A Simple Way To Expand Your Improvisational Vocabulary (As You Improve Your Technique!)

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The most typical frustration that an aspiring student of improvisation expresses to me in our initial consultation is that they feel stuck. They feel rather stagnant, uninspired by their own predictable (to them, anyhow!) playing.

And as I listen to them play and ask questions, I notice without fail that not enough of their practice study and effort is put into studying rhythm and meter.

Lots of work done on melodic sequences, harmonic substitution, licks, etc., but not much consciousness about how to most easily vary the patterns they already know all too well.

There are many ways to begin to vary what you do rhythmically and metricallyin order to increase your improvisational vocabulary. I’d like to offer here one very simple, very easy thing you can do with the patterns (scales, arpeggios, licks) that can open up your ears and thinking in a fundamental way.

Here it is: Rythmically displace every pattern that you practice.

Simple as that.

If it’s an eighth-note based pattern that starts on the downbeat of beat one, start it on the upbeat (the “and”) of beat one. (You can also start it on the upbeat of the fourth beat, as well.)

If it’s a sixteenth-note based pattern that starts on the downbeat of beat one, start it after a sixteenth rest (the “e”) of beat one. (Or on the “a” of the preceding fourth beat.)

Take a look at the bebop cliché I put at the top of this page, and play through it, if you have your instrument handy.

Now take a look at the pattern below. It’s the same pattern as above delayed by an eighth rest:

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If you play through this pattern (especially if you use a swing feel) you’ll hear that the pattern sounds fundamentally different. Because of the contour of line, and where the harmonic tensions are placed, the overall quality and color of the pattern is transformed.

This is such an easy thing to do whenever you practice patterns, and should be done with every pattern you practice. If you make this a habit of your daily practice routine, you’ll benefit in several ways:

First, you’ll breathe new life into all the patterns that you already know and use to create your improvisations.

Second, you’ll change your habits of phrasing, opening up yourself to new ways to feel the bar-form and express yourself within this form.

Third, you’ll improve your time.

Fourth, you’ll increase your rhythmic and metric imagination. (Displacing patterns that fit neatly into the “4/4 box” gets you to immediately feel and imagine other meters imposed upon 4/4.

Fifth, you’ll improve your ears, as you learn to hear tensions in “unusual” places (sometime going over the measure from dominant to tonic).

These things will most certainly help you grow and improve as an improviser.

But there is another, very important benefit of practicing things this way. By regularly displacing the beat in the melodic patterns you practice, you invite your brain to find new ways to organize the motor activity necessary to play the pattern.

This is a HUGE benefit for you, whether you improvise or not. It is the “novelty” of the rhythmic displacement that calls upon your brain to virtually “recreate” the pattern. Doing this regularly helps you to better retain any new material that you learn.

It helps you develop a kind “neuro-flexibility” that you’ll take into the practice room as well into performance. (From a neuroscientific point of view, we are wired more for “flexibility” than we are “consistency”, where motor skill is concerned.)

One of the things I most admire (and there are many things to admire!) about saxophonist and jazz pedagogy teacher, Matt Otto, are his free video lessons. With practically every pattern he presents for you to study, he demonstrates the pattern played with an eighth-note displacement. (He encourages you to do so, too!)

So make this simple variation available and habitual to your practice sessions. You’ll be surprised at how quickly you begin to change how you hear yourself and express yourself as you improvise.

If you’re interested in studying rhythmic displacement in a more comprehensive, methodical way, please consider my e-book, Essential Polymeter Studies in 4/4 Time for the Improvising Musician. Thanks!

This Change In Attitude Can Help You Play With Much Less Strain

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The main thing I look for whenever I’m giving an Alexander Technique lesson to a musician for the first time is preparation.

I want to see what my student does those brief seconds before she or he starts to play.

Playing music involves movement, and movement requires preparation, whether it is done consciously or unconsciously. In short, this preparation could be described as habit.

But before I observe my student play for the first time, I spend lots of time asking questions. I want to get an idea not only of the challenges that have led this student to seek my help, but also, the thinking involved in playing music. It is this thinking that is often the foundation of the habits.

These musicians will have a large array of preparation habits, and I’ve never yet encountered two musicians who share identical habits.

Having said that, I can say that all of the musicians who come my way for help have one habit in common: They begin preparing to play by tensing themselves up.

In other words, the movement organized to play that first note involves lots of muscular contraction. A good deal of this muscular contraction is not only unnecessary to sustain the act of playing the instrument, but it is also unnecessary to begin the act of playing.

