Category Archives: Practicing Saxophone

A Potentially Bad (Yet Highly Popular) Bit Of Advice About Your Fingers

“It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.”

-Mark Twain

The words above are especially true when it comes to musical pedagogy. There are lots of myths out there (often in the form of simple advice) that are based on a misunderstanding between cause and effect. These myths often prevail because they seem, on the surface, quite logical.

And that’s where the problems begin.

The one I’m talking about here specifically is this: To play a woodwind instrument (though I’ve read/heard the same thing about string instruments and piano, as well) with optimum speed and efficiency, you must train your fingers to stay close to the keys.

On the surface this seems logical. For you to play passages rapidly and with control, there needs to be an efficiency of movement. Ideally your fingers need not move any more than necessary to open and close keys.

And more often than not, if you witness a musician playing with great speed and control, this is what you’ll notice in the fingers. Like a well-trained athlete…economy of motion.

Lately I’ve seen several videos online where very good saxophonists are advocating this idea, even giving specific instruction on how to train the fingers in this manner. As much as I respect these musicians, I don’t at all agree with their advice in this area.

Here are four reasons why not:

First, there is a misunderstanding of what actually leads to the efficiency of your fingers. When you see somebody playing with the fingers flapping up and down like crazy while playing, what you are witnessing is excessive muscular tension. The fingers are going too high, for example, because the player is tensing them (over-extending) to bring them there. As they come back down to the keys they often do so with a thud (again, too much tension as the fingers flex).

You see, efficiency of the fingers (staying close to the keys) is a result of the balance between tension and release. The fingers flex lightly to come toward the keys, and release to come off of the keys. As they release they don’t move very far. Sometimes they even keep in light contact with the keys. So get rid of the excess tension, and the fingers do no more nor less than what they need to do.

Second, by trying to hold the fingers close to the keys and limit their movement, you’re mostly replacing one type of unnecessary tension with another. (Please note that the operative word here is “hold”, as in “hold the fingers and not let them be free to respond and move“.)

Third, this over emphasis on one part (the fingers) divides and disintegrates your attention as you play. It also takes away from your ability to sense how each part is related to the whole. For example, if you see a saxophonist playing with stiff and high flying fingers, you can also notice that there is a chain of habitual muscular tension on display: stiff fingers connected to stiff arms, connected to stiff and narrowed shoulders, connected to a stiff neck. This whole pattern really needs to change in order to support economy of motion in the fingers.

Fourth (and perhaps most important), this kind of practice (trying to hold the fingers closely to the keys) can lead to other troubles for some musicians. As an Alexander Technique teacher, I’ve had students come to me with three specific types of problems that have been exacerbated by their obsession with over-managing their fingers as they play: Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, Elbow Tendonitis and Focal Dystonia. Part of what I help these musicians with is to strike a balance in their attention as they practice in order to expand and include more of themselves (and their external environments) into their music making habits.

I have no doubt that the saxophonists I refer to above sincerely believe that they have been helped by their approach and their specific remedies (everything from holding pencils between the fingers while playing, to attaching the fingers to the keys with rubber bands).

To them I would say this: you play very well despite doing that. And to be honest, as I watch them play, I don’t see a huge amount of unnecessary tension in the rest of their bodies (thought I certainly see areas that could improve!)

But I don’t know what they were doing with themselves before they started to practice this way, so it’s impossible for me to know the improvements (and potential harmful habits) that have been gained.

I do know this, however: Your fingers move most efficiently when you leave them alone to do so. If you have clear intentions about the music, a good sense of time and a nice balance of tension and release in your body as you play, your fingers will do the right thing easily, without self-concious effort.

So if you notice your fingers moving “too much” as you play, stop and observe. Are you raising them through release or tension? If you notice that you’re tensing your fingers, trace that to what your arms, shoulders, head and neck are doing. If you’re finding lots of tension in these areas, it just might be the right time to find a good Alexander Technique teacher 😉 You’d be amazed at how much more efficient and effortless the entire music making process can be.

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.

Your Sound: Hearing What Is There Instead Of Listening For What Is Not

Practicing Music: Balancing Subtraction And Addition

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To improve and grow as a musician, you have to practice with very specific aims in mind. When you’re practicing effectively, you’re doing either one or two things:

You’re unlearning habits that interfere with your ability to play better.
You’re learning new ideas, skills, information, repertoire, patterns, etc., to expand what you are able to do.

