth pursuing, for it is a platfor
which all else is possible.
In Voice Movement Therapy, being able to expand the voice tube

dimensions is the single most important part of the physical work. For the
expanded tube enables all the other vocal ingredients to be reverberated,
amplified and enhanced. Expanding the tube therefore enables people to
make the most of themselves, to reveal themselves in all their colours.
However, dealing with all the psychological inhibitions which prevent the
tube from expanding and the soul from being amplified constitutes one of
the most important areas of psychological work. Expanding the tube means
expanding the Self; thus it sits at the core of the healing process.
Like all ingredients, harmonic timbre has an almost infinite spectrum of
impression of some of the more common psychological aspects of harmonic
timbre. I have described at length the physicality and psychology of this
process in the first volume of this series, Using Voice and Movement in Therapy:
The Practical Application of Voice Movement Therapy (Newham 1999).
Practical Method: Developing Harmonic Timbre

Clients stand comfortably and breathe in and out through the mouth. They
then narrow the voice tube to Flute Configuration by whistling or blowing
cool air as though to lower the temperature of hot food. It is useful for clients
to imagine that the voice tube is very narrow and that it extends from the lips
down to the indent between the clavicles at the top of the breast bone. They
now begin to vocalise, singing up and down the pitch range with varying
degrees of loudness in modal and falsetto register, listening to the Flute
Timbre of the voice.
They now expand the dimensions of the voice tube to Clarinet
Configuration, opening the mouth and expanding the throat. It is useful for
them to imagine that they are steaming up a window or a pair of spectacles
and to feel how the expired breath is now warm. Clients now imagine that
the tube is wider and that it extends from the lips down to the centre ofthe
torso at the bottom of the breast bone. They then begin to vocalise, singing
up and down the pitch range with varying degrees of loudness in modal
and
falsetto register, listening to the Clarinet Timbre of the voice.
They then expand the voice tube to its maximum dimensions, dilatin
g
mouth and throat as though yawning and imagine that the tube extends
from
the lips all the way down into the belly. Clients then begin to
vocalise,
singing up and down the pitch range with varying degrees of loudness in
modal and falsetto register, listening to the Saxophone Timbre ofthe voice.
Now, they take a melody and sing it first in Flute Timbre then in Clarinet
Timbre and then in Saxophone Timbre but keep all the other vocal
ingredients constant so that they can hear specifically the three distinct
harmonic timbres.
Ingredient Six: Nasality

As the air carries the sound up from the larynx, not all of it passes through the
mouth and exits at the lips; some also passes up above the roof of the mouth
and through the nasal passages, exiting at the nose. Sound which passes
through this tube resonates with a quality which is usually referred to as
nasal. In Voice Movement Therapy, we give this nasal quality the
instrumental name ‘Violin’ which combines with the Flute, Clarinet or
Saxophone Timbre of the voice.
The more air that passes through the nasal passages, the more nasality or
Violin the sound of the voice will have; and the quantity of air passing
through the passages is controlled by a flap of tissue known as the soft palate.
This trap door hangs at the back of the throat and can open and close by
degrees. If it is completely closed, then the voice has no Violin and sounds
lacking in all nasality. If it is completely open, then the voice has a lot of
Violin and sounds very nasal. Between these two extremes a whole spectrum
is possible, like adding or subtracting violins from the string section of an
orchestra.
Violin is the quality of voice that children use when they impersonate a
Chinese or Japanese person; and though this is a social stereotype, nasality is
in fact a tonal colour inherent in a lot of indigenous oriental singing and can
be heard in the voices of the Cantonese Opera, the Shanghai Opera and
a
those of the Hat Chéo Folk Theatre of Vietnam. There have also been
with a lot
number of western contemporary singers whose voices are infused
and Bob
of Violin, such as Billie Holiday, Marlene Dietrich, Neil Young
Dylan in his early work.
The sixth ingredient ofthe voice 1s therefore nasality or Violin which is percetved on
a spectrum from minimum to maximum.
Some Psychological Aspects ofNasality

Violin is the quality of voice which people automatically use when
impersonating a baby or a very old person. Violin therefore carries with it
issues connected to age. People who complain that their voices are too
child-like usually have a lot of Violin in their voice and by learning to
decrease nasal resonance they can experience a new self-image, replacing
naiveté with maturity.
It is very common for actors to use nasality when playing someone
wicked and it is our natural tendency to use Violin when we are expressing
spite and vindictiveness. For those seeking to get in touch with their malice
and animosity, vocalising with Violin can be very provocative.
Nasality is used a lot more in the speaking voice than in most western
singing styles. In fact, there are certain vowels in the English language, such
as ‘i’ as in ‘sit’, which cannot be adequately communicated without
increasing nasality — which is why they are called ‘nasal vowels’. In
indigenous cultures where the singing style has evolved from speaking and
calling, there is often a lot more Violin in the voices. Accessing Violin is
therefore a key to sonically empathising with the voices of other lands and
can help us get in touch with our multi-cultural and transpersonal self.
Acoustically, Violin brings to the voice a certain hardness and density,
enabling the voice to be projected over greater distances and to be heard
above other noise. This is another reason why indigenous singing styles
which have originated in the open air and where people had to sing to each
other over large distances tend to have a lot of Violin in the voices. For those
who wish to acquire the ability to project their voice, vocalising with Violin is
extremely supportive and brings strength and solidity to the sound.
Like all ingredients, Violin has an almost infinite spectrum of potential
of the more common psychological aspects of Violin.
Practical Method: Developing Nasality

Clients take a note in the middle of their Pitch range and sing it with
moderate loudness without pitch fluctuation in modal register and Clarinet
Timbre. Now, as they sing the note, they add Violin by making the
sound
more nasal. They then practise singing this note with a spectrum of
Violin
from minimum to maximum.
Clients now sing another note with moderate loudness, without pitch
fluctuation and in Clarinet Timbre but in falsetto register and again practise
increasing and decreasing the amount of Violin.
When they have acquired control of nasality, they can begin
experimenting with different combinations of the other vocal ingredients as
they play with the addition and subtraction of Violin.
Ingredient Seven: Free Air

When the vocal cords vibrate, they push together momentarily many times
per second. But if, during their moment ofcontact, they do not push tightly
together, then breath seeps through the crack. When this happens, the sound
of the voice is very breathy. In Voice Movement Therapy such a breathy
quality in the tonal colour of a voice is called Free Air. The more loosely the
vocal cords push together, the more Free Air the voice will have.
During the 1950s, Julie London elevated the Free Air voice to new
heights with her rendition of ‘Cry Me a River’; and there are a number of
singers in more recent western contemporary music whose voices have a lot
of Free Air, such as Art Garfunkel.
y
The seventh ingredient of the human voice is therefore Free Air which ts generall
to
referred to as the ‘breathiness’ ofa voice and 1sperceived ona spectrum from minimum
maximum.
Some Psychological Aspects ofFree Air

when expressing
Increasing Free Air is something which many people do
t any Free Air usually
empathy, gentility and receptivity, whilst voices withou
exterior and access
sound firm. For those people seeking to melt their hard
Air is ideal. But
their underlying sensitivity, vocalising with maximum Free
and protection,
for those who tend to leave themselves without guard
sense of strength and
vocalising with minimum Free Air can create a greater
resilience.
ity; and sexuality is
A voice rich in Free Air is often associated with sexual
singing is, in essence,
always latently present in the act of singing. The art of
the listener with the
founded upon the ability to stimulate and arouse
erated the sensual aspect
sensuous use of the mouth. Some singers have exagg
tonal colour oftheir voice.
to singing and often use Free Air to eroticise the
mise this style. For those
Marilyn Monroe was probably the first to epito
seeking to uncover their buried sexuality, vocalising with Free Air can be
extremely liberating, unleashing the libido in sound.
We also tend to fill the voice with Free Air when we are exasperated and
perplexed; and vocalising with Free Air can tap into these feelings.
Vocalising with Free Air is exhausting because the sound absorbs so much
breath that you have to replenish the air in the lungs frequently, only to lose it
all again in the next sound. This can create a feeling of futility and of ‘not
getting anywhere’. For such people, as well for those who feel that they lack
reserves and who need to lessen their tendency to over-expend, decreasing
the amount of Free Air can be very healing. But for those who feel the tension
and pressure of keeping their spirit contained, increasing the amount of Free
Air in the voice can feel extremely releasing.
Like all ingredients, Free Air has an almost infinite spectrum of potential
of the more common psychological aspects of Free Air.
Practical Method: Developing Free Air

Clients sing an improvised melody in a voice with moderate loudness. They
now repeat the singing but this time they sing it as though they are vocalising
on a whisper. As they sing, clients make the sound as breathy as they can,
filling the voice with Free Air. Now, they decrease the amount of Free Air so
that the voice is moderately breathy. Finally, they remove the Free Air
completely and sing with a voice that is firm and solid. Finally, they practise
combining varying amounts ofFree Air with all the other vocal ingredients.
Ingredient Eight: Attack

The pressure of the breath travelling up from the lungs determines the
force
with which the vocal cords contact each other during vibration which
in turn
determines the loudness of the voice. However, the vocal
cords also have the
capacity to hit into each other under the power oftheir own neurom
uscular
connections. This means that they can increase or decreas
e the force of
contact. This extra dimension to vocal fold vibration
is called attack,
Increased attack does not make the voice louder but gives it
a certain stress.
The eighth ingredient of the human voice is therefore attack which
gives a voice its
Stress and is perceived on a spectrum from lesser to greater.
Some Psychological Aspects ofAttack

Vocal attack is used when we want to attack our subject with a strength of
opinion and certainty and those whose voices are naturally abundant with
this quality are often quite strong-minded and strong-willed individuals. We
often use increased attack when we are driving our point home with the
punctilious and percussive points of our argument. Vocal attack is often used
when we are certain of ourselves and those people with a lot of attack in their
voices are often those with a sense of self-esteem and sometimes
self-righteousness. For those people who have succumbed to this mask at the
expense of their vulnerable and uncertain self, decreasing attack can uncover
a tone of greater humility.
Those whose voices lack attack are often dealing with reticence and
self-doubt, lacking the necessary belief in themselves with which to attack
the world with their voice. For those with a tendency to acquiesce and
relinquish their beliefs when intimidated or opposed, vocalising with attack
can help to muster a new adversarial spirit and consolidate the ability to hold
ground.
Because attack tends to create a percussive dimension, people who
naturally use this quality are usually those who think ina linear direction and
feel at ease with logic and lists of reasons for and against the decision at hand.
Those who lack this quality in their voice, on the other hand, are generally
those more at ease with non-linear intuitive thought which meanders and
explores issues elliptically. Attack is the rhythmic component to the voice
and, for those whose expressions are full of flow but who have lost a sense of
tempo in their lives, vocalising with attack can be very grounding. On the
other hand, those who have been sequestered by the overbearing demands of
time can experience a healing liberation by replacing attack with the soft
edges of a gentle tonal colour in their voice.
Like all ingredients, attack has an almost infinite spectrum of potential
of the more common psychological aspects of attack.
Practical Method: Developing Attack

To develop increased attack, clients take a series of vowels preceded by an ‘H’
they
and say them quickly and percussively on the expired breath as though
sustain the
are releasing a series of bullets: Ha, Hi, Ho, He. Then, they
strength of the attack through an extended note on these sounds: Haaaaaaaa,
Ingredient Nine: Disruption

Sometimes, the two vocal cords do not meet so as to create a flush, smooth
edge but instead crash together unevenly with corrugated edges, rubbing
into each other and creating friction. When this happens the tonal colour of
the voice becomes rough and the pitch becomes discontinuous. In Voice
Movement Therapy such a voice is described as possessing disruption.
Disrupted sounds also arise when other tissue structures of the larynx vibrate
or come into contact with the vocal cords.
Disruption is a key component of many non-western indigenous singing
styles, such as the chanting of Tibetan monks and the rough calling of
Flamenco Deep Song. However, singers of these traditions have great
difficulty in producing any other kind of non-disrupted sound because
constant friction between the vocal cords causes damage to their constituting
tissue. There are also many people in the tradition of western contemporary
music who have used disruption, such as Janis Joplin, Louis Armstrong, Rod
Stewart, Tom Waits, Bonnie Tyler and Tina Turner; and some of these people
have also suffered vocal damage. There are however ways of producing a
disrupted voice which protect the cords from damage, but these techniques
need to be learned from someone first hand.
The ninth ingredient ofthe human voice is therefore disruption and isperceived ona
spectrum from mild to severe.
Some Psychological Aspects ofDisruption

We tend to use disruption when we are extremely angry and when we are
scolding someone with a warning; and those with naturally disrupted voices
are often host to a backlog of rage. However, the voice also disrupts when we
are emotionally disrupted and many people with such voices have been
shattered by intense and overwhelming experiences. Conversely, those
people who have difficulty vocalising with disruption are often avoiding
both their anger and the broken, disrupted and shattered part of themselves
.
People who cannot access their disrupted voices tend to be stoic and highly
attached to the idea of themselves as able and well balanced. For such people,
the sound of disruption is too extreme and too threatening, for it promises
to
overturn the polished persona by sprinkling grit across the smooth surface
of
THE INGREDIENTS OF VOICE hy!
the vocal mask. For those seeking to unearth their anger or disturb the
perfect grace oftheir clean-cut person, accessing disruption can be radically
transformative.
Like all ingredients, disruption has an almost infinite spectrum of
impression of some ofthe more common psychological aspects of disruption.
Practical Method: Developing Disruption

