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Why Are You Yelling?

Every voiceover talent enters the profession from one of several paths. Most of the VO friends I have appear to have started in the world of radio and migrated to VO. Several others have a background in acting and decided to pursue voice acting instead of, or in addition to, stage and on-camera. As for me, I came from the world of public address announcing. I began as “the PA guy,” that voice you hear at a sporting event, band contest, or other occasion – welcoming you; giving you the lowdown on emergency exits and security; imploring you to show good sportsmanship, stay in your seats during a performance, or turn off your flash when taking photos; asking you to stand for the Alma Mater and/or National Anthem; and of course, telling you who’s performing next, who carried the ball or made the tackle, who scored that basket, committed that foul, is at the free throw line, or is batting next. I get to tell you who’s placed where or what the score is before thanking you for coming, inviting you to our next event, and wishing you a safe drive home. I’ve been doing this type of voice work for three decades now, and it is still incredibly fun and rewarding.

It was a little over 20 years ago that, at a band competition, I encountered a parent who worked for an agency in Dallas. She inquired if I was a professional voiceover talent. At the time, I was still a classroom teacher who simply did PA work on the side. She suggested I send her some clips that she could share with her bosses. What a massive moment for me – am I really good enough that someone thinks I do professional voiceover? I scraped together some recording equipment and scripts, did my reads, and sent them off to her. And what a massive wake-up call. “You need coaching.” (No surprise.) They recommended the great Bruce Carey in Dallas. I did a free consultation with him, and he was willing to work with me, but I wasn’t ready at that time to commit to VO training, financially or otherwise. Still, the experience opened my eyes to what I had been doing right up to that point as a “PA guy,” and especially how I might improve. And boy, did I have a long way to go. Obviously, I have since pursued proper VO training and begun a more professional track in the world of voiceover. But even though I’ve expanded my VO interests, genres, and goals, I still remain strongly connected to the world of PA and live announce. While it’s not necessarily the most lucrative work, I still find it every bit as fun and rewarding as ever. I love it. And yet, there’s still something that bothers me about this particular niche of voice work. How can I describe it? Perhaps “the yellers.” “The screamers.” The folks who either don’t understand the nuance of VO and how it can apply to live announce, or the ones who’ve never been trained at all and just think that yelling at the crowd somehow engages them.

On social media, I belong to or follow several PA-related groups, pages, and accounts. So I see lots of other PA announcers who post about their work, including photos of the venues and videos of their work. I’ve also captured lots of video of my own PA work and posted some of it to social media, though not necessarily to these groups. I can only speak for myself, but my primary purpose in recording video or audio of my PA work is really improvement. I don’t simply go back and watch to say, “Wow, I’m great!” I’m intentionally critical of my own performance – ensuring I emphasized the right words and phrases, looking for patterns that are too monotonous or “sing-songy,” that kind of thing. Throughout this self-assessment, I place a priority on two things: First, the clarity of the message. Am I giving the audience the information they need or want? If it’s something like a sponsor read, am I properly billboarding the sponsor’s name and inviting the audience to consider them? Am I saying the name(s) correctly? (This one’s a HUGE one for me – more on that in a future blog post.) Is my phrasing actually leading somewhere, coming across coherently and bringing the copy to life? Second, the tone of the message. My concern here is literal – pitch, volume, timbre, everything about my vocal quality. Just like with a commercial read, there’s an art to it – when to raise or lower the pitch, when to speak louder or softer, when to exteeeeeend a word, phrase, or name, when to clip a word, even when to add a little resonance, vocal fry, or possibly a bit of a growl. Achieve the right blend of clarity and tone, and you have what I would consider audience engagement. You’re adding to the event, but not overshadowing or overwhelming it.

