Vocal fry

The English language does not lack in terms which designate that most admirable human virtue: the ability to not panic in the midst of a crisis or in the face of impending doom. In fact, British culture is packed with phrases that bolster the 'stiff upper lip' archetype. The über-memeable 'Keep calm and carry on' and the old 'mustn't grumble' come to mind. Yet, there’s a delightful irony in the fact that English speakers should rely on French adjectives like nonchalant, blasé, and insouciant precisely to describe such a distinctively English attitude. At any rate, I believe the underlying message is clear: if you are English you keep your cool. And keeping your cool is a good thing.

I suspect that behind the triumph of the word cool hides a stereotype about "hot-blooded cultures" in which people prefer passion and emotions over self-restraint and stoicism. I am actually cool with that (pun totally intended) even if I come from one of those "passionate cultures".

I understand that level-headedness is exactly the kind of temperament you want when it comes to air pilots, brain surgeons and professional sharpshooters. No problem there. Some people, however, believe that being cool is not good enough. They want to take their attitude to the proverbial "next level" by displaying what I like to call the I-don´t-give-a-hoot attitude, with which they seek to signal not necessarily skepticism or stoicism, but rather indifference or even apathy. The subtext to whatever they say is not that they don't mind a setback, but that they just don't care about it. And while that brand of disdain has come to be expressed in many different ways, I think the infamous vocal fry has to be the most annoying of them all.

What is vocal fry? Simply put, it consists in the tendency to lower one's voice down to the deepest possible degree, which makes the vibration of the vocal cords quite noticeable. Here you have an example.

As I said above, vocal fry is supposed to signal detachment, lack of interest or sheer indifference. You probably know what I'm referring to. It's that I'm too-cool-for-school approach to oral interaction which so many millennials and Gen-Zers appear to love. This phenomenon is, by no means, exclusive to young people. Noted linguist Noam Chomsky, who is now 97 years old, has been using vocal fry for decades. And he is not an isolated example. I remember how Benedict Cumberbatch used vocal fry in the series Sherlock (2010-2017) and I believe it was a good decision, since his portrayal of Sherlock Holmes did give off a certain worldweary vibe. So, no. The vocal fry phenomenon is not new nor is it limited to young women and yet that is the stereotype. In the minds of many native speakers the standard vocal fry user is a Kim Kardashian lookalike. Don't take my word for it. Prominent feminist author Naomi Wolf has gone so far as to explicitly ask women to drop that irritating habit. Of course, there has been some backlash from other feminists who denounce the implicit double standards in her advice. After all, men are not usually called out on that same habit. I think that theirs is a valid objection. At the same time. I also understand public perception. Because men already have deeper voices, their vocal fry is less conspicuous and, therefore, less surprising. Of course, that doesn't mean that women use it more often than men. It just highlights the fact that amongst women it is more noticeable. So, I suppose I understand both Ms. Wolf and her critics.

That said, I personally find vocal fry beyond exasperating (both in men and women) and agree with all those experts who point out its evident drawbacks. It undermines the authority of your voice and makes you sound insecure or artificial. Still, I admit that it is not a matter of right or wrong. Pretty much like the valley girl accent or the notorious uptalk, vocal fry is a phenomenon that bothers some and elicits utter indifference from the rest. I just thought you should be aware of its existence (so you can avoid it like the plague). Just remember that, for better or worse, your speaking style always has an impact on your listeners.

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N.B. Yes I am aware that the not-so-subtle sexism of the term "valley girl accent", but I'm afraid that's what it is called.

Humor

"If you're in a vehicle and are traveling at the speed of light and you turn your lights on, would they do anything?" That's a killer one-liner by the great Steven Wright. In this video you can hear the man deliver that line with his signature deadpan style. Liked it? Okay. Now check out this one by Tim Vine: "I started running a dating app for chickens, but it's a real struggle trying to make hens meet". The first joke relies on a concept taken from the field of Physics (i.e. nothing can move faster than the speed of light). The second one refers to an idiom (i.e. to make ends meet). I find them both hilarious. Do you?