Clients should not practise disruption for longer than a few minutes unless
the practitioner is certain that they have been taught a way of creating
disrupting sounds which do not threaten the health and longevity of the
vocal instrument. As with all of the methods described in this chapter, the
practitioner should have mastered the vocal techniques before attempting to
impart them to clients. The safest way to get a sense of disruption is to
vocalise very quietly in the middle ofthe pitch range in modal register with
very little attack and in Saxophone Timbre.
Clients begin vocalising on a single note and then start to groan gently as
though simmering with fury. As the voice becomes disrupted, they travel up
and down the lower part ofthe pitch range and improvise a melody.
Ingredient Ten: Articulation

When we are babies we use the complete palette of articulate shapes available
to us as we sculpture vocal sounds with the lips, jaw and tongue. But when we
learn the mother tongue we abandon this range for the narrow spectrum of
our spoken language. Only in extreme circumstances, such as speaking in
tongues during spiritual ritual or speaking in psychic disarray during mental
illness, do we reclaim this spectrum of articulation.
The two units of articulation which are present in all tongues are vowels
and consonants. Vowels are open sounds made from a continuous air flow.
Consonants are plosive sounds made by interrupting the air flow. In Voice
Movement Therapy, articulation does not refer just to the vowels and
consonants ofa single recognisable linguistic code; it refers to the complete
range of articulated structures which can be created by the human vocal
the
instrument. To reclaim the healing power ofthe voice means returning to
complete palette of sculptured sounds — in effect it means singing in all

tongues.
The tenth ingredient of the human voice 1s therefore articulation which is the
sculpturing of the vocal sound into vowels and consonants with mouth, lips, tongue and
jaw.
Some Psychological Aspects ofArticulation

In the early stages of accessing the complete range of the voice, any form of
articulation can be restricting, causing the throat to tighten and the voice
tube to narrow in preparation for words. But, articulation is also a very
liberating ingredient of the human voice because it provides a sense of giving
a precise shape to the feeling carried by the voice. For those who find the
spoken language of their mother tongue an unfriendly means of
communication, singing in a multitude of spontaneous tongues provides a
deep level of psychological release as though a new and perfect language has
been uncovered.
Practical Method: Developing Articulation

Clients begin by calling out a long note. They let the voice ascend and
descend in pitch and allow the ingredients of the voice to combine
spontaneously. Then, they begin to vocalise familiar articulate word units:
Ta, Go, Sha, Be. As they call out, they start to allow themselves to give shape
to word units which are less familiar: Ach, Unf, Tfi, Yin. It is useful for them
to imagine that they are touring the world’s languages, singing excerpts from
every tongue that ever was. As they sing, they imagine that they are touring
the Occident and Orient, the northern and the southern hemispheres ofthe
globe and giving voice to the lands which they discover.
‘The Complete Palette

These ten ingredients make up the palette of tonal colours which can be
heard woven into the fabric of every human voice; and I have provided a
comprehensive demonstration of all the vocal ingredients in the singing and
speaking voice on a complete audio course The Singing Cure (Newham 1998).
To recap, the ten ingredients which make up the human voice are:
Ingredient One: Loudness, perceived ona spectrum from loud to quiet.
Ingredient Two: Pitch, perceived on a spectrum from low to high.
Ingredient Three: Pitch Fluctuation, perceived as being fast or slow, great

or small.
Ingredient Four: Register, perceived as either modal, falsetto or blended.
Ingredient Five: Harmonic Timbre, which can be Flute, Clarinet or

Saxophone.
Ingredient Six: Violin, perceived on a spectrum from minimum to
maximum.
Ingredient Seven: Free Air, perceived on a spectrum from minimum to
maximum.
Ingredient Eight: Attack, perceived ona spectrum from lesser to greater.
Ingredient Nine: Disruption, perceived on a spectrum from mild to

severe.
Ingredient Ten: Articulation, perceived as a sculpturing ofthe voice into
vowels and consonants.
A Methodology for Training, Therapy and Analysis

These ten components of vocal expression form the core of the Voice
Movement Therapy system which is both an analytic profile for interpreting
voices, a psychotherapeutic means by which to investigate the way
psychological material is communicated through specific vocal qualities, a
training system for developing the expressiveness of voices and a
physiotherapeutic means by which to release the voice from functional
misuse.
The ten components ofvocal expression offers a framework within which
all voices can be analysed. However, the most significant use ofthis system is
not simply to analyse what one hears, but to enable a single human voice to
acquire the dexterity with which to manifest manifold combinations ofvocal
qualities. When this is achieved, the voice is able to serve both artistic
and
procedures by bringing greater vocal flexibility to the process of singing
is also able to express a greater range of emotional and psychological
upon a
experience. Voice Movement Therapy is therefore predicated
synthesis of analytic, artistic and therapeutic principles.
The set of ten vocal components offers a framework of analysis within
absence of
which voice production can be analysed intuitively in the
e for an
objective measuring equipment. For with training it is possibl
attentive listener to sense the composite combination of the ten components

which may be present in a voice at any given time. Those who train in Voice
Movement Therapy can therefore learn to hear the voice as comprising a set
of vocal tract dimensions and their consequent acoustic timbres known as
Flute, Clarinet and Saxophone which can be articulated across a range of
pitches, each of which can fluctuate to some degree. These sounds can all be
vocalised with degrees of loudness, with a greater or lesser amount of attack
and with a spectrum of more or less Free Air, creating a sound which may be
to some degree disrupted and produced in a certain vocal register with a
greater or lesser amount of Violin.
The various combinations of these components are obviously manifold,
each giving specific vocal qualities expressive of particular artistic styles and
with particular psychological connotations. Because these vocal components
are rooted in the elementary physiological and mechanical operation of the
voice, they can be applied with equal efficacy whether analysing vocal
expression in a therapeutic setting or vocal styles in an artistic context.
Because the practitioner is approaching the voice subjectively, intuitively
drawing upon his or her own responses in the absence of empirical
measuring procedures, the Voice Movement Therapy system provides a
non-judgemental framework in which to locate such responses. For it is
always tempting to analyse the voice by labelling sounds according to
emotional, figurative or attitudinal constructs which emanate from the
practitioner's own associations. This gives rise to descriptive terms such as
‘whiny’, ‘depressive’, ‘bubbly’, ‘child-like’, ‘aggressive’ or ‘weak’. In
contradistinction to this approach is the provision of measuring devices and
the clinical language of allopathic systems which describes the voice with
terms based in physiological pathology, such as ‘hyperkinetic’ and
‘whispered aphonia’. Whilst the former acknowledges the emotionality and
imaginative capacity of the voice, it risks a dangerous disconnection from the
mechanics of voice production and can potentially perpetuate a prejudicial
reinforcement of vocal stereotyping. The latter, meanwhile, has the
advantage of being grounded in an objective understanding of mechanical
and physiological voice production and avoids preconceived interpretative
conclusions but, on the other hand, relies on scientific procedures and
equipment and locates the voice in a language of medicinal pathology which
has little to do with the creative and psychological function of vocal
expression. The system of voice profile and analysis which I have designed
offers an opportunity to walk the middle way between these two approaches.
The analytic and interpretative use of the system requires the practitioner
to translate associative subjective responses to the vocalist into a profile based
on the vocal ingredients. With training, this is possible with some ease
because it is these ingredients to which we attend unconsciously when
interpreting voices. We may believe someone to be angry because their voice
becomes disrupted, the speed of their pitch fluctuation increases, as the
sound becomes loud and deep in pitch. We may believe someone is joyous
and excited because their voice breaks out of Modal into Falsetto as it rises in
Pitch and the quantity of Free Air increases as the vocal tract lengthens and
dilates into Saxophone Configuration. We may think someone is frightened
because their voice has a rapid pitch fluctuation and is very quiet with little
attack. We may believe someone to be pessimistic and despondent because
their voice is infused with Violin and Free Air within a very small pitch range
and is produced with the narrow and shortened vocal tract of Flute
Configuration. This system enables the practitioner to suspend supposition
regarding the emotional experience or personality characteristics allegedly
expressed and ascertain the vocal ingredients.
We also listen unconsciously to these ingredients when we hear different
singers. Some vocalists utilise Free Air, others have very disrupted voices.
Some types of song are well suited to the expanded Saxophone dimensions
of the vocal tract, whilst others require the contained nature of the Flute
Configuration. Furthermore, the singing styles and voice production
techniques indigenous to a specific culture tend to favour certain
combinations of ingredients. This component system of intuitive analysis
therefore also aims to provide a framework within which various cultural and
artistic styles of singing can be located.
The pedagogical use of the system requires the practitioner to teach
clients how to attain sufficient malleability of the vocal instrument to be able
to combine all vocal ingredients, thereby having at their disposal the
broadest possible vocal palette for professional, artistic and personal use. In
to
order to facilitate this in others it is absolutely essential for practitioners
possess such malleability themselves. A significant part of the accredited
training programmes in Voice Movement Therapy is therefore focused upon
training the student’s own voice to manifest a broad range of vocal
component combinations. Subsequent to the acquisition of this ability,
vocal
trainees learn the strategies by which to facilitate maximum
expressiveness in others.
The process of teaching voice naturally involves investigating both the

physical and the psychological reasons for the particular limitations to a
client’s voice. The application of this system therefore involves a certain
therapeutic process on a somatic and psychological level which requires of
the practitioner a compassionate, humanitarian and empathic response to the
vocal process at all times.
In the following and final chapter, I will document some case studies
which reveal the pedagogical and therapeutic use of this system to assist the
client’s healing process.
CHAPTER 6
Journeys Through Song

Case Studies in the Use of Voice Movement Therapy
Voice and Self-Identity

The set of ten vocal constituents which make up the core of the Voice
Movement Therapy method provides a coherent model for working with
clients through the medium of singing. Its primary therapeutic value rests in
the fact that when clients produce a particular combination of vocal
components for the first time, they listen to a part of their Self as though for
the first time and experience a radical shift of self-image, identity and
self-perception. New sounds create new identities, for the voice acts as an
acoustic mirror which reflects back to the vocalist an image of the Self in
sound.
The material of the voice is sensual and sensory. We hear it through the
senses. Frequently we hear the voice as though through the sense of touch.
We feel pinched, slapped, compressed, pierced, hammered, stroked, tickled,
or shaken by a voice. We hear the voice as though through the sense oftaste,
listening to the despondent bitterness, the citrus tang of jealousy or the
sugary sycophantic sweetness. We hear the colour ofa voice, the deep blue of
melancholia, the green of envy and the red of retaliation. We may also feel
the temperature of avoice, which can be experienced as warm, cool, burning
hot or ice cold. But it is not just the listener’s senses which are affected by the
voice. Often, the presence ofaparticular vocal quality also affects the way the
vocalist perceives herself. Our own voice feeds back messages to us through
our own ears. Our voice reaffirms who we are, how we are feeling and what
we are seeking. The voice serves an important function in maintaining our
sense of identity, for the sound of our voice reminds us of who we are, it
reinforces our sense of Self. In the same way that our identity is continually
reaffirmed by the visual reflection provided by a mirror, so too the sound of
our voice enables us to hear reflected an audible expression of our own image.
103
Consequently, changing the voice has the potential to alter both the way
others perceive us and the way we perceive ourselves.
As time passes we often become over-identified with a single image of
ourselves. We become dominated by the image of our self as a particular
character. We may become stuck in a child-like image, in a dominating and
bombastic image, in a kindly and self-effacing image. And all of these
self-images find expression through the quality of vocal tones.
Because the echo of the tone of our voice in our own ears is so important
in reaffirming our own image, we become caught in a vicious circle. The
bitterness or anxiety which we hear in our voice serves only to reinforce the
image of ourselves as bitter or anxious. The childlikeness or aggressiveness
which we hear in our voice reinforces the idea of our self as a child or an
aggressor. If our psyche becomes so saturated with a single emotional tone, it
may become difficult for us to communicate anything else and, without
warning, the voice simply lets us down. We may wish to express a particular
emotion or image, such as anger or authority; or we may need to instil
confidence or calm. But, our voice has become so identified with a particular
aspect of ourselves that it cannot move. It is as though the voice has become a
rigid mask which we are unable to take off. A person with such a mask may
feel mature but sound child-like, may feel enraged but sound intimidated,
may feel saddened but sound unmoved; they seek help but their voice signals
self-certainty; they seek warmth and affection, but their voice signals
guarded detachment; they seek respect but their voice attracts belittlement.
Often this can cause the person some distress, for what people hear on the
outside bears no relation to what the person feels on the inside.
Expanding the range of the voice and allowing it to dance freely through
all of itscolours provides us with an opportunity to step outside the fixity of
our familiar mask and reanimate the entire kaleidoscope of our personality.
Psychologically, this enables us to visit and express those parts of the Self
which have hitherto remained in the dark and undercover.
To do this it is necessary to peel back the layer of spoken words which
keeps deep emotion under wraps. We must once again allow the voice to
holler and roar, screech and lament. By transforming the voice in this way, we
can effect changes in the sense of Self. We can provide an opportunity for
every individual to hear themselves afresh. Then, when someone can hear
themselves as something more than the familiar limited personality to which
they have become accustomed, this new refreshed person can be voiced
outwardly in the world for others to hear.
JOURNEYS THROUGH SONG 105
Working through the singing rather than the speaking voice brings a
highly emotionalised dimension to this process. When a client discovers a
new set of ingredients, often the sound brings with it a tirade of emotion,
often connected to experiences from the distant past which have remained
unexpressed for a long time.
Singing provides at once both a catalyst and container for such intense
emotional experience. Singing allows for the discharge of emotions of
greater magnitude and longevity than talking. Yet singing also provides an
artistic framework which protects the client from becoming overwhelmed by
the products of an unsculptured catharsis of their pain.
Voice and Emotion

