Anyone who has read blogs in this space or attended my workshops knows that I have in for the Kardashians. And Lindsay Lohan. Brittney Spears. Paris Hilton. Pretty much any celebrity who influences vocal patterns in a negative way. Public figures have long influenced speech; my mother always told me about her attempts to emulate the low tones of Lauren Bacall. And how many women – understandably wowed by Marilyn Monroe – took on her breathless, playful higher register? While tempting to model your speech on someone you admire, vocal authenticity is always the goal, and taking on anyone else’s cadence is a dangerous slope. I always urge clients of mine to tap into that natural voice that reveals itself in unguarded moments: speaking to your spouse, chatting with your pet, placing a coffee order. That “pitch” and that “tone” you speak when nobody’s listening. That’s what you need to tap into. Your vocal style is uniquely yours. It’s a mistake to “overlay” any else’s personality on yours. If you find yourself to be “inspired” by someone else’s vocal landscape, ask yourself some crucial questions: 1. Are they a good model for me? Even if they are a successful or influential person, their voice works for them , and it may not necessarily serve you by trying to imitate them, expecting the same results. Like taking a picture of a hairstyle you admire to your hairdresser, hoping they can emulate it; there may be reasons why that vocal “style” doesn’t “fit” you. 2. Choose a good model. There are so many strong, great speakers to choose from. Why Paris Hilton? Why not Taylor Swift, who speaks with a modern, adult, fully formed woman’s voice? Paris’ “baby doll” voice was a marketing strategy for her (listen to interviews with her when she’s just speaking in a comfortable register – it’s very different from her public persona.) Choose your influences very carefully and question whether or not they’re a good influence for you. 3. How about this? You be you. You’re unique. You’re you. I don’t think anyone needs to look outside of themselves to find the voice they should naturally and natively be speaking in. You already do it, in your unguarded moments. Trust that you are naturally moving through the world, sounding as you should, without any outside influences and assistance. Vocal trends are just that: trends. I believe that we should always tap into our natural tendencies, mannerisms, instincts, and preferences, and only glance briefly at influences as nothing more than a general reference. Otherwise: being ourselves, and ultimately true to ourselves, as we are expert at doing.

Whenever I mention in my workshops that I’m not there to cause worry or self-consciousness, and that I’m actually there the help refine their vocal style , that term is often met with confused looks. As if to say: “Wait – I have a vocal style? Why, yes. Yes you do . I’m very resistant – when I’m coaching someone one-on-one – to try to make any significant changes to the way someone naturally speaks, as your speech is a big part of their identity. Hard-won through years of experience and living life. Your vocal “style” is created through many factors: occasionally genetics, most often environment, and (sometimes unfortunately) cultural influences. I am hard-pressed to steer anyone away from the place they naturally occupy vocally – your personality is revealed by what you say and how you say it – and you say it with your own style. Many clients (usually women) who are bothered by the idea that they sound “too young” need to chase down the *reason* they sound “young”; and always, if it’s natural and native to the way you have always spoken (and they way you speak in all incidences) then *that’s your sound.* Some complain of speaking “boring” or in a monotone; some of us are just not ebullient, excited, or over-the-top speakers – and that’s OK. We can’t all be. The bottom line: I’m in the business of correcting speech. But like a good theatre director – who keeps as much of their actor’s natural cadence and mannerisms in – I’m interested in *improving speech* while maintaining the personality and uniqueness of the speaker. Here’s what I’d like you to tap into, in order to define – and subsequently refine -- your vocal style and speak from as authentic a place as possible: What Words Best describe Your Sound? If your voice is naturally low (or naturally high) and always has been, that’s your sound. If you are constantly asked to repeat things (or conversely, friends point out that you speak inappropriately loud for the situation you’re in) – that’s your sound (but can be modified.) Try to come up with actual descriptors: commanding, quiet, authoritarian, wispy, bossy, breathy. The more you can describe it, the better you can claim it or modify it. What Do Your Sound Like When Your Guard is Down? It’s those unguarded moments – where you’re not being listened to or scrutinized – that your real, true, natural voice emerges. Asking your spouse which garbage bins need to be left out. Asking your dog if they need to be helped up onto the bed (again!). Ordering coffee at the drive-through. These are the moments where you’re just using your voice to communicate your needs/wishes. Without pretense. Without being judged. Observe those moments, as they’re as close to your “natural” voice as you can get. Can Your Weigh Your “Vocal Wish List” Against What’s Really Possible? Just like bringing in a photo of a hairstyle to your stylist, (and them occasionally vetoing it because you do not have “that kind of hair”), you need to be realistic and pragmatic about what’s possible. I greatly admire those celebrities with naturally gravelly voices (Polly Draper, Zooey Deschanel, Sarah Silverman) but my voice does not lend itself to that (unless I’ve had an evening of conversing in a loud pub or yelling at a sporting event. And even then, it’s short-lived.) I’ve made a living with a voice that’s smooth and professional, and so I’ve had to let that dream of raspy coolness go. It’s important that you accurately describe your voice and embrace the qualities that come with it. When I coach someone, it is so much easier to work with someone who is accurate about their sound, in-tune with aspects that could benefit from modification, and be realistic about their expectations of what is possible.

