Floating on the High C's: Allegri's Miserere and Senza Vibrato Singing

"Straight-tone" singing is a widely used -- and necessary -- vocal color among professional choristers, but there is still a lot of resistance to it among classically trained singers.

This post was originally published in March 2023, on my old blog. In March 2024, I edited and re-published it in the form you see here. As it’s one of the earlier pieces of Expert Content I wrote for my business, I thought it fitting that it should finally live here, on my Substack.

Wishing a blessed Passiontide and Holy Week to all church musicians, as well as to all who commemorate and celebrate these beautiful and important Christian feasts.

I was first introduced to straight-tone singing in college.

I majored in voice performance at a small liberal arts school with a strong choral tradition, and it was in college choir that I sang the music of composers like Victoria, Sweelinck, and Byrd for the first time.

Our director, himself a singer and a voice teacher, referred to the straight-tone sound needed for this style as “sound one.” (“Sound two” was a slight shimmer of vibrato, and “sound three” was regular, full-out singing - the kind you’d use for big oratorio stuff.)

Always up for a vocal challenge, I kept an open mind to the straight-tone thing, especially because, well, the music sounded better when everyone sang that way. Singing Victoria with “sound 3” sounded weird and felt cumbersome to me.

But singing this way nonetheless felt challenging, and was often fatiguing. My fellow students felt the same way. There was a lot of resistance to it.

I don’t fault the director for this — it wasn’t his responsibility to teach us vocal technique, after all. That’s not what choir was for. We had private voice lessons for that.

But the problem was that no one was teaching us how to sing this way. Our voice lessons were geared toward general bel canto classical technique, and we focused primarily on art songs and opera arias. So when it came to singing without vibrato in choir, we were kind of on our own.

And because no one taught us how to do it properly, and we experienced lots of vocal fatigue and tension as a result, a general consensus emerged, which was that straight-tone singing is inherently unhealthy.

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My first foray into the professional singing world post-undergrad was when I auditioned for a church section leader job in the choir that sang at the parish’s weekly Latin Mass. I’d graduated from college about three years prior, and had mostly been working in retail and had begun teaching some young students. In other words, I hadn’t been doing a whole lot of big-girl singing in the professional world.

I had prepared Mozart’s "Laudate Dominum" (the pretty, F major one — not the crazy A major one). After I sang that, the director said, “Now we have some sight-reading. And you actually have to sight-read it.” Meaning, no hints other than a starting pitch.

This did not faze me, as I was (and am) an excellent sight-reader. So I looked at what I was handed.

It was a choral excerpt from something Renaissance-y, from what I could tell (there was no title on the page). The text was in Latin. The meter looked simple enough. The tempo appeared to be slow. There were definite g- and c-minor vibes, based on the harmonies I could see.

One of the phrases had a long, sustained high C with a stepwise descent down to a G that was sustained for even longer. That’s fine, I thought. I have many notes above a C.

(Experienced church choral singers probably already know exactly what piece I am talking about. We’re gonna circle back to this piece later. For now, let’s just say that my 24-year-old self had no idea what I was looking at.)

I sang the passage without any mistakes, as far as I can recall. After I was done, the director said, “Okay, now can you sing it without vibrato?”

I had never sung a high C without vibrato before.

But, I reasoned, I’d sung F’s and G’s without vibrato, so maybe I could do this, too?

I sang it. With no mistakes, and with no vibrato.

I ended up getting the job.

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For those not familiar with the Catholic Latin Mass, it is, in a sense, exactly what it sounds like: everything in the liturgy, except for the sermon, is said or sung in Latin. If you’re in the choir for a high Mass, it is near-constant singing. It is a veritable vocal marathon. Of course, the intensity of the marathon can vary depending on the choral selections chosen.

To give you an idea of what was standard fare for this choir at the time that I joined, it was a lot of Palestrina and Victoria, and a good amount of Mozart and Haydn. On a typical Sunday, we would sing a full choral Mass Ordinary setting (4-5 movements, depending on the liturgical season), as well as choral pieces for the processional, offertory, communion, and recessional, often in the same musical style as the Mass setting. So imagine, for example, an entire program (8-9 selections) of just Palestrina (or something similar), plus the Gregorian chant Mass propers, read in the square notation/neume format (yes, this was a typical program, and yes, I had to dig deep into my mostly-suppressed memories of undergrad music history to remember how neumes worked). It was like singing a different mini concert program every weekend.

Most of the choir were parish volunteers — dedicated and, in some cases, very musically capable; but, as the level of vocal technique varied, my responsibility, as a trained, professional singer, was to lead and bolster the soprano section.