Many people seek therapeutic help of one kind or another because they
reach a realisation that they can no longer carry the burden of intense
psychological pain. Each verbal and linguistic language has a different word
for pain. Indeed, each language has a different word for sadness and
happiness, for fear and panic, for love and hate, for joy and sorrow. Yet, the
vocal sounds which express such universal emotions are recognisable in every
culture and in every society regardless of the language spoken.
When someone needs to express pain or anguish with authenticity and
s
intensity, verbal language is of little use; for psychological pain emanate
archetyp al. An
from a level of the psyche which is preverbal, transverbal and
expression
authentic expression of trauma necessitates vocal but non-verbal
expression. For the newly born
which means a return to an infantile mode of
traumas’: the trauma of
infant, life after the ‘birth trauma’ is a series of‘little
the trauma of
sudden changes of temperature; the trauma of hunger;
when the mother leaves the room; the trauma of radical
abandonment
the impedance ofair.
changes in acoustic environment as the ear adjusts to
cause is expressed
And the psychological anguish which these traumas
directly through vocal cries, wails and screams.
experience into a
The preverbal infant does not translate or de-scribe his
sion to it through
verbal culturally conditioned code; he gives direct expres
that point on even the
sound. However, once the child learns to speak, from
be named, worded and
most intense emotional experiences will have to
ed.
articulated in order to be communicated and accept
Yet for many people, the contents ofthe heart are simply beyond, beneath
with the trauma of
or above words. In addition to the burden of living
r torment that their pain
unhealed pain, many people therefore face the furthe
remains invisible because it cannot be spoken. For such people, providing an

opportunity for vocal expression through sound offers an effective vehicle
for healing.
One of the oldest and most well-established models of mind—body
functioning is the cathartic paradigm. According to a cathartic view, the
human organism is a hydraulic system capable of receiving and dispensing
energy. Energy enters and leaves the psychic and somatic system in a variety
of ways. Energy can enter the body through the ears, so that when someone
shouts at us, verbally abuses us or whispers sweet words of love to us, the
energy in our system is increased. The same amount of energy may then be
dispensed from our system if we verbally retaliate, punch our verbal
aggressor or return the loving compliment with a kiss. Energy can also enter
the system through the eyes. If we are exposed to a terrifying sight or if we set
our eyes upon something of incredible beauty, then our psychic energy is
increased. And this energy can be released through our behavioural
reactions, such as running away screaming orsinging the praises of the
beauty which we behold.
The cathartic model proposes that to maintain health, the system must be
kept ina state of energetic balance. Moreover, to keep the system in a state of
balance, the same amount of energy which enters the system must in turn be
released. However, there are many factors which prevent this from occurring:
fear, intimidation, shock and a host of social prohibitions often prevent
people from responding equally to the energetic events which influence
them. Asa result, a build-up of psychic energy occurs, causing an increase in
pressure within the system.
Many people experience psychological pain because they have been
traumatised either by a single event or by an ongoing situation; and the
consequent pain is often the result of an accumulation of emotional energy
which has not been discharged. A cathartic therapy is one which provides
someone with an opportunity to discharge this accumulated energy in a safe
place, as though reliving the original trauma but where the person is enabled
to react to it and to retaliate.
When someone is offered an opportunity for catharsis, it is as though the
emotional floodgates come bursting open and a historic backlog of
unexpressed pain comes flowing out, leaving the person with a sense of
having been relieved, perhaps even purged.
In order for a genuine catharsis to be facilitated, there has to be an open

channel through which psychic energy can be released — and the voice
provides such a channel.
The human voice is basically one long continuous tube which begins at
the lips, becomes the mouth, curls down to become the throat, continues
downwards into the neck becoming the larynx and travels on down into the
chest where it splits into two tubes, one passing into each lung. There is then
the sense that the voice is capable of bringing things up from deep inside the
body.
Vocal catharsis involves allowing a person to vocalise a gamut of sounds
which are emotionally charged and which depressurise the energetic system
by discharging emotions which have hitherto remained contained. Such a
process may be referred to as ‘anti-singing’; that is to say that the person is
taught to vocalise in such a way as to produce not the voice of beauty
appropriate to the aesthetics of the concert hall but a voice which gives
authentic acoustic form to pain through the non-beautiful voice. During a
vocal cathartic process within Voice Movement Therapy the client may sob,
wail, scream, bemoan, holler and screech as previously unexpressed trauma is
given shape through sound. This means that the practitioner plays the role of
a singing teacher, facilitating the client in acquiring a palette of sounds from
which to draw when vocalising extreme emotional material.
a
But, to be effective, a therapeutic process cannot end in a catharsis; and
process which uses voice as a primary channel of expression cannot end in
the silence which follows the echo ofvocalised pain. As the client discharges
emotion through sound and movement it is paramount that the practitioner
of
can seize the moment when sounds of anguish can become sounds
triumph, when sounds ofintimidation can become sounds of victory, when
sounds of horror can become sounds ofjoy and when sounds of grief can
become sounds of hope.
From Catharsis to Creativity

experienced
One of the problems with a cathartic therapy is that the relief
manifestation of
can turn out to be short-lived and the psychic and somatic
This can lead to a
trauma can quickly reconstellate as vigorously as before.
the client is
cyclical dependency on some kind of cathartic release where
hurt.
never really free from a repetitious return to an original
long-lasting, the
In my experience, in order for the cathartic relieftobe
arged emotion, transform it
client must be enabled to take hold ofthe disch
and, most importantly, make conscious expressive use of it. In this way, a
certain artistic distance is created between the client as generator of
emotional content and the client as a conscious sculptor of emotional form.
To understand the concept of ‘artistic distance’ and its therapeutic value it
is useful to consider the art of the singer. In the course of an evening concert,
a singer may sing a variety of emotionally charged songs from up-tempo,
light-hearted love songs to sorrowful ballads of desperation. In one song the
singer may be beaming with a smile and genuinely feel full of glee as she
sings; in the very next song the singer may weep and be genuinely full of
sadness. Yet there is distance between the experience of emotion and the
sculpturing of that emotion to form a song. Indeed, the song itself acts as a
formed container for emotion which, otherwise, may pour endlessly from the
voice without end.
If the singer is also the writer of her own songs, there may be a time,
during the original writing of the song, when the singer is overwhelmed with
emotion, particularly if she is drawing the song from her own traumatic
experience. In many ways, the writing of the song may provide for a certain
catharsis. But the art of the singer does not stop at this catharsis. The healing
occurs in the next phase where the song can be sung with enough recollected
authenticity of the original trauma to ensure an emotive realism but with
enough distance to ensure that the rendition ofthe song is artful. This is what
I have called ‘artistic distance’.
One ofthe most important things which this artistic distance provides is
the ability to reap pleasure from pain. For the singer will experience the act of
singing as highly pleasurable whilst at the same time experiencing
something ofthe pain which the song may describe. Indeed, many singers
will testify that the more painful the subject of the song the more pleasure is
reaped from singing it. It is as though singing enables us to link arms with
pain and remember its inevitable place in our life without finding our self
immovably clasped by its grip.
The client ofa therapeutic process which uses voice as a primary medium,
such as Voice Movement Therapy, may be compared to the singer. At first, a
flood of sound is poured out, giving acoustic shape to deep emotion, very
often of an extremely painful kind. But in time, this outpouring is familiar
enough to be heard as the rudiments of a song and can be formed. It can be
given melodic structure, rhythm and words. At this point, the client is not
only freed from a cycle of cathartic discharge but he is also, to a large extent,
free of the interventions of the practitioner. The client can now move the
body through space and guide the voice through the contours ofthe acoustic
palette, creating an authentic song and dance from the fresh vitality which is
uncovered by the release of pain — and the practitioner at this point is
primarily a witness.
But it is this transition from the release of pain to the discovery of pleasure
that presents the practitioner with the most difficult and sensitive task. In
fact, in my opinion, facilitating the vocalisation of pain is relatively a
straightforward procedure. But enabling that pain to be relinquished and
reinvented in the form of a genuine healed Self requires great diligence,
patience and sensitivity. For, if one attempts to heal pain too early, too quickly
or too superficially, then the hurt Self feels patronised, belittled and poorly
nursed and will, in an attempt to survive, persist all the more adamantly. On
the other hand, if the hurt Self is encouraged to discharge itself continually
without progression to an artistic mode of expression, the process of
catharsis will serve only to feed the very pain that it seeks to heal.
In dealing with clients whose primary need is the expression and
transformation of psychological pain, the Voice Movement Therapy
practitioner is therefore in the combined role of psychotherapist, singing
teacher and physical therapist. This means that the practitioner focuses
a
simultaneously on a number of tasks. First, she must be able to offer
she must be
compassionate understanding ofthe client's expressions; second,
balances
able to teach the client to release emotion through sound which
authenticity of emotion with healthy use ofthe vocal instrument; third, she
to assist the
needs to be able to manipulate the client's body in order
be able to lead the
surmounting of somatised trauma; and fourth, she must
healed Self may
client to a place of artistic distance from which the
If the practitioner
experience a pleasure greater than the pain of the hurt Self.
consequences of
can combine these tasks, then a client suffering from the
genuine healing
psychological pain can be offered a therapeutic process with
potential.
apeutically with
Singing then offers an opportunity to work psychother
identity. In this chapter, I
the two primary materials of the Self: emotion and
the way that the Voice
will offer some case studies which throw some light on
transformatively on
Movement Therapy system enables clients to work
themselves through the medium ofthe sung voice.
Case Study: Richard

I Heard the Plane Come Down
Richard, whom I introduced earlier, was one of a few who had survived an
aeroplane crash. Though he had remarkably and miraculously not sustained
any serious physical injury, the event had severe consequences regarding his
mental and emotional life.
His symptoms included insomnia, nightmares, periods of extreme
depression, suicidal fantasies and panic attacks. Prior to the accident he had
been married and held a job carrying considerable responsibility at a major
financial institution. However, he had never returned to work and one year
after the crash he was divorced.
Richard had received counselling twice a week for the first three months
after the accident and once a week for a further two months. Since then he
had not pursued any further therapy, but visited his general practitioner
frequently for a variety of medications including analgesics and
tranquillisers.
Prior to the accident, Richard had been a member of a choir where he
often sang solo and which was his central social and recreational pursuit.
Since the accident, however, he had not sung and said that he felt as though
his voice had dropped out of him. Before the accident, Richard had been an
outspoken person with a loud and resonant voice. Now, his speaking voice
was almost a whisper and he felt nervous when called upon to speak up for
himself. Richard had come into therapy because he wanted to refind his
singing voice in order that he could rejoin a choir and ‘begin to put his life
back together’. Moreover, he was somewhat guarded about working directly
on the experience of the accident because he said he had ‘been through it
over and over again in counselling’.
The only optical memory which Richard had of the plane crash was
seeing the head of the person he was sitting adjacent to separate from his
body. The rest was, he said ‘complete darkness’ until he was placed upon a
stretcher by the medical team. What Richard did have was a complete
spectrum of acoustic memories: engine noises, announcements of the pilot,
the screams of the passengers and the sirens of the emergency team. Indeed,
when Richard told the story, most of his sentences which described the three
minutes leading up to the point of impact — at which he became buried by
debris and contained by darkness — began with the words: ‘I heard’.
For example, he said ‘I heard the pilot announce his apologies for the
difficult take-off’; he said ‘I heard the crashing ofthe glasses in the steward
area’; he said ‘I heard the sirens of the emergency team and I knew I was
alive’; and he said ‘I heard someone say: “It’s all right, we are going to get you
out.”
I could not help being struck by the rhythm and tonality of the repetitious
use of the motif ‘I heard’ which began each of his sentences. I therefore asked
Richard to write them down ina long list and read them out aloud. He read:
I heard the engine rumble
I heard the plane jolt
I heard the captain say there was a problem
I heard the passengers cry
I heard the woman behind me praying
I heard the scraping of metal on tarmac
I heard the tyres skidding
I heard sirens whistling
I heard someone ask if Icould hear them
I heard the plane come down
Richard then found a melody for these lyrics by amplifying the natural
prosody of his speech.
At first, the voice with which he sang the song was very quiet, in a middle
Pitch range with a vibrato — or fast pitch fluctuation — in modal register. After
and
the first rendition, I asked Richard to recall the sound of metal on tarmac
to allow this image to influence the timbre of the voice. 1 suggested that he
infuse the voice with Violin, take away the pitch fluctuation and increase the
and
loudness. When he did this, the entire ambience of the song changed
of
Richard became highly mobilised as the song became like a combination
t gave
Marching Song, Folk Ballad and Protest Song. The Violin componen
quality made him feel
the song an edge and Richard said that the Violin
wounds were
strong and hard, like a soldier who had survived a battle. The
still there but there was an incredible sense of relief.
pitch scale on
Keeping the Violin quality, I began leading Richard up the
Richard to
single notes until his voice broke into falsetto register. | asked
medica l team had
think of the whistling sirens which he had heard when the
until he was high in
attended the scene of the accident. His voice ascended
song in a piercing
the altitude of his pitch range and he now sang the
in falsetto register and
whistle-like voice. This voice was loud, high in pitch,
in this voice, tears ran down
with a moderate amount of Free Air. As he sang
his cheeks, yet he stood absolutely motionless.
Richard said that this voice encapsulated the total fear and helplessness
which he had experienced during the accident: the word he used was
‘mesmerised’. The Free Air had brought a softness and vulnerability to the
voice which had made him cry. It was the first time he had actually cried since
the accident. Richard said that he had been ‘crying inside’ since the accident
but had not been able to let his tears out.
We now worked on the song combining both the high voice which had a
lot of Free Air and which made him feel helpless and the lower voice with
had a lot of Violin which made him feel strong and relieved. As he sang the
song, he blended the two voices together, moving from phrases of exquisite
vulnerability to phrases of powerful declamation. He sang the song many
times and used the various components of his voice to express fear and rage,
sorrow and triumph.
When this work was over, Richard felt that he had at last managed to
‘bring into the open’ feelings and images which, since the accident, had
remained ‘inside’. The singing of the event was very different to the talking
about the event which he had done in earlier therapy. And, most importantly,
he had been able to cry, and with his tears came the expression of emotions
which had been buried for a long time.
Case Study: John

