The Wolf in the Voice: let's us see them sweat
16 Feb 2025 - Photos by Jae Yang

In the lobby pre-show, Thom Allison (La Cage Aux Folles, Rent, Mary Poppins, Killjoys, Elegies Ragtime), who is billed as an associate artist in the creation of The Wolf in the Voice, said, "I can't wait for people to finally see this . . . this . . . I don't know quite what to call it." Having seen, been entertained by and ultimately moved by The Wolf in the Voice, I am in a similar quandary. Part lecture on the physical requirements of singing, part masterclass on the art of singing, part personal reminisces on how singing transformed the lives of the performers, and most of all, lots of glorious singing, The Wolf in the Voice is a delightful hybrid. It resembles the act of great singing itself, technically tight to avoid being off-pitch or rhythm, but wonderfully ramshackle, and deceptively casual, so that the emotion and sincerity shines through. Co-creators Martin Julien (The Man Who Got Away, Stopheart) and Brian Quint, with suspected significant collaboration from the performers and Allison, have produced an ode to the joy and hard work that goes into singing. With a thematic through line of how transformative and human an artform it is.

The audience arrives to find the three performers grouped on stage around a piano. They are doing, a little self-consciously though that quickly dissipates, what singers do in groups: testing harmonies, showing off, ribbing each other, and constantly, constantly, warming up for what is ahead. From there they launch into a three part rendition of Gilbert and Sullivan's "Three Little Maids From School We Are," that bends genres from operetta to Broadway belting to scatting to barbershop to gospel and everywhere in between. If the point is to show that these performers are incredibly versatile, it works, but it also shows us just how intertwined all musical forms are. And how infinitely adaptable. From there, in short scenes utilizing Rebecca Picherack's surprise-filled set and lighting, we learn how the vocal folds work among many other fascinating facts, and are introduced to the dreaded "wolf in the voice." The wolf in the voice is also known as the "break," that point in singing scales where one must shift from chest voice to head voice.

Unfortunately, demonstrations of how dastardly that wolf is come up short—the singers sound great—rendering much of the intended drama moot. Anyone nitpicking may notice but the crucial point is that the entire show is placed in the singers' breaks. Because that is where the interesting stuff, the human stuff, happens. A singer, unless they are showboating or Mariah Carey, works very hard to make sure the audience doesn't see them sweat or struggle with a note or phrase. These performers let us see them sweat and are all the more remarkable for that. Though I hate personal interjections, at this point I should note that as a singer who had to work really hard and go through lots of teachers in order to acquire, find, my vocal capabilities and make them palatable to an audience, I may have identified a little too closely with the performers. However the rest of the audience seemed as captivated as I was, and I have never seen, or heard, an audience so enthusiastic to join in on sing-a-longs and demonstrations.

The performers are all seasoned singers who have done their time in the chorus, ensembles and as leads. I'm sure they all have many more war stories than just the ones that are presented. And they all have, as previously stated, glorious voices attached to engaging personalities. Jane Miller is an alto and her demonstration of an alto's plight is a comic highlight. She also has the starkest warning about abusing one's vocal instrument with a simple but horrifying punchline to a memory.  Neema Bickersteth (The Cave) is an operatic soprano and at first appears reserved and regal. That disappears whenever she sings—an astonishing sound that fills the theatre—and can't help but smile at our amazement. A quintessential little girl with a big voice, she is also very proud of her biceps that provide a hilarious illustration of an anatomical lecture. Taurian Teelucksingh doesn't need to warm up his personality, it can barely be contained. Winking, laughing, jazz handing and always in motion, he is a leading man with a leading man's voice who prefers to be the genial sidekick who steals the spotlight. 

All three bend their voices to a cavalcade of songs and song fragments, frequently launching into impeccable harmonies. They include the audience in a round that far from dreaded audience participation, becomes involving and fun. They dispense science and pseudo-science with heaping spoonfuls of soulful and precise singing with a side order of clown. A dramatic rendition of the bombastic "Bat Out of Hell" is conjured up using only their voices and dramatic presentation. Walking that line between satire and heartfelt admiration. Miller takes the lead on a version of Annie Lennox's "Why" that demonstrates how a syllable with melody can become a hook, how all the elements of a production contribute. The Wolf in the Voice climaxes with a rendition of "Believe" (not the iconic Cher track but rather the standard from The Wiz) that, while not intellectually supported by what has preceded works on an emotional gut punch level, leaving the audience, well, believing in themselves. And certainly less frightened by wolves.