Why can’t we sing in the time of COVID?
The fear that singing is high-risk has led governments to restrict people from choirs and from playing brass and wind instruments. How long must it go on?
When Astrid Jorgensen and friends set up the Pub Choir in Brisbane in 2017 the formula was as effective as it was brilliantly simple. Get a crowd of untrained singers together in a room and lead them in singing a popular song as a choir. Together, they’d belt out hits by artists such as Powderfinger, Cyndi Lauper and Crowded House, learning a new song each night.
No doubt the beer helps, but something quite miraculous happens when people come together in song. Singing voices, constricted and suppressed since school days, suddenly come into flower. Happiness spreads through the room. Friends are made.
“Singing with strangers, it feels like an out-there thing to do in normal life, but when you’ve got dim lights, and you might have a beer in your hand, it’s a really nice way to make friends,” Jorgensen says.
“Maybe this isn’t conscious in people’s minds, but it’s giving them a sense of musical achievement that they might not necessarily have access to. Everyone enjoys listening to music, but actually creating a musical performance, I think that’s quite a rare thing for the people who come to our shows. Singing in harmony is very different from singing alone in the shower, it’s a really good feeling.”
Singing in groups has social, emotional and even spiritual benefits. But with the continued lockdown in Victoria, bans on larger gatherings in other states, and health advice against singing in public or in groups, this pleasurable and life-affirming activity has all but stopped.
The risk is that singers expel water vapour and spittle (“aerosols”) when they sing. If a singer has coronavirus, there’s a danger their aerosols will come into contact with other people and spread the infection.
In Queensland, entertainment venues can operate at reduced capacity to limit the risk of community transmission. Leaving aside the financial viability of running venues half-empty, an event such as Pub Choir loses its essential atmosphere if the room is less than full.
It thrives on what Jorgensen calls “vocal anonymity”. Whatever fears or inhibitions an individual may have about singing in public, they are covered by the enveloping and protective sound of the group.
“The success of our events is all about having your voice blend in with others, and feeling you are something bigger than yourself,” Jorgensen says.
“It takes the pressure off untrained individuals, so they can feel that they are still contributing and succeeding, because they are being carried by all the voices around them.
“For us, until we can be back inside, in a comfortable venue, and people can stand shoulder to shoulder, our choir doesn’t exist.”
Social distancing and health advice against singing also has affected choirs in very different settings. Sydney’s oldest inner-city church, St James King Street, has a proud musical tradition that dates back to convict choristers in the 1820s. Music, and especially the Choir of St James with 12 full-time singers, is an essential part of worship in the church’s high Anglican services, including the choral Eucharist on Sundays and Evensong.
Head of music at St James, Warren Trevelyan-Jones, says the choir has been reduced to as few as two singers for Sunday services in line with health regulations. Such a small choir, if two singers can indeed be called a choir, is not able to sing the complex Renaissance polyphony that is one of the glories of church music. At Sunday’s service, a small choir of four sang a mass setting by English composer Charles Wood, with the singers at least 15m from the socially distanced congregation.
The restrictions have forced Trevelyan-Jones to look at lesser-known corners of the repertoire, while the sound of a full-voiced choir has been absent from services and the congregation is forbidden from singing hymns.
“We’ve had an arm cut off,” Trevelyan-Jones says. “The sort of service that St James has is culturally very rich. It’s also a piece of theatre — and without all the ingredients that go into that, it becomes very flat.
“At St James we have professional choristers, it’s their livelihoods. They can’t work from home, they have to come to the church. We have pledged that we will pay all the choristers their usual salary, the church will bear the cost.”
In addition to his responsibilities as a church musician, Trevelyan-Jones is director of the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra Chorus. It was to have been a busy year for the MSO Chorus and for other choral groups, not least the Sydney Philharmonia Choirs, which is marking its centenary. The 250th anniversary of Beethoven’s birth was to have been an occasion for performances of the composer’s greatest musical statement, the Choral symphony. Performances of that masterwork have been cancelled in Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane and other cities worldwide.
But there is confusion among music professionals about the health risks of singing in public, especially when compared with some other activities that have been allowed to resume in some states.
The risk of choirs as a source of community transmission became a hot topic in March with the case of the Skagit Valley Chorale, in Washington state in the US northwest. A choir rehearsal turned deadly when about 50 of the 60 singers in attendance later tested positive for COVID-19. Two singers died.
At that point in the pandemic, advice from the World Health Organisation was that airborne transmission of coronavirus by aerosols was unlikely. It was thought the virus was spread through heavy droplets — such as when someone coughs or sneezes — and from contaminated surfaces.
But the tragedy at the Skagit Valley Chorale strongly suggested that airborne aerosols were to blame. In a scientific brief published on July 9 the WHO updated its advice to recognise the possibility of transmission via aerosols, and mentioned choirs as a risk: “Some outbreak reports related to indoor crowded spaces have suggested the possibility of aerosol transmission, combined with droplet transmission, for example, during choir practice, in restaurants or in fitness classes.”
A British study led by ear, nose and throat specialist Declan Costello has measured the amount of aerosols and droplets produced when someone sings, compared with speaking and breathing. The fear that singing is high-risk has led governments to restrict people from singing and from playing brass and wind instruments, which also produces aerosols.
“Consequently,” the study’s authors write, “large sections of the cultural sector, along with religious institutions and educational establishments, were unable to rehearse and perform, resulting in profound artistic, cultural, spiritual, emotional and social impacts.”
Scientists worked with a group of 25 professional singers — from musical theatre, choirs, opera, rock music and other genres — and asked them to speak and sing at different volumes into a funnel connected to highly sensitive measuring instruments. The study found that while singing produces more aerosol particles than speech, the much greater concentration of particles happens when people sing loudly or shout.
Guidelines to limit exposure to coronavirus, the authors write, should focus not so much on the “type of vocalisation”, but on other factors such as volume, duration, the number of people and whether it is happening indoors or outdoors.
The Adelaide Chamber Singers, an ensemble of 18 voices, recently has returned to public performances and gave a concert last Friday at the Art Gallery of South Australia. Its founder, Carl Crossin, says the advice he’s received from medical specialists is that research on the risks of singing is inconclusive. With a group of other choir leaders, and working with local health authorities, he is trying to establish a pathway for choirs to return to rehearsals and performances.
“It’s an attempt to get some clarity around what is otherwise a fairly confusing set of regulations,” he says.
“When guidelines come out from health departments, they mention a lot of the usual things — sport always gets a mention, and weddings and funerals. But very few people have specifically focused on choral singing or music-making except in a negative sense. This may be a controversial statement, but my understanding is that there is probably as much evidence for and against, but there is yet to be enough research to be conclusive about choral singing.”
Jorgensen says it makes no sense that people can cheer their lungs out at a sport match, but it’s dangerous to sing. Given the social distancing requirements in Brisbane, the Pub Choir has moved online and, as the Couch Choir, has attracted 15,000 participants around the world. The latest event was an online rendition of the Turtles’ Happy Together.
“Even if we can’t share that physical sensation of singing together in harmony, the mental health benefits are definitely real,” she says. “Singing still exists, even though we can’t be physically near each other.”