Of Mice and Men
Unfortunately there are many whose tears have dried up in the heat of life’s
scorching blaze and who, knowingly or not, suffer the impoverishment
which comes with the absence of weeping. Yet everyone can reclaim their
ability to cry and the impulse may be provoked by something seemingly
trivial. For when we are children, our tears are not provoked by tragedies of
enormity but by the little things which are so important to us when we are
little ourselves.
A man called John whom I once worked with provides a touching
example of the magnitude ofsuch small remembered things. John was a clear,
confident and eloquent speaker and felt at ease introducing himself to the
Voice Movement Therapy group. He could raise his voice in Loudness with
no trouble; he could assert both his strength and his opinions and could
readily mobilise himself to anger, which he expressed through the booming
resonant tones of his voice. However, John did not cry. In fact, John confessed
that he never felt sadness, sorrow or any sensation that might move him to
tears; and this had started to bother him. His healing journey was to reclaim
his weeping.
On the first day of the group process John had written a song about a pet
rabbit which he had when he was a child. On the second day, I worked with
John individually and asked him to sing a single note gently into the palm of
his hand and to imagine that he had a wounded rabbit in his palm. His voice
was in modal register with quite a lot ofViolin, in Clarinet timbre but with no
Free Air. As John sang, I asked him to mime stroking the rabbit with his other
hand. To see this six-foot tall man with shoulders broad enough to bear a
nation uttering such sweet and gentle tones was a truly stirring sight.
As John sang I noticed tiny rhythmical spasms in his abdomen and so I
placed my hand gently on his belly. As I did this he let out a long sigh as
though something had changed gear. His voice now undulated with a gentle
pitch fluctuation and became full of Free Air, as though a gate had opened
allowing his breath to come pouring through. I asked John to raise the pitch
of the note and to decrease the loudness, as though he did not want to
frighten the tiny creature in his hand. I suggested that he was the Rabbit
Healer, a lone outcast that lived in the forest without human contact but who
could communicate with the animals. He looked at me with inquisitive
resonance as though in an uncanny way I had touched on something close to
his heart. John’s voice now began to break between modal and falsetto
register; his shoulders hunched and he began walking around the studio, as
this
though alone in the forest. John began singing the words to his song in
full of Free
new voice that was quiet, high in pitch with a gentle fluctuation,
Air and which sobbed back and forth between the two registers.
Gentle one you have been hurt and no one really knows
At the bottom of the garden we talk in rabbit speak
and our friendship grows
My world is hidden between these trees
I don’t like boys or girls
But to be alone with my tiny friends
Is all I really need
the triviality of the
John said that he felt embarrassed by his song and
him in continuing to
memory; yet he was clearly choked and I supported
out of modal into
sing. Then, in the middle of the song as his voice broke
more emotive and
falsetto, John began to cry. The more he cried, the
provocative his voice became and a number of people in the witnessing

group were now also moved to tears.
John later said that whilst singing into the palm of his hand he had
remembered how, as an only child who was awkward and often ridiculed at
school, he had found solace in animals. In particular, he remembered playing
for hours at the bottom of the garden where he would talk to his rabbits in a
pretend make-believe language. Somehow this simple memory, provoked by
finding the space to place his body and voice back in that garden, had
unlocked tender emotions which he had not allowed himself to express since
he was a child: feelings of loneliness, sorrow, and despair.
Case Study: Teri

Daddy's Little Princess
Teri came into therapy because she felt her voice was too high in pitch, too
‘breathy’ and too ‘child-like’. She worked as a clerk at a law firm and a
number of her colleagues had told her that her voice sounded childish. She
had applied for the promotion due to her three times; and three times she had
failed. Had she been awarded the post she sought, for which she was amply
experienced and qualified, it would have involved a considerable amount of
telephone contact with clients. She felt that the sound of her voice was the
main reason that she had missed promotion.
Teri had chosen to work through Voice Movement Therapy in the hope
that it might enable her to lower the pitch of her voice and to sound ‘more
mature’. At the same time she was a little worried because her boyfriend liked
her voice and she was concerned that she might lose his affections if her voice
changed too much.
As Teri explained her story I noticed that her speaking voice did create
the impression of naiveté and susceptibility; and her entire demeanour was
very pubescent. When Teri began to sing a long continuous note I noticed
that she placed her hands together in front of her and protruded her hips to
one side. Her voice was in Flute timbre, high in pitch, in falsetto register with
lots of Free Air and a moderate amount of Violin. As I listened and watched
she reminded me of Marilyn Monroe, whom she said she had always
admired.
Teri's parents had separated when she was eight years old and she had
lived permanently with her father, visiting her mother for one day twice a
month. Her mother had been an alcoholic as well as suffering from
intermittent mental illness. Teri had one brother, four years her senior, who
went away to college when he was 16. Teri had therefore lived alone with
her father from the age of 12 until she left home at 18. Teri loved her father;
she almost idolised him. He had protected her, cherished her, doted on her
every smile, succumbed to her every wish and provided for her every need —
so long as she remained his little girl. When she reached adolescence and
began to want the freedom to explore the world beyond the exclusivity of
the paternal dotage, her father had not been so good at letting her go as he
had been at keeping her near.
In preparation for the next session I asked Teri to find two songs which
reflected some of the aspects of her therapeutic journey. The next session she
returned with ‘My Heart Belongs to Daddy’ — immortalised by Marilyn
Monroe — which she had practised to the gleeful and supporting admiration
of her boyfriend; and ‘Come on Baby, Light my Fire’, which her boyfriend
had said was ‘too low and too aggressive’ for her. When she sang ‘My Heart
Belongs to Daddy’ her natural light, frivolous, pubescent voice effervesced as
she imbued the song with the tantalising charismatic enticement of a
coquette. When it came to singing ‘Come on Baby, Light my Fire’ she had
more difficulty at first because she could not lower the pitch of the voice and
create the rich, deep resonant tonal colour that she wanted. So I asked her to
go in the opposite direction and to sing it extremely high in an exaggerated
child-like voice, as though the young girl inside her was protesting in a
tantrum ofindignation and demand. I asked her to increase the amount of
Violin and the amount of Free Air and, as Teri sang the song, I kept enabling
her to go a little higher. With each ascending note, Teri's persona became
more unruly as she located her indomitable spirit. 1 suggested to her that we
seemed to be uncovering the defiant and recalcitrant juvenile behind the
pliable fledgling damsel. As she sang higher and higher so she became
rambunctious and intemperate, her arms splayed like the wings of an eagle,
her lips curled back to expose the gnashing of her teeth and each word ofthe
song pierced the room of my consulting room like a series of gold darts.
When we paused, Teri was both enlivened and disturbed. She said that
s and such
she had never in all her life expressed such power, such wildnes
part of
vitality. But she said that she felt very scared because finding this
,
herself reminded Teri of her mother. Teri had not only been over-protected
mollycoddled and girlified by a father who wanted his daughter to remain
had
his princess and replace the sweet wife he had lost to wild abandon. She
or intempe rate
also been discouraged from expressing any kind of voracious
. In fact,
feelings because it reminded her father too much of Teri’s mother
had told her that if she
Teri recalled a number of times when her father
. In many
continued to ‘behave that way’ she would ‘end up’ like her mother
a woman
ways, Teri kept herself from growing up and finding the voice of
her mother
because her first and most potent experience of a woman was
did not
who had been presented as crazy, out of control and incapable. Teri
of her father and
want to become her mother, so she played into the hands
end
remained a little girl and from here she went into the lap of her boyfri
aged the same child-l ike
who was 12 years older than her and who encour
parts of her.
As Teri and I began to fit the pieces together she burst into tears of fury
and began yelling at her mother: “Where were you? Where were you?’ Her
breathing became deeper and her face was awash with tears as I heard her
voice drop by at least an octave. This new voice was in Saxophone timbre,
low in pitch in modal register with no Free Air and very little Violin. This was
the voice she had been looking for. Teri’s voice tube had probably never
expanded so much in all her life. The Saxophone timbre was so unfamiliar to
Teri that, at one point, she stopped and said ‘Is that really me?’.
L asked Teri to write some spontaneous lyrics for a song which expressed
the feelings behind her tears. She wrote:
In your mad attic far away from me
I cannot reach you though you're always in my dreams
With your eyes glazed and your tongue wild
My father keeps you hidden in case you infect me
I want to grow up not to be like you
But I don’t know who you are and miss you every day
Mother won’t you come and rescue me
Better to be crazy in your arms than sanely on my own
I’m lonely and afraid though father loves me so
Where were you, where are you, it’s not fair you had to go
As she read the song over and over, she turned the prosody of her speech into
a melody. She now sang the song in a deep exuberant and ebullient tone
which washed through the consulting room like a river of molten chocolate.
Her hands rested upon her belly as the tonal colour of her voice became
increasingly sumptuous and rounded. This was a voice which crackled with
the sediment of a mature red wine; this was a voice with the power to
intoxicate and ignite; this was a voice aflame with fire.
Teri had discovered that she could release the voice of her matured
invincible spirit without going mad; she had realised that though her father
loved her he had also belittled her; and she declared that her vocal telephone
manner would not be quite the same again. During the time I worked with
Teri two things occurred. She was promoted to the post she had wanted; and
she parted from her boyfriend. The one event brought her great joy; the
other great sorrow. Yet, Teri felt convinced that she could not grow within
the confines of her boyfriend’s needs any more than she had been able to
transcend her girlhood within the parameters of her father’s expectations. So
she moved on and cleared the road ahead with a voice of depth and courage.
Our voice is affected by the way it is heard; and sometimes we silence a
whole range and spectrum oftimbral colours because those whom we love
find them difficult to hear. It is sad but true that sometimes we have to take
our leave of those we love if we are to be free to voice who we really are. For if
others can only love a few notes in the melody of our Self, then they cannot
love us truthfully. We cannot be servants to song and give refrain only to the
tunes which others require. For we need to sing the song ofour own Self. But
if we can have the courage to change our tune and sing our own serenade,
allowing all our voices to emerge, then we can open our heart to the loving
ears of those who want to hear us. A true voice attracts true love. This path is
never easy and never without sadness and loss. But once the sonorous
vibrations of change have been sounded, we cannot close our ears to them
though life would seem easier if we could.
Case Study: Brigitte