Much of this muscular organization can be attributed to attitude and belief. If you believe you need to tense yourself up to play, then you certainly will, for better or for worse.

But here’s the thing about virtually all human movement: It can begin with release instead of tension.

That’s right, the movement can start by letting something go, but un-latching something in yourself.

For example, if you’re standing and you wish to begin to walk, you can tense your neck and shoulders as you pull yourself down into your pelvis onto one side of your body to de-weight the leg necessary to start the first step, then pull your leg up into your pelvis in order to bend your knee. (This is a fairly apt description of what many people do as they begin to walk.)

On the other hand, you can move from standing into a walk by having these three things coming into play:

1. The intention to walk.

2. A light, upward organization in your body from your feet to the crown of your head (which involves letting your spine lengthen by releasing up and away from the ground).

3. A release in your ankles to allow your upwardly directed weight to fall forward to begin the walk as you release your knee to bend a leg.

(Try this sometime, and notice the difference. You’ll most likely feel lighter, taller and freer as you walk.)

Now to be clear, this isn’t a matter of relaxing every muscle in your body before you move. Even if you were able to do so (you actually can’t), you would fall into a heap on the ground.

No, what I’m talking about is a very simple principle: By starting the movement from muscular release, the rest of your body is free to make the muscular contractions necessary to carry out the movement in a more efficient way.

You can take this model into other common activities. For example, to speak or sing, you can start by the movement by releasing your jaw to let your mouth open.

Even picking something up off of the floor, you can begin the movement by releasing the joints necessary to let you bend down to take hold of the object on the floor. And then as you take the weight of the object you, rise by letting your weight release forward and up over your feet as you also let your shoulders release and widen to accept the load. (Now the tension necessary to carry the load is in play.)

And so it can be with playing your instrument. All you need to do is observer and redirect. Here are few things to pay attention to:

You can start by noticing all the gestures you make as you go from a state of “not playing” to “playing” as you hold your instrument.

Notice in particular what you do with your head, neck and shoulders that brief moment before you begin to play. Do you brace yourself by tightening your neck and pulling your head downwards onto your spine? Do you begin to pull your shoulders down into your ribs? Or pull them up toward your ears?

Do you begin to lock your knees? Stiffen your ankles? Grab the floor with your feet? (instead of letting your feet release into the floor)

What do you do with your eyes? Does your gaze become intense and focused? Does your brow furl up?

Does your jaw begin to tense? How about your tongue? Your facial mask?

And how about your breathing? If you’re singing or playing a wind instrument, are you making noisy, gasping inhalations as you suck in the air by overly tensing your neck and back muscles? (And if you’re not playing a wind instrument, are you beginning each phrase by sucking in air?)

If you find yourself starting to play with any (or all) of these gestures of tension, start by changing your attitude. See where you can substitute muscular contraction with muscular release.

For example, rather than tensing your neck and tightening your chest and shoulders to noisily suck in air before blowing that first note, think instead that the breath can come in as a quick and light reflexive movement made possible as a result of letting go of the muscles in your neck, shoulders, ribs and back. You might be surprised at how easily and how quickly and fully your inhalation becomes when this actually happens.

So pay attention to yourself as you play. Find ways to initiate those first movements of playing your instrument with as much release as possible. Then let the muscles in your body respond naturally and effectively to the task at hand.

By changing your attitude about movement in this way, you’ll gradually begin to redifine how little effort is actually needed to play your instrument. In doing so you can expect a lifetime of growth, improvement and increased satisfaction.

10 Recurring Principles Of Effective Practice (And Performance)

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Photo by Quentin Ecrepont on Pexels.com

This past year I’ve had the privilege and honor to serve as practice coach and Alexander Technique teacher to some especially outstanding musicians, from elite orchestral members, to studio session pros, to outstanding jazz artists.

I’m always so thankful for what I learn from my clients, and use what I learn not only to help other musicians, but to also better help myself as a musician.

As I reflect upon the year, both as teacher and as student, I become aware of certain recurring principles that seem be most essential in the process of improving as a musician. These are the concepts that arose most frequently for both my clients and for me (sort of a “Top 10”, as it were), and are topics I’ve written about in greater detail on this blog.

I’d like to share them with you in the form of some gentle advice.

Here they are:

1. Be clear about what you want.

How do you want to play? Strive for a detailed conception of the kind of musician you aspire to be. Understand that this conception will most likely change along the way, but being clear about what you want will help you work most specifically and effectively.

