“The secret of life is honesty and fair dealing. If you can fake that, you’ve got it made.” Groucho Marx
We all have people in our lives who claim to be honest. They crow about it, especially if they have said something unkind in the name of honesty. They tell us, if being honest makes it seem they are unkind, they can’t help others not being able to handle it. I think if being “totally honest” makes you appear to be a jerk, you are a jerk.
Rob* contacted me recently with a dilemma. He decided last year to be totally honest in every aspect of his life and now his church choir is rebelling. He wants to know how to get them to accept his honesty in the spirit is it being given. And what’s that, I asked him. He’s honest, he replied.
Right here and now, I want to state my opinion on honesty in the choral rehearsal; I think we, as directors/conductors, should always be honest. But I also believe, as directors/conductors, we have a duty not only to be honest but to be constructive with our honesty. What do I mean?
After some back and forth I think I understand what Rob means by “being honest” with his church choir. He wants his choir to be realistic about their capabilities and accept criticism, as I understand. When he tells them they’ve made a mistake or that they don’t sound good vocally, he wants them to own up to it and correct it. And how should they correct it? Rob says they just should. I asked Rob how his choir should correct themselves if he doesn’t tell/show them how; he was confused by my question.
As an example, Rob tells me his soprano section seemed offended recently when he told them they were too shrill in a certain part of one of their well-known and liked anthems. They’ve sung this anthem for many years and for some reason, this part has always been a sticking point. He wasn’t honest with them before and now that he is being honest, they can’t handle it. I asked him how he handled it before and he tells me he didn’t. He didn’t correct them in the past, since the high-lying pitches of this particular part were essentially right but the vocal sound was strained and shrill. Now he wants to be honest and they seem upset. Sheesh.
I suggested, instead of telling them at this late date they are shrill (and always have been) on this part, how about showing them how to correct their shrillness? Or not pointing out they’ve always been shrill? Simply say something like, “let’s try it this time with a loose jaw or tongue forward or more breath or relax your neck/throat,” might make the soprano section less on the defense and get what you want from them.
I think many conductors want folks to know they KNOW there was a mistake, as if that makes people think they are better musicians and leaders. Declaring you are being “totally honest” seems the perfect way to show it. But simply correcting a note, a rhythm, a vocal production issue and not being blatantly blunt and “honest” with an unhelpful comment might solve the problem and not cause another. It’s not as glamorous or clever but it reduces stress and earns respect.
*Name Withheld
Elizabeth Alexander says
Thank you for this, Marie. Yours is a strong and gentle reminder for our time, and for all times. As someone who has in the past been “honest to a fault,” I found it tremendously challenging and humbling when I came across this maxim over a decade ago: “Honesty without compassion is violence.” Those words changed the way I try to be in the world, in a profound way.
(In various forms, the quote above has been attributed to dozens of original sources. A more nuanced version — which may be helpful for people who “make nice” to a fault — is attributed to Warren W. Wiersbe: “Truth without love is brutality, and love without truth is hypocrisy.”)