An upcoming concert I’m singing in, which is dedicated to the memories of loved ones who have passed away, brought to mind my own beloved mentors — those musical guides whose voices still resonate in my memory. Among the songs we’re performing is La Martiniana from David Conte’s Three Mexican Folk Songs arrangement, with lyrics translated:
“Do not cry for me, no do not cry for me
Because if you cry I will keep suffering
On the contrary, if you sing to me
I will always live, I will never die.”
Those lines struck me deeply. They reminded me that the truest way to honor those who came before us — those who taught, inspired, and believed in us — is not through sorrow, but through song. When we continue their work, share their lessons, and sing the music they loved, they live on in us. This reflection led me to think about mentorship in the choral world — how profoundly it shapes who we are as singers, and how vital it is that we pass on the wisdom we’ve been given.
Choral singing is, by nature, communal. Each singer’s sound becomes part of a larger tapestry, just as each generation’s artistry becomes part of the ongoing evolution of choral tradition. When we step into a rehearsal space, we inherit more than just our part of the score — we inherit a way of being: how to breathe together, how to listen, how to blend, and how to interpret music with both intellect and heart.
Many of us can recall that one mentor — the conductor who believed in us before we believed in ourselves, the section leader who modeled how to mark a score efficiently, or the coach who taught us how to connect emotionally to text. These mentors shaped not only how we sing but who we are as musicians. Their guidance becomes part of our inner voice, a quiet reminder to stay disciplined, compassionate, and curious.
Even when our mentors are no longer with us — whether they have retired, moved on, or passed away — their influence remains. Every time we recall their phrasing of a passage, their insistence on clear diction, or their belief in the transformative power of ensemble singing, we keep their memory alive. In this way, mentorship in choral singing becomes an act of remembrance, an ongoing song that transcends generations.
The first skill any good chorister develops is listening — truly listening. This extends beyond intonation and rhythm; it’s about attunement to others. Mentorship in the choral world mirrors this same principle. The best mentors don’t just tell; they listen. They hear where a young singer is struggling, notice where confidence falters, and guide gently without judgment.
Likewise, those being mentored must listen — not only to instruction but to the subtler lessons about professionalism, patience, and humility. Watching how an experienced singer interacts with a conductor, how they prepare their scores, or how they handle a mistake can be as valuable as any formal lesson. Mentorship often happens in the quiet moments: a whispered reminder about posture before an entrance, a reassuring nod during a difficult section, or a shared breath before a pianissimo ending.
In choral music, we often dedicate performances to those who inspired us or who are no longer with us. But true honor extends beyond dedication; it lives in how we embody their teachings. Singing with integrity, showing up prepared, and giving our best effort are all ways we honor the mentors who gave us their time, energy, and passion.
When we strive for excellence, we echo their standards. When we extend kindness to a nervous newcomer, we mirror the compassion they once showed us. Every moment we invest in keeping a choir strong — in maintaining its musical and interpersonal health — is an act of gratitude to those who helped build it.
Some mentors leave their mark through signature phrases or habits. You might still hear your old conductor’s voice reminding you to “sing through the phrase” or “listen across the ensemble.” Others leave a more subtle legacy — a way of treating others, a respect for the score, or a reverence for silence between the notes. Whatever form it takes, mentorship ensures that no great teacher is ever truly gone. Their influence continues to resonate through the voices of those they’ve touched.
Eventually, every singer finds themselves in a position to give back. Maybe it happens when a new member joins your section and looks to you for guidance. Maybe it’s when a student asks how to manage nerves before an audition. Or perhaps it’s when a young conductor observes how you follow the baton with calm precision. These are moments when we unconsciously step into the role our mentors once filled.
Mentorship doesn’t require formal titles or years of experience — it begins with generosity. It’s in taking the time to help someone find their note, sharing a fingering trick for a tough passage, or explaining a rehearsal marking. It’s in making space for questions and reminding others that even seasoned singers are still learning.
Passing on wisdom is not about perfection; it’s about continuity. The goal is not to create clones of our mentors or ourselves, but to inspire others to develop their own artistry, integrity, and joy in the music. In doing so, we ensure that the lineage continues — that the music, and the values behind it, will live on beyond our own voices.
Every choir, whether amateur or professional, exists within a larger historical and cultural continuum. Composers, conductors, and ensembles of the past paved the way for today’s singers, refining traditions and shaping techniques that we now take for granted. To be part of a choral community is to accept a stewardship of that legacy — to preserve not only the repertoire but also the spirit of collaboration, discipline, and mutual respect that defines choral artistry.
This responsibility doesn’t mean rigid adherence to the past; rather, it means carrying forward the essence of what makes our art so vital. Mentorship helps balance reverence for tradition with openness to innovation. The older singer learns from the younger as much as the reverse — new ideas, new repertoire, and new perspectives breathe life into the ensemble, ensuring that the choral song remains ever-evolving and alive.
There’s an old saying in the choral world: “The choir is only as strong as its weakest singer.” But perhaps we might amend that to say: “The choir is only as strong as its mentors.” For mentorship is the invisible structure that upholds every ensemble — the unspoken support that shapes its sound, its culture, and its heart.
As singers, we stand on the shoulders of those who sang before us. Their breath becomes our breath, their lessons our foundation. When we pass their wisdom on, we ensure that the song never ends. Every generation of singers adds its own harmony to the greater choral story, and through mentorship, those harmonies remain connected, resonant, and eternal.
So, the next time you step into rehearsal, take a moment to remember the mentors who guided you — those who taught you to listen, to blend, to breathe, and to love this music deeply. Then look around. Somewhere near you, there’s a new singer just beginning their journey, quietly hoping to find guidance and inspiration.
Be that voice. Be that mentor.
Because in choral singing — as in life — the truest measure of our artistry is not how beautifully we sing, but how beautifully we help others to find their song.
Who were your mentors? How did they impact you? Tell us in the comments below!