There was, of course, the no-vibrato expectation. I’d known that going in.

What I didn’t anticipate was that the choir director was absolutely relentless about it.

Not a single shred of vibrato was allowed — not from me, nor from anyone else, but especially not from the sopranos. Even when we sang repertoire in which vibrato would be considered a standard stylistic choice, we were told to tone it down as much as possible.

Not only that, but since there were (of course) more sopranos than there were members of the other sections of the choir, we were often told to sing softer, in an effort to balance with the other voice parts. (A better solution would have been to encourage the lower voices to sing out a bit more, but I get it, it’s just easier to blame the sopranos, right?) So not only was it a no-vibrato situation, it was a “never sing louder than a mezzo forte” situation, vibrato or not.

So let’s recap: I was supposed to lead the soprano section in a heavy choral program every single Sunday, using a limited palette of tonal colors and only the softer half of my dynamic range. Right.

I tried my darndest to comply. I sang without vibrato, but when you have such a wide variety of voices with different levels of vocal training singing difficult, highly-stylized music, blend is still going to be difficult to achieve — unless the director knows how to navigate these issues and bring out the best in a choir of volunteer singers.

(That was not the situation here, in case you were wondering.)

As you can probably imagine, there were lots of balance and intonation issues. And the proposed solution was always “the sopranos sing softer and straighter.” And any time I’d attempt any kind of phrasing or exercise basic musicality (like actual dynamics or articulation printed in the score), I was told not to, because it was too loud or too much or too this or too that. I (and the rest of the sopranos) were expected to sing as quietly and as blandly as possible at all times. And over time, it became clear that I was not the only singer in the choir who was frustrated by this.

After a Renaissance-heavy program, especially, I’d end up very vocally tired and frustrated. But I kept on doing it, because, I reasoned, I’d figure out this whole straight-tone thing one day, and then I’d be able to sing with more ease.

But it became clear, as time went on, that the full range of my vocal skills — which included a lot more than just bland, mezzo-piano, senza vibrato singing — were not valued. When we would sing things like Haydn’s Heiligmesse for big feasts like Pentecost, with all those high B-flats, I’d sing out more fully, because that, to me, is what the bombastic nature of that piece requires. But I was still told to sing softer and straighter. For Haydn.

And to be perfectly clear: neither my voice nor my vibrato is "big." I'm a light-voiced lyric coloratura (not that I really believe that much in Fach system labels) with a fast vibrato and a bright tone up top — the kind of voice that is well-suited to Baroque- and classical-era music. It's not like I was trying to sing Haydn like it was Puccini. (Eww, right?)

If I tried to speak up about it, or explain how things felt from a singer’s perspective, I was almost immediately shot down. The director clearly wasn’t interested in hearing another perspective, even though I could tell from the general morale in the choir that one was desperately needed.

I ended up leaving the job after about two and a half years. It was no longer worth the vocal fatigue and the frustration, and it was clear that a) my concerns (which were shared by other members of the choir) would not be listened to; b) I'd only been hired for my sight-reading chops and my sound was not actually wanted or valued; and c) that I would not be able to exercise any kind of artistic agency or leadership, despite the word "leader" actually being, you know, in my job title.

Despite this experience, though, I never gave up on straight-tone singing. I knew it could be done well, and I wanted to figure out how.

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In the ensuing years, I got my Master’s degree and began singing and performing more actively. I sang in a variety of choirs — big ones, small ones, ones that performed traditional masterworks, ones that specialized in new music. I learned something from each of them.

As I got older and my technique solidified — and because I was no longer singing for a difficult director who made unreasonable tonal demands on the singers — I was able to refine and own my choral singing technique as something distinct from my solo singing technique. In many cases, there was overlap, of course, but in the cases where there wasn’t, I was finally able to find a way to sing straight-tone that didn’t exhaust me. And in time, it eventually became something I enjoyed doing, in moderation.

I enjoyed being able to bring out different colors in my voice and exercise my versatility. I enjoyed being able to make the choice about how much vibrato I would use, and when. And I was finally singing in situations where my skills and choices were appreciated, with colleagues who were open to my ideas and perspective, which made it all the more rewarding.

Nowadays, straight-tone is a color choice I use in nearly every choral situation I find myself in. It’s not my default, but it’s something I find useful for tuning and balance in certain cases. And I have no problem if a director asks for senza vibrato singing, because now I know how to do it, and because there’s usually a legitimate artistic reason that they want that sound.

