The Value Of Having (But Not Always Following) A Daily Practice Plan

“If you make a mistake, you might want to play that…”

-Miles Davis

I’ve been teaching the Alexander Technique since 2009 at AMDA College of the Performing Arts in Los Angeles.

For every class that I teach, I always arrive with a fairly well detailed lesson plan. In my 10 years of teaching I’ve never once stuck to my plan.

Yet I still continue to formulate a plan and bring it with me to every single class.

And every day for the past many years (too many for me to remember), I start each of my daily saxophone practice sessions with a fairly well detailed practice plan. In all these years of practicing, I’ve never once stuck to my plan.

Yet I still continue to formulate a plan and bring it with me into the practice room.

Why (you might ask) would I do this? Why would I expend time on something that, ultimately, I won’t use?

Well, the truth of the matter is that I always use my plans.

Just because I don’t stick to them doesn’t mean they’re not of great value to me, both in teaching and in learning.

So let’s go to the more fundamental questions here:

1. Why make a plan in the first place?

2. Why don’t I adhere to my plan?

Why make a plan in the first place?

Because making a plan clarifies and details my intentions. These intentions are drawn from what it is that I’d like to accomplish/address. This is always based upon my experiences from the pervious session (whether in the classroom or practice room).

So I begin each session without ambiguity, without hesitation. I immediately start my work efficiently and purposefully. Minimal “wasted” time/energy, optimal engagement/presence.

All good, yes? So then…

Why don’t I adhere to my plan?

In a word: flexibility. As important as my intentions are, I must remain ever vigilant to what is actually needed in the present moment. And that requires an ability to be open to the possibilities of altering my previously intended course of action.

This, to be sure, involves balancing on a fine line. It means staying committed to doing the thing that is most helpful, whether this falls inside or outside of my plan.

It means staying always mindful of my plan (my experience-based intentions), but being willing to let go of some (or all!) of it, too. It means, sometimes, that I come up with an entirely new course of action right there in the moment.

If you’re an improvising musician, you probably already see this attitude as being analogous to improvising music. There is form, perhaps even some kind of a planned sequence of events.

But often, the real magic happens when we deviate from the plan.

Yet this deviation could never occur without a plan in the first place. (I actually think the reason jazz musicians enjoy improvising over standard songs, in part, is to have a “plan to push against”.)

So when you practice do you have a plan? If so, what is it based upon? Are you flexible with it? If not, why not?

And if you don’t have a daily plan when you practice, consider changing that habit. You can always alter (or even abandon) the plan. But you will start each practice session with clarity, curiosity and accountability. You will work toward your goals in a conscious and onstructive manner, always building collectively from previous experience.

Work toward making your plan as detailed as is most optimal for you. Too much detail (or too many tasks)? Simplify. Prioritize and let the things go that seem least essential. What seems to work? What doesn’t?

Not enough detail? Start filling in some blanks. Add more tasks. Ask more questions:

“What do I want? What do I need to work on to get that? What is standing in my way right now?” What can I let go of?”

Take time to formulate and write out tomorrow’s plan at the end of today’s practice session.

Get to know yourself and your music ever more intimately. And enjoy the process!

When Practicing Is More Than Just “Practicing”

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“With great elegance, he contrasts the dullness of mindless routine with the exhilaration of mindful ritual”

-Maria Popova, about the cellist, Pablo Casals

It would be an understatement for me to say that I enjoy my daily saxophone practice more than ever at any point in my life. I look forward to it each day with buoyant anticipation and great delight.

Though I play “better” on some days than others, I never have a “bad” day practicing. (Really!)

This wasn’t always the case for me.

To be sure, I’ve always (even as a beginner) been disciplined about daily practice. I would even say I was a bit “obsessed” at times. Diligent, committed, strategic.

But for most of my musical life, there was not much enjoyment in the process of practicing. The exceptions were when I was having a particularly “good” day playing. These days were few and far between.

It was mostly a “no pain, no gain” attitude that I brought into the practice room. You know, the “If it sounds good, you’re probably not practicing” kind of thing. I practiced for one reason only: to improve. (To be clear, wanting to improve is still important to me!)

