July | 2014 | Bill Plake Music

I had the good fortune some years back to study the saxophone with Los Angeles woodwind doubler guru, Bill Green. The older I get, the more I appreciate (and put into practice) the things he taught me.

Bill played all of the instruments in the traditional woodwind family: the saxophones, clarinets, flutes, as well as oboe (English horn, too) and bassoon (including contra!) His ability to move from one to another and play with considerable ease, confidence and skill was his calling card. (He played on countless television and motion picture recording sessions.) Needless to say, he was a highly disciplined musician, who practiced a great deal.

One of the things Bill always had going on was a “project”, as he called it. This was his way of describing the ongoing, dedicated work that he applied toward developing (or improving upon) a very specific skill.

The need for these “micro” skills was constantly revealed to him through his work. He loved to find technical demands that “put him in the wrong”, and find a way to master them.

For example, some of his projects were things like: slurring rapidly between high ‘E’ and high ‘A’ on the flute; double tonguing in the first octave of the English horn; playing secondary minor triads in all keys on the soprano saxophone up into the altissimo register.

He went deep into these projects, was very methodical in his approach to them, and was entirely mindful and disciplined in his pursuit.

He told me that no matter what he needed to practice on any given day, he made a commitment to spend a predetermined amount of time on his project until he achieved his objective. For some projects this was maybe 10-15 minutes per day, and for others, as much as an hour.

By practicing this way, he developed three very valuable assets:

1. A continuously growing set of skills that expanded his capabilities as a studio musician, effectively increasing his chances to work more frequently, and express himself more readily.

2. A sense of self-efficacy. (He developed an iron-clad confidence in his ability to analyze and effectively prescribe and carry out the work necessary to deal with any pedagogical difficulty that might come his way.)

3. The intrinsic reward of solving problems. (He didn’t avoid the “impossible”; he actively sought it out and welcomed it with joy.)

For many years I have applied this approach to deepening my own skills, both as a saxophonist and as an improviser. I tend to balance the regular, daily work of my practice (tone production, technical studies, eartraining, Improvisational work, etc.) with some kind of a project.

Of course, these projects are often specific elements nestled into the above mentioned “daily work”. (For example, this last week I started a project involving slurring overtones on the saxophone in ever-widening intervals using the octave key; really helpful for adding complex color and resonance to my sound!)

Many of my projects are to develop specific improvisational skills, whether it be aural familiarity and control of specific tonalities (forming diatonic triad pairs from the 6-note augmented scale was a recent project), or of time, rhythm and/or form (playing “Giant Steps” in 7/8 was a project from about two years ago).

Here’s something very important that I learned from practicing this way: I never lose the skill I’ve acquired. I just keep building upon what I have. The skills become part of who I am as a musician, become integrated into what I do, and readily available.

So if you don’t have a project, I heartily suggest that you find one and dedicate yourself to carrying it out. Here are some guidelines that might help you:

Start with your need, and turn that into genuine interest. What would you like to improve upon? What sparks your interest? What would the possibilities be in your musical expression with this new skill?

Examine your motivation? Does your wish for this new skill come from inspiration or fear? It’s best if it comes from inspiration, from a place of love and positive energy (see my point above).

Balance addition with subtraction. Keep in mind that not all improvement means adding things. Lots of pedagogy is aimed at subtracting things: bad habits to be specific. If you’re struggling with certain things technically, ask yourself, “What do I need to stop doing to improve in this area?” (For example, are you stiffening your fingers, needlessly tensing your facial muscles and/or jaw?) Then aim at playing with greater ease and control by subtracting the excess tension.

Work as specifically as possible. Define not only your goal, but also, how you can best carry it out. Sit down with pencil and paper and think your practice strategy and prescription through. (It’s worth the time to do so, I promise you!)

But don’t be too specific about time. Aim for a clearly defined goal (for example, “to play this particular scale in sixteenth notes at quarter note equals 120 in all three octaves”). Carry out the work in daily sessions (with predetermined time allotments for each session), but don’t get too hung up on how long (weeks, months) it should take. If it’s taking more time than you think it should, reassess (and then see below:)

Smaller is better. Make sure your project is attainable in a relatively short period of time (one week, to let’s say, three months). Anything that takes longer is not really a project but is either an ongoing skill (a daily practice habit) or it is several projects needing to be separated out and defined. When in doubt, cut it in half. You’ll stay motivated this way, as you keep your effort in close proximity to the desired result.

Aim for ease in yourself. No matter what the goal of your project is, one of the requirements should be that you cultivate a natural and efficient use of yourself as you carry it out. If you’re adding tension to what you do, you’re most likely moving in the wrong direction.

