Tag Archives: Self-care for Musicians

Breathing: Avoid This Misconception About “Moving the Air”

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Whereas most of my blog posts are written with all instrumentalists in mind, this particular post is aimed exclusively towards wind instrumentalists and singers. It addresses a common misconception about how you manage the movement of the air on the exhalation  as you play or sing.

The idea has to do with the concept of the “velocity” of the airstream.

As you know, you must use your respiratory mechanism in an extraordinary way when singing or playing a wind instrument. You are not simply breathing in a completely passive way. You are using your breath with an energetic purpose that serves both function (physiological and mechanical) and self-expression.

And of course, the “working part” of the breath cycle is the exhalation. In large part, this kind of management of the exhalation involves changing the velocity  of the airstream.

Yet, what you do with yourself  to manage those necessary changes in air speed can significantly impact not only your breathing, not only your sound, but also the coordination of your entire body and ultimately, your skill.

One of the ways that air is “sped up” is by “compressing” the airstream. (In short, everything else being equal, a narrower airstream means “faster air”.)

And there’s where the problems sometimes begin.

I once watched a video of a highly skilled, fairly well-known trumpet player talking about the importance of “compression” when using the airstream.

In fact, it was something that he encouraged his viewers to do consciously each time they began to play a note or a phrase.

Now, he was talking about doing something with the airstream, but it was interesting for me to see what he was doing with his whole self  as he carried out the instructions he advocated.

His entire body went into a state of “compression”.

Specifically, his head was pulled down onto his spine, his ribs were pulled downward with great force toward his abdomen (which was actively involved in distorting his pelvis), and his shoulders became rigid and narrow. I couldn’t see his lower half, but I imagine that was affected as well.

In essence, as this very fine trumpet player compressed his airstream, he simultaneously compressed and shrunk himself. (For the record, I’m not here to criticize this musician, only to call into question some of his ideas. I’d say he plays very well, despite  what he’s doing with himself.)

But here’s the truth:

For you to compress your airstream you don’t need to compress yourself.

Really. You don’t.

You certainly need to use a considerable amount of muscular energy to move the air, especially at high velocities.

But this muscular energy doesn’t need to involve shortening your three-dimensional stature.

Here’s why.

First, because of the way your ribs attach to and move with your spine, the natural, structural tendency of your spine is to lengthen  on the exhalation.

It will do so, even with tremendous muscular energy, if you let it.

Second, by forcefully pulling your ribs downward into your abdomen, you are interfering with two things: The full excursion of the diaphragm and the full excursion of the ribs.

The movement of the ribs in concert with the diaphragm is essential to optimal breathing.

Third, by compressing your respiratory mechanism in this manner as you exhale, you signficantly impact the coordination of the following inhalation, again limiting the excursion of the ribs and diaphragm.

It is these reciprocal excursion patterns between the ribs and the diaphragm (and other parts of you, as well) that are essential to all breathing, both natural and task-specific.

So what to do instead?

Mostly, subtract a few things.

First, subtract a noisy, forced inhalation (which often carries with it a tense jaw). Instead, aim for a free, energetic and expansive reflexive  inhalation.

Second, don’t pull your head down into your spine. If you need more muscular energy, direct it upwards, as you ride the wave of your naturally lengthening spine. Allow your neck and jaw to be supple and responsive.

Third, avoid pulling your ribs down forcefully on the exhalation. Imagine your ribs (including the muscles between them) as being in an active, but gentle state of opposition to your upward moving spine. As your ribs slowly descend, your spine gently lengthens, as you move the air into your instrument at the most optimal velocity.

Fourth, allow your abdominal muscles to respond  to the needs of moving the airstream, as opposed to a preconceived set amount of tension. If you work with this idea a while, you’ll learn to trust that your intention with your sound (range, color, pitch, etc.) will inform your neuromuscular system to do the right thing with your abs (and all the other muscles involved in supporting your airstream and sound). This “response” I’m talking about will take place instantly, optimally and organically. Naturally, if you will.

In sum, aim towards separating the concept of air  compression from bodily compression. To be clear, I’m not talking about using less  muscular effort, so much as avoiding misdirected  muscular effort.