The bottom line is that the PA guy, the announcer, the “voice of god” in VO industry parlance, is NOT the show. The show is on the floor, on the field, on the stage. The live announcer’s job is to frame, explain, or enhance the show. To assist in the presentation of the show in a positive, enjoyable, professional manner, while at the same time being sort of “forgettable” because the audience is ultimately, you know, enjoying the show. And it’s why the best live announcers in the business are names the average person won’t know unless they pay careful attention. Some are well-known because they’ve announced on the biggest stages, like Allen Roach at the Super Bowl or Randy Thomas at The Oscars. Others might have regional notoriety thanks to an association with a sports franchise or university, like Chuck Morgan with the Texas Rangers or Bob Ford with the Houston Astros and the University of Houston. Still others might find themselves associated with niche events, like a couple of friends of mine – Dan Potter, who announces shows for DCI and BOA, among others, and John Pollard, who announces shows for BOA and the UIL State Marching Band Contest. Maybe not everyone is going to love their individual styles – that’s the nature of the VO business in general – but these announcers all have credibility as voice artists in their own right because they fundamentally work to highlight someone else’s efforts, accomplishments, and excellence. That’s the job of the announcer; you’re the voice “behind it all,” as it were. The now-defunct National Association of Sports Public Address Announcers used to call it “the voice above the crowd.” People appreciate the work you do precisely because it does ΝΟΤ interfere with the event or annoy them. If you’re the show, you’re a problem.

Having said all that, you can likely understand my consternation when I come across posts in my Facebook feed, or on Twitter, or sometimes even on LinkedIn, and see PA announcers posting videos of themselves doing things that give me headaches and heartburn. So many of them “eat the mic” in the first place, putting their lips right up against the foam windscreen or the mic itself. Any VO professional knows this is terrible mic technique unless you’re going for a very specific effect. To add to it, these guys are often absolutely screaming into the mic regardless of the situation. To be fair, some situations call for volume from the PA announcer – for instance, I inject a lot of energy into starting lineups when I’m announcing college basketball, although I never max out my volume or risk harming my vocal cords. But I saw a video just the other day where a guy was announcing high school playoff basketball and absolutely screaming players’ names for every made basket, and then he absolutely lost his mind yelling the final score when the game ended. Keep in mind, it was a playoff game at a neutral site, meaning the PA is supposed to be impartial; and what’s more, in a highly contested playoff game with a large crowd, the PA doesn’t need to make any effort at all to pump up the crowd. They’re going to be excited and probably won’t even be listening to you. Even for a big home game, this announcer’s style was over-the-top, and yet pointless at the same time.

This is an all-too-common tale, and not just on social media. Someone posts a video, “here’s me at my local little league baseball game announcing the starting lineups,” featuring this person getting way too intimate with a Shure SM58 and YEEEELLLLLING EVERYOOOOOONE’S NAAAAAAAAMMMMMMEEEE. And of course, the comments are all “Great Job!” “Awesome!” “You’re crushing it!” And I’m looking in horror, saying, “You’re not crushing it, you’re crushing the fans’ ears. Why are you yelling?” There’s maybe 40 people at this game, and the only thing you’re crushing is their enjoyment. This isn’t engaging; it’s annoying. And inappropriate. Then I see another post of a PA announcer who put on a coat, tie, and nice pair of shoes to announce the starting lineups from the floor with a wireless microphone. And of course, his approach to the presentation mostly consisted of yelling. WHY?!? I mean, if your goal is to become an emcee for a college- or pro-level team, by all means, shoot your shot. Work at it. Make it happen. But I’m betting the local private school with a tiny gym that only has 5-8 rows of wooden bleachers doesn’t have a video board and isn’t looking for enhanced game presentation with an emcee and fan activities during timeouts. PA guy dressing up to announce from the floor in this setting just reeks of “making it about you.” And sorry to tell you, buddy, but no one there really cares about you. They care about the game on the floor, and they’re just humoring you and hoping you’ll finish whatever you’re doing real soon. I’m just not sure what some PA announcers are trying to accomplish at times, and I suspect it’s the inherent good nature of others in the group that prevents a lot of ridicule and embarrassment in the comments.