So in essence, you’re subtracting (unlearning) or adding (learning). Learning to balance your efforts so you’re working on both is key to your progress.

As an Alexander Technique teacher, I always give subtraction top priority. All the musicians that come to me for help do so because they have movement and postural habits that are creating problems for them as they play their instrument. They need to learn how to subtract these habits, so they can play with greater ease, efficiency and precision.

As a saxophonist, I spend a good percentage of my practice time specifically devoted to keeping my habits in check.

Today, for example, I spent a period of time consciously preventing myself from tightening my neck and jaw as I played scales into the altissimo register. When I’m able to stop myself from indulging in this excess tension, my sound is so much more clear, round and warm (not always an easy thing for saxophone altissimo).

In Alexander Technique jargon, we call this kind of conscious prevention inhibition. It is this inhibition, this conscious subtraction of habit, that has helped me improve more than anything else.

In fact, I would say that most issues involving instrumental pedagogy are best addressed with subtraction. Stop doing the thing that’s causing the problem, and you’re “half way home”, as F.M. Alexander would say.

Of course, if all you do is work on subtracting habits, you’ll deprive yourself the opportunity to expand in other areas. To grow as an artist, you also need to add things (see number 2 above). You need a nice mix of both.

As a teacher, I’ve encountered musicians who are out of balance with their practice routine in this regard.

I’ve worked with jazz guitarists who were so concerned with adding repertoire, learning licks, transcribing solos, etc., that they were completely out of touch with how sloppy their technique and time had become through all the excess, unconscious tension they created in themselves as they play.

When I get them to become aware of their habits, and get them to address them (subtraction) through practice, they are pleased with how nicely all their newfound knowledge and skills integrate into beautiful, expressive music.

But I’ve also seen the reverse of this imbalance. For example, I’ve worked with brass players who spend so much time on “habit control” (especially with embouchure), that they get kind of stuck in their progress. Stuck, not only because they’re doing nothing to increase their ears, repertoire, etc., but also, because they’ve become so obsessed with controlling their habits that they’ve grown stiff (physically, emotionally and mentally) in their playing.

With these students, it’s been a matter of teaching them how to better approach their subtraction process so they’re not trying for absolute perfection. And then getting them to gradually step into the unknown by learning some new musical material.

So aim for striking a balance between these two aspects of your practice. Strive to be clear about cause and effect. If you keep adding to what you do, but find yourself sounding worse (time, tone, intonation, articulation, control), remember that unless you get those habits of misdirected tension under control, you’ll just amplify bad results. You may have more notes you can play, but with far less beauty.

I recommend doing these five things:

Write down, in great detail, the short term and long term goals you aim to achieve through practice.
Make a list of the things you’ll have to do in your practice to reach your goals.
Determine which of these things you’ll practice are subtractive or additive by definition, and mark then on your list accordingly using a plus mark for addition (+), and a minus mark (-) for subtraction.
Keep a practice log everyday, again putting plus or minus marks next to each thing you practice.
Reassess regularly to see how you might need to change the balance of pluses and minuses to continue on toward your goals.

And just to emphasize again, always begin each practice session with subtraction. Ask yourself, “What do I need to stop doing to play better?” Start with this everyday, then enjoy all the new things you’ll study and learn.

The Number One Reason Why You Should Transcribe

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In the study of jazz (as well as many other improvisational music disciplines) transcription of improvised solos is standard practice. Jazz is often described as being a “language”, and one of the best ways to learn this language is through listening and transcribing.

There are various skills you develop from transcribing solos.

Many teachers of improvisation have their students transcribe solos to learn this so-called jazz language, as well as to give them a chance to build a vocabulary of useful “licks” that can be practiced in all 12 keys and applied to chord changes, tunes, etc.

Transcribing is also a great way to improve technique, as you most likely will be confronted with sequences of notes that just don’t fit easily into what you’re used to playing. And of course it’s a great lesson in jazz harmony as you analyze what the soloist has played.

But I think the most valuable skill you gain when you transcribe a solo (and the number one reason why you should consider doing it) is that you learn how to listen in a deep way.

