Melisma
I’m finding that a lot of R&B singing grates on my nerves the last, oh, 15 years or so. Some of that, I’ll admit up front, is my middle-aged “these-kids-today…” sort of thing (if I could afford a lawn, I’d be shooing kids off of it.) But a lot has to do with the infuriating overuse of something that, properly used, can be a valuable part of a good singer’s tool chest; melisma.
Melisma is singing more than one note during one syllable of a lyric. For example, the first word of the National Anthem (“Oh…”) has two descending notes: that’s Melisma. The use of melisma in much of American pop music is due to the forms of music from which it is derived, especially black Gospel music.
Blues and R&B great Etta James used melisma with devastating effect – she is one of the great singers in the history of American Popular music. Her Chess recordings from the early sixties are particularly legendary: her performance of “All I Could Do Was Cry” is both breathtakingly intimate and vividly expressive: it communicates pain with a plain, harrowing directness that other singers might find too revealing to attempt – but her skillful use of melisma serves the song: showing off is the furthest thing from her mind. She is crying out in anguish:
Her delightful “If I Can’t Have You” duet with Harvey Fuqua is another gem – it is fun to hear him try to keep up with the colossal talent with which he’s singing, and Etta singing rings around him, imparting a sense to the song’s story-arc that Fuqua’s character is in way over his head, but can’t believe his luck just the same.
Her ballads are monuments of their type – Etta’s well-known performance of “At Last,” in spite of its lush instrumental setting, is transcendent, intimate and heartrending; the song of a woman who has suffered much, but is now blissful at having finally found a rock in the storm.
Listen to these songs, and then think of, say, Mariah Carey who, like James, uses melisma and other flourishes of Gospel singing, but unlike Etta she uses it to point to her own (undeniable) virtuosity, rather than in humble service to the song. If even half the R&B belters out there had Etta James’ ability to express angst or well-earned joy, and could restrain their diva tendencies – if they could humble themselves in the service of the song – top-40 radio could be a wonderland.
Christ said, “He who would lead, let him serve.” Singers, at their best, serve the listener by communicating some truth that is inexpressible with words alone. To be a great singer, you must put yourself aside and let the song shine. To be a great Christian, you must put yourself aside and let Christ shine.
Okay, one more: Sam Cooke was a master of Melisma. The following performance is just breathtaking:
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This is so true! It’s hard to believe the same term (melisma) can be applied to what Etta James or Sam Cooke were doing in these performances and what many performers, who seem to believe they are being paid by the note, are doing today. Although I can imagine many people who read Vox Nova will hate it, I would put Lorraine Ellison’s performance of Stay with Me in a class with the above two selections. Ellison is not showing off. She’s giving us raw emotion.
I have always found the embellishment of melodies to be a fascinating topic. In popular music, some singers (like Ella Fitzgerald) can make a song very much their own without discarding what the composer wrote and starting over. Others just make me cringe and say, “If the composer wanted it to sound like that, he or she would have written it that way.” I remember being in a store and hearing Mel Tormé getting to the end of a very bouncy rendition of I’ll Be Seeing You and singing, “I’ll be looking at the moon [beat - beat - beat] I’ll be looking at the moon [beat - beat - beat] I’ll be looking at the moon [beat - beat - beat] but I’ll be seeing you!” (I end my own tribute version to Mel Tormé with, “But I’ll be seeing Y — O — U — yeah!”)
Of course, baroque and bel canto opera involved a great deal of ornamentation and improvisation on the part of singers, but unlike popular singers of today, the opera singers of those eras were expected to sing exactly what the composer wrote the first time through, so you got to hear the composer’s version at least once. I am no great expert, but I believe singers performing those roles today have all of the “improvisation” written for them in advance, although occasionally I believe singers (particularly in competitive situations) interpolate a high note without planning it in advance.
Thanks for the response David – The key is to save melisma for moments of tension or catharsis – restraint is the key.
This seems to be a frequent flaw when whites attempt to render black musical forms. Listen to Buddy Guy’s guitar playing, and then to Stevie Ray Vaughn’s – while Stevie was undeniably talented, Guy is spare, understated…and all the more devastating for the restraint. Even his silence swings.
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