Category Archives: Practicing Music

Practicing Music: Why Uncertainty Isn’t Necessarily A Bad Thing

Prescience– The fact of knowing something before it takes place.

-Oxford English Dictionary

As a species, we human beings crave predictability in perhaps the most elegantly complex ways. And indeed, some of our most remarkable achievements reflect the ability to predict and manage our futures.

This is a mostly a good thing, of course.

But if you’re pursuing artistic skill and development, this need for predictability can be a double-edged sword.

On the one hand, being able to control the medium that you work with is essential for your artistic expression (and satisfaction!) And knowing you can control this medium is a form of predictability that is often the aim of your long hours of practice.

On the other hand, I think it’s important to keep in mind that as long as you continue to grow as a performing artist (and as a human being, for that matter), you must step into the unknown.

You have to let go of predictability.

This is something you do whether you are willing to or not, or whether you are conscious of it or not. It’s a fundamental truth about how things work in the world.

It’s impossible to always know.

You must constantly edify your ideas of what is “right”, and what works or doesn’t.

If you reflect upon it long enough, you’ll realize that what was “right” at some point in your musical development (whether technical, mechanical, or aesthetic) isn’t “right” anymore.

It is this continuous edification that you gain from study, practice, reflection, performance (and sometimes even frustration/dissatisfaction) that is part and parcel to your path to greater realization of your expressive potential.

Nobody likes feeling uncertain as they pursue work. We all like to feel that we are unfailingly on the right path, never wasting an ounce of effort in our pursuit. The picture of efficiency.

This of course is simply not true.

Your progress as a musician is most definitely not a straight in the conventional sense. Rather, it’s a line that moves up and down, up and down…But as you stand back and take a look at the entire pattern over time, it has an upward tendency.

That’s how growth works.

So I think it’s important to realize in this process of growth that you might not always feel certain about what to do. This might be with respect to pedagogy, mechanical/equipment issues, aesthetic principles or even specific skills.

I’m more than okay with that, and I encourage you to be, as well.

As long as you can keep your curiosity and passion lively, trust that you can dwell in uncertainty until you eventually move closer toward your goals. It’s largely a matter of observing your efforts and thoughts in simple, methodical and discerning way:

“Am I clear (or could I be clearer) about what I want?”

“Am I actually getting what I want?”

“If I’m not, then what’s keeping me from getting what I want?”

“What am I actually doing with myself as I pursue what I want?”

(These last two question are emphatically explored in the Alexander Technique)

So I invite you to embrace uncertainty when it arises in your musical development. Sit with it for awhile. Let it marinate. Let yourself not know. Let yourself even be wrong, for that matter.

Above all, know that the uncertainty is not an obstacle, by ultimately, might be just what you needed. Trust that the mistakes you make when you are uncertain might not be mistakes at all, but stepping stones into a beautiful new world.

I’ll leave you with one of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite musicians, Thelonious Monk, overheard when he was trying to help one of the musicians in his band who himself was stuck in his progress:

You’re making the wrong mistakes. “

When you allow yourself to step into the unknown, you also allow yourself to make the “right mistakes”. The ones that will lead you to what you want.

Turning Adversity Into Opportunity

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One of the things I’ve learned in my daily saxophone practice is to welcome the adversity of unwanted results to my practice efforts.

Whereas before this would lead to frustration (and even despair), now it brings me to a place of quiet curiosity, discernment and experimentation.

To be clear, I very much enjoy the days where everything seems to be going just right. Not only does it gives me the satisfactory sense of being in a state of “flow” with my efforts, but it also affirms that I’m on the right track with my practice strategies and intentions.

But when it’s “one of those days” where even the simplest things start to unravel, I immediately transition into my “why?” mode:

“Why is this always an easy thing for me, but today it is not?”

The answer to this question is always available, as long as I continue to explore and ask further questions.

Whenever things are not going as well as they normally do, it will always come down to one thing: the quality of my attention moment to moment as I practice.

Sometimes this quality of attention issue is more “global” in nature. For example, maybe I’m severely lacking in sleep, or perhaps distracted by some emotional trauma I’ve experienced earlier in the day.