It is no secret that humor doesn't translate well. Its success often depends on many factors: connotations, phonetics, local conventions, context, delivery style... which means that a foreigner who can appreciate a joke in real time has already acquired a high level of proficiency in the target language. Interestingly enough, that skill is partly learnable. Take, for example, the structure "X, Y and Z walk into a bar". It usually mentions an incongruous group of people (e. g. an astronaut, a cowboy and a rabbi) and signals that the person speaking is going to tell a joke. It functions much like the old "once upon a time", which lets a listener know they about to hear a fairy tale. In the "metajoke" below, Barack Obama exploits the old convention of the three peculiar individuals to great effect:

Other conventions have to do with the format of some jokes. Thus, an advanced learner should at least be aware of several popular "templates": the chicken-crossing the road jokes, the knock-knock jokes, the yo mama jokes, etc.). But still. It cannot be denied that "getting a joke" requires a lot on the part of the listener and, as usual, nothing beats massive exposure. That is why I recommend that you watch someone like Stuart Francis. He is a Canadian comedian who specializes in that quintessentially North American brand of humor: one-liners and quick wacky jokes with a short intro and not much in the way of context. His jokes put your understanding skills to the test, but at least they are short and allow for a simple "analysis".  Give it a try and you'll see what I mean:

If you enjoy these jokes your English level is definitely pretty high. Congratulations. And if you still struggle to understand the laughs, you know what to do: keep watching stand-up comedians, sitcoms, late night shows, etc. Eventually you'll realize that references will start to sound familiar, puns will suddenly make sense and you'll find reasons to break into laughter. All you need es massive exposure.

I'll leave you with a joke by an absolute mater of one-liners, the late Mitch Hedberg: The best thing about escalators is that they cannot break. They can only become stairs. It is, in itself, a vocabulary lesson. Don't you think?

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N.B. I know I have only referenced American humor. It doesn't mean that I don't like the British sense of humor. On the contrary, I actually love it, but the truth is it would be too complicated to even try and address the topic of British humor in a short post such as this. Still, if you are curious about the multiple differences between British and American humor you can take a look at this clip one. It is quite insightful.

Eloquence

I love Raye's music. Seriously. I believe she's the best news to have come out of the United Kingdom in quite a while. Her style is fresh, exciting and she definitely knows how to write lyrics that linger in your head long after the song is over. That said, I think it would be great if she worked a little on her speaking skills. Just listen to this clip:

"Also at the same time, yeah, like, do you know what I mean? Like, you know..."

There's nothing wrong with using fillers and discourse markers. They help us avoid awkward silences and play for time while we look for the right words. But problems start to pile up when a sentence contains more fillers than meaningful terms. So, let's forget about Raye for a second and look at these two random examples:

• "I was, sort of, you know, kind of, like... tired"
• "And I was, like... wow".

Do they sound familiar? Those phrases capture the inarticulacy of so many speakers who fail to craft such simple sentences as I was tired or I was awestruck. On the other end of the spectrum we come across someone like Eileen Gu, a record-breaking freeskier, who recently answered a question like this:

Even though she uses the term like an inordinate number of times and ends her answer with a perfect example of the infamous vocal fry, she is without a doubt a gifted speaker. Within 60 seconds she manages to display a perfect mixture of lexical resources, which includes the following:

• advanced vocabulary (pensive, revere, analytical lens, neuroplasticity, egotistical)
• a simple expresions (I spend a lot of time in my own head)
• a thought-provoking scenario (my 8-year-old me would revere who I am)
• an effective comparison (tinkering like a scientist)
• colloquialisms (flex, are you kidding?)

Both Raye and Eileen Gu are highly accomplished women who excel in their respective fields, but it would be preposterous to state that their speaking skills are comparable. As English learners, we should pay attention to the way competent speakers talk so we can borrow from them as much as we can. Articulate speakers remind us of the immense range of possibilities that a language has to offer. They help us understand our choices and venture into uncharted territories. So, now you know what to do: hone your metalinguistic awareness and give serious thought to your own communication skills or, as Eileen Gu would put it, "apply an analytical lens to your speaking process". It definitely pays off.

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N.B. Some may argue that comparing a less articulate interview with an inspired one is unfair. And that is a valid point. However, these clips are intended solely to illustrate the spectrum of eloquence. Remember that this blog is a study of the English language, not a critique of the people speaking it.

