Look. I get it. I really, really do.
But we have to take a step back from the arms race towards uniquely treble-heavy, throaty voices.
It's not a new phenomenon- in fact, it's ticked on quietly since the beginning. In 1952, John Raitt took the climax of Carousel's legendary "Soliloquy" up to a high Bb. In 1970, Ian Gillian screamed out an epic, full-throated G in Jesus Christ Superstar's "Gethsemane". What do A Little Night Music (1973) and Les Misérables (1980) have in common? Big fat Bs, that's what, in "Who am I" and "Later" respectively. And that's only the low voices.
Such athleticism has always been inherently dramatic and deeply thrilling, and while vocal technique may have changed, the reasonable limits and reachable extremes of the human throat have not. Plus, the Mister Golightlys of the world make up their own delightful cottage industry. I'm not against this phenomenon- of deploying superstar notes on superstar vocalists for exceptional theatrical effect.
What troubles me is when notes that were once extremes become expectations. A decade ago, tenor repertoire regularly topped out at Gs and As. Massively popular, and massively marketed, shows like Dear Evan Hansen and Moulin Rogue pushed that envelope to Bbs and Bs; now, the ubiquity of pieces written like The Great Gatsby, The Lost Boys, and Two Strangers Carry A Cake Across New York suggest that the genie has left the bottle. All the while, the number of roles for the outermost vocal extremes- basses and head-heavy sopranos- have dwindled dramatically. (I suspect this is because these voices are at their most thrilling when they're most relaxed, which thwarts a contemporary audience's taste for strain. As Sting puts it, there's no such thing as a heavy metal baritone.)
These standards are harmful for three major reasons (though I'd love to hear more in the comments):
1) Few singers can do it. When you write for remarkably virtuosic vocalists, not only do you limit the number of professionals willing to take your work on, you also make the piece inaccessible to amateur spaces. What's to be done: Cap your tenors at a G or A, cap your altos at a C or D.
2) It's unhealthy. No voice is too gifted to be overtaxed. Especially in a commercial context, where performers are singing eight shows a week and not infrequently rehearsing or teaching during the day, the risk for fatigue and damage is substantial, and is its own stressor on top of the score's demands. (I mean, listen to Eden Espinoza post-Lempicka. But apparently she asked for it.) What's to be done: Normalize doublecasting intense vocal tracks, so that no single performer is expected to push their limits eight shows a week.
3) It sounds homogenous. The voices that are, and can be, cultivated to operate comfortably in extreme high registers tend to be timbrally light, even thin. A well-rounded cast counterweights treble, and provides a sense of contrast that keeps the ear more fully engaged. What's to be done: Commit to writing for a variety of voices, not only in range, but in style.
We songwriters are the job-creators. We have the power and the responsibility to make these changes, for the better of the musical theatre cultural ecosystem. I, for one, am going to do my part.
...right after OVERMAN.
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