Monthly Archives: March 2014

Your Equipment: Keeping Things In Perspective

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Musicians and their gear. The topic itself brings up endless stories (not to mention debates), no matter what instrument you play.

As a saxophonist, I’m not immune to sometimes misunderstanding the role of my equipment with respect to my musical ability. (Many of us saxophonists love going on endlessly about instruments, neck pipes, mouthpieces, ligatures, reeds….)

But I always come back to this simple, truthful mantra (I’ve heard declared by some of the wiser saxophonists I’ve come to know here in Los Angeles):

“Your equipment either gets in your way, or gets out of your way. “

And it is as simple as that. You make the music. Your equipment doesn’t. It either interferes with your musical imagination and inspiration, or it doesn’t.

(To be clear, I’m not talking here about metronomes, apps, music stands, microphones, cases and such. I’m talking about the music making part of your gear, e.g., instrument, mouthpiece, strings, sticks, etc.)

Here are two extreme points of view about equipment that can lead to problems:

1. “My equipment is primarily responsible for my musical results (therefore, I’m not).” Musicians who think this way tend to always be looking for some new miracle piece of gear that will solve their problems. They’re always changing things (mouthpieces, instruments, etc.) in an eternal quest to find something (skill) that  can only be attained through intelligent, mindful and disciplined musical study.

They’re also quick to run to the repair tech the moment they’re having a bad day practicing. (It can’t be something I’m doing! It must be the horn.) The problem with this attitude is that it takes the responsibility for successful results off the shoulders of the player. By doing so it stifles the development of skills, and leads to endless frustration (not to mention expense!)

If you find you’re always looking for the “next best thing”, do yourself a favor and stay with one thing for a good while. Learn to really play on what you have before you venture off to find something new. Come to know exactly how this particular bit of gear is holding you back. Try to understand as clearly as possible the role of your equipment in relationship to your role as the player.

2. “If I’m having difficulty playing my instrument, it must be entirely my fault.” The other extreme is to blame yourself exclusively for everything that you don’t like about your playing. Sometimes it really is and equipment issue. Maybe the mouthpiece you’re using actually is unsuitable for your instrument (and/or your anatomical make up, and/or your musical conception).

People with this attitude don’t visit the repair tech enough. (I’ve been guilty of this myself sometimes.) If they’re struggling to play it must be them. As admirable as that attitude is (taking full responsibility for results), the truth of the matter is that sometimes you just need to get your instrument repaired. Not doing so leads to frustration, stunted development (not to mention what it does to your self confidence!)

Whether an ill-suited piece of gear, or an instrument in need of repair, in both cases the equipment is “getting in your way.” If you lean towards always blaming yourself, make it a habit to try different instruments, mouthpieces, etc., from time to time on a timely basis. And try to see a tech regularly, even if things seem fine. (I make it a point to visit mine every 2 months. I’m so glad that I do).

And if you are even reasonably sure that some bit of your equipment is defective, worn or has in some other way gone wrong, don’t take it personally. For example, if you know you’re playing on a dying saxophone reed, don’t morph that fact into the absurd notion that your sound has mysteriously changed for the worse because of something you’re doing wrong all of the sudden. Just find a better reed. Then get on with it.

As a final thought, regardless of your relationship to your equipment, the most important thing of all to remember is that you are the primary instrument. As I stated above, you make the music. So in this respect, take care that you are operating at an optimum level when playing.

As a teacher of the Alexander Technique, my job is to help musicians improve the quality of how they use themselves as they use their instruments to make music. If , when you play, your neck and shoulders are overly tense, your breathing forced and noisy, your legs are stiff and unyielding,  then you’re never going to get your best results.

Take responsibility for yourself first, find equipment that gets out of your way (and take care of it, too!), practice mindfully, and get on with the business of improving as a musician (and enjoy playing that much more!)

The Positive Power Of Saying “No”

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The word “no” often gets a bad rap, especially in the realm of self-improvement. Saying “yes” opens and expands the possibilities goes the conventional wisdom, whereas saying “no” closes or limits them.

I’d say that’s mostly true.

Except sometimes saying saying “no” opens up unexpectedly wonderful possibilities.

