Killing me softly with their self-indulgence
Can't singers restrict a syllable to just one note any more, or has the world gone melisma-mad, asks Simon Castles. There was an outbreak of melisma in Melbourne a few weeks back. Then the infection headed for Sydney via Townsville. It will cover the country before the Australian Idol auditions wrap up, and the show itself starts on telly in the second half of the year.
You may not know what melisma is, but you've seen it, heard it, whether you wished to or not. Melisma is the name given to that style of vocalising where a singer holds a syllable and stretches it over several notes. Where any vowel becomes an opportunity for a "run" up and down an octave or two.
Think of Whitney Houston quivering her way through I Will Always Love You (ou-ooo-aah-oou) for the film The Bodyguard. This was a while back - so long ago that Kevin Costner was a big and respected star, and Houston was known for her singing, not for what she ingested recreationally. Their careers died, melisma didn't.
Melisma just goes on and on, like a single syllable sung by Mariah Carey. Survivor Mariah has been the undisputed queen of melisma since her debut single, Vision of Love, in 1990. Years later, Beyonce Knowles would say, "After I heard Vision, I started doing runs". You, Beyonce, and every pop star wannabe in the freakin' world.
On Australian Idol they all do it. Well, nearly all. Shannon Noll never did melisma. It's just a pity his voice is equally grating: like a chainsaw bouncing down a staircase and into a bagpipe ensemble. But most of the Idol hopefuls set about slaughtering songs through melisma. They scream and embellish with pseudo passion, their voices full of jaw-quivering vibrato. They make big sounds that signify nothing, except the singer's need to grandstand. Notes are stretched and bent beyond recognition, as if the singer is desperately searching for a melody that neither they nor the audience can recall.
Australian Idol isn't really a singing competition; it's more akin to a sporting contest or magic show. The judges encourage and reward bright young things who perform tricks with their vocal cords. The teen audience whoops along, led to believe vocal callisthenics is what singing is all about.
The antecedent of melisma is surely the '80s guitar solo as performed by men with big permed hair and Spandex pants. Yet at some point we learned to laugh at this stuff, at dextrous axe solos that were nothing more than sonic masturbation by overgrown boys (take a bow Eddie Van Halen, Steve Vai et al). For some inexplicable reason, however, we continue to cheer singers who use their pipes for similar displays of public onanism. (The Age)
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