But all this began to change as I discovered the Alexander Technique as an effective way to help me deal with a debilitating neurological condition known as focal dystonia.

An essential principle of the Alexander Technique is in giving the “quality of process” top priority in any activity you’re engaged in. In short, you learn to not just focus on your desired goal (the specific thing you’re trying to achieve musically/technically, as you practice), but to always pursue that goal in a way that is in best accordance to your human design and your intentions.

Ease, economy of effort, balance, poise…these qualities of psychophysical experience become as important as the desired musical/technical result itself.

F.M. Alexander described this commitment to the quality of process in activity as the “means whereby”. Or as I say, the quality of “how I use myself doing whatever it is I do”.

So by design, paying attention to the means whereby means being present…curious, receptive, reflective, purposeful, edifying, self-compassionate, playful…It also means being willing to take your time in doing what you do. Not getting ahead of yourself, so to speak.

When you bring these qualities into your daily musical practice, you just naturally practice “better”. You become more efficient in your efforts, more effectively strategic, more open and honest in what you actually “hear” as you practice, what you’re actually capable of. You become more willing to explore being “wrong” to find new possiblities.

You also become so much clearer about what you want, about who you are as an artist.

But you can also learn that being this mindful in the practice room has a remarkable effect on your conscious experience as a whole.

You can discover that paying attention to the quality of the “how” of your practice routine provides a meditative experience. An experience of mindfulness in movement, merged with intention.

In this experience your brain activity actually changes, as in any type of meditation practice. And you might find that you enjoy these new changes in your consciousness, that you find this kind of “presence” in your practice routine as being deeply satisfactory.

And ultimately, you can bring this kind of mindfulness into your daily life, learning to be present and engaged in even the most seemingly mundane activities.

So instead of just practicing as a “means to an end”, you might find that the process of practicing becomes an end unto itself.

How do you go about doing this?

Start with looking for ease in yourself: an easy, fluent and stable connection to the ground; free and expansive neck and shoulders; mobile hips, knees and ankles; full, dynamic, natural breathing, etc.

Then get clear about what it is you want in the moment, what specifically you’re aiming for (musically/technically) as you engage with your instrument.

Use your time mindfully, as well. Choose to stop, to pause, to redirect your attention between “takes” while practicing a particular exercise.

Cultivate curiosity. Ask yourself lots of questions:

“What would I like to have happen?” (What do you want musically/technically?)

“How am I ‘using’ myself right now” (Are you free, mobile and expansive?)

“What am I actually hearing?” (Are you listening openly and actively?)

“What shall I do next?” (Should you repeat what you’ve just played, or move on? Why, or why not?)

Finally, practice being kind to yourself. Take your time. Speak to yourself gently. Smile at your “mistakes” and learn from each one. Realize that the act of practicing your instrument is actually a way of deepening your discovery and understanding of yourself.

Be grateful for this remarkable experience of creating and sensing resonance. And for being able to once more, each day, go inside yourself to find beauty and send it out into the world (even if you’re the only one there to hear it!)

I’ve been practicing through these principles for over 18 years now, and I can tell you that the intrinsic satisfaction of daily practice is a precious, “stand-alone” gift. And as a bonus, I continue to improve and grow as a musician, and as a human being, in ways I never before imagined.

I wish the same for you, too.

New Jazz Etude: 5/8 Combined With 3/4 Over ii-V7-I in 4/4

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Here’s a way to use familiar sounding tonal colors and tensions in surprising new ways. By simply organizing the melodic shapes to imply various odd metered subdivisions, you can create lots if interesting rhythmic tension.

Take a look at the example above. In the first measure, I’m using an F major pentatonic scale that is ascending in two, five-note subdivisions: F-D-C-A-G; then moving up to D and ascending again: D-C-A-G-F. As you can see, these two shapes combined “go over the bar line” into the second measure. By virtue of the contour of these two pentatonic patterns, I’ve implied a subdivision of 5/8. (I’ve placed accents to mark the subdivisions, but even without them, the 5/8 feeling is clearly there when you play it.)

