Archive for May 2009

Call me Ignatz

May 29, 2009

I’ve encountered my first obstacle in choosing a text for my entry in Scott Brick’s audiobook narration contest

…finding a good book that Scott Brick didn’t narrate.

That’s not as inconsiderable a task as one might think. It is, from my perspective, an important one.

After all, if you were a contestant on American Idol, you’d be foolhardy to select a Journey or Westlife song as your audition piece, or a song that Kara DioGuardi wrote, or a song that Paula Abdul had lip-synched (did I say that?).

Why? Because you’re being judged by people who are intimately familiar with the material, have an emotional connection to it, and most significantly, have a strongly developed idea about the way the song ought to be performed. A way that — good, bad or indifferent — probably will be different from your own.

Therefore, I can’t imagine that a tyro like me would be well served by trying to out-Brick the master.

The challenge is that Scott has previously narrated books by many of the authors whose works I’d love to read — Harlan Coben, Dennis Lehane, Rex Pickett, and Isaac Asimov, to name just four. Even the book I’m currently using for my daily workouts — Erik Larsen’s The Devil in the White City — was recorded by Scott. (I am assiduously avoiding Scott’s version until I’ve finished with the text.)

Never fear, though. I have a handful of solid prospects in mind. I plan to make a final choice in the next week, giving myself ample time to select a suitable passage in time for the contest’s June 10 kickoff.

I’ll just have to hope that, whatever I pick, Scott doesn’t get to it first.

Positive direction

May 22, 2009

My four-week workshop on self-directing skills has concluded, and what have I learned?

That my self-directing skills need work.

Not that that’s a shocker.

Actually, I’m proud of the work I did during these four weeks. My script analysis, though still light-years from perfection, is improving. I’m getting better at asking the right questions about the copy in front of me, and coming up with answers that align with the copywriter’s intention (as opposed to what I would prefer to do). At the same time, I’m finding more success at not overthinking my way into performance paralysis.

I’m also finding myself more consistent. I’m having fewer truly wretched first takes, and more frequent final takes that would be strongly competitive in the marketplace. And with less adjustment needed in between.

So that’s progress.

I received an encouraging compliment last evening from another student who’s already a working pro: “You make good choices before you go into the booth.” If that’s evident to anyone besides myself, I must be doing at least a few things well.

Two months ago, I wouldn’t have been able to say that.

My audiobook workshop, originally scheduled to start next week, has been rescheduled for late June. That means I’m entirely on my own for workouts over the next month. I have a plan for approaching this time period that I’m looking forward to implementing. (One of the things I’ll be working on is my entry for Scott Brick’s audiobook narration contest.) I now have ample tools, gained in my classes since the first of this year, that I’ll spend focused hours sharpening each day.

Besides which, the extra month will give me time to come up with a plausible excuse for forgetting Lisa Baney’s name in front of Scott Brick.

What’s your chain?

May 20, 2009

The other day, I was musing about the fact that, even though I hold a four-year degree in broadcast communications (from San Francisco State University‘s acclaimed Broadcast and Electronic Communication Arts department, no less), my technical skills are rudimentary, to be polite.

Okay, I’ll confess… I sleepwalked through my audio production classes. (Ask Professor John Barsotti if you think I’m kidding.)

Since getting into the VO field, I’ve been wishing that I’d paid more attention in those classes. Yes, they were a quarter of a century ago (egad!), and audio technology has changed immeasurably in that time. Still, I’m sure that the basic principles would be standing me in good stead now… if only I could remember them.

Wherever voice actors congregate, whether in meatspace or cyberspace, they love to talk tools. Microphones, preamps, digital audio interfaces, recording software — all are grist for the VO chat mill. Taken together, the various elements used to capture, preserve, and manipulate a vocal performance are called a recording chain. Thus, at the voice actors’ watering hole, the traditional pickup line, “What’s your sign?” gets transmogrified into, “What’s your chain?”

In case anyone’s interested, here’s my chain.

I own two microphones, mostly because they cost about the same, and at the time I was putting my setup together, I couldn’t decide which I preferred.

The mic I use most frequently is a Rode NT1-A, a steady, solid performer that’s quite flattering to my individual vocal characteristics. The NT1A adds a pleasant richness to the lower end of my range, and is my go-to mic for most copy when I’m using my natural voice or a close permutation thereof.

My second mic is a Studio Projects C1, another fine piece of equipment that emphasizes the brighter notes in my tessitura. I’ll often plug in the C1 when I’m working on character scripts, or copy where I’d like to have more youthful sparkle in my sound. The C1 is also the mic I use on the rare occasion when I record myself singing.

Since my home office doubles as my studio, and the space lacks acoustical treatment of any kind, I surround my mic with a RealTraps Portable Vocal Booth. It’s not exactly like being in a fully treated environment, but for my money, it’s the next best thing.

My preamp and digital audio interface are the same simple device: a cEntrance MicPort Pro. This phenomenal little gizmo shoulders triple duty in my chain. It (1) provides 48 volt phantom power to my mic of choice; (2) converts the microphone output into binary code so that my computer can understand and manage it, via a USB port; and (3) provides a headphone output for either monitoring (which I don’t use; I don’t like to wear my cans when I voice) or playback (which I do use). Most amazingly, the MicPort Pro handles all of these tasks in a sleek, compact unit the size of a cigar. It adds no discernable color to the recording — just serves up clean, accurate sound. And, it’s small and lightweight enough that I can toss it into my briefcase to record when I’m traveling. Everyone who records into a computer should own one of these.

