Monthly Archives: October 2013

A Potentially Bad (Yet Highly Popular) Bit Of Advice About Your Fingers

“It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.”

-Mark Twain

The words above are especially true when it comes to musical pedagogy. There are lots of myths out there (often in the form of simple advice) that are based on a misunderstanding between cause and effect. These myths often prevail because they seem, on the surface, quite logical.

And that’s where the problems begin.

The one I’m talking about here specifically is this: To play a woodwind instrument (though I’ve read/heard the same thing about string instruments and piano, as well) with optimum speed and efficiency, you must train your fingers to stay close to the keys.

On the surface this seems logical. For you to play passages rapidly and with control, there needs to be an efficiency of movement. Ideally your fingers need not move any more than necessary to open and close keys.

And more often than not, if you witness a musician playing with great speed and control, this is what you’ll notice in the fingers. Like a well-trained athlete…economy of motion.

Lately I’ve seen several videos online where very good saxophonists are advocating this idea, even giving specific instruction on how to train the fingers in this manner. As much as I respect these musicians, I don’t at all agree with their advice in this area.

Here are  four reasons why not:

First, there is a misunderstanding of what actually leads to the efficiency of your fingers. When you see somebody playing with the fingers flapping up and down like crazy while playing, what you are witnessing is excessive muscular tension. The fingers are going too high, for example, because the player is tensing them (over-extending) to bring them there. As they come back down to the keys they often do so with a thud (again, too much tension as the fingers flex).

You see, efficiency of the fingers (staying close to the keys) is a result of the balance between tension and release. The fingers flex lightly to come toward the keys, and release to come off of the keys. As they release they don’t move very far. Sometimes they even keep in light contact with the keys. So get rid of the excess tension, and the fingers do no more nor less than what they need to do.

Second, by trying to hold the fingers close to the keys and limit their movement, you’re mostly replacing one type of unnecessary tension with another. (Please note that the operative word here is “hold”, as in “hold the fingers and not let them be free to respond and move“.)

Third, this over emphasis on one part (the fingers) divides and disintegrates your attention as you play. It also takes away from your ability to sense how each part is related to the whole. For example, if you see a saxophonist playing with stiff and high flying fingers, you can also notice that there is a chain of habitual muscular tension on display: stiff fingers connected to stiff arms, connected to stiff and narrowed shoulders, connected to a stiff neck. This whole pattern really needs to change in order to support economy of motion in the fingers.

Fourth (and perhaps most important), this kind of practice (trying to hold the fingers closely to the keys) can lead to other troubles for some musicians. As an Alexander Technique teacher, I’ve had students come to me with three specific types of problems that have been exacerbated by their obsession with over-managing their fingers as they play: Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, Elbow Tendonitis and Focal Dystonia. Part of what I help these musicians with is to strike a balance in their attention as they practice  in order to expand and include more of themselves (and their external environments) into their music making habits.

I have no doubt that the saxophonists I refer to above sincerely believe that they have been helped by their approach and their specific remedies (everything from holding pencils between the fingers while playing, to attaching the fingers to the keys with rubber bands).

To them I would say this: you play very well despite doing that. And to be honest, as I watch them play, I don’t see a huge amount of unnecessary tension in the rest of their bodies (thought I certainly see areas that could improve!)

But I don’t know what they were doing with themselves before they started to practice this way, so it’s impossible for me to know the improvements (and potential harmful habits) that have been gained.

I do know this, however:  Your fingers move most efficiently when you leave them alone to do so. If you have clear intentions about the music, a good sense of time and a nice balance of tension and release in your body as you play, your fingers will do the right thing easily, without self-concious effort.

So if you notice your fingers moving “too much” as you play, stop and observe. Are you raising them through release or tension? If you notice that you’re tensing your fingers, trace that to what your arms, shoulders, head and neck are doing. If you’re finding lots of tension in these areas, it just might be the right time to find a good Alexander Technique teacher 😉  You’d be amazed at how much more efficient and effortless the entire music making process can be.

The Technique That Has Helped Me The Most

I’ve been playing, composing and teaching music for nearly 40 years. In that time I’ve come across many different approaches to improving what I do. Nothing has come close to helping me as effectively and as completely as the Alexander Technique.

I came to study the Technique after struggling with some serious coordination problems that were threatening my career as a saxophonist. I was so impressed with how I’d been able to help myself with the work, that I decided to commit to the three-year training program necessary to become qualified to teach (completing my training in 2006). It was easily the best decision I’ve ever made in my musical life.