As a teacher of the Alexander Technique (and as a musician who applies the Technique to my practice and performance) the ability to effectively say “no” is the most powerful tool I  know of to make profound and lasting changes.

How could that be?

Let’s start with what it is I’m saying “no” to.  With saxophone in hand, the moment I think about playing a single note, my brain readies me for the task. It does so by “pre-firing” the muscles involved in playing the saxophone. I’ll call that my habitual response. (And yes, we do need habit to play music or to do just about anything else, for that matter.)

In the past my habitual response would be to tighten my neck, pull down into myself, stiffen my shoulders and suck air in noisily to inhale. I would also narrow my focus and shift my attitude into an almost warrior-like fashion, cutting myself of completely from anything except the thought of playing.

Much of that “pre-fired” pattern of muscular response was not only unnecessary to playing my instrument, but also, inefficient and harmful. 

What also came along with this habitual response was trouble. Besides the neck, shoulder and back pain I was getting, I was also developing some serious coordination issues that threatened my playing career.

Then I discovered the Alexander Technique. I immediately realized that for me to change these now debilitating habits, I had to learn to effectively say “no” to my habitual response to playing the saxophone. To make a very long story short, I have learned, and my playing has not only dramatically improved, but I continue to be edified and continue to cultivate my artistic expression by going deeper into the power of no.

You see, when you say “no” to your habit, you say “yes” to the possibility that something different will happen. You actually expand the possibilities.

When I learned to say “no” to all the tension and struggle I was bringing upon myself, I became free to play more in accordance with my imagination and intentions (and I continue to cultivate this freedom).

I teach classes in the Alexander Technique at the American Musical and Dramatic Academy in Los Angeles (part of a BFA and conservatory program for singers, actors and dancers). In one of the first class sessions, I have the students explore the power of no by playing a simple children’s game, called Simon Says.

As you probably know, Simon Says is a game in which “Simon” (in this case, me) gives various commands that you must carry out (like raising a hand, for example). But you can only carry out Simon’s command if he precedes it by saying “Simon Says”. If you carry out the command without Simon saying “Simon Says” you lose.

I’ve become very good at being Simon, and can usually stump an entire class of 12 students in no time. Then we talk about why the lost and we begin again. After playing two or three more times, I can’t stump anybody. They’ve all mastered the winning principle of the game.

And this winning principle is to stay in a constant state of saying “no” to oneself until the time is right, until Simon says. (In Alexander Technique jargon, we call this  conscious state of “no” inhibition.)

The most interesting thing to me as I play this game is how the students appear differently from start to finish. In the first round, their eyes are focused and narrow. Their shoulders and necks are tense. Lots of breath holding, too. They’re all in what I call a “hyper-reactive” frame of mind.

By the time we get to the third round (mind you, I stop between each round and give them some guidance) they look completely different. Soft faces, calm eyes, easy breathing, freer necks and shoulders. They look poised.

I tell them, “Now you are in a state of true readiness. You’re calm but alert. This is a great state to be in when you perform.” For many of them that’s a revelation. Performance mode has always been a hectic, tense scramble. Now it is anything but.

I usually have one or two of them perform right after this. The results are often stunningly different. Easy, powerful, authentic performances. This becomes the door that we use to explore performance for the rest of the semester. Saying “no” begins to have a powerfully positive meaning to these students.

As a jazz artist, I can usually hear (and see, if it’s a live performance) when an improviser is in this “no” state of mind. Certainly Miles Davis was in this state most of the time when he played, as was Lester Young.

To be clear, it’s not a dead and passive state of mind. It is an active state of mind that allows you to say “yes” to good things that might happen. Yes to joyful surprise. And that’s good for both artist and listener.

I’d say that when I’m in finding good flow as I’m playing (when I’m in the zone) that I’m in a perpetual state of no. It’s as if I’m waiting patiently for the music to come through me. It’s a beautiful thing.

So notice how you react as you go to play your instrument. Do you prepare to play that first note by tensing up and narrowing your focus? What happens to your shoulders and neck? Do you stiffen your legs? Your arms? Does your attention narrow or expand? What happens to your breathing?

If you find that your starting with too much tension, practice saying “no” to yourself as you begin again. See if you can reduce that tense response even a little bit. If you’re persistent in this endeavor, you’ll be delighted in how you can improve.