What, then, is our little trinity that makes the balance point “triune?” It’s made up of what we could call The Three R’s: “Registration,” “Resonance,” and “Respiration.” In learning to sing, or in teaching singing, we are obliged to emphasize one or the other in an ongoing, shifting rotation. But inconveniently, the R’s are entangled with one another. We cannot make even a slight change in one without affecting the other two as we work toward our desired poise, and for that matter, even the systems that together account for these functions cannot be detached from the entire mind-body reality of the given learner. Furthermore, we aren’t so fortunate as to have the functions out in plain sight. Although there are certainly visual clues to be detected, the processes are for the most part internal, with only aspects of them (and not the most important ones, at that) subject to direct, voluntary control. In a moment, I’ll try to define, in functional terms, what is meant by each of the three R’s, and show a bit of how each affects the other two, since the balancing of one is inseparable from the balancing of all. First, a quick note on the basic question of how muscles initiate movement, since sung (or spoken) tone is a byproduct of such movement.

Bodily movement happens when a muscle contracts and the contraction draws with it whatever the muscle is attached to. Some movement is reflexive, an unguarded response to a stimulus. We can train ourselves to a degree of control over such movements (suppressing a cough, for instance), provided we learn to anticipate them, but in general we don’t think of this as a controlled category of movement. Many other movements are controlled, but at a subliminal level that comes to our attention only when they aren’t quite carrying out their habitual assignments—postural adjustments are an example. In singing, we seek to bring extensive co-ordinations of movements, including some that are normally left under subconscious guidance, under deliberate management, training many of them to become so habitual that we can focus most of our attention on specific aesthetic goals, as would a dancer, or for that matter an athlete, whose primary intention may not be aesthetic but whose good “form” reflects, and even helps to induce, the efficiency of his or her actions.

Management of movement is exerted through the co-operation of paired antagonisms. To simplistically illustrate: visualize a single upright bone, to which muscle A is attached on the left, its paired muscle B on the right. Muscle A contracts to draw the bone to the left. Muscle B tenses against it (also a contraction, but of a holding, not active, sort), to control the range and durance of the movement. Without muscle B’s resistance, the movement would fly out of control. With an active opposition, the two pulling against each other, an injury would occur. It is through the interplay of A and B that flexions, extensions, and changes of direction can be directed to whatever role this pairing is being asked to play in a given action. (Imagine leaning to one side on the teeter-totter, or extending one foot out while the other leg either extends equally to counterbalance, or stays in place but tenses against the move.) So a good balance of strength between muscles A and B is required, as is an elasticity in both that allows for the greatest possible range of governed motion. A balanced, elastic strength is what we’re looking for throughout the co-ordinations involved in singing.