2. Be clear about how things work.

Understand at least the basic science behind how your instrument works (acoustics), and your human design (anatomy and physiology). You can avoid lots of misdirected effort by being clear on these things. Take responsibility to learn and understand the physical principles involved in playing, and pick and choose the pedagogy that best suits these principles.

3. Use yourself well.

This is the foundation of the Alexander Technique. How you “use yourself” includes your movement, posture (including how you hold your instrument) and your quality of attention (basically, how you “react” as you play your instrument). By using your entire self in a balanced, more conscious way (i.e., in cooperation with your human design) you create the best conditions for successful musical results (not to mention you also avoid strain and injury).

4. Let your ear lead.

Aim for an expressive rather than a mechanical quality in your attention as you play. This is a matter of letting your aural imagination (your ear!) be the initiator of musical activity (e.g., your desire/conception for your best, most expressive sound; not your desire/conception for the “correct embouchure”). When your aural conception is clear, your brain is free to organize the movement to manifest your musical expression in a naturally efficient way.

5. Balance the internal and external.

More specifically, don’t become too internally focused as you practice and/or play (micro-managing tongue, fingers, embouchure, etc.) Be available to notice what you’re doing with your entire self (an internal awareness), and integrate that with hearing and feeling your sound and expression outside of yourself (in your instrument, in the room, in conjunction with the other musicians, etc.) Many coordination problems musicians develop (including focal dystonia) are partly a result of a too narrowly focused internal attention.

6. Understand (and strengthen) the relationship between your perception of time and your coordination.

All problems musicians have with coordination and technique are some form of problem with perceiving time. As you improve your time, you improve your coordination and technique. The clearer and more precise your time perception becomes, the cleaner and faster your technique becomes. So rather than wishing for “fast fingers”, wish instead for clear, solid time. (Even things like pitch and attack are conditioned by your perception of time.)

7. Bring things within reach.

I too often see musicians reaching too far beyond what they are capable of doing in that particular practice session. Besides being a less than optimum learning experience, this also leads to frustration and self-doubt, as well as poor movement and postural habits (i.e., “misuse”). Aim at regressing (simplifying) a too-difficult exercise so that is only slightly out of your reach. Then work gently and mindfully to bring it back within your reach. Repeat this process many times as you’re practicing something and you’ll be pleasently surprised at your progress. “Lots of little bites finish the entire meal with the greatest satisfaction”, my mother used to say to us kids.

8. Get good at stopping.

There is no point in rushing on to the next attempt to correct what you just did until you are clear about what needs to change, or more specifically, what you need to do differently to make that change. Get good at stopping and redirecting attention and effort. The better I get at practicing music, the better I get at stopping. It is never a waste of time.

9. Find satisfaction.

Sure, you want to get better. You want to be able to do more than you can do right now. But it’s important that you reaffirm what you already can do. You need to do this everyday (no matter how “poorly” your practice session has gone). Always try to end your practice session with something that makes you feel satisfied with what you can already do as a musician. This will keep you inspired, motivated, and in love (which leads me to the next principle!)

10. Play from a place of love.

I leave the most important principle for last. I still witness far too many musicians that are making music predominantly from a place of fear. This often creates problems for them, some of these problems quite serious. Playing music with a motivational energy of love not only is more satisfying, but it also helps your brain organize the movements necessary to play in the most optimum manner. Love brings with it curiosity, faithfulness and persistence, and with these come continued improvement.

So I hope you consider some of these principles, as I also wish you a wonderful, growth-filled, musically challenging and satisfying life!

Improvisation: Using Silence As A Part Of Your Expression

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It is often said about the great jazz trumpet player, Miles Davis, that a large part of his improvisational genius manifested itself not only in what he played, but also in what he didn’t play.

His use of silence became an integral color of all his improvisations. It was largely responsible for keeping us, the listeners, on the edge of our seats, never knowing what to expect next.

The same could be said about many other iconic jazz improvisers: Lester Young, Charlie Rouse, and Chet Baker, to name but a few.

Yet as much as students of improvisation admire this concept, very few seriously consider it and actively pursue it through reflection and methodical study.

And that’s too bad. Because you can use silence quite effectively to create compelling improvisations, as well as to really put a stamp upon your own personal style of expression.

Keep in mind that whenever you take an improvised solo, that solo is defined by the sum total of what you play, and what you don’t play, whether you’re conscious of that, or not.