There were many things that played a part in this journey. Having better overall vocal technique, for one. But an equally important part of it was my experience as a voice teacher and having worked with a wide variety of voices to achieve a wide variety of tonal outcomes. Although I’d never taught a student to sing straight-tone (my teens and tweens all wanted to learn how to belt like Broadway stars), and although I’d never been taught how to do it myself, I was able to teach myself how to do it.

A big mental hurdle I had to get over was being afraid to alter my technique to achieve a straight-tone sound. Conservatory-trained singers work so, so hard on a specific technique and then believe they can and should apply that technique to every single classical singing situation. This just isn’t true.

The biggest thing that helped me get over this hurdle was also rooted in my teaching. I’d explain to all my students what the technical and mechanical differences were between chest voice and head voice, between belt and legit, between classical and musical theater. I would (and do) make it clear to them that they are completely different techniques, and that singers can, and should, learn both, if that aligns with their goals. But you can’t take one technique and apply it to everything you sing. That adage that “if you can sing classical technique you can sing anything” needs to go, because it just. isn’t. true.

Although choral singing falls under the “classical” umbrella, I think the same principle applies. You can’t sing Palestrina like an operatic aria. You can’t sing Gregorian chant like a Romantic art song. You need to change the way you sing, period. And for many classical singers, that idea is anathema. Ask a classical singer to change anything about their tone or their technique, and you’ll likely get a lot of resistance.

They will say straight-tone singing is unhealthy. They’ll insist that vibrato is inherent to the classical style. They’ll say straight-tone is just not a fit for their voice.

I’m going to address these objections in a moment, but for now I’ll just say that this mentality is still really, really prevalent in the classical singing world, and I wish that it wasn’t.

But I understand why it is.

Because a lot of classically-trained singers had experiences similar to mine: they were required to sing in choirs where they were required to sing straight-tone, and were never actually taught how to do it.

Or, like me, they sang for directors who made unreasonable tonal demands on them, for some reason not realizing that a grown, trained, female soprano was never going to sound like the thin, English boy-choir aesthetic that they really wanted.

Or, they were conditioned by the opera-centric conservatory culture that the best and only healthy way to sing is with a full voice and ample vibrato.

Or all of the above.

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So, here’s the part where I say the hard thing to my fellow classical singers who believe straight-tone singing isn’t healthy or isn’t for them.

“Straight-tone singing is unhealthy.” This is demonstrably false. There are many professional choristers of all voice parts all over the world who regularly sing in this way. Can it be done in an unhealthy way? Sure. But so can “regular” classical technique. Vocal injuries happen to singers across all styles, from classical to pop and rock. Vocal styles are not unhealthy - it’s the technique employed to sing them that can be healthy (i.e., coordinated and efficient) or unhealthy (uncoordinated and inefficient, thus creating imbalances and compensations in the vocal mechanism resulting in injury).

The reason you think straight-tone singing is unhealthy is because no one has shown you how to do it well. I agree that a balanced vibrato is a natural by-product of a coordinated vocal mechanism in the classical style, but it doesn’t mean that that by-product needs to be present all the time. There are many other vocal styles — musical theater, pop, and jazz, for example — in which singers do not use vibrato, or use it very sparingly. Does that mean these singers' instruments are imbalanced or uncoordinated? Does it mean they are singing "unhealthily?" If you think the answer is yes, I gently encourage you to check your classical bias at the door and open your mind to the fact that there is more than one legitimate way to sing healthily.

“But vibrato is inherent to the classical style.” Okay, sure. Most types of classical music are sung with varying degrees of vibrato. But, as I mentioned earlier, choral singing falls under the “classical music” umbrella, and vibrato is not always inherent to this style, depending on the era the music is from and the tonal goals of the choir. Furthermore, I believe that straight-tone singing can even be employed by classical singers in non-choral genres — especially art song, which is more intimate and can allow for variation in vocal production without having to navigate the demands of singing over an orchestra. It should be a color choice available to all singers, and should not be equated with fatigue and tension.

“Straight-tone just isn’t a fit for my voice.” I get that. I respect that. There are certain things my voice doesn’t do well, light-voiced lyric coloratura that I am. If eliminating your vibrato really is beyond your vocal limits, props to you for acknowledging and owning that. However, before you make such a claim about your singing, I’d ask you to give it a fair chance and spend some time exploring all of the incredible things your voice can do. Straight-tone singing is not some stripped-down, held-back version of your "real" singing — it is a different kind of sound altogether, so just like it took you lots of practice to hone your bel canto classical technique, it's going to take time and practice to be able to do this well, too. Don't give up on it just because you tried it once and it "didn't work" or "didn't feel good." There is a difference between something feeling truly uncomfortable, and something just feeling different or unfamiliar. If you are singing mindfully as you experiment with new sounds (in any style - not just with straight-tone), you will not ruin your voice.

