Category Archives: Alexander Technique and Music

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!

Clarifying A Common Misconception About Your Lungs To Help You Breathe More Optimally

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Uploaded to www.sxc.hu for use.

Many of the chronic problems wind instrumentalists and singers encounter with breathing are due, in part, because of misconception.

In particular, misconception of the structure, function and coordination of the mechanisms involved in both natural (passive) and extraordinary (as in playing or singing) breathing.

I’d like to address and clarify a very common misconception here in this post: the size and location of the lungs themselves.

Let’s start by some of the things some musicians think they are doing with their air:

“I’m putting the air down there in my belly.” Or, “I’m placing the air down into my diaphragm.” And other ideas to this effect.

I won’t digress here about why it’s impossible to “place the air down in your diaphragm”, other than to say that the air you inhale never goes directly into your diaphragm.

It enters into your lungs. Simple as that.

The primary function of your diaphragm is to assist in changing the size and shape of your lungs to facilitate inspiration and expiration. It does this in concert with your intercostal muscles (the muscles between your ribs), as well as with other auxiliary muscles.

So where are your lungs, exactly?

Well, they’re higher up and further back in your body than you might have thought. Here’s a simple, animated video from the DVD entitled, Move Well, Avoid, Injury, to help you get a visual on all this:

As you can see, the air doesn’t actually go into your “belly”. The three-dimensional movement of your abdominal area is largely on account of the displacement of the abdominal content, because of the movements of the diaphragm and ribs (and other structures, as well.)

So what’s the possible downside of trying to “put the air down there in your belly”?

Well, in the simplest sense, by trying to do the impossible, you’re most likely also interfering with your natural, optimal breathing coordination.

Whenever I see a wind instrumentalist trying to “put the air into the belly”, I typically also see a stiffening up of the neck and shoulders, accompanied by a downward compression of the head on top of the spine, and a narrowing, or hollowing, of the lower back.

All this tends to prevent the ribs from moving freely enough to sufficiently (and efficiently) transform the internal dimensions of the thoracic cavity (the part of your body including, and inside of, your ribs) that facilitates the movements necessary for full and dynamic breathing.

So take a good look at the video I’ve posted here. Notice the size and the specific location of your lungs, along with the range of movements the lungs go through via the actions of the ribs, diaphragm, and other muscles. By clarifying this misconception, you might very well discover a new freedom, flexibility and fullness with your breathing that had been eluding you in the past. Enjoy!

The Importance of Understanding Your Human Design

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A good percentage of musicians who seek my help as an Alexander Technique teacher do so because of chronic pain when playing their instruments.

And with some, it might not be because of pain, per se, but because of a palpable sense of strain and misdirected effort as they play.

Though the source of (and solution to) their problems vary, virtually all these musicians have one thing in common that is exacerbating their condition. Specifically, misconceptions about their human design in relation to making music on their instruments.

The thing that still amazes me after all these years of teaching, is that many of these misconceptions (that are causing some serious problems!) could so easily be remedied by taking the time to study and understand some very basic functional musculoskeletal anatomy and physiology.

Serious musicians give great attention to so many details of their craft and art. Sometimes obsessing over finding the best equipment, they also practice and study diligently and passionately, and are always on the lookout for anything to help them do what they do better.

Yet, as I’ve mentioned, far too many of them neglect to take the time to gain an accurate and detailed understanding of the workings of their most essential, primary instrument: themselves.

And that’s too bad. Because it is such a small, easily doable thing, really. In fact, sometimes just clarifying an anatomical reality is all it takes to solve a particular, debilitating problem.

Even spending a few hours studying and better understanding your design can make a significantly positive impact on how you practice and perform.

And if you teach, having this knowledge is not only essential, it is part and parcel of your responsibly to your students. They will have a far greater chance at success when you’re teaching them through the lens of anatomical and physiological accuracy.

So yes, understanding your human design is important. Very important.

The good new is that nowadays there are so many great, easily affordable and accessible resources to help you get the information you need.

I recently came across what I think is perhaps the most essential book on understanding our human design as it relates to any kind of movement and activity (including playing music!)

It’s entitled The Body in Motion: Its Evolution and Design. Written by Alexander Technique teacher, Neurodyamics specialist and scholar, Theodore Dimon, Ed.D, it functions as both an in depth tutorial and reference for how we are designed to move.

The thing I like most about it is that each aspect of our anatomical structure is introduced and described relative to our evolutionary development, and in particular, our unique upright, bipedal design.

The book starts by laying the groundwork for the origins of animal movement, and how a system of muscles and bones came to be. Though this might sound like just an interesting (or not) story, it is much more than that.

By helping you understand how we evolved, based upon environmental need, the author is also helping you build a foundation in understanding how all our musculoskeletal structures work together as an interdependent whole. (This is very important, and can help you to avoid a good deal of dubious information floating about in this day and age of the internet.)

Dr. Dimon goes on to demonstrate and explain the most essential aspect of our ability to produce skilled movement: our upright support. It is this system of support and suspension that serves as the foundation for the complexity of all human movement.

From here, he elucidates upon the various structures essential to this movement: the spine, shoulder girdle, limbs, (including the hands), and then onto the mechanisms of breath and voice and more (including muscular spirals, etc.)

The text is clear and concise, and always introduces new ideas/concepts/chapters in relation to the previous ones, tying everything together under the central organizing principle of our unique, upright human design.