Allow yourself to move freely and energetically (always aiming upward), with a three-dimensionally expanding  organism. You might be surprised at how much easier and more efficiently you can “move your air” to create the sound you wish for. And as a bonus, you’ll avoid some of the patterns of misuse that often lead to fatigue and injury. Win/win.

Healthy and Efficient Practice: Aim for Wanting This at the End of Each Session

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Part of my work as practice coach is in helping musicians clarify their wishes. This involves suggesting ways to reframe what they want in a manner that is most conducive to actually getting it.

One of the most fundamental desires I encourage my clients to cultivate has to do with how they feel at the end of a practice session. I typically tell them something like this:

At the end of your practice session, aim at having enough energy so that you feel like doing a little more. You should really look forward to practicing again the next day.

It sounds like a simple thing (and it is), but it is not always so easy to carry out.

You see, many serious musicians too often end their practice sessions feeling either one of two things:

1. Utterly exhausted

2. Utterly frustrated

(And of course, sometimes the practice session ends with feeling both exhausted and frustrated!)

Let’s examine both of these things.

If you end each session feeling exhausted (physically and/or mentally), you run the risk of  either:

Developing an overuse issue, which could lead to various types of repetitive strain injuries. Or…

Cultivating habits of coordination (movement and posture) that are a potential hinderance to your continued growth.

If you leave each session feeling frustrated, you run the risk of either:

Slowly smothering your inspiration (and pleasure) in making music, which can lead to burnout. Or…

Gradually diminishing your curiosity about how  you do what you do, which is also a hinderance to you continued growth.

To be clear, I’m not talking about the kind of frustration that is a result of simply not having enough time to practice. (That’s a topic for another blog post.)

I’m talking about having a reasonably sufficient amount of time to practice, yet feeling frustrated with the progress (or lack thereof) in the session itself.

If you regularly  end your practice session feeling frustrated, the first thing you need to do is to seriously examine and call into question how  you’re doing what you do. It may be that you are simply misdirecting your efforts.

Aim for a better understanding of the problem (specifically, how things actually work acoustically, and how your bodily design can cooperate with this acoustical reality) instead of carrying out the same, misdirected efforts. (A good teacher can help with this.)

And there is a need for finding satisfaction  with the balance between the quality  and the amount  of work you do in each session. I’ve coached a fair amount of musicians who use the feeling of being exhausted as the benchmark of a good practice session.

It is often the misplaced desire to feel  this way that causes some of the very problems that lead these musicians to seek my help in the first place. (I say misplaced desire, because that feeling is not what is leading them to what they actually desire most: efficient, effective practice and continued progress.)

When the criteria of practice shifts to quality of process  (as opposed to a preconceived notion of sufficient quantity), the need to feel exhausted begins to diminish.  It gradually becomes replaced with the desire to continuously explore and clarify. That’s what leads to progress. And satisfaction.

So how do you feel at the end of a typical practice session?

Do you feel sore and dull, or energized and inspired? Do you feel like the quality of your work is as good as it was at the beginning of the session. Do you feel curious? What worked, and what didn’t? What would you do differently tomorrow? How could you do what you did even better than today?

And you don’t have to figure it all out in one sitting. Instead, let yourself “live in the mystery”. Let your curiosity be your guiding light.

When I studied with the great multi-woodwinds artist and Los Angeles recording studio legend, Bill Green, he told me something that fundamentally changed how I continue to approach practice to this day. (Bill Green was well known for practicing prodigiously, always gaining greater mastery on all of the saxophones, clarinets, flutes, as well as double reeds.). I’d like to pass it on to you what he told me:

Practicing music is like enjoying fine food. No matter how good it is, you’ll always enjoy it to the fullest if you leave the table feeling mostly satisfied, but leaving room for just a bit more.

So let yourself be just a tiny bit “hungry” each day as you end your practice session. You’ll stay healthy, curious and always growing.

Skill and Coordination (They’re Not Necessarily the Same Thing)

One of the aims of the Alexander Technique is to improve coordination.

And I would say more specifically for musicians, the aim of the Technique is to improve the quality of  overall  coordination that you use to implement your music making skills.