(*the unspoken promise of the yoga teacher)

The owner of the yoga studio I attend and I were out for a “getting to you know you” lunch when she and her husband bought the studio – I was interested in pitching the idea of my voice workshops to her, which she was very receptive to and they are now a line-item in their yoga teacher training. During the lunch, we got to talking about the “yoga mentality” and the things which are associated with that. Calmness. A slight citrus scent sprayed in the studio. Herbal tea. Soft voices in all parts of the studio. Chill, ambient music. She mentioned one incident which really pointed out a discordant aspect which seemed very out of place in that environment: she received a call from one of her teachers who was mystified about three students picking up their mats and leaving the class as soon as it began. The teacher explained: “All I did was tell them about my weekend. I mentioned I just got back from a hunting trip” . That was enough to cause a mass exodus from her class. All arguments aside about those who legitimately hunt for survival; the fact remains: killing animals for sport and yoga just do not go together. Neither does smoking. I’ve actually – on rare occasion – seen attendees of the studio smoking outside either before or after class, and I think: “One of these things doesn’t belong with the other.” Catching that awful cigarette smoke odor on someone you’re practicing next to is distracting and stomach-turning – but it goes deeper than that. It flies in the face of the philosophy of clean living and a profound awareness of what you put in your body. (That goes for those who partake in weed – it’s still smoking, and it’s an off-putting thing to have to endure when you’re just trying to blissfully practice yoga next to someone who got high before class.) Another discordant event which is absolutely incongruous with the yoga “brand” is theft. Our studio has been burglarized multiple times; every time I have approached the front door and seen its’ fractured glass temporarily taped up, it’s a jarring reminder that the studio isn’t a separate “island”; we’re in the real world, with desperate people willing to break in to get a small float and an outdated computer. One of the yoga teachers was – semi-jokingly – talking about setting up a bear trap in the lobby (to clarify: this was not the hunter from the story above) to surprise anyone who decided to break in after hours; another teacher, hearing that extreme reaction, said, calmly: “That person who broke in and stole what they could must be in a more desperate situation than any of us can ever imagine.” There it is. That yoga feeling. Amongst the feeling of being violated by a crime, this teacher was able to see it from a very different angle. A very “Zen” angle. A couple of years ago, there was a couple who was making the circuit around yoga studios, signing up for classes together, and then, on a signal, both rolled up their mats and hit the changing rooms to clean them out of any money, car keys, or any other valuables before letting themselves out. To say we felt shaken and violated by that is an understatement. Again: we feel (probably falsely) like this environment is sacred and impenetrable. That we’re all of the same mindset. Theft and burglary are at odds with this world. I was reminded recently about a student who joined class one evening, and – with a heavy flash setting on her phone, and no effort to conceal what she was doing – took a series of selfies of her practicing. During class. All of us were in shock – including the instructor, who told her to put her phone away. The importance of social media feeds taken into account; there is a time and place. And that wasn’t it. We go to yoga class to find a healthy place to escape the constructs of life for 75 minutes. Not to include class (and anyone in the background) in the complications of life. I use this time to unplug, and wish everyone viewed yoga class as an oasis, free of obligations to communicate.  No one should change what’s natural and normal for them, but if you’re in the world of yoga, there are some habits in life – and choices we make – which are not in line with a calm, serene, somewhat clean and pure pathos attached to yoga.