In either of these cases, I practice self-kindness, and determine whether there is a way I can regroup and redirect my efforts in a constructive way to continue; or if I can’t, to simply stop the session and use the remainder of my allotted practice time to give myself more of what I really need (like a nap, or some quiet, compassion-based meditation).

But more often than not, my quality of attention issues are immediately changeable. So if something seems unusually difficult for me that day, I simply observe my thinking, and ask myself questions:

“Where/how am I placing my attention?”

“Am I hyper-aware of what I’m doing, (never a good thing), or am I simply not integrating my awareness as intentionally as I normally do?”

“How is my attention impacting my ‘use’? (the quality of what I’m doing in my body and with my senses)

“Am I focusing too much on the expected result, at the expense of not paying enough attention the quality of my process as I pursue the result?”

“Am I using awareness to discern what I’m actually doing with myself as I practice this particular thing, or am I self-consciously judging the quality of my efforts before I can arrive at that discernment?”

And so on. (One of the most valuable skills gained from studying the Alexander Technique is in learning to constructively apply these “attentional” skills.)

I just keep asking questions, going from the general to the more specific (for example, “How am I perceiving pulse/rhythm today?”), until the answer reveals itself to me. I always find the answer, as long as I stay curious and keep asking.

There are two big benefits from bringing this attitude and commitment into my daily practice:

One, in learning that I can find improvement in even the most difficult of days, I develop a continuing, empowering sense of self-efficacy.

Two, my daily practice sessions tend to be more consistent and productive than ever before.

It’s a win/win situation.

I think it was basketball legend Michael Jordan who said something like:

I never lose. Either I win, or I learn something.

And so it can be in your daily practice sessions. So enjoy the good days, those days where you feel unstoppable in your musical skills and powers. Let them affirm, inspire and energize you.

But I encourage you to also welcome the “bad” days. Because if you are willing to examine and readjust the direction and quality of your attention as you practice, there really are no “bad” days.

A Fun (And Challenging!) Way To Improve Your Time And Expand Your Rhythmic Imagination

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Pulse, rhythm, meter and feel. These are the essential components of time that musicians utilize to create music.

I’ve been nearly obsessed with exploring and better understanding how our perception of time impacts our music (including going deep into the science of how our brains perceive time). Even our most basic movement skills are coordinated through our sense of time.

Without time, there is no coordinated movement. None. And without coordinated movement, there is no music.

In every practice session I’m working on things that challenge and expand my sense of time. Again: pulse, rhythm, meter and feel. (I’ve even composed two eBooks with exercises in polymeter and multiple time subdivisions that document some of my explorations.)

One of the “staples” of my work with time is using multiple, simultaneous pulses; i.e., working with more than one tempo at a time (no pun intended). I usually do this either with metronomes and/or with drum grooves (I really like the Smartphone app Drum Genius for this!)

I’ve been working this way for several years now, and I continue to reap wonderful benefits from my efforts. If you haven’t practiced with multiple time sources, I highly recommend that you do so. Here’s why:

The three most palpable skills that you will cultivate from practicing with multiple tempos are:

1 Improved “precision” in your perception of pulse (steadier, more reliable sense of time)

2 Improved flexibility and adaptability in changing tempos (finding the “groove” more immediately and solidly; not getting “stuck” in certain tempo ranges)

3 The ability to actively and accurately “imagine” tempos nested within tempos (this is especially useful for improvising musicians!)

As you work this way you will also find that your technique becomes cleaner and more precise as well (though without losing the musical flexibility that is so important to expressive and dynamic playing).

Here’s a simple way to get started:

Begin by using two metronomes that have slightly different sounding clicks (this makes it easier for you to perceive of and integrate the two pulses).

Set one metronome at half notes, around 60 bpm. Set the second metronome at 2/3 the tempo of the first. So in this case, half notes at 40 bpm.

Find a simple scale or melodic pattern to practice, composed of quarters and/or eighth notes (again something simple). Start at the faster tempo and play the pattern a few times to embody the tempo as you “notice” the click of the slower metronome.