The Good Woman
I once worked with a woman called Brigitte whose therapeutic journey
involved the doleful and lamentable acknowledgement of her losses as well
as the delightful and enchanted rediscovery ofthe spirit from which she had
been separated. Hers was a journey which, like the journeys of many, touched
the paradoxical core of tears which are shed in joy and sorrow
simultaneously.
Brigitte was a good woman; she had been a good wife to her husband, a
good mother to her two children and a good friend to all those in her circle.
She had been hostess, envoy and confederate in attendance as she followed
her husband around the globe in service of his profession. At diplomatic
parties she had been beguiling and graceful, exalting her husband’s name
and extolling the importance of his missions. She had stood at the side of
rugby pitches and football grounds cheering her sons as they touched down
and kicked off. She had listened to all of their stories, colluded in all of their
antics and risen out ofbed in the early hours of many mornings to fetch them
back from the alcoholic parties of adolescent debauchery, placing toast and
orange juice at their table before they fell asleep between the cotton sheets
which she ironed with obedient regularity.
Now Brigitte’s husband had retired and her boys had left the nest.
Brigitte was lost, a little dazed and without the sense of purpose or function
which had guided her for so long. She was in bereavement though nobody
had died.
Brigitte began to make a sound. Her chest raised as she inhaled, her eyes
sparkled and she intoned a long note which was fragile, light and quivered
with a shaky tentativeness. Her voice was full of Free Air and pitch
fluctuation and as she vocalised I placed my hand upon her chest and exerted
a little pressure. This caused Brigitte’s voice to increase substantially in
loudness and as she sang I felt the imploring for reassurance in her eyes. ‘It’s
OK,’ I said, ‘Just let it flow from your heart’. It was then that Brigitte emitted
a tirade of sobbing. She blubbered and howled as her chest rose and fell like
an elevator passing up and down through the tower of Babylon. Her face
became showered with the waters of her tears. A backlog of feeling that had
been stored up behind her eyes poured down like rain.
As she cried I noticed that her voice traced a five-note melody which she
repeated each time she expired. Holding her close to me with my arm around
her shoulders and my other hand still placed firmly upon her chest I sang the
melody with her encouraging her to expand upon it. Within a few minutes
she was singing and crying at the same time, her cheeks red, her eyes wet, her
voice resounding like a bassoon. Her voice passed fluidly from low notes to
high. In falsetto register her voice gleamed and shone like a golden fleece. In
modal register her voice folded and churned like hot maple syrup. Then she
stopped and began to laugh. I laughed with her. ‘I don’t know why I am
crying, Brigitte whispered as she chuckled, ‘I am not really sad about
anything’. I looked into her eyes and smiled and asked her if she could think
of asong that we could work with. She mentioned ‘Crying’ which she had
heard sung by Roy Orbison.
Brigitte stood tall, her eyes still damp and her cheeks still flushed and
sang this song with poise and remorse, with zeal and yearning.
I was all right for a while

I could smile for a while
But when I saw you last night
You held my hand so tight
When you stopped to say hello
You wished me well
You couldn’ tell
That I'd been crying over you
The group watched and listened and in the moments after the song came to
its end there was a viscous silence which preceded the appreciative applause.
Later that day, Brigitte spoke of how she felt in some way bereaved. She
had laid down so much ofherselfinorder to serve her husband and sons and
in the process had lost her voice in a family of male voices. Now her husband
and sons no longer pulled upon her service, she also felt bereaved of her role
as mother and wife. Her identity had melted and there seemed nothing to
take its place. Her crying had been both an expression of her grief and at the
same time a reclaiming of her own voice of feminine pathos. It was herself
that she was crying over. She had always wanted to hear herself sing but
never thought she could, never thought she would.
Case Study: Anne

I Do Like to Be Beside the Seaside
Anne’s first glance at the world was through the confining walls ofa plastic
are
incubator. But that was not all. During the period when most children
of her second
beginning to talk, Anne was very sick and spent the majority
and third year in and out ofa hospital crib.
birth,
Apparently, her mother was an anxious woman who, after Anne’s
Anne's life,
lived with the knowledge that her baby might die. Throughout
recovered
her mother had been over-protective, as though she never quite
Anne had entered
from the possibility of losing her daughter. As a result,
shy, lacking in
adult life with little worldly wisdom. She was extremely
self-confidence and described herself as very quiet.
was reasonably
Anne worked as a secretary in a shipping office. She
speaki ng voice was
happy but felt that people saw her as insignificant. Anne’s
habitual gesture of
quiet, high in Pitch and full of Free Air and she had a
her forehead.
brushing the fringe of her hair out of her eyes and across
Anne found entering conversations very difficult. She said that when a
group of people were talking together, she felt as though she could wait
forever for a door to open and let her in. Once she found her way through the
door, however, she was able to talk freely, so long as the nature of the
conversation was not competitive or argumentative. I asked Anne what she
would change about herself
ifshe could. She replied instantly that she would
like to find a man whom she could love and who would love her in return; and
she said that in order to do this she felt she needed to be more able to express
her strength and aggression.
When I first asked Anne to make a long open sound, she sang a note
which was, to my ears, melancholic, romantic and sombre. Her voice was
high in pitch with lots of Free Air, in falsetto register and Clarinet timbre
with just a smattering of Violin. I asked her to journey around her voice
making playful child-like sounds. She sang beautiful light notes on ‘do bee
doo tum be go la woo’. She giggled and remarked on how simple and yet
how enjoyable it felt to do this. As I listened to Anne sing, it aroused in me the
image of Audrey Hepburn or Grace Kelly standing on a bridge in the arms of
a chivalrous gentleman. I asked Anne to allow the notes to wander up and
down and suggested that she sing with an air of romance. As her voice began
weaving gently and graciously a little higher and alittle lower, Anne began to
weep.
Anne had never had a relationship with a man, although she was 26 years
old. She wanted love, the love of aman. She desired to contact her strength
and aggression because she believed this would prevent her from being
ignored and enable her to seek a relationship confidently. But neither
strength nor aggression was the goal. Love was.
As I knew that Anne loved to listen to music, I asked her to find some love
songs before the next session and to learn the one which moved her the most.
She arrived a week later with a piece of paper upon which were inscribed the
words of ‘The Way We Were’. As she sang this song I envisioned a young
couple waltzing along a pier or a promenade accompanied by the lapping
waves and a distant accordion. When I told her this, she smiled and recalled
a
time when her father had taken her to the seaside without her mother or her
brother. In the evening, before returning home, her father had sat with her on
the pier and he had taught her a song about a lonesome sailor. Anne had
inherited her musical inclination from her father who had loved to sing and
played accordion.
I now asked Anne to sing ‘The Way We Were’ a second time, imagining
that she was once again on the pier singing to her father. She did this
exquisitely; and as she sang, | noticed that the hand which usually brushed
her fringe across her forehead was now stroking her upper chest, in the
region of the heart. This choreographic sweeping movement which had
drawn my attention from the beginning seemed to take on more depth now
that her hand was upon her heart rather than her brow. But, before Anne
reached the end of the song she stopped, began to cry and sob violently and
then, in an instant, her sorrow turned to rage and she began yelling ‘It isn’t
fair’, over and over again.
Her mother had not only protected Anne from the outside world, but also
from her father whom her mother had perceived as too coarse, crude and
altogether a bad influence. Her parents divorced when Anne was 13 and her
mother made it extremely difficult for her daughter to visit her father, whom
Anne missed terribly. When Anne was 19, her father died suddenly in a
boating accident.
Anne had not felt threatened by her father at all. In fact she remembered
him as affectionate, warm and understanding. With regard to her mother,
held or
meanwhile, Anne could not remember ever being cuddled or kissed,
from
sang to by her. She had gone from the womb to a plastic incubator and
the incubator to the cool and mechanical arms of her anxious mother.
and
I sat quietly but with my heart in full attendance while Anne yelled
so much previou sly
screamed and raged. She seemed to be releasing
extinguishing
unexpressed emotion. She felt so incensed at her mother for
intensif ied by the fact that
the relationship Anne had with her father — a rage
time her heart was
the man was now dead and it was all too late. At the same
drenched in grief for the father she almost had.
face was red, her
The sounds which Anne made were highly intense; her
was deep as a barrel
eyes gleamed with the glare of apanther, her breathing
wondered if anyone had
and the walls shook with the volume of her voice. |
to release such sound
been there for Anne in a way which permitted her
before.
g, I pointed out that
When Anne eventually settled and we began talkin
and retaliatory quality and I
her voice had, during her rage, taken on a robust
d together the following
helped Anne rediscover this sound when we worke
in pitch, in Saxophone timbre
week. This new voice was extremely loud, low
mely fast pitch fluctuation.
and modal register and thundered with an extre
ether different sound to the
Leading Anne down the scale, she found an altog
graceful voice of the young woman in love. This sound was ravenous, dark
and enfolding. It was also low down in the range of a classical baritone as it
flowed out of her like a deep dark river. I also noticed that Anne had replaced
the stroking of her heart with a new dance. Both hands were now rubbing
her belly in a circular motion as though this new sound somehow emerged
from there.
The next time we worked Anne practised moving back and forth between
the two sounds which she had discovered: the light romantic sound of love
and the weighted, deep sound of rage. She slipped easily between the two
and as she did this, I asked her to develop her hand-dance by touching her
chest and then her belly. What had at first been a nervous repetitive gesture of
brushing her fringe out of her eyes now took on balletic eloquence and
proportion. As she sang in the light voice, she ran her palm over her chest and
extended her arm outwards as though taking her heart upon her sleeve and
offering love to her suitor. When she sang in the weighted voice, she caressed
her belly as though damned up behind the walls of her abdomen was a
powerful flood of determination.
The two distinct voices were highly significant for Anne. The light, high
voice expressed a number of things. It was the voice of the little girl who had
been denied the man she first loved, her father, who was both sailor and
singer. But this was also the voice of aromantic young woman who had so
much love to give and who was searching for a man to love her and not leave
her as her father had done. Meanwhile, her low baritone voice encapsulated
the rage against her mother whom she felt had suffocated her. It also,
however, expressed the deep strength she had, a strength which she felt in
her belly. This was not the strength of anger or aggression, it was not the
voice of attack or revenge. This was a voice which expressed the strength
inherent in the virtues of patience, perseverance and faithfulness.
When I saw Anne for our next session she told me that our work togethe
r
had prompted her to visit her mother. She had felt that she somehow wanted
to get beneath the rage and disappointment and find some warmth in the
relationship.
To Anne's amazement, her mother disclosed that a year before
Anne’s
birth she had lost her first baby to a hereditary illness at only eight
months
old. From that point on, there had been no affection between
Anne’s mother
and father. Anne’s father had begun drinking and had, in her mother’
s words,
‘closed down and shut off’. From this conversation, Anne
learned what her
mother had endured and how her mother had lived with the
fear of losing
her second child whilst trying to sustain a marriage after the lights had gone
out.
During the session, we worked on her voice, aiming to bring together the
light romantic sound and heavy dark sound into a single quality. At the end,
Anne said that she felt she had discovered the real sadness: that her mother
and father could not have both taken her to the seaside as a family, that her
father never again sang to his wife after the death of his first-born, that she
only ever saw her mother’s cool disposition without knowing how it had
come to be.
Some weeks later, when we finished our work together, Anne said that she
had noticed herself both giving and receiving more warmth and affection in
her workplace. She found this strange as she had originally imagined that she
needed to express herself more aggressively. Yet she was now actually
extending her heart to her colleagues in a way that was both vulnerable yet
strong. In return, her professional associates were smiling at her, asking if she
was well, looking at her straight in the eye. Anne said she felt as though she
was thawing out after a big chill.
[heard from Anne six months after her last session. She had fallen in love.
I never did hear what happened, but whatever the outcome I like to imagine
that Anne and her man made it to the seaside and found time to stand upon
the pier and sing to the ocean.
Client’s Account: Janice