Vary your practice and the way you practice.

I straddle two worlds. I love my “comfort spot” of attending the same yoga classes every week and laying out my mat, knowing exactly what I can expect from the instructor. The instructor is like a close, old friend; even my classmates who are “regulars” are people I look forward to seeing and who I look forward to practicing next to. But I also love the unknown, and not knowing in which direction the class is going. We like feeling good and accomplished at what we do. When we’re in our element. Just knowing that you’re about to head into an endeavor that you understand – and have mastered – boosts confidence and reinforces this safe space we’re in when things are going well. If you’ve had a day full of challenges and uncertainties, ending up in a familiar yoga class feels like being home. But equally important is the idea of extending your boundaries, challenging yourself, and exceeding the limits of what you thought you could do. That said, I get a particular feeling when I’m in a class that might be beyond my capabilities, even considering my years of experience in yoga. It’s a sinking feeling, knowing that the class has just begun, and it’s already progressing at a fever pace – faster than you were expecting it to. I’ve even seen it on the faces of others – that look of: “Wait -- the description on the website didn’t say Intermediate Level…” It’s a little bit of an “oopsie” moment where we feel in over our heads, and the only way out is to do your best for 90 minutes. Doing Your Best for 90 Minutes is Its Own Payoff Realizing that you are in a more challenging class than you’re typically used to – and seeing how well you do in that situation – can be a big payoff in itself. You made it! You did the whole class at a level that you might not have chosen, had you known what it was going to be like. Boundaries are stretched, and you’ve earned some well-won pride in making it farther than you thought you could. That’s called growth, and it feels great. Stick With Something You Don’t Feel Good At I’m a fan of the Huberman Lab Podcast, and in one episode, Andrew Huberman explored the idea of sticking with a new activity that you don’t feel particularly good at – for at least a half an hour. We have a tendency to “cut bait” and stop doing an activity that we feel awkward at, or that we’ve decided is not in our wheelhouse. In the interest of brain plasticity, stick with it. It’s good for us to feel “out of our range” for awhile. That’s what leads to growth and advancement. How Do You Know Where Your Edge Is If Your Don’t Test It? Comfy is good; so is respecting what your body wants. But it’s only until you test the boundaries of comfort vs discomfort that you discover just where your edge is. In Yin yoga every week, I gently push a posture just past comfort. You can always retreat from that and go back – but new boundaries get established by that constant “tide in/tide out” of stretching past where you usually go. It’s OK to Bow Out Let’s say you did your best, and you lasted the entire class. You’re on the horns of a dilemma now: do you come back? That depends on a lot of things. Are you ultimately left with a feeling that you accomplished something significant? Are you left with a feeling that – with time -- you could get used to this class? Is your current feeling of possible discord due to you trying something new and it feeling unfamiliar? I’d say: stick with it. Otherwise: if your takeaway is that the style of class if just not doing it for you; like you feel as though it’s just not for you, and that you’ve tapped into your feelings and know – in your heart – that you currently are not and likely will never be in your element: I want you to give yourself permission to bow out. There’s no shame, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with engaging in a yoga practice that you know well, and that know fits you well.  This dance between the familiar and the unfamiliar is one that we do in many situations. Getting into reading a new novel from an unfamiliar author is to open yourself up to seeing how this author writes and tells a story. When you meet someone new, you’re gathering clues about what they’re like and how those dovetail with your beliefs. So it is with taking a different yoga class. The unfamiliar should always be embraced, with cautions. Know your body well enough to know if this class is sustainable for you. Have the presence to know the difference between your mind and body being challenged in a good way, and exposing yourself to something either dangerous, or that doesn’t ultimately serve you in the long run.

