And in this hall that seats somewhere around 250, where their singing voices in ensemble, though gently heady and light, had carried sufficiently, only one of these announcements (of twelve, if memory serves) was easily audible. Either they could be deciphered only with fierce, forward-leaning attention, or, in a couple of cases, they could not. The speakers, faced with a space instead of a mike, seemed oblivious to the necessity of energizing their voices to even this modest public-speaking level, and evidently no faculty person—no English teacher, debating coach, or drama club advisor—had ever exhorted them with anything so rude as “Speak up.”

I have already discussed aspects of the microphone’s influence on vocal usages in previous posts—see, especially, “Before the First Lesson” Nos. 2 (Dec. 22, 2017), 3 (Mar. 23, 2018), and 4 (June 8, 2018).  And I’m well aware that it’s tricky to try to isolate that influence from other ones. In Opera as Opera, for instance, I devote considerable attention to the transition from older rhetorical styles of spoken persuasion (from the rostrum, the pulpit, and above all the stage) to the more modulated, conversational ones we find more “natural”—a transition that was well underway before the advent of the mike. Obviously, such a transition begins with a shift in social norms. Changes in the ways people try to relate and persuade in everyday life are soon reflected in what’s deemed believable onstage. But then, the new kind of persuasiveness heard and seen onstage sets, in turn, a new social norm. Or: as I was reminded two weeks ago by Marc Scorca in the conversation segment of my presentation at Opera America, we’ve seen in recent decades (and in mad acceleration now) notable changes in accepted norms of behavior between the sexes, and “behavior” assuredly includes vocal expression. Male aggressiveness, or even assertiveness, and female response that’s either acquiescent or teasing, are not at all in fashion; perhaps that figured in the a cappella boys’ timidity.

So, in short, it’s complicated. Nevertheless, today I’d like to speak of one factor in isolation, and that is the subjective experience of the singer (or speaker) in energizing the voice with and without amplification. You may have wondered about the term “microphone eye” in the title of this post. But in a couple of important ways, voice activation begins with the eye. The singer enters a space—a teacher or coach’s studio, an audition or recital hall or room substituting therefor (a living room with stuffed furniture and drapes; a dance studio with bare floor and mirrors), a large concert hall or opera house mainstage—and, through the sensory haze of whatever state of preparation and nerves he or she is in, whether with sharp immediate assessment or vague subliminal leakage, and over and above other phenomena present (mainly, people), forms an impression of the acoustical situation. It may turn out to be false, and the practiced vocalist will have learned to disregard it as best he or she can. Nonetheless, it’s there, and the process of mobilizing the body for vocalization, already underway in the mind’s eye and ear, has been affected by it. ^(I)