After attempting to resurrect my ancient Studio blog on WordPress and managing to lose the entire thing several hours later (sigh), I recalled I had established this even more ancient Blogger blog over a decade ago. The main photo is of me in my current 2025 teaching digs in Huntington Beach.

I've been settling in amid some remodeling and such for many months and teaching mainly on Zoom. As I've been regrouping, I've also been rethinking my teaching practices. I've decided to return to teaching the way I teach best and not trying to be all things to all students. This means that those who might opt to study with me may be an even more select group than they have been in the past. By that I mean the students will be selecting themselves "in." Those who want what I have to offer will be the Studio "elite," if you will. This will be their designation, and not mine.

So, what do I mean "teaching the way I teach best?" Some back story is required. Back in the 1960s and 1970s, before social media and the Internet, before Star Search and America's Got Talent (I feel my English teachers rolling about in their graves. How about America Has Talent?), before popular music and the Rock stars so absorbed everyone's consciousness, when vocal music education was more concerned with education than stardom, when times were possibly more innocent, a certain young lady who found her natural voice found the favor of her teachers and others who thought she might do well in voice lessons. This was me.

At 15 my high school choir director introduced me to my first voice teacher. Lessons involved vocal exercises, the Vaccai method book, Italian Art Songs, arias, and musical theatre selections. This was traditional training. And I ate it up. When I asked that teacher if she thought I would become a professional opera singer, she told me she thought I might, instead, become a teacher. I was actually a bit disheartened by her comments. But, on second thought, I decided teaching in a college setting might be especially nice. I did manage to sing as a professional chorister with two opera companies years later and snag some recording work and a year as a section leader/soloist with the Crystal Cathedral Hour of Power Choir, among other professional jobs.

Over several decades I studied with more than ten voice teachers, coaches, and repetiteurs. As I learned, I collected vast stores of teaching techniques and valuable information - all in the classical or traditional vein.

I officially began leading choirs and teaching in 1973 with a California Standard Designated Subjects credential to my credit. It was a nice entry into teaching.

As we entered the mid-1980s and 1990s, however, I started noticing significant changes in the way students took to my teaching. Rather than finding their natural voices as a basis for their singing, students defaulted to more cosmetic, unnatural, and forced techniques that I assume they presumed were the sounds their favorite artists were making. They were less satisfied with lessons because they were working against themselves and the training. And the quest for fame and fortune, in some cases, caused them to be anxious and interested in quick fixes and immediate improvement or solutions to vocal deficiencies. The techniques I had learned and honed over many years and the voice-building materials I had been employing were of less interest. Singers were more interested in becoming copies of the latest contemporary artists than they were in discovering their own unique voices and musical styles that complemented their personalities.

Into the first fifteen or so years of the 2000s, some of the younger singers studying with me still had an interest in music education. But most of the adults wanted lessons for after-work therapy, karaoke, or for other more recreational reasons. The "serious" business of developing technique through the practice of exercises and technical studies, singing voice-building repertoire, and finding a beautiful resonant tone had waned for the general public who take lessons. Only singers aiming for college degrees in Voice or professional operatic careers opted for the rigors of voice training. I also credit the decline in interest to busy lifestyles and a general lack of knowledge as to what traditional voice lessons are - were - all about.

So here I am. A traditional voice teacher looking for those rare individuals who want to explore singing the way it has been taught for generations. This is what I do and what I will continue to do in my new digs as much as possible, working with those who are so inclined. And, by the way, traditional training does provide a good foundation for any style of singing. Those cosmetic approaches are best added on when singers learn how to care for and manage their own unique, individual voices. That said, there is traditional training and there is traditional training. Steer clear of a desired studio sound akin to the sound of the wonderful 1980s dog trainer Barbara Woodhouse saying "Walkies!" or cooking expert Julia Child saying just about anything, and teachers who ask students to speak in an artificial voice.

Remembering Working with Natalie Limonick

The late Natalie Limonick was my mentor. She was a coach and a guide. She was artistry and musical intelligence incarnate. The day I first sang for her back in 1980-something, she wasted no time telling me what was deficient in my technique. But she gave me very specific solutions. Diplomatically, she commented that I was very musical. That could have meant something. Or it could have meant nothing. Naturally, my ego led me to believe it was a compliment. In the next breath, Ms. Limonick told me that my Italian was awful. Actually, it seems to me that she said something more like, “Your Italian stinks.” She went on to say that it was to be expected. I was a little taken aback. But I had to agree with her. After all, I’d had one semester of Italian in college. No singing, diction or language teacher had ever worked with me on the intricacies of pronunciation.

Way back when I was in high school, I had worked dutifully through most of Vaccai (memorizing and singing one every week or two, which is not the prescription for mastering the technique they contain) with my first teacher, and had studied Italian Art Songs and Arias with her and with several other teachers. No one had every corrected my pronunciation – closed /o/ or open, and so forth. And that was just the vowels.