In this article, prepare yourself for a gigantic love letter to my yoga teachers – all yoga teachers – because my respect for you knows no bounds. Years ago, I wrote a blog article for my favorite yoga studio’s newsletter, entitled: “10 Things Yoga Students Wish Yoga Teachers Knew.” It outlined various aspects of the yoga experience which are at the core of why we keep coming back week after week – aspects which teachers need to be reminded of. When I think about boiling things down to their most basic form as to why yoga is magic and yoga teachers deserve our utmost respect, these are the key things for me: We love this journey we’re about to take together. It doesn’t matter if you’re subbing for a much-loved teacher with a huge following and/or are completely new on the scene; we are eager to drink in whatever you’re serving, and it really is a journey from start to finish. All we know: we’re not going to be the same people who walked into the class. We trust you. We trust you with a lot, actually. Just by you taking charge of the class and committing to teach it, we turn our trust over to you. We trust that you have our safety in mind, and our engagement. We have complete and total trust that we are in the right place and that your class will be time well spent. We hope the class is engaging for you, too. I frequently worry that the yoga instructor might get bored. Bored of seeing the same faces all the time, bored of repeatedly teaching similar sequences. Built from asanas which are thousands of years old. Hopefully – much like your students who approach each class through new eyes – you too are able to view each and every class as a uniquely fresh experience. I hope so. We want you to come back, too. We’re interested to see how your mind works. I’m particularly intrigued by “peak pose” classes, where all throughout the class, we are gearing our bodies (and brains) up for one large, centerpiece pose at the end of the class. I love how you get us there, going through all the proper stretching and prep work to see us get safely and intuitively into the ultimate pose. When you’re deconstructing a pose, it’s fascinating to see how your mind has taken it apart and put it together again in one cohesive pose. I will never get bored of going along with your thought process, and it’s particularly intriguing when we see you deconstruct – and then construct – it again. For those of us who attend yoga several times a week, yoga is transformative. It quells anxiety, it retunes our bodies, it calms the nervous system and mellows the mind. That feeling of being “yoga drunk” is real: we are actually “altered” and changed by the experience. I have the privilege of doing my Yoga and Voice Workshops for Yoga Teacher Trainees, and it’s fascinating to see young students (or young-at-heart students) who are being trained from the ground up at just how to make this experience the best it can be for your future students. It cannot be emphasized enough to these yoga teachers to be: your students respect and revere you, and any way choose to approach the teaching of the class – and however you execute it – is exactly what we need and crave.

I was recently watching a compilation of SNL videos, and I was instantly taken with the mastery and expert mimicry of the female cast members doing a parody of the Kardashians on their “Weekend Update” segment. It was incredibly detailed and nuanced, and right on-the-nose. (My favorite line: “I’m Kim, the beautiful one; I’m Courtney, the smart one; and I’m…. Chloe.” ) Of course, their wardrobe and hair were carefully selected and executed – but it was when you’re hearing their voices for the first time, that you realize how directly they “nailed” that impersonation. The Kardashians are unmistakable in their whiny, nasal, constantly imploring tone, with some vocal fry and upspeak thrown in for good measure. They sound like little squeaky dolls – and that’s what their empire was built on. So, it’s no surprise that people like the Kardashians (“Kardashi-i?”) serve as some powerful cultural influences in speech. They model success, they epitomize mastery and control over social media, and they ooze money. Who wouldn’t want to emulate or channel even a little bit of that? The problem gets back to authenticity, and the major handicap to powerful speech which I’ve addressed in detail in other posts: any time you take on a persona that isn’t yours, that’s an affectation – and that’s a problem. You’re not speaking from a genuine place if you’re imitating someone else, or even subconsciously taking on someone else’s cadence. But why them? The Kardashian sound indicates affluence, and an aloof regard for the world; we just don’t care and we indicate our overall boredom with a rhythmic drone meant to signal others in Young Rich America. But there are so many other strong, confident models to want to emulate – if you have to. Strong speakers like Viola Davis, Laura Linney, and Zooey Deschanel come to mind. Michelle Obama. America Ferrera. Jennifer Lawrence. Paula Zahn. Dana Bash – or even Catelyn Collins – the age of the Kardashians, but a well-spoken, intelligent newswoman in her own right, and free of any distracting vocal affectation. There are so many powerful, influential female speakers who are not only rich in content, but they are also immensely powerful speakers and in great control of their vocal instruments. They display strength, assuredness, confidence, and do not depict a caricature of femaleness; they are owning their power. And that’s a good model for your speech. A female making themselves smaller, younger, and more submissive is taking several quantum steps back – not just for themselves, but for women in general. I’m all about speaking from a place of authenticity, and only expressing yourself in a way that is native and natural to you. I’m against imitating anyone; but if you’re looking to others for inspiration, there are much better models than the short-lived celebrity trend of our day. Look to strong, powerful influences to inspire – but not inform – your own speech patterns.