Fear of Opening
Janice, whom I introduced in the first volume ofthis series (Newham 1999),
horn. At
was a professional musician. Her primary instrument is the French
g success as a much
the height of her career when she was enjoyin
one night
sought-after player, Janice was consecutively raped by three men
to hold her
on her way home after a concert. Two ofthe three men took turns
to the ground whilst the other raped her.
shock, Janice
Despite the severe physical pain and the extreme emotional
tried to scream but
could barely make a sound throughout her ordeal. She
did get anywhere
could only produce a muffled shout. Whenever her voice
d her mouth with
near being loud enough to be heard, her oppressors covere
to play with the
their hands. As a result of her ordeal, Janice was unable
counselling twice a
orchestra for ten months, during which time she received
week.
Since the ordeal she had suffered three main physical symptoms: a feeling
that she had an iron bar running vertically down the centre of her torso, a
feeling of constriction around the throat and constant breathlessness. In
addition, her voice felt paralysed. She came into therapy to try and regain
some vocal strength and overcome the breathlessness but she also hoped for
some further emotional healing in relation to the consequence of her having
been raped.
When Janice vocalised it was in Flute with a great deal of Free Air. The
sound also had a gentle vibrato which created the quality associated with
someone who is nervous, perhaps even afraid. Janice said that when she
vocalised, especially on a long continuous note, she felt the ‘iron bar’ tingling
all the way down her chest.
As Janice vocalised over a period of about 15 minutes, I massaged the area
vertically descending from the base of her neck to the pit of her stomach as
well as the musculature each side of her spine. As I massaged and Janice
vocalised, we both moved in a dance which took its impulses from Janice’s
emotional journey.
During the massage, Janice went from fear, to rage, to triumph. At times
she sobbed and shook, at times she yelled in despair and at other times she
called out: ‘Get away, get away’. As she called out these words: ‘Get away’,
she held on to my arm with a vice-like grip, pulling me towards her. .
When working with someone who has suffered the kind of trauma which
Janice went through, the practitioner plays two roles in the fantasy of the
client. First, in the case of Janice, being a man, I was in many ways
representative of her assailants and during the session, Janice needed to
identify me as the enemy in order to express her rage and anger vocally in a
fashion that felt real. At the same time, I also represented the helper, the man
that would save her from her assailants; she therefore needed to know that I
would be there for her as she went through her intense experience.
As Janice called out: ‘Get away, get away’ and held on to my arm, I
whispered to her: ‘It’s all right, I am right here’. At this point, she put her
other hand on her chest and said that it was all tingling and going soft.
I asked her to lean over from the waist and imagine that the voice was
pouring out of her like a liquid and she began vocalising in a series of long
sounds like the siren on a ship. I asked her to imagine that she was singing
down into a well and that her voice echoed in the open abyss. As she did this,
I massaged her abdomen and in time, her voice opened into Saxophone. She
was very hot and clammy and her breathing rate was very quick with the
primary area ofvisible motility in the upper chest. | continued to massage her
abdomen and encouraged her to breathe with abdominal expansion. This
slowed down the breathing rate and increased the amount ofinspired air.
Janice now came up to standing. Her face was red, her pupils were dilated
and her hands and arms started thrashing about. As her arms gyrated, her
voice whizzed round and round in siren-like sweeps. I placed my arms under
hers and followed them about and it turned into a kind of martial arts dance.
Janice began to make ‘karate-like’ movements with her arms and her voice
took on an aggressive quality, punctuated with rhythmic bursts.
I now stood back and moved to her front where we could make eye
contact. She said: ‘I want to go up — can 1?’. I said: ‘Of course’ and she started
ascending the pitch range in Saxophone going all the way up to a piercing
whistle which she sustained for about a minute before breathing and
repeating it again. The piercing whistle-like scream went on and on as
though it would never stop.
As she vocalised, I asked her to imagine that she was a great white bird,
a mythical
flying above the cool pacific sea, swooping and gliding, like
ultra-high
creature from Wagner, and asked her to improvise a melody in this
so high it would have made
range. She began to sing in a voice so clear and
the audience at Covent Garden fall from their seats.
ed on.
Her arm movements became wing movements and her voice whistl
was a bird of
Then I asked her to continue singing imagining that she
and settle on the
prey, swooping in her search for food. I wanted her to stop
ground, but she would not.
over onto the
Eventually, Janice came to stillness and eventually rolled
got onto her back on
floor. She later told me that she was terrified that if she
not be able to move. She
the floor her voice would go again and she would
e of the rape again.
was afraid offinding herself back in the paralysed silenc
up in the air, her arms
As Janice rolled over onto her back, her legs went
reached its crescendo. Then
gyrated and tore the air to shreds and her voice
back down to the floor again,
she leapt up onto her feet, sung out and fell
round this cycle, proving to
rolling over on to her back. She went round and
freely from the position she
herself that she could vocalise fully and move
on.
had been raped in to a triumphant standing positi
time to sit and write a
When she stopped, I asked Janice to take some
and told her that we would
stream of words which expressed her experience
use the words as the lyrics to a song.
She returned with:
The iron in my chest

The rage in my heart
The blood in my cunt
The poison in their eyes
The sorrow in my soul
The danger in my trust
The ending of this tale
Has now become a must
Listen to my voice
And let me live again
We now returned to vocalising in the high whistle in Saxophone timbre
which she had discovered, but this time she sang the words — like a diva. Over
the next few weeks, Janice wrote a number of songs and sang them, both in
her sessions with me and on her own. Her breathlessness decreased and her
voice returned; and she soon returned to playing in the orchestra.
When Janice’s work with me came to an end she said that though the
intensity of her catharsis in the sessions had been a core part of her healing, it
was the channelling of the discharged emotions into her own songs which
gave her the self-empowerment to move on. When we write and sing our
own songs, the material of our pain takes artistic shape and becomes
something more than the residue of our suffering; it becomes sacred,
communicative and elevated.
Client’s Song: Vicky

Ungluing the Voice
Finally, I will return to Vicky, whom I introduced earlier.
To recap, Vicky was repeatedly abused by her father who made her engage
in oral sex. Her memories were very vivid, particularly the feeling of ‘a
numb
helplessness’ in her body as her father knelt on her arms to keep her
down.
Vicky came to work on herself through Voice Movement Therapy
because,
although psychotherapy had enabled her to deal with and overcom
e many of
the issues and heal some of the damage, some problems remained.
The main
problem was a feeling of tightness in her throat and what she describ
ed as ‘an
incredibly inhibited voice’. Whenever she came to project
her voice or speak
up about something important, she would feel a ‘stickiness’
in her throat, as
JOURNEYS THROUGH SONG L272
though her voice was ‘covered with something’ that made it ‘dull and unable
to flow fluidly’.
Early in her therapeutic process, Vicky had written and musicalised the
following journey song:
Sperm and cream it makes me scream
Daddy made me suck his big Jimmy Dean
My arms went dead and the voice in my head
Told me to endure this sight obscene
I was only little with no real choice
Oh please God let me take the glue from my voice
I have tried to fight and punch and kick
To expel from my mouth his big salty prick
But the more I try the more I cry
And I choke and spew and people wonder why
For Dad is dead and no one gets
Why my voice is stuck and why I seem upset
But ifIfeel quite safe and no one hurts me so
I can relax my body and I start to let go
And when I do my voice unglues
And I start to hear myself afresh and anew
register with a
When Vicky sang the song, it was in Flute timbre, in falsetto
that she
moderate amount of Free Air quite high in pitch. She now felt
that her
wanted to sing the song with a different quality of voice. She said
wanted to get
voice sounded restricted and weak and that she felt like she
angry but did not know how.
to sing with a
L asked Vicky to increase radically the amount ofViolin and
lot more loudness.
of a razor
Her voice now sounded cutting and conjured in me the image
the nasality of the
blade. I asked her to ascend the Pitch scale, increasing
ing. As she vocalised,
voice imagining the sound was cutting through someth
marching on the spot. I
the sound became machine-like and Vicky began
held a blade of some kind
asked her to swing her arms and imagine that she
voice was now high in
with which she was hacking back undergrowth. Her
tion and had opened
pitch and in falsetto register with a very fast pitch fluctua
into Saxophone timbre.
this time without Violin.
I then asked Vicky to continue vocalising, but
ut this ingredient, she felt
She attempted this but then complained that witho
weak and defenceless, whereas the presence ofthe Violin ingredient made
her sound and feel empowered.
So, we now returned to her Journey Song and she sang it with various
combinations of ingredients, but always with a lot of Violin. It sounded
incredibly self-possessed and Vicky said that this was the voice of rage and
retaliation which she had been looking for. In particular, the opening of the
voice tube to Saxophone and the infusing of the voice with Violin created a
vocal identity which she found very strengthening. In fact, she said that it
sounded like a whole other person — a person that she said she wanted to get
to know.
A Final Note
One of the main skills in Voice Movement Therapy is knowing which
combination of vocal ingredients will enable a client to liberate a freedom of
psychological expression. The ingredients which make up the Voice
Movement Therapy system are not just acoustic entities which provide a
convenient model of vocal analysis. The ingredients also act as emissaries for
psychological and emotional material. Of course, we must beware of
simplistic diagnostic paradigms where we fall into the trap of proposing that
a particular vocal ingredient or combination thereof consistently expresses a
specific psychic component. For the components of voice are utilised in
unique ways by each person. However, one thing seems to be certain: the use
of the vocal components provides the practitioner with a means of enabling
the client to discover a malleability of vocal expression and provides the
client with a language of self-revelation within which certain emotional
experiences can be contained and expressed by specific sounds.
The aforementioned case studies provide an insight into the relationship
between the spectrum of vocal sounds and the spectrum of human
experience. It is for time to tell the diversity of client populations for whom
such a method proves fruitful.
During the course of exploring different combinations of ingredients,
many people, like Vicky, momentarily experience a shift of identity, as
though encountering another character. In addition to the use of song, as
described in this volume, Voice Movement Therapy also makes provision for
the use of theatre by giving the client an Opportunity to create dramatic
characters which emanate from vocal identities. It is this specific use of
theatre, rooted in an extensive use of the voice, which I will explore
in the
next volume of this series Using Voice and Theatre: The Practical Application of
Voice Movement Therapy.
APPENDIX I
The Voice Movement Therapy

System of Vocal Analysis
The System of Vocal Analysis
The following is a succinct recap of the ten ingredients which constitute the
Voice Movement Therapy system of vocal analysis. Please note that the
ingredients are presented in this Appendix in a different order to the order in
which they are explained in Chapter Five. The use of the ingredients does not
necessitate that they be fixed to a particular sequence and the numbers given
to each ingredient are arbitrary.
Component One: Pitch

Each vocal sound is perceived to have a certain pitch, note or
fundamental tone, determined by the frequency ofvocal cord vibration.
This is perceived within the metaphor of high to low, though in fact it
does not relate to spatial dimensions but to speed of vibration in time.
The initial sound which is shaped and coloured to produce a unique human
voice is made by the vibration ofthe vocal cords. These two folds oftissue,
also known as the vocal folds, lie stretched out in the larynx. At the front they
are attached to the Adam’s apple or thyroid cartilage and at the back they are
connected to two movable cartilages called the arytenoids.
the
These two pieces of tissue are further attached to the trachea and
surrounding inner walls of the larynx by a complex set of muscles known
ng
collectively as the intrinsic laryngeal musculature. During normal breathi
like an open pair of
the vocal folds lie at rest, one each side of the larynx,
the
curtains allowing air to pass freely through a window. The hole between
glottis. However ,
vocal folds through which air passes is called the
ture can
adjustments in the distribution of tension in the laryngeal muscula
g or leaving the
cause the vocal folds to close, preventing air from enterin
a window.
trachea, like a thick pair of curtains drawn tightly shut across
129
The sound of the human voice is generated by the rapid and successive
opening and closure of the vocal cords many times per second and it is to this
process that people refer when they speak of the vibration of the vocal cords.
This rapid vibration of the vocal cords causes the expelled air from the lungs
to be released through the glottis in a series of infinitesimal puffs which
create a sound wave.
The faster the vocal cords vibrate, the higher the pitch. The slower they
vibrate, the lower the pitch. As a useful point of reference, to sing middle C,
the vocal cords must vibrate about 256 times per second. To sing the A above
middle C they must vibrate at around 440 times per second.
Because the vocal folds are attached front and back to the thyroid and
arytenoids cartilages, which are in turn connected to muscle tissue, they can
be stretched out by tensile adjustment in the laryngeal musculature making
them longer, thinner and more tense. When this happens, like all elastic
objects which are tightened, they vibrate at a higher frequency which
produces a higher sound or pitch. Conversely, an alternative adjustment of
the laryngeal musculature causes the vocal folds to slacken, so that they
become shorter, thicker and more lax. When this happens, like all elastic
objects which are relaxed, they vibrate at a lower frequency and the
consequent sound of the voice deepens in pitch.
In establishing a component system of intuitive vocal analysis, the first
physiologically generated component of perceivable acoustic sound which
we can identify as being present in a person’s voice is therefore the pitch, also
referred to as the note or the tone.
Component Two: Pitch fluctuation

The pitch ofthe voice sustains more or less constancy or fluctuation in a
given time. This is determined by the shifting frequencies of vocal cord
vibration.
During vibration, the vocal cords may not remain absolutely constant
in their
speed of vibration over a given time and consequently they may produc
e a
pitch fluctuation.
There are two components to this pitch fluctuation: interval distanc
e and
time. Interval distance is the magnitude of the pitch fluctuation.
For example,
a voice which fluctuates from a vibrational frequency of 440 to
450 times per
second makes a pitch fluctuation across a tiny interval from
the A above
middle C on a piano to a sound not even high enough to sound
the A-sharp
THE VOICE MOVEMENT THERAPY SYSTEM OF VOCAL ANALYSIS 131
above it. A voice meanwhile which fluctuates from 440 to 493 times per
second makes a pitch fluctuation across a large interval equivalent to going
from the A above middle C on the piano to the B above it. The term ‘interval’
thereby denotes the magnitude of the frequency jump between two specific
notes or pitches.
The next factor, time, is the speed with which the fluctuations are made. A
very slow alternation between 440 times per second, which is the A above
middle C on the piano, and 450 times per second, which does not have a note
on the piano, may well sound ‘out of tune’ to a listener. But if the same
inconsistency is quickened it may sound like a very professional singing
voice. Indeed, very fast fluctuations in vocal cord vibration over a very small
pitch interval constitutes what is known as vibrato, that deliberate flutter
which is heard in the classical European voice. If a singer produces such pitch
fluctuations too slowly, or takes them across too great a pitch interval, the
skill of the vibrato turns into what we hear as untuneful singing.
The second vocal component parameter which we can identify within the
human voice then is pitch fluctuation which under certain conditions would
be referred to as vibrato and under others may be called inconsistency or
untunefulness. However, what is heard as pleasant and unpleasant, as an
acceptable interval and an unacceptable interval, is culturally determined.
Component Three: Loudness