In the next measure, I simply ascend on the diminished scale (D-E-F-G-Ab-Bb). This ascending pattern clearly implies a 3/4 subdivision, especially as it is contrsted to the previous 5/8 subdivisions. I use the Bb of the diminished scale (functioning as the #9 of the G7 chord) to resolve to the B natural (the 7th) of the Cmaj7 chord. The line then returns to the 5/8 subdivisions, as I use the notes of the Cmaj7 chord to create a contour to imply this subdivision. In the fourth measure, I place an accent over the “D” (the 9th of the Cmaj7 chord), then add a quarter rest, followed by a quarter note (“A”). This has a net effect of both implying a 3/4 subdivision, as well as providing a “pickup” note to connect the line into the fifth measure, where the original line begins in the new key (F major).

Most definitely practice this with a metronome. Explore setting the clicks on beats one and three; two and four; beat two only; beat four only. This will give you a chance to really feel the “lopsided-ness” of the odd-metered subdivisions in relation to your imagination of the four-measure, 4/4 form that houses the ii-V7-I progression. Also, practice this with both a “straight” eighth note feel, and a swing feel. If you’d like to further explore the use of implied odd-meters over 4/4, please consider my e-book, Essential Polymeter Studies in 4/4 for the Improvising Musician. And if you’d like to discover some new ways to approach the ii-V7-I chord progression, please consider another of my e-books, ii-V7-I: 40 Creative Concepts for the Modern Improviser. For a free, downloadable pdf of this etude, click the link below:

https://billplakemusic.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/11/58-Combined-with-34-Over-ii-V7-I-in-44-1.pdf

All Your Musical Expression Depends Upon This

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Whether you’re simply producing a sound, running a scale pattern, playing an etude, or improvising a phrase…none of this is possible without movement.

Now, that might seem obvious, but it has deep implications. You simply can’t have music without movement.

Even in computer-generated music, something has to move in order to produce music. Things have to be coordinated with respect to time so that we as listeners can have a meaningful, musical experience.

But in this post, I’m talking specifically about the movements you make on your particular instrument to produce music.

Without movement, without human movement, there is no musical expression on any type of acoustically generated instrument. You move air, you create friction on strings, you strike things…

And the quality of your musical expression is deeply conditioned by the quality of the movement you use to play your instrument.

Musicians are movers. To be a skillful musician, you must also be a skillful mover. Every single technical or pedagogic problem a musician is having is, by design, a problem with movement.

And I’m not just talking about the quality of the movement of the specific bodily parts that seem to be most involved in playing your instrument. I’m not talking only about skilled fingers, or hands, or feet, or facial muscles, per se. (Though these things are clearly important!)

No, I’m talking about something much broader: the coordination of your entire self.

I use that word, “self”, very carefully here. Because from a functional, neurophysiologic point of view, you are much more than a mass of flesh and bone playing an instrument. You are a whole, interdependently integrated organism, whose attention, (and intentions!) impact the quality of both your specific skill, and your overall coordination.

Movement is something that falls under an even larger umbrella called reaction. How you move in space, how you maintain posture and balance, how you hear/listen, how you use your time, are all under this umbrella.

As you play your instrument, you are constantly reacting to a plethora of stimuli, both internal and external (what you hear, imagine, feel, want, sense, etc.) How you react to all this stimuli is manifested through your movement.

And the quality of those movements can either support, or interfere with, your musical expression.

So pay gentle attention to how you move, to how you react moment to moment as you practice and perform on your instrument.

What is the overall quality of your movement? How would you describe it? Is it fluid, mobile, grounded, light and efficient? Do you have a dynamic relationship to the ground? Are you simultaneously free, and stable?

If you answered “no” to any of these questions, keep in mind that you can change. You have the capacity to choose more mindfully efficient ways to move.

My work as an Alexander Technique teacher is designed at helping musicians discover and restore the quality of movement that is most helpful to optimal musical performance. It is something that I not only teach, but that I also apply to my own musical practice every day. It enables me to discover ever more efficient movement possibilities when playing saxophone. It steers me toward clarity as I express myself musically.