Beware of social marking

Once upon a time, in the late 10th century, Ælfric of Eynsham, a prolific Anglo-Saxon scholar described the creation of the first two humans in these terms:

God gesceop þa æt fruman twegen men, wer and wif

 In modern English it reads like this:

    God created then at the beginning two persons, a male and a female

You don't need to be a trained philologist to realize that in the 10th century the word men meant persons (or human beings). Isn't it interesting? Back then, if you wanted to refer to a "male human", the standard word was wer, which is still present in the compound werewolf and is connected to the Latin term vir. The original meaning of wif was simply "female human" (and sometimes "wife"). In fact, the very word woman comes from wif-man: literally "female-person". Eventually, of course, the meaning of the word man changed. In other Germanic languages, however, it evolved differently, which is why modern German uses it as a gender-neutral pronoun (man) that refers to an unspecific subject: man spricht deutsch means, quite simply, German is spoken. But that is a different story.

There is nothing shocking or new about any of the above. Linguists have known all this for centuries. So why am I discussing it now? Well, because today is International Women's Day and I think it is a great opportunity to stop and consider the relationship between language and thoughts. Some argue that, when it comes to considering a person's thinking process, words are nothing short of cosmetic. To that I counter that words help us shape our thoughts. Siri Hustvedt once remarked "words matter because they alter perception" (or words to that effect). Whether we find it logical or not, the fact is that speakers react differently when labels are changed. A case in point can be found in U.S. politics. The labels Affordable Care Act and Obamacare designate the very same federal law, but elicit radically different reactions from voters. I don't think I need to explain why.

And that leads us to a phenomenon that is usually called "social marking". Social marking (you guessed it) is the process by which a speech community imposes sociocultural assumptions onto words. As far as gender is concerned, the most obvious examples of social marking is the proclivity to ascribe a particular gender to a particular job. When we hear words such as plumber or thief we overwhelmingly picture a man. When we come across terms like nurse or flight attendant we tend to think of a woman. Needless to say, those four words are gender-neutral. The marking, therefore, is not grammatical, but rather psychological. I think we can all learn to reverse that situation by mistrusting our own impulses even when reality does reinforce our initial assumption (most flight attendants are indeed female and most thieves happen to be men).

My personal view is that we've come a long way since the days when the idea of a female surgeon was literally inconceivable. Proof of that is the fact that whenever I come across terms like judge, architect or astronaut I honestly don't have a clear picture as to the gender of the person in question. I suspect that this inability to ascribe a particular gender to a profession is actually backed up by reality. I would say that it means we're making progress. Wouldn't you?

Efficiency and clarity

In his quirky prose book Juan de Mairena, Spanish poet Antonio Machado evoked a fictional scene where a teacher asks a pupil to give a literary polish to a ridiculously convoluted phrase. The phrase in question was the consuetudinary occurrences which transpire upon the thoroughfare [my translation]. A clever student was quick to offer a "poetic" version of that atrocity: What happens in the street, said the kid. By means of such an unlikely anecdote, Machado sought to point out the fact that efficient expression should dispense with unnecessary flourishes and stick to the its substance.  Literary language is not about throwing together fancy words.

I mention this because experience has shown me that many C1 hopefuls tend to be catastrophically misguided. They seem to fall for the myth that hyper-accurate vocabulary is the only hallmark of a pro. Well... I regret to report that it is not. A certain degree of accuracy is obviously needed, but an English learner shouldn't depend solely on lexical precision to show their advanced competency. In fact, an accumulation of unusual terms (however accurate they might be) is often counterproductive. On his late night show, Stephen Colbert, customarily proves this very point during every introduction of his "Meanwhile" segment, which typically consists in an extended metaphor packed with infrequent terms that  (to the uninitiated ears) sound like utter gibberish. Just watch the first 42 seconds of the video below and you'll realize what I mean.

