Until that happy moment where I find something half-decent to say on here, I’m going to keep trucking with my Rotten Tomatoes path. So…this book. I picked it up at a piano lesson a hundred years ago, and I asked for it for Christmas and got it. And I devoured it. At the time.
Now, fast forward. Off to college. Theatre major, having second thoughts about said theatre major, thought this book would be useful, because I want to play Belle soooooo badly, but of course that’s never gonna happen. The night before I left my house to move into my dorm, I picked up this book again, and a new perspective hit me. It was:
WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?
It’s not because the ideas are bad. They’re not. It’s because Love gives an aura of bragging. I get he’s trying to be informative and all that, but the bragging didn’t sit right with me. Mostly he brags about himself:
Many of my clients can afford to go anywhere they want and to study any technique ever devised, but they come to me because I have developed the most specific, effective exercises that exist for opening up the voice to all its possibilities. They know that in one lesson I can give them access to parts of their voices they’ve never been able to reach and that they might not have known existed. (Page 2 of my copy)
Following a glowing endorsement from a client:
I hear comments like this all the time. (Page 16 of my copy)
Wow, what an ego.
But there’s more: But I could sing, and I clung to my voice like a lifeline. I began giving concerts at lunchtime, and I realized that I could fill a gym when I sang a song…in a short time I was winning vocal competitions and performing as a baritone in operatic productions around Los Angeles. (Pages 16-17 of my copy)
I get that it adds credibility to hear it from him directly, but after reading the previous passages, it’s just giving an air of show-off.
As if that weren’t enough, at one point, he even brags about his little daughter:
By the time she was one and a half, she was singing continually. And by the time she was too, she was singing along to the Disney classics…but she had, on her own, become the diva of the house. People would hear her voice, on pitch and connected from chest to head, WITH vibrato, and stare in disbelief. (Page 142 of my copy)
First of all, staring is rude. Second of all, vibrato at age TWO? Seriously, Love? You’re setting your daughter up for an ego when she grows up. Not to mention the fact that you’re bragging about yourself again, albeit indirectly. It’s giving “Look what I did to her! I’m so proud of myself!” Give me a break.
More than once, Love shares tales of the “students” that he’s worked with on various exercises and troubleshooting tactics. “My student so-and-so had this problem…” “My student so-and-so had difficulty with such-and-such, so I did this to help…” “My client so-and-so did yada-yada…” At first, I believed that those were real people, but now I’m starting to question it. After what I bitched about regarding Sean Covey’s 7 Habits, can you blame me? I’ll leave it at that.
Now, I don’t find it appropriate to complain about the outdated pop culture references, because this book was published in the ‘90s, so I’ll excuse that one. Instead, I’m going to move forward to something that grinds against my nerves when anyone in the world does it, and I touched on this in my bitch-rant of 7 Habits. It’s when people contradict themselves. Here is an example in this book:
A rule of thumb is that you don’t have to shake any part of your body to make vibrato (page 148 of my copy) Then, on the next page: Though I’ve said that I’m against shaking anything to make vibrato, when you’re starting out, I bend the rule a little to help you experience how it’s supposed to feel in your body and then tells us to shake a finger up and down in front of us. Okaaaayyy…I get that sometimes we need a little pick-me-up, but didn’t it JUST say a minute ago that shaking is outlawed? As if that weren’t enough, we get this passage on the following page: Make a fist and place it at the top of your stomach…push your hands in and out in a rapid pulsing motion to send quick bursts of air to the back of your throat…Keep your hands moving in and out rapidly, repeat the sound, and pay attention to where the air is pulsing in your throat.
MAKE IT MAKE SENSE! You tell us not to shake things, and then you tell us to shake things? There’s a difference between a pick-me-up and a self-contradiction.
As disdained as I feel about the self-contradictions, I do think his point about not moving your jaw up and down is valid.
