麻豆传媒

Read more of our Music Special Issue:

Are animals naturally musical?

The illusion of music 鈥� don鈥檛 believe everything you hear

Flexible scales and immutable octaves

Singing in the brain 鈥� music can change the way you think

Web exclusive 鈥� hear five great auditory illusions

CAN anyone learn to sing? It鈥檚 a question that haunted me as I was writing my most recent book . My research had persuaded me that musicality is deeply embedded in the human genome, with far more ancient evolutionary roots than spoken language. Yet here I was, unable to carry a tune or match a rhythm. Friends and academic colleagues claimed this was simply because I had been 鈥渢urned off鈥� from music as a child and if only I took a few lessons I would find my voice. Maybe they were right. So humiliated was I by music teachers who made me 鈥渟ing鈥� alone in front of the class that I dropped music at the first opportunity and haven鈥檛 participated in anything musical for over 35 years. Perhaps I could learn to sing.

The more I thought about it, the more I realised that here was an opportunity not to be missed. As well as testing whether I could improve my tone, pitch and rhythm, perhaps I could also find out what was happening inside my brain as I tried to learn how to sing. I had recently read an article by researcher , UK, entitled 鈥淭he song system of the human brain鈥�, and then met him at a conference. With the help of functional MRI he had begun to identify which areas of the brain are recruited when we engage with music. Some of these areas are evidently used for both music and other activities and some, such as the planum polare, in the temporal lobe, appear to be specialised for processing music. I wanted to know whether learning to sing could actually change the way my brain worked.

I emailed Larry just before Christmas in 2005, suggesting we collaborate on an experiment: I would have my brain scanned while singing, then take one year of singing lessons before having another scan to see whether anything had changed. Larry agreed, so I found myself a singing teacher, Pam Chilvers, and the three of us met early in 2006 to design the study. We agreed that I would be tested on eight technical exercises, covering various musical tasks such as sustaining a pitch, singing scales and in rhythm. I would also learn two songs: A Gaelic Blessing by John Rutter and Lascia ch鈥檌o pianga by Handel. Listening to Pam sing these reminded me about my motivation for writing my book: why should evolution have a created a species that can sing with such remarkable beauty?

Before the first scanning session I had a couple of lessons to get me used to singing and to provide the rudiments of reading music. I think Pam was shocked at my lack of ability 鈥� she is used to teaching experienced musicians and precocious children and hadn鈥檛 actually believed me when I had said that I couldn鈥檛 sing in tune or follow a rhythm. She soon learned better. The scan took place in June 2006 and was a gruelling experience. For hours, I lay flat on my back, singing the technical exercises and song excerpts that I could see projected on a screen above. Each piece had to be sung three times, with Larry tapping my toe to let me know when I should start and stop. Later, he would process the images, subtracting the average of those taken during singing from those at rest, to give snapshots of the mental activity involved.

Then began a year of lessons. Pam taught me about posture and breathing; she gave me tasks to help me sing in tune and to expand my range. Once my pitch had improved, we worked on rhythm, and then tone and dynamics. She was always encouraging and optimistic, whereas I was a pretty poor student 鈥� lacking in confidence, getting frustrated and probably not working as hard as I should. In The Singing Neanderthals I argued that singing is a means for achieving well-being through social bonding. Sadly, that was not my experience 鈥� I simply became cross, stressed and dissatisfied. My singing wasn鈥檛 good for my family life either, as my children didn鈥檛 appreciate the late night practising. Nevertheless, I persevered and although my progress was limited, I did actually begin to enjoy some aspects of the venture, especially Lascia ch鈥檌o pianga. On a few occasions when singing with my wife we both experienced fleeting feelings of emotional intimacy as our voices blended into one 鈥� but then I would stumble and the moment would be lost.

Encore!

The second brain scan, in July 2007, was as challenging as the first. We repeated the same technical exercises and song excerpts in exactly the same way. Lying still was even more frustrating than the last time because I had learned that moving my body was as important to singing as was flexing my vocal cords. I left the scanner feeling exhausted, but this time I was also elated that my work for the experiment was done. It was now over to Larry to compare my 鈥渂efore鈥� and 鈥渁fter鈥� scans to see whether the year of singing had changed my brain. I was doubtful, because I felt my singing had barely improved. So I was surprised when Larry told me that not only had there been significant changes in my brain activity, but that these fitted with his understanding of how the brain supports musical performance (see Diagram).

So, can anyone learn to sing? I am still not sure, but I did learn more about singing by spending a year trying to do it than in years reading about it. By understanding just how remarkably difficult it is to sing 鈥� to simultaneously and unconsciously manage pitch, rhythm, timbre, tone and dynamics 鈥� I am even more mystified as to why humans have evolved such an amazing ability.

Read more about music in our special issue

The Human Brain 鈥� With one hundred billion nerve cells, the complexity is mind-boggling. Learn more in our cutting edge special report.