The human voice is perceived on a spectrum of loudness from quiet
through moderate to loud. Loudness is determined by how hard the two
vocal cords contact each other during vibration which is in turn
primarily determined by the pressure ofbreath released from the lungs.
vocal folds
Increased pressure of breath expelled from the lungs draws the
with higher
together with a greater force causing them to hit each other
togethe r with less
impact. Decreased air pressure, meanwhile, draws the folds
impact. We witness this
force, causing them to hit each other with low
s flap together
concept when watching or listening to a pair of drawn curtain
s increases
during a high wind. As the pressure of the wind against the curtain
a louder sound.
so they flap together with greater impact, giving off
another more gently,
Conversely, as the wind dies down, the curtains hit one
making the sound softer.
To increase the air pressure and therefore the loudness, we increase the
contractile power of the muscles around the torso. To decrease pressure and
loudness we ease off the muscular contraction.
The third vocal component which we can identify in a human voice then
is loudness which results from increased air pressure.
Component Four: Glottal attack

The voice is perceived as having greater or lesser attack, determined by
the impact under which the vocal folds come together during phonation.
Unlike curtains, the vocal cords are not only reliant upon the wind from the
lungs for their movement as they are connected to muscles which are fed by
nerves. It is therefore possible to vary the impact of vocal cord contact
without major changes in air pressure, increasing and decreasing vocal cord
impact, creating sounds with varying degrees of glottal attack whilst
maintaining a constant loudness.
The fourth component parameter of vocal sound which we can identify is
therefore glottal attack, determined by the impact of vocal fold contact.
Component Five: Free air

The quality of the voice is perceived as being more or less breathy or airy,
perceived on a spectrum from none through moderate to high and
determined by the volume or quantity ofair flowing through the glottis.
Although the vocal cords are opening and closing very quickly, they may not
push tightly together when they close. If the vocal cords are closed, but are
not kept pushed together tightly, then even during their closed phase, air can
pass through the folds in the form of a trickle or a seepage. When this
happens the voice has a certain breathiness which is described as a voice rich
in free air. A voice may also be rich in free air if the glottis is enlarged during
vocal cord vibration.
The fifth component of the voice is therefore free air which is perceived
on a spectrum from little through moderate to high.
Component Six: Disruption

The human voice may or may not be to some degree disrupted, that is
broken or sporadically interrupted in a way which appears to interfere
with the continuity ofthe tone. This can be caused by friction or uneven
contact between the vocal folds, by other tissue structures coming into
contact with the vocal cords during vibration or by intermittent silence
breaking up the tone.
We have so far assumed that during vocalisation the vocal folds are drawn
together so as to meet flush and smooth along their vibrating edge,
preventing air from escaping other than during their rhythmic opening, and
thereby producing a clear tone. However, under certain circumstances, not
only may the vocal folds not meet under enough pressure to prevent air
escaping, but the vocal folds may crash together unevenly, their edges being
corrugated and uneven, rubbing against each other and producing a sound
which sounds broken, frictional, rough and discontinuous. These broken
sounds are referred to as disrupted.
At other times, such as during laryngitis or influenza or when the vocal
cords are damaged, the vocal tone may be intermittently broken with
into
silences. In addition, other tissue structures in the larynx may come
contact with the vocal cords during vocalisation, interrupting the tone.
The sixth vocal component parameter which we can identify within the
human voice is therefore disruption.
Component Seven: Register

, either
The voice is produced with what is perceived as a certain register
perceived as
modal, falsetto, whistle or vocal fry. The voice can also be
and falsetto .
being composed ofa blended combination of modal
one note at a time
If a person begins to sing the lowest note possible and rises
to discern alterations in
up to the highest he or she can sing, it will be possible
has ‘changed voices’.
the timbre at certain points, as though the person
would be a shift of
Among the changes which a listener would observe
‘register’.
known as modal and
Most voices have two main registers in singing,
le changes between the
falsetto. The most familiar and easily recognisab
or a woman ascends upwards
modal and falsetto registers occurs when a man
at a certain point a
from a deep pitch towards higher ones during which
of modal and into falsetto.
‘register break’ occurs where the voice ‘breaks’ out
musicalised in the yodelling
It is this register break which is exaggerated and
classical European singing,
style of singing originating in Switzerland. In .
so that the break is not heard
singers learn to blend the two registers together
Scientific instrumentational investigation has not yet been able to explain

exactly what does cause the audible shifts in timbre which give rise to
particular registers. We do know, however, that the alterations in the size of
the glottis are instrumental in effecting change in what is known as voice
register.
Both modal and falsetto register can be produced on low and high
pitches, though the higher the voice in pitch the more natural and easier it is
to produce falsetto and the lower the pitch of the voice the more natural and
easier it is to produce modal. In addition, through precise control of the
laryngeal musculature, a vocal sound can be produced which blends together
the two registers into a single quality.
If the vocal folds remain closed along the majority of their length so that
only a minimal portion is vibrating, making a tiny glottis, the voice quality
produced is like a piercing scream and is known as the whistle register.
Because this requires extreme tension in the vocal folds, the pitch of the
whistle register is always very high. If, in contradistinction, the vocal folds
are very lax and their entire length is vibrating then the quality of voice often
produced is like a low, airy grumble known as the vocal fry register which,
due to the lack of tension in the folds, is always produced on low notes.
The seventh component to vocal sound which we can therefore identify is
vocal register, of which the two main ones are modal and falsetto with two
less frequently heard registers named whistle and vocal fry.
Component Eight: Violin

The human voice may be heard as possessing a spectral degree of nasal
resonance from none through moderate to high. When nasal resonance is
severely inhibited or blocked, the sound may metaphorically be
described as lacking in violin; when nasal resonance is full, the voice may
be described as possessing a high degree of violin.
Some of the sound wave created by the vibrating vocal cords may pass
through the nasal passage which runs from the oro-pharynx up above the
roof of the mouth and out through the nose, and the amount of air which
passes through this tract influences the vocal quality. The passage of air
through the nasal tube can be controlled by the raising and lowering of the
soft palate which closes and opens the port of entry to the nasal tract. At one
extreme, the movement of air through this passage can be completely
prevented and at the other, the maximum amount of air capable of passing
through this port can travel through the nasa! passages and out ofthe nose.
Between these two extremes, an entire spectrum ofnasal air flow is possible.
When the soft palate is lowered, allowing maximum nasal resonance, the
voice is described as possessing a lot of violin. When the soft palate is closed
so that nasal resonance is inhibited, the voice is described as lacking in violin.
The eighth vocal component of the human voice which we can identify is
therefore the degree of nasal resonance which is given the instrumental and
metaphorical name of violin and perceived on a spectrum from none through
moderate to high.
Component Nine: Harmonic resonance — Flute, Clarinet, Saxophone

Harmonic timbre is the particular quality of the voice determined by the
shape and dimensions of the vocal tract or voice tube. Harmonic timbre
may be arbitrarily divided into three qualities arising from a short narrow
tract, a medium length and diameter tract and a fully lengthened and
dilated tract. These are given the names ‘Flute’, ‘Clarinet’ and
‘Saxophone’ respectively.
The vocal tract which runs upwards from the larynx, becomes the pharynx,
turns into the oro-pharynx and curls round to become the mouth is capable
of altering its size and shape. And it is the shape and movement ofthis tube
which governs so much of the specific quality of a voice which we hear,
regardless of the degree and combination ofthe eight component parameters
hitherto identified.
To understand how the movement and configuration ofthis tube affects
vocal quality it will be useful to imagine three crude tubes, closed at the
bottom but open at the top, all made of exactly the same substance but
constructed to different diameters and different lengths. The first is short and
narrow; the second is relatively longer and wider; and the third is much
longer and more dilated again. Imagine that we hold a tuning fork which
produces middle C over the top of each tube in turn and listen to the sound of
the note echoing or resonating inside the tubes. In moving from listening to
the sound inside the first tube to the same note echoing or resonating in the
second and then the third, the listener would hear a change of timbre.
the second
Probably, the first tube would sound more comparable to a flute,
the sound
tube would sound more comparable to the clarinet, whilst
they
produced by the third tube would sound more akin to the saxophone;
would all however sound the note C.
With regard to voice production, both the length and the diameter ofthe
voice tube or vocal tract can alter, producing a variety of timbres, yet the pitch
can be held constant by an unchanging frequency of vocal cord vibration. So,
imagine that instead of a tuning fork at the top of three crude tubes, you have
vibrating vocal cords at the bottom of one tube which can change its length
and diameter to assume the relative dimensions of all three tubes. This gives
some idea of how different timbres are created by the vocal instrument.
The vocal tract which runs downwards from the lips to the larynx is an
elastic tube which can assume various lengths and diameters.
In place of the three crude tubes, we can now therefore pinpoint three
arbitrary degrees of dilation and lengthening along the path of the vocal
tract. The first compares to aflute-like tube, whereby the larynx is high in the
neck and the tract is quite constricted creating a short, narrow tube, such as
when we blow a kiss or whistle. The second configuration, which compares
to the clarinet-like tube, is characterised by a lower position of the larynx in
the neck creating a longer tube which is more dilated, such as when we steam
up a pair of glasses. The third configuration, which compares to the
saxophone-like tube, is characterised by a complete descent of the larynx in
the neck, creating a long tube with maximum dilation, such as when we
yawn.
If the vibratory frequency of the vocal cords is maintained at a constant,
Say at 256 times per second, producing middle C, whilst the vocal tract
moves from Flute Configuration through Clarinet Configuration to
Saxophone Configuration, the effect will be to sing the same note with three
very distinct timbres, comparable to that achieved when playing the note C
ona tuning fork held above the three separate crude tubes imagined earlier.
In Voice Movement Therapy, we give the vocal timbre produced by a
short narrow voice tube the instrumental name Flute Timbre; we name the
vocal timbre produced by a medium length and diameter tube Clarinet
Timbre; and we call the vocal timbre produced by a fully lengthened and
dilated voice tube Saxophone Timbre.
Component Ten: Articulation

The human voice may be perceived as producing sounds which appear
close to a sound usable within the spoken language ofa particular culture
and which are produced by the shapes ofthe vocal tract in combination
with the movements of tongue and lips.
THE VOICE MOVEMENT THERAPY SYSTEM OF VOCAL ANALYSIS Ie
It is the harmonic embellishment of a pitch caused by changing dimensions

of the vocal tract which gives rise to specific timbres which we call vowels
and which are born from very specific shapes of the vocal tract.
In addition, the air flow from the larynx may be momentarily stopped.
Sometimes the air is stopped at the back of the mouth, such as when we say
‘k’. Other consonants are produced by interrupting the air flow at the lips,
such as ‘p’ or ‘b’. Some articulate sounds are used in one language but not in
another. For example, ‘ach’ is used in German and Arabic but not in English.
The tenth and last vocal component or parameter is therefore articulation,
composed of vowels and consonants.
The System of Ten Vocal Components

From a simple understanding of vocal physiology it is therefore possible to
deduce ten elements which combine to form the sound of the human voice.
When listening to a person vocalising, whether in song, or in speech,
whether in a therapeutic or a creative context, a practitioner can be trained to
listen to the voice in terms of these components which provide the basis for
interpretation, analysis and training. These components of vocal expression
form the core of a system of Voicework which is both an analytic profile for
interpreting voices, a psychotherapeutic means by which to investigate the
way psychological material is communicated through specific vocal qualities,
a training system for developing the expressiveness of voices and a
physiotherapeutic means by which to release the voice from functional
misuse.
a
I have presented extensive recordings of the ten vocal components with
detailed explanation of the Voice Movement Therapy System of Vocal
on
Analysis on a set of audio tapes, The Singing Cure: Liberating Self Expressi
Through Voice Movement Therapy (Newham 1998).
To recap, here are the ten components:
Component One: Pitch

or fundamental
Each vocal sound is perceived to have a certain pitch, note
This is perceived
tone, determined by the frequency of vocal cord vibration.
within the metaphor ofhigh to low, though in fact it does not relate to spatial
dimensions but to speed ofvibration in time.
Component Two: Pitch fluctuation

The pitch of the voice sustains more or less constancy or fluctuation in a
given time. This is determined by the shifting frequencies of vocal cord
vibration.
Component Three: Loudness

The human voice is perceived on a spectrum of loudness from quiet through
moderate to loud. Loudness is determined by how hard the two vocal cords
contact each other during vibration which is in turn primarily determined by
the pressure of breath released from the lungs.
Component Four: Glottal attack

The voice is perceived as having greater or lesser attack, determined by the
impact under which the vocal folds come together during phonation.
Component Five: Free air

The quality of the voice is perceived as being more or less breathy or airy,
perceived on a spectrum from none through moderate to high and
determined by the volume or quantity of air flowing through the glottis.
Component Six: Disruption

The human voice may or may not be to some degree disrupted, that is broken
or sporadically interrupted in a way which appears to interfere with the
continuity of the tone. This can be caused by friction or uneven contact
between the vocal folds, by other tissue structures coming into contact with
the vocal cords during vibration or by intermittent silence breaking up the
tone.
Component Seven: Register

The voice is produced with what is perceived as a certain register, either
modal, falsetto, whistle or vocal fry. The voice can also be perceived as being
composed of a blended combination of modal and falsetto.
Component Eight: Violin

The human voice may be heard as possessing a spectral degree of nasal
resonance from none through moderate to high. When nasal resonance is
severely inhibited or blocked, the sound may metaphorically be described as

lacking in violin; when nasal resonance is full, the voice may be described as
possessing a high degree ofviolin
Component Nine: Harmonic resonance — Flute, Clarinet, Saxophone

