Category Archives: Alexander Technique and Music

Resonance, Time and Ease (A Warm-up Meditation)

Just as my practice goals and strategies evolve over time, so does my conception and implementation of warming up to practice.

Recently, one of the musicians that I coach asked me to elaborate more specifically how I’m currently warming up. So I thought I’d share my thoughts here with you all.

In the past few months, I’ve given myself a specific warmup project: playing one-octave modes from various scales (major, minor and harmonic major) legato, in slow sixteenth and thirty-second notes (half note equals 12 to 15) bpms).

I started out doing this as a way to challenge and improve my sense of what I call my “temporal imagination” (how vividly and accurately I perceive time and pulse). As I continue to work daily on this, the components (or objectives, if you will) of my daily warm-up have become distilled into the integration of these three things:

1. Optimal resonance

2. Perception of time

3. Psychophysical ease

Allow me to elaborate a bit on each of these components.

Optimal resonance

As a saxophonist, this has a very specific meaning to me. It involves finding the “balance” (or “exchange of energy”) between my air stream and my instrument. (Some of you saxophonists might notice that I simply said my “instrument” and not “the mouthpiece and reed”. I find this to be a more accurate description of the acoustic reality of the sound making process.)

In finding that balance, I’m looking for a consistently responsive and flexible breath support, coupled with an awareness/allowance for my voicing mechanisms (soft palate, tongue, jaw, nasal cavity, etc.) to “come alive”, so to speak.

I aim to feel the sound resonating gently inside my head (particularly, my nasal cavity), as I connect that feeling to the sensation of the sound inside my horn. I connect all of this immediately to how I hear my sound out into the room.

So I’m calling into play both internal and external sensory awareness and sensations.

Perception of time

My coordination, my technique, sound, expression…virtually everything I do is conditioned by my sense of time.

As I play each of these modes slowly with the metronome, my aim is to be present with each note.

What that means specifically is that I am connecting my “optimal resonance wish” with my internal perception of time, and how that internal perception of time relates to the reality of the metronome (an external cue for time) and my sound in the room.

When the metronome clicks so slowly, it becomes tempting to try to “play each note in time” by imagining how “evenly” each note should sound.

But as I try to play that way, I virtually always end up rushing just a bit. I tend to try to manage what my fingers are doing as opposed to truly listening and responding. It’s as if I’ve lost the sense of the wholeness of the phrase I’m playing.

So what I do instead is aim for optimum resonance on each as it moves in time to the next , while I hold in my imagination the anticipation of where the next click will fall on the metronome. This helps me integrate my internal consciousness (my intention and imagination) to the external world (hearing my sound; hearing the sound of the metronome).

Whenever I do this, my time instantly becomes lovely and easily precise. I can hear the evenness of not just every note that I play, but also the entire phrase as a whole.

Metaphrically, it’s as if I’m standing on top of a large mountain looking down on the whole valley. This is an immensely pleasurable experience, and it has significantly bolstered my confidence in my sense of time, as well as rhythm and meter.

Psychophysical ease

This is where my experience both teaching and learning (and applying) the Alexander Technique comes in handy. As I aim to integrate optimal resonance with my perception of time, I’m doing so through the foundation of a good “use” of my entire self.

(This is the central organizing principle of all my work as I warm up and practice.)

You might notice that I use the term “psychophysical ease” instead of “physical ease”. I do so because “psychophysical” is a more complete and accurate description of how we as human beings function in activity.

The “ease in my body” is incumbent upon my “ease and clarity in my thinking”. It is impossible to have one without the other.

So what I aim for as I’m connecting my optimal resonance to my perception of time, is finding the ease that is already there inside myself.

I notice my balanced connection to the floor through my feet, the mobility of my joints, the poise of my head on top of my spine (very important!) and the elastic quality of my ribs and torso as I breathe.

If I happen to notice something in my reaction (how I’m using myself) that I don’t want, I simply make a decision to stop doing it, and bring my attention gently back to the ease in my body, and the calm but alert clarity in my thinking, as I stay present with my sound and with the time.

As I mentioned above, my aim in warming up is to integrate these three components into one, singular, omnisensory experience. I’m never sacrificing one component at the expense of another.

