In early and mid-January I had the great good fortune to meet two out-voice scientist Jo Estill. Trained from an early age in bel canto (classi- cal art songs), she spent decades measuring how sound waves change when the muscles of the mouth and throat are used in different configurations.

Ultimately, Estill developed a highly unique system of voice training based on what she terms “compulsory figures” – tiny isolated movements that, once mastered, allow a singer to produce any style of singing, from opera to bluegrass to “belting” to wispy jazz. Now 82 and nearing retirement, Estill is passing her pioneer’s torch on to a few younger teachers around the country. As I honored vintage singers in my last column, I must here pay homage to teachers, and Jo Estill is certainly one who deserves great appreciation.

One of her slogans—which I’ve long had pinned up in my office, for shock value if nothing else—is that SINGING IS AN UNNATURAL ACT. Before the folk police start beating on me with vehement “how dare you/ everyone can sing/ don’t be a stupid elitist” brickbats, let me hasten to explain!

Singing IS natural as an activity enjoyed since the earliest days of evolution of the human family and tribe. Absolutely. It is found in nearly every culture, and is typically learned by osmosis or community experience rather than as a formal practice. Lullabies, work songs, healing chants, courtship songs, and bardic ballads are valued within the folk tradition because of their organic expression of indigenous identity and style.

But singing as a performance form, done for extended periods of time, at high volume, and/or with elaborate ornamentation, does not come naturally to every human being. From the lumber camps of the Northeast USA to the healing ceremonies of the Navajo, and in other non-commercial or pre-commercial settings, certain people have been recognized as having special vocal abilities. When labor becomes specialized, singing emerges as a discreet skill, something to practice with conscious intent and discipline—a somewhat UNnatural act.

Estill’s training system, not surprisingly, felt extremely unnatural at first. It was like learning to dance by practicing 15 rigorous, individual steps to perfect mastery, except harder of course because of the difficulty of seeing what’s going on inside the teacher’s throat, let alone one’s own.

I got the hang of some of it, heard other students master the bits I couldn’t, and was humbled by the entire experience. But Estill’s wisdom and humor balanced her high standards, and during informal singing sessions there were moments of drama and deep magic that made the work worthwhile.

The following week, I met a very different voice expert: Catherine Fitzmaurice, whose theater-based method uses dramatic body positions and powerful transformations of breath to release muscle tension. This “de- structuring” of habitual patterns throughout the entire body results in increased freedom of sound. The sound is then “re-structured” for performance: energy circuits from deep in the pelvis are connected to the language- filled mind, creating a spontaneous, organic, yet highly-charged and skillful vocal expression.

While less musical in orientation than the Estill Voice Training System (EVTS), Fitzmaurice Voicework addresses the concerns of many folksingers I’ve met who “just want to feel free and open, not trained.” Although as yet I’ve only glimpsed Fitzmaurice’s work, my years of studying other theater methods contributed as much as formal music training, to my singing, song- writing, and teaching.

If you, as a folk-oriented singer, still lived in a small, culturally-cohesive and physically-active tribe, where everybody sang the same songs the same way during the same basic-life activities, you probably wouldn’t need to do much more than mimic your elders. But in a sedentary, post-industrial lifestyle where everyone who hears you has also heard highly processed, ferociously amplified singers in a dozen styles, just following your instincts and copying a few old recordings may not be enough.

Especially if you perform professionally, for hours at a stretch and for days/ weeks/ months on tour, an everyday level of vocal technique won’t protect you from strain. It is natural to worry about a voice teacher changing your style. But if you’re clever, you can learn basic techniques and then use them your way. That too is part of the tradition of folk arts.

For more information on the two methods. I’ve mentioned here, check out www.EVTS.com and www.fitzmauricevoice.com.

Finally, a correction and profound apology for misnomers in my last column: I managed to mangle both the spelling of Buck Page’s name, and the title of his band, Riders of the Purple Sage. Such errors may be human and “natural,” but in journalism as in singing, getting things right sometimes takes effort. Carry it on.

Joanna Cazden is a singer-songwriter and licensed speech pathologist. Find her online at www.voiceofyourlife.com