Category Archives: Practicing Improvisation

Rhythm, Coordination And Technique

One of the most common misconceptions about gaining technical fluency on a musical instrument is that it is mostly about being able to move quickly. Fast fingers, fast hands, fast tongue, etc. (depending on which instrument you play).

And for sure, when you see a musician displaying stunning technique, you are going to see various body parts moving rapidly.

But technical skill is more than just speed. It’s control. It’s the coordination between intention and execution. And that’s where time and rhythm come into the picture.

When I teach the Alexander Technique to musicians I’m always reminded of this. Without fail, every technical limitation (whether in the moment, or chronic) that my students demonstrate can be traced to a lack of rhythmic clarity. This lack of clarity manifests itself as an uncoordinated technical effort: unsteady tempo (rushed or dragged notes within a single phrase), missed notes, uneven color, uneven attack, etc.

But here’s where it gets interesting, because often the poor rhythmic clarity is being exacerbated by poor overall coordination. This is mostly a manifestation of habitual, excess muscular tension: stiff necks, shoulders, arms, hands and rib cages; locked knees, noisy breathing and more.

And (as anyone who has ever taken lessons would tell you) this is what the Alexander Technique is especially helpful for. You learn how to recognize and prevent these unhelpful habits.

As I get farther along teaching the Technique (and applying it to myself as a saxophonist) I develop a deeper understanding of this inseparable relationship between rhythm and coordination:

As my sense of time improves so does my technical skill. As I improve my overall coordination, my sense of time and rhythm improve. One hand washes the other.

Alexander Technique teacher and cellist, Pedro de Alcantara, in his excellent, highly practical book, Integrated Practice, speaks at great length about the connection between bodily coordination and rhythm. One of his talking points is that musicians need to aspire to not only play rhythmically, but also, to live rhythmically (i.e., in a well-coordinated way). I couldn’t agree more.

This morning I was giving a lesson to a fine professional guitarist here in Los Angeles. He’s been studying with me for nearly two years, and has considerable skill applying the Alexander principles to playing his instrument.

He was working on a very fast bluegrass style piece in his lesson with me, and was having difficulties on one particular passage. As we took time to workshop the tricky part, I asked him, “What are you noticing here in this part compared to how you’re playing in the rest of the piece?”

As he took time to investigate, he answered, “Well, I notice two things: First, I’m tensing my left shoulder a bit in anticipation of the ‘hard part’. Second, my conception of the time and rhythm is not as clear as it is in the rest of the piece. It’s almost like I loose my imagination of the pulse and the groove that I had going into this part.”

So, he simply reminds himself not to tense his shoulder (and to let his neck be free), then slows down the tempo a little on the piece to clarify and reintegrate his rhythmic conception with his new coordination. He practices it a few times with this new thinking.

When he is confident that he is keeping his tension in check, and that he has a uniform rhythmic clarity throughout the entire piece, he brings it back up to tempo. And…problem solved.

You see, it’s not that my student needed to move his fingers and hands faster to play this fast passage; it’s that he needed use his hands in such a way as to have them serve his rhythmic imagination. In essence, he was lacking evenness in playing the passage. He was lacking coordination.

I teach my students to work with themselves the same way I do as I work on technical challenges. Always aiming to bring my bodily coordination into sync with my rhythmic imagination, and vice versa. I’m pleased with the results.

So here’s a few things to work with and/or keep in mind to help you with this:

Check your tension-Where are you holding? What are you doing that you don’t need to be doing as you play? Check your neck, jaw, and shoulders. Are you stiffening in anticipation. How are you doing in your legs? Are you knees free or locked? Give yourself a moment to consciously let go of some of that unnecessary tension.

Clarify your rhythmic imagination-Make sure you’re “pre hearing” the passage you’re going to play as vividly as you can. Slow it down if you need to. (If you’re improvising, it’s not quite as simple as this, but that’s the subject of another blog article). Sing the passage. Using spoken words (for example, “hippopotamus” can be used as a verbal representation of a quintuplet; “wonderful” is a good one for triplets, etc.) is great for helping you strengthen and clarify your conception. (In Indian classical music rhythms are learned and memorized vocally, by using specific syllables.) Make up a list of words that you can use to help yourself.