Suddenly, under the tutelage of Ms. Limonick, the truth about my status as a singing musician was revealed to me. Funny thing about the truth. We usually already know our truth. It’s just more convenient to ignore it and push it deep into our psyche where it’s much less likely to surface and cause us to have to acknowledge painful reality. Of course my Italian pronunciation wasn’t my worst problem. I had been singing professionally with some success, even though I was experiencing vocal problems. Top notes were becoming problematic. There was more of a break than ever in my lower passaggio. I never really had a low range – except when I sang lower pop songs, which I sang in a way that didn’t allow me to bridge into my middle range with the same quality. My voice was difficult to operate. It didn’t feel smooth. Because I was still attempting to employ a technique I had learned along the way (and that helped me to win a contest), I frequently lost my voice and wouldn’t be able to sing for a day or two afterwards. I had read books on voice production, but I was never able to apply the information from the books to my own voice production. There was a disconnect somewhere.

Working with Ms. Limonick everything that I had read suddenly made perfect sense. In short order, I learned that my concept of how to produce a free, supported tone was way off-base. My idea of what a good tone should sound like was way off. My breath and my voice weren’t even connected. Ms. Limonick introduced me to subtleties of singing that were never even hinted at by previous teachers and coaches. And, most important, she showed me how to make the appropriate changes.

One story I tell my students is my experience with learning the free, focused tone from Ms. Limonick after more than 15 years of singing and lessons with other teachers who never taught it. Ms. Limonick helped me make a few mechanical face, tongue and jaw adjustments, and she taught me a more settled breathing technique. The tone that resulted was so different. It hummed. It felt like it was completely out of my control. It didn’t even seem to be coming from my mouth at times. It was so flexible, I felt like my voice was on autopilot. This new way of producing the voice connected the voice, top to bottom. I found additional notes on both ends of my range. I took my new sound home and practiced it at least twice a day. I didn’t want to lose it! The next week, I went to my lesson ready to show off my new sound. So I thought.

“No,” Ms. Limonick said. Apparently I had lost the right sound somewhere along the way. She helped me re-establish the sound. Oh! Of course! What a huge difference! I went home and practiced. Back to my lesson. “No,” she said. We found it again, and I trotted back home to try to make it stick. This happened at least three times before I was able to produce the sound on a regular basis. When I finally could do it, I managed to do it only on an A-flat in the middle of my range. Gradually, I transferred the technique up and down by half-steps. Even after I could recognize the difference, if I didn’t practice regularly, the sound again would escape me.

Most of the singers and teachers I’ve known who had experiences with Ms. Limonick seem not to have been completely fond of her. One teacher said that she wouldn’t trust a teacher who treated singers the way Ms. Limonick had. (This was in reference to my telling the teacher of my experience with Ms. Limonick critiquing my Italian pronunciation.) I feel just the opposite way. I wouldn’t trust a teacher who would let me believe all is well, when it isn’t. These days, teachers are expected to say several good things for every one comment that might be construed as critical. It’s a formula that’s used to humor and pacify people. But, in a private lesson, when a singer is expecting to be offered thoughtful, meaningful assistance in exchange for a fee, I think that a teacher downplaying technical issues and sidestepping the truth is terribly manipulative and more than a bit demeaning. What needs to be said, needs to be said. The flow might be more skewed toward criticism than praise, if the moment calls for it. But honest criticism always should take precedence over less than genuine praise, as long as the criticism is accompanied by suggestions, solutions, and some kind of helpful, well-intended input. Praise is great, too, when praise is appropriate. Ms. Limonick never put me down or made me feel that way.

If you want me to sing like a professional, be a professional and treat me like a professional. It’s called respect.

I worked with Ms. Limonick some 25 years ago. I’ve worked with teachers and coaches since then. But none of them has come anywhere close to being as musical, knowledgeable and insightful as was Natalie Limonick.

In the film, Copying Beethoven, the composer rudely critiques the composition of his copyist, Anna Holtz. She is rightly offended, but she realizes how correct he is about her work. She meets his offensive behavior with a better composition. He acknowledges it is better, but tells her that she is copying his style of writing. If he had just left it at the comment that her work was improved, she might have gone on happily and, possibly, successfully copying the style of Beethoven, never going through the wonderful, miserable process of becoming her own artist – her own composer.

In one of her Juilliard master classes (pick any one of them for a similar story), Maria Callas told a young singer that she had no trill (an integral part of the aria), and that she had to find her trill. Callas said that she didn’t care how the girl found it, but that she would have to find it in order to sing the aria. Callas was right. But the trill the young singer was using could have been passed off as a trill. I’ve heard much less proficient and apparently professionally acceptable trilling in my lifetime. Other comments were equally cutting and true. Even the less than knowledgeable listener clearly would hear the difference in the depth and wisdom of Callas’ vocal examples, in comparison to the singing of the student. I would want to be offered awareness and given the option to upgrade my skills. I would rather aspire to a proper trill, an informed performance, precise diction, and the rest, than be patted on the head and told, “That’s nice.”

Written in memory of the great Natalie Limonick 1920 - 2007