Something You Do When You Practice That Is Always A Good Use Of Your Time

If you practice patience in one moment of anger, you will escape one hundred days of sorrow.

-Chinese Proverb

Serious, daily musical practice is something that is loaded with speculation and second-guessing. Lots of “should’ve, would’ve and could’ve”, as my father would say.

Whenever I’m giving a practice coaching session to a musician, the topic of practice efficiency is always punctuated with concerns of “wasted time”:

“Maybe I should’ve spent more time on this, instead of that.”

“If I would’ve done this, instead of that, I could’ve achieved my goal sooner.”

And so on…

And this is a fair concern to have, for obvious reasons. Aimless, misdirected practice neither satisfies nor improves a dedicated musician.

But practice efficiency is, in of itself, a lifetime quest. It’s not something you master. It’s something you just get better and better at (if you’re dedicated to improving your process).

I would say that I practice with a high degree of efficiency these days: clearly defined goals, with an effective prescription and implementation of work to attain these goals. I can accomplish a good deal in a relatively short time during my practice session.

Yet I still occasionally find myself, if not “wasting my time” on certain things, at the very least, not working as efficiently as I could and would like to.

Having said that, there is one thing I do in every practice session that is always a good use of my time. I do this many, many times during any given practice session, yet I still don’t do it often enough.

What is it I do?

I stop.

Yes, I simply stop. I pause.

I practice (as the Chinese Proverb above states) being patient.

Now, to be clear, I don’t hesitate. I pause. There’s a difference.

Hesitation is not a choice. Pausing is. Hesitation is usually accompanied by doubt, tension and restriction. Pausing is accompanied by clarity, release and freedom.

What do I do when I pause? Mostly, I redirect my thinking. This redirection can take shape in a variety of ways.

Sometimes, I just need to take the saxophone out of my mouth, and to put my entire self back into neutral for a moment.

I do this when either:

I sense myself accumulating more tension than I’d like to have as I practice a particular thing. Or, when I’ve lost the clarity of purpose, the clarity of thinking, that I know is necessary for me to gain something useful from whatever I’m practicing.

Just letting go of the instrument, letting my arms fall lightly to my sides and asking for my shoulders and neck to release back into length. Very simple.

It’s absolutely amazing how easily I can get back on track, and get right back to constructive, mindful effort during my practice segment by taking time to do this.

So how long to I stop for? However long it takes. Usually it’s a matter of just a few seconds.

But whenever I choose to stop, I always keep the promise I made to give myself time. To not jump right back in without redirecting myself. To bring myself back to choice, instead of reaction.

I’m not talking about taking breaks here in your practice routine. You know, 20 or 30 minutes of practice, punctuated by 5 or 10 minutes of rest. That’s all good, too. And that is a big part of my practice strategy/process.

What I’m talking about is the ability to pause many, many times during, let’s say, a 20-minute practice segment.

As an Alexander Technique teacher, learning to stop and choose is a fundamental skill that I encourage and teach to all my students. It’s essential for change.

I too often observe musicians making a mistake (or another unwanted response) as they are practicing something, and then jump right into again without any change in thinking. When this happens, they tend to just do the same thing they did before that led to the unwanted result.

Einstein’s definition of insanity comes to mind here:

Doing the same thing over and over again, the same way, but expecting a different result.

As you can discern, that’s not exactly the most efficient use of time and effort.

Whenever you pause to release unnecessary tension, to refresh your thinking, to reaffirm your intention, you are cultivating the conditions in yourself that are most ideal to learn and to play music. You are moving back into the heart of practice efficiency.

I’ve never gotten to the end of a practice session and said to myself, “I shouldn’t have stopped so much.”

But I do sometimes get to the end of a practice session and say to myself, “I probably should’ve stopped more.”

Often when I stop, I realize, too, that I’ve done enough work for the day on the particular thing I’m practicing, and that it’s time to move on. It’s safe to say that as I get better at stopping, I make fewer and fewer repetitions of any particular exercise. I wouldn’t be able to realize this without giving myself the choice to pause and check in with myself.

And it’s not unusual for me to observe a new client practice for the first time and see all the unnecessary, mindless repetitions that are being made.

Rather than 20 or 30 unclear tries at an exercise in order to develop the elusive (and often misleading) idea of “muscle memory”, replace 30 inefficient, mindless tries with 5 clear and well-directed tries. Not only will you save time, but also, you’ll optimize your efforts.