A misapprehension that many musicians have is that skill and coordination are one and the same thing.

Though they are certainly closely related, they’re not exactly  one and the same.

How so?

Allow me to clarify by offering my  working definitions of the two terms.

Your skill is your ability to carry out your desired task (for our purposes, playing music). It is manifested in tangible, sonic results: pitch, time, articulation, tone color, technical control, expression, etc.

Your coordination is what you do with your entire self  to carry out your skill. It is manifested in muscular effort, or more specifically, the quality of movement you apply to the task. (This includes balance, posture, breathing….everything you do!)

So it is possible to be a highly skilled musician (and yes, this does mean having highly cultivated  fine  motor coordination skills), yet have less than optimal overall, gross  motor coordination.

You can witness this in many instances, if you take time to notice.

Some musicians make it look easy, don’t they?

Truth be told, for most of these musicians, it is  easy. They typically appear effortless because their efforts are so singularly integrated into the skill of their performance. Virtually nothing they do interferes with their artistic intentions, with their desire of self-expression, nor with the acoustic and physiologic components involved in playing.

(I look upon classical pianist Artur Rubinstein as a glowing example: free neck, strong and flexible back and arms, moving easily, fluidly and naturally with the music. It is this beautiful, efficient coordination that is at the service of his skills.)

And I think we’ve all seen/heard virtuosic musicians who look like they’re fighting an imaginary foe as they play music: head compressed into the neck, raised (stiff) shoulders, rigid ribs and back, hard narrowed gaze, noisy breathing.

Yet they still deliver the goods. They still play devastatingly beautiful music. (No, I won’t point my finger at any one musician here, as a gesture of respect. But I so easily could!)

So should these musicians even bother with improving their overall coordination? Should you?

Yes. And for three main reasons:

1. Your overall coordination impacts your skill. When you are working in a less than optimally coordinated way, you are interfering with your brain/body’s ability to carry out your skill in the most efficient manner. In essence, you’re working against your human design, and not in accordance with it.  You might be able to do so. But you do so despite of, not because  of, your coordination. Improving your overall coordination invites greater skill. Or, as F.M. Alexander (the founder of the Alexander Technque) said, your improved coordination creates “the ideal conditions” for your skill to manifest itself through your bodily mechanism.

2. By improving your overall coordination, you reduce your risk of injury (and fatigue). This is why many musicians seek my help as an Alexander teacher in the first place. I have volumes of stories of very highly skilled musicians I’ve encountered who have career-threatening health issues that are related to the poor coordination they apply to their skill. As their coordination improves, so does their health, comfort, endurance and satisfaction.

3. By improving your overall coordination, you open yourself up to other expressive possibilities. This is the hidden gem of all this. As you improve your overall coordination, you also discover different ways to experience the music you play. You become less stereotyped (less “stuck”) in your interpretive choices, which, believe it or not, are highly conditioned by your bodily reactions. (This is especially true for improvising musicians!)

Our tendency as musicians is to sometimes become overly concerned with the parts that seem most pertinent to playing our instruments at the expense of neglecting the rest of ourselves. (For example, a flutist thinking perhaps too  much about the formation of the embouchure at the expense of not noticing neck and shoulder strain.)

If this sounds even remotely familiar to you, consider including  the quality of how you “use” your entire self (your overall coordination) into the consciousness of  playing your instrument.

Let your head be poised freely atop your spine (and of course, let your jaw be free). Let your shoulders release and widen. Soften your gaze. Let you knees unlock. If you’re standing, let your ankles be free and mobile (feet, too!) as you permit the ground to support you. Let your breathing be elastic, easy, reflexive and expansive.

Think balance, mobility and expansion, instead of position or  posture. A nice, lively, upward organization of your whole organism is the wish. Notice how these things impact your skill.

And of course, if you need any help in this area, consider finding a skilled Alexander Technique teacher. Allow your coordination to support your skill, and your expression.

Two Main Reasons Inefficient Practice Advice Gets Perpetuated

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One of the things I usually discover early on when teaching the Alexander Technique to musicians, is that part of the problem that led them to seek my help has to do with counterproductive pedagogy.