Be clear on the pitches-Is the sequence of notes clear both in your ear and your mind. Take some time to know it well. Again, don’t hesitate to slow the tempo to do so. (Singing the sequence is very helpful here.)

Listen to what you’re actually playing-Try not to get caught up into what you think it should feel like to play. Notice where you lose the continuity of your rhythmic conception. Is it in certain range of your instrument? Is it when rhythms shift (e.g., going from triplets to sixteenth notes)?

Connect your imagination to the outside-Use a metronome. Listen to the metronome very carefully, especially as it relates to your internal sense of time. This is also a part of listening (see above).

Investigate-When you find yourself getting stuck on a particular technical passage (whatever the tempo), take time to make sure that you haven’t lost your rhythmic conception. (This is a good time to use your words.) Also, see that you’re not tensing up again. Keep refreshing the thought (the wish) to remain free and easy. Trust in this process to address your problem.

So if you want to increase your dexterity, velocity and technical control, work on cultivating the connection between what you imagine (rhythm, pitch, time, expression) with what you’re doing in your body. Best wishes!

Jazz Improvisation: To Metronome, Or Not To Metronome?

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There are a variety of opinions out there on the value (and the pitfalls) of using a metronome when you practice jazz improvisation. The great pianist, Paul Bley, for example, thought using the metronome was a bad idea, something that limited the natural ebb and flow of real, human time feel. Whereas the great saxophonist and improviser Warne Marsh used it regularly in practice. (Both were absolute masters of time and rhythm.)

I’d like to offer some of my ideas and experiences in using the metronome for practicing improvisation. Specifically, why, when and how I use it.

Let me start by saying what the metronome is not. It is not your time feel. Your time feel is part of your internal creative process. Your imagination, if you will.

One of the objections that Paul Bley, Mike Longo and many other musicians (all of whom I deeply respect) have voiced about using the metronome is that it can create a false, rather stiff time feel.

And I would agree that if you’re using the metronome as a time feel source, you’re robbing yourself of the opportunity to develop your internally generated time feel, which is crucial to your free self expression.

One of the more controversial topics with respect to the metronome is how to use it when playing a swing feel in 4/4 time. There are many who recommend setting the metronome at the half note to click on beats 2 and 4 (the “backbeat”). The primary reasoning behind this is that it emulates and strengthens the swing feel.

Then there are those who adamantly oppose setting the metronome on beats 2 and 4 when playing a swing feel. They would say that the great jazz players are not thinking in this “back beat” kind of way, but rather, are thinking more about the time in a different, sometimes broader way.

Some are thinking of beats 1 and 3, so as to always know where the time/form really is. Others like the idea of thinking just about the downbeat of “one” in each measure.

And yet others think even more broadly than that (thinking/feeling multiple bars at a time). This, they claim, gives them more freedom with the time and the feel, as well as better control of their ideas. (Im my experience, I completely agree.)

I don’t like the idea of trying to “cultivate” the swing feeling from the metronome (I doubt that you can, actually). I think the best way to do that is by listening to the music. A lot. Your swing feel (or any other stylistic feel) is developed internally (again, it’s part of your imagination) largely through listening. Listening to (and possibly emulating) the great masters of jazz will do so much more than a metronome could ever do to teach you to swing.

So what is the metronome? It’s an external time source, one that is (although adjustable) completely unresponsive and unyielding. It simply expresses tempo, measured in “beats per measure”. Nothing more.

Contrast the experience of playing with a metronome to that of playing with other musicians. You still have to listen for (and respond to) an outside time source (the other musicians). But the difference is that it is being created from moment to moment (and you’re part of it). Everybody you’re playing with is putting their “tempo/feel imagination” out there into the collective sonic whole.

If you’re playing with good musicians, there is a sense of give and take between you (the improviser) and the rhythm section (in both tempo and feel).

And even if you’re playing with bad musicians, you still have to deal with how your perception of tempo and feel lines up with theirs.

Either way, you’re in a constant state of balancing the internal (your impulse/imagination) with the external (the collective tempo and feel of the ensemble).

To do this well you must be able to listen and respond effortlessly. That’s where the metronome comes in handy as a practicing tool. The metronome is constantly challenging you to deal with what you generate in your imagination with the reality of its clicks. It doesn’t much matter that the time is rigid. It’s just time. It’s not your swing feel.