I use the simplest and most basic recording software available: Audacity, available as a free download all over the ‘Net. So far, I haven’t needed anything more elaborate. One of these days, though, I’d like to upgrade to Adobe Audition, if only because that’s what the engineers at Voicetrax use, and I’d like to be able to understand what they’re doing when I’m in the booth.

As noted above, I don’t often wear headphones when I record. Doing so feels awkward and unnatural to me, and introduces an unnecessary stumbling block to my performing. Since I don’t own a set of studio monitors, however, I do use my cans (that’s tech talk for “headphones,” a vestige of my long-ago radio days) for playback and editing. Mine are Sennheiser HD 280 Professionals — comfortable, clear, and efficiently noise-dampening.

My notebook computer is a Dell Inspiron 9400, running the much-detested (at least, by me) Windows Vista. My aging eyes love its ginormous 19″ display.

That’s my chain. It’s inexpensive and simple, but it works for me — and that’s the bottom line.

Horatio

May 15, 2009

At last evening’s workshop, one of my fellow actors shared an epiphany she’d experienced in a private coaching session earlier in the day.

“How would you describe yourself?” the coach had asked her.

“Strong,” my colleague replied. “Authoritative. Forceful.”

“But you’re not that way at all,” said the coach. “You’re funny. Friendly. Lively. Engaging. And warm.”

“Then I realized,” continued my actor friend, “that I was describing the persona I put on when I’m at work. That’s how I think of myself. But that’s not the person I really am. Or, at least, it’s not the entire person I am.”

I’ve come to that same realization along my voice acting journey. There are aspects of my existence where I put on, not a false front, but a persona designed to craft a certain perception. Certainly, that persona is a facet of me, but it’s not the complete me — nor even the greater portion of me.

The me that comes out at the microphone is often quite different from the me that I once expected to find there. Like my friend, I anticipated a voice that would project the aura that I often project in my non-acting life. But the microphone reveals facets of my personality that I often conceal — some, in fact, that I didn’t even know were in there.

More often than not, it is those hidden facets that seem the easiest, the most transparent, in the voiceover booth. It’s those voices and colors that shine in my performances, whereas those that I am more accustomed to exposing in daily life require far more nuance to ring true.

As Hamlet once said, “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

It appears that there are more things within each of us than we’ve dreamt of, as well.

The Voiceover Entrance Exam

May 6, 2009

Every now and again, I read something that makes me say to myself, “I wish I’d written that.”

Today’s entry into this continually expanding category is The Voiceover Entrance Exam, a brilliantly succinct, pull-no-punches e-book that every — and yes, I do mean every — new or aspiring voiceover talent should devour like a hunk of medium rare prime rib. (Or tofu, if that’s how you roll.)

The author of this brisk slap in the face is Peter O’Connell, a veteran VO talent and producer who really knows his stuff. I’ve been a fan of Peter’s blog for some time now, and have learned a tremendous amount from his posts there and at the various VO forums around the ‘Net.

My “I wish I’d written that” is entirely wishful thinking, of course. Because I lack Peter’s depth of experience and insider’s perspective on this crazy business, there’s no way I could have written anything close to his eye-opening treatise.

But I’m grateful that Peter did.

Did I mention that The Voiceover Entrance Exam is a free download? You know my motto: If it’s free, it’s for me. This one’s for you, too, because we’re just all generous like that.

While you’re at Peter’s site, take a browse through the other blog posts, articles, and other resources available there. You can tell him The Mic Guy sent you.

Tell the story!

May 5, 2009

Here’s irony for you: I’m a voice actor who was just assigned to help coach visual presentation.

In my case, that’s not really so peculiar. I’ve been a public speaker and stage performer for decades longer than I’ve been a voice actor. By conservative estimate, I’ve delivered in the neighborhood of 5,000 presentations before audiences ranging in size from a half-dozen to several thousand. As a facet of my communications consulting practice, I also coach businesspeople on individual speaking and presentation skills.

So, when the musical leadership of my Internationally ranked a cappella chorus, Voices in Harmony, asked me to join a newly formed visual coaching team, it made at least a little bit of sense.

In truth, performance is performance, whether executed in front of a live audience, a camera, or a microphone. It’s all about unlocking the freedom to openly express one’s inward thoughts and emotions. That freedom comes more naturally to some people than to others — I’m fortunate to be one of those to whom it “just happens.” But I’m convinced that anyone who wants to be an effective performer can become one, with training and practice.

The venue, however, makes a difference as well.

I was surprised, given the depth and diversity of my performing and speaking experience, how intimidated I was the first few times I stepped into a voiceover booth and found myself staring a studio microphone in the diaphragm. I’m completely fearless on stage, but I discovered that the combination of mic, script, pop filter, and dead acoustical space unnerved me just a little.

That is, until I reminded myself that performing is performing… because performing is communicating… and communicating is communicating.

In the booth, my mission is the same as it is when I’m standing behind a lectern, or wandering a dais, or acting on a stage, or even singing on chorus risers: Tell the story. The techniques may differ from one setting to another, but the goal does not: Tell the story. As long as I remember to tell the story, my voice — like my face and body — knows exactly what to do. I don’t need to analyze it. I don’t need to micromanage it.

I just need to tell the story.

That’s what I hope to share with my chorus mates as we prepare for this year’s competition cycle. Performance is not about mechanics. It’s not about rote memory, or choreographic precision.

Just tell the story.

If you do that one thing, everything else will fall into place.