But a big bonus for me is that all the work I’ve done in getting better at stopping has significantly impacted how I improvise.

Just knowing somewhere in the background of my consciousness that I can stop at any moment if I wish, fundamentally changes my phrasing, as well as my note choices. I discover the music as it flows through me, instead of trying to force it to go somewhere. This always allows me to find surprise and delight as I improvise. A beautiful thing, indeed.

So give yourself a chance to pause more. Work on it consciously. Make it a skill that you dedicate yourself to developing. It’s always time well spent. Let me know what you think!

Improvisation: Developing Your “Other” Ear

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It’s an exciting time right now in modern jazz. There are some younger artists (younger than me, anyhow!) who are cultivating unique, highly personal voices.

As a tenor saxophonist, I think of artists such as Mark Turner, Chris Potter, Melissa Aldana, Matt Otto, Bill McHenry, Ben Wendel, Joel Frahm and Donny McCaslin (to name but a few) as examples of an ever-expanding lexicon in the great jazz tradition.

All of these artists are very sophisticated harmonically, pushing the boundaries of extension and substitution over song forms. Usually when I hear other musicians marvel at their sophistication, it usually starts and ends in the realm of pitch choices.

But these artists have another thing in common: They all have a highly cultivated rhythmic imagination.

I say highly cultivated, because it’s unlikely that this happened by accident. That is, it’s more likely that there has been conscious attention (through practice and study) brought to the rhythmic aspects of their improvisational languages.

Whenever I listen to a Mark Turner solo over a standard song, I’m struck by the unpredictability of his phrasing. It’s as if time gets suspended as he’s playing in time. Lots of phrases “ignoring the bar line”. Lots of rhythmic complexity, such as polyrhtythm, polymeter, metric modulation, etc. Lots of freedom…

And the beautiful part (to me, anyhow) is it sounds like he’s just playing, just expressing himself in the moment. His rhythmic approach sounds so highly developed that it seems unconscious. It is something that serves his spontaneous self-expression.

There is a huge amount of emphasis on ear training (for pitch) in jazz improvisation, and rightly so. The idea, like Sonny Rollins said, is to “access the subconscious” when improvsing. To do this, you have to practice things until they go so deep inside you that you don’t even have to think about them to use them. You imagine, you follow your ear, you play.

This takes lots of discipline, time, reflection and commitment. Any serious student of improvisation knows this.

Most jazz ear training involves learning to identify (and play back) lots of pitch-related things: intervals, scale colors, modes, chord qualities, harmonic movement, passing tones and more.

So it should come as no surprise that the serious improviser (you?) will spend lots of time developing this part of your ear, perhaps by transcribing solos, singing scales and chords, memorizing melodic patterns by ear, and more.

But you have “another ear” that you might not working on as consciously: your rhythmic ear.

Sure, if you transcribe a solo, you’re transcribing everything. But if you analyze this solo, are you giving enough time and attention to how the solo is constructed from a rhythmic standpoint?

Where do the phrases begin and end? How is rhythm used to build meaning and give cogency? Are there any metric modulations? Is there any tension and resolution that is built specifically upon rhythm, rather than pitch?

If you’re not asking these (and other) questions when analyzing a solo, you should. Here’s why:

The most remarkable, most revolutionary thing about the great Lester Young was not his pitch choices. It was his beautiful, floating time feel and his rhythmic sophistication.

A lot of Lester Young’s solos ebbed and flowed with tension and release via the rhythms more so than the pitches. (Don’t get me wrong, he had a beautiful melodic sense, and could aways choose the loveliest of notes.)

He, too, “floated over the bar”, as he used polymeter, metric modulation and other devices to stretch and compress his phrases in unpredictably beautiful ways. It’s no mystery that he is considered the precursor to the “modern jazz” era that began with bebop.

And as bebop developed, there was, of course, a harmonic revolution. The rules for dissonance and consonance, tension and resolution, were fundamentally shaken up in the jazz world.

But there was also a rhythmic revolution. Fast tempos, asymmetrical phrases, metric modulation, polyrhythm…all this became part of the modern jazz language.

Yet, to this day, the rhythmic innovations seem to take a back seat to the harmonic ones.

And that’s too bad, because one of the most identifiable aspects of any jazz artists (besides sound) is phrasing. If you’re just spitting out continuous series of eighth notes as you improvise over a song, that could get old soon, no matter how harmonically sophisticated you play.