So if you’d like to play your instrument with greater ease, expression and control, consider the overall quality of your movement. Give it top priority. Allow your neck and shoulders to move freely, let the ground support you, let your ribs move easily as you breathe, and aim at moving with a light, upward, and expansive quality.

Think “balance and mobility” rather than “position and posture”. Speak to yourself kindly. Take your time. Explore. Cultivate curiosity. Believe that there is always more ease available to you. (Because there is!) Move well, play even better. Enjoy!

Remember to Pay Attention to This Important (Yet Too Often Overlooked) Component of Your Practice Routine

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The first time I give an Alexander Technique lesson to any musician, there are three things in particular that I’m going to pay the closest attention to before they even play one note on their instrument:

1. How they describe the problem (or perceived need) that led them to see me for help.

2. How they maintain their upright “stature” (habits of misuse or imbalance in sitting, standing and moving in general).

3. How they assemble their instrument to prepare to play.

It is this third thing (assembling the instrument) that I wish to address in this post.

What I often see in a first lesson when a musician gets ready to take the instrument out of the case, is a considerable amount of what we refer to in the Alexander Technique as “misuse”.

Usually this entails lots of compression in the body:

Head pulled down onto the spine.

Shoulders narrow and held.

Arms, fingers and hands tensing up.

Forehead wrinkling as the eyes go into a fixed and narrow gaze.

Ribs being held to temporarily hold the breath.

Spine collapsed and knees locked while bending to pick up the instrument.

And more.

In short, lots of misdirected effort…

Plus, there is nearly always a sense of hurriedness in the entire process, as if the “task” of putting the instrument together is just some mindless necessity to get out of the way so that the “real” activity can actually start.

Yet it is the very act of preparing your instrument that can have a profound impact upon how you proceed with the rest of your practice session. Most notably in two ways:

First, how you’re organizing your attention to prepare for the work ahead.

Second, what you’re doing in your body as you prepare for this work. (To be clear, both of these things are inextricably related.)

Whenever I see a musician “scramble” to mindlessly assemble the instrument, what I also notice in their “use” as they begin to play is simply a continuation of that same psychophysical state. In other words, misdirected effort in assembling is followed by a similar misdirected effort when actually playing.

So when you practice each day, consider paying attention to what you are doing with yourself as you move toward, and assemble, your instrument.

Here are some things to keep in mind and to aim for:

Give yourself time. It all starts here. Not only in being more leisurely in how you approach and assemble your instrument, but also giving yourself a chance to return to the present moment. Think of it as a brief “warmup meditation”.

Aim for light, easy and balanced. Whether you’re sitting or standing, allow yourself to release into the length and width of your full stature. No need to sit up or stand up “straight”, simply let the ground support you and expand upward and out into the room.

Breathe. You don’t need to take a breath, or even breathe deeply. Just bring your attention gently to your nostrils and notice that you already are breathing. Taking time in doing so is moving you in the right psychophysical direction for practice.

Proceed with freedom and ease. Be mindful of how you move toward your instrument. As you bend, allow your hips knees and ankles to work together in a gently integrated way. Aim for balance, suppleness, and lively but light mobility.

Be kind to the case. If you’re instrument is in its case, take your time opening latches, zippers, etc., As you do so, pay attention (and wish for) the same easy, spacious use of yourself you had in moving toward your instrument.

Be kind to your instrument. Aim for the same quality in your hands as you reach for your instrument you’d like to have when you’re actually playing it. It is sometimes this first contact with your instrument that can set the tone and mood of your practice session. And of course, assemble it with love, care, and a sense of gratitude. (You’re getting ready to do the thing that lights up your heart and soul!)

Be kind to yourself. Expect good things. Caress that first note with a gentle curiosity, as if you’re gradually discovering your sound. Listen to and realize that sound, then wish for more as you continue to explore and shape your sound to suit your imagination.

So notice how you approach and assemble your instrument when you begin your practice session. Discover how being gently mindful in doing so can become an essential part of an efficient and effective warm up. Follow the procedures I’ve detailed above, and enjoy the difference!