Of course, If you don’t like to use a metronome, you can instead use backing tracks (which are very affordable, practical and decent sounding these days).

I do use backing tracks from time to time, but I find myself doing the bulk of my improvisational practice with just the metronome. Why? Because the metronome also challenges me to use my tonal and harmonic imagination that much more.

For example, if I’m improvising over a standard song form, I must imagine and feel the form of the tune, the harmonic colors and contrasts, voice leading, the melody and more. By using the just the external stimulus of the metronome’s click (no chordal instruments, no bass), I’m having to bring these other thing to life internally. By doing so my imagination becomes richer and freer.

I tend to use the backing tracks after I’ve spent lots of time on a particular tune with only the metronome. I’m always pleased with how clearly and vividly I can imagine and hear what I’m playing in relationship to the the rest of the “band”. This establishes a kind of confidence that encourages me to play with much more risk and adventure when I play with other musicians.

I use the metronome in a variety of ways, often changing where the click is in relation to the time and form. Here are some of my favorite settings for improvising over standards and other chord based forms:

On the first beat of each measure-I probably use this the most. I’ll do this in 4/4 and in odd times as well. It’s a great way to feel time in a broader sense. This is especially helpful at fast tempos (it makes them feel much slower, calmer and clearer).
On the first and third beat of each measure-I do this most particularly on tunes or chord changes with which I’m not very familiar. It helps to really solidify the time/harmonic form.
On the second, third or fourth beat-I’ll intentionally displace the click in order to challenge my sense of the harmonic form. (I do this after I’m very familiar with a tune or set of changes.)
On the upbeats-I think of the click as being not the downbeat, but the upbeat (usually I think of it as the up beat of 1 or the upbeat of 3). This strengthens and clarifies my sense of the downbeat. (Again, this is something I do when I’m very familiar with the form).
On the second and fourth beat-Yes, I enjoy the playing with the “hi hat”, too. It’s fun. Plus, practicing way this at very fast tempos insures that I won’t “turn the time around” when playing with a rhythm section (no matter how fast the tempo may be).
Playing intentionally in front of or behind the click on any of the above mentioned metronome settings-This isn’t easy to do, but it sure frees up my time feel and rhythmic imagination, as well a clarifying my internal time sense.
Without the metronome-And of course, it’s great to play without an external time source. I’ll either play in time (my own perception of time), or rubato. Both are essential to developing my skills as an improviser.

The most fundamental information I want with respect to using the metronome is to always know where the downbeat of beat one is. If I know and can anticipate that clearly, both my time and my feel are solid.

Also, as a rule, the fewer clicks the better. For example, if you can easily improvise over a tune at half note equals 80 (whether clicking beats 2 and 4 or 1 and 3), change the setting to whole note equals 40. And so on. Doing so helps broaden and strengthen your time perception. (I virtually never set the metronome to click on each beat, no matter how slow the tempo is.)

So how much do you (or should you) use your metronome when you’re practicing improvisation? If you find that you struggle to improvise with good, clear time when playing with other musicians, you probably need to spend more time with the metronome.

On the other hand, if you regularly use a metronome (or other time source, like a backing track) when you practice improvisation, see how you do without it. If you find it difficult to play with the same freedom of expression and confidence, then you might consider spending less time with it.

Whichever the case may be, keep in mind what the metronome is, and how you can best use it.

Warming Up: Integrating The Internal With The External

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Playing music is largely an internal process. Tonal conception, rhythmic conception, pitch and expression are all things that begin inside your imagination as you play (if you’re improvising, perhaps even more internal impulses and decisions are at work).

Yet ultimately these internal stimuli manifest themselves in the external environment in order to make the music that you and the rest of the world can hear. From conception to physical expression. From internal to external.

And of course, you’re getting feedback from this external world, which constantly informs ands conditions your internal world as you play. You hear your sound, pitch, tempo, dynamics…as well as any of the other musicians with whom you’re playing. All this information is going back to you to affect your internal world.

In my experience teaching the Alexander Technique to musicians, I often find either an imbalance, or a disconnect between the internal and external. This is the source of many difficulties for these musicians.