At a certain point, jump over to the slower metronome and play the same pattern at the slower tempo. Aim for embodying the new tempo as soon as possible. Once you feel that you’ve locked in the new tempo, switch back to the original tempo, and so on, moving back and forth between tempos.

Whichever tempo you are in, see that you are “hearing” (but not necessarily “listening to” the other metronome clicks).

The aim here at first is not so much being able to conceive of both tempos simultaneously, but rather that you can easily and readily switch between tempos.

Once you’re comfortable with all these activities, add another challenge. Perhaps it is to play a particular piece (etude, solo transcription, etc.) as you move back and forth between tempos. Or you can also add more rythmic complexity the original scale pattern you started with, using triplets, quintuplets, syncopation, etc.

If you’re an improviser, the next challenge could be improvising with the two metronomes. First, just improvise over a mode, scale, or simple riff, something devoid of a specific time/harmonic form. Once you feel solid doing that, improvise over a short, familiar harmonic form (maybe the blues?) And so on, again, adjusting the time/harmonic form to fit the new tempo.

When you get to the point where you’re able to function well in these two tempos, decrease the differences in time between the two metronomes. Maybe set one at half note at 60 and the other at half note at 45. You can continue to lessen the tempo differences until you get both metronomes at nearly similar tempos (say 60 bpm at one and 55 bpm at the other).

At whatever two tempos you’re working with, take some time to sit and listen (without playing) to how the two tempos eventually converge and make a singular, simultaneous click. Try to conceive of and anticipate this occurrence. Find the pattern.

And of course, you can also play around with different drum loops, perhaps exploring not only multiple times, but multiple feels and metered subdivision. For example I like working with the metronome clicking on half notes, while I add a drum groove in 4/4 that is subdivided into four, 3/4 patterns (12 beats over three measures).

If you’re truly brave and adventurous, you can add a third (or more?) time source.

If you continue to work this way, you will learn (as I have) to actually “hear and imagine” more than one tempo and subdivision simultaneously. As I’ve stated above this will not only make you a “stronger” musician (better reader, time keeper, etc.), but will open up amazing roads as an improviser, allowing you to create an abundance of rhythmic tension and release.

So give it a try. Have fun with it! Explore, learn. And grow as you do so!

New E-book: Encyclopedia of Triad Pairs

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I’m pleased to announce that my latest e-book, Encyclopedia of Triad Pairs: A Playable Reference for the Improvising Musician, is now available for purchase and immediate download.

Triad pairs (i.e., the combination of two triads that share no common tones) are a staple of the modern jazz language. Exploring and practicing with triad pairs can reveal seemingly endless melodic possibilities when improvising. And if you’re not an improvising musician, practicing regularly with triad pairs will challenge and improve your technical skills.

In this e-book, I’ve used major, minor, diminished and augmented triads to present a comprehensive entry point into exploring triad pairs that can be formed from diatonic, polytonic and symmetrical tonalities. I demonstrate how to apply these triad pairs over dominant chords resolving to tonic. In doing so I also show how each pair can be organized as a stand alone “mode”, as well as how to insert chromatic passing tones in order to add even more melodic possibilities and interesting tensions.

Whether you’re new to working with triad pairs or not, this book serves as both an entry point for the novice, as well as a comprehensive reference for the more experienced improviser. With over 120 pages of notated musical exercises, you will have lots to work on!

So take a look at the landing page on my blog, which has a pdf sample of one of the notated exercises, as well as a pdf copy of the written introduction of the book, which further explains the concept, the format, the benefits and the practice guidelines for implementing the work.

And as always, let me know what you think! Thanks!

Clarifying A Common Misconception About “Tension” In Playing Music

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On the first day of the semester in each of my classes at the performing arts college where I teach the Alexander Technique, I often ask this “trick” question:

“Is it possible to perform (music, acting, dance, etc.) free of tension?”

Typically, the majority of the class answers with a resounding “yes” (as they’ve come to believe that’s what they want, that’s why they’re taking my class).

But the answer to this question is simple: No.

It is impossible to move, maintain balance, breathe, or otherwise function on even the most basic level without some sort of muscular tension. This is not a matter of “opinion”. It’s a matter of fact. It’s part of our human design.