The challenge in writing or talking about this , is that it sounds much more complicated, slow-moving and cumbersome than it actually is. In reality, my thoughts are quick, quiet and thorough. Powerefully effective in helping me to react optimally.

After my warm-up (which takes me about 10-15 minutes) I’m ready to work on anything (psychophysically ready!), and the rest of my practice session, virtually without fail, goes along constructively, efficiently and pleasurably.

So how do you warm up? What do you aim for specifically? What do you do to get yourself there? How do you know if/when you are “there”? If you’re not clear on the answer to these questions, I encourage you to investigate and experiment. (And please know that I’m here to help you if you need it.)

Optimizing Practice: Giving Consciousness Priority Over Repetition

Teaching and Learning Music: Being Mindful of Metaphors

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Whenever I give a first Alexander Technique lesson to a musician, it is not uncommon that certain misconceptions about playing music come to light.

It is ofttimes an anatomic and/or physiologic misconception specific to the physical demands of playing the particular instrument.

It can also be a misconception about the acoustical principles involved with the instrument itself.

In both cases, these misconceptions invite lots of misdirected energy, preventing the musician from effectively growing toward his/her optimum potential.

There are many reasons these misconceptions arise and develop (as I have sometimes written about in previous blog posts).

But today I’d like to address this specific one: confusing metaphor with physical reality.

The Merriam-Webster Dictionary’s definition of metaphor is:

A figure of speech in which a word or phrase literally denoting one kind of object or idea is used in place of another to suggest a likeness or analogy between them.

The definition goes on to use the metaphor, “drowning in money”, as an example. (The operative phrase from the definition being “figure of speech”.)

Metaphors can be very effective in both creating visual (concrete) images about abstract things, as well as broadening one’s perception of a particular concept or object.

Sometimes a powerful metaphor can be the exact thing that fuels those “aha!” moments we all cherish (teacher and student, alike).

Yet, in learning and teaching music, metaphors can sometimes be a “double-edged sword” (speaking of metaphors!), creating as many problems as they solve.

When a metaphor helps you convert an abstract idea into a palpable and positive psycho-physical experience, then yes, metaphors are wonderful.

But when a metaphor obscures the actual physical reality of what is happening, then it can have limited usefulness (at best), and can even interfere with your progress (at worst!)

So many metaphors for playing musical instruments…

“Your fingers ‘dancing’ on the keys”…

“Your sound ‘bouncing’ of the walls”…

“Your arms ‘floating’ out of your back…”

Below are a couple of examples of some fairly common metaphor’s I’ve encountered in my teaching/learning experience as a wind instrumentalist that have produce mixed results, at best. The first involves anatomy/physiology, the second involves acoustics. Let’s examine them:

1. “Breathing from your belly.” (or the “belly as lungs” metaphor, as I call it). First off, there is no air to be put in your belly, because your lungs aren’t located there. This metaphor is often given as an encouragement to engage more of the muscles in your abdominal region, as well as to prevent “shallow”, clavicular compression in the upper part of the torso.

So what’s the problem?

When so much emphasis is put upon getting the air “down there”, it invites you to misuse your entire head/neck/back mechanism to do so. This will usually get you to compress and distort your spine, limiting the free, elastic and expansive movements of the thoracic cavity that are necessary to efficient breathing.

Whenever I work with a student on breathing, I demonstrate and explain to them (through images and videos) the actual coordinated movements involved in respiration, as well as giving them some hands-on help to have an experience of this natural and efficient coordination.

Rather than getting them to “breathe into their bellies”, I encourage them to invite the three-dimensional expansion and contraction of their torso that more accurately describes the reality of their physical mechanism. (I encourage you to do the same.)

2. “Your tongue is a valve that starts the sound”. Again, this is not indicative of what is actually happening acoustically. No matter which wind instrument you play, your tongue doesn’t start the sound. Ever. Your focused airstream starts the sound. This “valve” metaphor is often used to call upon a more precise use of the tongue in articulation.

So what’s the problem?

Now to be sure, your tongue can be used to great effect to give precision to how your airstream is being used to start and stop your sound. But it doesn’t do that which only your airstream can do. If you think of your tongue as the “valve” that begins tone production, it can invite you to get too internally focused in producing your sound.