But if I can’t predict your phrasing, can’t predict how you stop and start, can’t predict how you connect your ideas, can’t predict what kinds of rhythms are giving life to your ideas…well, then, I for one, am at the edge of my seat giving you all my attention.

So how do you develop a rhythmic vocabulary and a more sophisticated rhythmic imagination (your “other” ear)?

They same way you do your sense of pitch. You listen, analyze and practice. Just like you have to “feed your ears” for pitch, you need to do likewise for rhythm.

Here are five things you can do:

1. Pay attention-Start by changing your approach. As I mentioned above, if you’re analysing an improvised solo, make a conscious decision to do a thorough rhythmic and form analysis. Notice as specifically as possible how rhythm (including space) is used to build tension and move the story along.

2. Seek out the jazz masters-Look for the improvisers whose rhythmic sense is extraordinary. You can’t go wrong starting with Lester Young, and you can go so much further.

3. Look outside of the jazz idiom-Find some improvising musicians in other genres whose rhythmic sense seems so complex, it’s almost baffling (Balkan folk music, for example). Listen to the point that you can sing along. Once you can sing along, take out the metronome and analyze. Then play around with these rhythms (see below).

4. Practice using specific rhythms as you improvise-Choose a rhythmic pattern that isn’t readily available to you when you improvise (maybe something from one of the masters mentioned above) and use it to improvise over a set of chord changes, or a mode, scale or motif. Limit yourself to one rhythm at a time. Though it might seem awkward at first, it will go into your subconscious (if you give it enough time and effort) and will become part of your natural musical expression (just like the harmonic material you’ve practiced).

5. Understand the math-Become good at polymeter, polyrhythm and metric modulation. Know how to land on your feet when you go into new, asymmetrical rhythmic territories. For example, If you don’t know how to imply 3/4 subdivision patterns over 4/4 without losing your sense of where the downbeat of beat one is, you’ll never even give it chance to show up in your playing. (I’ve written a very thorough eBook of melodic etudes to help you with this, as well as one to help you with polyrhythm.) Just like you need to understand the “anatomy” of harmony, you need to understand the anatomy of rhythm.

So work on developing “both” your ears as an improviser, and enjoy the surprising changes you’ll hear in your playing.

And if you need help, I offer a highly effective, methodical approach to both improving your sense of time and feel, as well as cultivating your rhythmic skills and imagination. It’s called Rhythm Coach, and it can put you on the path to continued growth and improvement in these areas.

The Invisible Obstacles To Self Improvement

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“The things that don’t exist are the most difficult to get rid of.”

-F.M. Alexander, founder of the Alexander Technique

Serious musicians are typically filled with very strong beliefs. Beliefs about their pedagogy, beliefs about their equipment, and beliefs about themselves.

Part of my job as an Alexander Technique teacher is to gently and respectfully question the validity of some of these beliefs.

The easy part of this is calling into question things they happen to believe that are contrary to the physical principles of nature, such as what their diaphragm actually does, or about various acoustical elements involved in producing a sound.

Once I explain and demonstrate the science, they become clearer and usually discard their misconceptions.

But the more insidious type of belief that my students carry isn’t so easily discarded: what they believe about themselves.

For the musician, it usually manifests itself in three closely related components:

1. Physical necessity (“I need to do this to play well.”)

2. Learning style (“This is the best way for me to learn/practice to play well.”)

3. Potential (“This is what I’m ultimately capable of doing.”)

I say they’re closely related, because number one will have a significant impact on number two, which will then impact number three.

Now, to be clear, I think it’s wonderful when musicians have a good understanding of themselves, their own learning styles, and their potential. (In fact, its’ something that I aim to help my students improve through the work with the Alexander Technique.)

It’s just that if a musician goes on thinking something about him or herself that just isn’t true, it’s very difficult to change things for the better.

Let’s take for example the, “I need to do this to play well.” Even after I demonstrate the physical reality of erroneously conceived ideas about anatomy/physiology as it applies to pedagogy (as mentioned above), musicians sometimes respond with a bit of a disconnect.

It’s as if they’re thinking, “Yeah, I can see that it works that way in nature, but it doesn’t necessarily apply to me.” Unless I can bridge that disconnect (and I usually can) they will continue to play with much more strain and effort than they think they need.