What we, advanced learners, ought to aim for is range and efficiency. And yes. Oftentimes efficiency is closely linked to the ability to be succinct. Compare these two phrases:

• an experience that you have only one time in your life (B2)
• a once-in-a-lifetime experience (C1)

But conciseness alone doesn't necessarily entail efficiency. Sometimes the expression that produces the desired effect is actually longer than the direct simple one. This is particularly true when we want to paint a vivid picture. Compare the following sentences:

• It's easy (A1)
• It's not rocket science (C1)

They clearly mean the same thing, but the impact on the listener is noticeably different. In this specific case efficiency relies on the speaker's ability to use a conventional expression (rocket science) and, therefore, to sound natural. Compare now the different ways you can say that something or someone is "tough":

• That's a tough needle to thread
• That's a tough pill to swallow
• She's tough as nails
• She's a tough cookie
• It's like pulling teeth
• It's an uphill battle

Being efficient is all about "getting the job done" without unnecessary words. Sometimes you need an accurate term ("She castled kingside"). On other occasions, you just focus on relaying the message in a way that is interesting, funny, spontaneous, exotic or simply appropriate. Don't get too hung up about the mot juste. Using the perfect word can indeed give you a wonderful sense of achievement, but it can also turn out to be rather pointless. If you don't believe me, ask an average native speaker about the exact difference between a washer and a gasket or even the meaning of mot juste.

Don't talk like a child

One of the regrettable consequences of the digital revolution was the lowering of reading standards. In the early years of the Internet companies were quick to realize that published texts had to be short, punchy and fresh. Nuance, however, often demands more complex prose and "big words", which offer specific shades of meaning (compare the term strange with some of its hyponyms: quirky, outlandish, weird, eccentric, etc.). These days, with readability being the ultimate metric, many webmasters still choose to publish a simplified form of prose that barely challenges a middle-school reader. And I this is by no means a rhetorical overstatement, but rather a hard fact. The 12-year-old reading age has really become the global benchmark for most websites. And if you don't believe me feel free to take a peek at the Web Content Accessibility Guidelines.

I understand that it is often necessary to make sure that nobody is excluded from certain types of information. However, constant exposure to child-level comprehension comes with a price. These days a surprising number of Internet users don't seem to take offense when an article is obviously simple. They actually appreciate the effortless reading and neglect to notice that they are being patronized. Needless to say there's a downside to that convenience: many adults today can't "read between the lines". They don't understand irony, perceive allusions or realize a change in tone. In short, they fail to act as adults. And, as a self-defense mechanism they will downplay a weak speaker's shortcomings and call accomplished orators elitists.

But what happens when a situation calls for nuanced communication? Think about the type of language a neurologist, a financial advisor, a diplomat or a president are expected to use when they act in a professional capacity. Is it acceptable for a doctor be flippant about a dire prognosis? Is there a casual way to address a nation after a terrorist attack?

As I have said before on this blog, the sitting president of the U. S. A. represents the nadir of expression. His entire world seems to be compressed into 500 words. Okay. Maybe more than 500. At any rate, there is overwhelming consensus that his speaking style is an exercise in lexical poverty. You will forgive me for sharing an excerpt of a recent speech by Mr. Trump, which is by no means an isolated anecdote. It is a grim daily standard:

We want respect. We're going to have it. We already have it. More respected now than we ever were. A year and a half ago they laughed at us. Now they respect us again at levels that never respected us.

Of course, it could be argued that even a person operating within such a remarkably narrow word range can still "go places". And that argument might indeed be hard to counter. Yet, as an English teacher, it is my duty to remind you all of the fact that an official examiner will not be as lenient as some voters seem to be in the U.S. Advanced learners ought to do far better than Mr. Trump, which is why I have decided to show you three structures that exceed the capabilities of an average 12-year-old. Check them out:

Impersonal sentences

• 12-year-old: Everyone helps pay for our doctors and hospitals through their taxes.
• Advanced learner: Our healthcare system is funded through taxation.

• 12-year-old: We should have our own opinions and not follow the opinions of others.
• Advanced learner: Developing a personal worldview requires intellectual autonomy, not the passive acceptance of prevailing doctrines.

Subjects which begin with a wh-word

• 12-year-old: It’s impossible to understand why he is still famous.
• Advanced learner: Why he is still relevant is incomprehensible.