With a wind instrumentalist, for example, I might observe what appears to be a forced, tense, noisy, unnatural-looking inhalation before playing a note or phrase.

When I ask about this breathing habit, as often as not, I learn that it’s something that has been deliberately  cultivated. In other words, it is something that they do consciously as they play.

When I ask, “So why do you do it that way?”, the answer is usually something like, “Because that’s the way ‘so and so’ (insert name of highly respected musician here) says it should be done.”

Then I ask a second question: “Why do you think he/she does it that way?”

The answer that follows usually falls into one of two categories:

Either:

They don’t know why this great musician does it that why, but it obviously works best for them.

Or:

They “know” why this great musician does it that way, but the explanation they provide isn’t in accordance with the acoustical principles of the instrument and/or with the design of the human mechanism.

And so yet more misinformation by well-meaning experts gets perpetuated. Some of it benignly inefficient, some of it downright harmful (and everything in between).

So why/how do these “myths” get perpetuated?

Two reasons:

  1. Trusting without testing.
  2. It works (to a certain degree).

Let’s look at this first one, trusting without testing:

No matter what we might think about how our bodies work, or about how our instruments work, there are certain solid, measurable, scientific realities about how they really  work.

As a serious musician, it is your responsibility to continually improve and broaden your understanding of these things.

The more clearly you understand the real “hows and whys” of your organism (including how your thinking impacts this organism!), the better your sense of cause and effect becomes when being introduced to any new pedagogic principle and/or procedure.

If you comprehend the science behind playing your instrument, you’ll see that “some musicians do well (in part), not because  of what they do, but despite  what they do.” (All of my students, and some of my readers, will recognize this as one of the recurring themes in my teaching.)

It is not enough to trust and expert. You must also build a solid faith in the efficacy of a particular pedagogic element because it stands the test of actual, measurable fact. Cause and effect.

The second reason these inefficient practice ideas get perpetuated sounds contradictory to the point I’m trying to make here:

They work (to a certain degree).

It’s the “certain degree” part that opens the door to trouble. The reason for this is actually fairly simple.

Let’s go back to my earlier example about inhaling when playing a wind instrument. If you believe that you need to noisily suck in air as you try to force the air down into your abdominal region, in order for you to get a sufficient breath, you are simply working against nature.

You can’t put air “down into your gut”, because you have no lungs there. (And don’t talk about pushing the diaphragm outward to “make space for the air”; it doesn’t work like that, either.)

Yet the noisy, gasping, overly energetic breathing often accomplishes one thing: It creates a more “active” inhalation that engages more muscles (not necessarily in the most efficient way, mind you!), and that does seem to draw in more air than when you inhale in a more passive, unintentional  way.

But there is some unwanted baggage attached to this way of breathing.

To begin with, all this effort creates undue strain in your jaw, glottis and facial muscles. Not to mention the strain it puts on the rest of your body. I’ve had musicians come to me for help with chronic neck and back pain that is clearly related to these poor breathing habits.

Equally important, you lose touch with what it is like to have a free, naturally reflexive  inhalation.

It’s the free movement of the ribs, the diaphragm, the pelvic floor, and other muscles in the body that creates the kind of necessary expansion to draw in a deep breath. Combine this with the intention of the musical phrase and expression, and you’re good to go.

Yet, as long as you need to “feel” this forced inhalation as a “complete and full breath”, you will continue to work in this inefficient way.

And unfortunately, you’ll likely pass this advice onto your students. In Alexander Technique slang, we sometimes say that this is a case of “specifically focusing on a part, while neglecting the whole”.

So stay clear about these two things as you practice, explore and expose yourself to new ideas about playing your instrument. You’ll be better off (and so will your students!)

I’ll leave you with a quote from F.M Alexander, the founder and developer of the Alexander Technique:

If I went to a man to take singing lessons, it wouldn’t matter what he taught me, he couldn’t injure me.

This Change In Attitude Can Help You Play With Much Less Strain

The main thing I look for whenever I’m giving an Alexander Technique lesson to a musician for the first time is preparation.

I want to see what my student does those brief seconds before she or he starts to play.

Playing music involves movement, and movement requires preparation, whether it is done consciously or unconsciously. In short, this preparation could be described as habit.