I listen to a lot of podcasts. Or, at least, I *try* to. I “audition” a lot of podcasts to keep me entertained on my trips back and forth to yoga, or driving around doing errands, and it’s astounding how many of them have the first few seconds listened to, and then I stop and move onto something else. (I’m reminded of an ad agent years ago telling me the story about him auditioning voices for a radio spot while driving out to his cabin in BC. He’d listen to the first five seconds of a demo, and if it didn’t work for him, he’d eject the cassette tape and throw it out of his sunroof. The thought of people’s beloved – and belabored over -- voiceover demo tapes littering the Trans Canada Highway still bothers me to this day.) The point was: if he wasn’t “grabbed” by a demo in the first few seconds, he moved along. As so do many of us when we start to listen to a podcast. If it doesn’t grab us right away; if there’s something odd about the podcaster’s voice – we move on. Such is the case when I try to find a new podcast I can glom onto. It’s a combination of subject matter that interests me (especially for the long-term, if there are multiple seasons of the podcast), good research on the topic, and a thorough dive into the subject matter. (I can usually tell when a podcaster searches Wikipedia and calls that “research”.) But most of the time, it’s the voice. If it’s hosted by someone who isn’t comfortable or experienced in front of the mic; by someone who doesn’t understand basic mic skills and vocal hygiene, or who hasn’t consulted with an equipment expert to advise on the technical setup – that a hard pass for me. (Would you start any business venture without first consulting an expert about how to do it correctly?) Here’s a list of basics that those pondering getting into podcasting should consider before embarking on this significant venture. Are you even the person to do this? Everyone wants to host a podcast, because you are interested enough in the subject matter to make it into a “thing”. But thing objectively for a second: are you going to honor the subject matter and really give it the polish and impact it deserves? Or is it best to outsource the voicing to a V/o pro who knows the technicalities of the equipment *and also* has the performance experience to breathe life into the podcast? Have you talked to technical people? Let’s say you decide to voice it – great. Do you know which mics do what? Which mics you sound best on? Have you asked an audio professional about basic microphone skills? Is your recording environment a dead, quiet space, or will you be fighting with ambient noise? The technicalities are important to get sorted out early, and revisited often. Do you love the subject? Show us. Here’s where things go sideways for me. I was listening to a true crime podcast, delivered by a host who spoke in a deadpan monotone. And this was suspenseful, intriguing, and somewhat dark material. Read in a flat line. Just getting the words out and no thought at all about the *meaning* of words he was saying. The impact they could have. He was reading off a page, and it showed. If you truly love the subject – by all means, script out the episodes. But know the material well enough that you would be able to scrap the script and just tell the story. Tell the listener why *you care* about the story. Why *they* should care. All that comes naturally when you yourself are getting into the material, and you’re really thinking about the subject.  To grab me, a podcast must be authentic. Genuine. A journey. Too many of them are delivered by podcasters with sloppy technique and an almost distant stance from the material. Make sure your podcast is inviting, retains their interest, and tells a story.