Austin — Feet, feet, paws on the street. I tune my focus to the base of my structure, my two wheels, where the rubber meets the road. What happens to my singing when I focus completely there, the constantly adjusting musculature, the shifting placement of weight, the fat and lean parts, the touching of the floor.
I start singing in falsetto, notice that and bring my focus back to my feet. The falsetto stays. Slow.
Then I notice a pedal-like sensation, where when I put more pressure on one foot it surges my voice, like revving an engine. This pushing is satisfying, pulsing sound up my body to my mouth. I feel more vertically connected.
I notice I’m mostly paying attention to one foot so I scan over to the other and then produce lower-range sounds. For a while it’s a dialog between these two feet, high and low.
Often, my focus will stray from my feet to what I’m singing. That almost ever present impetus to be “interesting” is right there telling me to develop the notes into something more elaborate, more enigmatic, more beautiful, like there is always an audience there ready to give me a lifetime summary judgment. As I return my attention downward, this sub voice files a parting protest, wanting to raise a sign saying, “even though this sounds utterly the same and boring, Will is a really good singer.”
I’m back to my feet and start walking very slowly, a walking meditation with sound.
Then I let go of this idea and just sing, my foot focus releasing to the broader dance. My feet are louder now in the overall mix, like a new word you learn and then hear everywhere.