Everything from excess strain, to chronic injury, to focal dystonia, can be caused by (or exacerbated by) this disintegration. (The condition of focal dystonia in particular can usually be traced to an over-emphasis of the internal.)

I see the greatest amount of evidence of this problem with my students as I observe (and ask questions) about what they do to warm up. I’ve found that it is this “warm up” habit that sort of sets the stage for many of their other problems.

These musicians see the warm up as an almost exclusively “physical” activity:

“I’m getting the muscles loose and the blood flowing.”

“I’m waking up my fingers.”

“I’m opening up my breathing.”

“I’m setting my up embouchure .” And so on. (You’ll notice that these things are mostly internally experienced.)

Now, to be clear, certainly part of the warmup is about something physical (blood flow, muscles, etc.) A good warm up can help you avoid injury, and can also help create the conditions for you to play with greater efficiency and less strain.

But the warm up is not just a physical activity. As F.M. Alexander (the founder of the Alexander Technique) might say, warming up is a psycho-physical activity. It involves the whole self: thought and movement integrated together.

The students I encounter that are struggling with their playing tend to focus too much attention on one aspect of the internal. This mostly involves trying very hard to re-capture the feeling (or the memory of that feeling) of what it is like to play well. Their energy is going inward almost exclusively. Often they’re not hearing themselves nearly as well as they could.

And of course, because they’re not hearing themselves as well as they could, the troubles begin. Pitch, tone color, projection, time, breath control…Coordination in general begins to suffer. They can sense and even hear that things aren’t quite right, yet they continue to go inward to try to feel the right thing. (This creates a downward spiral of frustration for many musicians.) The more disconnected they become from the external, the more deeply internal they go.

This over-focus on one aspect of the internal also cuts them off from other crucial information in their internal environment. Specifically, the attempt to recapture the feeling of playing well tends to create lots of excess physical tension, especially in the neck, jaw, shoulders, ribcage and legs (not to mention hands and fingers!)

Often this excessive tension is below the consciousness of these musicians. It simply becomes part of the “memory” (distorted as it my be) of playing well. Yet this tension is making it even that much more impossible to play well (to play at an optimum level).

So what to do? First, change your perception of what you’re trying to accomplish in your warmup.

In my own practice as a saxophonist, I’ve radically re-designed my warmup. I’ve shifted my aim from merely “warming up the muscles” to “integrating the internal with the external.”

Here’s what I do:

I start my practice session by lying down for a few minutes in constructive rest. This gives me a chance to quiet myself and bring a gentle awareness of what’s going on inside my body as I stay connected to my external world.

Next, I pick up my instrument, and sort of freely improvise for a moment or two as I begin to wake up my senses. I notice the resistance of the reed and mouthpiece, the movement of my breath and fingers (my internal world).

As I’m doing this, I’m also hearing my sound by actively listening to the walls resonate in my practice room (my external world). That is, I’m not trying to feel what my sound is (or even hear it come out the bell of the instrument), but to actually hear it.

From there, I begin to do some slow work with the metronome (playing very simple melodic patterns that I know very well). I do this because it brings my attention to an external time source, and is a way to integrate my internal perception of time with the external reality of the metronome.

As I’m paying attention to the clicks of the metronome, I’m beginning to expand my attention. I start to notice and direct the release of my neck and shoulders. I sense the easy, elastic expansion of my torso as I breathe. I become aware of the vibrations in my face as I play, and more.

All of this as I am actively listening to my sound in the room and the clicks on the metronome. (Sometimes I’ll rhythmically displace the melodic pattern with the metronome clicks so that I must listen even more actively.)

After a few moments, I begin to increase the tempo of the metronome, all the while paying attention to the other things I’ve mentioned above. It is so easy to do this, and within minutes I’m fully ready to play anything. Psycho-physcially ready. My muscles are warm, my mind is calm and alert, and I’ve now easily integrated the internal with the external to create one thing: my consciousness in playing music.

In essence, cultivating this skill (of integrating and balancing the internal and external) has been the very thing that has saved my career as a saxophonist. My playing continues to improve and grow.

So how is your warmup? Are you expanding or narrowing your attention? If you practice expanding your attention, you’ll effortlessly play with a nice balance between the internal and external. And that’s where you’ll find the great music that’s already inside of you.