But before I observe my student play for the first time, I spend lots of time asking questions. I want to get an idea not only of the challenges that have led this student to seek my help, but also, the thinking involved in playing music. It is this thinking that is often the foundation of the habits.

These musicians will have a large array of preparation habits, and I’ve never yet encountered two musicians who share identical habits.

Having said that, I can say that all of the musicians who come my way for help have one habit in common: They begin preparing to play by tensing themselves up.

In other words, the movement organized to play that first note involves lots of muscular contraction. A good deal of this muscular contraction is not only unnecessary to sustain  the act of playing the instrument, but it is also unnecessary to begin  the act of playing.

Much of this muscular organization can be attributed to attitude and belief. If you believe you need to tense yourself up to play, then you certainly will, for better or for worse.

But here’s the thing about virtually all human movement: It can begin with release instead of tension.

That’s right, the movement can start by letting something go, but un-latching something in yourself.

For example, if you’re standing and you wish to begin to walk, you can tense your neck and shoulders as you pull yourself down into your pelvis onto one side of your body to de-weight the leg necessary to start the first step, then pull your leg up into your pelvis in order to bend your knee. (This is a fairly apt description of what many people do as they begin to walk.)

On the other hand, you can move from standing into a walk by having these three things coming into play:

1. The intention to walk.

2. A light, upward organization in your body from your feet to the crown of your head (which involves letting your spine lengthen by releasing up and away from the ground).

3. A release in your ankles to allow your upwardly directed weight to fall forward to begin the walk as you release your knee to bend a leg.

(Try this sometime, and notice the difference. You’ll most likely feel lighter, taller and freer as you walk.)

Now to be clear, this isn’t a matter of relaxing every muscle in your body before you move. Even if you were able to do so (you actually can’t), you would fall into a heap on the ground.

No, what I’m talking about is a very simple principle: By starting the movement from muscular release, the rest of your body is free to make the muscular contractions necessary to carry out the movement in a more efficient way.

You can take this model into other common activities. For example, to speak or sing, you can start by the movement by releasing your jaw to let your mouth open.

Even picking something up off of the floor, you can begin the movement by releasing the joints necessary to let you bend down to take hold of the object on the floor. And then as you take the weight of the object you, rise by letting your weight release forward and up over your feet as you also let your shoulders release and widen to accept the load. (Now the tension necessary to carry the load is in play.)

And so it can be with playing your instrument. All you need to do is observer and redirect. Here are few things to pay attention to:

  • You can start by noticing all the gestures you make as you go from a state of “not playing” to “playing” as you hold your instrument.
  • Notice in particular what you do with your head, neck and shoulders that brief moment before you begin to play. Do you brace yourself by tightening your neck and pulling your head downwards onto your spine? Do you begin to pull your shoulders down into your ribs? Or pull them up toward your ears?
  • Do you begin to lock your knees? Stiffen your ankles? Grab the floor with your feet? (instead of letting your feet release into the floor)
  • What do you do with your eyes? Does your gaze become intense and focused? Does your brow furl up?
  • Does your jaw begin to tense? How about your tongue? Your facial mask?
  • And how about your breathing? If you’re singing or playing a wind instrument, are you making noisy, gasping inhalations as you suck in the air by overly tensing your neck and back muscles? (And if you’re not playing a wind instrument, are you beginning each phrase by sucking in air?)

If you find yourself starting to play with any (or all) of these gestures of tension, start by changing your attitude. See where you can substitute muscular contraction  with muscular release.

For example, rather than tensing your neck and tightening your chest and shoulders to noisily suck in air before blowing that first note, think instead that the breath can come in as a quick and light reflexive movement made possible as a result of letting go of the muscles in your neck, shoulders, ribs and back. You might be surprised at how easily and how quickly and fully your inhalation becomes when this actually happens.

So pay attention to yourself as you play. Find ways to initiate those first movements of playing your instrument with as much release  as possible. Then let the muscles in your body respond naturally and effectively to the task at hand.

By changing your attitude about movement in this way, you’ll gradually begin to redifine how little effort is actually needed to play your instrument. In doing so you can expect a lifetime of growth, improvement and increased satisfaction.