This can lead to lots of embouchure “micromanaging”, which can manifest itself into excessive jaw tension and misdirected “preparation” when attacking a note at the beginning of a phrase. In turn, it can also keep you from fully realizing and relying upon the voicing mechanisms as they need to work in relation to releasing air into your instrument.

Rather than getting my students to think of their tongues as “valves”, I encourage them to think of articulation as part of their sound. And sound production on a wind instrument involves conception (imagination) and the movement of air (amongst other things).

So instead of thinking so specifically about your “tongue-valve” when articulating, try to imagine more vividly and precisely the sound of your desired articulation (your expression!) If it’s clear enough, your brain will efficiently coordinate your physical mechanisms to realize your expression. That’s what you learn through practice.

So I’m not here to tell you to get rid of the metaphors. I use metaphor to positive ends in both my teaching and in my learning. I’m just suggesting to be mindful when using them (in both teaching and learning).

A metaphor (like any other thought) gets us to react in a specific way. If you (or your students) react in a constructive, flexible and exploratory way that invites better coordination, better understanding and better music, then great! By all means use it!

But even then, make sure you’re clear on the reality of what is actually happening. (In short, make sure you know that the metaphor is a metaphor!) Take the time to understand and learn the anatomy/physiology and/or acoustics that pertain specifically to what you do when you play your instrument.

Understanding the distinction between metaphor and physical reality can help you and your students continue to grow, improve and remain curious. All good things.

Physical Efficiency in Playing Music: A Question of Economy

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Many highly skilled and accomplished musicians have lots to say about efficiency in playing their particular instrument.

Whether it is about what the hands/fingers should (or shouldn’t do), or the arms and legs, or how any particular part of the oral mechanism involved in playing functions optimally, there seems to be no shortage of opinions about how to play without “wasting effort”.

And I have my opinions, too, of course, which are based upon my experience teaching the Alexander Technique to musicians, coupled with my growing knowledge and explorations of anatomy and neuroscience.

One of the ideas that can cause considerable problems for some of the musicians who come to me for help, is “economy of movement”.

In playing saxophone, for example (the instrument I play), there are those who advocate this concept: “To move your fingers with the greatest amount of speed, you need to move them as little as possible to raise and lower the keys.”

On the surface, this seems like a good idea. It’s kind of variation on the “shortest distance between two points is a straight line” concept. It obviously takes less time to move a shorter distance than a longer one, all other things being equal.

I describe this concept (in reference to what I’ve written above) as “economy of movement”.

So what are the potential problems with this?

Well, for many musicians, this attempt to limit movement can often begin to manifest itself as stiffness and rigidity.

Not just stiffness and rigidity in the specific parts of the body involved in carrying out the movement, but in the entire organism itself: stiff neck, shoulders, jaw, knees, ribs and more.

And with this comes yet another form of “stiffness and rigidity” as well. Specifically, in the cognitive functioning of the musician.

I describe this as the “deer in the headlights” syndrome. In the focus to “limit” the movement often comes the narrowing of the focus of attention in general. Not a good thing, as this tends excludes and disintegrate (rather than include and integrate) the various experiential elements necessary to play optimally.

So instead of thinking “economy of movement“, I encourage the musicians I work with to begin to think more in terms of “economy of effort“.

Now, to be clear, I’m not necessarily advocating less effort (as that in itself can have the same negative unintended consequences of “less movement”).

More specifically, what I am advocating is the “optimization of effort”. That simply means that the effort applied to the task of playing is directed in a way that is most conducive to the task itself.

It means that the effort you use to play your instrument is best directed when it’s based upon what you want (sound, time, articulation, etc.) in cooperation with design.

Design includes your human structure (and how it optimally functions), the acoustic principles of your instrument, as well as how your brain works to bring it all together to make music.

Playing with optimum effort means not forcefully using your neck muscles to do the work most suitable for your arms, for example. Or to not strain your jaw in doing the work better suited for your soft palate (when playing a wind instrument).

And sometimes you actually have to let something move more than you might think it needs to in order to optimize effort. Try walking sometime as you limit the movement of your ankles, and you’ll immediately realize that less movement isn’t always better movement. (This is analogous to not allowing your “MP”, or, “knuckle” joints to bend the way they need to if you try too hard to limit the movement of you fingers.)

