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Declaring that fear is the biggest enemy of performance, Burns says she wants to "get rid of stage fright and turn it into stage delight." But she doesn't stop there. She asks each student in the circle to express his or her debilitating fear. The answers include forgetting lyrics, dry mouth, failing to breathe, throat closing up, and sweaty palms. To combat those mental and physical states, Burns invokes her method of eliminating stage fright, a simple strategy of confronting and embracing the fear. When someone mentions sweaty palms, she has the person intone, "Hello, sweaty palms!" Forgetting lyrics? "Hello, forgetting lyrics!"
And so on, for a litany that sounds simple-minded in theory but in practice seems to have the reassuring effect Burns seeks. The participants do a fair amount of laughing along with her and greeting one another with hugs. What comes across is that they're all in each other's corner. What also comes across is that vocal quality is not the primary objective here; it's dedication to making the best of each individual's wherewithal Under Burns' sympathetic eye, the students are respectful of one another's goals.
Clearly, The Singing Experience moniker is accurate. Burns wants the students to have the experience of singing-- to hear themelves in front of others, often after having been told they can't sing. Each workshop is a six-week package ending with a performance and then a party at Burns' loft, where the main attraction is watching a videotape of the performance. The deal for newcomers is $475; for previous graduates it's $425. and graduates stick around. As of this writing, one has clocked 108 consecutive classes. Newcomers enroll sometimes only with a phone interview. "I don't believe in auditioning for a class they have to pay for," Burns says.  For the class at hand, Burns wants to settle on the song each will sing at the October performance of Autumn Serenade at The Triad. It'll kick off with the entire ensemble crooning "On a Wonderful Day Like Today: and end with "Autumn in New York." But before Burns gets to that, she says she wants to say "a few words on mike technique." Whereupon she launches into an on-the-money series of dos and don'ts. She takes a microphone stand and suggests that when raising the adjustable stem, the singer should never tighten the clasp so hard that loosening it becomes awkward. She says it's important that once the mike has been removed from the stand, the stand is moved aside. "You gotta see the mouth in cabaret," she declares, demonstrating how awkward it is for a singer to hold the mike directly in front of his or her mouth, "Do not play with the cord," she says. "Lock in your elbows....None of that lounge stuff." Then it's time for longtime class vet Ivan Farkas to show the others where he's gotten with "Sam, You Made the Pants Too Long," which he does with enthusiasm. Finished, he listens to what the class has to say. "You're way off melody," one states. "We're not seeing the usual Ivan," another suggests. Many of the others nod and murmur in concurrence. Farkas listens attentively. Burns monitors it all with 30 years of teaching experience informing her guidance. Later, when discussing how her enterprise grew, she says, "At first I did it out of my apartment, because no nightclub would do it." That's until she found an outlet on West 57th Street called The Fives. "When 300 people showed up, every club said, "Whatever you want.'" Noting that some of her singers take the course merely to challenge themselves, she says, "their lives change; they accomplish something they never thought they could." Burns believes she can make her students look good with one song, but she isn't necessarily aiming to turn every one in to a professional cabaret singer. "What is your goal?" she asks, and "50 percent want to do an act." She adds that "when they see what it takes, most of them (demur) and say, 'All right, thank you.'" But those who persevere she's ready to send to voice teachers for vocal finishing, to give private lessons to, to direct. "I've directed over 400 acts," she reports. Many of the acts she develops feature recent graduates. Anne Ellithore-Luker, one of the Autumn Serenade troupe, has a November solo date at the Duplex. She met Burns through a friend and calls the class "helpful" and Burns "supportive." The Philadelphia-based singer is one of the 50 percent who knew she wanted to do a cabaret act, and she understood the rigors. For her the class offered "the opportunity to try out songs and patter in front of people." She likes the fact that the students represent "a gamut." As Burns finishes chatting about her commitment to the experience of singing, she says-and meant it--"If people were singing, they wouldn't fighting." # # #
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