Even when you’re feeling completely “relaxed” there is a certain, necessary amount of postural tone in your body to help you counter gravity (even when you’re lying down.)

So why do so many of these students, themselves aspiring performing artists, answer “yes” to this question?

It’s simple. They think that “tension” is their enemy.

They think that all the problems they have with their movement, posture, breathing, voice, etc., would simply vanish if they could somehow eliminate “all the tension” in their bodies.

But it’s not as simple as that.

It’s not a matter of being “free of tension”, but rather, of recognizing and preventing what I call misdirected effort. It is this “misdirected effort” that is too often perceived and labeled generically as “tension”.

It is this misdirected effort that makes playing music (or engaging in any kind of performance activity) seem “difficult”, “tense”, “stiff”, “stuck”, “rigid”, “unnatural”, “labored”, “self conscious”, “unsure”, “unsatisfactory”, etc.

Okay, so what’s the problem trying to avoid any kind of “tension” when playing your instrument?

The most fundamental problem is that doing so can make you reluctant to sense and accept even the well-directed muscular effort that is necessary to play your instrument.

So as a musician, what might “misdirected effort” be for you?

I’d say it’s anything that you do habitually as you play your instrument that is not only unnecessary to the act of playing that instrument, but also interferes with your natural coordination and your skill.

It is working against the reality of your human design, rather than working in harmony with it.

Let’s look at this example of a fairly common habitual pattern of misdirected effort you might have if you were a pianist:

Whenever you move up or down the keyboard playing a rapid and/or powerful passage, you narrow and raise your shoulders while pulling your head down into your spine.

Now, you might still be able to play just fine doing that, but not because of what you do. That pattern of “effort” (raising/narrowing your shoulders, etc.) doesn’t help you to carry out your wish to play the passage.

In fact, all this misdirected effort in your head/neck/shoulders has a tendency to be an obstacle to the freedom necessary in your arms and hands to play the passage skillfully and expressively.

So in this case, you’re able to play the passage despite doing that (your habitual pattern of misdirected effort), not because of it.

But no matter which instrument you choose, the more you recognize and prevent patterns of misdirected effort, the easier it gets to play that instrument. (Not to mention safer, more consistent and more satisfying!)

So you can observe yourself with this simple question: “What am I doing that is not necessary to the act of playing my instrument in this moment?”

This question (simple as it is) is something that should never be answered definitively. and completely Rather, it is a way for you to explore and discover continual improvement and growth as a musician.

After all, something that seems “necessary” today might not seem so necessary after some days of exploration. Calling what you do into question as you practice is not that same as “doubting” yourself or your technique. It’s just a tool to open up possibilities.

Another good question to ask as you explore and call into question something that might seem like an habitual pattern of misdirected effort is: “What’s it like when I don’t do that?”

And as you ask that question, you might come up with other questions, like:

“Can I still get the sound that I want when I don’t do that?” (if not, why not?)

“How does not doing that affect my sense of time?”

“What changes favorably in my body as I don’t do that?” (or unfavorably?)

“Do I feel ‘undernergized’, perhaps ‘unable’ to play when I don’t do that?”

“Do I rely upon feeling this misdirected effort to ‘believe’ that I’m playing my instrument ‘correctly’?”

And so on…

Some of the more basic things to examine as you explore are:

Your head/neck/jaw relationship. (Is it rigid or free?)

Your shoulders/arms. (same as above)

Your knees (free to move, or “locked”?

Your breathing (noisy and “forced”, or dynamic but “easy and available”?)

Your eyes/gaze (fixed or mobile/dynamic?)

Your balance/connection to the ground (light and expansive, or heavy/compressive?)

(And again, as I mentioned above, anything you notice in your observations can be addressed with that first question: “What am I doing that’s not necessary…?”)

So in the end, “tension” is neither your enemy, nor your friend. It is simply something that takes place between your thoughts and your body. As F.M. Alexander (the founder of the Alexander Technique) stated:

“You translate everything, whether physical, mental or spiritual, into muscular tension.”

Tension is necessary for you to live, and for you to play music. Misdirected effort is not.