But it’s the learning style component that can be more difficult to penetrate.

Thinking things like, “I need to practice it exactly this way to get the best result” can turn into a prison of sorts for some musicians.

On the one hand, it comes with an element of truth: You do, to a certain degree (perhaps a large degree), have a good understanding of how you learn and practice best. This understanding has helped you produce some good results.

But you are not yet an authority. Nobody is (including me!)

“Learning how you learn” is a lifelong, ever unfolding, dynamic process. I don’t know exactly how I learn best. Instead, I’m always consciously aspiring to become a better learner.

And I can say with confidence that I’m a better learner today than I was two years ago (but not as good a learner as I will be two years from now).

This involves the underlying assumption on my part that there is always a better way for me to learn something, and hence, a more effective way to practice. I just need to stay curious, inquisitive, discerning (as objective as possible), organized and vigilant.

My false learning beliefs manifest themselves into lots of misdirected practice energy. Far too much time spent on the wrong things, not enough time on the right things.

When this is the case, my desire to improve is not optimally supported by my practice efforts. Simple as that.

Every time I let go of a false belief about how I learn, I move closer to my potential as a musician.

And that brings me to the belief about potential. To be truthful, I don’t know what mine is. I have a good sense of my strengths and weaknesses, my desires and discipline, but this gives me lots of room for possibility.

However, I do have an ever-increasing faith in my potential to to continue to learn, grow, and more clearly express myself musically.

As I let go of previously held misconceptions about my body, about acoustical principles, about what (and how) I need to practice to optimize my efforts, I move ever closer toward whatever my potential may be.

I describe these false beliefs about myself as invisible obstacles, carrying with them a self-fulfilling prophecy that limits my growth. My work with myself is to question them, to bring them into the light.

How about you? What are your invisible obstacles? Until you can bring them into the light, you will continue to be powerfully shaped by them.

Start by questioning things that you perhaps accept as the absolute truth.

Strive to more clearly understand yourself and your bodily structure and human design. Study some basic anatomy as it applies to playing your instrument.

Take an Alexander Technique lesson in order to learn how to use your body in such a way as to optimize your practice efforts.

Study the acoustics of your instrument. Understand your physical role in relationship to these acoustical principles.

But most of all, be ever flexible, curious, open-minded and humble about how you learn. You really have no idea of how far you can go. And that’s a good thing.

Ask Yourself These Four Questions To Make Your Practice Time More Effective

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One of the things that many highly accomplished musicians have in common is the ability to practice in an efficient and effective manner. This is a skill that is cultivated and improved upon over a lifetime.

As a practice coach, my main aim is to connect my client’s desires with their actions. In other words: “What kind of musician do you wish to become?”, needs to be connected to, “What are you doing every day to become that kind of musician?”

As simple as this sounds, I’m still struck by the number of very good musicians who’ve come to me for help who aren’t as clear as they need to be about this. Some are quite frustrated that they’re spending lots of time practicing, but don’t seem to be getting anywhere through their efforts.

Effective and efficient practice comes down to two simple things: prescription (what you choose to practice), and implementation (how you practice what you’ve chosen).

Though there are many variables to consider here, I’ve come to realize that virtually any musician’s practice can become more effective if she/he keeps four simple questions in mind. Here they are:

1. Why am I practicing this? It’s not uncommon for me to ask this to one of my clients and have them struggle to find an answer. This should never be the case. You are either practicing something because of a short-term, “closed-ended” goal/obligation (I need to have this piece ready by next Thursday), or a long-term, “open-ended” one (I’d like to improve my sound). Of course, most of the problems with respect to this lie in the realm of long-term, open-ended goals.

Whatever you’re practicing, make sure you have the end in mind. In the short-term, this is not too difficult (mastering the piece, the chord changes, etc.). In the long-term this means that you need to be always mindful of the musician you are aspiring to become (in as specific detail as possible) and that everything you’re practicing is clearly leading you toward that goal. This means lots of self-reflection, assessment and modification.

2. What would I like to achieve today as I practice this? Have a clear aim in mind every time you set out to practice something. For example, “Today, I want to be able to play this at quarter note equals 142 with the precision and clarity that I know I’m currently capable of.”

Bear in mind that you might not achieve your goal. And that’s absolutely fine. Don’t feel bad about aiming low, either. It is okay to have small, easily attainable goals in your practice session (in fact, I prefer it). Giving yourself a chance to improve in even the smallest degree on a daily basis , not only encourages you, but also, helps you keep things under control and at the highest quality.