The Technique That Has Helped Me The Most

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I’ve been playing, composing and teaching music for nearly 40 years. In that time I’ve come across many different approaches to improving what I do. Nothing has come close to helping me as effectively and as completely as the Alexander Technique.

I came to study the Technique after struggling with some serious coordination problems that were threatening my career as a saxophonist. I was so impressed with how I’d been able to help myself with the work, that I decided to commit to the three-year training program necessary to become qualified to teach (completing my training in 2006). It was easily the best decision I’ve ever made in my musical life.

Everything I do in my musical practice is informed by the Alexander Technique. I would even say that I approach composition and improvisation with the Alexander principles very close at hand. And of course, the Technique is at the heart of what I teach when I’m teaching musicians.

So what is the Alexander Technique?

In the simplest (and most practical) sense, the Alexander Technique is a way to learn to recognize and prevent unnecessary (and potentially harmful) muscular tension in any activity. (This alone is quite helpful for musicians!)

But I would also say that it is a a way to more effectively connect thought with action. Clear intention combined with efficiently directed muscular energy leads to a highly satisfying musical experience in both practice and performance. This clarity between thought and action also makes me a more effective, and more authentic composer and improviser.

The Alexander Technique is the technique I apply to all other musical techniques, whether I’m working on tone, articulation, velocity, reading, or improvisation. Anything, really. My brother-in-law, Celio (who’s also an Alexander Technique teacher), calls it the “pre-technique” to any activity. I couldn’t agree more.

Here are eight ways the Alexander Technique helps me the most in my work:

1. It provides a lens through which to evaluate good coordination. In Alexander slang, we talk about the primary control, which is the working relationship of the head, neck and back. This head/neck/back relationship conditions the quality of everything we do in our movements: breathing; using the mouth, lips, tongue and jaw (as well as the other vocal mechanisms); using the arms, hands and fingers; sitting standing and walking; the eyes…as I said, everything.

The primary control is the lens through which I discern and evaluate all my (and my students) movement habits as they pertain to playing music. By learning to stop interfering with the natural coordination of this primary control, I (and my students) play with greater ease, efficiency and control.

2. It places the emphasis on the quality of the process. Rather than aiming only for specific results (with no consideration to how best to attain them), the Technique helps me grow my faith in working by principle, using reason and discernment, always aiming for a good use of primary control (see above). This not only helps me play better, but also, keeps me from harming myself as I play. As long as I take care of the quality of the “how” in what I do , the end takes care of itself.

3. It helps me to improve by doing less. This is perhaps the most important principle I’ve learned. I’m playing better than ever not because of what I’m doing, but rather, because of what I’m not doing (my old habits of excess tension) as I play. Addition by subtraction, as the cliche goes. I see far too many musicians making their playing more difficult by adding yet more things to “do” in a forced and unnatural way (breathing and embouchure are prime examples). No need for this added effort.

4. It teaches me when (and how!) to stop. To me, this is the most essential skill for a musician to have during a practice session. Learning to strategically stop and redirect my thinking has helped me improve more than anything. By doing so I prevent myself from reinforcing the habits that are interfering with my playing, and give myself the means and opportunity to truly change.

5. It provides tools for self-care. Constructive rest, breath work, taking care of how I use myself (in all my activities) have helped me significantly to practice music without pain or worry of injury.

6. It helps me maintain a better balance between the internal and the external. I’ve greatly improved my ability to stay connected to internal things as I play, like sensing time, imagining pitch and tone color, following my creative impulses, and what’s going on with my body; with external things like hearing my sound, hearing the other musicians, and my visual and spatial senses. This balance of attention (rather than the imbalance of over-focusing on certain things at the expense of ignoring others) has deeply enriched my musical experience. (It has also improved my pitch, sound, time and creativity.)

7. It helps me observe and improve my thinking. If I’m facing a particular challenge as I play, I immediately go to my thinking. When I ask myself, “Where are your thoughts going as you play this?”, I usually find that my thoughts are not supporting what I’m trying to do as I play. So I simply redirect my thinking. Improvement always follows. As an improvising musician, this has been especially helpful.