So it’s probably a good idea to become conscious of how you use silence as you improvise.

Silence is a color in music with limitless possibilities.

You’ve probably had at least one experience of being bored (or overwhelmed!) by the relentless barrage of notes that some (less mature) improvisers put upon your ears.

No contrast, no flexibility, no breathing room, no surprises. Not exactly the elements of an expressive, refined improvised solo.

On the other hand, you might remember being absolutely swept away by the drama and suspense of the sparse simplicity used by a master improviser (such as Miles, for example).

It is fairly simple to begin to shift your thinking about silence in relation to sound. Just start with this idea:

You are not obligated to fill every moment, every measure, every beat, with sound.

In fact, what if you were to approach your solos with a different kind of obligation?

What if you’re only obligation as a soloist was to be mindful of silence (your silence, that is), and the sounds you make with respect to that silence? What if whatever was being played (or not played) by the ensemble without you was already beautiful? What if whatever you played, you chose to play in order to enhance that beauty?

How would that change the way you play? How you construct your solo? How you interact with the other musicians? How you use your sound? How you perceive yourself? How you hear the whole, instead of the parts?

If you approached each solo with this kind of respect for silence in mind, it would most likely get you to do at least two things differently:

1. Listen more carefully (to the rest of the ensemble, as well as to yourself).

2. Play more intentionally (following your inner ear, your muse, all in response to the other musicians).

Think about that. Those are two excellent, highly desirable traits for both a soloist and an accompanist.

You can methodically practice and explore using silence and space in your solos. Here are a few simple things to get you started:

Listen to the masters-Start by opening up your consciousness to how effectively silence is used in constructing a solo. Find somebody with this quality whose playing you really admire. Listen and analyze.

Assess-Listen to recordings of yourself improvising. Try to hear yourself in a variety of contexts (different styles, ensembles, etc.) Assess your own use of sound and silence. Notice any habitual patterns. Notice any phrases that you play that sound unintentional or superfluous. Notice where you start and stop to begin and end a phrase (again, noticing habitual, predictable patterns).

Listen without playing-Choose a song form to improvise over (a standard, blues, etc.) Use a backing track or just put the metronome on. Have your instrument in hand, ready to play. Let an entire chorus go by as you listen (whether to the backing track, or to the metronome, as you internally “hear” the song form), holding your instrument, but not playing. See if you can do this and still imagine and improvised solo in your mind. What do you “hear”?

Limit phrases per chorus-Take this same song form and allow yourself to play only one phrase per chorus. It can be anywhere in the form, and as long or short as you like. improvise over several choruses this way. When you’re satisfied with what you’re doing, move on to playing several choruses with only two phrases. And so on, until you sense that you are “hearing the silence” as well as choosing your lines with more intention.

Use small rhythmic cells-Now take this song form and use small, simple rhythmic cells. Maybe start with two eight notes. Again, it doesn’t matter where you place them in the bar (or form), but you’re limited to just these two eighth notes that have to be followed by at least one beat of silence (preferably more).

Assign silent “rhythms”-Now use specifically assinged silences at various, random places over the same song form. Start with even numbers (half rests, whole rests), then move on to odd numbers (one and half beats; three beats, or more) to add a polymetric element in your solo.

Reassess-Record yourself improvising over the song form with no agenda in mind, and then listen. What did you notice? Did anything change? What did you like? What would you like to change?

So embrace silence as a new, almost exotic color and possibility for you to explore. Silence makes the notes you play sound more intentional, more meaningful, more powerful, more expressive.

I’ll leave you with something the great alto saxophonist Lee Konitz said about taking a solo on the blues, in which he didn’t play a single note on one entire chorus:

It was the best chorus I’ve ever played…

An Important Component of Effective Practice That Is Too Often Overlooked

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Whenever I meet with a musician for the first time to give a practice coaching session, I ask lots of questions about musical goals, as well as the procedures to attain those goals.

In essence, these questions fall under the category of two broader questions:

“What would you like to have?” and “What are you doing to achieve that?”

From here we have a good starting point to look at things objectively and constructively. Both of these questions require clear and detailed answers in order to optimize progress and minimize frustration.

Often, the “What would you like to have?” part is fairly solid. (If it’s not, we need to start there.)

But too often, the “What are you doing to achieve that?” part is lacking. This is where the frustration flourishes.

Many things fan the flames of this frustration, but one of the most overlooked is very simple: Too much of what is being practiced is devoid of pleasure.