Now I’m sure someone might retort at this point, “Oh, great, here we go. Old guy hates new things and gripes about them. Get off his lawn while he yells at this cloud.” Give me a break. If you think good PA work involves extra volume more than 10% of the time, you are way off the mark. Yelling is neither innovative nor engaging. If you think good PA work involves being seen out there standing next to the players and praised like you’re part of the team, you have issues with ego and insecurity. The PA is part of a team, alright, but it’s a behind-the-scenes team that’s working to make the featured event function likes it’s supposed to. Quality live announce work is all about structure, timing, mood, and knowing your role, then executing your role to fit the presentation. And that role has changed greatly over the years. The old-school work of people like Bob Sheppard of the New York Yankees, who famously used a deliberate, even tone for every name he announced and just about every word he spoke, is all but gone. Sheppard’s style is considered iconic, but that’s primarily because of his longevity (also because it was the Yankees). Drop Bob Sheppard into a modern arena with a present-day game presentation and he is way out of his element. Live events now call for a certain level of enthusiasm. You have to sound like you want to be there, and you’re happy the fans are there, too (even if it’s completely false because the team is suffering through a long losing streak or you’re exhausted after getting to the venue at 6:00am this morning). This is the only place any of us wants to be at this time on this day, period. And that has to come through in your delivery.

Does that call for yelling? A handful of times, maybe. The vast majority of the time, NO. Sure, get boisterous announcing your home lineup. In a big moment, make the announcement big. After a big home win, let the home fans know that score. Bottom Line: Fit The Moment. And be judicious and consistent in how you approach each moment. When you yell too often, it’s way too easy to work your way into a place where that’s just about all you do. And then there’s no differentiation. If the entire game warrants yelling, then none of it really matters, and you’re just annoying in your PA work. So why are you yelling?

Part of me blames the major pro leagues for this trend. You hear screaming PA in way too many pro venues. At NFL venues with a PA guy yelling “It’s THIIIIIIIIIIRD DOOOOOOWWWWN” at every occurrence. At NBA venues where they have a PA guy yelling at the fans literally all game long, imploring them to chant “DE-FENSE” or “LET’S GO [TEAM NAME].” Is this what passes for fan engagement in the 21st century? And we’ve begun to hear this kind of stuff at some college and even high school venues. It drives me insane, mainly because these messages are why video boards were invented and have grown so massive. The video crew can put “Make Noise!,” “DE-FENSE!,” etc., on the board, and the crowd responds. This is how it works at baseball games. Heck, pipe in some drumming audio – the familiar rhythms of “We Will Rock You” are timeless. We don’t need someone eating the mic, screaming at the top of their lungs, causing damage to their own voice, just in the name of “hyping the crowd.” So why are you yelling?

“But we’re creating a rock concert atmosphere. Get with the times, old man.” Look, chief, if I buy tickets to AC/DC, you’d better believe I’m going to expect it to be loud. That’s their bit. If I’m going to any concert in an arena or stadium, I expect loud. But I ask you: Who’s delivering the loud? Is it some nameless PA guy in a coat and tie walking on stage and yelling “GIVE IT UP FOR AC/DC!!!!!” If the actual show on the stage is worth seeing, it needs no introduction. Similarly, if the game on the field is worth seeing, it needs no introduction. And yet, you may be called upon to give it an introduction, so at least make it appropriate. I’ll say it again: The PA announcer’s job is to frame, explain, or enhance the show. So do that. Enhance the game. Enhance the product the audience came to see. ESPECIALLY when the audience consists of a modest number of fans or attendees, many of whom are parents of the players on the field or court. ESPECIALLY when those players are non-professionals, young people who participate for the love of it. Maybe a few might – might – advance to collegiate or professional levels. But right now, it’s just a bunch of literal kids trying to have fun and win today’s game. This is not a rock concert. As a PA announcer, add to what they are doing. Feature them. Promote them. Make them the only thing you want to watch at this moment. And fit the moment. But screaming over the microphone won’t do anything to make them look or feel professional. It will just annoy them and the people who came to watch them. So why are you yelling?

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In Praise of Teamwork

This post, surprisingly enough, connects strongly to voiceover. Back when I started this blog in August, I intentionally and specifically stated that this is not a voiceover blog. And my posts thus far have borne out this statement. Most of them have focused on observations related on some level to my teaching career, including notes about leadership, assessment, and presentation skills. I’ve also posted on topics pertaining to my experiences in band. Naturally, I’ve mentioned my retirement from K-12 public education several times since that’s something that has dominated my life since the end of June, and it’s a major reason why I actually have time for this blog and for my voiceover career.