3. How am I practicing this? This goes to the core of the Alexander Technique principles of “use”. What are you doing with yourself as you practice this particular thing? Are you allowing your neck and shoulders (and the rest of yourself) to be free and mobile? Is your breathing mobile, expansive and quiet? Are you letting the floor (or chair) support you as you let your neuromuscular system suspend you lightly upwards? The more efficiently you use yourself as you practice, the more effective the thing you practice becomes. It’s a matter of good overall coordination supporting fine motor skills.

Also, you need to give yourself ample time and opportunities to stop. Stop and redirect your thinking. Bring it back to your intention and to your more conscious, improved use of yourself. I’ve seen far too many musicians jumping right from one attempt to the next as they practice a particular thing, with no chance for redirecting their efforts. This tends to bring them within the realm of Einstein’s definition of insanity: Doing something the same way over and over, but expecting a different result. Get better at stopping. You’ll be glad you did.

4. Have I finished practicing this? This is the one that most of my clients struggle with the most. When have you done enough work in this practice session to move on to the next thing? It’s time to move on either because: you’ve reached your goal for the day; or, you’ve done as well as you can reasonably expect for the day.

Learn to move on when the time is right. If you find yourself getting more and more frustrated as you practice something, it’s time to stop and redirect your thinking (see number 3, above). Regress the challenge of whatever your practicing to bring it back into your reach. All you need are a few good experiences each day with a particular skill to improve it. You don’t need to repeat that same scale pattern thirty times over and over in one practice session. Aim for four or five (or even fewer) good, consciously directed takes on a particular piece, then move on.

The clearer your aims are, and the more conscientious you are as you go after them, the more likely it is you’ll improve. These four simple questions can help keep you on track.

Change This Habit In Your Daily Practice To Become A Better Improviser

Take Action

Here are some things to keep in mind (and/or to practice) to help you with this:

Stay with one new time signature default at a time-3/4 is a good place to start. Spend three or four days of your practice week spending 90% or more of your time in this time signature. Do this for several weeks. More, if you feel the need. Once you are as free and comfortable in 3 as you are in 4, other odd times will seem immediately approachable (see below).

All odd times are just subdivisions of 2 and 3-5/8 is a subdivision of 2 and 3 (or 3 and 2); 7/8 is 2-2-3 (or 3-2-2). Once you’ve mastered playing in 3 (see above), the rest falls into place. It’s just a matter of methodical practice. After 3/4, work on 5/4, then 5/8, then 7/4, then 7/8. (Again, one time signature at a time until you feel confident before moving on to another.)

Put scale and arpeggio patterns into the odd time signature-Whether you’re working with a note grouping that you know well (like scales in thirds, for example) or are working out a new pattern, work it out into the non-4/4 time subdivision.

Start with open-ended improvisation-When you begin exploring a new odd time signature, choose a mode, scale, or thematic fragment, turn on the metronome (or drum loop) and improvise as melodically and clearly as you can. Always know where beat one is. Always.

Put standard songs and cyclical chord changes into odd times-Once you’re comfortable improvising without a bar form (you know where “one” is; you can play melodically), take a tune that you know really well into odd time. (I Got Rhythm changes in 7/8 is a blast!) If you don’t want to start with a tune, practice over some ii-V cycles, or the Coltrane Matrix, or…?

Take a jazz lick or cliché that you know really well and modify it to fit into the odd time subdivision-This will really open up your ears as well as you melodic imagination.

Work in both a swing feel and in a straight eighth note feel-Either with a metronome or with drum loops, it’s always a good idea to explore different feels. Even if all you want to do is play swing. With all the amazing smart phone apps out there these days, you have lots of fun things to work with.

Work with polymeter-This is where it comes full circle. Once you’ve become comfortable improvising in odd meters, you can begin to actively explore odd-metered subdivisions as you superimpose them over 4/4 time. (I have written a very thorough and methodical eBook that helps you to develop this specific skill, called Essential Polymeter Studies in 4/4 for the Improvising Musician.) Polymeter is a highly effective way to build tension and interest in your solos.

So give up the daily habit of 4/4 as the “go to” time signature (you already know it well enough by now, I’m sure!), and enjoy a new adventure in your learning process, and in your musical expression.