Pleasure is a component of practice that is sorely overlooked.

A good number of musicians come to me for help who simply dread most of what they do as they practice. This makes it nearly impossible to get any kind of expansive, inspired growth.

The sad part is that many of these musicians think, to a certain degree, that if it’s pleasurable, it’s not really practice.

That’s just not true. Most of the great, virtuosic musicians love (or loved) to practice. For them it is not simply a means to an end. To a certain degree, practice is an end unto itself. It’s a form of meditation.

I look forward each day to my practice sessions. They are nourishing, satisfying, centering, calming, enlivening, challenging, fun, illuminating, somatically pleasurable…all at once.

And I continue to improve as a musician as I practice.

There are two main reasons way practice should be mostly pleasurable:

First, the obvious: If something brings you pleasure, you’re more likely to spend time doing it. It becomes less a matter of discipline, and more a matter seeking gratification.

Second (and this is less obvious), you simply learn better when you enjoy what you’re studying and practicing.

This is one of the reasons why skilled teachers use play (games, role-play, etc.) to enhance the learning experience for learners of all ages. (I often use play to great effect in teaching the Alexander Technique to college and conservatory students.)

Pleasure and learning work together well, as pleasure is a powerful motivator. Pleasure lights up and integrates different parts of your brain. It enlivens your senses. It makes you receptive to experience, to possibilities. It makes you curious. It makes you fearless.

Do these sound like good qualities to have while playing music?

Without a doubt they are.

Don’t misunderstand. You still have to work. Focused, intentional, productive work that you need to hold yourself accountable for. You must reflect and assess, and reassess and redirect, being constantly vigilant.

But you’ll do so much better if you learn how to do so pleasurably.

One of the things I encourage the musicians I coach to take responsibility for is altering how and what they practice in order to make it pleasurable for them.

Their job is to turn problem solving and skill acquisition into a primarily pleasurable activity.

It’s a matter of transforming the activity. This calls for creativity and inspiration.

So let’s say holding sustained tones to improve your sound (long tones) is drudgery to you, try playing beautiful songs at very slow tempos. Play as if you’re really “singing” these melodies (like you really mean it!), with your finest, most personal sound.

By doing so, you engage your expressive consciousness while at the same time developing the motor skills necessary to cultivate and implement a beautiful sound in order to carry out your expression.

Don’t like to run scales mindlessly? Okay, organize the scale you’re practicing into a lovely sounding four or five-note melodic pattern and play it up and down the range of your instrument. (You can get lots of these kinds of melodic scalar ideas by looking at the music of Bach, Brahms, or even Cannonball Adderly; just follow the music you love.)

In the simplest sense, aim at making what you practice musical as opposed to mechanical.

The whole idea of a written “etude” is to turn a particular pedagogical aim into a musically satisfying expression and experience. It’s to teach a particular lesson by telling a good story, so to speak.

See if you can think in this “etude” way to bring your practice into the realm of pleasure.

For example, if there is a particular technical passage that give you difficulty, rather than just repeating the passage over and over as it is, see if you can play with it a bit. Make variations on it. Play games with the tempo as you work through it. Play it by ear in different keys. Use it in the context of improvisation (in fact, build and entire improvised solo based upon the technically challenging passage.)

If you work this way, you’ll help build a more expansive and flexible technique.

And it doesn’t have to be only because something gives you a direct musical pleasure to make it otherwise pleasurable. I have a student who loves holding long tones on the trombone because the resonance he feels in his face and chest give him pleasure. This Kinesthetic sensation is like a healthy narcotic for him. He loves to practice long tones!

Maybe it’s pleasurable because you love to be challenged. Maybe it’s pleasurable because it gives you a sense of ritual and routine. Maybe it’s pleasurable because it helps you imagine beyond what you can already do.

Or maybe it gives you pleasure because it reminds you of why you play music in the first place. All good.

There are so many resources these days to make practicing more enjoyable and efficient: backing tracks, smart phone apps, video tutorials, etudes…take advantage of these things!

And always remember to digress that which is out of your reach. If something is to difficult for you to play in the moment, transform it slightly to bring it back into reach, then raise the bar slightly once you’re successful doing so.

As a final thought, be good to yourself. “Use yourself well”, we’d say in the Alexander Technique. That is, aim to play with an easy, flexible balance and with a minimum of excess effort. And speak to yourself kindly. Be clear about what you want, and ask yourself gently for it. Remember that music, even the most serious music, involves play. So play!