That career is progressing as we speak. I’ve established some leads, gotten a handful of auditions, and even booked a few jobs. I’m not where I intend to be, but every journey begins with its first steps, as they say. And what I’ve learned along those few steps is a critical lesson – one that I’ve realized applied in my education career far more than I expected, and one that I think applies to voiceover more than many of us appreciate. That lesson is the importance of teamwork – how the individual contributes to the team and how effective teamwork actually helps the individual. It’s an underrated lesson for my friends and colleagues in the voiceover industry.

Back when I began my education career, I didn’t exactly anticipate that teamwork would be terribly important. It wasn’t a clear priority in my education coursework at the collegiate level. We participated in cooperative learning, and we were coached how to use it effectively, but I don’t recall explicit instruction on the importance of teamwork within the profession as a matter of course. It was a more general “collaborate with your colleagues” theme. The trend of Professional Learning Communities (PLC) in education was not in vogue at the time. And if I’m being honest, my so-called “mentor teacher” during my first year was somewhere between ineffective and a total waste. I was teaching government that first year, and all I got from him was literally a printout of his “lesson plans” for the class (dot-matrix printout, no less), which was what he provided for administration but not nearly what he used for his actual class. I suppose it was a start, but it was hardly helpful and certainly not comprehensive. He would occasionally throw me the bone of an odd handout now and then. But this was hardly teamwork, and I was hardly a teammate. This type of thing went on for roughly three years, and I felt nearly alone as a teacher during that time. For three years, I figured things out for myself. Then I was moved to World Geography at what was then the “9th Grade Center,” where I spent two years, and my perspective changed dramatically. World Geography teachers operated as a true team. There were projects that all the teachers assigned. There was collaboration. I was actually valued as a colleague, and I was free to offer my own ideas and create activities to share with my peers just as much as I could borrow and absorb from them.

Those two years altered the trajectory of my teaching career. After three years feeling like a solitary soul marooned on an island, I experienced two incredible years as a valued member of a viable team. When I returned to the senior level teaching government and economics (the old “mentor” had retired), I was assertive and proactive in establishing teamwork, collaborated more, and genuinely improved as an instructor. It helped that there was some turnover in the staff, and the newer teachers were also more willing to engage with each other. And I believe the process helped all of us excel, not just as subject-area teams, but also as a department. By the time I had advanced to teaching AP Macroeconomics, I had established strong rapport with my colleagues who taught AP US Government. We taught these students on an A/B schedule, so they alternated these classes daily, and we as instructors worked so that our teaching connected with each other’s, reinforcing what students were learning in both classes. The result was better learning for all of those AP students in both courses. It was educational teamwork at some of the highest level I ever experienced.

As my career in education continued, the benefits of teamwork were consistently apparent, especially when I worked in central administration. We had a small department in Research & Assessment, but the tasks each of us worked on connected well enough that our team was always moving forward impressively for the district. All in all, I think I experienced a solid 22 straight years of effective teamwork. The actual level of effectiveness varied at times, but it was always there, and I probably took it for granted. Then I left Mansfield ISD for what I thought was a better opportunity, and better salary. A higher salary was nice, but it was not a collaborative environment. Teamwork was replaced by top-down micromanagement, headed up by someone who was simply not equipped or ready to lead effectively. She thought she had all the answers, and the other three of us were basically expected to do her bidding, even if she wasn’t clear what that was. I was not valued for the ideas I brought to my job; I was basically expected to read the mind of my supervisor and maintain the status quo in 100% detail. And when I didn’t, when I had the temerity to show initiative and originality, I was diminished and even demeaned. It was a negative environment, plain and simple, bereft of any teamwork.

So when I interviewed for what would become my final position in education, I had one answer for the question, “What do you hope to accomplish in this role?” My response: “I want to become a viable member of a high-functioning team.” I had experienced that feeling, and I had experienced what it was like to lose it and feel like I was expected to be a mindless, boring cog. I just wanted to contribute to a team again. And fortunately, I got that experience again. Yes, there were issues at the district level that ultimately led me to retire from the profession, but I can honestly and definitively say that my time at Grand Prairie High School was a positive experience as part of a high-functioning, well-managed team. I learned so much from my colleagues, and they learned from me. We collaborated on a multitude of projects, and our students benefited. We had each other’s backs. Maybe it’s coincidence, but I believe many of us became lifelong friends, as well. Quite a team, and I will always look back on that place, and so many of those colleagues, fondly.