Harmonic timbre is the particular quality of the voice determined by the
shape and dimensions of the vocal tract or voice tube. Harmonic timbre may
be arbitrarily divided into three qualities arising from a short narrow tract, a
medium length and diameter tract and a fully lengthened and dilated tract.
These are given the names ‘Flute’, ‘Clarinet’ and ‘Saxophone’ respectively.
Component Ten: Articulation

The human voice may be perceived as producing sounds which appear close
to a sound usable within the spoken language of a particular culture and
which are produced by the shapes of the vocal tract in combination with the
movements of tongue and lips.
APPENDIX 2
Further Information
For further information including a list of qualified Voice Movement

Therapy practitioners, a full prospectus of trainings and courses and a
complete list of currently available resources including the accompanying
video and set of audio tapes, please contact:
The Administrator
Voice Movement Therapy
PO Box 4218
London
SE2Z/0JE
Tel: (+44) (0) 181 693 9502
Fax: (+44) (0) 181 299 6127
Email: info@voicework.com
Information can also be accessed on the Voice Movement Therapy web site:
www.voicework.com
140
References
Freud, S. (1953-74) Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of

Sigmund Freud, Volume 2, edited by James Strachey in collaboration with
Anna Freud, assisted by Alix Strachey and Alan Tyson. London: Hogarth
Press and the Institute of Psychoanalysis.
Newham, P. (1997a) Shouting for Jericho: The Work of Paul Newham on the
Human Voice. Video. London: Tigers Eye/Class Productions.
Newham, P. (1997b) Therapeutic Voicework: Principles and Practice for the Use of
Singing as a Therapy. London: Jessica Kingsley Publishers.
Newham. P. (1998) The Singing Cure: Liberating SelfExpression Through Voice
Movement Therapy. Audio cassettes. Boulder: Sounds True.
l
Newham, P. (1999) Using Voice and Movement in Therapy: The Practica
London: Jessica Kingsle y
Application of Voice Movement Therapy.
Publishers.
141
Cicero 44 Fredy Ss 22723729, 47,
Index clarinet configuration, and 43, 56-9
harmonic timbre 87,
Garcia, Manuel 54-5
accidents 34-5, 37, 63-4, 89, 90
Garfield-Davies, D. 9
70, 110-12 component voice analysis
glottal attack 138
Apollo 44 64
and system of vocal
Aristotle 42, 43 creative writing 17
analysis 131-2
articulation 139
da Vinci, Leonardo 54 glottis 74, 75
ingredient of voice 97-8
de’ Bardi, Giovanni 52 Greece
developing 98
Diploma in Voice early opera 52
psychological aspects
Movement Therapy 10 origins of operatic
98
disruption 138 vocalisation 42—5
and system of vocal
ingredient of voice 96-7 Gregorian chant 46
analysis 136
developing 97 and harmonic timbre 89
artistic distance 108
psychological aspects Guido of Arezzo 51-2
attack
96-7
ingredient of voice 94-6 harmonic resonance 138
and system of vocal
developing 95-6 and system of vocal
analysis 132-3
psychological aspects analysis 135-6
and vocal folds 132-3
95 Hippocrates 45
autobiography, in therapy Echo and Narcissus (myth) harmonic timbre
32-5 24 ingredient of voice
emotion 85-91
ballads 60
and singing 105 developing 90-91
bards 47
and voice 105-7 psychological aspects
Bel Canto 53-5
energy, and song, voice and 88-90
Bluebeard 27
chant 50-51 hysteria 22—3
brain, and music 66—8
ENT 14 hysterics, and Freud 56-8
breath 75-6
Europe, early music 51—2
breathiness, of voice see free incongruence 65
air fairy tales, in therapy International Association
Breuer, Josef23 29-30, 37-41 for Voice Movement
Buddhism 49 falsetto 83, 84 Therapy 11
Ferrein, Antoine 54 Italy, early opera 52-3
Cagniard de la Tour,
flute configuration, and
Charles 27-8 journey song, in therapy
harmonic timbre 87,
Camerata 52-3 61—4, 68-70
88-9, 90
case studies 34—5, 36-7,
free air 111-12, 138 larynx 9, 54, 73-4
38-40, 62-4, 65-6,
ingredient of voice 93-4 The Little Mermaid 25-7
69-70, 110-28
developing 94 London, Julie 93
catharsis 43
psychological aspects loudness 137
cathartic paradigm 106-7
93-4 ingredient of voice 73-7
cathartic therapy 107-9
and system of vocal developing 77
chakras 50
analysis 132 psychological aspects
chanting 49-50
and vocal cords 132 76-7
Charcot, Jean Martin 22-3
142
INDEX 143
and system ofvocal Plato 42 Sirens (in Greek

analysis 131 prosody 65, 68-9 mythology) 28-9
psychoanalysis 56 The Song ofthe Siren
meditation 49, 50
psychotherapy 55-6 27-9
modal voice 84
Pythagoras 44 songs, in therapy 17
music, and the brain 66-8
speech 65
register 138
Narcissus 24 defined 64
ingredient of voice 82-5
nasality speech therapy 14
developing 85
ingredient of voice 91-3 Studies in Hysteria 23
psychological aspects
developing 92-3 system of ten vocal
84-5
psychological aspects components 137-9
and system ofvocal
a2
analysis 133-4 talking cure, and Freud
see also violin
register break 83-4 56-9
Newham, Paul 9, 10, 12,
relationships, and voice Therapeutic Voicework:
13, 54, 65, 90, 98,
23-4 Principles and Practice for
123, 137
Romans, music and drama the Use of Singing as a
note see pitch Therapy 10, 12, 13, 54,
45-6
Odysseus 28 64
Salpétriére Clinic, Paris 22
opera therapy, and the story of
saxophone configuration,
in ancient Greece 42—5 Orpheus 22-4
and harmonic timbre
origin 52-4 time, in therapy 31-2
87, 89, 90-91
and register 83 tonic scale 51-2
Self 11, 17, 19, 109
Orpheus in the trauma 105
self-identity, and voice
Underworld 20-24, 44 troubadours 46—7
103-5
Peri, Jacopo 53 sexual abuse 34, 36-7, Using Voice and Movement in
Perrault, Charles 27 38-40, 62-3, 69, Therapy: The Practical
personality, origin of term 123-6, 126-8 Application of Voice
42 shamanism 47-9 Movement Therapy 17,
pitch 137 Shouting forJericho: The 54, 90
ingredient of voice Work of Paul Newham on Using Voice and Song in
77-81 the Human Voice (video) Therapy: The Practical
developing 80-81 9,54 Application of Voice
psychological aspects singing 60-61, 70-71 Movement Therapy 12,
79-80 and emotion 105 17
and system ofvocal in therapy 7-9 Using Voice and Theatre: The
analvsis 129-30 The Singing Cure: Liberating Practical Application of
and vocal cords 129-30 Self Expression Through Voice Movment Therapy
pitch fluctuation 137 Voice Movement Therapy 17,2128,
ingredient of voice 81-2 (audio course) 10, 64, violin 138
developing 82 98, 137 and system ofvocal
psychological aspects singing cure, development analysis 134
81-2 55-9 see also nasality
and system ofvocal sirens 27-8 vocal cords 73-6
analysis 130-31
and attack 94 nasality 91-3 voice tube 85—7

and disruption 96 developing 92—3 Voicework 13, 15, 16—17
and free air 93, 132 psychological aspects weeping 112-14, 117-19
and harmonic timbre 85, 92 women, and voice 23, 24,
87-8 pitch 77-81
26-7
and pitch 77-9, 129-30 developing 80-81
and pitch fluctuation psychological aspects yoga 50
130-31 79-80
vocal folds pitch fluctuation 81-2
discovery 54-5 developing 82
and disruption 132-3 psychological aspects
and pitch fluctuation 81 81-2
vocal healing 47—9 register 82—5
vocal sound, interpretation developing 85
9-10 psychological aspects
voice 13, 65 84-5
defined 64 loss of 19, 22
and emotion 105-7 and relationships 23—4
ingredients 72—102, and self-identity 103-5
98-9 and women 23, 24, 26—7
articulation 97-8 Voice Movement Therapy
developing 98 9-13, 15-16, 64, 68,
psychological aspects 72-99
98 analysis of voice
attack 94-6 production 99-102
developing 95-6 and autobiography 33-5
psychological aspects physiological dimension
35 i
disruption 96—7 system ofvocal analysis
developing 96-7 129-36
psychological aspects articulation 136
96-7 disruption 132-3
free air 93-4 free air 132
developing 94 glottal attack 131-2
psychological aspects harmonic resonance
93-4 135-6
harmonic timbre loudness 131
85-91 pitch 129-30
developing 90-91 pitch fluctuation
psychological aspects 130-31
88-90 register 133-4
loudness 73-7 violin 134
developing 77 techniques 17
psychological aspects training 10-11
76-7 voice therapy 14, 15
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Printed in the United States

113435LV00002B/43/A
Using Voice and Song in Therapy is a practical and imaginative guide to the
way in which singing and the expressive use of the voice can facilitate therapy.
Paul Newham examines how melody creation, combined with story-telling
in song, can alleviate certain emotional, psychosomatic and psychological
symptoms. He describes how the sounds made by the human voice can be
shaped compositionally to form songs which reveal and express the self. His
book provides practical support for non-clinical professionals working as
group leaders and facilitators, who are interested in incorporating singing
and vocal expression in their working method. He covers such themes as:
¢ the use of myth and archetype in narrative
¢ the history of the use of song in human interaction
¢ making personal biography into fiction in melody.
The author draws on his own professional experience to describe therapeutic
techniques and exercises which he has found to be effective, illustrating these
with case studies. In particular, he focuses on the benefits of voicework for
people with disabilities, and for children with special educational needs.
‘provides a wealth of interesting concepts, structured theoretical frameworks

for considering movement and voicework, detailed descriptions of practical
exercises and techniques and clear case studies... Newham...is a sincere and
enormously able practitioner who has a unique ability to connect deeply
linked aspects of personality and voice...His books are of value to therapists
already interested in the emotional release aspects of voice work with clients,
and those beginning to investigate the whole field of psychotherapeutic
literature’ .
— Bulletin: Journal of the Royal College of Speech and Language Therapies
‘The challenge of transforming acoustic phenomena into language is an

overwhelming one. To my mind Newham has managed to transform his
experiences in a way that sparks curiosity.’
— The Nordic Journal of Music Therapy
f
Paul Newham is a voice and movement therapist and voice therapy trainer. He is the
Founding Director of the International Association for Voice Movement Therapy and was
formerly a drama school lecturer and director of a repertory theatre.
Ape ISBN 1-85302-590-9

:
Jessica Kingsley Publishers we

116Pentonville Road pee cae ie
London N1 9JB, UK an ae aoe. Te
400 Market Street, Suite400 ‘
Philadelphia,
PA19106, USA kote |
| |
ee, 2781859 025907 -p8?
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COUR

3 0510 02138 8378

Using Voice and Movement in Therapy

Using Voice and Theatre in Therapy

Community Music Therapy

Music for Life

Multimodal Psychiatric Music Therapy for Adults,

Jessica Kingsley Publishers

Copyright © Paul Newham 1999

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

ISBN-13: 978 1 85302 5907

INTRODUCTION: VOICE MOVEMENT THERAPY —

1 Tales, Myths and Legends

From Biography to Fairy Tale

Priests, Bards and Shamans ‘

From Fairy Tale to Song

The Ingredients of Voice

Journeys Through Song

APPENDIX 1: THE VOICE MOVEMENT THERAPY SYSTEM OF VOCAL ANALYSIS Ae

Voice Movement Therapy —

In order to understand in more detail the physiological process of

components which emanate from physiological functioning, which provide

The professional training course in Voice Movement Therapy provides a

Augsburg Vollege wivialy

‘voice therapy’. There are also many artistic practitioners, some of

and infertile environmental influences. In addition, Voice Movement

which constitute Voice Movement Therapy require practical training to

Tales, Myths and Legends

On Therapy, Loss and Refinding Your Self

personal and idiosynciatic details of their particular silences and inhibitions.

Orpheus in the Underworld

The Foolishness of Looking

Orpheus discovered, capable of calming and placating monsters. And of

The Echoes of Therapy

lecture theatres, encouraging them to perform attitudes passionelles. a physical

Echo and Narcissus

woman to be modest oftongue. Such a sacrifice is immortalised in the fairy

The Little Mermaid -

The Song of the Siren

Reclaiming the Voice

which transforms the burden of individual experience into the elevation of

From Biography to Fairy Tale

Past, Present and Future

disconnected often radiate a numinous relationship; and connections

The Therapeutic Art of Autobiography

Practical Method: The Autobiography

deal with the consequences of having survived an aeroplane accident in

Client’s Autobiography: Vicky

Client’s Autobiography: Richard

The Ancient Story Circle

This therapeutic process is rooted in an age-old tradition of a story circle

Client’s Account: Vicky

incessantly and I never know how to finish or when to finish — as though

Client’s Account: Richard

The Therapeutic Art of the Fairy Tale

sisters become princesses, houses become castles and the remembered

Practical Method: The Fairy Tale

Client’s Fairy Tale: Vicky

Client’s Fairy Tale: Richard