8. It clarifies my understanding of cause and effect. There is plethora of useless, even harmful, pedagogical information out there for instrumentalists and singers (much of it disseminated by highly respected musicians with limited knowledge of anatomy and physiology). By understanding how I work best in nature (again, see primary control, above), I can easily filter out the bad information, and stay with what truly works. I get a clearer idea of how “A” influences (or doesn’t influence!) “B”, so I can more accurately answer the question: Am I playing well because of what I do, or despite what I do?

Besides these eight, there are even more ways the Alexander Technique has helped me. I just wanted to list a few of the ones I personally consider most essential. By staying with the Alexander principles, I continue to develop a set of tools that I can use with confidence and consistency.

I’ve also enjoyed the privilege of teaching the Technique to a variety of musicians, from jazz artists, to Indian classical musicians, to musical theater performers, to principle players in symphony orchestras and more, with measurable benefits. It is remarkable work. I encourage you to find a good teacher and give it a try.

Improvising Music: Four Essential Components

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After reflecting upon a lesson I gave last week to a beginning jazz student, I came to realize a simple truth about what it takes to improvise. I’d like to share my thoughts with you.

No matter what genre of music you improvise in, there are four essential components you rely upon to create music spontaneously. This applies whether you’re a novice or an accomplished artist (or somewhere in between). These four things are:

Impetus
Imagination
Control
Risk

Allow me to elaborate.

Impetus

You must have something that moves you along, that gives life to your creative impulse.

Time, rhythm, and feel are primary, and are more basic and fundamental than pitch itself. There can be music without pitch, but not without rhythm. In jazz pedagogy, there is often too much of an emphasis for the beginning improviser on which notes to play, with little emphasis on the thing that actually gives life to these notes.

Many of these beginners feel deep frustration when they know a particular group of pitches quite well (like the blues scale, for example) but can’t seem to make any music with it.

This is a rhythmic issue. They need to develop and learn to rely upon their pulse/rhythm/ feel impetus.

Master improvisers are not really thinking a lot about which notes to play and how to connect them when they’re in the middle of a solo. They’re mostly following their rhythmic instincts (which are, of course, integrated effectively into their harmonic/melodic knowledge and skills).

If you’re a novice improviser, spend lots and lots of time developing this first. I’ve written an article that will help you along with this.

Imagination

You have to be able to conceive melodic ideas (pitch, rhythm, inflection, articulation, dynamics…coming together seamlessly).

In essence, there has to be meaning to what you play (it has to mean something to you!) For this to happen, you need to work towards cultivating a vast musical imagination.

If you’re a beginning student of jazz, for example, you must listen, listen, listen to great jazz recordings! But don’t just listen passively. Make it a point to listen to a favorite improvised solo to the point that you can sing it clearly, accurately and easily. Then sing or hum this solo, making slight variations. This is just one thing you can do to develop your imagination.

You can also practice singing along with jazz recordings (or backing tracks) discovering and cultivating your imagination. Again, make the rhythmic impetus primary.

Control

You have to be able to carry out what you imagine and feel (impetus).

This is where so much of the hard work comes in. You must not only be able to have knowledge of chords, scales, articulations and forms, but also, you must have the skills on your instrument to play them…in real time, with little trouble or thought.

Some of the novice improvisers I teach simply need to spend more time mastering the basics of their instrument (technique, sound production, etc.) You also need to work towards hearing what you can play (scales, chords, melodic patterns, etc.), and understanding how it relates to harmony, melody, form, etc. This is also a component in developing your imagination (see above).

Risk

You must be willing to step into the unknown.

Without this willingness, you’ll never allow yourself the joy of spontaneous musical creation. Improvisation, by definition, involves risk. It involves being in the moment, faced with no exact script, and trusting your muse.

But let this be a fun thing, a human thing. After all, when you’re speaking, you’re improvising, constantly changing and following your thoughts. You do it naturally (through lots and lots of practice). Improvising music isn’t so different.

Great improvisers are not only unafraid of risk, but also, welcome it. They ride upon the unknown like a huge, beautiful wave.

In the study of jazz improvisation there can often be an imbalance of these 4 components. Perhaps too much of an emphasis on technical skills at the expense of developing imagination. Perhaps rarely exploring and pushing the limits of risk taking. Perhaps gaining great technical control over a very narrow rhythmic and melodic imagination.

Whatever the case, it’s always possible to reflect upon your progress, redirect your efforts, change your plan, and improve your playing.