So what does this have to do with voiceover? It comes down to how we as VO artists see ourselves. There’s a common idea (and joke) in the industry that we’re all a little strange because we spend all day talking to ourselves in a padded room. And it can definitely feel that way. But my own experience has taught me that this idea really isn’t the case. Granted, my background is primarily Live Announce, so I often find myself in an environment where there are people around me. Many of my gigs throughout the year have people in the stands, and on the field or floor, and I’m even in charge of running all the audio at times. I’m also my own roadie for a lot of jobs. And you know what? It’s exhilarating, and I love it.

As I mentioned in my Thanksgiving post, I had the chance to work NCAA Division I college basketball recently – three games so far at the University of Texas at Arlington (which is also my alma mater). And even though PA folks often see ourselves as “the voice above the crowd,” the truth I’ve gleaned from these experiences is that whoever is on PA is not simply in an environment “with other people around.” No, they are…you guessed it…part of a team. The team consists of everyone involved in the game presentation – production director, production assistants, band, cheerleaders, dance team, on-court entertainment, etc. Two hours before tipoff, we go over the run-of-show, which outlines every activity of the day or night, including pregame, timeouts, halftime, and postgame. There are a variety of PA reads, but there are also a multitude of other happenings, and the objective is to time everything out right down to the second whenever possible. The goal is to provide a high-quality game experience for the fans while at the same time recognizing all the sponsors involved with UTA Athletics, and above all, respecting and featuring the game on the floor. It is its own a machine with video, graphics, live music, recorded music, and a true cast of characters, all layered on top of and designed to support the performance of the team. As the PA guy, I am simply one part of the experience. And I will emphasize again, I love it. And it’s really not about my voice, although I truly think my pipes were made to resonate in a stadium or an arena just as much as others’ were made to feature trucks or food or Disney movies. I love being part of the event, fulfilling my role, and adding to the ambience that’s being created. Being a viable part of a high-functioning team.

For my VO friends, that’s something that I think is critical to your, my, and our success as VO professionals, no matter what genre we’re working in. It is way too easy to record an audition or a job listening solely to our own performance. It is way too enticing to get caught up in our own voices. If you want to understand what creative professionals hear – REALLY hear – you have to imagine yourself in the arena, if you will. You have to hear yourself with other aspects of the entire production in mind: the images and/or video that your voice will be used to enhance, the music and other sounds that will be layered with your voice, the objective(s) and goal underlying what the creative team is trying to accomplish. Get out of your own head and away from your own voice. Listen. Take direction. Take a broader perspective, then figure out how your voice fits it and adds to the larger mix. And contribute.

For my education friends, and for anyone else reading this post, “teamwork makes the dream work.” “Be a team player.” “There’s no ‘I’ in ‘team.’” (Although you can’t spell team without an “m” and an “e.”) <Cue groans> Sorry. Just kidding. That all sounds kind of trite and silly, much like most bumper-sticker philosophy. But teamwork really does make you better. If you’re in an educational leadership role, that means you have to involve your team members. Seek their input. Accept their ideas and figure out how to integrate them into the larger plan whenever possible. Don’t micromanage. You don’t have all the answers, nor should you. If you’re in a rank-and-file team member role, step up! Know what your role is, and do your part. Contribute. At the same time, Speak Up! If you have ideas, state them in an organized and appropriate manner.

The bottom line is that, no matter your industry or profession, life isn’t meant to be lived in isolation. Each of us can grow individually, but we advance further by working with each other, sharing ideas and activities, sometimes disagreeing, but ultimately learning and developing as both individuals and a group. In a world that seems to value individualism and “I’m gonna get mine” greed way too much, the benefits of collaboration and cooperation through teamwork have gained importance. It’s a lesson for educators, for voiceover pros, and for society at large.