It is written with the layperson in mind, and if you’re new to musculoskeletal anatomy, you won’t be overwhelmed with a litany of scientific terminology. Just essential, practical information.

The book is also very nicely and abundantly illustrated by G. David Brown, so that whatever the author is presenting, is supported by visuals. Part of this visual support includes simplified drawings that demonstrate the mechanical principles of how bones and muscles work together. (This is immensely helpful!)

At only 107 pages, it’s a brief introduction into the most fundamental aspects of this wonderfully efficient design! You could probably read the entire book over a weekend. But the information you glean from it could positively impact you for the rest of your life. Highly recommended!

The Power of the Pause

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Freedom is the capacity to pause in the face of stimuli from many directions at once and, in this pause, to throw one’s weight (put one’s intentions) toward ‘this’ response rather than ‘that’ one.

-Rollo May, existential psychologist, from his book ‘Freedom and Destiny’

One thing that virtually every musician has to do in order to improve is to change what they are currently doing. This might mean changing your practice regime, changing your understanding of your instrument and pedagogy, changing your perception of sound, changing your quality of attention, etc.

It might also mean that you have to change the postural and movement habits you bring to playing your instrument.

Habits of breathing, standing and/or sitting, how you use your arms and hands, how you balance (or not), how you use your other senses, etc. It’s entirely possible (and even highly likely) that you are sometimes misdirecting your efforts in these areas as you play.

The Alexander Technique is a practical method of helping you to change your postural and movement habits for the better. And one of the most essential tools of the Technique is known as “conscious inhibition” (most students and teachers of the Alexander Technique just refer to it as “inhibition”).

In the simplest sense, inhibition is your ability to consciously prevent yourself from reacting in an habitual, unwanted way. Unwanted tension in your neck. Unwanted rushing of the tempo. Unwanted stiffening in your shoulders, Unwanted gasping as you breathe, etc.

By keeping the unwanted things “in check”, you are free to pursue what you do  want in a way that is more in accordance to your human design. You increase your odds for success.

From a neurobiological point of view, all skilled motor activity requires a balance between “volition” (muscles going into the desired, or helpful action) and inhibition (muscles refraining from undesired, or unhelpful action). Most inhibition in skilled activities takes place naturally and unconsciously (as it should).

But sometimes you need to use inhibition in a more constructively conscious  way in order to improve things.

Unfortunately, there can sometimes be a misconception about using inhibition consciously. To many people, conscious inhibition means “trying” to stop something from happening. It is exactly this “trying” part that can too often create a whole other set of problems when setting out to change movement and postural habits.

“Trying” sometimes means that you are struggling to stop yourself from doing what you habitually do. As if you have little or no control over it. Here’s something F.M. Alexander (the founder of the Alexander Technique) said about it:

When you are asked not to do something, instead of making the decision not to do it, you try to prevent yourself from doing it. But this only means that you decide to do it, and then use muscle tension to prevent yourself from doing it.

But that’s not at all the way inhibition is used in the Alexander Technique. Rather than “trying to stop” something, you learn to simply decide not to do it.

I know, I know…more easily said than done, especially when you have a deeply ingrained habit attached to playing your instrument. But still absolutely doable. That’s the skill you develop by studying and applying the Technique.

The first step in learning to use inhibition in a constructive way, is to embrace the pause.

It is within this brief instant before taking action that you can choose to redirect your attention and clarify your intention and effort. In that moment you come face to face with your habitual reaction, and can give yourself a chance to say “no” to it.

You can decide  not to do what you habitually do. And that’s where the magic lies.

Because if you decide not to react habitually you leave yourself free to find other ways to react. You move from habit  into the realm of choice.

It is the discovery, exploration and embracing of the pause that has given me tremendously powerful tools in managing (which I do quite well!) the focal dystonia in my left hand.

Without using the pause as tool for change, I wouldn’t be able to play saxophone at all any more with any kind of reasonable skill and control. Nowadays, I’m playing better than I ever have, thanks to the power of pausing and redirecting my attention. That simple.

But I gained so much more from the using the pause than improving the functioning of my left hand. Using the pause has helped me to practice everything I practice in a much more constructive, efficient and clearly intentional way.

And as an improvising musician, learning that I can pause, that don’t have to fill every second of my solos with sound, is liberating, and (at the risk of sounding dramatic) has been life changing for me.

I listen at a much deeper level when I play with others than I ever have before. I play with greater empathy, confidence, authenticity, passion, creativity and satisfaction.

All thanks to becoming more and more skilled at pausing.

And to be clear, “pausing” is not the same as “hesitating”. Pausing invites calm, reassured choice, where hesitation invites conflict, misdirected effort and a lack of confidence and clarity.

I use the pause countless times every day that I practice, and I bring it with me to rehearsals and to the bandstand.

When I’m practicing, sometimes I pause between iterations of something challenging that I’m practicing. Just a split second to stop and redirect my efforts makes all the difference.

And even in the middle of a performance, the “imagination” of the pause is always there, reminding me that I have more choice than I might have perviously thought.

So I encourage you to explore the pause. Before jumping right in to “fix” what you didn’t like about what you just played in your practice session (by starting over with the same misdirected effort that led to your dissatisfaction), give yourself a chance to stop, find ease and balance in your body, clarify what it is you want and don’t want, and begin again.

As I’ve said in some of my other blog articles, you’ll never waste time when you give yourself a chance to stop and consciously redirect your efforts. Embrace the quiet power of choosing to pause. Respond rather than react, and reclaim your freedom.