My next point is about Chapter 9, which is…um, preaching, if you will, about taking care of your voice. I am 100% aware that I tend to preach too, so I’m not saying “preach” like it’s a bad thing. Anyway, I don’t like how Love’s idea of a “singer’s” diet is nothing but plain water and that you’re supposed to starve yourself otherwise because every food in the world has “problematic” ingredients that “may affect your voice.” I’m not kidding when I say there’s actually an itemized list of foods and drinks that are off-limits, and Love gets into every little gory detail of precisely why you should kick coffee, dairy, tea, and red meat to the curb. Yeah, about that, Love: Starving performers dysfunction. Everyone dysfunctions when they starve. We can’t live on solely water. Okay, there’s a mention of tomatoes, and briefly why broccoli is beneficial if you want calcium, but for Christ’s sake!
On the bright side, Love also reassures us that there are short-term solutions if we don’t want to completely go cold turkey. Enjoy your dairy foods the weekend before, but cut way back from Sunday night through Wednesday…increase the amount of water you’re drinking. (Page 133 of my copy.) That’s fine. I don’t know how I can live without a milkshake from Chick-fil-A or a frosty from Wendy’s. Did I mention that there’s a milkshake/smoothie machine in the dining hall that stares at me and mocks me every day? Talk about torture!
Another thing about Chapter 9: I
did
like how he preached his anti-smoking ideals. I tell people that if they want to study with me, they have to stop smoking. (Page 137 of my copy) There’s that bragging about “I’m the best teacher on the planet” again, but put that aside, and I agree wholeheartedly.
For my next point, I’m going to piggyback off another review on here that said “over-inflated promises.” Yes, we do get those. Yes, Love does have a tendency to jump the gun and over-sell himself. Yes, I think that “solving a problem in minutes, not years” is unrealistic. But as this book was written before the great technology takeover where everyone has artificial ADHD and wants things at the drop of a hat, which I’ve mentioned on here previously, I suppose I can get behind that.
I don’t suppose if I could track this guy down right this minute and tell him that my dream role is Belle, he would burst out laughing and say “What kind of pot are you smoking?” Furthermore, I imagine he would cringe and wince at the overdose of what he calls “chest” that is frequently found in Broadway cast recordings which make up my Spotify playlists. What’s the betting that he’ll say that those people are not doing it “correctly”? I’m willing to bet my bank account that he’s going to take an unauthorized trip backstage to tell those people to stop belting because it’s “causing them damage” and that he could “fix them up so they don’t lose complete control of their voices.” On the one hand, I get it. Sometimes people have bad habits. On the other hand, stage is meant to be exaggerated. It’s supposed to be larger than life. Maybe that’s why I’m not doing well in my acting class. Still, Love, I get you’re trying to help, but don’t try to force it.
As if that weren’t enough, there’s a section where Love points out the “problems” in the voices of very famous artists (outdated pop culture references that I mentioned earlier) and says that he’s not intending to “cast stones” (his words, not mine) at them. Um, excuse me, but saying “I don’t mean to be racist, but…” does not make your comment any less racist. To quote Mean Girls: “Calling someone dumb won’t make you any smarter.” I get that Love claims to be the expert, but dear God, if he said any of that about me, I would track his studio down in LA and kick his ass. Metaphorically, that is.
That was harsh. I think I’ll regret that.
Last point, and then I promise I’ll be done. This is not necessarily a criticism, but I thought I would end this on a positive note. I thought this was hilarious: Luther Vandross once said that some singers do riffs as if they’re being paid by the note and need to cram in everything and the kitchen sink. (Page 157 of my copy.) I’ll never forget when me and my sister were driving to Disney World over Christmas break, and my sister was blasting her playlist that she’d created for this precise purpose, and on it was Christina Aguilera’s “O Holy Night” that was less of “O Holy Night” and more random notes being thrown around, sliding up and down notes like a washboard, and at one point she even took it up to stratospheric high notes. It amused me thinking how Love would have rolled his eyes in disgust.
That’s about it, fellas. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go to bed and curl up with a murder mystery book and my plush Hermione that I mentioned earlier. Until tomorrow, then.