Et incarnatus est

At a recent NCS rehearsal, the notion of "full-body singing" came up a number of times. It even came up in reference to some form of incarnatus.

I find the phrase et incarnatus est (from the latin creed) to be actively useful in thinking about music-making in general, and specifically singing.

Music at its best engages the complete being. Every aspect is pleasing to mind and body (if one insists on separating the two). The resolution of a minor second to a minor third isn't a theoretical notion, it's an actual physical sensation. Rhythm physically pulses within the body, and the dance of piece can only be joined through physicality; the particulars of syncopation and shape often pique intellectual interest, but the intellect cannot actively join the dance.

Keith Jarret wrote in some liner notes that the performer takes the stage "hoping to have a rendezvous with music" (or similar; I can't find the notes). It's always "out there", but we have no guarantee that we'll actually meet it. Yet, a singer can breathe it in and be the music incarnate.

As I noted here, for me, a relatively simple technique, consistently applied, helps me become fully engaged:

• Focus on breathing as far down within the abdomen as possible
• Imagine -- and feel -- the physical sensation of floating on a column of air.
• Sing as legato as possible...
• yet execute consonants as clearly as possible and as quickly as possible such that the vowel always arrives on time (rather than moments late).
• Per usual, lean into the word stresses and the dissonances. Relax the resolutions and weak syllables.

The material has to be amenable to this, of course. When the opportunity allows, I find that approaching things in this manner consistently heightens the musical experience and brings maximal enjoyment, which is the point of the entire endeavor. However, it also seems to brings out the best of my limited abilities, which is enjoyable in its own right. I feel like the music personified, for brief instants: the navigation of the consonants and vowels requires that one join the rhythmic dance, and the emphasis of dissonances and word stresses adds another layer of rhythmic sensation as such things typically float above the underlying pulse, giving awareness of larger-scale rhythmic forms. Finally, with the breath fully applied in the support of these concerns, the entire abdomen is involved with the rhythm and it is inevitable that one feels more deeply engaged with the music. The music is literally entering your body and manifesting through you. Et incarnatus est indeed.

Here endeth the self-importance, until next time.