Everything I do in my musical practice is informed by the Alexander Technique. I would even say that I approach composition and improvisation with the Alexander principles very close at hand. And of course, the Technique is at the heart of what I teach when I’m teaching musicians.

So what is the Alexander Technique?

In the simplest (and most practical) sense, the Alexander Technique is a way to learn to recognize and prevent unnecessary (and potentially harmful) muscular tension in any activity. (This alone is quite helpful for musicians!)

But I would also say that it is a a way to more effectively connect thought with action. Clear intention combined with efficiently directed muscular energy leads to a highly satisfying musical experience in both practice and performance. This clarity between thought and action also makes me a more effective, and more authentic composer and improviser.

The Alexander Technique is the technique I apply to all other musical techniques, whether I’m working on tone, articulation, velocity, reading, or improvisation. Anything, really. My brother-in-law, Celio (who’s also an Alexander Technique teacher), calls it the “pre-technique” to any activity. I couldn’t agree more.

Here are eight ways the Alexander Technique helps me the most in my work:

1. It provides a lens through which to evaluate good coordination. In Alexander slang, we talk about the primary control, which is the working relationship of the head, neck and back. This head/neck/back relationship conditions the quality of everything we do in our movements: breathing; using the mouth, lips, tongue and jaw (as well as the other vocal mechanisms); using the arms, hands and fingers; sitting standing and walking; the eyes…as I said, everything.

The primary control is the lens through which I discern and evaluate all my (and my students) movement habits as they pertain to playing music. By learning to stop interfering with the natural coordination of this primary control, I (and my students) play with greater ease, efficiency and control.

2. It places the emphasis on the quality of the process. Rather than aiming only for specific results (with no consideration to how best to attain them), the Technique helps me grow my faith in working by principle, using reason and discernment, always aiming for a good use of primary control (see above). This not only helps me play better, but also, keeps me from harming myself as I play. As long as I take care of the quality of the “how” in what I do , the end takes care of itself.

3. It helps me to improve by doing less. This is perhaps the most important principle I’ve learned. I’m playing better than ever not because of what I’m doing, but rather, because of what I’m not doing (my old habits of excess tension) as I play. Addition by subtraction, as the cliche goes. I see far too many musicians making their playing more difficult by adding yet more things to “do” in a forced and unnatural way (breathing and embouchure are prime examples). No need for this added effort.

4. It teaches me when (and how!) to stop. To me,  this is the most essential skill for a musician to have during a practice session. Learning to strategically stop and redirect my thinking has helped me improve more than anything. By doing so I prevent myself from reinforcing the habits that are interfering with my playing, and give myself the means and opportunity to truly change.

5. It provides tools for self-care. Constructive rest, breath work, taking care of how I use myself (in all my activities) have helped me significantly to practice music without pain or worry of injury.

6. It helps me maintain a better balance between the internal and the external. I’ve greatly improved my ability to stay connected to internal things as I play, like sensing time, imagining pitch and tone color, following my creative impulses, and what’s going on with my body; with external things like hearing my sound, hearing the other musicians, and my visual and spatial senses. This balance  of attention (rather than the imbalance of over-focusing on certain things at the expense of ignoring others) has deeply enriched my musical experience. (It has also improved my pitch, sound, time and creativity.)

7. It helps me observe and improve my thinking. If I’m facing a particular challenge as I play, I immediately go to my thinking. When I ask myself, “Where are your thoughts going as you play this?”, I usually find that my thoughts are not supporting what I’m trying to do as I play. So I simply redirect my thinking. Improvement always follows. As an improvising musician, this has been especially helpful.

8. It clarifies my understanding of cause and effect. There is plethora of useless, even harmful, pedagogical information out there for instrumentalists and singers (much of it disseminated by highly respected musicians with limited knowledge of anatomy and physiology). By understanding how I work best in nature (again, see primary control, above), I can easily filter out the bad information, and stay with what truly works. I get a clearer idea of how “A” influences (or doesn’t influence!) “B”, so I  can more accurately answer the question: Am I playing well because of what I do, or despite what I do?

Besides these eight, there are even more ways the Alexander Technique has helped me. I just wanted to list a few of the ones I personally consider most essential. By staying with the Alexander principles, I continue to develop a set of tools that I can use with confidence and consistency.

I’ve also enjoyed the privilege of  teaching the Technique to a variety of musicians, from jazz artists, to Indian classical musicians, to musical theater performers, to principle players in symphony orchestras and more, with measurable benefits. It is remarkable work. I encourage you to find a good teacher and give it a try.