Always have a project. Get in the habit of not only knowing what you’re current project is (and where you are in reaching your goal with it), but also, what your next project might be.

One of the things I notice with many musicians who don’t seem to improve (despite their daily practice) is a “maintenance” approach in their practice, addressing only the very general pedagogical skills, but with little (if any) deliberate work toward specific skills that are outside of their reach.

If you continue to work on the basics every day, yet always have a project that brings you into a deeper, more specific set of skills, you can’t help but improve. It worked for the maestro, Bill Green, it’s been working for me, and it can work for you, too.

One of the aims (and benefits) of studying the Alexander Technique is an improved sense of awareness. Without exception, my students gain measurable improvements, not only in their kinesthetic (body) awareness, but also, in their overall awareness through their other senses, as they play music. They learn to hear more vividly, perceive time more accurately, and notice subtleties in themselves (and the music) more readily.

Yet, most of the musicians I teach already come to me with a more acute awareness of their bodies than the average person. It is not difficult at all to get musicians to notice what they’re doing with themselves as they play. Here’s a typical exchange between me and one of my students in a first lesson:

“What do you notice about your shoulders as you bring your hands to your instrument?”

“I lift them up.”

“What do you notice about your head and neck when you to that?”

“I kind of scrunch my head down into my shoulders.”

“Can you see how that could have a negative impact on your playing? Maybe interfering with the freedom in your arms and hands?”

“Yes, now that you mention it. Sure.”

In contrast, when I give a first Alexander Technique lesson to the average person who doesn’t play music, it is usually not quite like the above exchange. We may be working on a simple activity, like rising from a chair, or beginning to speak. As I ask the same questions about the head, neck and shoulders, it is most typical for my student to draw a blank. (My job starts here by helping them become aware.)

But as I continue to ask my musician students in their first lesson about noticing things as they play, it becomes clear that it is not their inability to do so that’s causing the problem (prompting them to seek me for help in the first place).

So what is causing the problem?

In the simplest sense, it’s not a lack of awareness, but a misinterpretation of bodily sensation. You see, it’s not that most musicians have difficulty noticing these things (once they’re pointed out), it just that they often don’t perceive of these things as misdirected effort (the very thing that is causing their problems as they play!)

Instead they think of what they do is part and parcel of what it takes to play music. It’s a kind of “over-efforting” that not only feels right, but even seems necessary in order to play their instrument. Becoming aware of these tense gestures is the first step.

The next is to reinterpret them for what they actually are: unnecessary habits of misdirected tension. That’s not always an easy thing to do, as many musicians are quite attached to the physical sensations of playing their instrument. It’s not unusual for a musician to want to feel that they’re working hard (even though it’s creating difficulties). This sometimes becomes almost an addiction, an affirmation that they’re playing “well”.

And to make matters more complicated, my students will often have an almost religious reverence for certain points of pedagogy taught to them that they believe to be virtually indisputable (usually dispensed to them by another excellent musician/teacher).

My job is to connect the new experiences of playing without the excess effort, to my student’s reasoning, and (ever-increasing) knowledge. This is a matter of re-education: helping them to better understand the actual acoustical demands and principles of playing their instrument as it relates to the way their bodies can best accommodate these demands and principles.

I encourage my students to not believe what I say because I say it, but rather, because it can be tested and found to be true. I want them to know why they choose to do (or not do) something with themselves as they play. They need to own it. They gain this ownership through direct experience.

The next step in this process (once they’ve clarified their misconceptions about their bodies) is to learn how to play without going into their habit. This is where the real work (and real value!) of the Alexander Technique comes into play.

By design and necessity, this happens gradually. But the changes that take place can be absolutely remarkable.

Here’s the good news

Because you’re a musician, you already have the skill set to be able to notice many subtle (and not so subtle) things about yourself as you play. This is a HUGE advantage, and can really speed up your progress if you wish to change your habitual tension patterns. Whether you have problems with chronic pain, and/or coordination, being able to pay attention to yourself as you play gives you a definite leg up.

If you find a good, AmSAT certified Alexander Technique teacher, you can find how quickly you can learn to interpret what’s happening in your body in an accurate and more helpful way. You’ll learn that all that extra effort with your head, neck, back and shoulders, your locked knees, tense feet, noisy breathing and squinting brow don’t help you one bit when it comes to making music.

And of course, always feel free to contact me if y0u need help. I would be my honor and pleasure to do so!

Playing music can be much easier than you perhaps thought. Use your skills of awareness to help you discover how much easier it can actually be.