Deep listening. You see, when you transcribe an improvised solo, you’re listening to more than just the pitches being played. You’re listening to tone color, attack, dynamics, articulation, tempo/rhythmic play and more, as it unfolds in the real time environment of the recording.

But you’re not just addressing the musical elements separately, as I’ve listed above. You’re also going deep into the mind of the artist. It’s almost as if you’re attempting to embody his/her experience in creating the solo. You’re learning to hear and reproduce sounds that musical notation could never fully or accurately express. You’re learning to actually understand and speak the language.

Each note has meaning. Each inflection has weight. Every element the improviser has chosen is related to every other element. And all this is happening as a whole experience of communication and response between the soloist and the rest of the ensemble. And you’re right in the middle of that experience.

Of course you vastly improve your ear for discerning pitch and rhythm. The more you transcribe, the easier it becomes. This is true largely because you are able to hear, understand and retain more in your working memory. And that translates into huge gains in your own playing. You go from a more self-concious, intellectual approach to improvising, to one in which you trust your muse and follow your ears.

When you transcribe, you’re developing the ability to listen at a high level of consciousness, learning to pay great attention to detail, and cultivating your musical imagination.

This is why many teachers of jazz improvisation recommend that you study only solos that you’ve transcribed, and not from the written notation of somebody else’s transcription.

The great jazz pianist and teacher, Lennie Tristano, would have his students (Warne Marsh, Lee Konitz, et. al.) devote themselves to listening to a solo for a long period of time (often several weeks) before he’d have them transcribe it. He’d insist that they be able to sing it absolutely accurately: pitches, rhythms, scoops and bends, articulations, dynamics…the entire feeling of the solo. His main objective: to get his students to listen deeply.

I think it’s fine to play other people’s transcriptions, by the way, but with different objectives in mind. For me personally, they’re a great way to improve sight reading and technique, as well as sometimes a chance for me to get immediately more familiar with an artist that I might not have much experience with. Plus, it’s just plain fun.

But if I want to go deep, I have to do the transcribing myself. And I encourage you to do so, too. The benefits are just too huge to ignore.

If you’ve never transcribed a solo before, here are some things to do/keep in mind to help you out:

Choose a solo that you really love-As obvious as this sounds, you might be surprised at the amount of novice transcribers who are slogging away in their first transcription attempt at a solo that they think they should transcribe (perhaps for its historical or musical significance), as opposed to what they really want to transcribe. If you’re compelled by the material, that motivation will take you far, and you’ll enjoy the process much more. But….(see below)

Keep it simple-Choose something that is easily singable, not too rhythmically complex. Find something lyrical and spacious. Lots of flowing eight notes punctuated with quarter notes and rests.

Listen, listen, listen-For a long time. If you can sing the solo accurately (the way Mr. Tristano had his students do), you’ll be amazed at how fast and easily you can find the notes on your instrument. Also, I recommend your first few transcriptions be limited to the artists who play your instrument. So if you play alto saxophone, for example, transcribing Paul Desmond would be highly user friendly, a good place to start (as long as you like Paul Desmond).

A little bit at a time is fine-If you’re intimidated by the length of a solo you really like, remember that you don’t have to transcribe it all. See if you can get the first phrase. Then the next. Work your way up to transcribing a chorus. If you feel it, continue on. Make it a long term project and enjoy the sense of accomplishment as you make it to the end. If you don’t make it to the end, that’s fine too. You still will have learned a good deal, and will have improved your skills. No regrets.

Slow it down-If it’s just going by too fast for you to take in, consider some of the software and smartphone apps that are designed specifically for transcription (to slow the tempo of a recording without altering pitch). One well-know software application is Transcribe!, by Seventh String. And of course there are lots of smartphone apps available now that do the trick.

Don’t write anything down-Not at first anyhow, as it can be a sometimes frustrating distraction. It’s important that the solo goes deep inside of you. That you know every note and every inflection, and that you can play it back to your satisfaction by memory. Once you can do that, feel free to write it out. It’s a great skill to develop as well (particularly for helping you read and understand rhythms).

Above all, enjoy yourself. By learning to listen deeply and reproduce sounds and rhythms in such a specific way, you’ll broaden your musical expression, become clearer as to who you are as an artist, and teach yourself to trust your ears. Best wishes!