Modifiers before the relative pronoun

• 12-year-old: We should worry more about our students' health because more than 70% of them aren't getting enough exercise.
• Advanced learner: We should consider the health of our students 70% of whom do not take regular exercise.

I could, of course, suggest many other examples, but I think this sample is illustrative enough. Remember that even if a sophisticated speaker doesn't need to speak like a fusty old professor all the time, he or she should be able to "run the spectrum" so they can say something basic (She is not going to be famous forever) and then something slightly more nuanced (Is she aware of the ephemeral nature of public adulation?) and, if need be, try and be funny or mysterious or comically pompous. I believe the message is clear. You're an adult. Talk like one.

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N.B. To those of you that think that the video above was a cherry-picked example of Trumpian inarticulateness I suggest you watch the video below. It is an AI-generated clip specifically created to dispense with Donald Trump's voice, his quirks and mannerisms, so that you can concentrate on what he actually says. Bear in mind that this is an unedited word-for-word version of what he said.

Long vowels

Phonetics is not a subject at school. Once in a while it may be touched upon by some eager teachers, but, to the best of my knowledge, most students graduate from high school without ever learning about devoiced consonants or central vowels. Yet, in English-speaking countries a version of phonetics is indeed taught to children when they learn to read. They are told, for example, that the sequence [əʊ] is a "long vowel" and that the vocalic sounds in closed syllables like god or bed are "short vowels". Okay. That is clearly not the case. The dipthong [əʊ] obviously consists of two vowels, namely, a schwa [ə] and a "lax u" [ʊ]. Yes. Two vowels. * 

However, English-speaking teachers customarily tell their pupils that a vowel is "long" when they pronounce the name of the letter. So, the vowel in the word name, for example, is "long" because the "a" is pronounced as [ei], whereas the vowel in tack is short. That clever rule of thumb doesn't always work, though. The word goat (pronounced [ɡəʊd] in the UK and [ɡoʊd] in the US) is spelled with two letters which, quite obviously, don't have one name. Still, the dipthong in the middle of that word is described as a "long vowel". Even if the explanation is quite messy (it mixes up letters and sounds), I understand that it can be  useful in primary school classrooms. That said, to adults who are learning English in Italy or Spain, the whole thing can be extremely confusing.

And not only to foreigners. In a 2025 interview with Stephen Colbert, Daniel Craig was persnickety enough to point out that Colbert used to mispronounce his lastname. As you will hear in the video below, the correct pronunciation of the surname Craig demands that the speaker pronounce a dipthong [ei], not an "open e" [Ɛ]. However, Colbert finds (or pretends to find) the difference a little too "subtle". To me it's quite clear. Is it obvious to you?

Anyhow, if I'm blogging about this issue it's because there is a takeaway for all of you. Bear with me for a minute.

When English speakers learn Spanish they typically struggle to pronounce our so-called "clipped vowels". They tend to say [nəʊ] or [noʊ] instead of simply [no]. For the same reason they say ['balei] instead of [ba'le] when they learn French. How is this all relevant to you? Well, my dear Spanish speakers, you have the "reverse" problem. Most varieties of Spanish lack long vowels. By "long vowels" I'm referring to real long vowels such as the first [a] in the Argentinian pronunciation of Bárbara. Therefore a typical Spanish speaker will have serious difficulty pronouncing the English word father, whose vowel [a:] is slightly longer than the one we find in fad. ** Now, if you want to perfect your pronunciation you may have to polish your English vowels. I suggest you start by practicing simple phrases, like let's go to a bar. Remember that the vowel in the word bar is a tiny little bit longer that its Spanish equivalent. I won't say anything about the quality of the vowel or the pronunciation or the [r]. This post is about vocalic length.

Does this make any sense? I certainly hope so. As ever, my advice is simple: practice the pronunciation of everyday words like car, bar or garden and one day you'll be able to deliver the legendary reveal in The Empire Strikes Back: "No, I am your faaaaather".

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* I know. I know. The term "lax u" is not scientific, but you will forgive me for not using the technical denomination. In my opinion mid-centralized close back rounded vowel is a bit of a mouthful.

** I know. I know. The "a" in fad represents a completely different sound, but I'm only talking about the length here.