One of the things I love most about the Alexander Technique is that it employs a clear set of principles that teach you how to recognize misdirected effort as you play music, or do anything else.

As you learn to recognize and prevent your habitual pattens of misdirected effort, you simply play better (and feel better, too!)

So consider replacing the idea of “economizing the movement” with “optimizing the effort”. Really explore the contrast between these two concepts. In doing so, you’ll open up a marvelous new world of possibilities for yourself.

Improving Technique: It’s More Than Simply Exercising Muscles

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There is a common, often disconnecting, conception many musicians carry with them when they first seek my help as an Alexander Technique teacher:

In essence, they believe that the very problem that brought them to me is of a purely physical nature. Put more precisely, an issue of muscle function.

I call this a “disconnecting conception” because not only is it untrue, but it also tends to harmfully divide and separate them from themselves as whole beings.

You see, in truth, nothing you do when you play music is “purely physical”. Thought (both conscious and unconscious) impacts all of the physical manifestations of your music making.

Now, to be sure, most of the specific fine motor skills you’ve acquired as a musician can be called upon with minimal thought, or even below consciousness. (Some folks refer to this as “muscle memory”, a not particularly accurate description of the phenomenon.)

But these motor skills can be modulated significantly for better or worse (in the moment!) just by changing your thinking. (You’ve no doubt experienced this countless times.)

F.M. Alexander (the founder of the Alexander Technique) had a more complete term to describe not just musical performance, but all human activity: psychophysical.

In dealing with his own rather serious issue of losing his speaking voice during performances (he was a stage actor), Alexander came to realize that the physical manifestations of his problem (excessive misdirected bodily tension) were inextricably linked to how he thought about using his voice while acting.

It wasn’t simply a “matter of muscle”, so to speak. It was a matter of mind and muscle, the relationship between thought and action. (Hence, the term “psycho-physical”.)

This isn’t such a foreign concept to grasp for most musicians, as “focus” and “intention” both play a significant role in success in both performance and practice.

Yet, I’m still surprised at the amount of rather highly skilled musicians who have a tendency to reduce the acquisition of technical skill to purely physical, muscular exercise.

For example, I’ve encountered brass instrumentalists who routinely practice long tones while watching television to “bulid strength”. Or woodwind players silently practicing fingering exercises (without blowing) as they listen to music to cultivate “muscle memory”.

This practice habit, in my experience both as teacher and as musician, is inefficient, and only marginally helpful (at the very best!)

At worst, it can also be counterproductive, and sometimes even harmful. This is because it is an invitation to develop unconscious patterns of inefficient bodily use and sub-optimal coordination. Often these patterns become gradually ingrained into what the musician thinks it should “feel like” while playing.

As I’ve mentioned in previous blog posts, strength and coordination are inextricably linked, but coordination takes precedent over everything.

Mindless, repetitive actions might build a certain amount of muscular strength specific to the particular technical challenge you’re addressing on your instrument, but strength without coordination is functionally useless.

That’s a simple truth for any activity.

So rather than exercising muscles as you work on improving your technique, think instead of exercising your coordination. And not just the coordination of your fingers (and lips, tongue or any other part of you that is directly involved in playing your instrument), but the coordination of your entire self.

See that you aren’t compressing yourself as you play. (Avoid pulling your head down into your spine, stiffening your shoulders, locking your knees, etc.) Take time to notice this misdirected tension and energy and work toward gradually reducing it. Integrate that awareness consciously into your intentions to improve your technique.

Notice where your attention goes, both when you’re playing well, and when you’re not playing so well. As you notice the shift in your attention, you can also notice how your entire body changes (see above).

Give yourself a chance to stop and redirect your efforts. Make sure you’re clear about what you want (your sound, execution, etc.) and just as important, how you are “using yourself” to get what you want.

And, of course, make it musical. Give whatever you practice some sort of musical intention and imagination, each moment you practice it.

If you work each day to observe and more effectively integrate your thinking into your playing, you’ll find that not only do you improve more steadily, but that you don’t even need as much time as before making mindless repetitions in order to build “muscle memory”.

A few moments of mindful work will always take you further toward your goals than an hour of mindless “exercise.” It always works this way for me and my students, and mostly likely will work this way for you. Give it a go!