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And here’s the part where I talk to choral directors.

To be clear, I'm talking to folks who lead choirs of young, aspiring, or avocational singers, who, for whatever reason, don't yet have the technical tools to sing senza vibrato healthily and consistently. The reason I write this at all is because, over the course of my career as a voice teacher, I've heard from far too many high school students and avocational adults that their choir directors ask them to sing in ways that are uncomfortable for them, and they come to me in their lessons confused and frustrated, asking what exactly those directives mean and what they should do. Sometimes it's in regards to dynamic levels, sometimes it has to do with range or tessitura, but often, it has to do with vibrato.

For the record, I do believe it's possible for these singers to sing senza vibrato in their choirs. The only way they're going to learn how to do it is, after all, by doing it.

But I think when we ask these singers to sing in this way, we would do well to evaluate the reasons for our request, and make sure we ask it in a way that doesn't make singers whose voices have noticeable vibrato feel like they're being singled out.

If you have legitimate artistic reasons for wanting a senza vibrato sound, and the music is at an appropriate enough tessitura and dynamic level for your choristers to sustain this kind of singing, and you are using it as one color among many, then ask away.

But if you're asking for it simply to "fix" balance or blend issues, or to be the choir's MO, this may create both vocal and personal challenges for your singers. If not done for the right reasons, it may start to work against the tonal goals of the ensemble, instead of in their favor. This is not a judgment on you or your directing — it is simply an observation stemming from my personal experience as a chorister, as well as my work with young and avocational choral singers over the past decade-plus.

If you're working with more experienced singers who have the technical chops to sing senza vibrato consistently, then ask away — but keep in mind that, as with any kind of strenuous singing, it can't happen indefinitely, especially at high tessituras or loud dynamic levels.

Finally, if a singer in your choir comes to you and says something is uncomfortable for them, please make them feel heard. Again — what you ask for from your choir is ultimately your call, and it doesn't mean your demands are unreasonable; but please do not be dismissive of a singer's concerns in this area, especially if they are otherwise making a good faith effort to contribute positively to the ensemble.

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The piece that I sight-read at my section leader job audition was Allegri’s "Miserere mei Deus." If you have never heard this piece, you should listen here.

(And for kicks and giggles, you can also listen to the helium version here. You’ll see what I mean.)

The Miserere is an all-Latin setting of Psalm 51, which begins, “Have mercy on me, oh God, in your goodness. In the greatness of your compassion, wipe out my offense.” The music is full of suspensions and angst punctuated by only very temporary relief-bearing resolutions.

And it is LONG. There are five main sections, each containing a choral section and a soli section, the latter of which culminates in that phrase with the high C that I sight-read in my audition. Even after all these years, I still think they are five of the most challenging and exposed high C's known to soprano-kind — not because they're high C's, necessarily, but because they require stellar technique, a specific kind of sound, and the ability to perform consistently under pressure (you have to do it five times, after all).

This piece was a Lenten/Triduum standard at my old church job. It was always the final piece we sang at our Tenebrae service, which occurred the Wednesday of Holy Week, the week leading up to Easter. Those high C's always felt exciting, but also like a lot of pressure, because, at that young age, I didn't have the confidence in myself or my technique to feel completely secure.

Nowadays, I'm no longer freaked out by those high C's. I know I've got 'em in the bag, thanks to technique, experience, and overall self-confidence. It's actually enjoyable to do them now, soaring up there while the lower voices support you underneath, relishing the suspensions and harmonies. But I think about how crazy it was to have to sight-read them, senza vibrato, in an audition as a relatively inexperienced 24-year old, and can't say that I wish that on anyone.

Today, I am grateful for that old church job, difficult though it was. Not only did I meet some folks there who remain good friends to this day, but the vocal and musical experiences are ones I continue to draw on with each church and choral gig I sing.

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My hope in writing this is that singers and choral directors can have more open, honest conversations around touchy subjects like vocal tone. In general, I believe singers can be more open to experimenting with new and different sounds, and that directors could allow for more flexibility and understanding of singers’ perspectives when it comes to certain techniques.

I also hope that my experience can encourage other young singers who find themselves in jobs or gigs where their skills aren’t valued. You don’t have to stay there. You can, and should, seek out opportunities that not only align with your skill set, but where your collaborators and directors will truly appreciate all that you have to offer. Surround yourself with people who realize that the music is always better when people are allowed to lean into their strengths.

To all my church gigging friends - may your Holy Week be musically meaningful. And to all the Miserere sopranos out there - may your high C's be beauteously float-y and gorgeously pure, vibrato or not.